#ship: ceaseless lovers

[jennajaeger]

So I don’t normally talk about my OCs on here very much, but I got inspired by @starleska to actually talk a little bit about the OCs I have to ship with some of my F/Os!! Yes they are all still essentially self-inserts and meant to be lived through vicariously, but they’re still my girls and I love them :3 Plus I think it would be fun to give you guys a little bit of a glimpse into the stories I have for my F/Os!!

Liesel Halle & Eren Jaeger, Attack On Titan

Liesel is often considered to be “the flower of the Survey Corps” because while she’s not a member of the squad (her older sister, Isolde, holds a high rank and she’s shipped with Levi, but that’s another story :P), she’s always helping out and is great for morale -- not to mention she’s the only person who can get Eren to SIMMER DOWN sometimes XD It’s cute to track the growth of their relationship as they go from teenagers to adults, and how devoted they ultimately become to each other. Not to mention how Liesel almost has a parallel arc of descending into darkness right alongside her paramour :P She’s ready to murder people for her mans if it comes down to it, AND IT OFTEN DOES.

Gianna “Gigi” Knightleigh & Jonathan Sims, The Magnus Archives

I have SUCH a soft spot for Jon and Gigi’s relationship, because it so closely mirrors my own feelings towards Jon as a character :P Gigi was hand-picked by Elias to work at the Institute as an intern, and at first she didn’t like Jon at all XD She thought he was a stuffy, pompous windbag and was endlessly frustrated by his skepticism. There was ENDLESS sarcastic banter between the two of them, and then y’know, season two happened :P And that’s where the shift in their dynamic happens. Gigi realizes firsthand that Jon isn’t ignorant, he’s TERRIFIED. She becomes the only person he allows himself to really turn to in all of this, and that’s when they really become close :P And she becomes FIERCELY protective of him when everyone else starts to turn on him, even when it becomes clear that Jon isn’t human. I’m also pretty sure Elias chose her specifically BECAUSE she would end up being so supportive of Jon, and despite her vulnerabilities he’s actively protecting her from ending up as a target of any of the other Entities :P 

Jenna Campbell & Wanda Maximoff, Marvel Cinematic Universe

Shocking that my MCU themed OC is the most blatantly self-insert-y of the bunch :P Irony being that this SHIELD agent fell for Wanda’s twin brother Pietro first, and the two of them came together in their shared grief after he was killed during their mission. This led to the two of them becoming close friends, and then Jenna developing some more-than-friends feelings for Wanda that she largely kept to herself because of Wanda’s burgeoning courtship with Vision :P But she’s always been willing to do just about anything for Wanda, to the point where getting her back was largely Jenna’s motivation post-Infinity War. But after Endgame, the world was broken, and they all had their own traumas to cope with, and Jenna didn’t realize that Wanda was isolating herself to an unhealthy degree until it was too late for her to directly intervene. She never stopped fighting to find Wanda again though, especially in the direct aftermath of Westview. As it stands, the future of their story is uncertain, but hopefully their paths will ultimately cross again......

Nyx Hopper & Eddie Munson & Chrissy Cunningham, Stranger Things

Nyx has become one of my more prominent OCs!! She’s the adoptive older sister of Eleven, and the two of them were brought up in the Hawkins lab together -- though because she was older, Nyx was put into a caretaker role towards the younger kids. She ended up escaping from the lab and being forced to leave El behind, though they found their way back to each other. When she first started attending Hawkins High, Nyx was withdrawn and quiet, and she was inspired to come out of her shell more and be unapologetically herself (as well as embracing the goth subculture) by watching Eddie do the same thing :P And so she’s harbored a crush on him ever since. She also ended up becoming close to Chrissy after they met by pure circumstance; Chrissy is the only member of the “popular” crowd to give Nyx a chance, and Nyx has the empathy that encourages Chrissy to open up to her :3 And yes, she does have similar telekinetic abilities to El, and an even stronger connection to the Upside Down..... :P 

Jacaera Velaryon & Aemond Targaryen, House of the Dragon

gonna put a content warning here for canon-typical incest

Jacaera is the only living daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen; with her father purported to be Laenor Velaryon, but her biological father is in fact Harwin Strong :P She’s the older sister of Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey, though she knows her brothers will always come first in the line of succession, and has to grapple with this as her mother once did before her. Like her brothers, she also grew up in close proximity to Alicent’s children; Rhaenyra’s half-siblings Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. Despite the fact that he’s technically her uncle, the two are so close in age they grew up seeing each other as peers, especially with Helaena being betrothed to her own elder brother Aegon at an early age. Jacaera was the only one of Rhaenyra’s children who was never cruel to Aemond, and this on top of their common interests fostered a closeness between the two of them. As they meet each other again in adulthood, the two of them face the prospect of being the future of their respective branches of the Targaryen family line.....and coming into their own in war rather than in love :P (the ~drama~ with these two is real)

“Valkyrie” & Johnny Silverhand, Cyberpunk 2077

Ah, Valkyrie, my V!! I’ve talked about her and her dynamic with Johnny a bit before, but I will take every opportunity to talk about them more :P She comes from a Corpo family, and she was always kind of the family disappointment. (Admittedly, being a Samurai fangirl and openly crushing on a dead rockstar who was also most definitely a domestic terrorist didn’t do her any favors either :P) At first, she worked hard to try and prove herself, but after unceremoniously losing her cushy job, she’s gone full “fuck it” and uses her Corpo knowledge as a force for chaos XD Admittedly, having your old celeb crush in your head and hearing them (at least at first) reaffirm everything your abusive mom ever told you is kind of a head trip :P Though Valkyrie ends up personally trusting Johnny a lot more off the bat than the game establishes, their banter is amazing and he’ll obviously never admit how much he actually likes her, or how important she becomes to him down the line. Eventually their relationship becomes borderline codependent in the most delicious way, and though V has her girl gang (Judy, Panam, Claire, and Lizzy), there’s really nothing she and Johnny won’t do for each other <3 

Nova & Vash the Stampede & Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Trigun Stampede 2023

Stampede is one of those shows that imo is just.....nigh on perfection so I tend to struggle to find holes in the narrative that I can put my OC into :P That being said, Nova is a darling :3 I may not be able to give her any special powers or any significant arc as of yet, however sometimes it’s just enough for her to be there for the boys in those little in between moments, to give them the love and affection they both so desperately need <3 

Naomi “Nighthawk” Kanda & Touya “Dabi” Todoroki, My Hero Academia

Ah, Naomi, my baby girl <3 She has such a special place in my heart and so does this relationship :P Her Quirk is called Swerve, the ability to alter the trajectory of any projectile she throws or that is thrown toward her; including her own body. She once had aspirations of becoming a Pro Hero back in her UA days, when she was young and naive. But of course, she had the idealistic preconceptions of what being a hero is like completely shattered for her when she went on a mission that went very, very bad. She failed to save a child whom had been abducted, and in her blind fury and grief she murdered the man who was responsible. Now she’s considered a vigilante and delivers her own form of justice to the most heinous of criminals, and operates under the moniker “Nighthawk” :P (Her family also had ties to the Yakuza but THAT’S another story XD) She ended up getting on the radar of the League of Villains, and will even sometimes work with them on and off, but she has her own agenda by and large. She also has a chronic case of “I can fix him” disorder and by god it’s incurable XD

Melody Thyme & Wally Darling, Welcome Home ARG

Melody is a somewhat new addition to my roster of OCs, and since there’s still so little we know about the “canon” of Welcome Home, she’s kind of still in development, but I am attached to her regardless XD Her name is a pun off of the title of the little-known Disney animated musical anthology film, Melody Time, which was one of my childhood faves :P She’s a guest star puppet character in the world of the Welcome Home show, she runs a dress shop in town and has dreams of one day becoming a singer; and she often has song spots that she sometimes shares with Wally :P Her whole aesthetic is very Loretta Lynn and June Carter Cash. The darkness behind her character is in all likelihood tied to just how HARD it was to be a woman in the entertainment industry in the late 60s and early 70s. I also have this fun, cute, and somewhat sad headcanon that throughout her appearances on the show, she was continually working on what would ultimately turn out to be a wedding dress, and that the show was cancelled before she had a chance to wear it.

#save tag #long post #oc: liesel halle #oc: gigi knightleigh #oc: jenna campbell #oc: nyx hopper #oc: jacaera velaryon #oc: valkyrie #oc: nova #oc: naomi kanda #oc: melody thyme #ship: ceaseless lovers #ship: stardust bones #ship: heart song #ship: cheerleader gothic #ship: sapphire wedding #ship: valkyrie wings #ship: dazzling haze #ship: shotgun stigmata #ship: just the most

[da-mous]

fav ship dynamic is the ceaseless wheel. enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers to enemies to

[rosesradio]

I’ve been seeing this thing around about rating pjo ships so i thought I’d give it a go 🤠 no personal offense if i don’t give your ship a high rating, i’m pretty particular except for when I’m not

Percabeth - 9/10. love them loads, but could have gone without the judo flip + other odd behaviors that are only seen as “cute” because the sexes are flipped, otherwise they’re great

Jercy - 1/10. i can see potential i guess but also there’s just a lot of better options for both of these characters imo, plus i see them as bros

Valgrace - 10/10, to storm or fire the world must fall, best friends to lovers, no notes

Solangelo - 2/10. i can see…the potential. their “significant annoyance” scene gave me the warm fuzzies as a 14 year old looking for rep. but oh my god how they’re written in canon sometimes is just so bad, it ruins fanon for me as well. not to mention the one-dimensional-ization done in order to amplify the “grumpy x sunshine !!!1!” trope. however i will say Some solangelo fans understand that they should Both be freaks (and in that AU it’s a respectable 8/10 from me) and the ship has fantastic fan artists

Shelper - 2/10. no hate i’m just bored…like who is shel?? tell me one thing about her personality. does she get any dialogue?? richard??

Jasper/Jiper - 1/10 the fake memories were cute but the inside of pipers head did not pass the Bechdel test. would love to see them as platonic soulmate roommates though

Jeyna - 1/10 the devotion is admirable but yk. can relate being aroace and latching on to some dude lmao

Theyna - 4/10. not my cup of tea but in a world where either they aren’t hunters or it’s an interpretation where the hunters can be lesbians…it’s a good ship. haven’t really seen much for them but I’m open to it. might prefer them as a platonic buddy cop duo though

Pernico - 4/10 i see them as annoying cousins but i respect the angst potential of unrequited love. i don’t think the ship as endgame would be good for either of the characters. however, again, really good fan artists

Jasico - 10/10 the drinking out of the chalice scene was hot don’t look at me. really good fan artists etc. i should write more with them

Valdangelo - 10/10, yk how i feel about pushing my blorbos together and making them kiss lol. massively underrated, read ceaseless eve, etc 

Pipabeth - 7.5/10 i like percabeth more but it’s my favorite piper ship. I haven’t seen much content with them but i’ve liked what i have seen. I might make some stuff with them

Rachbeth - 2/10, the potential is there i guess but i see them as best friends

Perchel - 8.5/10 i guess i’m in the minority but what makes the pjo love triangle so compelling compared to other YA love triangles is that Both of the ships are really good. idk what to tell you they go well together

Lukercy - 6/10 i see the potential but if you’re going for dark fic vibes i think lukabeth is better

Lukabeth - 9/10 the dark fic potential has me chewing the furniture. wouldn’t ship them as like a fluffy endgame but that’s not the point

Frazel - 0/10 richard please let two people of the opposite sex be friends

Caleo - -100000000/10 nothing could be a better crafted anti-caleo fic than canon itself

#pjo #perhaps i will tag the positively rated ships and not the others…i’ll receive flames either way so 🧍 #percabeth #pipabeth #valdangelo #jasico #valgrace #perachel

[evolutionsvoid]

The sea provides and the sea takes, this is the simple mantra all sea folk know. For every heavy haul and successful hunt, there is a lost ship and watery grave. It is a place where some waters can be brimming with life and sustenance, but other sections offer nothing but an endless blue void. Riches be plundered from its depths, tables can be laden with its offerings, and then suddenly in a blink of an eye there is nothing but empty nets and empty homes. This mantra can be applied to what dwells beneath the surface, as these oceans are not just home to simple fish and monstrous leviathans. There is a world down there, any sea folk can tell you that. What we know of it is quite sparse, but some folk claim this ignorance is a blessing. Because as alien as it is, there is familiarity in their shapes and ways. Customs and creations that are far too similar to be mere coincidence. Do these beings below mirror themselves after the strange offerings that descend to their world from the light-filled waters above? Or do we shudder to think that our ways were not born on dry land? The question exists, but is often ignored. Few wish to answer it.

If these abyssal beings are mirrors to those up above, then it is no surprise that they know of battle and violence. The bowels of the sea are already familiar with the deaths that are necessary for survival, for mercy means starvation and hesitancy means another's fangs buried in your hide. And even if this strange world retained some bestial innocence, what would they learn from the offerings that fall upon their heads? The burnt splinters of wood and bone, as our own artificial leviathans perish to cannon fire and Yellowflame. The bodies of sailors and fighters, torn by explosion and violated by arrows and harpoons. The mementos and trinkets carved upon ivory and blessed with hope, given by a waiting lover but now vanishing in the darkness below. Though the sea may appear unblemished by our wars, the abyss knows of our sin. Who can blame them for taking up arms? Perhaps it is for their own defense, fearful that our violence and chaos may too fall upon their world. Or maybe they craft these weapons with the intention of storming a hate-filled heaven and clearing it of its ceaseless blasphemy.

Below are weapons that were born from the sea, either crafted in its depths or made from its denizens. Some have washed up on shore, others have been found embedded in ship hulls. While many shy away from these strange tools, fearing their very presence, some sea folk have taken these recovered weapons and used them for themselves. As it is said, the sea gives and the sea takes away. Some see this discovery as a gift, granted by the ocean as a blessing of protection. But others believe the sea has come to claim a debt, for those who gleefully grab these odd blades have instead sealed their deaths.

1. Telson Barb - A jagged spear crafted from the pieces of a fallen Devout, whose body now serves to protect their faith. Carried by many, even by other Devout, for even in death the faithful may still serve. Its tip is coated in their Blue Blood, charging it with Abyssal Lightning. Those pierced by its barb shall feel its energy sear through their body, as it is said their sin is being drained away. It is said that this revelation and cleansing makes many drop to their knees and offer their souls to the sea, but in truth, Abyssal Lightning robs one of vitality, leaving the wounded sluggish and unable to fight back against the mortal blow.

2. Fiddler's Bident - A heftier blade born from claw and dripping with draining Blue Blood. Its size and impact makes it an intimidating weapon, which makes some view it as an executioner's tool. It is a weapon of both purification and damnation, all depending on which end the viewer is on. For those who wield it, the twin prongs snare foes and trap them in a frying embrace, holding them high so that all can see sin be burned away. But for those who feel its draining bite, they are the condemned being dragged down into hell by a pallid crushing claw.

3. Writhing Mace - A crude living weapon crafted from a searing anemone. Hefty shell gives it its smash, while Blue Blood filled tendrils grant it its sting. A cruel weapon at times, for it shatters limbs than violates the wounds with probing burning tentacles. Must be baptized in sea water every so often so that its anemone doesn't dry out.

4. Benthic Rapier - Crafted from the skull of a swordfish, it is believed the essence of the creature still lives on within it. Those who wield it claim they feel the fish's ferocity swim through their veins, and guide their blade in a deadly flurry. Grasp the blade and aim it towards thy foe. Do you not feel its pull? its eagerness to taste flesh once more?

5. Shingled Buckler - A living shield in the form of an urchin, whose armored scales defy claw and blade. Its ring of protruding shingles still slowly move and pulse, a sluggishness still powered by instinct. Wielders find it easier to catch blades with this shield, as these scales lash out against blows to catch them in a brief, but decisive, embrace.

6. Abyssal Whiptail - A whip cut from a denizen of the abyss, crackling with Abyssal Lightning. Its glow was once used to lure in prey before ending them with a single strike. This trait as not been lost in death, as wielders claim its luminescent tendril mesmerizes foes on the battlefield as it flows and dances, and then the hunter leaps in for the kill.

7. Sawsnout Blade - The weapon of a sawfish, now severed and wielded by another. Its many spikes and teeth tear through flesh and leave horrible weeping wounds. It is not the weapon of a clean killer or an efficient warrior. It is a tool of anger and brutality, ensuring every foe return to the cycle in as much pain and in as many pieces as possible. It is a cruel thing to behold, but the fish probably approves.

8. Lost Cudgel - Not all tools are crafted from fallen followers of the abyss, as some come from the corpses that drift down from the heavens. The stiff, hollow shells of humanity's naval beasts are seen just the same as the leviathans who find their final resting place here. Ships are beset with scavengers once they reach the ocean floor, and anything useful is stripped from its bones. Even rotting wood and awkward chunks can be wielded, not unlike the primitive bone clubs we once pulled from prey. Some call it savagery, others say it simplicity. There is no doubt something primal within these blunt weapons, but look upon the world and the violence that runs rampant. Have we truly evolved beyond this, or are we simply too proud to admit that civilization is still ruled by who can bludgeon who?

9. Staff of the Divine Mother - A holy scepter wielded by the preachers and priests of the deep. Crafted from bone, worm and marine rot, it is shaped into the symbol of the Mother of Snow. Its watery flesh flows in the shape of fish, following the staff through both land and sea. While often it is simply used as an effigy, to remind followers of the divine Mother who watches and provides for us all, it can be wielded as a weapon in time of need. The fish can be sent forth to assault blasphemers and rob them of both flesh and vigor. From its rotting spells, life is stolen and transferred, granting it upon wielder and devout followers. It is a weapon that uses life to inflict death, and death to restore life. Truly an effigy of our sweet divine Mother.

10. Heaven's Effigy - A figure claimed from the corpse of a ship, and given new life as a mighty hammer. What must have run through the minds of the abyssal followers when they glimpsed such a visage? A being of both man and fish. Is it a thing of blasphemy? For they fill it with rot and bury it under scavenger and worm. Or is it a thing of worship? For they carry it with pride and hold it with devout flippers. In this rotted state, there is no denying it carries the image of the Mother of Snow. Do they think those above believe in her too? Do they see this fallen carcass and see it as a sign of kinship? Or maybe they view it as a sign that she is always watching them and providing for them, as this symbol only enters their world upon a falling carcass. Another gift from our divine Mother...

11. Chitonous Slab - A sturdy shield made from a chiton, whose shell repels all who dare challenge it. Its armor and size allows it to take on countless blows without faltering, while its mantle of spines allows it to return the favor. Even when not wielded it can still protect, as it will latch onto one's back and cover them from cowardly strikes.

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

"Abyssal Weapons"

Since we are talking all about the sea and the folks who live in it, why not dive into the world of weapons they wield? I know some descriptions may not offer much, but the problem is that I wanted to talk about some of them, so thus they all needed a little blurb to justify it!

#weapon design #weapon #sword #shield #spear #abyss #fall of ichor #art #drawing

[mythicamagic]

Purple tremors: a Xiaolumi fanfic (Genshin Impact) ~ Chapter one ~

Summary: Xiao's expression shuttered, before his fingers curled to clasp her hand equally tight. He stepped in close as if to hide her inside his shadow.

"Give your body over to me. The wind will take you. Nothing will hurt you while we travel."

Aka: Xiao finds an injured Lumine on a beach in Liyue after her encounter with the Raiden Shogun.

---

AN: I've been playing Genshin for two months so I haven't completed every main quest yet- hopefully I don't make too many lore mistakes (go easy on me!) I just really love this ship's potential.

Rated M for some mild suggestive themes. Read on Ao3 - here.

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There is a beach she likes to walk across in Liyue. Intimate and hushed like a lover’s rendezvous point, it lies South-East of Wangshu Inn; perfect for a quick glide from the inn's Waypoint if one felt like letting the wind comb through their hair.

Tonight she took off her heels and wandered barefoot over the white sands of Yaoguang Shoal. It slumbered quiet and undisturbed at night. Whatever Hilichurls or enemies that usually prowled the shores were absent or sleeping at the foot of the cliffs, posing no threat.

Closing weary eyes, Lumine tilted her chin up to the cool, gentle fingers of a sea breeze. It ruffled her hair playfully, briefly inspiring a half smile when it reminded her of Venti. Mondstadt and all its residents felt so very far away right then. Even as she walked in Liyue, her mind was back in Inuzuma.

Lumine watched with a kind of detached awareness as surf climbed up to tease her toes, eventually swallowing her ankles in cool rolling waters with each new push and pull of the tide.

Her fingers shook, and she curled them into loose, trembling fists, tightening a thin shawl around her shoulders that Thoma had given her. The sea looked so tranquil at night, kissed with tender moonlight. She envied its calm and serenity.

Paimon had been left behind at Komore Teahouse, taking a much-needed rest. Lumine absorbed the heavy silence left in her wake. Sometimes the floating spitfire's constant presence could feel a little exhausting, but most of the time Lumine was eternally grateful for her chatter. Because without Paimon everything stopped. The ceaseless unending quiet and nothingness threatened to pull her in with the force of a yawning void.

Aether…

Another twinge, this time like needles in her shoulder- bit deep. Lumine hissed out a tight breath, touching her tender arm. The skin felt raw and fragile, as if it could split open at the slightest scrape. She could handle pain if it meant being one step closer to finding her brother, but lately…it had all felt exceedingly hopeless. A goal constantly out of reach. She was becoming fatigued by straining for it.

Her lips thinned and bent down at the sides. Soon they trembled. Her hand began shaking again, fingers jolting from tiny spasms. Lumine wasn't sure she could command them to lie still this time. The ringing in her ears was only just beginning to subside.

"It's unusual to find you alone."

Sucking in a sharp breath, Lumine turned. She hadn't sensed anyone in the area, but that wouldn't do much good when trying to locate-

"Xiao," she murmured, taken aback.

He stood a little ways away on the beach, arms folded. Something hard was in his eyes, the luminous yellow flicking over her face quickly, as if concerned.

Lumine faced the ocean once more, hoping to hide her expression. "What are you doing here? It's late."

"Adepti don't require the same amount of sleep mortals do," his curt, even tone reached her ears. As she listened, she picked up on the soft crunch of footfalls upon the sand. "If you're going to chide someone about staying out late, I can think of a better candidate. You look as though you need rest far more than I do."

"Hm, is that your way of telling me I look awful?" she quipped.

"No, never."

When Lumine glanced at him next, she found him closer than expected. His gaze was direct and serious, until he seemed to realise how the fervor in his words might be taken.

"That is to say- you seem tired. More than tired, honestly," he uttered, stepping closer. "Are you alright?"

They were side by side now, a respectable distance between their arms. Lumines skin cried out for contact despite the pain it would probably bring.

There are a thousand things Lumine wants to say. She's surprised he's here and wants to ask about it. Xiao never approached her first. She always called him, and he'd respond. A request and an acceptance. Always- without fail, he’d appear, no matter how busy he may be. It was in those moments she felt his kindness most keenly.

"More than tired sounds pretty accurate for what I'm feeling right now." She forced a smile, pretending to watch the ocean's horizon with her full attention. The silence felt so loud as she waited for him to speak, wanting it. Wanting the soft, solemn cadence of his voice.

"…I might not be the best at conversation," he muttered, a faint rumble in his tone that belied his awkwardness. "But if you want to talk I will listen."

She didn't miss a beat. "I'm fine."

Xiao just stared at her, that intense air about him softening with each passing moment. His brows pulled together briefly, before he sighed. "Lying to an adeptus. I'm sure there must be some kind of karmic punishment for that."

Lumine’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes stung. Everything ached. "Karmic punishment? I think the Archons can dish out punishment personally rather than waiting for karma to do their bidding."

She could feel his ageless attention settling on her again. "Is this about the Raiden Shogun?"

Lumine couldn't hide her flinch. She turned to face him fully, unable to hide her reaction. How did he know? She’d mentioned she’d be heading for Inuzuma but that was the last time they’d spoken.

Xiao watched her pensively for a moment longer before gesturing to her shoulders. Something firm and hard entered his usually calm tone.

"You're trembling. Show me your wounds, Lumine. Now."

"I'm f-"

"Enough," he growled, their faces inches away now. Xiao's lashes were dark yet tinged with teal, just like his hair. Lumine started as he grabbed her by the shawl. "I never took you for a fool that would ignore their own condition if they were injured."

"Xiao, hey-!"

She'd wanted to stop him, had grabbed his arm too late. Her shoulders sang with relief against the cool night air in contrast to Xiao's sharp inhale. The shawl pooled at her ankles.

His own hands trembled the longer he gazed at the damage painting her back with multiple branching marks. Lightning burns wrapped around her bare shoulders, the unique pattern of skin lesions feathered into tree-like splinters that shot down her spine, hinting at the true level of damage her flesh had endured. The red, angry marks disappeared under her backless dress.

The shore began to blur, becoming a murky mix of blended colours as Lumines eyes stung. Hot droplets ran down her cheeks- only to be halted by rough material.

Xiao shifted his fingers, wiping the tears away with rough, awkward scrubs. Lumine blinked, her heart constricting at the gesture.

He looked grim, yet understanding. There was nothing damning inside those eyes despite the punishment he administered to foes. There was only acceptance. For these reasons, Lumine was eternally thankful no one else had found her in such a state. She stifled a sob, bowing her head and trying not to lose it.

"Come with me," Xiao muttered. His hand was offered more gently this time. "I don't know what happened and won't insist you tell me. Still, the fact remains: you need those wounds taken care of," gloved fingers softly nudged hers. "You can admire the views of Liyue some other time. Come."

At his third gentle prompt to take his hand, Lumine internally mused that Xiao had never acted so insistent before. Really though, he needn't have worried about dressing up the offer.

Lumine would always accept his hand.

She took it, cradling it tightly between both of her own like a lifeline.

His expression shuttered, before his fingers curled to clasp her hand equally tight. He stepped in close as if to hide her inside his shadow.

"Give your body over to me. The wind will take you. Nothing will hurt you while we travel."

Xiao was obviously not considering the fact that Lumine had put herself through pain just getting to the beach from Inuzuma’s waypoint, and so fully accepted the idea of experience more just to get to a safe place. She bit her lip briefly, finally inclining her head and admitting defeat. “Alright,” she murmured quietly.

Gusts of gentle winds swept blonde hair back from her face. The air currents gradually picked up into strong gales beneath her feet, lifting her body. Lumine felt herself be cushioned, spirited along via the currents and bursts of air- carrying her right across the waters like a skipping stone until they strengthened, lifting her to new heights above jagged stones. Xiao was a constant presence at her side, occasionally brandishing his spear to guide the winds, but mostly following with quick bursts of speed mid-air. Adeptus energy wrapped around her like a tender embrace.

True to his word, Xiao ensured she didn’t feel an ounce of discomfort. It wasn't long before she glimpsed the tall outline of Wangshu Inn looming closer.

Instead of dropping her off as expected in her guest room that Verr Goldet had picked out for her and Paimon once upon a time, Xiao lifted a hand and unglamoured a previously hidden floor at the inn. Lumine watched with wide eyes as he stepped down onto the highest floor’s balcony, weakening the winds buffering her body to stay afloat until she eventually lowered completely- falling right into his waiting arms. Lumine stiffened, but not for the reasons he likely thought.

“We’re almost there, hang on,” Xiao muttered, guilt passing briefly over his face as he carried her further into the unknown floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and marvelled at the foreign feeling. She wasn’t used to being carried by anyone. The sense of closeness that body heat provided made her hunger for something inexplicable. She didn’t know what she was feeling: only that she suddenly didn’t want to let go. Feathery strands of dark hair tickled her arms as they tightened, looped around his neck. Lumine looked around to busy herself, spotting a bed and several shelves of books as they moved into a private room. Shattered spears lined up against a wall, discarded.

“I’ve never seen your room before,” she observed a few scattered things lying around, as if he’d been in the middle of sharpening his weapon. “It’s messier than expected for the vigilant yaksha.”

Xiao scoffed. “Why am I not surprised that snooping is your main priority in this situation?”

Despite his words, she glimpsed his lips twitch at the corners.

Lumine let herself be placed onto the soft surface of his bed. Xiao pulled away slightly, and reluctantly, she let her arms naturally fall away- hissing soon after at the white-hot sting of agony the shifting muscles evoked.

Xiao’s brows pulled together. His gloved hand caught her chin, tilting it up so that their gazes met. “This next part isn’t free from risks, but if you do exactly as I say, I can help,” he said, something in his solemn expression faltering- exposing a glimpse of true worry. “Do you trust me?”

She gave a faint nod. There was no hesitation. “With my life.”

“Good. Undress.”

----

TBC

#genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiaolumi #lumine genshin impact

[kiwiana-writes]

WIP Word Search

Oh god I've been tagged in this three times—thanks @anincompletelist @theprinceandagcd @hgejfmw-hgejhsf—so now I have a long-ass list of words 🤣

My words were: make, hide, square, edge, atmosphere AND hope, smooth, skin, water, paper AND proud, ceaseless, worried, dark, pointless. I am very literally begging the universe to ensure I don't have all 15 of these in WIPs, but I'm putting all this nonsense under a cut just in case.

MAKE appears in: Climb up and meet the sky

“This isn’t your local flight school’s Cessna, okay? The open cockpit’s the easiest part—she’s got no starter, no brakes, no flaps, no nose wheel. She’s not going to fly her way out of trouble, either; she’ll stall or spin. She’ll make sure you’re aware of every tiny mistake you make, sweetheart.”

HIDE appears in: Chantilly lace and a pretty face

A few days ago it was Between us we have more security than a Taylor Swift concert, who else could it be?; last week was I so appreciate you announcing yourself so I have time to hide my parade of lovers; the first time, though, was Alex’s personal favourite: Are you sure you are, in fact, home, and haven’t stepped into a deeply heterosexist 1960s sitcom?

SQUARE appears in: The way we get into each other's bones [angstapalooza RWRB edition]

Henry turns to Alex, his expression carefully guarded as he squares his shoulders in a deliberate, measured way that is utterly at odds with the carefree boy Alex used to look at in the glossy pages of J14.

EDGE appears in: a super-secret collaboration with @indestructibleheart that we just started poking at yesterday (I have no idea how long it will stay super secret BUT)

There’s a flash of light out of the corner of his eye, the unrelenting glint of sunlight hitting metal, and Henry’s hands curl into fists around the edge of the sink as he looks up.

ATMOSPHERE appears in nothing!

HOPE appears in: [Henry writes]

(Also, in a very chill no-pressure way, I notice you’re not writing as often as you used to -- I hope everything’s going well for you!)

SMOOTH appears in nothing! (Well, lots of things that I've already published but no WIPs)

SKIN appears in: Introspective rimming

Alex moves like he’s trying to crawl inside Henry’s skin, letting out soft moans and shivering gasps that burrow their way between Henry’s fourth and fifth ribs and carve out a place for themselves there, somewhere only Alex has ever reached.

WATER appears in nothing!

PAPER appears in nothing!

PROUD appears in nothing!

CEASELESS appears in nothing!

WORRIED appears in nothing!

DARK appears in: [Stranger Than Fiction AU]

The man in front of him has much longer hair, for one; dark, wild curls framing a face that’s a little softer, with a less sharp jaw.

POINTLESS appears in nothing!

I AM TAGGING @anchoredarchangel @blackandwhiteandrose @indestructibleheart @onthewaytosomewhere @orchidscript @ships-to-sail @stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play!

Your words are: land, answer, spare, funeral, value

#wip word search #kiwiana-writes #wip: climb up and meet the sky #wip: chantilly lace and a pretty face #angstapalooza rwrb edition #wip: RWYLM #wip: henry writes #fic: what a beautiful tone #wip: STFAU

[late-to-the-fandom]

Last Line Tag

Thanks to the lovely @mrsmungus for the tag! I did not get near the amount of writing done on this holiday I told myself I would, but I’ve tried 😅

Tagging: @shipping-through-eternity @themaradaniels @scourge-lover

But it was no longer Denathrius he saw painted there. It was the long, austere years ahead of him; the ceaseless responsibilities stretching into eternity. And, in a moment of brief, terrible insight, he wondered if it was loneliness that broke the last Master of Revendreth.

#tag games #writing games #my writing #renathal x maw walker

[onewomancitadel]

If they do canonize Jaune/Weiss, would you still stick with the series until it's conclusion?

I think the ordinary assumption is that it would be the product of a ship tantrum if I didn't, but because there's so much tied up in Jaune/Cinder and so much that Jaune/Weiss doesn't work with, it's not really just a ship tantrum. I won't deny that wouldn't be part of it, but the general assumption is that shipping is unserious and probably indicates, on some level, one being in a position of textual ignorance. I think that broadly speaking this can be true (I've spectated my fair share of fandom, and I have grown up in fandom myself) but equally it can also be levied as an insult, because romance is silly.

But equally so if I did quit the show in such a circumstance, I'm not working with a level of entitlement here. I wouldn't be mad at it in the sense of them owing me something; I would just have to acknowledge I was either wrong in assigning meaning where there wasn't, or there simply wasn't the thematic consistency there.

I think it's very likely that Ozlem does motivate all of the romances, it's just a matter of to what degree. It's very easy to write Ruby/Oscar, Ren/Nora, Blake/Yang, and then give Jaune a joke romance which kind of happens offscreen/all of a sudden. Just because you have x consistency here doesn't mean it's everywhere else because storytelling is organic and elastic, and sometimes, as an analyst, you can actually put together implicit parallels better than the author(s). Or as I've discussed previously before with Reverse Ozlem, you need to make a positive case for why Jaune/Cinder would be a positive resolution (and not a cautionary or altogether unromantic one).

It's worth mentioning that I have literally quit the show once before! I was inoculated in the shitty end of the fandom during V5 and when everybody was busy mocking the end of the volume (because Haven was admittedly messy) and then celebrating Cinder's death - and her apparent permadeath - I just shrugged and quit because I feared they were right and it was all over. This probably explains some of my antipathy towards fandom and fanon at large because it genuinely ruined my experience of the show and made me doubt my intuition. Does that mean fandom/fandon is bad for everyone? No, I needed to grow a spine, but I take issue with fanon at large anyway.

What accompanies Jaune/Cinder isn't just the romantic pairing but the way it realises Cinder's redemption arc and what I think the pairing represents for the major resolution of Ozlem. It might not be obvious, but I am really invested in the bad wizards who were once in love and made it everybody else's problem, and I want to see them be together again even if that reunion means they shortly pass after. The cosmic wound of Ozlem is one of my favourite things in the show (reincarnated lovers and ceaseless conflict... yummy yummy) and is genuinely what holds the story together thematically and foundationally. It's a huge deal. So the things that interest me about R/WBY are all tied up in Jaune/Cinder. Everything I really love about the show (its unique but totally flagged narrative direction) is there, and is part of what I think motivates the argumentation of the ship!

This isn't something contrary to R/WBY's storytelling! Tonal dissonance is a common issue I see in shipping fandoms. But there's nothing about Jaune/Cinder that refutes R/WBY; it's actually the opposite. It's very playful conceptually. Built right into it is this sense of dramatic and cosmic irony with a very fun remix on knight and maiden which is painful but also very beautiful. Jaune is literally no Prince Charming, and Cinder is a villainess (who is very sad).

So I guess if the stuff I love about R/WBY isn't there, what's the point? Lol. You could try to argue that redeemed Ozlem is still possible without Jaune/Cinder, but I don't think it would be nearly as impactful without it, and like - separately - for Jaune and Cinder's characters, if he's paired with Weiss then they just don't get him the way I do and the way I thought they did, and if Cinder's alone I'll cry forever. The truth is that nobody's ever loved you. I genuinely do not know whom else you could pair her with, and it's very likely in this scenario there would be no one. Even if she got a redemption arc (which again, would be fumbled without the romance and not nearly as impactful. Jaune/Cinder is so unlikely when Cinder's redemption is similarly so 'unlikely').

I get it. This is a long way to cry and stomp my feet and say, "I'll quit if they don't make my dollies kiss!" and it probably comes off pretty poorly. But honestly, R/WBY won me over with Ozlem and it won me over with its story and its spirit. I find Jaune/Weiss insipid irrespective of whether I shipped Jaune/Cinder (long before I got into the ship I never liked it). It compromises both Jaune and Weiss' characters and I can't parse how it's supposed to work and it would just suggest laziness. It breaks a lot of modes of my analysis (e.g. Jung). I like Jaune/Cinder because it augments their characters, not weakens them. It actually gives Jaune something unique to do in the story that isn't stand there and look tall and actually explains why he's in this fucking story to begin with and why they'd spend so much development on him. I don't like that Jaune/Weiss turns Weiss into a passive recipient who's finally noticed the nice patient guy and now he gets the girl as a reward. It would speak to some serious storytelling stupidity.

I've quit once and I'll do it again. Lol. Maybe I would wait for the show to be finished to analyse the fallout a few years later. I take a while to get around to things anyway. But also like, my trust in storytelling is completely dead, and it's actually an extremely emotionally difficult position to be arguing for Jaune/Cinder and extremely uncharacteristic of me. So as much as people probably don't want me here, I kind of don't want to be here either. But I like the ship that much. Very sad.

On the other hand... let's define 'canonise'. I think that at this point, Salem/Ozma, Ren/Nora, and Blake/Yang are undeniably canon. Ozlem since V6 (but they broke up), RN since... I want to say they're canon in the sense they both have romantic feelings for each other and we've always known this to some degree (some childhood friend tropes in anime lead to them never admitting feelings? And the RN spin on it seems to be that they've acknowledged how they feel and will 'grow up' but likely end up back together), and BB, well I personally would've said it was canon back in V6, but most of fandom would definitely agree V9. Ruby/Oscar by contrast is a little more controversial, but I would say that it's canon if you're paying attention. The only reason to write Oscar in the way they did would be as a super special love interest looool. But say, Blake/Sun isn't 'canon' in the traditional sense of being endgame, Blake/Ilia isn't 'canon' in the traditional sense either, etc., and there are times the fandom has celebrated things being canon when they're not (reminder: the whole 'Cinder is definitely dead' thing, and largely I would say a lot of the discussion surrounding Blake/Sun at the time of V4/5 treated it like it was a foregone conclusion. Plus most of the bad fanon).

So I think a lot of people might think Jaune/Weiss is now canon after V9 - and I'm willing to allow that this is what the writers believe to be appropriate development because they abandoned that thread for so many volumes and never even had small interactions like Ruby/Oscar or fucking anything, and as such it effectively amounts to either an about-turn or lazy storytelling - I'm in the position where I'm willing to question it. Between now and V10, my only intention is to complete my fanfic, that is, my works-in-progress currently posted, and then assess how much I am able to write and complete in the interim. I just want to make the most of the time I've got. As I remarked in a V9 reflection post, there is actually... not a lot refuted about anything I speculated in the post-V8 period surrounding Knightfall and Cinder's redemption, if not it has been lent more foreshadowing. So I'm not needing to fashion a new position yet.

There are certain things I'm looking for with R/WBY canonshipping, and things like close and intimate hugs (Ruby-Penny) do not constitute that, and they do like engaging in shipbaiting, to my eternal consternation. But what I like about the R/WBY canon ships are the actual emotional stakes, not the superficial fluffy shit. So if I have some hope they are capable of that...

If Jaune/Weiss met my standard for analysing other definitely canon R/WBY ships (independent of Jaune/Cinder) I would give up the ghost and admit defeat with shipping Jaune/Cinder and then yes, I'd quit the show. I don't care if that sounds petty. Jaune/Cinder isn't just a ship to me. I only started shipping it because these are the things I like about R/WBY, not the other way around.

Thanks for your ask anon. It's a good one.

#seraphina's asks #user: anonymouse #knightfall #seraphina ruminates over V9 #rwby9 #long post #you should expect this type of length by now (:

[majorxmaggiexboy]

The Terror Shipping Nonsensical Babbling - Jopson edition

first of all full disclosure while i am happy to ship this cat with anyone and everyone in this show (except, y’know) Jopson is my designated character per media i get to claim for the aroaces so technically in my world it’s canon that he’s just married to being the best steward on the planet like someone back home will be like “So have you ever thought of marriage?” and he’ll be like “No i’m good” “But Don’t You Want A Wife?” “Nah” “A Lover???” “Wouldn’t have time” “what” *rolls out to-do list* “Okay first of all you need Jesus but second of all-” 

BUT HYPOTHETICALLY 

there’s exactly one of two ways a Jopship could go

1. This is a guy who needs a PROJECT okay this man is a mama duck in the body of a cursed victorian 20-something if he isn’t actively caring for and nurturing something 24/7 he fades into the ether like if he doesn’t have an object of ceaseless loyalty and devotion you HAVE to give him like, an egg or something to take care of until that situation is rectified. Which means ideal candidates will be the poor little meow meows of life the pathetic soggy waffles of men (if women were an option in The Terror he’d go for like, an ex-maid turned weird victorian vigilante she totally killed her last three bosses and probably lives in a trashcan he would love her) okay he needs somebody he can take care of and hype up and enable i mean

2. ALTERNATIVELY and he would HATE this option initially he should be with someone who will be like “Wow, damn, he does everything. I better step it UP” and pulls an uno reverse on him and shows the same level of care and dedication and he’s like “wtf is THIS? NO??? That’s my job!” if he isn’t furious and wriggling like the cat in the pepe le pew cartoons they’re not doing it right. Unfortunately Jopson is tall so ideal candidates for this scenario are absolutely lacking but even shorties can make it work if they’re determined. Get somebody who will either out-soft him by sheer goodness of nature or who will run on spite and red bull and take it as a personal challenge to be as gentle and loving as possible and create a continual cycle of one-upping each other like that

THE CANDIDATES THEN

Luckily for us almost the entire cast of The Terror falls into one or the other of those two categories. So does Catwoman. So,

1. Catwoman - I was joking at first but actually i can see it. It could work. 19th Century Catwoman would be a weirdly ideal candidate. I hate myself

2. I won’t lie the Jopzier shippers know a category 1 when they see it. It ain’t my favorite but i also can’t argue with them

3. Lieutenant Nedward Little is unique in that he fits both categories like, on the one hand we’d get Jopson going “Oh my god I have to fix him,,,,” and trying to kind of lowkey hype him up, especially to Crozier, being like “that’s an interesting point lieutenant the captain would like to hear that he’s actually v fond of u u know” and Little would be like, you know, in tears by this point going “man i gotta step the hell up and be a damn good man” and then he wouldn’t but it’d be a solid effort and Jopson would appreciate it except for the times when Little’s on him to take a break or smthn. They definitely argue a lot but they’re a pretty cute option.

4. Lieutenant Irving is actually also a fit for both categories so Lieutenant Nedward once again knows the sting of not being special, that’s awful. Anyway, Irving is a flaming dumpster fire of a gay man, it’s downright tragic, Jopson would feel compelled to intervene. He’d sit through so many crisis of religion conversations and be so nice about it while also fully calling Irving out on his stupidass opinion so after a certain point Irving would actually be working on himself and would be like “wow I should do something nice” and would do a hard swerve in the opposite direction so he goes from Gay And Angry About It to like, Aggressively Bumbling Yet Well-Meaning Boyfriend like after a certain point Jopson would legitimately have to be like “please let me do what’s left of my job it’s all i have, also we have to improve your sewing” it’s a potentially cute option, they get into little tiffs too but at the end of the day they’re also in fact having an ongoing competition as to who can be the sweetest softest most gentle yet semi-feral bf

5. Henry FOSTER Collins oh my god it’s another category 12 HE STARTS OUT as a 1 like Jopson’s like “This man is on DRUGS?????” and drags him to Dr. Goodsir which starts a chain of events that saves all their lives but hear me out hear me out Collins is reminded that life is worth living and Collins is able to return to being the absolute soft semi-feral teddybear we all know and love he’s like “i will take care of you i will somehow bring flowers i will cuddle for warmth you don’t even have to ask i will build us a goddamn house i will punch tuunbaq in the face if it even looks at you what do you need what can i do for you” and Jopson is probably like “that’s very sweet but nO ACTUALLY” so he’s doing everything in his power to take care of Collins and make him feel loved but Collins is doing everything in his power to take care of Jopson and they’re both kind of stressed out but Collins is hug-shaped, and that is important. Jopson needs a hug that cracks his spine like a glow-stick it’d be so good for him, Collins is the man for the job. Collins also has rly big coat which is super important for purposes i’m sure you can discern

6. DOCTOR GOODSIR CATEGORY 2 codifier. Do y’all understand that if Goodsir falls in love with you you’re set for life? Like you literally never have to worry about anything ever again, that bear could be looking you dead in the eyes going “you’re next” and you’ll still die feeling safe and warm in the knowledge that Goodsir loves you SO GENTLY ngl Jopson would be horrified. He’d probably go through a bluescreen moment of just, “what is happening” just, straight up sheer confusion but eventually he’d be like “Oh. Alright” and would immediately make it his mission in life to be such a ray of sunshine that Goodsir would be like “I thought it was starting to be horrible here but Actually,,,” also it would be cute bc Goodsir would be like “You’re probably fluent in Inuktitut by now, you eavesdropped so much” cue playful argument over whether being in the room to serve tea and happening to be highly observant counts as eavesdropping

7. Ngl i don’t really see it aside from potentially bonding over a mutual appreciation for propriety and shampoo but on the other hand it’s the contrast between the man who will do amazing things to be seen and the one who’s willfully invisible but desperate to be seen by just one person it’s the fact that if Jopson ever caught on that Fitzjames is a Category 1 it’d be like “I Can Fix Him” senses ACTIVATE here comes Validation here comes Unconditional Love here comes Devotion Like You Never Seen Before those piercing slightly cursed knowing victorian eyes are locked on, man, Fitz would be shaking in his boots like Holy Shit and then Fitz would go Category 2 so fast the world would start spinning the other direction

8. Silna stop blocking me they would not get romantically involved per-say but at the end of all things Jop could be a suitable roaming the wild companion for her bc on the one hand he’s respectfully distant on the other hand he literally has to be ride or die in order to live, kind of like a shark if he stops he’ll die so he would absolutely give it 100% into helping her out however possible and she’d be like “If I Have To Be Stuck With A Haunted White Boy Who Isn’t That Doctor I Suppose This One Will Do. They’re not bf/gf, they are Partners. Silna would also clock Jopson as no less than 10% Unhinged and be like “Oh. Okay.” and occasionally side-eye him like *nods to herself* “Ghosts* and not elaborate

9. Hartnell - they would date for like one week bc Hartnell is a category 2 who’s just getting his Bi wings. They’re mutually v soft and adorable but after a certain point they’re both like “Oh okay turns out we’re actually just rly close friends” and it’s like the most peaceful breakup in the history of breakups

10. im including Hickey just to make the note that he is a 1 but even Jopson isn’t that good. He can’t fix that. No one can. It doesn’t even occur to Hickey to look at Jopson and go “I could make him worse” until it’s too late. A REAL contender would’ve figured out Jopson’s slightly insane well before the tent scene. If Hickey can’t figure it out before “I’ve shot smaller hawks than you” he can’t make Jopson worse, he wouldn’t even know where to start. Instead i’m proposing that they’re like, exes who never dated. They were never attracted to each other but Jopson went “I’ve shot smaller hawks than you” and Hickey went *EYES EMOJI* they have a beautiful arc of “strangers-to-can’t-be-in-the-same-room-without-trying-to-skin-each-other” 

11. i’m serious about 19th-century catwoman tho

#the terror amc #PLEASE do not take this seriously i am literally just babbling bc i am bored and lonely let's be friends

[crosspiner]

Down in bermuda shipwreck island

#DOWN IN BERMUDA SHIPWRECK ISLAND FOR FREE#

The ship has a rectangular porthole which is uncommon for most wrecks and the wreckage is spread out about 100,000 square feet of the sea floor which offers ceaseless hours of exploration to the divers.ĭownload Christobal Colon Shipwreck Certificate The ship today lies about 55 feet in water and has become an anchorage for a variety of reef fishes and large groupers. The ship sank on 25 th October in the year 1936 by crashing into a coral reef at the speed of 27 kilometers/ hour or 15 knots. Christobal Colon: The Christobal Colon is known to be the largest shipwreck that measures 152 meters of 499 feet in length and about three decks high.Pictured below are the hundreds, if not thousands, of cement bags that were being carried on the ship before it sunk and they became solid.ĭownload Constellation Shipwreck Certificate The ship now lies at 15-25 feet underwater. While waiting to be guided out of the unknown waters, the ship was pushed into the shallow barrier reef causing her to sink on July 30, 1942. The Captain decided to stop in Bermuda to repair the ship after the crew could no longer manually pump out the incoming water. The boat met her end when she was on her way to Venezuela and came across storms which caused the ship to leak through the seams. She was originally named Sally Persis, but she was rebuilt and renamed The Constellation under the ownership of Mr. Constellation: Built in 1918, The Constellation was a four-masted wooden schooner and measured 192 feet in length.Listed below are 20 shipwrecks in Bermuda which have now become popular diving spots: Always have your dive buddy in sight of you and we recommend you take advantage of our private charters, some of which offer scuba diving, or any of the commercial operators that head out to Bermuda’s coral reef and shipwrecks daily.

#DOWN IN BERMUDA SHIPWRECK ISLAND FOR FREE#

Most shops sell these certificates, but if you really want one, take advantage and download them for free below.īefore discussing the shipwrecks below, always remember that it is dangerous to dive alone. You can download the certificate for free and print it yourself and bring it to the dive shop for a signature from your Dive Master and Operator. If the certificate is available for a particular shipwreck below, click the link under the shipwreck that says, “Click to Download”. When you dive Bermuda’s best shipwrecks, you are able to take a certificate home as a memento. Many sunken ships can be seen by divers, some of which are pretty close to the shore and within reach by dive boats in shallow waters. The mystery definitely contributed to Bermuda being known as the shipwreck capital of the world, but it isn’t because of a mysterious triangle, when you dive in Bermuda, you’ll soon see that there are countless coral reefs and ledges that rise close enough to the surface to sink the largest of ships. Luckily though, we offer 5 Reasons Why the Bermuda Triangle is Fake. The triangle has always been and still continues to be a sphere of interest for many all over the world. Situated at the northwest part of the Atlantic ocean about 580 miles from Cape Hatteras, North Carolina is the island of Bermuda, which is also popularly known as the “Bermuda Triangle”. The island of Bermuda is a great draw for sun lovers because it flaunts some of the best beaches in the world. Group Arrivals, Departures, and Staffing Solutions.

#Down in bermuda shipwreck island

[blahblahwritings]

Breathe.

A/N: Here is some whump. First time writing in over a year go easy. Might write a part two if enough people want it.

Words: 1226

Warnings: Death (maybe), Blood, panic attack, crashing.

You were no stranger to close calls. Working with the rebellion often placed you in harm's way. Although, you never really gave it a second thought, more than happy to throw yourself into whatever work you could to help the resistance, to fight the good fight. Having lost everything to the first order when they wiped out your planet, you devoted yourself to banishing them from the galaxy no matter the cost. Even if that cost was your life.

But then you met Poe and everything changed.

After a recon mission to gather intel on hidden first order bases, you two became fast friends. Then, drunken lovers. Now, each other’s whole worlds. You never thought you would find something worth slowing down for, or someone worth coming home for again. Yet there he was. Of course, you tried to resist it at first. After losing everything you couldn't bear the thought of getting close to someone only to lose them again. But Poe Dameron knew just how to bypass your fears and unlock your heart again. You healed.

Missions would go wrong every now and then, sure. One of you would argue about staying safe out of fear of losing the other but, neither of you would stay angry because it was never genuine anger, just panic and fear. In the end, you were both still alive and that’s all that mattered.

Then today happened. 

You had been sent on a mission with black squadron to take out what was supposed to be a small first order base on a nearby planet. Upon arrival, you had all found it to be much larger than the intel had shown and with far more cannons. As usual, you all stayed focussed despite the circumstances. The team almost finished disabling their guns, then Poe got cocky. He sped directly toward the last working cannon, cheering over the comms in a too-early victory. 

The last you heard was an explosion as his X-Wing was hit. His comms crackled over your headset. Then a ceaseless, unforgiving ringing in your ears. A fireball of metal collided with the surface. You screamed, heart sinking, stomach lurching as you brought yourself down to land. You couldn’t hear anything, not your voice shouting his name, not your feet tearing into the ground below as you rushed to the mangled wreckage of his fighter, not the rest of the team crying out for you to slow down. Just. That. Ringing. 

Your mouth was dry, chest heaving, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you reached the heap of scrap. The cockpit was broken open, the man you love lay face down, flung a few feet from the ship. Grabbing his flight jacket, you hauled him onto his back. He wasn’t breathing. 

Glass stuck out of his gut, blood quickly staining the orange material. Hands roamed his abdomen, trying to stop the bleeding before trailing to his chest to start compressions.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five… Nothing

One, Two, Three, Four, Five… Still nothing

You kept going, reaching thirty and then putting your mouth to his in an attempt to bring him back. You still couldn’t hear anything aside from the ringing. Snap tried to pull you from your lover’s body, from pushing on his chest, from saving him but you shrieked at him to let you go. Smacking his hand away, you crawled back through the dirt to Poe. Still. Lifeless. Sobs tore through you as you continued to try and bring him back. Jess and Kare stared in horror, tears silently trailing down their cheeks. One friend dead, another going mad with grief.

“Come on.” You whimpered, hands forcing his chest down again. “COME BACK.” A shout this time, hands beating on his ribcage. “You don’t get to do this. COME. BACK.” The last two words were exaggerated by your hands bringing two final hard smacks down on his sternum. 

A crackled breath. The shaky rise and fall of a bloodied chest. Familiar parted lips gasping for air. He was alive. Unconscious, but alive. You howled, voice hoarse as you were torn from him. Jess pulled you against her as arriving medics placed him on a gurney to take him home. They kept working on him as you were gently guided alongside him. Your eyes never left the inhale, exhale of his breathing. Even as you were taken home and he was brought to a medical bay, you stared, convinced that if you looked away even for a fraction of a second, it would stop again. 

Medical droids and doctors worked to remove the glass from his center, stitching the gashes left behind and placing a mask over his mouth to aid his breathing. They scanned his vitals, checked him over for other injuries until finally the busy room became quieter. Someone tried to check you over, asking questions about how you were but you still could only hear that ringing, slowly driving you insane. Then you vomited.

Bile splattered across the white flooring, the ringing slowly fading as the adrenaline and shock wore off. Every muscle in your aching body quaked as the events physically caught up with you. Jess was quick to catch you as you fell to the floor, a hand bracing for an impact that didn’t come. Instead, your outstretched hand made you realize you were covered in blood. Poe’s blood. More acid rose in your throat, you moved to cover your mouth but stopped short, not wanting his blood on your face. Jess shushed you, rocking you slowly in an attempt to calm you down as your breathing became erratic. A panic attack surged through you and tears blurred your vision. He was dead. He died and you didn’t think he was coming back. Your head shot up. Was he still breathing? Is his heart beating? Is he still bleeding?

“He’s alright, Y/N, he’s still breathing, the bleeding stopped and they said he's stable.” Jess cooed, rubbing your back as she answered your questions. You hadn’t noticed you’d said them aloud. She grabbed a washcloth from the basin nearby with her free hand, placing it under running water. Gently, she moved you to the chair by Poe’s bedside as your panic attack started to pass. Your whole body felt heavy as she began cleaning the blood off your hands. Every minute or so, your eyes drifted back to Poe’s breathing, then back to your hands as she rubbed them down. When she was finished, she threw the fabric to the side.

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to come away and eat something?” You shook your head in a silent ‘no’. “I’ll let the others know how he’s doing, I’ll be back later.” She finished and left you alone with an unconscious Poe. Slowly, hesitantly, you lifted one of your hands to carefully trace his own, he was warm, his touch familiar and comforting. You intertwined your fingers, leaning forward on the bed. 

There were so many things you wanted to say to him, even when he was out of it. Instead, your head rested on the mattress, eyes watching the rise and fall of his chest. The beeping of his heartbeat on the screens lulling you into a restless slumber. He was alive. That’s all that mattered. 

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #whump #star wars #star wars imagine

[jennajaeger]

I got this idea from @coffeeandmagicaltales, I love the idea of using this Picrew to make your OC x Canon power couple!!

I made Gigi and Jon (The Magnus Archives) <3

#save tag #fictional other: jonathan sims #oc: gigi knightleigh #ship: ceaseless lovers

[lesetoilesfous]

For @alienturnipp, from the angst prompt list for Nanders, “people who are okay don’t act like this”

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Anders

Characters: Anders, Nathaniel Howe

Tags: Awakening fun, canon-typical Circle abuse

Rating: Mature

*

Nathaniel is not, habitually, heavy footed. On more than one occasion, the commander’s Antivan lover had suggested he take up a career in dance, ( “so light are your dainty footsteps, mi amigo.”) He’s not sure whether Anders knows this. This is largely because after three incidents in which Nathaniel had caused the mage to fall into something alarmingly akin to a panic attack, Nate has made an effort to be heavy footed around him.

Still, Anders jumps when Nathaniel knocks on the door to his room. The door is open - Nathaniel has never known Anders to close it, and the mage himself is standing in fairly sparse surroundings looking...lost. The expression fades almost as soon as Nathaniel catches it, like a mirage, Instead Anders gives him a smile as bright and thin as cheap paint. 

“Howe! Wasn’t expecting you...here. How do you do that? You always seem to melt out of the blighted shadows.”

Anders laughs, but the sound rings hollow, and his long fingers shake a little even as he brushes them against his robe. Nathaniel frowns. “Are you alright?”

It’s been three weeks since he and the mage were conscripted by the warden commander. More has happened in those three weeks than most of the time Nathaniel spent soldiering in the marches, but Anders still acts as if he’s only just arrived. It’s...disconcerting.

The mage, for his part, smiles again, “Oh yes, don’t worry about me, I’m not going to go all demon on you.” He wiggles his fingers, as if to emphasise his point, and his light brown eyes flicker over Nathaniel’s shoulder, to the empty corridor beyond.

Nathaniel knows that no one is there - he makes it his business to know when he’s being watched - but he turns anyway, and cannot help but feel the pantomime must be painfully obvious as he makes a show of checking to see if anyone is there. In the low, rainy grey light of Amaranthine it’s hard to tell, but when he turns back he thinks he can see Anders flushing.

Anders claps, and seems to startle himself with the volume of the sound (outside, a few of the mabari start barking, and he stiffens almost imperceptibly.) “So! Does the commander need me? Has she finally realised she has no use for me after all? Time for me to get shipped back off to the Circle? Between you and me, I think I’ll put up a fight. For old time’s sake, you know.”

Nathaniel’s frown deepens, and he moves to cross the threshold into Anders’ chamber, but hesitates. Something at the back of his head tells him that he needs to respect the mage’s space, and whether it’s old prejudice or gut instinct, Nate can’t quite force himself to disregard it. Instead he shakes his head, “Why would you think that?”

Anders laughs, and again, it rings hollow. “Oh, well, you know. It’s been a week and I haven’t been forced to risk my life again, so. I figured…”

Nathaniel cannot shake the irritating feeling that he’s missing something. “She cares about you a great deal. You knew each other in the Circle, didn’t you?”

Anders snorts, and it’s graceless enough that Nathaniel believes it’s honest. “As much as you could know anyone there. And she was younger than me. Mages aren’t allowed to mix with apprentices once we’ve passed our Harrowing.” Anders wrinkles his nose. “I suppose they want to stop us getting attached.”

“Why?” Nathaniel asks the question without meaning to and regrets it immediately. He’s certain he will not like the answer.

Anders shrugs, stiff and awkward in his tall frame. “Most of them die.”

Something of Nathaniel’s shock must show on his face, because Anders laughs - for real this time, though a little bitterly. His long hands flicker through the air like restless birds.

“Hate to break it to you Nate, but the Circle has a pretty high death rate.” Anders laughs again, higher pitched and a little manic. “Would you look at that? I’m a poet and I didn’t know it.”

Nathaniel crosses the threshold. He catches Anders hands without thinking, arresting their ceaseless, anxious movement through the empty air. Beneath his hands, Anders’ wrists are too thin. Nathaniel still isn’t entirely convinced the templars who’d caught Anders were feeding him. The mage, for his part, falls into startled silence. Nathaniel watches his pulse racing through the thin skin of his throat as he swallows, and is reminded of nothing so much as a hare.

But then he looks up into Anders’ brown, golden eyes, and sees the fierce thread of rebellion there (“I think I’ll put up a fight. For old time’s sake, you know”), and Nathaniel realises that Anders has never been anything other than a fox: wily and wild and refusing to be tamed. “What is the matter?”

Anders purses his lips. This close, he smells of the embrium and elfroot he carries with him on his belt. Nathaniel is half surprised he isn’t making poultices now. He usually was. He claimed it helped him think, but Nathaniel isn’t entirely sure it’s not just a habit he hasn’t shaken from making potions for the Circle. 

Anders pulls his arms back and Nathaniel lets him, not following as Anders backs up in the direction of one of the thin, hard pallet beds they used in the soldiers’ dormitories. The commander must have dragged it up here specially, though he couldn’t imagine why. Anders follows his gaze and coughs another laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, that. Sorry, couldn’t sleep on goosefeathers. Too damn soft. I mean what’s laying your head down at night if you don’t wake up in pain?”

Nathaniel decides that Anders doesn’t actually want an answer to that, and presses on to the subject that he’s avoiding. “People who are okay don’t act like this.”

Anders flashes him another sharp, crooked grin and again Nathaniel catches the fire of anger in his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nathaniel clenches his teeth. Delilah had never explained that being kind would take so much blighted work. (He can almost hear the commander in his head, laughing at him for that.) Anders is pacing back and forth in front of his thin, poorly appointed bed, and his hands have started moving again. Nathaniel speaks before Anders’ nervous energy manages to infect him too. 

“You have refused to acquire any material possessions other than that pillow, which you hide most of the time. You are stockpiling food beneath the floorboards,” Nathaniel nods at the one uneven plank which had often been the secret to his own childhood hiding places, “ for reasons I do not understand. You never close your door and yet you seem outright terrified whenever anyone enters a place you consider to be private. If you bathe I haven’t seen it, though I must assume that you do as you have not yet begun to smell. You are avoiding...everyone, but especially the commander, despite her efforts and obvious desire to get to know you better. For some reason you still think that she - or any of us - would turn you in to the Circle without a second thought.”

Anders frowns at that, stopping mid-step to look at him with something that is either curiosity or pain in his eyes. “Wouldn’t you?”

Nathaniel stares at him - and feels, for a moment - his own foolish heart plummet like lead into his stomach. “I - no.” Mouth suddenly dry, Nathaniel wets his lips and tries to speak past the lump in his throat (past the voice in the back of his head, he’s afraid of you, everyone’s afraid of you, just like your father).

Anders’ expression softens, and his shoulders drop. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

Nathaniel blinks, and tries to shake off the feeling of being rooted to the spot. “Of course.”

Anders’ mouth quirks upward at the corner. Outside there’s the gentle patter of the autumn rain against the muddy courtyard, bouncing off the mens’ new armour like a thousand soft, tiny bells. After a moment, Anders sits down, heavily, on the thin mattress, and gestures for Nathaniel to step forward.

Feeling as if he’s suddenly been freed of some strange, invisible spell, Nathaniel does so, almost toppling to sit on the floor in front of Anders as he looks at his hands. Anders breaks the new and sudden quiet, running the fingers of his left hand over the knuckles of his right. “They broke my hands.” The admission is so quiet and so unexpected that Nathaniel is almost unsure he heard it. But then Anders lets out a long, shaking breath and continues. “I was...half drunk with magebane so I didn’t...have you ever felt pain without emotion? It’s so hard to describe. Like shock, I guess. You register that something terrible has happened and that it hurts. But the grief, the anger, the fear. All that comes later. They let it heal naturally. So my hands are crooked now.” Anders splays his fingers in the air between them, and Nathaniel can see now, as he hadn’t before, the way his knuckles do stand a little crooked, the way a nose heals when it breaks. 

Nathaniel’s voice is rough when he speaks. “Why?”

Anders shrugs, and his expression is distant. “I don’t remember exactly. It was whilst I was in solitary. They were always doing…” His features shutter into a mask so impassive that even Nathaniel cannot read it, and he draws in a quick deep breath and exhales again. “It doesn’t matter.” He offers Nathaniel a small smile, and nods at the door. “I keep the door open because I haven’t had a door, ever. When I was a child I was too young and small to have my own room. In the Circle only templars and Senior Enchanters are granted the luxury of such privacy, and I was neither.” Anders nods at the floorboards. “I...One of the first punishments they’d go to was restricting rations.” Anders’ mouth curls into a thin  smile. “I think some of them just wanted to see how long I could go. Caught them making bets on it, once.” Anders shakes his head, as if he’s dislodging the memory from his mind like a cat shaking off water. He spreads his hands wide. “I don’t...know what to do with all this. Everything I’ve ever been told is that I can’t have it. Whatever it is.”

Nathaniel resists the urge to say freedom. He isn’t entirely sure that it’s true. Anders, on the bed, sighs and  slides down from the mattress to the floor, easily framing Nathaniel with his long legs, the tabard of his robe falling heavy and velvet between his legs. Nathaniel averts his eyes. Anders’ laugh is rough and low and warm, and then his (crooked) fingers catch Nathaniel’s head and turn it back to look at him.

“That I understand.” Anders leans forward, until his chest is pressing against his bent knees. He smiles at Nathaniel, sweet and a little shy, and this close Nate can see that his eyelashes are almost as golden as his hair. Anders’ other hand comes up to catch the other side of Nathaniel’s face, and Nate doesn’t resist when Anders draws him closer to brush a kiss against his lips. “Thank you for asking, though.”

For a moment they’re quiet. Far off, from downstairs, there’s the sound of Oghren bellowing and Sigrun cackling, followed by a clattering or armour as one or the other of them gives chase. Anders’ thumb runs over Nathaniel’s cheek, and Nathaniel reaches up to catch his wrist and press his hand closer. He waits until Anders meets his eyes to speak. “I would fight with you.” A shadow of a frown passes over Anders’ brow, and Nathaniel clarifies before he can ask, “ If they tried to take you away. Back to the Circle. I would fight by your side.”

Anders’ mouth twitches into a rueful smile, though the pad of his thumb keeps running softly over Nathaniel’s cheek. “Even against the commander? She’s the Hero of Ferelden, you know.”

Nathaniel shifts closer, letting go of Anders’ wrist to reach up and cup the back of his head, gently, firmly, pulling him closer until their foreheads are touching. “Even her. Against the wardens, the templars, chevaliers and darkspawn, Anders. I will not let them take you. Not whilst I am breathing.”

When Anders breathes out, Nathaniel feels the shudder of it where their bodies are touching. Anders doesn’t look at him when he replies. “Don’t say that. Someone might make you prove it.”

Nathaniel huffs, pulling back to look into Anders’ eyes. “Let them.” He catches one of Anders’ hands and pulls it between them, running his fingers over Anders’ crooked knuckles. “This is not Justice. I’ve met Justice.” He looks up, offering a smile which Anders returns, “He looks like a walking corpse. But, truly.” Nathaniel bends and presses a kiss to Anders’ palm, and watches pink flush through his cheeks like a sunrise. “This is not just. And I will not let them have you. I swear it.”

Anders shakes his head, shutting his eyes as his brow twists with a frown despite the smile on his lips. “I want to believe you.”

Nathaniel holds Anders’ hands tightly between his own, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Perhaps, one day, you will.”

#dadwc #nanders #nathaniel howe #anders #da:a #my fic #alienturnipp

[mitthsyndic]

I didn't have time to proofread this, so let me know if there are any mistakes! I also did a little rebranding of my blog; I changed my icon, header and user (was chlmaera).

Read on AO3.

Summary: Maul embarks on his journey to finally end things with Obi-Wan Kenobi after years of bitter rivalry. With the lingering feeling that he will not come back from Tatooine, Maul pays a final visit to the person he loved most in the galaxy: you.

Pairing: Maul x Reader angst with a bit of fluff (gender-neutral).

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,846.

Goodbyes

Long ago, these surroundings were all too familiar to Maul. The hum of speeder traffic could almost constantly be heard from your apartment; the first few times he'd stayed the night, it had deeply irritated him. In time, he'd learnt to appreciate the ceaseless sounds of city life as a part of your relationship, and how to focus on the noises that brought him joy instead, like your soft singing voice floating throughout your home as you went about the day. He never imagined he'd miss the cacophony of urban living, let alone that it would bring a smile to his face.

The smell of local markets and restaurants would always drift up into your apartment, but Maul much preferred the smell of your own cooking. Whenever he'd come to visit and you'd be standing in the kitchen over the stove, it would temporarily satisfy the ache he'd long had in his heart for domesticity. The ache he never truly allowed himself to give into.

The taste never disappointed him too; the number of exotic spices and flavours you'd subjected him to from your small apartment on a planet you seldom left took him all across the galaxy. You'd always have a story prepared about the meal you made; over dinner, you'd tell him all about the meal and its various components, how you'd discovered it, how you cooked it. He was certain that the love and passion you put into cooking made the meal taste better than anyone else could ever make it.

Despite the lack of space, your home was beautifully decorated; he’d always thought it was a perfect reflection of your inner self. It was so distinctly you that even when he’d been alone here your presence lingered like a veiled phantom; he found it oddly comforting. As your relationship progressed, tabletops and shelves slowly became decorated with various trinkets he’d bring back for you, such as ornaments or unique stones and shells from countless planets business with Crimson Dawn had taken him to. He’d often longed to take you with him to see the galaxy (and fulfilled that longing a few times), but he feared too much for your safety to expose your relationship to the Empire and his other enemies. He felt it pointless to regret such things now, but a part of him still wished he could turn back time and do things a little differently.

He missed the soft touch of your lips against his, and your drowsy yet delicate caresses of his horns and skin in the early hours of the morning. Physical intimacy was not something he’d often allow himself to indulge in, mostly due to his own insecurities, but there had always been something special and comforting in your affection and desire for him. He had fully trusted you with every inch of his mind, body and soul.

And yet, it had been years since he last saw you.

With the help of Ezra Bridger, Maul had finally uncovered the location of his life-long nemesis, Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had practically fallen into his ship and punched in the coordinates, eagerly rushing to put an end to his rivalry with him. Just as his ship had been prepared to enter hyperspace, he paused for a moment. Allowing rational thoughts to enter his mind once again, he thought about the potential outcomes of fighting Kenobi. Although he’d proved a formidable foe, Maul was rather confident in himself that he could finally kill Kenobi. And yet, he simply could not shake the feeling that he would not ever leave Tatooine once he arrived. He would usually ignore a feeling like this, and label it paranoia. But, the logical side of him acknowledged that he was a little (rather, a lot) older than their last fight. Furthermore, he’d spent another time on Tatooine to know just how dangerous it could be. Eventually, he concluded that it was perfectly logical (and not too dramatic) to pay you a visit again, just in case it really was the last time he ever saw you.

And here he stood now, on your doorstep, anxiously awaiting you to answer his desperate knocks. It felt like an eternity before you finally opened the door, a surprised yet pleased look appearing on your face as you recognised him beneath his dark robes.

“Maul? I… really wasn’t expecting to see you on the other side of the door.” You offered him a warm, genuine smile as you stepped to the side. “Please, come in. If you can stay, that is.” “I have a little time.” He passed you and inhaled your familiar scent, feeling slightly more at ease now you’d happily welcomed him in. He paused for a moment beside you in the doorway, and turned to you. “Thank you.”

Not much had changed since he’d last been here. There were a few more trinkets and paintings, he presumed from your own travels since the last time you’d met, but every gift he’d given you remained proudly displayed around your home. The calming familiarity of your apartment brought him solace. He took a seat, and gestured for you to join him as you closed the door.

“What’s wrong? You seem… troubled.” You read his face with such ease as you settled beside him despite the many years you’d been apart. Sometimes, it appeared you knew him so well he felt certain that you were secretly incredibly strong with the Force.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just going on a… mission. I have a purpose. I thought I would stop by on the way.” He knew that you could tell he was lying.

“Good. It’s good to see you.” You stood, and looked over to the kitchen.

Despite your friendly demeanour, it was apparent that you felt a little awkward around Maul. When you were lovers, you would have pushed Maul to tell you how he was really feeling, and he’d eventually relent and allow you to reassure him as best you could. In that moment, he longed for you to pry into how he was feeling, or how he’d been. He knew that it was selfish of him to expect things to be exactly as they had been all those years ago due to the nature of your break-up.

“Can I get you anything?” You asked, eyes glancing between the kitchen and your feet, looking at everything except for Maul.

“No, please sit. I want to talk to you.” He pleaded, a little more desperately than he’d meant to come across. But, you obeyed, and sat beside him once again.

“The nature of my mission is dangerous, to say the least.” He sighed, suddenly feeling the tension that had been apparent to you since he entered. After a moment’s contemplation, he took in a deep breath, and decided to be honest with you. “I am confident as ever in myself, but since I left I have been unable to shake this feeling that I will not return from my mission. I knew I had to see you one last time before I died.” “And if you live?” You inquired, ever the optimist. Your question was sincere, though. He could tell from your expression that you believed him, but were doubtful that his feelings would come to fruition.

“Then I shall finally allow myself the life I have always wanted. I did not leave you because I didn’t love you; for my entire life, I have always been serving a greater evil than myself. Sidious, Mandalore, Crimson Dawn. Hatred and anger have always been my driving factor, and the way I connect myself to the dark side of the force. But, our relationship taught me that there is more to life than revenge and fury. Love, passion, domesticity, you. You taught me to live my life differently from the way I always had; I let myself love and be vulnerable and enjoy the smallest joys the galaxy has to offer.”

“Then why did you leave?” A question that he knew was coming, yet the hurt in your voice wounded him all the same. He couldn’t bear to meet the tearful, pained look in your eyes.

“I could never let myself be vulnerable and happy. There is comfort in familiarity; I understand how to be angry, violent and selfish. I find it hard to understand how to fully love and give myself to you the way you are able to with me. It was easier to go than to stay and learn about the other side of me.” He locked eyes with you, allowing himself to shed silent tears with you. “I feel as though I am finally ready. That is, if you’ll have me. I didn’t think to ask how you’ve been all this time.” “I’ve been good. Nothing much has changed, but I’m happy.” You broke eye contact with Maul, mustering up the courage to be as honest with him as he had been with you. “It took years to recover from the heartbreak of losing you, and yet I never truly healed from it. No other lover could have ever filled the void you left. But, I learnt to be happy without you, and in time, my anger towards you subsided, and I forgave you. I understand why you left, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I’m sorry. Truly.” He reached out, and took your hands in his.

“I know.” The two of you sat in silence for a little while, adapting to each other's touch and presence once again.

“When your mission is complete, come back home to me. Life is too short to deny oneself of the things you love. We’ll adjust to however we may have individually changed over the years, and we’ll make it work. Just, promise me that this time you’ll stay.” You broke the silence, and gave his hands a gentle squeeze. They felt a little more rough than you remembered.

“I promise.” Maul felt almost overjoyed at the new incentive to kill Kenobi; he could finally let go of all his hatred, and return home to you. He stood and walked to the door, and you followed. “I love you. I always have and I always will. I’ll see you very soon.”

Maul took your head in his hands and placed a delicate kiss onto your lips. As he went to pull away you deepened the kiss, the urge to make up for lost time increasing your yearning for each other. Or was it the lingering feeling that this really would be the last time you’d ever meet?

“I love you too, Maul. Be safe for me.” You grinned, watching Maul walk away and shutting the door behind him.

The persistent feeling that Maul would not return remained in both your minds as you parted once more, but you chose to remain hopeful. Maul, on the other hand, knew his fate was clear. Regardless, for the first time in a long time, he drifted off to sleep easily, dreaming of the future that the two of you never had.

#maul x reader #lord maul #darth maul #maul #star wars #fanfic

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “The Empty Plate.”

Alright guys, here it is, the reason I haven't been positing for the last week. My first and only attempt at true horror. I have spent hours sitting in the dark pissing myself in order to write this, so I am begging you guys please read it. This is probably the most difficult thing I have ever written.

A couple tings before we get started. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

If you want the full affect of the horror, I suggest reading it in the same way I wrote it, In a dark room with scary ambient noises playing on headphones.

If you dislike horror, I still suggest reading at least parts of  it because it is relevant to the plot line. If you don’t want any issues read it in broad daylight in a crowded room. 

Seriously guys, I have never written something so difficult before please make it worth while :) 

A million hateful eyes glint their fury from the darkness, distant and cold caught up in spirals and clusters of ancient anger and the deepest most resounding quiet. They pull towards each other, spiraling, forever spiraling downwards and inwards into an unknown darkness where, if one were to be caught up, they would be suspended in a state trapped between death and life skewered on the descending claws of time.

We knew man was strange when we first met them, a consumer, one of flesh and of resources and of worlds powered, not by the laws that govern our existence, but by a strange and unknown entity glistening behind their eyes. Man is not man, but a shell powered by something strange, something eerie, something not of our plane. I have argued this many times over the years.

But why will no one here me. 

***

Dr. Krill floated quietly on the bridge in the sallow yellow light of an ambient star cluster. Commander Vir sat Stiff and rigid in his seat. His single green eyes glinting with a fine filmy layer of reflected mucus glinting with the pale sickly yellow of that pallid light. The rest of the bridge was unusually silent many silhouettes holding bated breath expressions dark as the unexpected transmission warbled over the line.

It came in  sibilat whispers, gurgles and and the distant sounds of guttural wailing crackling backwards into the maddening chatter of static. 

Krill examined in mild fascination as tiny hairs, like detached spider legs erupted upwards on the man’s skin. The delicate hairs glittered in response to the insipid, sensuous caress of waxen light down the man’s protruding spine delicate mounds and bumps of bone just visible through the back of his shirt.

The man’s skin had gone ashen like that of a bloated corpse decaying in a static pool of water.

“Can anyone understand any of that.” The man demanded, and despite its strength his voice fell flat crushed and squeezed with the weight of the air around them.

“I’ll try to clean it up sir.”

The transmission had begun without premonition. One moment they had been floating quietly through the vast nothingness of space, and next, they had been bedeviled by this Insidious cacophony of voices that seemed human, though individual words could not discerned.

Under the pressing weight of those horrific voices, the bridge remained hushed as the communications officer attempted to untangle the message.

A shadow fell over the Commander’s back, and a set of three tallenous fingers came slithering down over his shoulder to rest against his clammy skin. Sunny lingered at the Commander’s shoulder luminous golden eyes fixed upon the speakers which still crooned that gastly whispering.

“I think I have it, Sir.” The woman stammered 

“Alright then, let’s hear it.”

There was a long moment of silence, like the catatonia that follows psychosis.

“Help, please…. Anyone…. Please help. This is , colony transport…. 331…. Out of fuel….. Running low on food….. The lights… gone out….. eating ….. Can't stop… requesting help.” 

The chattering began again in earnest rising upwards upwards upwards until a crescendo, until the room was filled with it’s warbling madness, 

“STOP!” The transmission cut and the lascivious whispers died. Commander Vir stood from his chair, “That’s enough.” He finished softly, “Someone take a look in the database for a civilian transport with that flag ID.” He stabbed a finger at their radar technician, “Do you see anything.”

The woman stammered for a moment, spun in her seat and scanned wide unblinking eyes over her console, “Uh ... y-yes sir, I have something, not very far at all, its small, about the size of a colony transport.”

“Well what the hell would they be doing out here?” 

“I have no fucking clue.” The Commander muttered darkly glancing towards the eerie image looming over their pathetic tiny ship still thousands of miles away, psr b1509-58 (nicknamed the hand of god) metastasized into the sky less like the hand of god and more like some creeping eldritch horror. The strange, hand-shaped bluish dust cloud writhed from the blackness grasping upwards towards a ball of yellow red fire.

“ID tag confirmed, Sir. The ship has been missing for... Well over a year.”

Commander Vir blinked, “No, that can’t be right.” He shoved past his chair to peer over the shoulder of the technician his face bathed with a hellish red.

“Yes sir, Looks like they lost contact immediately following warp procedures. They did not arrive at their original destination.”

“”Well, I’ll be damned.” He mouthed standing, “Sunny, prep a shuttle and a landing party, get our suits ready. I want the rest of you to try and hail that ship. I don’t have much hope for these people, but done right, a ship can be stocked with enough food to last a year.”

“But…. Commander, what about….” The man’s voice shriveled and ebbed into silence.

Commander Vir nodded expression sombre, “It doesn’t matter. If there is even the slightest possibility that someone aboard that ship might still be alive, than we have to do what we have to do. Come on Sunny, let’s prep a team.”

***

The mood leading up to this mission had been one of inexorable unease, though none of the men or women could really have explained why. Only the Commander had heard the full recording, and as he sat in the pilot’s seat of that shuttle he felt the cold hand of dread slip around his chest, an icy choking feeling on his heart in a way that he had never experienced before, and wished never to experience again. Outside that shuttle window, the icy blue hand of god had beckoned them silently into the lap of eternal darkness.

The civilian transport appeared as a black cancerous spot on god’s wrist,swelling outwards in their vision sprouting sharp, black spines like charred bone pierced through skin. The entire ship, was like that, the mangled corpse of something that had once been now lurking in the shadow of space. But it was odd despite the feeling it gave him, other than the absence of lights, the ship appeared….. Mostly whole. It didn’t look broken down, dilapidated or in any way decommissioned.

It was just, Still, and silent.  

-

The airlock doors shuttered open with a protracted squeal. A wave of putrid humidity washed over them from the pitch black interior. That humid putrefaction slithered past them causing delicate crystal drops to form over the face of their visors foreshadowing nothing but a world of ceaseless decay from within.

And now they had come to stand before a bottomless pit of profound blackness, assaulted by a lurching humid wind that dragged her feted tentacles over his body. Commander Vir felt it, a presence like the weight of an unwanted lover pressing against him with putrid rotting flesh wet and slimy against his bare skin. Like a tongue caressing seductively up his neck, and towards his mouth.

A sensation so malevolent and vile, that began in his stomach, a tingling tightening sensation which wriggled up his throat bringing with it a horrific eruption of tingling beginning at the back of his thighs, trailing up his sides across his back and into his head.

His entire face erupted with that same tingling sensation. His nose and eyes prickled with unshed water, his throat constricted, his cheeks tingled, his teeth gritted. He felt as if he was about to scream, or weep. The impenetrable wall of darkness before him was not just a simple darkness….. It was a message.

GET OUT!

A warning.

Every human in that airlock, every marine, simultaneously erupted into a mass of animal panic. Lights flickered on wildly swinging towards the ceiling as if expecting to see a face come scuttling towards them from the darkness.

“Fuck this.” one marine whimpered crouching low to the ground his weapon raised towards the darkness. The aliens that accompanied them stared in abject terror at the response of their human counterparts. But they could not feel it, the creeping slithering, horror.

“What’s wrong.” Sunny demanded, her voice echoing out around them, thundering down the passageway, not making it very far before being consumed by the dark. 

And it was as if, all around them, the creeping malignancy went…. Silent.

Stopped as if holding its breath.

The humans shifted uneasily in their space weapons pointed into the darkness, though the beams of their flashlights seemed to terminate long before they should have. Despite waiting, the feeling from earlier did not return, though Commander Vir still felt…. Something. It was strange, like the buzzing of flies or a soft humming just out of range of hearing, or perhaps a sound just deep enough to be undetectable by humans, but still acknowledged by the unconscious parts of the brain. 

Whatever it was sent the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as tiny shutters ran up and down his spine.

The darkness stretched on before them.

One of the marines stepped back breathing loud over the intercom inside his helmet, “Commander, we shouldn’t be here.”

Adam agreed.

And he had never wanted anything more than to agree with the marine, and turn tail. But he knew that wasn’t an option, “Stand your ground marine, we have an obligation to these people.”

The group was somber, “I want two of you to stay back with the shutte. Make sure to keep in constant contact with the ship and update them on our progress, the rest of us are going to keep going. I am going to have our hazmat team meet us down here with body bags. With the way everything is looking ...” His voice fell flat on the dead air, and the marines stayed uncharacteristically mute.  

“I’ll take point.” He said lastly, and that seemed to at least galvanize them into action. Pulling his weapon more tightly to his shoulder, Adam faced down the halway following the cold steel line of the floor as it traced it’s way up into blackness, and then vanished. 

He took a step, and listened to it echo into the dark passageway down further and further along what seemed like an endless distance. 

His heart throbbed, and that same tingling sensation from earlier erupted over his cheeks, “Sunny.” he muttered quietly, Reassured when her voice came over the line distorted and warped, but otherwise familiar.

His team continued on softly, pushing back the reluctant darkness with the beam of his light. The floor ahead of him was bare and clean.

“Commander.”

Reluctantly, he turned to the side just slightly to get a look back at his marines, though his eyes still fixed upon that impenetrable blackness, “What is it marine.”

Ramirez’s face was gaunt in the yellow pallor of his helmet light giving him a sickly jaundiced appearance if not that, than the appearance of wax read to drip off a melting candle, “I can’t do this.” The man’s voice quivered with a strange hum that seemed to match that distant buzzing, “I have to go back.”

“What’s wrong marine?” The commander wondered, “We have to keep going.”

“If you can’t tell why than you’re a FUCKING IDIOT” The marines went absolutely still with shock. Staring at their companion in utter disbelief.

“Ramirez, what the hell.”

“Not cool.”

The man began to rock on his heels, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, “We shouldn’t be here.” The mareine was shaking his head erratically, “We have to go. We shouldn’t be here, we shouldn’t be here, we shouldn’t be here.” His voice once frantic, raising in pitch and desperation.

“MARINE, calm down!” Commander Vir snapped, “Get ahold of yourself!”and the man quieted, but continued to rock refusing to move one step more.

“Someone take him back to the shuttle.” The commander ordered, and one of the marines quickly volunteered, glared off by his companions. Commander Vir could see it in their eyes, what for a moment seemed like terrible…. Ravenous anger.

He shook it off and turned back to the darkness. Inside, his chest was suddenly  filled with the feeling of a thousand scuttling spiders digging their way into his lungs clambering through his alveoli, yet they continued onwards. The pale yellow gleam of their lights continued to show…. Nothing, nothing but the long, dark hallway stretching into blackness.

They came upon a few doors on their way down, which the marines cleared  in their usual fashion, but what they found was no more than storage rooms and offices. It all seemed well at first, stacks and stacks of boxes piled atop one another, a desk stacked with papers, the chair pulled out as if waiting for its occupant to return. The life support lights blinked a soft green to demonstrate that they were working.

Commander Vir stared into one of the storage spaces, and inside he felt a deep sense of dread and unease, but these were simply boxes, just stacks of boxes, nothing to worry him at all/ They even checked behind the crates out of a sense of paranoia, but there was nothing to be seen. Out in the hallway, Sunny, and a team of marines kept their eyes down the hall.

Commander Vir turned to position.

Why had those rooms bothered him so much.

It was just then that a deep, prolonged moan echoed down the hallway. The marines snapped into position facing down into the blackness guns raised. Commander Vir felt a rush of bubbles into his nose and throat. 

“The fuck was that.” Someone was saying

“Where did it come from?” Demanded another

“It came from behind us, I swear!” 

“Shut the hell up all of you!” The commander snarled, “Our ship makes noises like that all the time, it’s simply the beams settling, that's what happens when your ship is in a vacuum.” The marines went silent again. Inside his head the background buzzing intensified, like the static of a TV or the distant muble of a vacuum cleaner.

Inside his suit his hands had gone icy cold. Little eruptions of tingling rolled up and down his left side, like the response one gets when a sensual whisper caresses the ears. His palms and feet were horribly cold, his jaw locked, and his teeth gritted. His face felt as if that distant static had somehow made its way into his skin. Metal clattered and clanged vibrating up into the souls of his feet. The inside of his suit was hot while simultaneously being freezing cold. His only safety came from the reassuring weight of a weapon in his arms.

The floor fell away before him as the dying moan seeped into the metal below his feet and above his head. 

Above his head… he hadn’t thought about above his head, and the horrendous feeling of being watched.

Watched by something….. Something stretching down from the ceiling in long gelatinous strings, just inches from his head!

In a panic he dropped to one knee thrusting the muzzle of his weapon upwards images of wild eyes and rotting flesh burned into his mind. Behind him the marines cursed or screamed reacting as their Commander had.

His light fell upon the ceiling and saw…. Absolutely nothing.

Breathing heavily, Commander Vir cursed. His entire body was a mass of static tingling, like his very skin was infested with maggots. His heart beat so hard and so fast inside his chest, the only thing he could hear was it’s frantic beat, “F-false alarm.” he stammered, unable to shake the feeling that something HAD been reaching for him. There was no way a feeling that potent could have been so wrong.

They continued onward, and as he listened, the echoes branched outwards seeming to reach upwards filling a substantial space around them. The marines fanned out in a wide semicircle,  two facing back in the direction they had come. 

“Cargo bay. Alright marines, this is going to be basecamp. I want those portable floodlights set up, and a guard on any and all exits at all times. Once we have secured the area, I want our other teams to join us.” Honestly, they didn’t really need that may marines for this sort of operation, but Commander Vir was well and truly disquieted, and that trepidation made him eager for more guns.

***

“How’s he doing?” Commander Vir asked, standing at the center of a brightly lit cargo bay made that way by no less than twenty portable floodlights.

Krill’s voice came crackling over the line, “Ramirez… it’s strange, he says he’s feeling better, but he looks terrible, clammy skin pale, rapid pulse. I can’t find anything physically wrong, so I’ll probably get a consult down from psych. He wants me to tell you he’s sorry, says he doesn't know what came over him.”

“Tell him it’s alright, we were all sort of freaked.” easy for him to admit in the comforting light of over a dozen spotlights, but beyond that, where the radius of light gave way to the darkness…..

“Oh… and captain, there is probably something you should know. I wanted to tell you earlier, but you had already left.”

“Oh, go on.”

“It’s Conn.”

The commander stood straighter surprised, “Conn, has he woken up?”

Krill was silent for a moment, “Not exactly, but a few hours ago, he started moving around, mouthing things. His eyes are open, but he doesn’t seem to be registering anything. He seems aggressive agitated, and the uh…. Glados and the others seem very upset too. I have waffles taking care of them, but it’s only so much ...”

“Guess everyone aboard the ship is freaked out, eh, anyway, keep me posted.” He finished the conversation and motioned to a group of marines supervising the setup of the hazmat team, “Alright, you guys, on me, we are going to get this party started.”

Since boarding the ship, and seeing that the life support was still functional, they had chosen to take off their space suits, for gear that would be less cumbersome in close-quarters combat. Commander Vir was still not entirely sure that taking off their respirators had been a good idea. The instant he had pulled off his helmet, he had been nasally accosted by a sickly sweet, rotting pungence that permeated the air and wriggled itself into the very fibers of his soul. 

It was also a heavy smell, one that crawled deep into the nose and implanted itself at the back of his throat. So pungent were the smells, that, he felt like he could almost taste it, and was forced to fight bodily against his gag reflex as bile bubbled into his throat. He had quickly ordered better respirators from the med bay, and was currently sporting their crew’s newest fashion trend, a hard plastic mask that strapped around the back of his head but giving his full coverage over his mouth and nose.

Despite their heavy presence aboard the ship, going on almost half a day, no living being had appeared, that in itself did not bode well, considering the remaining options.

Either, no one was still alive to appear.

Or the living had chosen not to.

As for that feeling from earlier? Well here in the floodlit cargo bay, he could almost ignore the distant buzzing of static, and the chills had died down to a cold clamminess, but beneath all the bustling and movement, it was still there, like the ringing in one’s ears that establishes itself as a high pitched squeal, unheard when talking or working, but deafeningly loud when the quiet takes over.

A team of marines formed up around him, augmented by an extra woman to take the spot Ramirez had left. Somehow, she managed to seem surprisingly unphased while the rest of them were close to pissing themselves. Generally, at this point, he would have fallen back to direct from the rear, but left it up to one of the more experienced marines while making his way to the forward middle just behind the woman from earlier. 

He knew how to clear a room ,though this wasn’t his area of tactical expertise.

“Ready Commander?” The marine called form the back.

“Ready when you are, marine.”

“Tac lights on, we are going to do a slow sweep, pause the stick at every door keeping watch forward and rear, middle clearing rooms. Let’s go.”

Behind them, comforting glow of the floodlights faded. To their right, the marine on guard duty for the passaged looked at them with an expression of trepidation, her eyes wide and glinting wetly with the dull glow, “I’m not sure if it’s just the ship, Commander, but I… it sounds like there is something down there.”

He did not particularly appreciate her warning though it was taken into advisement.

Soon, the comforting cacophony of the cargo bay began to fade warping and melding into a strange distant hum. The light dimmed with it, leaving only the thin beams of their flashlights to cut through the murk. He could feel droplets of condensation beading onto his skin in hot, humid droplets. Beams of their flashlights cut down the hall moving and warping shadows across the hallway and floors. The distant buzzing from earlier grew louder and louder, until he was accompanied by a continual stream of static.

Their footsteps thudded loudly on the meta floors despite every attempt to stay quiet.

Halfway up the hall, a warm gust putrid wind blew past them carrying with it a soft, mournful moan. The marine at their head slowed casting her light over the distant hallway.

“Everything alright, marine?” The commander wondered.

“Yes….. I just, for a second I thought…” She trailed off shaking her head, “Nevermind.”

The hair rose down the back of his spine.

“Two doors, right and left.” The point marine called, coming to a stop just past that point. 

“Clear door.” The column stopped, and Commander Vir turned to assist a marine on the left, while another two took the door on the right. 

They found nothing more than abandoned storage rooms, stacks and stacks of crates illuminated in the light of their torches, and continued onwards.

Something plagued him at the back of his mind.

“Commander, the methane levels are climbing. Same with Hydrogen Sulfide.” The group remained quiet at the news.

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, surrounding them in a dim bubble of light crowded on all sides by darkness. The hallway ahead was silent and empty but for the writhing of shadows. 

“Opening.”

They were directed into a quick fan pattern, one of their members facing backwards against the pursuing wall of darkness as they came into the room. The ambient glow of their torches provided just enough light to illuminate some sort of dining hall, or a kitchen. It was an eerie scene in the dark, chairs pulled form the sides of tables, waiting to be pushed back in abandoned plates left with moldering crumbs upon the counter. Cans and cartons were left abandoned to spoil, like whoever had been here had left in a  hurry and never bothered to return. A single lone chair sat isolated in a corner washed of all color transporting them into a dark, alternate dimension of black, grey eeriness. 

Long reaching shadows stretched grasping fingers into the darkness.

The illumination of their tac lights roved about the room in a thin nebulous columns showing nothing of great interest….. until

A hunched figure came into sharp relief against their lights. 

One of the marines cursed, lights quivered. The commander raised a hand.

Even from here, he could tell the man or woman was dead.

Slowly he motioned the others into the room approaching the corpse himself. Not so much a corpse anymore as grinning skeleton. As the light washed over it, the sockets of the eyes sunk into deep pools of blackness. Teeth, still white in comparison to the stained brown bone, grinned at them with a horrid gap-toothed smile just visible through a ragged tangle of drying hair which stick in vein-like trails over the moldering bone. 

The skeleton was undisturbed.

It sat at one of the tables slumped heavily against the wall. Dried brown stains coated the floor and wall around the corpse in a discolored puddle. The putrid discoloration had oozed onto the wall and slowly wormed its way into the minute seams leaving a cracked and drying crust behind it. The clothes, still somewhat intact, clung stiffly to the bone, rigid and brown with dried residue. 

But strangest of all was how the corpse sat, propped against the wall bony fingers still clutched loosely about an oxidized fork and knife, a pristine white plate sitting before him on the table. Aside from a small amount of dust, and residue shed from the hands, the plate was….. Clean.

The man looked as if he had died while sitting down for a meal, though there had been no food on his plate.

“Its like he just… sat down and died.” one of the marines whispered 

Just then a horrendous screech and crash shook quaked the room. A moment of sheer intense panic seized the commander, like the feeling of being constricted from all sides. The static in his ears roared to a crescendo as their lights sent shadows into a crazed and ghastly dance. Adam would have sworn he saw something large, and fleshy skitter away into the shadows just as his tac light fell on a pan still rolling and rattling against the floor. Frantically he panned his weapon in a tight arc, over the floor and across the walls. 

The sound of skittering, like the movement of a million bugs washed over him, so intense he felt as if he could feel the little creatures crawling up his body, burrowing into the fabric of his clothing, and crawling into his ears. His skin crawled and squirmed with a thousand maggots. They invaded his shoes, squelching between his does, filling his mouth and nose, worming their way down his throat.

He could feel them crawling on his insides carving tunnels just under the skin of his back. 

He gagged against the feeling batting at his arms and neck dropping his weapon on it tac sling to bounce against his upper thighs as he swatted at his face and skin spitting and gagging. 

Something grabbed him by the arm, “COMMANDER!”

The feeling vanished.

He stood in a cold sweat tingling like his entire body had fallen asleep quivering with the remembered feeling.

“Commander, are you alright.”

Adam dashed a hand across his mouth expecting to find bugs, but found nothing more than strings of saliva. He wiped his mouth again, “Shit, what the hell was that?”

“Nothing, sir. No one SAW anything, and we were guarding all the doors.”

His body trembled. So, either it had somehow snuck in, or it had been here the entire time….. If there was in fact anything there? Perhaps one of the marines had brushed the pot handle as they walked past causing it to slip and vibrate against the floor. 

He took a deep breath, unable to quell the urge to spit another gobit of phlegm onto the floor wetting his cracked lips with a raspy tongue, “Deploy the micro-drones. Have them get some samples and take pictures, then we will take care of the body.”

While his orders were being carried out, the rest of the marines busied themselves searching the room rummaging through cupboards and drawers though one marine had backed himself into a corner nervously sweeping his light across the floor and ceiling.

There were no more disturbances, and they found nothing but stacks of tins, boxes and packages. They came across a drawer full of pristine, dusty, coated utensils, but nothing remarkably out of the ordinary. 

Radio calls were made, and another team came to collect the body. Commander Vir watched from a pool of darkness as the yellow-suited hazmat team worked to peal the skeleton from it’s cracked juices. WIth enough urging the bones came apart, and the man was slowly disassembled into his component parts and crammed into a black bag whose surface glittered and shone like freshly pourn tar. 

His hands were the last to go, rusting metal utensils wrestled from the still clutching fingers, and left abandoned on the table next to the glittering white plate.

The sull, hunkered in a bed of its own bones, gave him one last knowing grin, before being zipped shut. 

The hazmat team retreated with their group of marines, taking with them the rustling of their suits, and the solemn comfort of their voices. Again they had been left in that dark colorless place surrounded on all sides by the ghost of an evening that would never come to pass. 

There was no knowing how long it had been stuck like this, though a thick mat of dust covered the floor. Nervously he glanced towards the fallen pot, but the ground was far to disturbed to determine what had actually happened.

But perhaps that was a hand-print?

No, it couldn’t be.

“I’ll take point,” He announced stepping in front of the female marine as they made their way into position. He wasn’t technically supposed to be here, but the fear…. The fear was starting to overcome him. That feeling, from the first moment they had stepped onto the ship, that cold icy sensation that licked slowly up his back to the point behind his ear. His skin crawled and his heart hammered as he tucked his weapon against his shoulder in a low-ready position. The only thing keeping him here was the desire to protect his marines.

Stepping into the hallway, his imagination wandered with him into the dark. His marines sitting silently on the floor of an abandoned back room, their bodies withering with the slow decay of time, their flesh dripping like candle wax from their bones forgotten in the slow progression of time as the cold darkness of space surrounded them, lost and entombed forever.

He shivered, “Door right.” He called, just before his light passed over a second door, “Door left.” He called out taking a few steps forward into the darkness and stopping while the marines readied themselves to breach the room. He kept his body at a slight angle head cocked towards the doors so he could hear, eyes looking off down the hallway. He heard the door open, and the marines entered. It must have been a larger room, for it required more than one marine to actually enter and make the sweep.

He heard them speaking, calling out to each other, and tilted his head just a little further in their direction eyes, momentarily, closer to the marines than it was to the hallway.

And that’s when the sensation came, a malicious presence  rushing headlong  from the darkness, a scuttling evil presence fed by spiteful purpose, carried by the slapping of wet feet, and hands upon cold metal. WIth a cry of alarm, he whipped around expecting to find the ravening beast leap at him from the darkness.

But, as before, there was nothing, nothing but the endless dark hallway stretching back into the gloom. Another sluggish breeze cut past him bringing with it a deep and tenuous moan. 

The commander felt sick to his stomach, his hands shook and his face tingled. Tears pricked at the corners of his vision, and inside every fiber of his being told him to turn back. There was something wrong about that presence, something more horrific than any monster or beast, though that’s what he had called it in his haste.

Though he had not seen it, he could feel it’s malicious intent, its hatred, its unholy evil.

An emotion no animal could comprehend, no alien reconstruct.

A human emotion.

-

He told no one what he had felt when they returned, though Sunny seemed suspicious. The rooms had been sleeping quarters at one point, all the beds put neatly away, dusty family photos left forgotten atop nightstands and laying about the floor. It seemed odd how deliberately the beds had been made though family photos were discarded upon the floor.

Though he wished for nothing more than to turn back, he forced himself to keep going reminding himself constantly of the companionship giving him by the marines, and Sunny. 

They cleared several more sleeping quarters, multiple offices and the occasional storage room, though all were left in similar states of, perfect tidiness or abandoned disarray. None of it had been touched in months. He was beginning to wonder if they would ever find the rest of the crew, when the buzzing began.

It was a distant sound, similar but not holy the same as that soft malefic buzzing that had plagued him through this journey. It was, somehow, more substantial, and as they moved down the hall, the sound swelled, louder and louder and louder until it was almost deafening. 

“Methane readings are extremely high commander.” 

In response, Commander Vir panned his weapon about the hallway causing a beam of light to cut upwards onto a set of doors as well as the ceiling and floor beneath, and stopped. The ground outside the door was coated in a glistening greenish-black sludge, the door itself was lacquered in, hot thick moisture, and, somehow, a trail of rotting putrid mold had begun festering upon the ceiling above the door.  The buzzing was louder now, louder than it had ever been, and inside Commander Vir knew what he was going to find.

And for that reason, he had chosen to switch spots with the female marine behind him. He didn’t want to do it, but he knew it had to be done.

He positioned himself to the side of the door, and motioned for a marine to open it.

The doors slid open with a sickening squelch. Commander Vir took one step in, and then stopped as his tac light fell on the opposing wall. The very room itself heaved a breath as the walls and floors around him pulsed and throbbed expanding and contracting like a writhing vat of putrid decay throbbing like the beating of the ship’s oversized heart.

And the sound a gelatinous high pitched squirming in time with deafening, droning buzz.

Behind him, a marine wretched.

“Not in your mask dammit!” one of the others yelled at him

Commander Vir, couldn’t move. He was frozen on the spot hands like ice knees locked. His stomach clawed its way first ito his pelvis, and then into his throat seeking escape. The feeling returned, maggots crawling through his skin chewing their way through his brain and out through his eyes. He could feel them, as real as anything slithering about his body. 

“Holly mother fuck!” one of the marines whispered, and he too turned away to gag. Finally, commander Vir was able to step away backing out of the door and ordering it closed behind him. 

“Call the hazmat team and get them down here. We have a lot of work to do.”

-

When all was said and done, a staggering sixty percent of the crew was recovered. Krill ,ordered over as the ship’s coroner, had been forced to use skulls to count bodies and determine at least sixty percent of the crew was present. Commander Vir tried not to look at the small skulls instead forced to face the reality that,  some of the crew were still in the active stages of decomposition, which, as Krill explained, meant they had died within the last month, some at least within the last weak. He felt his heart sink.

Perhaps, if they had been a couple days earlier….

The issue was, the bodies were in such a state that Krill was having a hard time figuring out what had been their cause of death. Another team of marines returned from the other end of the ship, towards engineering and reported that they had come upon a locked door. The door, they said had been marred with many strange scratches and dents. They were forced to open it with extreme force, and upon coming inside, they had been, again blocked by stacks and stacks of equipment apparently used to block the door. 

Another ten percent of the crew had been found inside….. 

Nothing was making sense, a least nothing except for what the engineers had found when they inspected the warp core. Whatever it was, it had been a catastrophic malfunction which had taken out all central power to the engines, and sent an emp burst which permanently fried their long-distance communications. The backup life support generator had survived though the main one had also been taken out in the blast. The transmission itself had come from a short-wave radio stored in a sort of faraday cage in engineering. In space, the signal would be practically useless, which is why they hadn’t picked up on it earlier. 

The message from earlier repeated on a loop. 

Those bodies were only just beginning to bloat, and Krill determined cause of death on all subjects to be asphyxiation characterized by petechial and subconjunctival hemorrhaging about the eyes and under the skin not to mention ligature abrasions about the neck. 

truthfully , having Krill here was simply a formality…. No one had been surprised about their cause of death…. Especially not after they had been found, alone, in the dark gently swaying side by side. Not alone…. Even in death.

The real question was…. Where was the other 20% of the crew? 

There was only one small section aboard the ship that they had yet to explore, and Commander Vir wagered to guess they would find their answers there, on the bridge.

-

Most of the ship had been explored by this time, flood lights had been set, and informal safe-zones had been set which included a small team of marines and three to four of the massive floodlights. They began the staging of their last push in the kitchen where the first corpse had been found. It was him, three marines, and Sunny, who with the other female marine had shown no great reaction to the strange eeriness of the ship. The other two had been with him since the beginning, and were damned if they weren’t going to see it through.

He adjusted the mask waiting for the other marines to ready themselves.

His eye was caught by a strange and unusual glint. Turning his head, his eyes were brought towards the darkest corner of the room, isolated from the floodlights and a wide ring of caution tape. The single, white ceramic plate from before glinted at him from the shadows it’s surface empty and glistening, though still coated in a layer of dust.

It seemed out of place, though how a plate could be out of place in  a kitchen remained a mystery. 

He turned his gaze away as the marines announced their readiness, and together, they began their trek down the hallway, now lit by a hundred pale orbs of light lining the path to that first door, which was now sealed off with caution tape, beyond that, the darkness began again. Despite the sealed door, the Buzzing was still there to remind him of what lay behind that door.

A fly landed on his cheek, its hairlike feet sending shivers up his skin, and he swatted it away in disgust knowing form where it had spawned.

He stepped over the greasy smear of brownish film and aimed his flashlight down the rest of the hallway, there were many doors here, though only this one seemed to show hints of what it contained. The bulb in his light flickered and dimmed before brightening again.  He moved forward with his team switching on and off the point position as he moved, sometimes waiting outside, and sometimes falling back to clear a room worried for what his marines would find.

He opened a small door himself, while the two others checked the hall and two more remained on watch. It was a small room no more than  a few feet wide with exposed piping and electrical circuits. He reached out attempting to flip on the main breaker, but other than a dull thud, the lock remained stuck and silent. He rolled his light over the floor and paused in confusion when he saw it resting against the far wall.

A can of what appeared to be brand-generic tomato soup. Head tilted to the side, he slowly crouched, and reached out a hand for the can.

His hearing exploded as the high pitched keening swelled in his ears. All sound dulled, and his vision went white fading slowly to black, the light of his flashlight had gone grey and white, tingles erupted down his back, crawling into his face and bringing water to his eyes. His very body trembled with a sense of terror so profound, it was as if the devil himself stood at his back. Even as he thought that, he could sense it, a hateful rabid demonic presence, crouched just behind him. He could feel its hot, rasping breath on his neck, could sense it’s soulless black eyes boring into his soul, and almost feel those slime-coated teeth chattering with anticipation. The sensation was one so deeply profound it was like being stared at by a thousand eyes. The buzzing static in his head became a hissing whisper, a maddened warbling.. The world around him was a slowed grey expanse of eternity, trapped in a state of indescribable panic. Darkness slowly rose up behind him, the presence lifting thin, elongated arms, too long for its body, fingers too long for its hands spreading outwards like he was sprouting an unholy set of wings.

Plunging downward

A hand came down on his shoulder, and he screamed with raw inhuman terror entire body contracting violently away from the touch.  Time around his was ruptured, and he clattered against the wall, sending the can of tomato soup spinning across the floor.

“Commander!.”

The marine stood over him with wide confused eyes.

Commander Vir gasped and panted against the gut-wrenching panic that still gripped his chest. His vision was tunneled into blackness, and all the shapes around him appeared indistinct, “How long…. Have you been there?” He stammered.

“I came to check on you sir, you'd been gone for like five minutes and we all got worried.

Five minutes…. That hadn’t been five minutes. He checked his watch, but the marine was right, 

“Are you alright, Commander. Do you need to head back?”

“No I…. I’m alright, just… let my paranoia overcome me is all.” The marine reached out a hand, and the Commander took it standing and trying to conceal the fact that his legs were shaking.

There were only a few more rooms left, after all. The door shut behind him closing on that can of tomato soup inside.

The next three rooms were clear, though unlike other places aboard the ship, they did show signs of recent use. Running a light obliquely over one of the surface walls, showed raised discoloration from an oily set of hand prints going all around the room, high onto the walls, and across the floor to meld with similar footprints.

Otherwise, the room was empty.

There was only one door left.

Sunny and the female marine set themselves to the side of the doors allowing Commander Vir and the other marine to breach the room. Commander Vir stepped in first sweeping his light from the nearest corner over and around the center of the room. The other marines took their corners, and together they moved inside.

The bridge, didn’t appear much like a bridge anymore, all the consuls and equipment had been unbolted and stripped from the floor. Stiff, brown fabric buzzing with flies had been strung up from the ceiling and down onto the floor giving the room a strange alien quality to it, like they had walked into a cave, or perhaps the throat of some virulent beast.

To add to the strangeness of it all, almost every available flat surface was piled with open containers, bottles and glasses and jars of water. Pillows lay discarded across the floor their generally white casings stained with filth. The jars themselves seemed to make a pathway through the room.

Sweeping his light forward, Commander Vir followed the trail of stained cloth up towards the end of the path, where a single, stained chair still remained bolted to the floor. It was a large chair sat atop a raised dais, though it was slightly tilted to one side.

The Captain’s chair.

All around it lay bodies, piled together in grotesque poses of death locked into place by rigor mortis 

A horrific amalgamation of naked flesh and rot. These people, they lay together in a mass pile before the seat, somehow reminding him of a thrown as if these people had been prostrated in ritual as they slowly expired.

“The fuck.” Whispered one of the marines

Commander Vir remained silent, his eyes roving over the scene before him. The bodies themselves were in a general state of decay, though in better preserved condition than the ones before. 

Slowly he moved up the aisle boots making a soft thud against the unseen metal below his feet, muffled by the crusted fabric. A single body atop that pile stood out to him, in the wan light of his torch, it’s skin glowed a sickly, pale grey, like the body of a decaying maggot. The thing, more creature than man, was horrifically thin it’s spine protruding like that of a rabid, starving dog, so thin and knobbly that it’s joints were thicker than the surrounding body parts.

Its fingernails were blackened.

Commander Vir paused to take a closer look at the body drawn in b some heinous curiosity. The other marines stood behind him examining the pile of corpses.

“No…. no no….”

Commander Vir leaned in further.

“What?”

A shuffling behind him and a soft, “They were EATING each other.” 

It was then, he realized many things at once…. The missing 20%, the blocaded door, the tomato soup, the clean plate, the storage rooms still full of boxes, the kitchen.

And the fact that this corpse was still chewing slowly, and rhythmically.

“COMMANDER RUN!”

The chewing stopped, and an eye flashed open, a delicate cerulean blue consumed by a black pupils and surrounded by jaundice yellow sclera.

He had no time to react.

He screamed falling backwards as the thing slammed into his chest. His tac light was thrown to the floor and sent spinning across the ground. The room erupted into chaos. He kicked out with one foot catching the creature in the chest and knocking it backwards. It skidded back across the floor on all fours, the greyness of it’s skin thrown into sharp relief, an amalgamation of bruising and torn open sores still weeping clear fluid and infection.

He scrambled backwards, and it scuttled after him. Light rolled around him like a strobe giving him only glimpses of the creature as it crawled towards him gnashing yellowed teeth overcome by bleeding, decaying gums. He scrambled for his sidearm running into something soft, and moist at his back. The lights flashed.

The creature plunged from the darkness, its ragged black nails scrambling for his neck.

He caught it by the arms pushed backwards into a putrid mass. Fabric tore and bone cracked desperately he strained against the creature flailing arms. It was inhumanly strong as it pushed them through the mass of corpses tumbling onto a field of open jars.

Glass shattered. 

Water erupted around them. The thing began to shreak so loud that his ears rang. His hand slipped, and the creature got one arm free, more glass shattered. He could see the gelatinous film coating the creature's eyes, watched strings of saliva drip from it’s open mouth. It pulled its hand back fingers curving into talons pressed close together.

“THE EYES.”

The hand came plunging downwards towards his face, and he scrambled back kicking and screaming. The hand came down, again and again and again stabbing down towards his eye. He tried to catch the creature’s hand, but was only able to block it.

It screamed.

Glass shattered as he deflected it to the side it’s fingers stabbing into the glass coming back bloody.

It straddled him by the hips fighting to gain both hands as it jabbed at him again. Greasy black fingernails rocketed towards his face, seeking his eyes.

Teeth gnashed and champed.

Screaming form around the room.

It grabbed him, and together they plunged through a tear in the fabric. Something sharp crunched beneath him, it grew darker, light dissipated by crusted fabric. 

He felt it coming towards his face catching the creature’s wrist. Light grew in his vision, withering black nails inches from his face. It pressed down with all its might quivering closer and closer to the surface of his eye.

Something glinted at him from the darkness.

A panic, and desperation the likes of which he had never felt overwhelmed him flooding his body with strength. He screamed, wrenching the creature’s arm from his face, grabbing it by the side of the head, and thrusting it bodily sideways.

The things scream was cut off by a sickening crunch.

The glinting, the tip of a jagged broken rib.

He lay there, on his side against a field of bones staring into the glassy face of this…. No… not a creature.

A man.

A man with shocked cerulean blue eyes faded in death strings of white-blond hair still clinging to his diseased scalp, and the ore he looked the more human the thing became. A man in his thirties emaciated diseased, probably in pain. Commander vir looked down and saw a jacket tied loosely around the man’s waist.

Pinned to the collar was a dull set of captain’s bars.

For a moment it was as if he could see his own face staring back at him.  This man, he could be any one of them.

He felt his body heave, and he scrambled away clawing his way through the opening and into a field of broken glass.

“Don’t shoot!” Someone screamed.

“Commander!.”

On hands and knees his body heaved violently again his nose tingled, his throat constricted. Tears leaped to his eyes. The heave turned into a sob, but he choked it back down, staggering to his feet his breath heavy and warm inside the mask. Someone rushed to help him, while another shined his light through the opening.

“Holy shit.”

“Commander, are you ok?”

He waved the marine off his ears ringing, “Order everyone back to the ship RIGHT NOW.”

His orders were not questioned. A radio went on somewhere, and two of the marines helped to support him as they walked down the hall. His body felt numb, it wasn’t that he couldn’t move, but he couldn’t feel his feet on the floor.

Eventually someone else took over for the marines. Two arms supported him from the side, in a strong inhuman embrace. Sunny tried to speak with him, but his mind was too focused to acknowledge her. They had to get out, he had to get them out. He refused to go forward unless he could see his marines checking constantly behind him as they went. Anyone they saw along the way was ordered back to the ship. Leave the equipment they could get more.

He stood in the cargo bay surrounded by bodies filtering through the doors calling out names and checking off crew manifest.  Shuttles were launched back to the ship, and he refused to leave until the last shuttle was opened.

Together with Sunny, and his original team of marines, he stepped onto the shuttle. The darkened hallways lined with cheap LEDs stretched back behind him. Something clattered sending echoes up the hall. A marine sealed the door with a sharp his, and with unwavering hands, Commander Vir piloted the ship into space eyes locked forward, body still feeling nothing.

The light that hit him upon returning to his ship was the most relieving sensation he had ever felt, like taking an elevator to heaven from the depths of hell. The crew waited in the cargo bay as they exited the shuttle waiting with fearful, wide eyes. The marines especially gathered around him, but at that moment he felt….. Nothing.

He looked at the marines. He had to make sure they were ok, “The lot of you, get yourself up to psych RIGHT NOW!”

“But captain.”

His voice dropped low, “Argue with me again marine, and it will be the last thing you do.” 

The group stepped back

He lifted his head, “THAT GOES FOR THE LOT OF YOU. Anyone who stepped foot on that ship or even listened to that transmission better have a psych referral to me by the end of the week on my desk in signed in TRIPLICATE from all three of our attending physicians psych and medical otherwise. NOW GET MOVING.”

No one questioned him, and standing there in the crowd, he felt his body go numb. Cold sweat rolled from his temples and down his collar, he began to shiver violently. His hearing still hadn't come back from earlier, and he was beginning to feel lightheaded his heart pounded even as a great sense of exhaustion came over him.

Before he knew it, he was sitting on the floor. Someone was speaking to him, though he couldn’t concentrate enough to make it out. Only that memory, of the repeated hand jabbing downwards towards his face.

More voices muttering, they elevated in shock, and a second later something cupped him gently about the face tilting his head back. The movement was gentle almost caring. Lights blinded him for a moment, but then a face resolved itself in his vision, paper white, humanoid and with wide black eyes.

“Conn.” He muttered.

“Sleep, Commander, and I will ease your fear.”

A sensation, like someone pouring clear warm water into his thoughts. His shivering died down, and he felt himself float away.

***

Humans don’t die easily.

And sometimes when they do, when they should leave, they linger.

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #HUMANS ARE WEIRD #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia #horror #humans are spaceoddities

[artdaily7]

Give me the Splendid Silent Sun by Walt Whitman 1 Give me the splendid silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling, Give me autumnal fruit ripe and red from the orchard, Give me a field where the unmow'd grass grows, Give me an arbor, give me the trellis'd grape, Give me fresh corn and wheat, give me serene-moving animals teaching content, Give me nights perfectly quiet as on high plateaus west of the Mississippi, and I looking up at the stars, Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturb'd, Give me for marriage a sweet-breath'd woman of whom I should never tire, Give me a perfect child, give me away aside from the noise of the world a rural domestic life, Give me to warble spontaneous songs recluse by myself, for my own ears only, Give me solitude, give me Nature, give me again O Nature your primal sanities! These demanding to have them, (tired with ceaseless excitement, and rack'd by the war-strife,) These to procure incessantly asking, rising in cries from my heart, While yet incessantly asking still I adhere to my city, Day upon day and year upon year O city, walking your streets, Where you hold me enchain'd a certain time refusing to give me up, Yet giving to make me glutted, enrich'd of soul, you give me forever faces; (O I see what I sought to escape, confronting, reversing my cries, see my own soul trampling down what it ask'd for.) 2 Keep your splendid silent sun, Keep your woods O Nature, and the quiet places by the woods, Keep your fields of clover and timothy, and your corn-fields and orchards, Keep the blossoming buckwheat fields where the Ninth-month bees hum; Give me faces and streets—give me these phantoms incessant and endless along the trottoirs! Give me interminable eyes—give me women—give me comrades and lovers by the thousand! Let me see new ones every day—let me hold new ones by the hand every day! Give me such shows—give me the streets of Manhattan! Give me Broadway, with the soldiers marching—give me the sound of the trumpets and drums! (The soldiers in companies or regiments—some starting away, flush'd and reckless, Some, their time up, returning with thinn'd ranks, young, yet very old, worn, marching, noticing nothing;) Give me the shores and wharves heavy-fringed with black ships! O such for me! O an intense life, full to repletion and varied! The life of the theatre, bar-room, huge hotel, for me! The saloon of the steamer! the crowded excursion for me! the torchlight procession! The dense brigade bound for the war, with high piled military wagons following; People, endless, streaming, with strong voices, passions, pageants, Manhattan streets with their powerful throbs, with beating drums as now, The endless and noisy chorus, the rustle and clank of muskets, (even the sight of the wounded,) Manhattan crowds, with their turbulent musical chorus! Manhattan faces and eyes forever for me. Vincent van Gogh 1888 The Sower, Inspired by Jean-Francois Millet, Kroller-Muller Museum, Otterlo

#Give me the Splendid Silent Sun #Walt Whitman #Whitman #Vincent van Gogh #The Sower #Jean-Francois Millet #Millet #Art #Poetry #Fine Arts #Poems #Painting #van Gogh #with all his beams full-dazzling