#i don't know if you folks will find that blog interesting... but i hope at least some of y'all do..
Text
An Ode to Serelia
[π·πΎ+, πΌπ³π½πΈ] || Part Two
[π°ππππππππ ππππππππ: πΆππππ!πππππ πππππ’ π‘ πππππ!ππππππ]
[π³πππ πΏπππππ]: 01/01/24
[π°ππππ]: Displeased is the siren who weeps, a sister stolen leading to her finding the man who helps her to her feet.
[π²π ]: blood, graphic violence, torture, gore, body horror, violence, character death, murder, loss of a parent, angst, mention of suicidal thoughts, smut, loss of virginity, creampie, inexperienced!reader, possessive!Simon
[ππππ π²ππππ]: 23,720
πΏπππ’ππππ If you're intrigued in the music I listened to writing, there's a link to the spotify playlist, enjoy !!
[π°/π½]: HIIII !! This is the story I mentioned the other day on my blog, it's here, it's written (hopefully to a decent standard) and it was a lot of fun to write and I hope you have fun reading it !! Also I did change up the appearences of sirens a little for the sake of being #unique and #different. Greek mythologies version would have been interesting, though I'm unsure how exactly a bird with the head of a woman would translate into a cod fanfiction so please forgive my creative liberties.
Also, there may be the possibility for a part two cause I have an idea if you would like that pls let me know!!
Comments are always appreciated, please let me know what you think... unless you think it's the worst thing you've ever read, then tell me, but in a nicer way pls, i.e. 'bless you, you tried' or 'hmmm, I've read better, good try though!'
(I'm very sensitive).
HAVE FUN!!
P.s. Rhymezone and me were besties while i was writing this. Also I figured out how to make the text tiny... I'm learning guys!!! And sorry for it being so long, tumblr was literally lagging near the end of writing this whoops.
Also!!! Share any request you have for me in my 'Ask me anything'!! I'd be happy to write more alt aus with different characters :))
Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!
ｑο½₯:*:ο½₯οΎβ
,ｑο½₯:*:ο½₯οΎβｑο½₯:*:ο½₯οΎβ
,ｑο½₯:*:ο½₯οΎβ
Illuminated in the night,
entranced by the tide,
the sailors always come to you,
such a mistake they make, too little
too late,
for they can never ever run.
Foolish mortal men,
sinking into the watery depths of
a sirens den,
for a woman in the sea
is never
just a friend.
ｑο½₯:*:ο½₯οΎβ
,ｑο½₯:*:ο½₯οΎβｑο½₯:*:ο½₯οΎβ
,ｑο½₯:*:ο½₯οΎβ
Β· Β· βββββββ Β·π₯ΈΒ· βββββββ Β· Β·
In the dead of night, you awake to a glow. It's seemingly stretching out its arms, calling out to you.
The orange light bends and warps with the movement of the sea, the rolling waves and glaring light for the moon creating a mixture of light which creates a celestial shimmer on the scales on your tail, reflecting off of your black eyes as you turn your head up in its direction.
The muscle in your chest is pounding, muffled words running through your ears as you keep your eyes trained on the light pushing its way from the shore all to make its way to you.
A full moon is never a good thing, although, submerged in the depths of the sea, you find it difficult to make out the shape of the glowing orb in the sky.
Her light confirms your worst fear, though, your eyes struggle to make anything out.
Even at night, the coral surrounding your bed is sleeping, nature reserving its strength for another troublesome day of battling against the grubby hands of the legged folk who rule both land and sea with an iron fist.
'Don't go meddling with the folks of the land, my dear, for trouble is the only thing ye shall find.'
It's the lesson of your mother which courses through your mind, like a shock of adrenaline through the body, a dopamine which has your hands trembling while sitting in quiet contemplation.
Land folk are dangerous, maniacs who believe they can possess the land and all that walks upon it.
To own the world, you would have to be mother nature herself, even then, her presence is discounted for because one of the land folk has in abundance what she lacks: golden coins.
You're familiar with these things, these little circular items they carry on their being, sometimes in small leather pouches, recalling a few of them being in the pockets of silly sailors who though they had the right to the place you and your sisters called home.
During their time spent, they toyed with the land as though she herself can not feel, taking and taking, so much so, you feared your initial silence to their actions would have resulted in you being damned for an eternity.
They massacred most of the fish, took your food as though it was theirs to take, discounting the creatures in the surrounding water. Greedy were the city folk, both of these golden things and your food, so, you followed the rule your mother had introduced.
Holding you on her lap, she looked at you and your delicate little frame, placing her hand against the wound on your tail.
Blood drifted in the the water, swirling with the current of the water and you sniffled in your mothers lap.
How terrible the wound was, throbbing as she plucked seaweed from out of the ground, using it to cover the cut.
The wound had been the fault of the land folk; they mistook you for a fish you supposed, though your little mind really didn't care to stop and acknowledge the truth of what happened.
The hook they had caught your tail with sat beside your mother and as she picked it up, she held it before you, watching as your eyes grew wide, nearly bulging from out of your little head as you began to squirm on her lap. What a monstrous little thing that contraption was, causing such hurt when it was the size of seashell. Keeping it in your view, she shushed you, opening her mouth, showing you her pointed teeth as she cupped your face with her other hand.
'My poor Urchin,' she lamented, 'it can do no harm now; it's not in the hands of the city folk, it's in mine,' she soothed, yet, despite her words you found that your throat was clogged as you recalled the morphed faces of the men who had caught sight of you when you had been caught.
'Is it because we hurt the bad people that they're doing this to the ocean?' you quietly asked, choking out your words as the gills either side of your neck opened.
It felt as though the hook had been stuck in your throat, ripping the insides as you struggled to the words out while sitting on your mothers lap. 'Are we bad people, mama?'
'No dear, we protect the sea and do the job the Lord made for us, it is the folks on her back who are the bad people, we're submerged in her soul, you see, keeping her from harms way and the cruel games of the true beasts,' she firmly stated, 'we hide from the enemy, covered in the current of what gives life to take the lives of those who are much too greedy for this world,' she lectures, 'so you mustn't pity the land folk; if they stray too far from their home and into yours, it is your duty to keep them away.'
'Even if we hurt them?'
'A lesson taught, is a warning sent, my dear,' she sweetly said, 'for a thieves broken neck is easy to repent.'
You acted that day as your mother had intended all those years ago: cruel, brutal, and unforgiving.
By the time you had finished, the water surrounding you was branded with their blood.
You gasped and choked, spitting out chunks of sailor from out of your teeth, plucking chunks of their cotton shirt out of your mouth the remains of a fish bone; it was far too stuck for you to use your nails, no matter how sharp they are.
You cleaned your teeth, watching as the bodies with their organs descended to the bed of the ocean with their gold coins in your hands while their pockets were filled with stones.
It was payment for their crimes and in death, they paid you to keep their bodies down, away from their families, for, you thought of the children on the coast.
They very well may be human, but they are undeserving of seeing one of their own in such a way.
You felt little when as you watched them sink, and upon reflection, all you ever feel is remorse for your silence.
Had you acted sooner, well, you suppose it would have saved you a trip to the deeper part of the ocean when hunting for food.
In the midst of your exhaustion you find your thoughts again, realising in your moment of contemplation, the little light grew closer to the edge of the coast.
Placing your hands against rocks, you push yourself from out of your reserved mellow cove, cocking your head to the side as you reach your hand outwards toward an orange fleck of light which greets you with open arm.
Exiting the cave, a flurry of bubbles pour pass your lips as their chants grow louder, as though they too are underwater.
Your pointed ears twitch as you push forwards through the water.
Your eyes are heavy as you push through the water, growing closer and closer to the source of the light, the sudden shift in the brightness causing them to sting.
You keep your eyes on the mysterious glow, rubbing your face with your hand, the long nail on your pointer finger catching the edge of your lip. Hissing, you watch as a faint trail of rouge seeps from your mouth, pressing the tips of your finger into the wound. Still, your eyes are unmoving, much too interested in the glowing beyond on the water.
Then, you hear voices.
It's the voice of humans, their low grumbles, cheers and chants causing the water surrounding you to vibrate from their ferocious tongues.
'I found one papa!'
Shifting, you turn your head towards the surface.
Whatever they have found is not for their hands, you sure of that much, and your stomach grows weary.
Oh, what catastrophe are they going to muster tonight? What are they going to use for sacrifice?
Your throat begins to knot, its as though someone is pressing their hands around the gills on you neck as your mind races.
One by the ocean is one of your own. Who else would have landed up on the shore? But it can't be, no it mustn't be; they're smarter than that.
No one else is awake at this hour, you have the consciousness of only yourself and the land folk.
Why would an Urchin be so far out that the spliced fingers of man could get to her?
No, they're in their caves, keeping their ears out for the horn of a ship, or perhaps the merry song of a sailor.
As you break the surface of the water, the waves of the ocean brush against your head, rain pouring from out of the sky, The breeze against your skin rendering you breathless.
You're guilty of feeling a crude interest take hold of you as you peer towards the sure, before ultimately deciding to succumb to temptation, following through your curiosity in the hopes to find what has caused such a disturbance.
It's difficult to see, your eyes are trained for the sea, you have little experience on land and the light above is much harsher than the gentle streams beneath the surface.
As you push forward, keeping most of your body underwater, your ears are greeted with more howling.
Their's excitement seeping from off of their tongues, they're bemused with their discovery.
Perhaps it's one of their rituals; you've found, through the time you have been watching them, they're terribly fond of the sacrifice of their own. Their disregard for the very thing they grew from is disheartening, a reflection of their characters.
Their form of sacrifice is truly despicable, against the order of nature, but they do not care for their own. One could be starving at a table full of food, the very table they set, yet, forbidden from touching a single thing all because of another's self importance.
Yet, it is you and your kind who are the monsters.
It's at times like this you long for your mother.
But, with the rain battering the backs of the humans as they form a circle around their special find, you find both her absence and the shyness of the moon leaves crude goosebumps covering your body as you shift in the water.
'MONSTERS,' a silk tone calls as you grow closer and closer, yet, you are forced to stop; the tide is upset, the moon displeased at such a display of savagery.
The thing in your chest stops, your webbed hands forming fists as you crane your neck forward.
'Monsters you are! Let me go,' the voice cracks as more cheering ensues.
'Cover her mouth,' demands one, 'keep her from singing her murderous song; her voice is as sweet as honeysuckle and it is her barbed tongue which has taken our brothers from us, and we will not let it take us! This is for the men we have lost to the creatures of the sea!'
You watch as the waves grow stronger, the rain landing with a slosh against the sea.
It's difficult to keep yourself in one place, both the fire in your chest and the shoving formation of the water urging you to go forward. You know her tone, though it is shredded and brutal as she speaks, unlike the sweet songs you savour.
Serelia.
'No!' she screams, ripping her vocal cords as you see a webbed hand appear from the circle of bodies, blood dripping from down a wound you spy on her shoulder.
Gripping the sand on the shore, the waves from the water brushing against the tips of her fingers and you feel the crashing body of water forcing you forward.
'Please, we would do no harm if you did none toβ'
Opening your mouth, you will a tune to escape you, to pull them away from her to give her time to return to her home. Only, your much too choked up as water floods your mouth, the foul weather proving to work in mans favour.
Pushing yourself further up, you open your mouth, letting out a ghastly wrench as a sudden flood of coldness fills your veins, pulling at your tongue, keeping it pressed against the bottom of your mouth. Your lips quiver from the temperature as you attempt to pry a tune from out of your clogged up mouth.
'I- Illuminatedβ' you swallow another mouthful of water.
Her hand disappears.
You watch as a hand grabs her wrist, hearing her squeal and scream.
The circle of bodies disperses as you see the ends of her tail held in the forearms of a man.
There's a fire in your eyes, a fire enough to leave the sea bloody as your scaled skin and blackened eyes catch a patch of red staining the sand.
The sea betrays you as it sweeps up, carrying away grains of the red sand as the land folk hold their torches up in celebration as blood drips down onto the sand, the ruined blue scales of your sister turning purple in the light of the moon with the mixture of blood which pours from her wounds.
You watch in horror, hands slapping against the water as you look towards the moon nestled in the sky, peering down at you.
In the light of Luna, you recall her face.
Her innocent little face, doe eyes, cheery grin, how her nose would crinkle at the slightest accusation whenever she had done something particularly troublesome. The colour of her tail, how she looked when she sat upon the rocks singing her merry songs for the passersby to listen to.
A gift for the men she was, a gift spoiled by their grubby, wretched hands.
A sister as such spoke with a silk tongue, cohesive, one of your most prized possessions. A chest of jewels from horrid humans simply never compared to the life of one of your own, nothing.
Not even their dastardly golden coins.
Your head grows light as you keep your eyes trained on the humans marching forward, the light from the sticks they carry in their hands growing weary in the distance as the wind grows stronger. It's all too much, the sight of one of your own, the knot in your throat keeps you from gulping down necessary gulps of air. You feel nauseous, an icy chill freezing the blood in your veins.
Sinking back to the depths, your hand is forced and you're kept away from the dreary sight as the current drags you back under.
In the warped complexion of the surface, you see the moon still staring at you and you bark out in fury, 'you backstabber,' you roar, 'I saw my mother in you and you have betrayed our own for keeping you safe,' you continue onwards in your fury, your face contorting as you point up towards the surface.
'She has done nothing, as innocent as an Urchin can be, and you take her? Why not me?'
The current grows displeased.
'We give our lives, all our lives... my mothers,' you heave, placing a hand against your chest, 'I know not the secrets of the land, I don't possess the means to go upon the surface, how- how do we get her back? Why? Why would you take her and not me?' you choke out.
She shifts in colour, you spy her eyes growing red as you look upwards at her. 'She does not deserve to be a part of their game, neither did my mother,' you cry, 'take me, I'm offering myself up, leave herβ'
There's a pull in the current, the rolling waves above the surface plunging downwards with a spiralling head.
You meet the eye of the storm, bubbles escaping your mouth as you bring your hands to cover your face. It hooks you, pulling you into as a ton of water comes crashing down into the small pocket of air you have become trapped in.
The last thing you catch before you're senses are flooded with darkness is the red glint in Luna's eye before you descend into the abyss.
οΌ*β’Μ©Μ©Νβ©β’Μ©Μ©Ν*Λ βΎ Λ*β’Μ©Μ©Νβ©β’Μ©Μ©Ν*ΛοΌ
It's with the crude calls of village folk that he leaves his post.
There have been some form of disturbance for the past couple of nights, and after the first ending him standing on the shore of the town, his eyes being battered with the wind and sea, he found he has little interest in part-taking in the games of the fools. Fortunately, as he raises from his post, peering from out the window, he hears a shift behind him.
His eyes are unmoved by the chaos beyond the warning, his lids only lifting when he catches a child rushing ahead of the crowd of people.
His words are lost in the hollers of the crowd, though, he bounces with such excitement, the type that can only be likened to when a child gets money for chocolate, or even a new toy.
Only, he's acting as though he has won the biggest and best chocolate bar, his little head bobbing as he bounds down the cobble streets, his hand wrapping firmly around an elder mans wrist, tugging him along eagerly.
From behind him, he hears the scrape of a chair and a weary sigh. 'Another call for me? Swear, they cause mischief in the dark they do,' he comments with a hearty chuckle.
Turning away from the window, the red glow from the fire on the end of their torches lights emits an orange light in the room, though, the man before him is covered as stray arms of light stretch beyond his bulky frame, merely able to catch even the side of the man with a mohawk's face.
'Has Price told y' what they're up to? It's been every fuckin' night for weeks straight,' he asks, tugging down the edge of his mask, tilting his neck either side, a crude snap emitting as he does so.
The man standing in front of him offers him a toothy grin, crossing his arms over his chest with a short nod. Muscles bulge against the white cotton clinging to his frame and he readies himself by undoing the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt, pushing the sleeves to the crease of his forearms.
'Apparently, they're lookin' for merfolk or somethin', y'know what Captains like, doesn't 'ave the time for stupid shit like this,' he explains, 'read too many fuckin' fairytales if y' ask me. Couple ships disappear off of the coast and they believe a fuckin' fish did it?' He breaks out into a spell of roaring laughter. 'They call 'em sirens.'
'Sirens?'
'Aye,' nods the slightly shorter man, rubbing the stubble on his face with his hand. 'Sirens,' he adds, 'lore men to their deaths with their songs they do, supposedly, prettier than any lass on the land... sounds like a story written by a man, eh? Beautiful bonnie's with a good throat on em', paradise if y' ask me,' he proceeds to laugh even harder at his own joke, kneeling over as he does so.
It takes a brief moment for him to realise the masked man standing before him is unmoved by his comments.
Awkwardly, he comes to a sudden stop as he peers up at the man, slowly adjusting his posture, using his hands against his knees to steady himself as he notes the red lights behind him have disappeared.
'Suppose I should go and fetch them back,' he quietly grumbles, 'keep an ear out though, won't ya, Ghostie? Needa make sure they don't try n' sacrifice me to the sirens!'
'Affirmative,' he says briefly, turning his attention away from him, listening to his footsteps against the floorboards as he tucks his gloved hands into his pockets. 'Johnny,' he calls out.
The footsteps stop.
'Doesn't count if I find out y' went into the water to find them yourself,' he warns, looking over as the man nods his head, 'I'll drag you back in and sacrifice y' myself.'
'Gonna take more to get rid of me than that, Lt,' he answers, pushing the door open, 'throw a pint of ale in the sea, an' maybe, just maybe you'd get what y' want,' he laughs, walking out of the door with his hand pressing on the handle of the sword sitting at his waist.
The taller man stands and watches as he disappears into the dead of night, shaking his head in his direction.
'Fuckin' hell,' he grumbles to himself before turning his attention back to the chair he'd perched himself upon, grabbing the dagger he had set down onto the table, grabbing the cloth sitting beside it before kicking his feet back up onto the table, watching as Johnny disappears past the window, heading towards the crowd of chaos.
Turning his attention back to the dagger, he eyes himself in the refection, noting the redness of his eyes before rubbing the cloth over its smudge surface. 'Lost their fuckin' mind, can never excuse shit in a reasonable,' he grumbles to himself, 'better chance of Price quitin' smoking than there is the chance of fuckin' sirens,' he continues on, lifting his head when the candle perched on his desk flickers.
'Bloody lunatics.'
As he sat in the silence of the station, he finds his mind wandering. It's unusual for his mind to ever really escape him, although, with the sight of that little boy jumping up and down in such a manner he finds it difficult to shake a niggling feeling which is poking and prodding at his temple.
His excitement was evident, that much was obvious the longer he focuses on the memory.
If such is the case, if there is truly something behind the little boys excitement, he's there, sitting on his ass, doing absolutely nothing while the man is left to deal with everything to come from whatever has been found. There's something different about the tone of the people, he sees it well.
Terror trickles in, one head at a time, passing by the window in a manic flurry.
At first, he doesn't notice, far too interested in the blade he'd pulled from the sheathe resting on his belt to see the chaos unfolding beyond the window of the station. Their words a muffled, and they seem distant as he eyes the popped blood vessels in the white of his eyes. Moving the metal closer to his masked face, he narrows his eyes, rubbing the cloth over the blade again.
The door bursts open, and while unnerved, outwardly he remains still, snapping his head around.
The man who had left no more than fifteen minutes ago is back, his face wind swept and pale as he heaves out heavy breaths, keeping his arm firmly against the door.
His white shirt is soaked through to the skin, the pinkness of his flesh peeking out from under the fabric, his calf high boots marked with wet sand, crunching as he steps a single foot into the Station, not daring to take one more.
It's easy to read his face, though he finds his brow creasing as he realises that the very look on his face is fear.
Immediately he stands up from his seat, the flame of the candle beside him flickering as he does so. Tossing the cloth onto the table, he sheathes his knife, grabbing his coat from off of the back of his chair, throwing it over his shoulders.
'What?' he asks, 'a fight break out or somethin'? Look like you've seen a ghost,' he breaths.
Johnny doesn't offer him a response for a moment, only looking up towards him with wide eyes, unable to pick his jaw up from off of the ground.
'Fucks sake, Johnny, whatβ'
'Siren,' he says quietly.
It's difficult to catch what he says with the rain hitting the window and street beyond the office. His lips curve into a crooked smile beneath his mask as he shakes his head.
Sirens? Is he fucking stupid?
The expression on his face doesn't change, even when he hears the small laugh escaping the confines of his mask.
'A lass was on the shore n' she has a fuckin' tail!' he exclaims, pushing himself up after catching his breath, 'tail blue as the sea, eyes black as the void... they bloody exist.'
'And where is she now? She go back into the water to swim off with her friends, hm?' he asks, 'ride away on the back of a horse with a horn on its forehead and wings too?' he scoffs, shrugging his jacket off, only for a hand to reach out, grabbing his forearm.
'Still on the beach.'
'The beach?'
'Aye.' he says, 'ran as fast as I could, woke Price 'n Kyle up, 'told them they had to get to the beach quick. If they keep hold of her, they're gonna kill her- she's a bloody mess, cryin' and screamin'.'
He pinches himself to make sure he's still awake while staring at the soaked man. In no way can he find a single thought in his mind at this moment to make anything make sense.
In fact, he feels a prickling heat flooding his flesh the longer he stands and processes what has just been relayed to him.
They're real, they're real and they have found one.
Despite the implications, it's difficult for him to miss the worry in his tone, and while what they deem to be a monster has just appeared off the coast of Lakekeep, he's still worrying about its safety.
'We have to go, they're gonna kill 'er, Ghost.'
Fixing his coat, he looks down at the dagger resting at his hip, giving a short nod as the man lets go of his arm.
'Price and Gaz followin' along?' he asks.
'Aye, didn't believe me at first,' confesses the man with a short laugh, 'still can't believe it meself and I've seen it with my own eyes,' he says, stepping back out into the rain.
Ghost follows after him, slamming the door of the Station shut as the head down the cobbled path, their boots splashing in the puddles forming in the tight streets as the rain hits the ground harder.
Their chants carry through the village, washing over the usual silence like a tidal wave, flooding his senses with cries and pleads.
As they edge closer, he can hardly believe it as a woman's voice bellows out, 'MONSTERS!'
It's brittle and broken the way she cries, and oddly, he feels that the voice tugs at his heartstrings.
'Mustn't listen to her speak, Lt,' he says, 'what they said is true, apparently the boy found her on the shore and when he approached her, he heard her hummin' a tune- said it had him in a trance,' Johnny says, looking to him.
'Monsters you are! Let me go!'
Stepping down off of the stone steps, the pair of the pursued the scene, hearing stray voices fall from out of the crowd, demanding that her mouth be covered in order for them to fulfil some form of revenge. Watching on, he catches the appearance of a bloody webbed hand poking out from the crowd, landing against the shore with a wet slap.
It's as though she's reaching out for something.
Following the line of her forearm, he watches as the sea climbs up the shore, touching the tips of her fingers as she continues to scream and cry.
Moving his attention from off of the beach, he looks to the water, eyeing the crashing waves as the wind sweeps the fabric of his long black coat to the side. The water is restless, and with the rain pouring from the black sky, it's difficult to make much out that isn't just raging water.
Although, in the glow of the torches which whip and wind in the wind, the light covers a fair distance beyond land, and he spots something in the water. In the darkness, it's difficult to make out more than a silhouette of what appears to be a human head. Only, after another crashing wave, he catches sight of pointed ears either side of the head.
Something is watching them, yet no one sees it.
'No!'
The scream from the centre of the crowd rips him out from his trance as he turns his head, following after Johnny.
'Please, we would do no harm if you did none to us. Please, let me go!' she screams with all her might, her voice piercing to the ears of everyone in the surrounding area.
The crowd dips as they shift, covering their ears with a harsh wince.
Finally, she's unveiled to him.
A gash in her head is pouring blood down her bare breasts as she fights and writhes against the hold of the hold of the men who keep her captive. Her ginger hair is matted and covered with the blood and sand, as is the rest of her body.
The slits on the side of her neck, similar to the ones on a fishes body open and close as she lets out muffled cries.
His eyes trail further down her battered body, the sight of a blue tail stained with blood greeting his gaze. In the light, it appears almost purple as the blood mixes with the shimmer of her scales.
Screwing her eyes shut, she fights with all the fury in her being, and as he watches her, he feels the same heat he felt at the station creeping back onto him, and despite the harshness of the weather, the warmth beaming from his skin is enough to keep him from shivering.
'Alright, move out of the fuckin' way!'
It's the voice of his Captain bursting through the chaos of the surrounding area.
Turning to look over his shoulders, he catches sight of Price and Gaz walking down the beach, and with ease, Price holds his hands up, his words catching the attention of the the booming crowd.
Silence falls upon them, the sirens cries mixing with the crashing sound of the ocean. The man moves past both himself and Johnny, Gaz standing between the pair of them as he parts the crowd with an astonishing ease.
The gasp that passes his lips when making it to the centre is enough to make even his blood run cold.
There's a moment of silence, the sound of the torches whipping against the wind as he keeps his eyes trained on the back of his Captains head.
Clearly, the cogs are turning, expecting what Johnny had told him to be that of a stupid joke, only, it isn't.
It's real and it's squirming around on the ground, staring Price right in the eyes.
'She's a murderer!' a voice shouts from the crowd, 'her and her people, she said it herself,' the continue on, fury carrying their tone past the cries of the woman on the ground.
Price continues to look at her, and as he looks over his shoulder, catching his eye, he turns back to the woman on the ground.
'Take her in,' he says with a firm nod, 'we'll put her in a cell in the Station for now, figure out what to do with her later,' he continues, looking at the two men who held her arms, 'carry her back to the Station,' he rules, resting his hands on his hips as he observes all the other faces in the crowd, 'as for the rest of y', funs over for tonight, get back home,' he demands.
'We'll take it from here. '
οΌ*β’Μ©Μ©Νβ©β’Μ©Μ©Ν*Λ βΎ Λ*β’Μ©Μ©Νβ©β’Μ©Μ©Ν*ΛοΌ
You awake with a brittle moan.
Your mouth is full of send, a dull ache radiating from your chin as your forehead creases when you look ahead of yourself. You teeth bite down on the sand in your mouth, a disgusting crunch causing you to wince.
Memories are stubborn, not wanting to come back to you, only allowing you to recall the sight of blood on the beach and the crashing waves around you.
With a grunt, you attempt to push yourself up off of the ground, a grunt escaping you as your breasts push against the sand. Tearing your eyes from off of the beach in front of you, you shiver as you feel the water wash up, brushing against your limbs.
Looking to your hands, a startled gasp escapes you as you hold one out in front of your face. No longer are they webbed, no, instead, your fingers are separated. Curling your hand around the dark sand before you, you clench it in your fists, watching as it poured past it. Your hips ache as you shift, placing your cheek back against the sand.
Your head is spinning, you can't think of a single thing aside from the fact that your mouth is dry, horrifically dry.
You muster up what little spit you can, expelling grains of sand as the spit clings the your bottom lip, dribbling down the side of your mouth.
The water moves further up, and as you go to move your tail, you're startled by the sound of footsteps on the beach beside you, only, you're too tired to even check who it is.
I've failed as a sister, so if I must go out like this, then I will.
'Ma'am! Oh fuck, ma'am, are you okay?'
The tone is light, different to what you expected to hear counting you have washed up onto the very same coast you had seen Serelia on the night before... if it was even the same day as her disappearance, that is.
The sand crunches beside you as a shadow looms over you, keeping you from the brutal beams of the sun, a hand pressing against your shoulder.
Picking your head up, you muster out a pained whimper as you look at the man in front of you. Concern is etched on his brow as he stares down at you, shrugging off a piece of clothing, resting it against your shoulders.
Your eyes are narrow as you keep your eyes trained on him, unable to look anywhere else as he carefully places his hand against your cheek.
'Can you tell me your name?' he gently asks.
You swallow hard, your chapped and cracked lips pressing together.
Your eyes grow heavy.
You hear another curse under his breath as exhaustion rattles your body. Your head falls heavy and his hold on you slips away, gently placing your head back against the ground. You hope he leaves you be, allows the sea to swallow you whole so you can be with your own once again.
Two firm hands press against your shoulders, gently guiding so you're lying on your back.
His shadow keeps the sun from you once again as he scoops you up into his arms, keeping a firm grip around your shoulders and tail. his hand slips slightly as he uses his jacket to cover your breasts, and you shift when you feel his hand move lower, being extra cautious to cover up your tail.
His breathing is rough as he rushes up the beach with you in his arms, every step causing you to shift or hiss.
'Sorry, love,' he softly apologises, pulling you closer. You note how his pace slows upon him noticing the pain he's causing you by running, 'do you know where we are?' he asks, looking down at you.
Cracking your eyes open, the back of your neck burns as you attempt to look back at him. Poking your tongue past your lips, sand scrapes against the back of your throat as you open your mouth, all for a hoarse croak to escape your lips.
'Have to get you somethin' to drink,' he says firmly, 'you're okay now, love, I promise,' he reassures, pulling you closer to him.
You muster up a short 'hm', resting your head against his chest, listening to the little muscle in it thumping as he heads up the stairs, taking your further away from the beach.
The pair of you remain in silence and you hear the passing giggles and whispers of passersby as he keeps you against him.
You're unsure of what they're saying, though you're sure they're most likely laughing at your tail.
It's surprising hearing such a humorous reaction from them, figuring they would respond in a similar manner to how they did when you had heard Serelia screaming on the shore.
Mustering up a grunt, you flinch as your body is lightly pressed into a door. It squeals as it opens, and the very first thing you hear is a booming voice. It causes the dull ache in your head to worsen as you flinch.
'Am tellin' ye, it's straight out of a fuckin' fairytale it is,' booms the voice, 'can y'β'
There's silence.
Your eyes crack open as you observe the room you're in.
It's different to home, there's a rich smell, similar to the smoke from the lights on the beach.
'Found her on the beach,' confesses the man holding you, 'Johnny, go get some water, please,' he asks, 'she's got a mouthful of sand, she can hardly speak.'
There's a short answer, you can't quite hear it, as he moves you further into the room, setting you down.
Your damp hair hits the plush fabric of a pillow and something is pulled over your body. It's light, harmless.
'Where was she?' asks an unfamiliar voice. It's low, his accent is thick and as you turn your head to the side, you note the man has a thick brown beard, his hair quite short. Stepping towards you, he rests his large hand on your forehead. 'She's burning up.'
'She was near the same spot as last night where that... siren was,' he says.
It's as though life is breathed into you as you quickly sit up, ignoring the dizziness wrecking your mind. The man quickly pulls his hand from off of your forehead, moving it to your shoulder. 'Calm down, love,' he gently instructs, looking to the man standing beside you, 'you reckon she was attacked by it?'
'Could have been; she seems shaken,' he confirms.
Confusion hits you as you lift your tail, only to find that is has vanished.
As you lift your legs, a distraught gasp escapes you as you catch sight of legs.
Two legs- the same as the three men in the room have.
Quickly, you slap your hands to the side of your ears, your chest heaving as you realise your ears have shrunk, resembling that of the legged folk. Everything seems to come tumbling down in front of you, your head pounding as your eyes begin to sting.
'Hey, hey, you're fine,' hushes the man who found you on the beach. The door opens again and a cup of water is handed to him. Taking a seat beside on the bed beside you, he brings to the cup to your mouth. 'Have a drink,' he instructs.
You want to tell him no, to demand to know what they have done to her, yet, you know you can't do anything until you have something to drink.
So, you press your dry lips against the rim of the cup, allowing him to pour it into your mouth. The feeling is euphoric, unlike any sensation you've ever dreamt of, and you eagerly swallow down mouthful after mouthful of water, taking the cup in your own hands.
You're aware of the eyes on you, but you don't care, drinking from the cup until it is empty. With heaving breaths, your wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, keeping tight hold of the cup.
A hand settles against your knee, and as you look back up, the man who was sitting in the corner is now standing behind the two closest to the bed. You note the man who brought you water has an odd haircut, while the much taller man's face is completely covered aside from his eyes.
It's strange, the fabric of a thick hood pulled over is head, his eyes peering through the holes of a skull.
Is that real?
'Sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to upset you,' says the brown-haired man, squeezing your bare shoulder.
You look at him with your lips pressed together, bringing the cup closer to you as you swallow hard.
Despite his caring words, you find yourself unable to open your mouth- unable to trust him. He's going to hurt you if he finds out what you are, then what? You're forever bound to their land?
'What's the last thing you can remember before you washed up on shore?' he asks.
You look at him with beady eyes, and the man with his hand on your knee pats you gently, 'you're safe here, we're not gonna hurt you,' he reassures. 'You seemed panicked when we mentioned the mermaid, does it have something to do with her- or more of them?'
Your mind is racing trying to piece together a narrative.
Confirmation that she was the thing that put you in such danger will surely be a death sentence- if she isn't already dead. Living with that on your consciousness is a horrid thought to even think of, so, you distance yourself away from creating an accusation, though you find yourself in trouble as you realise how you reacted to the mention of her.
Essentially, you've acted on impulse and no matter the response, you're unsure if it's going to suffice.
'I- I...' you begin, your throat burning as you bring your hand up to clasp it, 'I was on a ship,' you answer, 'I remember it in water- b- but then there was a storm,' you explain, your voice choppy and broken as you rub your hand up and down your throat finding that even your gills have disappeared. 'The siren,' you begin, clearing your throat, 'she tried to help me.'
'Help you?' mutters the one with a strange haircut. 'How'd she do that, lass?'
'I- I was stuck,' you say, 'I couldn't get out an' she tried to, uh, pull me out,' you explain, 'but she got hurt- it might not even be the same one but... there was one, a good one,' you explain, gulping hard as the masked man standing beside the man with his hand on your shoulder shifts on his feet, his eyes burning into your flesh, the sunken eyes behind the skill mask leaving goosebumps on your flesh.
He's harsher than last nights current.
Keeping your eyes trained on the man, you observe him as he peers down at you, his built frame making you feel small. Most definitely, you do not want to get on his bad side; he could probably crush you with one hand.
'Couldn't have been the same mermaid,' he answers, his tone causing your chest to almost rattle, 'took an entire night for you to even wash up here, you wouldn't have survived if it was her,' he notes, the others around you shaking their heads in a collective agreement.
Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears, you feel blood coursing through your veins as you look up at him with teary eyes.
Your bottom lip protrudes as water begins to pour from your eyes. It's unlike anything you've ever felt, and, despite your burning eyes, you find the sensation oddly relieving.
You throat grows tight as you sharply inhale, allowing the cup to rest against the covers as you press the tips of your fingers into your cheeks.
A hiccup escapes your lips as your mouth trembles, all the misery of being lost and having lost escaping you in a cathartic sob that causes your entire body to shake.
'I- I don't know where I am, I- I'm scared,' you confess as more water clings to your eyelashes in little droplets, clinging on, only for their grip to fall loose as you blink, releasing more fresh streams onto your flesh.
Releasing a hand off of your shoulder, the man stationed beside you looks to the man who has his hand on you knee, 'you think you can go and get her some clothes? Poor things on show for the entire village to see,' he says. The man purses his lips for a moment, 'she's gotta have something that she doesn't want.'
'Has so many fuckin' dresses she won't even notice one has gone missing,' he says, standing up from off of the bed, 'I'll go and try and find something, as long as I don't take her cyan one I don't think she'll be too bothered,' he shrugs, 'keep an eye on her for me, won't you?' he asks, looking at the three.
The man with the peculiar haircut places his hand against his shoulder, patting it, 'she's in the best hands of the entire village,' he reassures, 'go an' find the lass some clothes, Gaz, we'll kep 'er safe,' he promises.
Gaz. What an odd name.
The rest of their conversation is lost on you as you're far too caught up in the tightness in your chest and the sounds of the screams you heard on the beach the night before to even think about anything else.
Only, when the door shuts, you startle at the sound of the slam, snapping your head up.
'MacTavish, I need you on patrol today,' says the brown-haired man. The disappointment on his face is notable as his eyebrows curl, 'everyone's on edge with the entire mermaid incident, the last thing I need I people trying to cause more trouble or almost drownin' going to find one of their own,' he says, 'speaking 'f which, need to go and check on her myself, make sure the head wound isn't goin' green,' he huffs, turning to the masked man standing behind him. 'Keep an eye out on her,' he states, turning his attention back to you.
Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief, allowing yourself to bathe in your emotion as you come to terms with the fact that she's alive.
Your eyes meet with his, your heart burning at the sight of pity burning in his gaze.
If things were any different, you very well would have wiped the soft smile off of his face, but you look at your options and his uniform, likening it to one your mother had described to you in the past.
'They like to think they have control, dress up in clothes just to make the isolation of their species more capable,' she explained while sitting in upon one a rock. You accompanied her, looking at her. She had such knowledge of the world beyond the water that you were simply awestruck with every story she told you. 'Fabric makes people listen, they're scared of the people with the golden buttons and sharp metal swords.'
'If you need anything, ask him and he'll get it for you,' he asks, looking over his shoulder at the man.
His tone grows harsher upon the mention of him doing his duty, your eyes falling to the man.
'Won't you, Ghost?
The masked man grabs the chair he was sitting on when you first entered the room, moving it as the brown-haired man and MacTavish move in the direction of the door. The chair settles at the side of your bed, as the pair move towards the door.
'Affirmative,' he grunts, taking a seat beside you while the two leave the Station, leaving you alone with the masked man called Ghost.
You look at him briefly, swallowing hard.
It's difficult to sit in silence, your stammering breath a reminder of all you've lost.
Beady eyes look at the masked man as you attempt to choke up the courage to say something to him. Despite sitting, his frame is much bigger than anyone else's you have ever seen, and as he leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, you flinch.
'Where's the mermaid?' you ask.
You watch his eyes scan the area surrounding you.
The fabric of his black mask moves as he sucks in a breath, 'can't say,' he confesses, 'confidential; unsure if anyone is listening out to try an' find her. If word gets out where she is, she'd be dead by tonight- if not sooner,' he explains.
'Why do they want her dead? Has she done something to you?'
You want to scream.
The man beside you is short with his responses, speaking of her as though he understands the whole picture, when in reality, their confinement of her is a crime punishable by death.
'She said somethin' she should've have,' he answers simply.
His words drag against his throat as he speaks to you.
'Oh,' you muster, resting your back against the wall behind you.
'Where were you goin'?' he asks.
You raise an eyebrow in his direction, tilting your head as you attempt to process what exactly he means by his statement.
'You said you were on a boat and you were rescued by one of the sirens,' he reminds you, your face flushing with colour as you realise you have already forgotten the tale you were twisting.
'I was with my sister,' you say, 'the memory is quite fuzzy,' you confess, knowing your knowledge of the surrounding land is limited to a map of the sea, not what is beyond it. 'It was for one of her trips, she was travelling to see her husband and then the storm hit.'
'The sea isn't too fond of forgiveness,' he remarks.
'Neither is the land,' you say, falling back into the security of the covers over you, allowing your back to slip from off of the wall, lying down.
Pushing himself up, he looks down at you, mustering a small hug as you sleeping exhale.
All the emotion and crying has your eyes drooping, disregarding your conversation. The man doesn't judge you for that, however, as you watch him looking over you with gentle eyes behind the mask.
'Get some sleep,' he says.
You expect him to say more to that, yet, instead, he pulls his chair from beside you, moving to it back to the corner he was sitting in before.
You keep your eyes on his broad back, watching as he sits down, kicking his feet up on to the desk, keeping his eyes out of the window.
Your eyes stay there as you drift off to sleep.
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When the door eventually bursts open, he's quick to send his eyes in the direction of Gaz as he walks through it with a bundle of garments. His mouth is open as he goes to speak, only to quickly shut his mouth when he is eyes falls to you, sleeping in the cot.
Holding the handle of the door, he pushes it shut so the lock clicks as quietly as possible, even going as far as to wince while doing so.
'I managed to find some clothes for her,' he says, 'not sure if I'm going to be a single man when she gets home, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.'
Setting the clothes down on the desk, Ghost stands up, picking the green cotton frock up from off of the table holding it out.
'I've never seen her in it,' Kyle says, 'don't even think she remembers having the thing, so she can't be upset about it if she completely forgot it existed, right?'
'Affirmative,' Ghost responds, 'wouldn't be too sure about it, though. She has an eye for the strangest things,' he warns, to which he laughs.
'You're right with that,' he says, 'I saw the Captain while I was out, he was comin' back from checking on the siren, told me to ask you if you're alright taking the girl in until she can remember what day it is; we can't leave her alone.'
He feels his chest tighten as he looks to you, seeing you peaceful sleep as you turn under the covers, your bare arm over your covered torso. 'You're the only one without someone... not too sure howβ'
'I'll do it,' he says keeping his eyes trained on you.
Kyle looks at him with wide eyes.
'Well, she has no money does she? Not like an inn keeper is gonna give up a room for her, and I don't want to pay out of pocket to house her when she can just stay at my place.'
The man in front of him grins brightly.
'She'll hardly be any trouble, I'm sure of it,' he reassures, leaning against the desk, 'did she say anything else to you after I left?'
'She was with her sister on a ship heading somewhere to meet her sisters husband and that's then a storm hit and the ship was swallowed by the sea,' he says, 'she didn't say much, too out of it to really make much sense of the world around her.'
'Poor thing,' Gaz sighs, looking at Ghost, 'be nice to her, hey?'
'Wasn't planning on bein' cruel to her.'
'Good, good,' Kyle nods, 'Price told me to tell you that y' can have the rest of the day off if you get her out of the station, by the way. Take her home, get her something proper to eat and see if she wants to talk about it- he's sending something out to other villages to see if they have anyone who fits her description.'
'Doubt there'll be any news back for a while,' he says, approaching you, 'they don't care much for their own.'
His hand rests upon your shoulder and you grunt.
'I'll leave you to it,' Gaz calls from behind Ghost, 'gonna go and try and catch up with Johnny on patrols, doubt my lady would be too pleased with seein' another girl naked,' he chuckles, heading towards the door.
Waiting until the door is closed, Ghost proceeds to crouch down in front of you, rough hand nudging you again.
Your eyes crack open, a startled gasp escaping as you're greeted with the sight of his bone mask right in front of your face.
He feels you tense in his hands.
'Didn't mean to scare you,' he says, 'got you some clothes to keep people from starin' at you love, and then you're coming back to my place,' he explains.
His voice is softer than the tone he held with you prior and you swallow hard.
'Your place,' you croak, your face burning red from the sudden scare from your sleep.
'Yeah; until you're back on your feet and until that head of yours start workin' you're gonna have to stay here,' he explains, 'Price has sent messages out to local villages, see if any family members pick it up.'
Your face falters.
You're going to be here a while.
'Gaz got you some clothes,' he says, motioning over to the table.
Pushing yourself up, you manage to move your legs so your feet are planted against the floor. Ghost averts his eyes away from you, turning away. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you look at the ground at your feet.
Surely it's not that difficult.
Pushing your self up off of the bed, you take a short breath, your legs wobbling as you land back onto the bed.
Despite being gifted the ability of legs, you find it quite pointless that you cannot use them. The water is much easier to navigate than the land is, that much you're sure of.
Looking up at the man in front of you, you let out a small breath.
'Can you help me?' you ask.
He doesn't bother saying anything to you, simply walking over to the table with the dress on it, it's an ugly green colour and you catch yourself grimacing at the fabric. Though, as soon as his eyes are on you, the sneer on your face fades away.
He's rough in the way he pulls the dress over your head, though you manage to get your arms through the sleeves with ease. It's an odd feeling, feeling the fabric against your skin, the elastic cuffs of the sleeves clinging to your arms.
Helping you to your feet, you stagger forward, your face growing red as you grab his arms for some form of support. Yet, he doesn't move, he doesn't even flinch, busying himself with pulling the skirt down, it stopping mid-thigh.
Your legs tremble as you wince, you grip growing tighter on him as you fight to stay on your feet.
'Guess I haven't quite found my footing after the accident,' you awkwardly laugh, wishing to be relieved of this torture.
Your face is beat red as you continue to curse the moon for putting you in such a position, cursing the your words during that night.
Leading you back down onto the bed, you're quick to let go of his arms as he looks at you. He knows you're not going to be able to walk to his house, and he fights off the urge to huff.
There's something so simple yet so difficult about the task... he's a fucking lieutenant in the village guard and he's been put on babysitting duties.
Be nice to her, hey?
Kyle's voice is like a dagger through his skull, and even though you can't see his face under the mask, he musters up a tight-lipped smile, swallowing all his pride for himself and his position.
'I'll carry you.'
Neither of you are happy about this, though a tight-lipped smile of your own appears on your face.
'Great... thanks.'
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His home is humble, quaint, tucked away in a quiet pocket of town.
Pushing open the door, he tilts his head towards the entrance of the house. With uneasy feet, you wobble as you take a step up into his house, his hand grabbing your forearm when you nearly loose balance.
During the course of your travels, you had fought against him, insisting after catching people staring at you for him to put you down and let you walk freely.
At first, he doesn't listen, keeping his eyes trained on the path in front of him, though, fortunately, he relented after you started to squirm in his arms.
It was difficult at first, but you got the hang of it... as long as his arm was around your waist.
It finds its way back around your waist for a short moment as he helps you up the steps.
'Careful,' he utters.
'Thanks,' you respond, holding the sides of the doorframes as you walk into the living room.
It's a quaint and simple little space, although, your cove is much better than this place. Yet, you suppose you cannot be picky while undercover, his hospitality rendering you speechless.
The mystery of the red moon and her tide is still very much fresh and new, you know you must not do something to compromise your safety or your chances of finding Serelia.
Even if it is resulting in you finding shelter in a man with a skull masks home.
Pulling his hood from off of his head head, he shrugged his cloak from off of his shoulders, hanging it up on a wooden stand placed beside the door.
You stand and watch, your arms pressed to your side, still trying to understand how exactly humans manage to stand so straight on their legs.
He turns to look at you, you see his eyes shift under his mask, 'it's not much, and you're going to have to be okay with sleeping on the couch.'
'Much more than what I have right now,' you respond with a soft smile on your face.
'Thank you, Ghost,' you say
'Of course,' he says with a short nod, 'you can help yourself to whatever you want, all I ask from you is to keep out of my room.'
'I can do that,' you reassure, nodding your head.
He doubts you'll even be able to climb the stairs as he can only liken the way you're walking to that of a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time.
He can't complain however; it's entertaining to watch you, and he does so as you make your way over to your new bed, holding your arms out either side to balance yourself before toppling onto the couch with a large exhale.
Sometimes his limited compassion still manages to get him into terrible situations, and as he looks at you, he can't help but worry about what he has gotten himself in for.
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After spending some necessary time in his home, you eventually find your feet... both literally and figuratively.
It's difficult for you to stay confined to the four walls of his house, granted, you don't really do much and find joy during your first day there reading through an old shabby collection of books on his shelf.
There's nothing interesting, and you're unsure as to whether or not he himself has read any of them as when you open one, you sneeze from the amount of dust covering it.
It's a fun past time you find, especially during the few attempts of being more steady on your feet. The moon must have heard your complaints as, during the second day, you're nearly unstoppable, aside from the burning in your calves each time you take a step forward.
By the third day, you're almost sprinting out of the house into the village.
It's difficult to adjust to first.
The land is unknown to you, yet, you don't threat.
Instead, you search the village high and low, walking into every store, listening to every conversation of the locals in the village. You feel your skin crawl whenever you hear their laughter, though, it's as though talk of the siren has disappeared completely.
From spending time reading in the library to simply perusing the streets, you're wounded by the lack of information.
Why isn't anyone talking about her? Surely they know where she is; humans hate us and they'll want us gone for the issues we've caused.
The question follows you for a while, only stopping when you see the door open during your fifth night of staying inside Ghost's home.
He appears tired and as his hand moves to his cloak, he quickly stops himself from pulling it down when he sees you in front of him.
It's an odd thing, you've observed him over the past few days, and not once has he shown his face.
Still, you don't care for his habits as you open your mouth over dinner after swallowing a mouthful of food. Your hands is grabbing for the water next to your plate as you state, 'how come no one in town is mentioning the siren anymore?'
He looks at you, chewing under his mask which he holds up after each bite. 'Price has made it a rule,' he states, 'Lords out of town right now on business, until he comes back, we have to hold her per his request,' he explains, 'we've gotta keep her safe and if anyone is heard discussin' her, he's treating it as though it's treason.'
You offer a short nod, going back to eating your food.
'Why?' he eventually asks.
'I just thought, with something as big as this discovery, it would be the talk of the town for years,' you say, 'I thought it was strange, that's all.'
The look he gives you makes you think that he doesn't quite believe what you're saying to him, though, he doesn't press on the matter, going back to eating his dinner.
It's strange to spend time with a human, especially living with them.
He doesn't speak much, only really talking to you at dinner time or greeting you after returning from his shifts around the village to make sure everything is in check.
'You can take the mask off, you know,' you say, observing his discomfort, 'your identity doesn't make a difference to me, besides... this is your home,' you say softy.
Truthfully, the mask is just as much as an annoyance to him as it is to you.
Surprisingly, he listens to your words, pulling the mask tied around the back of his head off of his face allowing you to see his mouth.
Really, he does even know why he committed so long to wearing the stupid thing, growing especially frustrated as dinner grew to be more of a chore than something of enjoyment.
Old habits die hard, he supposes, and the habit of wearing around you died that night thanks to your comment.
While eating, he attempts to ignore your eyes on him, though he is far too aware that you're staring at him, not missing the way your cheeks have a light tinge of red to them.
Grinning to himself, he shakes his head at a crude thought that suddenly pops into his mind, narrowing his eyes as he lifts his head to look at you.
You drop your head immediately, focusing much more on your food than on him, though your embarrassment is difficult to miss.
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Simon seems warmer to you after you've been at his house for a little longer. The longer time passes by, the more trips you're taking to the ocean.
It started with one in the early morning, although, you find yourself walking there at the beginning of every day all to talk to the waves, hoping you'll see the familiar face of one of your sisters in the water. Yet, you don't.
Part of you is happy with this fact, not wanting them to see you in such a state wearing the ugly green frock, the only thing you own aside from a pair of sandals which Ghost brought with him upon returning from a shift.
On occasion, you bump into one of the men you saw when you first stop at the station. You learn that MacTavish's name is actually Johnny, and Gaz, the man who found you on the beach, is named Kyle.
They stop to talk to you for a while, sometimes walking with you to the beach where they speak with you.
Nothing interesting really comes from the conversations until, a month into your stay in the village, Johnny blabbers a little too much.
'He enjoys your company, bonnie,' he confesses after complimenting your new pink dress Simon bought you, 'was telling me that he's enjoying giving you little gifts and having you with him for dinner. I'm tellin' you, he like you more than you think.'
'How can he like me when I don't do anything but steal his food and sleep on his couch?'
'Couldn't tell ya, lass, strange man is our Simon.'
You hold your breath.
'Simon?' you ask slowly, a smile creeping on your face.
He slaps a hand over his mouth, his face growing red.
'His names Simon?' you ask, craning your neck forward to look at the blushing mans face.
'Forget I said anything,' he demands, rubbing his face with his hand. 'Please,' he almost begs. 'What I mean to say, lass, is that he does like you, and if you haven't thought of doing something for him, maybe consider it.'
His words follow you into the nighttime as you're helping Simon cook.
It's been something you've been doing for a while, intrigue taking you down the strangest path.
'My mum used to make this soup,' he explains, 'the recipe for it is somewhere, I don't know where it's gone though. It was great for nights like there.'
You hear a bell chime in your ears, thinking back to Johnny's words. Simon doesn't miss the smile on your face.
'What? What did I say?'
'Nothing, Sim-'
You freeze.
The pair of you stare at each other.
'Ghost, I mean Ghost!' you exclaim, holding your hands up, realising that you have most definitely gotten poor Johnny in a hell of a lot of trouble.
'Johnny told you didn't he?'
'He slipped up while he was talking to me today, he didn't mean it and I'm sorry if-'
'Say my name,' he cuts you off quickly and your eyebrows furrow.
'Simon?'
He grins to himself, turning his head away acting as though you have just done him the greatest act of service. 'I like how it sounds when you say it,' he says, going back to chopping up the vegetables, 'much better than Ghost.'
Redness spreads to your cheeks as you admire the look of joy on his face, finding that you want to do that more in order to see that look on his face.
So, as you're eating dinner that night, and even when you're lying on the sofa, you scheme like a criminal.
You toss and turn before you eventually get up and begin your search. Holding a lit candle, your eyes scan through his shelves looking high and low.
You spend what must be hours flicking through books, moving things, looking under the sofa, attempting to squint your eyes to look through floorboard before you find it tucked between the countertop and stove in the kitchen.
Only then can you rest easy, your eyes closing as you think about the mission you have got to complete tomorrow.
οΌ*β’Μ©Μ©Νβ©β’Μ©Μ©Ν*Λ βΎ Λ*β’Μ©Μ©Νβ©β’Μ©Μ©Ν*ΛοΌ
Walking through the bustling village main street, you listen to the bright tunes of the surrounding marketplaces, small stalls on either corner of the street, pushing everyone on the main road closer together.
You brush shoulders with a few people, keeping your arms out in front of you as you walk with a basket in front of you, the gold coins Simon has given you per your request rattling in your other hand.
It's rare you're outside as you spend most of your times in the library or back at Simon's home. Though nothing is going to stop you from making Simon the soup he mentioned last night.
Your heart flutters at the thought of how much he has done for you, and as a form of a thank you, you're going through the crumpled up recipe you stole from out of his kitchen, going to different stalls to get the things you need for the recipe.
The trip renders you exhausted, and by the time you're back at his house, you're fighting against sleep as you chop up the vegetable, putting them into the pot. You're unsure if you're doing it right, although, the longer you leave it to simmer, the more it takes the shape of something edible... you suppose.
You keep it on the stove until you hear the door open, and whether or not it tastes good, you're fine enough with the delightful smell that is exuding from the pot on the stove, looking in the direction of the door as it opens and Simon steps into the room.
'You're back,' you cheer, dropping the wooden spoon in the pot, approaching him.
The door shuts and he pulls his takes his hat from off of his head, pulling off his mask.
A crooked smile greets your eyes.
'What's all this?' he asks, his arms resting on your shoulders. It's common now, him touching you, and you sink into his hold on you with a sigh.
'Well, I thought you'd appreciate me making dinner for you,' you say sweetly, grabbing his hands, pulling him through into the kitchen, motioning to the table set. 'Also, you mentioned the old recipe your mum used to make for you, so, I thought I'd try my hand at it, see if I'm a good cook or not.'
He lets out a small βhm' as he grabs two bowls from out of the cupboards, placing them down on the countertop beside the stove. His hand hand is touching the small of your back as he grabs hold of the wooden spoon you left in the pot, tugging down the black mask covering his nose and mouth.
You watch, holding your breath as you await his reaction.
'Is it terrible?' you quietly as, looking on his face for any form of reaction, yet, he's unmoved. 'We can get something else to eat if it's really terrible,' you offer, pushing down the cuticles on your nails as you keep your eyes on him.
Setting the spoon back into the pot, he exhales. 'Needs a tad bit more salt, sweetheart,' he gently says, 'but considering this is your first time making it, I think you've done a pretty good job, hey?'
You can't stop yourself from smiling at his gentle words, feeling the warmth of his large hand pressing against your back as he reaches beside the stove, grabbing a salt shaker. 'A little more practice and I think I'm going to have my own personal chef,' he comments, adding some more salt into the soup.
Grabbing the spoon, you stir the mixture, scooping up another spoonful, holding it out to him with your hand underneath it, 'how's it now?'
His eyes are on you as he places his mouth against the spoon.
'Much better,' he says with a smile, 'go sit down, I'll do this.'
'Are you sure?' you ask, feeling him move his hand from off of your back. He gives you a short nod.
'Don't want you to burn yourself, go sit down.'
Over dinner, you share brief words, but it is in the silence and the company of him that you find you're most at peace.
There's nothing from either of you, and you take time to eat the soup you have been working on all day. It's okay, a little on the watery side, and you do think that Simon is still definitely a much better cook that you.
He thinks the soup tastes a tad funny, but he doesn't say it to you.
Such thoughts leave the pair of you to sit together, silently thinking about each other, yet not having the heart to disrupt the peaceful silence.
After dinner, you attempt to help him clean up, only, he refuses your help, requesting you stay in the living room.
'Simon you always do stuff for me,' you whine with a huff, 'let me help you- washing a dish isn't gonna kill me, y'know?
'I have a surprise for you and you're not going to get it if you keep going against what I've asked of you,' he warns, 'be a good girl for me, yeah? Go sit down, I'll be right through and you can have your gift.'
Suddenly, it's like your legs don't work anymore.
Knees almost buckling at his words, you gulp hard, managing out a short breath as you nod your head, not saying another word to him as you approach the living room, taking a seat on the plush sofa, sinking into one of the many black cushions.
Pressing your face into your cupped hands, you fight off the urge to scream at the very fact he only has to speak to you and you melt like butter in a pan.
Death would be easier than this.
Eventually, he reappears holding a box in his hands. Setting it down on your lap, you smile at the sight of a white ribbon tied into a bow. It's a charming sight, and you fight off the urge to rest your head on his shoulder as he sits next to you.
'You didn't have to,' you whisper.
'Well, you don't have many dresses, sweetheart,' he comments, 'my mum would have my head if she found out you only had two dresses,' he said with a short chuckle, his eyes narrowing as he sighs, 'I saw it the other day, been trying think of a good time to give it to you.'
Carefully, you untie the ribbon, pulling the top of the box off, setting it aside.
Peering up at you is a white cotton frock. Small flowers stitched into the open neck of the dress.
Pulling it out, you hold it out in front of you, letting out a squeal as you see the fabric touching all the way to the ground.
You jump into his lap, pressing a firm kiss onto his cheek.
'I love it!' you exclaim, holding the dress to your chest, before quickly pushing yourself off of him, shrugging off the sleeves of the green frock you've had since arriving in the village. 'I don't even wanna wait to try it,' you say brightly.
He watches amused as the fabric falls from off of your body, pooling around your feet. You're unapologetic of your appearance, tits on full show without a single care in the world.
Pulling the white dress over your head, you wiggle your hips as it hugs your waist, covering your legs.
He watches you, his hands on his thighs as you clumsily spin around in a circle, your skirt raising as you do so. 'What do you think?' you ask, 'does it look nice?'
He exhales deeply.
'Was made for you, sweetheart,' he replies with a bright grin on his face, 'gimme another spin.'
Your cheeks flush red, though you comply, your heart swelling at the request.
οΌ*β’Μ©Μ©Νβ©β’Μ©Μ©Ν*Λ βΎ Λ*β’Μ©Μ©Νβ©β’Μ©Μ©Ν*ΛοΌ
In the midst of the night is where you roam free, walking through the streets of the village, treading down to the shore all to sit by the water. You watch as the waves roll in with a joyous glint in your eye, knowing home is right at your fingertips.
But oddly, you find home is also on land in the form of your sister and the tall man with a strange mask.
The very thought of him makes you feel nauseous, the thought of him washing all your sentence just as the waves do the shore.
Dinner tonight was almost too much for you to handle, to have someone so close to you, to feel his hand on your back and to hear the humans terms of affection leave his mouth with the intent of the meeting your ears... everything.
You blame the dress you're wearing too.
You feel like you're betraying the words of your dear mother.
She has warned you time and time again of the dangers of the human folk, and here you are, wearing their legs, missing your tail and your vibrant scales, yet, prepared to throw it all away all to hear him utter your name and call you sweetheart just one more time.
All that for a human who doesn't even know the truth of who you are.
'I thought you were here,' you hear a voice call from behind you, almost submerged in the crashing waves.
Turning your head, you see Simon approaching you, his boots leaving prints in the sand.
Stopping beside you, you turn your head as he sits beside you. 'Why 'ave you come all the way out here at this time?'
'Needed some fresh air,' you mumble, resting your chin against your knees, hugging your legs.
'You'll find her again,' he says.
Your blood runs cold.
'Sure that siren saved her just as she saved you, yeah? You'll be with her again some day soon, and who knows, maybe she's become one of them herself.'
'She'd like that,' you whisper, looking at the tide.
I'd like that too.
'Until you know where she is or receive a letter from home, you're stuck with me,' he says, 'sorry.'
You laugh.
'You've been the thing to keep me sane through all this, Si',' you reassure, 'without you I would've lost my mind. I need you, and what you've done for me means more than anything any else has ever done for me.'
'Thank you,' he speaks with his chest, you can hear the smile on his face as he speaks. 'I've enjoyed the company, it's nice to have someone to come home to, makes a change from the constant silence, gets me down sometimes.'
You will die before he is ever alone again, you're convinced.
Letting go of your legs, you pull away from the shore, moving towards him.
The light of the moon bouncing off of the water illuminates his features deliciously and you can't help but think of how he would look beneath the water where the pair of you could live out your days together.
Placing his hand on your knee, you rest your head against his firm shoulder, letting out a small breath as you look out onto the sea.
'Do you want to go back home to your village?' he asks.
'I don't have attachments to places, only people,' you respond, 'doesn't matter where I am as long as I have the people I care about with me- and if they wish to go somewhere else, then I'll will let them to do so.'
'So, when your sister finds you, you're gonna go back home?' he quietly asks, looking at the calm water.
'I don't know,' you say, 'so used to having you with me, and she's found her love now, she doesn't need me anymore. If she even is still alive that is.'
Leaning into the narrative is bruising, and in his silence you sit and think about whether or not you would return to the sea once you finally know that Serelia is safe.
These are the people who have hurt her, the man beside you is keeping her from you, yet, there you are in his arms, seeking comfort in the idea of living out the rest of your life at his side.
Really, you should want to put the entirety of the village under water.
'I want you to stay,' he quietly confesses, 'too used to y' now,' don't think I could go back to normal if you left.'
The feeling of nausea hits you again.
'I wouldn't know what to do with myself,' you say, feeling his grip on your knee tighten.
He holds his breath and you turn to look at him. Half lidded eyes stare back at you, and you find your hand reaching out to slip beneath the mask of the skull on his face, hooking your fingers beneath the fabric of the mask.
'Can I?'
He looks at you, though says nothing.
As you pull your hand away from his face, he pulls the hood down off of his head, undoing the tie around the skull mask on his face, allowing it to fall onto his lap.
Pulling the mask down, allowing it to pool around his neck, he looks you in the eyes. You stare back, settling your hand against his cheek. As you listen to the calmness of the water and under the watching eyes of the moon, you have little issue in leaning in closer.
His hand finds the back of your head as your lips ghost each others and you can feel hit hot breath fanning against your mouth.
'Am I gonna regret this?' you asks.
'You might,' he replies, 'but I won't judge you for it if y' do.'
Your breaths mingle as your lips finally meet, a soft and hesitant connection which sends shivers down your spine. Its delicate, the feeling of his mouth against yours as he holds you as though you're seconds away from turning to ash, leaving him forever.
And while your lips were against his, the thought of doing such doesn't cross your mind.
Not even once.
Upon returning to his house, you walk past the couch you have been lying on, his hand on the small of your back pulling you past, guiding you up the stairs to his bedroom.
Nothing like what you have read happens, instead, he helps you out of your dress, leaving you in your panties. You ask for nothing from him as you climb into his bed as he undresses.
It's intimate, the feeling of his hot flesh against yours setting a light afire in your stomach as you curl into his side, just as you curled into your cove hidden within the depths of the sea.
οΌ*β’Μ©Μ©Νβ©β’Μ©Μ©Ν*Λ βΎ Λ*β’Μ©Μ©Νβ©β’Μ©Μ©Ν*ΛοΌ
Days progress and your search for Serelia quells as you keep an open ear on the talks of the city folk.
You could have ended all of this a lot sooner with a song, louring all of them into the water to give you an ample opportunity, but you haven't.
Some other time you would have, though, you've heard your voice while humming a song as you clean your flesh in the mornings, and it's devoid of the deepness to travel as far as it did while sitting upon the rocks on the sea.
She is still alive and well wherever she is, and you're quite sure she has been moved around quite a bit as a safety precaution, and with Price's willingness to keep her from the wrath of the village folk, you know that at least some of the men in the village are good.
The more days roll on, the softer the touches from Simon grow, and as you're sitting in the village library again, holding a book in your lap, your fingers trace over the words written, leaving your words caught in your throat.
Reading has been the one thing to keep you from the curse of whatever has happened to you, and you find the stories written by humans to be quite amusing.
Perilous speculation at it's finest! Your favourite.
Though, you find it's difficult to breathe as you progress further and further through the books in the library until you were greeted with one covered in dust.
The lady didn't see you pull it off of the shelf when you did, and as the sky grows orange before eventually fading to darkness, you're unaware of the change in workers as you press your thighs together, hot breath fanning against the pages of the book.
Only, it's not the story that has you blushing.
Rather, your own thoughts as you replace the characters in your head, seeing the same set of eyes that have been greeting you for the past week while waking up.
It's wrong and it's dirty, but you can't help but think of him.
Perhaps this is simply how humans show affection, and it's not like you haven't been close to doing it; your bare breasts have been pushed against his chest when the pair of you wake in the dawn, and neither of you have moved an inch during the closeness, relishing in the closeness.
'I've got work, love.'
'I don't care, too comfy for you to leave me.'
Your mouth grows dry as you contemplate whether or not he has thought of you in a similar manner, if the thoughts carry onwards to his mind from your own, or if he sees you in a different manner.
A voice calls out your name, the flame of the candle on the table beside you causing you to jump, and as you look up, you're quick to slam the book shut, clearing your throat as you tightly smile at the man standing in front of you.
'Scared me,' he says to you, 'I thought you were home.'
'I got bored,' you shakily say, gripping the book in your hand tightly, holding it as you push your chair in, 'I got caught up reading.'
Even though you try to keep the book out of his view, you find he doesn't care about the stupid collection of pages, his eyes dragging down your body as though they're scanning for any source of possible harm.
'I'm fine, Si',' you whisper.
He nods shortly, 'c'mon, it's late and you need to eat,' he says, stepping to the side, allowing you past.
Keeping hold of the book, you walk along side the man and out of the library.
'You didn't have to drag me out, y'know?' you ask, walking alongside him.
His eyes fall on you, you know it without even looking at him, your eyes scanning over the words in the book, 'could've left me in the library to live with the books, let the pots of colours ink stain my skin and cover me up. Wouldn't have bothered you every again.'
The book is ripped from your hands, slamming shut as the man standing beside you takes it off of you.
'Strange woman,' he remarks, keeping the book in his right hand as you proceed to walk through the town.
Your frustration is obvious but he clearly doesn't care, you see the way his face settles beneath the mask.
'Strange man,' you remark, 'walking around the village with a skull mask on, especially in the dark.'
He only grunts in response to your words, pulling your book in front of him, looking at the title with a raised brow. 'Saccharine?'
He looks at you with a look telling that he knows what's beyond the pages, the possibility of such making your cheeks flare red as he flicks through the pages.
'What's it about?'
'Uhm,' you look at him with weary eyes, 'it's an... adventure.'
He nods his head.
'An adventure,' he says, eyes scrolling down the page he lands on, reading aloud, ''use that pretty mouth of yours for me, sweetheart, tell me what y' want,' he grunts, watching her squirm below him.''
Your face is bright red.
'Something fuckin' adventure that is, huh?' he barks out a laugh, as you elbow him in the side, snatching the book out of his hands. 'You dirty thing reading that out in public,' he mocks, your throat growing dry as you look at him.
'Shut up,' you grumble, slamming the book shut.
His laughter doesn't cease as you head towards his home, 'maybe I should have left you in the library by yourself.'
You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, longing for the cold ocean to reach right into the village and pluck you right from his side, placing you right back into the ocean.
Grabbing his key from out of his pocket, he heads up the steps to his house. You don't miss the glance he gives you.
'Who says I can't sort it out here?' you ask.
The keys fall from out of his hand.
Reaching down, you snag them before he can even muster the strength to breathe after the comment you've just made.
'You'd have an audience,' he says, grabbing your waist as you put his key into the door, turning it.
'I don't care,' you whisper, placing your hand against his cheek, 'especially if it's you.'
You don't quite process what happens until his lips are pressed against yours, the pair of you clumsily stumbling into his house, a giggle escaping you as he keeps you pressed against him.
The next couple of minutes are lost to clumsy steps, giggles and kisses as the pair of you waste no time rushing towards his bedroom.
Somewhere along the line, your dress is discarded, as is his shirt, all for it to be put on you as you sit in his lap clumsily doing up the buttons as the cuffs fall past your hands.
It's an alien feeling, the feeling on someone's lips against yours despite all the chaste kisses you have shared during sleepy mornings, and as he grabs you with greedy hands, you feel yourself melting into his hold, pressing your chest against his as you stifle out a short sound in delight.
You're unsure what exactly the sound was as it's muffled by your lips pressing against one another's, your hands clutching at his shoulders as his hand holds the small of your waist.
You feel the little muscle in your chest flutter as he tilts your head slightly with his other hand, deepening the kiss.
Keeping your eyes close, you feel as though you are one with the tide of the ocean, your limbs become that of liquid, flowing with whatever he wills as you fall apart in his arms.
Your firm grasp against his shoulders melts away as you loosely wrap your arms around his neck, your chest growing tighter as it grows harder to find gasps to take a breath from the kiss.
Placing another kiss against your plush lips, he pulls away, placing his hand against your cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, letting out a gentle sigh as he looks at you.
Such gentleness is unheard of, no man should be so kind, yet, here he is, holding you as though you're the most fragile seashell on the seashore, intending to hold you close to keep you as a memory.
There's an odd heat flooding your stomach when he pulls away, a pulsing in the area you're somewhat familiar with. It's a dull ache, a bruising urge and you began to squirm in his lap in an attempt to chase the feeling away.
The feeling of his pants against you brings a satisfying wave over your body, willing to continue squirming in his lap in the hopes to find some form of quick fix. A breathy whimper escapes you as you continue to grind hopelessly in his lap, chasing after the release you so crave.
Only, your his are grabbed by his hands, as he holds you in place, grunting.
'Hurts,' you grumble, your hands falling to grab his wrists in an attempt to pull them away. Yet, his hold on you persists, keeping you firmly in place.
'Please,' it escapes your lips before you even understand what it is that you're begging for, though there's something that you can only describe as longing to extinguish the fiery blaze in the pit of your stomach.
You continue to fight against his hold on your hips, you lips pressing together in an unhappy manner.
There's a glint you spy as desire in his eyes, though, much to your displeasure, he keeps himself from acting on whatever that particular desire is, leaving you teary eyed in his lap.
'Sweetheart,' Simon breathes, shaking his head, 'hey, hey, it's alright, what are you getting teary eyed f'r? Haven't hurt you, have I?' he asks as your try to blink back the tears forming in your eyes. You're frustrated, unable to tell him what exactly you want because, truthfully, you've only read about such in the books in the library during the times he was busy with work.
All of it is new, and you wish for the blessing of experience you wash over you as you look at him with a lingering frustration.
'No,' you say, 'it's not that, it's that I...' you're unsure what to say, so, you let go of his wrist, lifting your hips as you look him in the eyes, placing a hand against your core.
He looks at you with a crooked smile when he finally catches onto what exactly it is, and all you can muster, in pathetic whisper is, 'need you.'
Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you're relieved when one of his hands is pulled from off of your hip as he gently moves his hand against you, cupping your cunt, pressing his thumb up in a particular spot.
You let out a whimper at the strange, yet welcome sensation, noting how his hand is far better than your own.
There should be something shameful about this, only you push into his hold, hoping he returns your enthusiasm.
It's in his arms you feel the most safe you have ever felt, even the tide of the ocean cannot compare to him in this moment as he pulls you loser, looking upon you with moons for eyes, conveying the idea that, maybe, he does think you're the prettiest thing he has ever set his eyes on.
Your back is pressed against the bed, the absence of his touch like a dagger through your heart. He looms over you, arms either side of your head. The lack of light, the flickering flame of the candle and the beams of light from moon shooting through the window render you speechless as you look at him.
'My pretty girl,' he utters underneath his breath, his hand brushing under the cotton shirt, moving further up your skin. Goosebumps form on your flesh as he does so, cheeks red the longer he keeps his eyes on you. 'Made with wind an' sea, you are,' he says, brushing his hand down your stomach, resting it against your pubic bone as he looks you. 'Tell me what you want, sweetheart.'
Opening your legs for him, you muster up a small whimper, looking him in the eyes, 'want you to touch me,' you quietly say, 'please, Si', need you to make me feel better,' you beg, feeling as though you're seconds away from collapsing.
A breath escapes you as he pushes your panties to the side, trailing his fingers up and down your folds with a groan.
There's a distinctive wet noise as he does so, spreading your cunt open with two fingers. Looking down between the valley between your breasts, you swallow hard at the sight of him touching you, jolting when his fingers brush against your clit.
It's unlike anything you've ever experienced.
Continuing in a fluid motion, your back arches as pretty moans escape your mouth, writhing beneath him. The heat in your stomach only grows as he does so.
'That's it, sweetheart,' he utters, sliding his fingers downwards, pressing one digit against your hole. 'Gonna be good for me an' take my fingers?' he asks, to which you eagerly nod your head.
'Y- Yes, please,' you respond, your back arching against the bed as he pushes a finger into you.
An odd stinging sensation causes a tear to slip past your eye as you fist the sheets below you, letting out a small sob. He pauses, you catch the orange light from the candle in his eyes as his mouth falls.
Then, you begin to feel him pull away.
'No,' you quickly exclaim, 'no, no, don't pull away, it's just...' you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, 'I've never done this before.'
He looks at you with wild eyes as he expression softens. Leaning forward, he places his lips against your and you cup his face with both of your hands, your mouth falling open as he begins to thrust his finger in and out of you.
Pressing his forehead against yours, he sighs, 'I didn't know, love,' he confesses under his breath, 'I shouldn't have made assumptionsβ'
'It's not your fault, Si', you didn't know,' you reassures, 'but I don't want you to stop,' you say, toes curling as his finger presses against a spot which almost has you seeing colour.
The air in the room is hot, only growing when you see a crooked smirk on his face as a crude squelch sounds.
You feel another finger against you.
'Gonna make sure your pretty cunt is taken care of,' he says, 'won't want anyone else after you've had me,' he utters, pushing another finger into you.
It burns for a moment, the stretch aching, yet working to contribute to the cord tightening in your stomach.
You're unsure as to what to expect as a delicious heat envelopes yous body, clumsy hands letting go of his face, moving to his shoulders. More tears slip down your cheeks, a loud moan escaping you as both his finger brush against a spot which has you falling apart in his hold.
You expect him to relent, though, he positions his fingers to proceed to hit that spot. By now you're a babbling mess under him, all the while he's grinning at the pretty mess you're becoming, soaking his fingers as you edge closer and closer to the edge.
You're not going to last much longer, he knows such as you clench around his fingers, his cock hardening at the very thought of having that pretty pussy around him.
There's a panic in your eyes as you edge closer to the edge, so he presses a chaste kiss against your lips, 'you're okay, princess,' you gently says, let go, cum for me, cum around my fingers, let me see how pretty you look,' he says, cautious not to make a demand as he continues to work his fingers into you, stretching you out.
Your chest heaves as you screw your eyes shut, your muscles tensing as you find yourself bracing for the coil in your stomach to snap.
It's odd to be scared of something that is making you feel so good, and you relax realising you're in his arms.
Your thighs begin to tremble as you let out small moans, drool trailing down your chin as you press your head back into his pillow, the heat in your stomach dispersing, crashing down into a pleasurable wave which has you almost sobbing.
Your hole clenches around Simon's finger, your entire body turning stiff as you stifle out a crude gasp, your orgasm washing over you. You watches as you completely fall apart, your juices flooding his fingers as you cum. 'That's it, you're okay,' he breathes, 'I got you, you're okay,' he reassures, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm.
Your raging breath steadily quells as he pulls his fingers out of you, sitting back on his thighs. Your hair is sticking your back as sweat soaks into the shirt you're working.
Whimpering, you watch as he presses the two digits he used to fuck you between his mouth, cleaning the mess you made of his hands with his tongue, letting out a short moan as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth, 'as sweet as honey,' he remarks, taking a moment to admire your glistening cunt.
Instinctively, you close your legs, all for him to tut, placing his hands on your knees, pulling them open again.
'Prettiest cunt I've ever seen sweetheart,' he say, 'don't try and keep it from me, yeah? You're not gonna be cumming around anyone else's cock aside from mine; gonna ruing you, shape that pretty hole for my cock and my cock only,' he gruffly speaks.
You hear the shift of fabric.
Pulling his underwear off, he tosses it somewhere into the room, sifting upwards, a crude wet slap filling the room as he slaps his cock against your clit.
You let out a small yelp as the sensation, your cunt still marked with sensitivity from your orgasm. Though, as you feel the blunt head of his leaking cock between your folds, you find the heat returns with a vengeance, leaving your mouth dry as he presses himself against your hole.
'It's gonna hurt for a second,' he warns, grabbing your hip with his hand, 'just keep breathing for me, let that pretty pussy stretch around me- I'll give y' all the time you need, just tell me,' he utters.
His tone is much darker than any you've ever heard, and as he begins to push himself into you, your mouth closes as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip so hard that you're quite sure you're going to draw blood.
A filthy moan escapes your lovers lips as he pushes into, the heat around his cock making it hard to keep a clear mind as the longing to fuck you until you're sobbing possesses him.
It won't take much, he knows that, counting on the fact that he's not even half way in and tears are already pouring down your cheeks.
Gripping your hips, he eases himself in to the hilt, moaning as you clench around his cock.
'Good fuckin' girl,' he curses, his nails digging into your skin as you wince. Never have you felt so full, feeling his cock pulsing in your core as you squirm beneath him.
Without even moving, you're sure he's pressing against that spot that brought you to your release just moments prior, you stomach twisting.
I'm not going to last.
Your legs merely wrap around his waist as he looks to you, and with a trembling mouth, you nod your head, 'y- you can move,' you say with a small nod, hissing as he pulls out, only to thrust back in.
Your skin is hot as sweat drips down your silky flesh, pushing downwards to meet his thrusts as he picks up the pace. The sound of you skin slapping together is vulgar, though neither of you care as you burble out weak 'ahs' under your breath as he drives his cock into you. Simon isn't quiet either, vocal grunts through gritted teeth as his bruising grip on you maintains a steady pace.
'Fuuuckkk,' he moans, grabbing the bottom of his shirt, ripping it open. You offer him as startled look as he drags his blunt nails up your stomach, grabbing your tits, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 'Prettiest fuckin' girl to ever walk the land,' he claims, 'made for me and my cock, and it's all mine, isn't it?'
'A- All yours,' you confirm, unable to keep a sane mind about you as he's fucking you dumb.
All your mind is sticking to is the thickness off his cock as it's hitting all the right spots. You're sure you're drooling from the sensation, your eyes falling back into your head as you babble out nonsense.
'No one else's,' you manage to get out before you're completely at his disposal, the feel of your next orgasm creeping up on you.
'You gonna cum for me again, princess?' Simon asks, greedily sucking in air as he looks at you, feeling your cunt clenching around him. He himself is edging closer to the edge, the tightness of you around his thick cock simply being too much to bear.
'Yes, 'm so close... so fucking close, please, please let me cum,' you dumbly beg, not able to keep the words from flowing past your lips.
'Go on, sweetheart, cum around my cock, make it yours,' he demands, his thrust growing much more sporadic as he chases after his own release.
A moan escapes your lips as you arch you back off of the bed, your entire body spasming as you allow yourself to fall into the pleasure of your orgasm as the cord in your stomach snaps, forcing a gasp out of you.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a brittle sob, tightening around his cock as you cum. The sound of your skin connecting is wet as Simon fucks you through your orgasm, his curses and grunts filling your ears.
'Fuck, fuck, fuck, that's right sweetheart,' he moans, 'gonna make you mine, fill you up with my cum, no one else is having you, you're mine,' he grunts out, pressing into your, your cunt against his pubic bone as his hands tremble.
He lets out a moan as he fills you up.
It's a filthy feeling, but you love it terribly, your hole twitching as you feel his pulsing cock empty his load inside of you.
A short breath escapes him, and you moan feeling him push deeper inside of you, thrusting and out of you to ensure you're not missing a drop of it.
Remaining inside of you, he moves to lay beside you, keeping bodies pressed against you, the smell of sex and sweat in the clammy air of the room, but he doesn't even think of pulling out, let alone pulling away. Instead he settles with his cock inside out you, pressing another kiss against you.
Your eyes feel heavy, your entire body sluggish as you press your face into the crook of his neck.
'Good girl,' he utters against your skin.
You lay together for a short while before he eventually pulls his softening cock from out of you, you whimpering from oversensitivity as he does so. Your inner thighs are wet, and as your hole clenches around nothing, you're face grows red as you feel his cum dripping out of you.
He leaves you alone for a short while and you lay, your body blanketed in the moonlight. Beyond the window in his room, you spy the ocean in the distances, seeing the rolling waves, your throat tightening are your eyes move around the room, spying his side of the bed, then lifting back to the water.
You can't possibly stay here forever? Can you?
You have people, you have your sister still to find, getting no closer to having Simon confess to you where she is being kept.
When you uncover it eventually, what are you going to do? Free her and stay here? Will the even want you back when you return with the marks of a human all over you?
Your eyes water when he comes back into the room with a cup of water and a damp cloth in his hands, approaching you.
He sees the furrow of your brow and the discontent on your face, taking a seat beside you, pressing his hand against your face.
'I haven't hurt you haveβ'
'No, no,' you quietly state, sniffling, 'just...' you look at him, holding his wrist. 'I like you,' you whisper, his eyes growing wide at your confession, 'I- I know it's soon butβ'
'I like you too, sweetheart,' he reassures, setting the cup of water down on the nightstand.
You rejoice in the outcome of your diversion, noting it works well as he looks at you with all the adoration the human heart can muster. 'Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Can't leave you like this,' he utters, to which you nod in appreciation.
The night is sleepless for the most part as you're in his arms. It's difficult to confess to yourself, but you're aware of the lies you have told and of the possible consequences to come from it.
Even if he isn't fearful of what you are, there's still the fact that the betrayal will be too great as, essentially, everything you have together is built on a lie, and you're only encouraging it through playing the role of human.
A part of you wishes to wake him from his current sleeping state and tell him, yet, you cower in the thought of conflict destroying the night the pair of you have shared.
So, you tell yourself that you'll tell him tomorrow instead before falling into the heat of his body, closing your eyes.
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In the morning you wake with a dull ache between your thighs, looking to the side of your bed.
Simon isn't there and you sit up quickly, eyes scanning around the room, a panicked breath squeezing out of your lung as you search for him.
Has he left for work already?
You feel an odd sense of betrayal well in your breast as you shuffle from under the sheets, stopping in your tracks when you hear the creak of the staircase leading into his room. His head appears first and you quickly fall back onto the bed, eying him.
'I thought you left for work,' you confess as he climbs the final step. He shakes his head, looking out of the window to the early morning sun. It covers his frame in a delicious light and you take a moment to admire him. How his white shirt settles against his chest, the mask on his face right back where it usually it.
It's a shame though; you want to see his blond hair in the light of the sun.
'I'm not that cruel, sweetheart,' he reassures, 'want you to come with me today; I'm sitting in the Station by myself while the other three do whatever, want some company with me,' he says, we'll stop by the library and bakery before we go there, I'll get you that pastry you like,' he offers, fixing the buckle of his belt, 'what do you think?'
Propping your head up with your hand, you look as hm with rosy cheeks and a bright grin on your face. 'Make me a cup of tea when we're in the station too?' you ask.
'If I must,' he says, laughing, moving towards one of the drawers in his bedroom, pulling it open.
Grabbing a dress and panties, walking up to you. Shifting in the bed, you push the sheets back, standing up, taking the panties from his hands.
Stepping into them, you look up to see him holding your dress, the skirt bunched up. 'Hold your arms up,' he instructs, to which you giggle at, but comply, holding your arms up.
Placing the fabric of the dress over your head, you slip your arms inside of the sleeves, as he kneels down in front of you, pushing his mask up slightly so he can press kisses onto your stomach as he lowers the skirt of the dress further and further down.
More laughter spills past you as you watch him with do so. The skirt reaches your ankles and he stands up, grasping your waist. 'Happy I got this dress for you,' he comments.
You quirk an eyebrow.
'I thought you said it was plain.'
'Nothing's plain when you're wearing it, sweetheart,' he responds, pressing a kiss onto your lips. You roll your eyes at his sappiness despite melting into his hold.
'You're an idiot,' you say.
'And you're slow,' he retorts, letting go of your waist, 'finish up getting ready and meet me downstairs, don't take too long; don't wanna be stuck in a queue at the bakery.'
'You're the reasonβ'
'Don't wanna hear it, princess,' he calls as he walks down the the stairs, leaving you alone in his bedroom, crossing your arms over yourself as you watch him disappear.
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He cannot take his eyes off of you as you sit in the station, stray crumbs of the pastry around your mouth as you babble on about one of the books you found in the library.
It never occurred to him until now that it's very much possible to be a love drunk fool, and he feels himself grinning under his mask as you speak with such passion, it's making him lightheaded. He has little understanding of what you're talking about, but that doesn't matter.
He sits and listens to you, only stopping you when he reaches out his hand, brushing away the clumsy flakes of pastry from around your mouth. You stare at him, eyes panning down to your skirt as you blush at the sight of golden flecks on the white fabric.
Brushing your hands over your covered thighs, you brush them away, looking back at him. Opening your mouth, you go to speak, all for your moment to come crashing down as Kyle barges into the Station.
Taking one look at the pair of you, he lets out a comically loud wretch, 'save it for the bedroom, please,' he breathes, closing the door behind him.
'What are you doin' back?' Simon asks, checking your face for any more crumbs, letting a small grunt when he's satisfied there are none, pulling his hand away from you. 'Thought you were going to be out all day.'
'I've been looking for Rhys,' he says, 'he's supposed to be keeping an eye on her and I haven't seen her, when I went to the cabin the door was locked, all the curtains were drawn too,' he explains, rubbing his head.
Your ears perk up with the mention of a cabin, glancing at Simon before back at Gaz.
She's in a cabin somewhere nearby and she's still alive.
Your heart settles with the thought.
'He couldn't have gone far,' Simon says, 'might've slept in or something- if something was wrong, he wouldn't disappear on us.'
'You're right,' Kyle says, closing the door behind him, 'he's a good kid, shouldn't be thinking badly of him in the first place, just difficult not to worry when he's usually there at the crack of dawn, you know?'
'Are people still demanding a trial?' you ask.
'Yeah,' Kyle responds, approaching the fireplace to the right of the bed you're sitting on, pulling the lid off of the kettle. Fortunately, Simon replenished it after making you both a mug of tea. 'We're trying to push it back; she's a nice girl from what I can tell, doesn't speak much though- to me at least,' he explains.
'Why don't you just let her go?'
'Letters from the Lords telling us we can't act until he's back home,' he says, 'unfortunately, we work for him. If it was up to me, she'd be back in the water; I think everything people are saying about her is nothing more than fairytales.'
You smile at his words; he's right, in terms of her, they are all fairytales.
If he's looking for the sirens from fairytales, he's already eyeing her as he talks to you.
'Do you want another cup of tea?' Kyle asks, looking at the pair of you. Simon shakes his head but you nod, though, before you can reach for your mug, it's taken from out of your reach as Simon holds it out for Kyle.
You give him a short look which he returns after handing your cup to to Kyle who busies himself with minding his business.
'You my servant now?' you ask.
'Can be if you want me to be,' he answers.
You roll your eyes, leaning your back against the wall, dusting the remnants of your breakfast off of your hands.
'You're sweet talk is making me sick,' Kyle calls, approaching you, carefully handing you your mug of tea, 'need some lessons in it, Simon,' he adds.
'Fuck off,' barks the man.
'I've got nothing to do so you're not getting rid of me for a while,' he says, 'I'm gonna stay here for a while before heading back up to the cabin, haven't had a moment to relax this morning,' he scoffs, 'could do with a moment of rest.'
Sitting forward, you move your legs off of the bed, allowing Kyle to take a seat beside you, sipping from your mug, 'there's always something to be doing,' he begins to complain, 'never a fuckin' quiet moment in thisβ'
The door to the station bursts open, slamming against the wall opposite.
'She's dead!'
The cup in your hand drops as you jolt from the sudden noise, the hot liquid merely missing your thighs as you shift out of the way, hearing the tea cup shattering as it meet with the stone floor.
You curse under your breath, looking at the mess you have made as you go to drop to the ground to clean it up, all for Kyle to shake it head while Simon stands up to address the man at the door.
'It's fine love,' reassures the man sweetly, 'you'll end up cuttin' your fingers, I'll clean it up,' he says, looking down at the shattered tea cup on the ground.
Frankly, you appreciate his kindness as you raise to your feet, looking around Simon's bulky frame to the man who scared you.
He's shaking as he speaks looking at Simon, his eyes blown wide, reflective of the surface of the moon as he tugs at his fingers while attempting to express the horrors of which he has witnessed.
'I left for the night, an' when I returned she was dead,' he says, 'bloody and beaten, whoever it was took all her scales, left them around the room like it's some sort of fuckin' confetti.'
Scales.
You're sure you hear Kyle yell, but you're unsure what he actually says.
There's anger in the young man's eyes, genuine emotion as he details every single gruesome detail of the scene.
Serelia.
The siren.
'W- Where?' you manage to get out, not caring if Simon is about to say something in response. 'Where is she?' you roughly demand.
The young man standing in front of you looks at you with wide eyes as you move in front of Simon.
Your lover doesn't say anything.
'Tell me!' you demand, grabbing his shirt.
'T- The cabin just beyond the Lords house,' he stutters.
Without much thought, you're rushing out of the station without any hesitation, rushing through the streets as your heart rages in your chest.
Your mind is racing with his confession, shoving past and barging shoulders with everyone as you push through the busy town square, staggering up the steps towards the direction of the Lords house.
You're aware of the man behind you; Simon never really did let you out of his sights, after all.
Everything seems so much smaller in your eyes as you stumble further and further up, tears flowing freely down your cheeks.
Perhaps it's some form of sick joke- she's okay, she's just playing dead; she's a smart girl, even having tricked you a few times.
She's okay- she's got to be okay.
You're in a fit of hysterics as you pull the door open to the small, reserved cabin.
There are footsteps behind you, a distant call for your name, only, when you pull the door open, you seek the sister you had lost that night on the shore. Still bleeding as she was when she had been taken despite her pleads for freedom, only, she isn't moving.
She lays on the wooden ground of the room, her hand open in your direction, as stray tear slipping down her face as her open, bruised eyes stare into nothingness.
You stand at the door, your bottom lip trembling as you scream out, 'SERELIA.'
Rushing up to her side, you collapse onto your knees, trembling hands hovering over her swollen body, blood seeping into your white frock as you simply sit and stare in horror.
Placing your hand against her cheek, you flinch at the icy feeling of her skin, trailing the tips of your fingers over her soft flesh. Stray scales sit on the ground from around you, plucked like petals from a daisy.
Her body is destroyed, pretty face so swollen, you hardly know who you're looking at.
Nausea hits you, though you fight against the urge to vomit up your breakfast, lunging forward, slipping your hand beneath the bleeding body of your sister, resting your forehead against her shoulder as you pull her close, her body falling over your lap as you sob, brushing your hair through her dirty ginger locks as your body shakes against her still one.
This all feels like a bad dream that you wish to wake from, only, you cannot.
'I- I'm sorry, my urchin,' you manage to get out between spouts of hyperventilation and nausea, your nails digging into her flesh as your arm settles in her blood.
'My beauty, they have destroyed you,' you mumble under your breath, unmoved by the stench in room as your chest swells.
Pulling your head off of the corpses shoulder, you press your hand firmly against her rotten cheek, observing the countless amount of cuts.
You feel the room spinning as you observe the true brutality of mankind, how they are so careless towards the rest of natures creations and you feel like a fool.
A fury burns within you, your tongue ceasing as two hands are placed on your shoulders, attempting to move you away from Serelia. Looking up over your shoulders, you spy the bewildered eyes of your lover.
'Let go of me, Simon,' you demand, turning your head back to the woman on the ground.
His hands stay firmly on your shoulders.
You wish for him to relent, but that's not in his nature. No, he wishes to keep you from all danger, and with the mess you have made of yourself and the crime scene, somewhere deep inside, you understand that you cannot have the very thing you desire.
You're pulled to your feet, crying as you kick and scream in his arms, the bloody skirt of your dress sticking to your legs as you fight against him.
'Let me go!' you cry, turning in his hold, bringing your hands to his chest, weakly hitting him as though it is he who caused the bloody slaughter. 'Let me go,' you hiccup as you're pulled out the door, away from the sight that is sure to haunt you for the rest of your life.
Pushing your hands against his chest, you shove him with all you might, though he does not move.
Placing you against a tree, he gently guides you to the ground as your legs give, kneeling on the ground before you as you chase after your breath, your legs laid out in front of you, your hands resting flat against your thighs.
Looking up towards the sky, you spy the moon staring down upon you despite the morning sky, proceeding to cry as you recall the lights on the shore the night Serelia was taken.
Your throat burns with the desire to scream and scream until you have torn the very vocal cords nature gifted to you, seeing no use in them as you come to realise that you will never call her name and get a response ever again.
'You were never on our side,' you sniffle harshly, hot tears flowing free as Simon simply stares at you. 'I see their torches in the light of your stars. You make us the villains, fool us into doing your dirty work, and then leave us stranded when you want no more to do with us,' you seethe, turning your head to the side as you continue to sob.
Simon's hand presses against your flushed face, pushing your head up from off of your shoulder, 'love, you need to calm down,' he utters gently. 'You're gonna make yourself sick if you keep on like this,' he warns.
He means well, you love him enough to acknowledge that in the midst of your fury.
Yet, your punishment leaves you weak and weary, missing the water you grew up in, missing life prior to that night.
'I already am sick,' you retort in a broken tone, 'infected with the parasite that makes me you, that separates me from her,' you cry, 'no longer a siren, only human.'
You don't care what happens, and, if you do, your emotions keep you from logic.
'W- What?' the man beside you chokes out.
You don't miss the way his hold on your face tightens, yet, you do not flinch, permitting his harsh hold as you look him in the eyes, swallowing harshly.
'I'm not a human,' you whisper, 'I don't know what I am anymore... I never had a sister, I was never in a wreckage, I was looking for her, my Urchin,' you admit, turning your head in the direction of the cabin. 'And now she's gone.'
Your sobs fill the void of silence, only, nothing fills the void of warmth against your face as he pulls his hand away from your face. Looking at him, your bottom lip wobbles.
Every lesson your mother has ever taught you is urging you to hate him, telling you that it is his fault that there she's lying there alone in a puddle of her own blood, unrecognisable.
However, no matter how much you wish to lunge forward and claw his eyes from out of his head, you find heart and mind conflict easily.
'Please say something,' you beg, caving to the gaping hole in your chest, longing for the return of his touch for, what is left after him? An outcast? Nowhere to return, even the ocean doesn't want you, and your bleak reality begins to settle in as his eyes do not change. 'Please, please talk to me, I- I've already lost herβ'
He's unsure how to tread, you see the weariness in his eyes. 'What part of you is real?' he asks, 'or are you just a liar?'
'My love for you is real,' you blurt out, 'I cherish you, all of you for caring for me and for taking care of me when I needed it the most,' you continue, 'but I couldn't tell you, Si'- I- I've been trying to think of a way to tell you the truth and I was gonna do it today- I swear to you.'
'Why?' he lowly asks, 'are you afraid of me?'
'Are you afraid of me?' you question, looking him in the eyes as a stray tear falls past your eye.
He pauses.
'Your people murdered one of my own, Si',' you choke out, a flurry of emotion blowing over you as your face and skin prickle with an insatiable heat. 'We act accordingly, you treat us violently, we react with violence, but she...' your words trail, 'she did nothing to anyone, Simon. Had a voice as sweet as honey, charming, loving to the creatures of the sea, and look at what happened.'
'What's stoppin' you from hurting me?'
His voice and tone are raw as you look at him.
Truthfully, in the midst of your misery, you're unable to see the reason which keeps your fury at bay, though, when you look into his eyes, you understand for a moment long enough to form a response.
'You tried to keep her safe,' you whisper, 'keeping her from everyone, keeping her out of the way. They got to her, you didn't.'
And I can't let myself get to you for something you haven't done.
He exhales, looking towards you with bleary eyes.
Always, the desire to push him away is going to nestle within after the events of today, but nothing stops you from lunging into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck with as you sob.
His large hand presses against your head as he pulls you close, his hold on you almost crushing as you cry into the nape of his neck. If he is hushing you, you can't hear him.
You're in his arms and he's got you.
His hold feels the same as the one you have became accustomed with during your time on land, nothing has changed.
Feeling him tug at his mask, you settle when you feel his lips press against your forehead, and with a small voice he utters, 'I love you,' he says, 'human, siren, sea monster, sea urchin, I don't fuckin' care,' he states firmly, placing another kiss on your forehead.
'I love you too,' you tightly say, feeling the urge to smile at his words, but you don't, simply remaining in his arms.
'I'm sorry, love,' he utters. 'She didn't deserve any of this, neither did you.'
With your face buried into his neck, you nod your head.
'I know.'
You lay in his arms for what seems like an eternity, holding his bloody shirt as he rubs your back.
There's nothing that can be said, you know that.
Both of you do.
A man of few words can hardly be expected to become a flowing fountain of knowledge in the span of an hour.
Anyone else would curse him for not trying to make you feel better, maybe even say he doesn't care about you. But his rough touch turns gentle with you. His boisterous manner is reserved to calmness.
Oddly enough, it's in the most violent man that you find your faith in humanity is kept from drifting off of the cliff, toppling over into the ocean.
Eventually, you feel him shift beside you and you're moved as though your a doll in a child's arms. Looking down at you, he brushes his hand against your face, wiping away the tears that have flooded your face. You place your hands over his much larger ones, looking him in the eyes as you sniffle.
'We can't leave her there like this,' he utters, 'they'll wanna burn her body, 'not gonna let that happen.'
You mouth grows dry.
'We'll bury her up here, there's a clearing near the cliff, overlooking the water so she's not too far from home.'
No words leave your mouth so you simply nod your head in agreement as the pair of you raise from the floor.
Her helps you up and keeps you steady, not daring to let go of you, seemingly fearful that, if you fell, you would shatter and leave him forever.
He does all the work, leaving you to sit and watch as he carefully raps the girl in a sheet, lifting her into his arms with ease.
You standby and watch idly, holding a shovel in one hand and a lantern in the other, unable to look the dismal sight in the eye.
As, you step outside of the cabin, keeping your head bowed as you follow after him, heading towards the burial sight he mentioned.
It's hidden, private, and you stand near the edge of the cliff, looking down into the darkened abyss of water below you as you hear the occasional grunt from behind you as Simon busies himself with digging the gave.
At this moment you're resentful, wishing for some form of blow to the head to send you over the cliff, rejoicing in the short fall before you're able to escape from the consequences of your failure.
Only, you cannot will yourself to go over the cliff on your own accord, knowing if you did, Simon would most likely blame himself- if not follow right after you.
Living in the idea is enough to keep the action at bay, the resounding guilt and regret you imagine you would feel after taking the leap filling you with dread.
So, you turn yourself around and sit next to the woman wrapped in white while Simon makes a grave for her to finally rest her weary head.
It's difficult to say goodbye.
It was difficult when you said goodbye to your mother, a bitter pill to swallow when old age claimed the crazed woman on the seas, though, the guilt stabbing into your heart like a dagger proves to make this send off much worse.
Never did you dream of doing something so horrible, yet, here you are, unable to escape reality.
It's the dead of night by the time the grave is ready, the lantern in your hand flickers as Simon holds the body of Serelia in his arms, lowering her into the grave he constructed using a shovel.
The sheet she's wrapped in is stain red, marked with her blood, and while your chest grows heavy at the sight you find solace hiding in the shadows away from the moonlight.
Kneeling to the ground beside him, you tear the edge of your skirt, placing it onto her body with a shaky sigh.
He looks at you.
'When someone passes, we pull one of own scales and lay it with them to rest so they always have a piece of us with them,' you explain, 'I can't do that for her, but I'm not going to leave her with nothing,' you state.
Grabbing the edge of his shirt, you watch with a sunken smile as he rips a piece of his shirt of, laying it beside the piece of your dress you laid upon her.
'It's an apology,' mumbles the man, 'couldn't be there to keep her from harms way in this life, but she'll have me in the next. She'll have the both of us, yeah?'
'Forever and always.'
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You return to his home covered in blood.
He helps you wash, rubbing a sponge around your back as you lean forward, chin resting against your knees with void eyes. You say nothing to him, only listening to his gentle requests.
While doing so, he feels a heat growing his stomach. It had been set alight from the very second he heard you screaming and crying, and the longer he focuses, the more he finds his blood boils. Someone in the village knew where she was and they killed her- perhaps even multiple people.
A poor young girl was murdered, and in the process they murdered your spirit.
And now he is scared as he looks at you.
There's nothing to tie you to the land anymore, he understands that as he wraps you in a towel, carrying you up the steps to his bedroom in a woeful silence.
There's nothing to tie you to him and he wishes to paint the town red for the crime committed against you, swearing to himself that he will find the perpetrator.
The next time he's cleaning blood from under his fingernails will be the time he has avenged you.
Until then, however, he's committed to being beside you until you no longer want him there as he looks onto you after helping you get ready for bed, lying on his back beside you.
Nothing is left in you, your soul devoid of anything as your mind wanders to her body wrapped in that white sheet, and as you look to the dress discarded on the floor, you find you're not too far off her fate.
Laying your head upon his head, you listen to his heartbeat to make sure he's alive, fearful that he will leave you before you get the opportunity to leave him first.
'I love you,' you croak.
'I love you too, sweetheart.'
After a while he his breathing calms, soothing and melting as a wave on the beach did.
Your mind has been made up since he placed his shirt beside yours, and as you watched him cover her with dirt, you stood with crossed arms and contemplated for a while. The crashing of the waves over the cliff edge called for you as you stood there.
You cannot stay here.
For the good of yourself and the good of him.
Too much is at risk now, and too much has been lost.
Too many thoughts fill your head, bad thoughts. Bringing him to the water all to sing a song to pull him into it.
You'll watch as he fights for air, trying to break the surface of the water once more, but you will not care, simply watching him fight and fight until all life leaves him and his soul has left you.
Foolish mortal men.
You hear your mothers voice ringing in your ears as you look at his sleeping eyes, then to the blood beneath your nails.
Sinking into the watery depths of a sirens den.
Crawling from beside him, you offer him one final look at you lean over the sleeping man, pressing a kiss onto his temple, watching as his hand curls around the pillow on your side of the bed.
Misery strikes you as you look at the empty spot, something within you urging to you to crawl back into bed beside him, only, you're reminded of the celebrations litter through the town, the festering buzzing of the flies in the cabin, and the swollen face of Serelia.
How is one to move past such when they lack the very emotion of remorse?
And how are you supposed to keep your emotions at bay when you feel an unquenchable urge to bring the village into the water?
Both are impossible to solve, and somethings are better off left broken, for, if you act on your anger, you betray the man you love with all your being.
But, if you act on love, you betray the women in the sea who are most likely worried sick with your disappearance. So, you take hold of the first dress he bought you, pulling it over your head, eyes teary as you look at him sleeping.
You're making the right choice in leaving, you say that to yourself when you place another chaste kiss against his cheek, allowing the thought to follow you as you push the door of his house open, stepping onto the pavement.
It follows you down the twists and turns of the street, leading you from place you have both loved and lost back to the ocean where you have only ever know strength and family.
The land is cruel, harsher than the sea.
Even during a violent storm you find you prefer the sea for the land houses people capable of despicable things, maintaining the ability of hurting you, not only on the outside, but also on the inside. You long for normality, for a sense of belonging again, and while you know you will always have a place in his bed and arms, you have a duty to fill elsewhere, an anger to keep at bay, people to keep safe.
You have to go, and you hope he understands.
A man of few words yet the only man who could ever hold your heart and not shatter it, and as you're walking on the sand, stumbling towards the water, you allow yourself to cry an ugly and loud cry as you fist at the fabric of the dress he gifted you, pulling the skirt to your mouth, pressing your lips against the fabric. Your legs carry as you remain with the skirt bundled in your arms, inhaling the scent of the place you have grown to know as home.
But it's never going to be home again.
The water greets your feet as you allow your arms to drop to your side, walking into the sea.
The waves crash down, soaking the bottom of the pink fabric and you continue to sob as you edge further and further into the water, cupping your face in your hands as you stiffly wade through the waves.
Wiping under your eyes with your fingers, you raise your head in the direction of the sky, seeing the moon sitting above the sea. You keep your eyes trained on the red moon, unmoved by the winking stars in the night sky as you turn your back to her.
Observing the land one last time, you fall backwards into the water, whispering an ode to Serelia under your breath as the ocean swallows you whole.
πΌπππππππππ
TAGS: (If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!)
@forever-twenty-two-years-old
#call of duty#cod#ghost x you#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley x you#mw2#cod mw2#cod au#task force 141#cod mwii#ghost simon riley#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost x reader smut#ghost x reader angst#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#simon riley x y/n#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x you#simon ghost smut#simon ghost riley x reader#siren au#alternate universe
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Hey folks and friends! Guess who is kinda sort back? ME!
As you probably know from my downstream posts, my sister had a major health crisis and I moved her and her cats in with me and my dogs, and there was a major operation then chemo.
It has been a little over six months and I have been just...I don't know how to even describe my state of mind, especially during the weeks I actively thought she was dying. Just. I was fucked. Let's just say that.
But the good news is, she was declared cancer free last week (EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE) and we are trying to put our lives back together as a family, and I am trying to put my mental health back together.
A big part of my mental health is the act of nerdery. Book analysis. Writing. Creativity. It's a hugely important outlet for me.
So if you missed me or my writing at all, just know I missed being here even more.
To anyone who commented on my posts about her or sent me messages or asks, thank you so so so much for your kindness. It mattered to see that humanity and goodness still exists on the internet.
I'm gently wading back in.
I hope you are all well. And we will see if people are still interested in my witcher content. I went through the tag, and I don't know many of the creators now, and the folks I follow have seemed to mostly moved on to other fandoms.
So I'll be finding more folks to follow and boost (not to worry, I don't unfollow mutuals for leaving my fandom. We're buds now). But if you have any blogs to recommend lemme know.
See you around my friends! Oh, and I'm gonna start working through my asks and inbox tomorrow.
xoxo
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24 ASKS! :D THANK YOU!! π§
Not in my AU she's not! For 2 reasons-
For 1, my AU is built from Mario games and media I personally know/am familiar with. I know a little bit about Mario sunshine and saw a comic where Delfino island was Daisy's vacation island. So I took that info and crafted it into my AU lore! My Daisy's kingdom is populated by Delfino's, and it sits along the coast nearby the Mushroom Kingdom.
The other reason is I only heard of what Sarasaland was like two days ago. I've never played any of the games its from and had no idea it existed. So I didn't add it to my AU and I definitely cant add it now-
But even if I did, I'd have the same problem. Why is Daisy the ruler of these little.. dancing.. skeleton.. guys..?? If she isn't one of them?
@neo-metalscottic (Post in question)
AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DD And yeah, that was Wendy and Roy! Though her exact reasoning for crying hasn't been fully thought out yet. I was thinking that she was having trouble putting on her make-up and ribbons.. maybe that was something the Koopalings mom would help her with before she.. well.. :( (Also, I do intend to finish/expand on that comic/idea very soon! :}} )
As for Iggy and Lemmy, they're not twins in my AU! Though they are close, they are very apart in age. I don't know what "older lore" you're talking about.. if you're referring to a game or a show, I have never seen it. :( All the Koopalings personalities and dynamics are just going to be made up/decided by me :)
As for their closeness, what brings them together is their eyes and their love for magic/Kamek.
I had this idea that Iggy was born blind, and Lemmy was born with a lazy eye/cross eyed. Kamek was able to use his magic to restore a fair bit of Iggy's sight and reposition Lemmy's eye. The result is their eyes and faces have unusual colors and patterns.. but they can see! And they are very thankful to Kamek for that.
Also that exposure to magic at such a young age has really drawn them into it.. they're both supposed to be really interested in magic and learning how to use it. Thus their closeness with each other and Kamek!
@tallchest13-blog (Sent after this post I believe..?.. orr was it this one-- maybe this one??)
XDD Thank you so much!! I'm glad to see so many folks are interested in my interpretation of the Mario bros!! :DD And good luck with your discord RPG! :}
Well since there are a ton of pirate/seafaring cookies in the game, I assume water isn't a problem. :0 Though it is for Louis becuase he cant swim- (His claw arm is very heavy so he sinks-)
(Link in question)
GOLDEN FREDDY??? XDDD
Tbh that gets a bit of an eye roll form me. I miss the old days when Golden Freddy was just a terrifying Easter egg in the first game.. things were so simple back then.. π
@jaybleu25 Ah no worries, I understand. Here, take a look at my 1:AM red scribblings XD
And if its not clear, the last 4 images of that post are all Roy and Wendy :} Hope this helped!
(Post in question)
AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DD And yup yup! That's Wendy! :DDD
(Link/video in ask)
Oooo :00 what a beautiful song! :DDDD
(Post in question)
I can see the braid refusing to stay together and eventually unweaving itself. Its all flowy and free~~π«π«
<XDD ?? Huh??
I suppose in the actual games the treasure is like that. But I like to imagine my crew finds actual gold treasures π€©β¨β¨
The only version of Robin hood I'm familiar with is the Disney Fox version. I'm not sure what you mean by his "merry band".. π
Hmm.. I don't think so. But maybe Tuna has..? Or maybe that's how Louis could have lost his original arm-
@raven-bearden-the-interviewer42
Probably Seafoam's love.. π₯Ίπ
(Link in question)
I feel like Coco would be the one to get pied trying to protect Red. And Tuna would have been the one to set up the trap XDD
@couchwow
XDD All I could think is of how terrifying the brown creature in the second image is. I MEAN LOOK AT HIM!-
WHAT IS THAT??? XDDD
@neo-metalscottic (Mario bros post in question) (Princess post in question)
AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :D I'm glad you like them! Though I wonder what about the old designs I would combine the new ones.. I fixed/altered all the flaws I saw with the old designs. I'm not sure what I'd keep-
As for Luigi and the Poltergust, he doesn't ever get that. Since Mario is never captured by the Boos, why would he need it? And I haven't decided what to do with E.Gadd yet, if anything at all..
As for Mario and Bowser.. I was thinking that Mario kind'a just said that in the heat of the moment. But he would be willing to take him down permamntly if he ever showed his face again.. but right now Bowser is definitely not causing any more problems for a while.
Mario and Luigi scared the daylights outa him. The hero's of Legend are real, and they're here. Bowser is probably scrambling for means of defense atm and wouldn't dare send anyone over there to cause trouble.
As for the Chain Chomp.. even if Bowser wanted to release it and wreak havoc on the bros/the mushroom kingdom.. I don't think he could. Kamek was unable to control Petey Piranha and rein him back in when he escaped. What make's him think they'll have any control over the Chain Chomp if they release it? It'll probably just turn around and eat Bowser's castle instead- and once its out, how will they trap it again?
And oh yeah, they could beat it. All they'd need is 1 super star and the Chain Chomp would be flattened in a matter of seconds. βπͺ
@yoylecake420
I know absolutely nothing about him or the game he's from. :( He's made of wood I think..?
@astaherussy (Post in question)
WAAAHAHAGH THAK YOU!! :DDD
And don't worry! I don't intend to rush anything <XDD --I'm trying to take my time thinking the lore through and filling in plot holes-
(Post in question)
<XD Well I don't wanna ramble about the lore until its a little more set and stone. I don't wanna say "this is my idea!" and then 15 minutes later go "well actuallyyyy...."
Maybe so! XD I wonder if its like that in the games.. π€
Ooooo I could see that! :00 That could be Urchins weapon maybe!
(Post in question)
XD I guess great minds think alike? That, or Rosalina is just really cool-
@sparkdrawsstuff
I'm sure they've faced all that and more! :00 Also thank you!! :))
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I have a question! You're a shipper. Therefore, you like both S&C, but you only post about Sam and the posts are about him not doing enough to expand his brand, how he is miscast and untapped potential. You've said you were a defender of Sam, but I did not think you came across that way, you mostly write about what Sam isn't doing to your liking. So, my question is why don't you post about Caitriona? One Belfast post some weeks ago and a paragraph about her non-existent branding. Of course, this is your blog, and you can post and say whatever you'd like, I'm just an anon so I don't have a leg to stand on here, but I'm being genuine in asking.
Dear Caitriona Anon,
Yours is an interesting, provocative question and for this reason alone it did not make the classic trek to the bin (yay?).
Oh, yes, a shipper I am. Probably not what you folks call an 'extreme shipper', but a staunch, firm shipper, whose convictions aren't just based on wishful thinking. Enough said.
May I ask (and I swear I am doing it without malice) for how long have you been following my page? I wrote about C quite a number of times, even specifically about her, in a very positive way, if you'd just care to look into the archives. For example, this post: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/724773265698062337/la-passante-de-la-place-des-vosges-the-passerby. And I have always, always ferociously defended S, against all odds, especially when the Disgruntled Tumblrettes (probably the most unkind, dishonest, cynical tribe of this fandom) went for him in a rather unsavory fashion.
Now, Anon, do not expect me to constantly fangirl over These Two, because this is not going to happen. They are my age and as such, I see things perhaps a bit differently than OL's main demographic. Cynically speaking, I can afford the luxury of being a bit irreverent, from time to time, about two people I find extremely endearing (make no mistake) and worth of my attention. Not a mommy, nor a worshipper. Just a rational shipper (we are quite a few, in here, you know), who does not think this is all about unicorns and leprechauns for ever frolicking at the end of the rainbow.
Because it's not - this is about two people who make terrible gaffes and horrendous mistakes, too. This is about a girl who sometimes shows such entitlement and wrath, that it is almost too hard to like her, at times. And about a boy whose foot in mouth syndrome is, by now, proverbial. This is about two people whose lies and coverups slowly turned them into cartoonish, PR-generated versions of themselves. And this is about two people who, almost like in a Wilde parable, unexpectedly found fame, fortune and love on their path. Will they squander part of it? All of it? Will they be wise about it and learn from their own blunders? This is something I find fascinating to observe, Anon.
My critiques of S's branding have always been, I think (or at least, I sincerely hope), respectful, motivated and constructive. Mainly because I think that (particularly) in his case, there is a deep chasm between his PR and real personas. He would have everything to gain if he stopped trying so hard to be someone he obviously isn't. And so would she.
If my thoughts are not your jam, Anon, simply stop reading me. What you do seem to conveniently forget, too, is that this blog is also, and maybe above everything else, about these two people falling for each other, for real. And it is my deepest belief that we do not help this story by turning it into a cheap clichΓ© or behaving like a hungry mob prone on tantrums if they do not deliver what is conventionally expected. And perhaps you are right, in a way: I seldom post about them as separate entities. In my mind, they are one.
You are welcome to answer, Anon. And I hope I managed to do the same with your question.
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JULY UPDATE (master's thesis)
2nd Update (July):
Hello, hello!
Just thought I'd give a little update on how it's going, it's been a while since the first and last update so far. I'm still working with the data, it's taking longer than I thought it would (mainly because I am an anxious person with the wish to do everything to the best of my ability, leading to a lot of insecurity and sometimes procrastination. Hurray.) But everything is moving forward, which is a good thing, and I currently hope I'll wrap things up in a few weeks. Can't promise anything though, because if things went as I planned I'd be finished by now.
I'll keep you posted!
___________________________________
1st Update (March or April, I don't remember)
Hello!
I hope you can tell by the smiley little me above how thankful I am to everyone who helped share this survey and participated in it. And to everyone who wished me luck with my thesis!! (Oh, and to my friend Jojo, who took this little colored pencil drawing I sent her and digitalized it for me.) I know that this topic is very emotional to people, so I am extra appreciative that you took the time and energy to help me out. Since I seem to not know how tumblr works despite being here for nearly 10 years (as already said in my comment in the notes of this post that might have led you here), I am not yet sure how to efficiently ensure that everyone who would be interested in the results will be informed when they are βpresentableβ. This post for one will be updated when there is news (which will take an amount of time I canβt specify yet, the data analysis and putting it all into a written thesis will take itsβ time) and I will leave it pinned on my blog until my thesis is complete so it is hopefully easy to find.
Thank you all so much and I wish you a great day, where- and whenever you exist at the moment.
___________________________
(Original post)
Hello, folk of tumblr!
Iβm a german psychology masterβs student and currently in the process of gathering data for my masterβs thesis. Therefore, Iβm searching for people who are interested in participating in an online survey. The study addresses how current and former Harry Potter fans deal with J.K. Rowlingβs views regarding trans people.
For this purpose, a study was created that consists of questionnaires and a few open-ended questions. If you are over the age of 18 and are/were a Harry Potter fan, your participation would help me a lot! It would support both my master's thesis and the expansion of the state of research on this topic in general.
Due to the format of the questionnaires and the open-ended questions, it is advisable to work on this study on a PC. Especially because of the open-ended questions, the time it will take you to complete the survey may vary greatly, estimated is a time between 20 and 40 minutes.
The attached link will lead you directly to the study if you are interested.
Greetings and virtual thank you cookies to you!
Note: This study deals with an issue that causes a great deal of distress to many individuals. If you are one of those people, please handle it in a way that is safe for you.
Click here for the English version of the study
(https://survey.aau.at/index.php/199547?lang=en)
Click here for the German version of the study
(https://survey.aau.at/index.php/495548?lang=de)
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Gender and Why It Matters
Hi! Gender matters because it tells you who you are. Separate from the sex (or intersex) you were identified as at birth. Your gender identity refers to the gender (or genders) that your deepest feelings belong to.
The gender spectrum shows the existence of multiple identities related to gender and a vast array of expressions to describe it. Cisgender female is at one end of the spectrum and cisgender male is at the other.
Cisgender means someone whose internal sense of gender matches the sex they were identified with at birth. And gender is your internal identification of who you are.
In between cisgender male & cisgender female are people with genders that are more masculine, more feminine, and even genders that can fluctuate between feeling more female and more male in the same person. These genders may or may not match one's birth sex.
Any or all of this is normal for the person experiencing it. Normal for them because that is who they are.
Normal for you because it is who you are.
The gender binary is the idea of two distinct and opposing entitles- man/woman, which denies the existence of any other genders or anatomies.
Being non-binary is one term that is used to describe genders that don't fall into either the female or male category. Being non-binary is also normal for you if that is what you are inside.
And transgender is an umbrella term for persons whose gender identity, expression or behavior does not conform to that typically associated with the sex they were assigned at birth. Being transgender is normal for the person experiencing it, too.
Does gender have to conform to sex? No. Is it normal not to conform? For the person experiencing this, it is normal for them not to conform! Society may or may not agree with that. But society is not the focus here. You and the way you feel about yourself are.
Impressions of gender can get complex because there is even more. There are agender people that do not belong to any gender. Multigender people that belong to multiple genders. And once again, this is normal for those experiencing it.
While I certainly do not mean to leave anybody out. This blog focuses on a female gender identity because I know there are a lot of trans femme folks out there that may find it to be of interest, and I also strongly identify with a female gender, too. I live it 24/7 as a trans woman and creating the content for this blog comes easy for me. Because it is my life.
No matter who your are or what gender(s) feel right to you inside. I hope that this blog helps to support you in your journey.
Your trans friend, ~Jen @touristclass
#trans pride#transgender#transsexual#transgender support#lgbtqia#transisbeautiful#gender dysphoria#male to female#cross dressing#mtf trans#female gender identity#trans joy#trans journey#trans support
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Your blog might not be the place for this ask but could you maybe direct me to some Jewish blogs for ... Idk. Leaving orthodoxy to be queer?
Hi there!
I'm glad you felt safe reaching out to me, and I wish you much freedom and success in your path forward.
Without knowing your situation, I'm going to recommend a few different things you may wish to explore.
If you are wanting to first extricate yourself from orthodoxy and then work on finding like-minded queer folks, Footsteps is an invaluable resource and community. I'm not sure of an Israeli version, but I would be shocked if there wasn't one; if you want, I can ask around. As for Israeli tumblr blogs, I know a couple folks who might be able to point you in a better direction. If you want, I can reach out to them and see if they have ideas or would be willing to chat with you.
If you are wanting to explore liberal versions of Judaism that are institutionally welcoming to queer Jews, I would point you in the direction of Keshet. I personally know one of the rabbis involved and they are a phenomenal person. If you would like me to connect you with them, I would be happy to do so. But the organization as a whole is excellent if you want to send them a general message.
I don't know if you are at all interested, but if the only reason you are wanting to leave orthodoxy is because you are queer or questioning, you may want to talk to the folks at Eshel. When I was first exploring observant Judaism, they were able to connect me with a welcoming congregation whose most recent permanent rabbi had very publicly spoken about the need to include queer and trans Jews, and whose interim rabbi was actually in a relationship with a non-binary person at the time. Sunnie Epstein herself spent a full hour on the phone with me, telling me her story and helping guide me in the right direction.
I hope some of that might be useful; if you feel like sharing more about your situation, please don't hesitate to message me directly. I'd be happy to chat and connect you with whatever resources I can, or just be a listening ear.
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i saw ur reblog on my post, and am loving your blog so far :)
i want some headcanons for tighnari trying to learn new things that his girlfriend likes <3 like learning how to braid their hair, or teach them to make flowers crowns, or something cute like that hehe
<3
Flower Stems
A/N: Hello! I'm so happy to hear that from you, it really warmed up my heart. I love your writing. And of course, I love Tighnari and his overall character. I hope this does him justice, and that you like it <3 I tried something else with this text divider too, reminded me off Tighnari's voicelines about bookmarks, so I doodled a flower.
Genre: fluff, not completely proofread
The lead Forest Ranger may present himself as the warm, stern teacher to most of the folk around him, and with that being said - no one is really surprised when they catch Tighnari doing something more... domestic
He was never the kind of person to try and hide away and softness he may hold within him, but he also ensured that his kindness was never taken for granted and as some form of blindness to the rest of the world around him. If his status as a former Akademiya student isn't enough to prove his level of knowledge, his actions in his work field definitely does.
Even the mundane way he picks up long, thick stems of flowers, and the way his bare fingers weave the same stems through loops and knots - the elegant way he arranges the flower crown before your eyes makes it seem so easy, but when you try it, you're quickly proven otherwise
The fragile stems are smushed or get cracked, but Tighnari doesn't anger nor does he flick your forehead in disappointment. At best he would throw one of his witty comments, and then he'd gently take your hands, and help you weave a new flower through the previous loop, guiding you with his voice all the while
"You just need some more practice, don't wear yourself down just due to one mistake..come on, I'm watching over you. How about you go with this flower next?"
It's rare for him to find much free time to properly wind down, so he doesn't waste it whenever a sunny day comes by. He loves the feel of sunlight and lightly warm air on his tail and ears, and he loves feeling the weight of your head on his thigh as you both rest on some high branch, or in the warm shade of the undergrowth
You wouldn't have to ask him to play with your hair, he would do so on his own the moment you lay down and those strands fall over him
He knows one or two things about braiding, and he's so gentle at picking and separating small portions of your hair to play with and braid. Tighnari doesn't want to pull on your hair, and if either of you have a brush at hand, he'd brush out any knots first. He doesn't ask for you to teach him, he would prefer to hone this little skin on his own, but the first time you wince when he accidentally pulled too sharply he's asking for your aid
Those big ears of his are perked forward as you pull some hair to the front and begin explaining the classic way of braiding, and his fingers follow your motions on the previous strands he began a braid on
It feels weirdly intimate to him. He even suggested to wear matching ones, just a small one if you would prefer to do something else with the rest of your hair. He would braid yours himself, and you can make a small one in his hair. He would pull on it gently throughout the day when he's reminded of you, or just needs a semblance of stability
If, by chance, you are interested in some essential oils for your hair, Tighnari will be more than happy to offer some of his top favorites. Although he makes sure they aren't harsh, since he usually uses those on his tail, and fur and hair are quite different.
It goes without a doubt that he'd try and introduce you to more mushroom recipes. Tighnari is always mixing new ingredients into his mushroom dishes, and he would always make a portion extra for you. He would try it with you if the meal looks too intimidating to you and he would tell you all about it you're willing to listen
If the mushroom is big and sturdy enough, he would try cutting out some shapes, like crescent moons, fish, flowers..etc.
Tighnari makes a note to visit you before bed (if you are not living together again) and kiss you goodnight. He's almost parental with it, but he just wants you to be well and healthy and sleep well. He would grow grays besides his green streaks if you were to fall ill
Opposite of the last note, he would visit you earlier in the morning before his patrols, leave a flower or some breakfast on the table for you, and then he'd leave, without disturbing you.
βΈ n0tamused 2022. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.
#tighnari#tighnari x y/n#tighnari x reader#tighnari x you#tighnari imagine#tighnari headcanons#genshin comfort#genshin x reader#genshin tighnari#n0tamused.headcanons#sumeru#Forest ranger#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader
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Hey, I love this blog! Such a fun idea, it was an instant follow from me. I was wondering, do you know where the fashion plates come from? If so, I would find it interesting if you added the country/region to the post.
hello my dear! π
thank you for your super sweet words! βΊοΈ I'm so glad you're enjoying the blog! π₯°π₯°
and thank you for your fantastic question! my answer is long, so I apologize in advance, but (un)fortunately, I have that Cannot Shut Up About Special Interest Autismβ’οΈ π
, so here we go! (below the cut)
it's honestly a pretty mixed bag with knowing where things come from versus not knowing. some of the plates do come from digitized archives of particular publications that have publication info (including city of publication), but since by and large fashion plates fall under what I β as a visual culture historian β consider ephemera, they are, well, ephemeral, meaning that they often come down to us with less context than we might like
I will also say that even those that do come with publication info/location may very well have been distributed outside the city/state/region/country where they originated. for example, for much of the era of the "golden age" of fashion plates, Paris was The Spot for fashion, and so you get publications called things like "les modes de paris" (the fashions of paris) that are distributed not just in Paris and France, but also internationally so that fashion-conscious folks could see what was happening in the "fashion capital"
I guess all this to say that at this point it's not going to be super feasible for me to include location information for the plates, partially because that information isn't always available, and also because when folks submit fashion images to the blog (huge thanks to all those who have done this by the way β I so appreciate it and I love looking at what y'all send in!! βΊοΈβΊοΈ) I don't always have a way of checking sources, and I would hate to have that be prohibitive to people who want to send in images but might not have or be able to find that info
I will also admit that as a result of Certain Conditions of the Mindβ’οΈ by which I am afflicted, I would feel the need to go back in and provide that info for every plate I've posted so far, which feels very daunting. and again, that's totally on me β and I freely admit that β but that's just how my funky little brain works lmao π
I will end these unnecessarily long ramblings by saying a big HOWEVER, if there's ever a specific plate that you'd like a publication location for, I can do my best to try and find that for you! βΊοΈβΊοΈ there are also some fantastic blogs like @/chic-a-gigot that include more detailed publication info with the fashion plates they post. I'm also happy to point you in the direction of some digitized archives and collections if you're after more specific info for research/academic purposes π₯°π₯°
sorry this got so long, but thank you so very much again for your super kind words and for your great question! ππ I'm sorry I don't have a more satisfying answer for you, but hopefully this makes at least some sense βΊοΈβΊοΈ I hope you have a wonderful day!! π₯°π
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Feel free to ignore, but you mentioned that the fandom landscape has changed drastically from twenty years ago, and Iβm curious what that means for you. Iβve seen lots of posts on the topic, but am interested in your experience if you want to share.
I absolutely can share!
Twenty years ago, I found fandom through bulletin boards or message boards (depending on what you called them). Trekbbs was my first one, and it's still standing. High speed internet was relatively new, and it was easy to keep up with "threads." Whenever you logged in, it would take you to where you left off with any given thread so you could catch up. (Discord does this...kinda, but Discord moves at warp speed where BBS's moved at impulse power.) It was easier to stay connected, to get to know people. Also, the boards were (and are) heavily moderated. Trolls were banned, and folks who got too heated under the collar were usually temporarily banned until tempers cooled. So it was generally a safe environment.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that the vast majority of the boards were grown-up only. That's not to say that minors didn't sneak through, but they were on their best behavior lest they get found out and kicked off the board.
And from the boards, we learned where to find fanfic. Back then, even though FFN existed, fic was primarily archived on private sites. There were no such thing as likes and kudos back then. It was fandom etiquette (at least for my corner of the Trek fandom) to leave a comment/review if you read a fic (and be nice about it!). It was the era of Kink Tomato (your kink is not my kink and that's okay) and don't like don't read and simply fun. We had challenges, did round robinsβwhere someone would write a chapter of a fic, then another author would write the next, and so forth.
Even when I made the switch to posting more on FFN, it was pretty normal to send a message to someone to thank them for favorite-ing your story even if they didn't comment. And often they would message back, telling you what they enjoyed. I have some friendships born from this! It was normal. Writers weren't called "needy" and "self-absorbed" for hoping for more interaction with their readers. We were all in this together.
I also did yahoo groups for a time, and had a fantastic time with my friends in an email chain.
LiveJournal was kind of the peak of fandom, IMO. I think it was the first "public" website, rather than something privately owned, where we could build communities (private or public) as well as have our own pages (private or public). Some of the best fandom events happened on that site. But LiveJournal ended up imploding. (Cyber attacks then the new owners started wiping out entire communities without warning for violating the new terms of service. It was horrible.)
So we all moved to Tumblr. (And we were slowly moving to AO3. Some also moved to the site formerly called Twitter.)
Tumblr was pretty awesome back then. Because fandom people took the same community with them when they came. We didn't have replies back then, but dagnabit we screenshot tags or reblogged comments and posted them with replies. It was easier to follow tags and even some fandoms created blogs that were archives for fics. (Myself included.) The downside was, and continues to be, lack of moderation. Not that I think fandom should be gatekept, but it isn't as easy-going when you do have to worry about putting up with trolls as a rule rather than the exception.
Alas, life happened and I had to step away for a few years. When I came back...it's so much quieter. Significantly less interaction. Less comments on fics. There's just...less connection in general. People tend to flit in and out of fandom more often. And on top of that, there is the odd movement that fanworks shouldn't contain anything that would make a reader/viewer uncomfortable or is unrelatable to the general masses. As a fanworks creator, there have been times I felt more like a monkey dancing for a demanding audience rather than a squee-ing fan sharing things with fellow sqee-ing fans. I seriously questioned for a long time whether I would bother anymore.
(This also doesn't mention how streaming and binge-watching series rather than weekly releases have affected fandom. It's different when you get one episode a week for an entire season of 20-24 episodes than when a streamer releases the entire 8-10 episode series at once.)
A part of this is me, too. I don't have nearly as much time to invest in fandom as I used to. I can't be too critical of the changes in fandom, but it is different.
And so I hang onto a few of the friends I've found (like you!) and continue to find here and there. I write whatever I want and delete rude comments. I always reply to the others. And I keep plugging on!
Thank you for asking! And thank you for being part of what I love about being on Tumblr even after all these changes! (Sorry I got a bit verbose!)
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I am not an English native speaker,I hope you apologize my poor ENGLISH,I love your blog and your opinion about OCTAGRIPPA,here's my question
I just wanna know if you notice suetoanius mention that Octavian met an Eagle at Campus Martius when he 76 years old,watching the bird flyed onto Agrippa's name and announced himself would be dead soon? I consider it a very strong evidence to prove the two truly loved each other.Anyway in my culture,we don't think anyone should loved a friend until death like this
Hello! It looks like you're referring to Suetonius, Divus Augustus, 97:
It is a bittersweet passage, isn't it? We don't know whether it really happened, because stories of omens like this often develop after the fact. But it does suggest that people in Suetonius' time still thought of Agrippa and Augustus' relationship as significant.
Speaking of cultural differences, I think you'd find this interesting: I'm part of the aromantic community. I know six people who married people they love as friends, not romantically. To them, these relationships are just as important as romance is for most people. But some folks think a relationship without romance isn't good enough, and that these marriages are not "real love." So aromantic people here are trying to teach others that our love is still real, just different. Sometimes the most important person in your life is a friend.
(And some aromantic folks, like me, don't want a platonic relationship either. But that's another topic.)
This has also influenced how I look at history. Like many queer people, I like to look for historical same-sex relationships, and people we might now consider "trans." Finding people like us in history is important. But the aromantic community has taught me that the love in friendships is important, too. If every very close partnership gets put in the "romantic" category, it denies people like me a chance to find others like ourselves.
So how are we supposed to interpret something like Octavian and Agrippa? Is it possible to know what category they're in? Do categories like "romantic" or "platonic" even mean the same thing in ancient Rome??
Here's another cool thing aromantic people taught me: sometimes, there is no clear line between romance and close friendship. One of my friends says the feelings are indistinguishable for her. She is also happily married, to a very romantic person. You might think, "Romantic relationships have sex, friendships don't," but surprise! Both of them are also asexual! So for my romantic asexual friend, and some other folks, romantic feelings can exist without sexual ones.
If your response to that is, "Well, how do you tell the difference, then?"...you've run into the same problem I did, when studying ancient relationships. And we haven't even touched on cultural or linguistic differences between us and the ancient Romans yet! But this post is getting very long, so I'll leave that for another time.
All this is why, for my masterpost about Octavian and Agrippa (currently unpublished), I decided to change my goal. Instead of trying to put a label to what their relationship was, I decided to just collect the information we do have, to help fiction writers portray them. Whether you then write it as romantic or platonic (or "???") is up to you.
#sometimes i feel for the anons who ask me shippy questions and then get a whole-ass essay about sociology or historiography in response#i'm not mad don't worry. i just love talking about this stuff. being an aroace shipper is interesting sometimes#acephobia warning#arophobia warning#<--i don't think anon meant it like that but tagging it in case other folks are more sensitive to it#historiography#queer history#octagrippa#just roman asks#jlrrt essays
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hi foibs, hoping youβre doing well. thereβs something iβve wanted to ask you since burning shoresβ¦can you say more about why you werenβt impressed by seyka/seyloy? iβve valued your hzd opinions for a long time and am curious and interested to learn more about this one. but if youβd rather not answer thatβs fine!
Hi nonny!! I told myself I wasn't going to answer any of these, but I really appreciate your kind tone and am happy to address this again for you!
I won't go into a list of specific reasons why here. I do enjoy a good bit of piece-by-piece analysis a LOT but--frankly, picking apart another ship in a public zone like this is not what I want to exemplify on my blog, at all. It's not the kind of environment I'd like to create or discourse I'd like to foster. If those conversations are to be had at all--which, let's face it, they're probably not--they're to be had one on one, with a promise of good faith and open-mindedness between participants.
So to answer your question, I'll give a little more info, but still in generalities.
First and foremost, it's the simple fact that their dynamic, as portrayed in HBS, didn't spark for me! If y'all know me, you know that there is a very specific ship dynamic that I tend to latch onto, and this repeats ad infinitum across fandoms. I just wasn't compelled by the material, which is fine! More power to you if you were, for sure.
That loops into the second reason I'll give: yes, I did find the writing of HBS to be lackluster in many aspects, including the relationship between Aloy and Seyka. The sloppy writing absolutely influenced the way I viewed/reacted to Aloy and Seyka as a ship. To me, it did feel rushed and very much removed from the character and pacing of the series we've known for years. And that was not a boon for connecting with the presented narrative, the same way I began to feel disconnected from HFW. Once again, though, totally subjective and valid if it did hit for you!
I wanted to like Seyka so much more than I did. (This is--as I've shared other posts before--commentary on the writer's room character work, not on Seyka.) I wanted her to oust Alva as my favorite Quen babygirl (A HARD CHALLENGE, I'll admit). I wanted to be compelled by her, and by her dynamic with Aloy. She didn't, and I wasn't. And that's not an attack on Seyka herself, or on folks who enjoyed her. That's my own peeve with the writing and the way she was presented both in the narrative and in the HBS marketing.
If I can also use your ask to be a little vulnerable, nonny? It's been a hard six weeks. I feel like the posts I've put up and the opinions I've offered with regards to this have been nothing less than respectful and pleasant and, in a lot of cases, that grace hasn't been returned. From being blocked/unfollowed/vagued by other Horizon wlw shippers with whom I've built a rapport over the years (which of COURSE it's anyone's right to curate their feeds--still stings on the other side, in this situation especially)--to being directly compared to the Actual Homophobes for supporting the idea of romance options in game three (the same Actual Homophobes sending death and other threats directly to my inboxes)--it's an unfortunate state. I'm doing my best to be positive for the whole fandom, but some days it's harder than others.
In any case--I'll say, contradictorily--there is a Seyloy idea I've been working on, in attempts to connect more with them and sublimate my quibbles with what was presented in canon. So I hope any Seyloy enjoyers who might read it eventually (and this!) will take it in good faith when it's finished, as it's being written in nothing but good faith!
And, FINALLY, because every single time this question comes up, I say "I DON'T DISLIKE SEYKA" out loud in Nadja's voice, and this is the perfect opportunity to finally make the joke in public:
#again I appreciate you nonny and thank you for asking so genuinely!#horizon zero dawn#horizon forbidden west#horizon burning shores#horizon critical#seyka#not tagging the ship in a critical post because we don't do that here my siblings in GAIA
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(I know you didn't sign on to become the 'Kai Winn discourse blog', so I hope you don't mind me jumping into this discussion) but something I find odd is when people say the reason they *hate* Winn is that they know people like her IRL, but Dukat is just a sci-fi fascist, so they don't relate him to real life at all. Kai Winn is reduced to stereotypes yet Dukat is put on this opposite pedestal of 'he's so evil that no one in real life is like that, therefore I can ironically enjoy him because it's so far removed from reality' and I just don't get it. It's a perspective that feels so far removed from (at least from my) reality. Like sorry, but there's *plenty* of people in real life like Dukat. (I mean, I think setting up some sort of dichotomy between the characters is inherently reductive, but people treat them so differently it's hard not to see misogyny as a huge factor here. It's just so bizarre to see constantly.)
yeah, I've said in one post I've made about Dukat that even in my experience he's just a very common type of guy? I come from Italy and let me tell you... petty, slimy tyrants like Dukat are just dime a dozen in the so-called 'patria'. I think it's silly to pretend that Dukat is far removed from reality, and it goes against what DS9 was trying to say imho. Dukat isn't a 'special Cardassian', he's just a guy who isn't afraid to step on anyone's neck if it'll allow him to stay afloat. And also isn't afraid to rape Bajoran women as soon as he can get away with it.
Which brings me to my next point, about the general questions on 'why is Winn so vilified in comparison to Dukat'. There's a really interesting discussion in the replies of my previous post, and I recommend reading it but in short I think this attitude towards Winn starts already in the show. DS9 went out of its way to humiliate Winn in specifically gendered ways; by having Dukat rape her (a guy who is a serial rapist of Bajoran women specifically), by having her die painfully after having everything stripped away from her, and her death is ultimately meaningless unless you frame it as her 'just punishment'. Dukat in comparison gets to have an 'epic fight' against the show's protagonist (even if I think that storyline is so fucking stupid, it's still an epic fight.)
And so I think people are primed to feel like propping up Dukat and wanting to humiliate Winn further, by directly comparing her to him as being so much more deserving of punishment, it's just no big deal because it already happened in the show after all. But by doing so they're making it so much worse. Folks, that is a genuinely disturbing part of the show, it's never been good, Winn was mishandled so badly by the final episodes of DS9. There's something very sinister in insisting to not recognize that and wanting to hand even more punishment on Winn. Ask yourselves: why? Why do you feel like your violent fantasies are justified on her? Didn't DS9 already do enough to her?
#askbox#rape mention#'she got to throw out dukat though' CONSIDER THAT MAYBE SHE DIDN'T NEED TO BE RAPED AT ALL#ESPECIALLY NOT BY DUKAT
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Like I said already, I graduated high school this year. So naturally, because I'm somehow both lazy and busy at the same time, I don't draw anything for the occasion like I wanted to until the literal DAY before I start college. (Yeah, I'm not joking- my first day of college is tomorrow.)
Just because I've come this far since I joined Wattpad as a 7th grader doesn't mean I know how I did it. Oh, wait- yes I do. I do know. I guess I don't know my own brain. Anyway, it's because I had, and still do, a burning desire to reach out to you and tell you about all the silly little stuff I had on my mind. I also wanted to get to know people all around the cyber world who liked the same stuff I liked. (I hope I can find someone who does in my art college.) I wanted y'all to know that Unikitty and Minecraft: Story Mode were (and still are) my two most favorite things ever. For months, I begged my parents for it, and I eventually got it for Christmas. Over the years, I've come to like more shows, games and movies. I even realized that I liked doing musical theater, too. Since I joined Wattpad, I've expanded my posting to DeviantArt, this site, YouTube, and more. Β I've probably told you all of this many times before, but I say it for a reason.
As I also said already, high school was as fun of an experience as it was... interesting. I couldn't finish my freshman year, and I missed my entire sophomore year, and if you survived 2020, you probably know why. I still passed, though. I think that junior and senior year made up for that. I was in the school musical both of those years, I got to attend my first prom junior year, and I went to Thespian Fest senior year.
Maybe the real high school experience was the friends we made along the way, as I've joked. But I wanted to surround myself with people I could get together with. As SpongeBob said, "I only want to hang out with my friends." And I did, 'cause we made every day the best day ever, especially the night we graduated. (The trampoline park we went to afterwards had some killer chicken tenders!) I took one of my friends to see Elemental before she went out of state for her college. I still keep in touch with a lot of them. Still, I'm really gonna miss everyone, and I wish them luck in their future endeavors.
As soon as school let out, my family took me on a trip to celebrate the fact that I graduated, and I made a video about it. You can watch it on my channel if you'd like.
But, I digress! There are a bunch of people here who I've just gotta show my gratitude for. You guys are part of why I keep going in life.
For @joyseer24, @agent-egg, @sundove88, and @pinkiemeowstic89, some of the earliest people I remember interacting with me.
For @erin-the-epic and @clg-artisa, who never fail to put a smile on my face.
(Also, special thanks to all the Unikitty fans here and on YouTube who called me out on my BS back in 2021.)
To @nevaehjwilliamsvaeh, a fan of Mao Mao and Six. I always love seeing you in my notifications!
@pocketlad, thank you for being my lad.
For @federthenotsogreat. It's nice to have a fellow Mario & Luigi fan to chat with.
@generalfoxy21, thanks for liking my posts and tagging me in your picrews.
To my fellow lovers of WALL-E: @cosmo-naute, @ohthewhomanity, and @defineshitposting. Computer, define friendship- the love that we shared.
For folks like @hazed-miner, @tailsofairies, and @milliemakesmistakes. Thanks to all of you cube kids for liking my Minecraft: Story Mode stuff.
To @choupiee. Anybody who likes both Unikitty and MC:SM stuff is a friend in my book.
There are also more Unikitty fans I have to thank, including @glitzycatart, @passionatepinkkittynew, @lizatheeddsworldaddict, @theunikingdom, and @doomlordsbutfunni.
@keith-neil, thank you for your Unitober challenge! I had a great time participating!
@askthechronoverse, I've got you to thank for liking my posts, reblogging them, and asking questions on the Big Bright World blog. And, thanks for keeping the Unikitty and Lego Movie fandoms alive. It's come to the point where I consider you a true friend, Fabri.
And to all my other watchers who weren't mentioned here, thank you for watching me and sticking by me. I don't know how to end this, so I'm gonna say that life is weird.Β
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π© Simblr question of the day: You can answer one or both parts of this question!
1οΈβ£ Part one: If you make Story posts, what do you do for scenes? Do you build them yourself, do you download lots from the gallery or do you download them from someone online?
2οΈβ£ Part two: If you make Gameplay/Legacy posts, what do you do for a house? Do you build it yourself, download a home from the gallery or do you download them from someone online? Additionally, do you build onto that home or demolish it and rebuild the house when needed? (E.G When another child enters the picture or someone moves in)
β If you do none of those for either half, what do you do? Do you use someone else's save file? (WIndbrook by Folking, Willow Creek + Magnolia Promenade by Theneighborhoodsave, Silent Pines by Silentpinessave... etc)
( freely share this SQOTD around, anon or not, and use the hashtag " SQOTD " ~ π )
Hello, friend! Thank you for the thought and time you put into these questions. I hope the new blog takes off. β€οΈ
For both story and gameplay purposes, the short answer is I will always choose to do as little building (and ideally decorating) as I can get away with. Building is not my forte at all. I find it dull and draining, and even if I have references I often just don't know where to start. Decorating can be draining for me too because it activates both my indecisiveness and my perfectionism, but I'll do it slightly more often, especially for my Sims' homes because I do like them to be personalized. If I'm making a few changes here and there to an already decorated space, it's not a big deal. If I know I'll have to decorate an entire build, it's definitely something I need to mentally prepare myself to commit to because it'll probably take at least a week. (More rambling and examples under the cut.)
The only full build I've done for my story so far has been this shop in Oasis Springs because I couldn't find anything that matched the vibe in my head. It was so structurally simple but took me forever.
Ulrike's apartment and Vatore Manor are both builds by @haledela that I fully redecorated. I love replacing residential lots in my worlds with their builds because they look so much nicer than the usual Maxis monstrosities.
Sometimes I'll just decorate one room if I need something specific for a scene. For example, I temporarily replaced part of UBrite Commons with this classroom. For the concert scene, I used another build by @haledela and just spruced it up a bit to get the stage area looking how I wanted.
I find most builds on Tumblr. I'll scour finds blogs, follow the builders I like most, and then bookmark anything interesting that comes across my dash. I find browsing the gallery overwhelming, so I only do it if I can't find anything here or need something in a pinch when I'm already in-game. The types of builds I love most are multipurpose lots that I can use for several scenes but make look like different places! For example, Helena and Ulrike's break-up and Helena and Lilith's first meeting take place on the same lot. I also used the same lot for the haunted house scene in the prologue and the Spooky Bowl! They're both by the very talented and creative @whyeverr, whose builds I've used countless times.
Some of my other favorite builders besides the two I've mentioned are @alerionjkeee, @bottsbotts, @beetlemp3, @ratboysims, and @sweetbeagaming! They all have really diverse and unique builds that I always get a lot of mileage out of when I use them!
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Okay prev. anon. (the one who panicked about not finding your blog) I just wanted to lightly vent and share an experience cause I think you might sympathize a bit.
Not sure if you are on Reddit or not, but gods, r/paganism drives me bananas sometimes. I asked a question to see what people's experiences were on a practice that is not part of mine (and stated it was out of curiosity and exchanging notes), and someone immediately a. made assumptions about my practice, b. belittled my practice based on their assumptions and said it was not right (I have a strong animism flavour and they... compared it to studio ghibli, assumed I ASK FOR FAVOURS to spirits and then said I shouldn't burden them cause they are so little and delicate - I don't even pray that way or to ask for favours so that wouldn't even be a topic of debate for me), and c. told me to start the practice I only had one question about to comprehend what people meant with it. And then said it would WORK SPLENDIDLY WITH SHAMANISM and I had to restrain my whole self from screaming like a pterodactyl at that and writing full caps "I AM NOT INTERESTED IN SHAMANISM I CAN'T DO SHAMANISM IT'S A CLOSED PRACTICE I AM AN EUROPEAN WHITE PERSON AAAAAH" cause I just know the downvotes for that would have been... numerous.
Why are people.
I'm not on Reddit, and I haven't had this exact experience, but I've had experience with people making incredibly hostile assumptions from minimal information. In my experience, it can be incredibly frustrating and even traumatizing.
And I'm just... kind of in awe at the assertion that nature spirits would all be "little and delicate." Have they never heard of a blackberry bramble? A flash flood? A tornado? Do they imagine that the spirit of a mountain would be some fragile thing? Do they think people feared the sea for no real reason?
Anyway, I'm sorry you had to deal with all of that and I hope you can find what you're looking for soon.
Update: It's come to my attention that this anon was greatly exaggerating events. (Someone linked me to the original thread.) Folks, I want to say that I don't look too kindly on exaggeration or lying, even if the other party is technically wrong or inappropriate somehow. Anon here was basically making the exact kind of hostile assumptions I was talking about, and I'm less than thrilled about that.
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