#it's impossible not to feel bad for gilles at the moment | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

johnwickb1tsch · 3 months

Text

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 19 all chapters

“Jane! Will you hear reason? (he stooped and approached his lips to my ear); “because, if you won’t, I’ll try violence.” -Rochester, Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

WARNINGS: NSFW, POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T, PLZ TAKE CARE, LOVE U ALL 😘😘😘😘

-It is unfathomable, the amount of dread that manages to build inside you as you make that short walk up the stairs and down the hall. Back to the bedroom, which may as well be your jail cell. The locks on the door engage with what is to you, an ominous click.

Did you really think you were going to get one over on a man who was a professional predator?

You little fool.

You find it hard to read John’s expression. Not mad, exactly, but not happy either. Pensive. You realize he’s deep in thought, and that almost scares you more than if he’d peppered you with threats.

What is he going to do to you?

He drops you down on the bed, hard enough that you bounce. Your first instinct is to try to scramble away, but he is on you in a second, pulling you closer with hands on your thighs that will not be denied.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

He leans over you, trapping you in the cage of his arms and his torso. He is so much bigger than you, and you hate it that you find his looming body equally titillating as it is terrifying. Your hands gravitate to his chest, as though to keep him at bay, but mostly…just resting there, on muscle that is like warm carved granite.

You dare to look up meet his gaze, and find his eye has turned from swollen red to a vibrant royal purple. You know it must hurt.

Even more fucked up, you actually start to feel bad about it.

You reach up to touch his cheek lightly. “John…I’m sorry.”

His eyes narrow, and he looks you up and down so neatly trapped beneath him. “Oh, you’re going to be,” he practically purrs.

A trill of fear skitters down your spine.

“My ankle hurts,” you whine, angling for sympathy.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Pretty sure it’s yours.”

He chuckles at you, though there is a dark note beneath it all that lifts every hair on your body.

You are so fucked.

You cannot help but think he is savoring your nervousness, like a cat toying with a mouse. You are shaking like a leaf, and you flinch when he lifts a hand to your face. But he doesn’t strike you, just caresses the curve of your cheek.

You know deep down that he’s just priming you for what is to come, but fuck if it doesn’t feel wonderful to lean into his touch, and you can nearly pretend that he cherishes you. It almost puts you at ease—but you have already learned this man offers no comfort without exacting some impossible price for it later.

He settles farther into you with a low sound like a growl, rubbing the scruff of his beard against your face as though marking you. It is so primal, so far removed from anything civilized, and you…cannot suppress a sigh.

You should struggle and bite and kick—but in that moment, you just...don't want to.

“Hmm,” he grumbles, a sound from deep in his chest that you feel as much as hear. “My fierce little kitten. What am I to do with you?”

“Let me go?”

You don't know why you even ask. You already know his answer, but you just can't stop yourself. You are filled to the gills with the most agonizing mix of arousal and fear, nearly sick with the adrenaline racing through your veins.

This man will kill you just with the threat of waiting, it seems.

He answers by pressing his mouth to yours, taking your lips in a possessive and probing kiss that curls your toes. He pulls you closer, offering you a firm thigh between your legs to grind upon, and goddamn it that if lost in the moment, you don’t take him up on it. You feel him smile against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip.

It leaves you dizzy with desire, and he takes advantage of your stupefied state, suddenly flipping you on your stomach. You scream a little with surprise, finding yourself bent over the edge of the bed, his narrow hips flush against your backside. You try to struggle up on your elbows, but he pins you down with a large hand between your shoulder blades.

“Stay there,” he warns you. “Or I'll make you stay.”

Your heart is a thunderous timpani roll in your ears. With your face down in the soft sheets that smell so deliciously like him, you fear you know what’s coming next. Yet he takes his time about it, his gentle fingertips tracing your curves, down to the sensitive skin of the backs of your thighs. It makes you shudder—why does he have to be so gentle, while he’s being so terrible?

You feel his fingers bunch in your hem a moment before he wrenches your skirt up past your waist.

You cry out, writhing on instinct, but again he pins you with his torso moulded against your back. The warmth of him, and the weight of him…is a damnably delightful thing.

“My bad bad girl.” You feel his fingertips ghosting up your thigh, up to trace the line of your panties over your buttock, teasing just inside the elastic. Your hands fist in the sheets; you can hardly stand it. His light touch feels uneasily wonderful, and your fruitless squirming beneath him is equally fueled by desire and dread. You can feel his erection pressing into your flesh. It does not help the growing ache between your thighs. It's possible you arch into him for a moment, before you regain your wits again, grinding your teeth against every iota of tainted pleasure this man makes you feel.

He cups the round of your butt with a groan of approval, the breadth of his paw making you feel impossibly small.

“Such a perfect ass. Just made for spanking.”

A spear of cold fear pierces your insides.

“Please don't hit me.” You hate how utterly pathetic you sound, whimpering into the counterpane.

“No? You hit me first.”

“I...you kidnapped me!”

“Hmm.”

You are realizing that's not going to be a viable defense with this man.

“Just remember, kitten. Anything you can do.” He kisses the knob of your spine on the back of your neck, making you shudder. “I can do to you.” Another kiss, lower on your exposed spine, that absolutely fries the wires in your brain. “Ten times worse. Understood?”

“Yes.” You are proud that your voice sounds somewhat level, because all you want to do is sob into the sheets. It makes you so angry, that he can manipulate your body this way, and that the threat of his brutality merely seems to serve as an amuse bouche to your arousal. What the fuck is wrong with you?

“So. My darling doesn't like hitting. I don't either. Should we make a deal?”

“A deal?”

“You won't hit me, and I won't hit you.”

“Ok,” you sigh, relieved yet knowing this is not something that in a sane world, should win your gratitude. Little by little, he's tying your hands more, stealing your ability to fight back, catching you up in the web of his game.

His voice drops low as he warns you, “Don't break a deal with me, sweetheart. You won't like it.”

“I won't.” Your voice is so small, you hardly recognize it.

He makes a sound of approval from deep in his chest, running his hand down your back, almost like he’s petting you.

“But now we're back to square one. How am I to punish you?”

You make a squeak of surprise.

“But—”

“I’m going to have a black eye for at least a week. You owe me something.”

He kidnapped you, and you hit him trying to escape, so you owe him.

Class, welcome to Gaslighting 101.

Worse yet, you know it, but there’s not a goddammed thing you can do about it.

When you remain silent in your fury he further prompts, “Any suggestions?”

You cannot stop yourself from spitting, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He actually laughs at that, a low sound that tugs at your belly and makes you pulse between your thighs.

“I think I have an idea.”

His fingertips hook in the sides of your panties, drawing them down to bare your ass to him. “No…” You try to roll away, but he pins you again with his hips against the bed.

“Feeling shy now? I literally had my tongue inside your sweet little pussy a few days ago.” The reminder of this invokes a throbbing in your cunt that is not helpful at all.

“That was different…”

“Was it?”

A lump rises in your throat, and you barely manage to speak around it. “I trusted you then.”

“I’m still the same man, y/n.” He caresses the curve of your ass cheek, so gently. His fingertips stray agonizingly close to your weeping center, and you know you are a broken thing, for the flood of slick that answers him between your legs. You tremble as you fight not to strain towards him, like a flower seeks the sun. “I think you knew I was dangerous, even then.”

Your breath escapes in a shuddering sigh. He might be right about that…but the rest. There’s no way you could have even dreamed all the rest. You did not sign up for this. You’re going to have to keep reminding yourself of that, no matter how tenuous your reality becomes.

A small sound escapes you, as he bends to kiss the small of your back.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, y/n.” His lips stray lower to the globe of your ass, and you quiver in a mixture of anticipation and fear. His thumb rests at the crease where your thigh meets your butt cheek, so close to your center that you could scream. “A bruise for a bruise.”

“Wait—”

His teeth sink into your ass, hard, and you squeal.

“John!”

He holds you down, sucking mercilessly, leaving what you realize will be the worst hickey in the history of hickeys. It hurts, but a little voice inside your head sings out, it could be so much worse... and as it goes on...his mouth working on your flesh sort of feels good. You force yourself to remain still, gripping the sheets so hard that you feel like they should tear.

When at last he finishes with you, planting the gentlest kiss over the site he just utterly ravaged, you whimper with relief...and want. He continues his soft kisses, feather light, up your spine again, until his body is draped over yours once more, his erection in his pants fitting snugly in the crack of your ass.

Fuck.

You are a quivering mess beneath him, and there is a chaotic knot in your chest made of fear, desire, revulsion, and yearning. You are coiled tight as a spring, and you know, you just know that if he moved to take you like this you would absolutely let him, weeping with relief, even if you would loathe yourself for it later.

He kisses your cheek, ever so sweetly, as though he hadn’t just scared the bejeezus out of you and practically tried to take a bite out of you besides. “That’s my good girl. You took that so well.”

You can hardly believe the intoxicating flood of warmth that fills you at hearing those words. For the umpteenth time you wonder what the fuck is he doing to you?

You feel him start to move off of you, and before you can stop yourself you make a sound of protest, not wanting him to go.

“Shh. I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” He claps your behind just enough to make a sound—and a spear of longing to shoot through you.

Before you can complain about your deal of no hitting, he’s gone, leaving you cold and exposed upon the bed, wondering what the fuck just happened.

-By the time he returns you’ve righted yourself again, pulled up your big girl panties and got in a quick, semi-cathartic cry against the pillow that smells so wonderfully of him.

Dog is at John’s heels, and he is ever so happy to scarf down the remains of your sandwich that still littered the floor.

John scoops up the book that nearly took his head off. You can see his left eye is swelling angrily. He should have iced it immediately—but he had other things on his mind.

“Did it have to be War and Peace?” he grumbles with a frown.

“Seemed fitting.”

He snorts, though the look he pays you isn’t exactly kind. “Remind me to hide Anna Karenina,” he says, but just replaces it on the shelf, not even bothering to take it away from you.

You guess he won't fall for the same trick twice.

You're right about that.

After he wraps your ankle with ACE bandage and sits for a while with frozen peas on his eye, he installs a camera up in the corner of the room, right where you can see it.

“This will stay here until you prove to me you can be trusted with privacy.”

You frown, but say nothing in return.

-Later, you are resting together in bed, almost like a normal couple. At his demand you agreed to snuggle with him, settling in at his side. His arm is around your shoulders, your head on his chest. The scene is almost sweet, but he has the cold pack on his eye again, and you are elevating your ankle on a pillow.

What a pair you make.

He adjusts the compress on his eye, and you are taken aback after he so insisted on punishing you, he seems to find it funny, a huff of laugher escaping him. “Don't tell anyone you got one in on John Wick, they'll want to hire you.”

Though you should be cautious after everything that just happened, this piques your voracious curiosity once more.

“Were you a big deal, in your world?

“I was...good at my job.”

“How did you get into that?”

He juts his bottom jaw, the way you've noticed he does when he's agitated, or thinking about something he doesn’t like.

“I never really had a choice,” he answers finally. “I was an orphan, and the people who took me in trained me to be a killer.”

You blink at that, trying to decide if he's fucking with you or not.

“That's like, some Agent Salt shit.”

He tilts his head, not following.

“You know. Like, KGB Russian sleeper agents?”

He snorts. “Sure, I guess. I might have liked KGB training, compared to what we went through.”

Before you can stop yourself, you reach up to touch his face, stroking his beard with the blade of your thumb.

Jesus, you should not feel sorry for this man. But Goddammit. Something tells you that he's absolutely telling you the truth. Something about the way he delivers it, and the way he is…it tracks. He’s not trying to sound tough, or brag, or make up a good backstory about his past.

It just…is, and it breaks your heart in two.

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #bittersweet john wick imagine #yandere #yandere john wick #please enjoy your weekend dose 😂😂#😘😘😘😘😘😘😘

210 notes · View notes

spigobath · 5 months

Text

thinking about jay ferin and guilt. thinking about how the black sea to her is impossible decisions one after the other. thinking about how she blames herself for every bad thing that has happened. people keep saying like "oh imagine gill's horror of walking in on his best friend being killed", but like imagine the sinking feeling of dread in jay as she realized that she had done this, inadvertently. that because she didnt want to lose a leg to feed the queen, chip lost his heart.

and then she goes and fucks up her leg anyways, and it all seems so pointless, and death is not such a distant thing anymore. but they get through it. and she hides her pain away because it doesnt amount to what anyone else is feeling at the moment. because she can surely suffer a little but as retribution. and she doesnt tell anyone because of this guilt. (if i remember correctly, grizzly described her injury as this: it stretched to right under her ribs, afflicting the whole side of her body. but the worst of it was seemingly only up to her knee, where the spread was inching up. i know he described her leg as mangled, and i know he said that she could see the bone of her own knee)

and then after they leave, and she still hasnt done anything, they go to the navy stronghold. and we all know how that went. and jay once again blames herself for the whole thing. and jay probably feels so guilty that gillion just lost a pivotal aspect of himself with the tree conversation, and that he was skinned alive and basically died twice, and she probably feels so stupid for letting them split up at all.

and then i think about previous things. i think about how she shot gillion in the BLOCK, how she lied to them for half of their journey. i think about how much she loved them, and how bad she felt, and how guilty she was. to her, she is the worst of them all, someone pretending to be someone else. navy pretending to be pirate, friend pretending to be friend. and then i think of when they had to fight kira, how she misses everyone she used to have in her life, and how guilty she was over how she left. how she will never get over all that she has lost and all that she has to lose.

this isnt coherent at all. but jay ferin is a character built on guilt and retribution. she is vengeful in the way she revolts against authority without thinking, and only minds the consequences afterwards. she is just like the gun she wields, and she is much like the linger of smoke and the sting of recoil.

#jrwiblr #jay ferin #jrwi show #jrwi riptide #jrwi jay #jrwi gillion #gillion tidestrider #jrwi chip #fuck my gay ass life - jay ferin #i love her

316 notes · View notes

keysinthecouch · 4 months

Text

My favorite thing to think about is what if gill lost his tail trying to save a little kid.

Hear me out.

On the first island they all went to, maybe before zero. Gillion got into a fight with a monster. A child was in the way of the fight and in a pure moment of panic he grabbed the kid and turned to the side. And in that same moment, whatever he was fighting attacked him. It got his tail halfway off. When he got back to the ship, bleeding and stumbling, Chip and Jay freaked tf out. Jay tried to cure wounds it, failing. And so she cut it off. She still feels bad about. Chip had to help gill relearn to run and walk and keep his balance because without his tail it made it almost impossible

Anyway have a nice day everyone

( @lesbianchipbastard @eepyghost I feel like torturing you guys today)

#just roll with it #gillion tidestrider #jay ferin #why am i like this #:3 #jrwi #jrwi riptide #i love jay ferin #chip is bones #jrwi chip

70 notes · View notes

bellysoupset · 2 years

Note

I'm steadily falling in love with Jonah's character! I loved that Leo carsick fic where he was nervous about Jonah because he knew he'd get called out once Jonah noticed. That being said, I have a prompt for you! What if the team goes out for breakfast the day they have a long bus ride ahead of them, and as they start the journey, whatever Jonah ordered starts to give him awful indigestion. He feels horribly bloated, which eventually makes it impossible to properly muffle the painful burps that keep sneaking up on him. He of course gets called out by teammates for his double standards, and is pissed about it until one deep belch brings up his entire breakfast.

"Alright everyone," coach Eric all but yawned, pointing the bus, "get in."

It was late evening and they had just done a quick stop for a light dinner, after much much complaining from Vince and Ryan. Now most of them were too tired for all the ruckus and chatting that had been in the morning and they obeyed without a word, falling on their respective seats.

Jonah settled on the back, because nowadays Leo took his seat on the front in order to not get obnoxiously nauseous - not that it helped 100%, but it was better than nothing.

The problem with sitting on the back was Lucas and Vince's non stop bickering. Tonight, however, they were stuffed to the gills and quiet, or as quiet as they managed to be.

They were going to be driving into the night, so Jonah took his neck pillow out of his backpack and settled against the window.

"I don't think that's right," he heard Lucas mumbling to Vince, "they're not gonna kill off Tom, he's the main character."

So much for quiet.

Jonah frowned, but said nothing for a moment, hoping they'd take the hint and shut up. To add salt to the injury, not only he was sleepy and cranky, but his stomach felt stretched tight, making it difficult to breathe.

His annoyance grew as he overheard Vince go on a spiel about the main couple of their tv show. Couldn't they do this in the morning?

"Shut the fuck up," Jonah snapped at them, "some people want to sleep."

"We're being quiet!" Lucas cried out and Jonah glared at him.

"Not quiet enough!"

Both men grumbled and complained, but eventually shut up as Mikey too joined in Jonah's chorus of "just shut up dude"

Happy he had some peace and quiet, Jonah closed his eyes and settled back down. Now, however, he had no distraction from the pulsing in his stomach.

Literal pulsing, it felt like his belly was stuffed full and pulsing under his hand. He shifted on his seat, pressed the heel of his hand to his side and rubbed it in circles. In the half lit bus, no one could tell, or no one cared.

He winced as a sharp cramp hit him, then grimaced even more as a hot burp rolled out of his mouth. It burned its way up and made Jonah regret having the spicy chicken. Bad idea and he blamed Leo for that.

Jonah opened his eyes to glare at the front, at the general direction of his friend. Leo was curled up against the window, knocked out by meds and blissfully unaware he was being cursed at.

Jonah groaned as he felt his stomach start to churn. it was already bloated and pressing against his jeans, but he'd be damned before opening his pants in the crowded bus. The pants hurt, though, pressing against his belly and squeezing him right in the middle. He burped, loudly now and felt his cheeks burn.

"Gross" Lucas scoffed, while Vince joined in with:

"Some people are trying to sleep".

"Fuck off," Jonah scoffed, turning on his seat again and cradling his stomach. It was starting to feel really disgusting inside of it and the thought of his dinner came back, now powered by repulse.

He belched wetly, clamping a hand over his mouth and Vince kicked his seat.

"Shut. Up. Jon."

"Kick my seat again and I'm going to-" he cut his threat short with another large burp and now Mikey, who genuinely had been trying to sleep unlike Lucas and Vince - who were just assholes - joined in.

"Goddamit, Jonah, shut up. Your burps are disgusting."

"I'm not tryin-"

"I want to sleep," Lucas said cheekly and Jonah glared at him, then winced as a cramp made him want to curl up. He didn't curl up.

He tried to swallow down the burps or at least to let them out slowly under his breath, but it wasn't bringing him any relief. In fact, every little airy burp he shakily let out, tasted just like dinner and Jonah dizzily planted a sweaty hand to the bus window, trying to unlock it. it was jammed shut like all windows, because of the constant a/c they had.

His stomach gurgled omniously, loud and clear, and a hiccup wrecked through him. It made the contents in his gut slosh up and morphed into a burp at the end.

"Jonah, dude!" Mikey whined and Jon wanted to tell him to fuck off, but another hiccup sent him into a burping fit.

One, two - the third one got stuck in his chest and he heard Vince scoff, "finally"

Jonah had a hand firmly clamped over his mouth, but his jaw and head felt heavy... He gagged, then the stuck burp came up, loud, wet and carrying with it his dinner.

It sprayed between his lips, on the seat to his right and Jonah didn't have a second to breathe. He retched again, loudly, and more orange vomit joined the mess, covered his lap-

"Ah shit" he heard someone say, then the lights overhead were turned on, by either Lucas or Vince, while the other ran ahead to get the bus driver to stop.

His stomach was far from done and Jonah moaned, giving up on trying to hold it back, since he was already drenched in it. He seized with another gag and burped up more vomit, coughing as the chunks clung to his throat.

Finally the violent heaves tampered off, though the nausea didn't.

"Fuck, Jon" it was Leo's voice and he could've cried, because Leo was twenty times a better comfort than Vince or Lucas or any of the others.

"I don't feel well..." he groaned, pathetically, eyes still squeezed shut and breathing through his mouth. If he saw the mess, he knew he was going to hurl again.

"Yeah, no shit, man" Vince sounded guilty as he said it, planting a heavy hand on his shoulder, "we're stopping in a second, ok?"

Jonah's only answer was another deep belch and with it more watery puke, that covered the arm he had wrapped around his complaining stomach. It was still churning fiercely, nowhere near done.

"You're okay" Leo sighed, voice gentle like he was talking with a wounded pet, "try to breathe, Jon."

"Can't-" he choked up, gagging, "...sick."

Jonah felt, before he heard, the bus stop. The lack of movement helped, minimally. Helped the vertigo at least, if not the nausea.

Then, "oh hell no-"

"Get out of the way then"

And then a hand was grabbing his arm and throwing it over someone's neck, another arm coming to sneak around his waist as he was pulled up.

Jonah didn't dare open his eyes, he clamped his mouth shut and buried his face on the person's shoulder, as he was guided past the seats and down the steps, to the cool night air.

He sucked in the clean air greedily and opened his eyes, looking anywhere but his soiled shirt and pants. It was Lucas holding him up. Fuck, Jonah thought vaguely, but what he said was "gonna hurl on your shoes."

"I'll live" Lucas all but shrugged, the insufferable prick, "I'm sorry for being a dick earlier-"

"Ugh definitely gonna vomit now," Jonah scoffed. The last thing he wanted was a pity apology.

He heard as the other guys also left the bus, just in time to witness as he burped up another weak stream of vomit, covering the humid grass on the side of the road and splashing on the toes of Lucas' sneakers.

"He's gonna be dehydrated at this pace," Leo worried and Jonah blinked, blearily, at him.

"He is right here" he scoffed, throat hoarse, "I'll be fine. I'm fine."

Lucas snorted, "yeah, you're fine" he snickered, still holding him up, "where's the coach?"

"Talking with the driver" Vince answered, still sounding extremely guilty and holding a water bottle for Jon, as well as his bag in the other hand, "you need to change out of this mess."

He belched as he opened his mouth to agree, something wet and disgusting that had Vince and Leo jumping back, Lucas holding him a little tighter.

"Jonah?" Vince called, practically whined, causing him to groan.

"I'm fine-" his stomach gurgled angrily in response, but he ignored it, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Leo jumped to action, helping him strip it down, carefully avoiding getting the puke in his hands or Jonah's hair. Vince had fished out a shirt out of his bag, along with sweatpants.

Leo glared at Jonah's jeans, the zipper, the hem and the button were all covered in vomit. Just glancing at the mess made Jonah gag, which caused Lucas to scoff.

"I'll do it" he said, passing Jon's weight to Vince, the only other one who could hold him up with such ease, and then crouching down, going for the jeans.

Jonah's stomach of course chose this exact moment to gurgle, causing Lucas to pause as he opened the jeans, "are you gonna hurl? Because not on my hair, Jon, c'mon."

"Not-" he gulped the urge to gag, "jusst rush"

Lucas sighed as he finished pushing the ruined jeans down, rolling them up and using the dry parts to wipe the vomit from Jon's lower belly and the top of his boxers. The rough texture and the pressure, even if Luke was being extra delicate, pushed out a burp and dislodged a cramp.

"Fuck" Jonah whimpered, giving up on all dignity and cradling his puffy stomach, "hurts."

"Shit" he heard Vince whisper, sounding panicked, clearly triggered by Jonah curling up with the pain.

"I wanna lay down" he all but whined, so sick and tired of this night, "I'm done."

It seemed like it took forever. Cleaning the bus (hardly helped and he spent the next twenty minutes coughing up bile in a plastic bag), then stopping at a side of the road motel and finally being able to lie down.

Jonah was beyond lightheaded when he managed, still burping wetly, but quietly. He took a minute to realize it was Lucas sharing with him and not Leo.

"Whaa?" He tried to question, squeezing his eyes shut against the nausea. Lucas shrugged, handing him an already opened water bottle.

"I'm the best option" he explained and Jonah knew it was because he had taken care of his mom during the final stages of cancer and witnessed way worse than some indigestion nausea, but it didn't make it any less humiliating.

"Leave me alone"

"If you're well enough to be a dick, you're well enough to drink your water" Lucas scoffed and Jonah groaned. He was in for a long night

#mywriting #jonah banks #sickfic #emeto #Indigestion

71 notes · View notes

cherrywoodmaeg · 2 years

Text

Shortcut, Pt. 7

I've got to say, I'm blown away by your feedback! Thank you so much to everyone reading this, I hope you have a great day 🧡

An adjustment

Niphka took a step forward. The water clung to her feet like it didn’t want to let her go. Her eyes still needed to adjust, and she blinked a few times. After an eternity in the water, she needed a second to regain her balance. She could feel her legs and how they were much less muscular than her fishtail.

She slowly approached the shore and lowered herself to the ground. Without thinking why, she let her hands run over her naked calves, and went on to inspect her arms. Her scales were gone, as where all signs of gills and fins. Her body was clothed in white fabric. Leathery armour protected her arms and chest. Niphka noticed that the protective pieces still bore the scratches of battle. Her last battle.

A sound drew her back into the present. She squinted to see where it came from, and her eyes discovered Jon, who struggled to get on land without putting pressure on his bad leg.

She moved to sit on her knees and leaned forward. It was impossible to see if he looked at her when she extended her hand and scooped him out of the water. As Niphka held him in a loose fist, she felt him tremble.

“You’re not still afraid of me, are you?” she asked, half joking, half serious.

“It’s cold!” Jon snapped. “It’s cold and I’m shivering because I am drenched and you – you… you’re…”

“I am what?” Without wanting to, she tightened her grip.

He shook his head heavily.

“Please,” he stammered. “Please don’t hurt me.”

It was like someone had burnt her hand. As quickly as she could, she sat him back on the ground and rested her hands on her lap.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He sat in the sand, looking at her. She felt his eyes on her body, but she decided to give him a moment. Finally, she needed to break the silence.

“Look, Jon. I know that this is a lot for you. Maybe I shouldn’t have put all of this on you. But, I’ve been alone for so long, and I-… I am glad I got to meet you. I want to help you, I really do!” She sighed. “Things are so different than how they used to be. Everything is difficult.”

She pushed a strand of dark, coily hair aside and waited for his reaction. What she would give to know what he was thinking!

“It is a lot.” Jon’s voice was quiet. “I feel like I am trapped in some wild dream, and every time I expect to wake up, it just keeps going.”

He looked at her again.

“At least I’m not alone, right?”

She dared to smile again. “Right.”

Niphka made a move to pick him up again, but he raised his arm and called, “Stop!”

She drew back. “You can’t walk on your own.”

“I know, I know! But you can’t just… just grab me!”

That she understood. “Alright. I will ask for permission.”

“Thank you.”

If she wanted to earn his trust, Niphka thought, she had a lot to learn.

Jon was sure that if he weren’t already sitting, his knees would surely fail him any moment. His skin itched under the wet clothes clinging to it and the cold stung to his bone, especially in his still shoe-less feet.

He knew he should ask Niphka for help. But the events of the past hour had rattled his entire worldview, again. As he sat there, his physical state a representation of everything he’d gone through, his mind went through all the emotions he tried to suppress. Just when he thought he had arranged with his situation, Niphka had reshuffled the cards. Jon didn’t know what to believe anymore.

“I need to make a fire,” he stated quietly. From the corner of his eye, he saw her flinch. In a tired effort to apologize, he explained, “If I don’t dry my clothes, I’ll get a cold.”

She nodded and rose to her feet to search for wood. She was so tall, he couldn’t even see her entire form until she was a few steps away. Jon still shuddered at the memory of her large hands picking him up like nothing. On the island, there had always been some form of imagined fence between them – he was on land, she remained in the water. Now that that fence was broken down, his instincts begged him to get away from the giant.

This impression only strengthened when she came back. Her large form approached him and he felt every muscle in his body tense up.

She said she won’t grab you again. It’s just Niphka. It’s just Niphka.

She dropped a pile of dead branches into the sand. “Here.” Then she moved back, but stayed close enough to talk to him.

“Do your matched still work?”

Jon nodded. “They’re waterproof.”

The white wood burnt quickly. Jon took off his coat. He had cut his shirt to pieces to bandage his ankle, so he moved closer to the fire to stay warm. He bit his cheek as he continued to undress. Partly because of the pain, and partly because these weren’t exactly private circumstances.

Niphka cleared her throat. “Wait,” she said, “take this.” She ripped a piece off her toga-like dress and handed it to Jon.

“Thank you.” He took it and tried to look her in the eye.

The fire illuminated her face. Her skin was a rich brown and her hair reached her shoulder in dozens of curls. If they had met as two humans, ... well, who knew.

He felt the colour rush to his face. Hastily, Jon wrapped himself in the white fabric.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, “Maybe we should stay here for the night. We can get some rest, I can let my clothes dry for a while and we head North in the morning.”

“As you want.”

She moved a bit further away and laid down on her side, head resting on her arms. Jon noticed that she didn’t let the fire out of her sight for one second. It was a bizarre thought that someone so gigantic would fear a little campfire. Jon gave her a smile.

“I’ll keep watch, don’t worry.”

Her eyes darted to him. She looked like she was going to protest, but then she returned the smile.

“Thank you.”

And she added, “I won’t worry.” and held eye contact for a moment.

Niphka closed her eyes.

Jon stared into the flame, lost in thought, until he eventually fell asleep.

Part 6 < Part 7 > Part 8

#g/t #g/t writing #g/t story #original characters #giant/tiny #size difference #shortcut g/t #sfw g/t #seriously you're all making me cry

15 notes · View notes

hirokiro · 1 year

Text

pt 9 Princesses, Dragons, and Elves oh my!

Basically the same argument broke out all over again. Gill listened to Lana try to reason with Glen and she seemed to do marginally better. Women had such a way with words when it came to pulling on the heart-strings. If Glen had a heart.

“Let me put it this way,” Lana was pacing around at this point, back and forth in front of Gill as if protecting him instinctually, “You would hate to lose me and Gill, right? If I died it would be terrible to you, right?”

Glen complained, “This isn’t the-”

“It’s exactly the same.” Lana pushed, “Glen, think about other people’s feelings besides your own. You worried about Gill when you caused that panic attack and when he passed out. You told me yourself when he wasn’t talking to us you wanted to ask him if he was okay. You were worried. Now imagine someone else feeling that same worry, only they’re worried their daughter has been eaten or worse, and they want her back and safe. Just like you wanted Gill well again, right?”

“Mmmguess so…” Glen reluctantly yielded a little, “He was scaring me.”

Gill wanted to find some humor in the situation but he was busy fighting panic and trying not to let the distressing continuation of his and Glen’s argument feed into the struggle to calm down.

“So you see. And I know you see,” Lana reiterated, “I have to go see my family. And honestly, right now, I’m really missing them, Glen. I need to see them.”

Glen raked the ground a couple times, “But would you come back?” he challenged, clearly not believing it, “Once you’ve told them and grieved and all that?”

Lana didn’t reply immediately, looking away sadly, “I would, Glen. I would if it were up to me. But I don’t know if it would be possible. This is an unusual situation.”

“See? Exactly!” Glen grumbled, “You would go away and not come back! I bet even if you promised, you wouldn’t! They’d all stop you and you’d make excuses!”

Lana didn’t reply. She and Gill knew why it might be impossible for her to come back even if they tried to negotiate with the king, find some middle ground. It might happen but it also might not. Lana knew her father better than he did. There was no explaining to Glen that he would have to accept whatever the outcome and quit being selfish.

Glen rumbled irritably, the ground trembling as Gill got control of himself, feeling small and exposed after this second panicky moment. It was less severe but as always it left him feeling like a cowardly idiot who was a pathetic excuse of a person.

“... I… I’d come back.” he managed to speak up faintly.

“Mm?” Glen stopped the rumbling and lowered his head, “What was that?”

Gill took another shaky breath, willing himself to repeat it more loudly, “I’d come back, Glen. Or even… If… if you don’t trust my word then just… put me somewhere I can’t escape and after you take Lana back, if you do, I’ll still be here for you.”

The dragon blinked, and he felt a funny stirring in his stomach. That was kind of strange how Gill put it. But the elf was yet again trying to compromise with him, and he didn’t think he liked it as much as the arguing. When they argued he knew he was in the right, and seeing Gill angry was funny. When this little elf gave in and tried to appease him, he felt sort of bad about it. Fighters like Gill were usually very proud. Proud of their strength like a dragon was proud of theirs. The elf’s humility was just so… so… eef! It made Glen so uncomfortabllllllle!

Gill was weird. He was a weird, unnatural little man and Glen only wanted him all the more and now he was feeling bad for not trusting this little elf who was trying so hard to win this fight in any way other than by tooth and sword.

Mmmmmmgh… he knew if he asked it of Gill, the elf would agree to dying in order for Lana to go home. He knew it deep down that the elf was sincere. Desperate enough to do anything.

“Hmmmff…” he looked up and away, tail thrashing irritably as he contemplated and mulled things over. Everything Gill had gone through to get here. Risking his life in the swamps, even weathering an attack that left him wounded enough that he said he was unlikely to put up much of a fight anyway if it came to it. Practically dead on his feet from lack of sleep. And still he had approached the dragon rather than wait to recover at least. Anything to get to Lana sooner and find out if she was alright.

They were… probably right. It just wasn’t fair! Having to go back to sleepless nights when he thought of Lana as his, and a friend who cared! The first person who got along with him and he didn’t feel the need to make her fear him. Someone different and special to him.

“Mmm…” Nostrils flared as more smoke burst from them, “Fine… Fine. After everything you’ve gone through, Gill, and this hard news about your brother, Lana… It’s only right. This is… bigger than my needs.”

He looked down to see Lana had brightened up, smiling, “Thank you Glen!” she exclaimed gratefully, relief and happiness on her face as she clasped her hands.

But Gill still sat, head bowed where Glen couldn’t see his face, know what he was thinking. His hand was still clutching his shirt, he was still breathing laboriously. It had to have cost a lot to speak up.

Hnnnnnn, guilt!

“Let’s just… give it a little time and figure out how to do this.” Glen added, “I know Gill, you said you wanted to be there to break the news and be with them, and all that. It would’ve been easiest to fly you both in but I can’t do that.”

To his surprise Gill did look up, a confused expression on his face.

“You mean.. You’d let me go back?” Gill asked, eyes searching.

“Well. I-” On the spot, Glen scratched the side of his head, looking to one side. He hadn’t meant to talk about that possibility yet. “Well. I guess I would.” he admitted in the end, “Just, you know. Test your honesty, you know. I could find you anyway if you didn’t come back.”

Not really the truth, and he was pretty sure Gill thought the same. Gill was a survivalist, he would know how to disappear where Glen couldn’t find him.

“I appreciate the faith,” Gill replied, “Truly. It means a lot.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Glen added, trying to save face, not seem like a softy, “It’s not like I trust you or anything. But I won’t know your worth until you’ve proven it to me.”

Gill chuckled a little, “That’s true. But really, you are truly magnanimous to let us go. I know this is very hard for you, and I can’t begin to show my gratitude.”

“Hmmm…” Glen wasn’t exactly certain what that meant but it must be related to Magnificent. And he liked that, “Flattery will get you nowhere.” he tried to look aloof.

But Gill only laughed weakly and stood, slowly, “Alright, well, I’m going to now go walk like I meant to, and we’ll come back to things. I have to clear my head and… yeah…”

Glen raked at the ground nervously, “Should you be walking around so soon?”

He didn’t like how Gill waved him off.

“I’ll be alright. It’ll help me calm down. And… like before,” Gill hesitated, not meeting anyone’s eyes, “Let’s just pretend it never happened and not dwell on it or anything. I don’t want to think about it and I don’t… really want to see sympathy. Just pretend it never happened, please.”

“Pretend what never happened?” Lana asked with an innocent expression.

Gill snapped his fingers and pointed at her, “Exactly.” he said with a little more cheer before taking off.

“Oh, but– alright…” Glen watched him go, feeling the want to nab him and bring him close. He didn’t want Gill out of sight right after another one of those panic things happened. Oooh that boy was so fragile! He needed to stay right here!

This was going to be hard, letting them go. Gill had been trying to protect Lana all this time but who would protect him? What if something hap-?

“So,” Lana looked back up, hands on her hips, “Got some kind of plan for how we get back? Round up some horses?” she joked.

“Mnnnn… Not really. And they’d probably die of fright,” Glen sighed, “It wouldn’t work to just fly you and make Gill go the long way back. It kind of… well, doesn’t seem like a point in letting him go if he has to take all that time and you’ve already told everyone and he just… Is he okay?”

Lana blinked, “I… I don’t know, Glen,” she replied doubtfully, “I heard you guys shouting and then all of sudden you were apologizing… and Gill was sitting there. I don’t know. It’s… were you going to fly?”

“I really wasn’t.” Glen assured her, “I just wanted to shake him a little. A little.” he reiterated, “I was being careful in that regard. I didn’t realize he might think I would just because I was angry…”

Lana sighed and began to walk stiffly about. She noted the Elf’s pack.

“He said he left some stuff for you to eat,” Glen commented helpfully.

“Oh, that was kind of him,” she didn’t immediately look, “Glen…” she glanced back up, “You don’t think… You know… He might actually… also be afraid of dragons. You think? Similar to his flying problem?”

Glen shrugged, “No, I think the opposite. He’s not all that afraid. He told me he’s used to dragons, and probably too bold around them. He’s not afraid. He was just afraid of my anger in the moment. Not me as a creature. Not like that. Cautious and all that. Healthy amount of respect for the danger.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced and Glen snorted a little, annoyed, “He said he had some good experiences too, so it's not like all he’s known is trouble with us as a species. There’s just been some very unfortunate coincidences going on over time.”

“It certainly seems that way.”

(And been stuck again. Been uploading in inconsistent bursts even with already having this as far as it is, and dunno. Might redo the last few paragraphs, rework. Am tired.)

#fantasy #dragon #dragons #princess #princesses #hero #elf #elves #traveler #magic #dragonsprincesseselves #knight #knights #rescue

3 notes · View notes

adamwatchesmovies · 2 years

Text

Return to Oz (1985)

Return to Oz doesn't even approach the quality of the 1939 classic that it’s sorta, kinda, but not really a sequel to (and not only because this is a Disney film, not a Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer production). It’s a flawed picture, but calling it bad isn’t right. The further along it gets, the more enjoyable it becomes.

Six months after returning home from the Land of Oz, Dorothy Gale (Fairuza Balk) worries her Aunt Em and Uncle Henry. Suffering from insomnia and constantly referring to a land that doesn’t exist, she's sent to undergo electro-shock therapy. Suddenly, Dorothy is transported once again to Oz, only to find its people in desperate need of a hero.

This 1985 picture starts on the wrong foot. It's too frightening and intense for its young target audience. Then, further trauma as we learn that the Emerald City has been destroyed and all its inhabitants (including the Tin Woodman and Cowardly Lion) have been turned to stone by the Nome King. You'll also find the change from musical to non-musical jarring. To be fair, it would’ve been hard, perhaps even impossible to match the immortal songs of the Judy Garland classic so I guess writers Walter Murch (who also directs) and Gill Dennis opted not to even try. Technically, this film is not a direct sequel to the classic so this last point might be a nitpick… but "Return to Oz" wants to have it both ways. It wants to do its own thing... while takes several cues from the original film. It's as if its hoping you’ll forget all but the broadest details of Dorothy's last adventure.

We meet several new friends on Dorothy's quest to save Oz: a mechanical man named Tik-Tok (voiced by Sean Barrett), the scarecrow-like Jack Pumpkinhead (Brian Henson), the moose-like Gump (voiced by Lyle Conway), and a chicken originally from her Aunt and Uncle’s farm named Billina (Denise Bryer). They all look amazing; one thing you cannot criticize this film for is its look, costumes, art director and puppetry. They also have a lot of charm and their share of good moments but why introduce new characters at all? Whether these characters are carbon copies of Dorothy’s old band in the original work by L. Frank Baum is irrelevant. They're all so similar this would have been a better film if we'd gotten more of what we loved the first time we travelled to Oz instead of these replacements.

It takes a lot to get up that hill, but the climb is worth it when you consider what Return to Oz does well. The characters may be overly familiar, but they look like dynamite and all of their unique abilities are well-used. It wins you back, and then we get to the conclusion, which is spectacular. Throughout the film, we see the Nome King’s minions, whose look is so distinct, so unique I’m shocked we haven’t seen them ripped off or imitated elsewhere. It all builds to an intelligent, exciting climax that satisfies. The special effects hold up remarkably well and considering how much it improves as it goes along, you'll be disappointed to hear no third chapter ever materialized.

Return to Oz is too frightening and intense for young children and if you’re going to travel to Oz with them, the Judy Garland pic is a far better choice. Ultimately, I don’t see it holding the same beloved spot in people’s hearts as the similar-feeling The NeverEnding Story or even Labyrinth. It’s more of a curiosity than anything, but there are some that will latch onto it and because of its spectacular visuals, it’s worth taking a chance to see if you’ll be joining the cult following. (On DVD, February 24, 2018)

#Return to Oz #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #Wizard of Oz #Walter Murch #Gill Dennis #L. Frank Baum #Nicol Williamson #Jean Marsh #Piper Laurie #Fairuza Balk #1985 movies #1985 films

1 note · View note

janshu · 3 years

Text

In The Shallows...Part One.

Summary: @hanji-is-life more merman!Bakugo and so I shall provide! I was hoping to get this out much earlier, back in may because MerMay but better late than never I suppose! You, a marine biologist, take a scuba dive to see the local fauna off coast and you find more than you ever could've bargained for...

Word Count: 1.5.

Warnings: None but minor curses, mentions of the ocean, an illusion of drowning. Viewer discretion is advised at least.

How did you manage this?

You hadn't walked on the beach, much less roll around in the coarse substance. So how did it manage to get into your pockets? This was a new jacket so how?

A short walk from the parking garage to the pier was all it was, no beach travel involved yet it had wormed its way into your pockets, in between your toes and nearly everywhere else.

Your team chuckles at your discomfort finding your squirming the funniest thing on the planet as they loaded up the sizable vessel for the day on the water. For the past several weeks you had been cooped up in a lab studying the samples others brought to you but now you were given the green light to head out into the field yourself. Your goal for the day was to gather samples, check on the status of the coral nursery, and a checklist of other menial tasks. A full plate all things considered, much better than getting a migraine staring through a microscope at sea water until you either give up or get sent home.

Waves battered against the hull of the boat while you and your fellow colleagues suit up in scuba gear. The goal wasn't to go to the bottom of the ocean, far from it, fifteen meters was the maximum for today so simple snorkeling hear wouldn't cut it. You didn't get your diving certifications to be stuck in a lab. The salt spray refreshing against your skin for the few seconds it was vulnerable while you changed from your outfit into the designated wetsuit. Not the full suit that covered your body from head-to-toe, just a body one to keep your core warm when your swimsuit didn't offer much protection.

The boat came to a stop right around where the GPS locator dinged where the nursery site was and the captain gave everyone a thumbs up as you and your fellows attached their fins, tanks, SPG's and all the other necessary equipment. One-by-one each of them held their regulators to their mouths and fell back into the blue ocean below until it was your own, to which you received a wink instead while everything turned upside down.

Ten, twenty, thirty, a hundred. Regardless of how many dives you've had you'll never get over the beauty of the reefs. Each time serving something new, change was ever present in your line of work. Never seeing the same specimens twice to witnessing a rare species and everything in between. The sunshine overhead casting glittering ripples on the sandy floor, catching your eye on the schools of fish that swam by as their scales gleamed in different patterns. This was the closest feeling you had ever come to your childhood dream of becoming a mermaid. When you wished on your birthday candles and shooting stars to holding your breath underneath tub water in hopes gills would magically appear. That's what started this career. Maybe it was a long forgotten portion of your evolved brain from life's time in the ocean but you felt at home, a familiar sense of belonging that you didn't have on dry land. This was where you were meant to be but sadly your wishes had never come true and you were cursed to remain a land-dwelling mammal.

The beeping in your ears ripped you from your fantastical daydreams to remind you of the harsh reality. This is as close as you were going to get but that wasn't so bad, it was better having a little than nothing at all. Looking at the gauge meter it showed that you have roughly an hour left of oxygen which meant you had been in the water for an hour already. How time flies when you're having fun, absorbed in your daydreams, and checking on coral and taking samples.

"Hey, could we switch our tanks out without getting oxygen narcosis or are we screwed in that department?" Your voice came over the radio built in the full face masks everyone in the diving team used no doubt scaring those who were lost in thought as you just were.

"Y/N...do you really want to stay out here longer? Shitting Christ, you should be glad you're out here in the first place!" The captain's voice responded from the safety of the boat. "Now get your asses back up here n' we'll head on ba-...what was that?"

"What was what?"

A chorus of responses chimed in immediately after, some crackling from the distance they were from the source and others sounding as if they were a foot away.

"Nothing, never mind, must've been a Manta Ray. Forget about it. Just get your shit and come back, I'm gettin' hungry and its close to lunchtime so hurry up." The static cut off as he put down the radio and looked out into the churning ocean. The massive shadow he had just seen passing by the boat putting him on alert, he didn't want to witness any reef shark's feeding frenzy.

"We can come back tomorrow, Y/N. Nothing's stopping us from that, right?" Another voice, one of your favorite colleagues suggested. That was right, you were there and your boss hadn't explicitly said that this was a one time thing. Another visit would do some good to see if the biometrics have changed in a span of twenty-four hours.

"Alright, okay, we'll come back later for a differential test."

The group had a collective sigh of relief. You were notorious for loving the ocean to such a degree you'd do anything to stay in a while longer, they were all content with leaving now and coming back later if it meant they wouldn't see your sad pouting all the way back to the van. Picking up their equipment and vials everyone began swimming back to the boat now most of them making small talk and discussing their plans for the weekend while you were once again lost in your thoughts.

Something impossibly dark darted through your vision. Blocking out the beautiful view of the turquoise water and colorful life like an angry, ominous storm cloud. A blanket of blindness shrouding all light for a moment but it felt like an eternity as dread sunk in the pit of your stomach, anchoring you to the spot. The warm water now felt cold, goosebumps running up your bare arms and thighs like pinpricks. The heart that had been so calm in the home of your ribcage now pushing adrenaline through your bloodstream, adjusting to a state you weren't acting on. Fear. That wasn't a Manta Ray or a comically large Stingray that was something else entirely. A predator that crashed against the fragile cage of safety, security and believing you were untouchable in shallow depths.

You were reminded of the psychologically scarring and irrational fear of one's ankles being grabbed particularly in the ocean by a shark, the part of your lizard brain firing signals all across your synapses to detach the leg. If only. A fair trade, being left alone at the price of a limb but unfortunately humans couldn't detach or regrow whatever they lost.

That fear was horrifically evoked when something far more firm than a limp leaf of seaweed wrapped around your ankle. Slimey, cold as death and tipped with five sharp points. Reminiscent of a hand, a very large hand. Expanding across your bare skin like a calloused cuff that threatened to break the skin, sink into the meat and tear your foot off entirely. However, that didn't seem to be happening. No cloud of your own blood instead the safety of the boat got further and further away, turning into a speck barely seen in the shallow water.

"Wait, wait no! What the fuck?! Let go! What the hell?" When your brain managed to get over its fear and shock of the situation your fight-or-flight instincts kicked into high gear and your body began to thrash around against the hold. If it was a shark hitting it in the snout and eyes was imperative to get it to release but what if it wasn't? What else could possibly have your leg in its grip with a goal of pulling you away from the boat?

A flurry of indistinguishable voices and noises came over the radio. From yelps, screams and to curses but the thudding in your ears and the furious splashes drowned them all out, everything became topsy turvy, what was the bottom of the ocean and what was the surface became an abstract concept. The primal urge to escape was ripped away when the respirator giving you oxygen was unceremoniously and harshly ripped from your mouth, the hand that had done it orange and black. The water was salty, like you had dumped an entire container of table salt into your mouth and you washed it down with a sip of water. It was invasive, slipping down your throat into your lungs as they tried to gulp air instead. The more you inhaled the harder it was to move. Your limbs becoming as heavy as cement bricks. Unconsciousness began to consume everything, your body down to your mind. The eerie sensation of falling was the last thing before everything faded to black...

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mer!au #merman!au #merman!bakugo #tw:discretion is advised #tw:fear #tw:ocean #tw:water #tw:scary situation

234 notes · View notes

seikyoko · 3 years

Text

Johnny Gill appreciation post

There’s plenty of issues I have with DGM Hallow, people other than me have talked about it and honestly I don’t feel like rereading the manga AND rewatching Hallow to explain all my dissatisfaction with it, but whatever, they wanted to make it short enough for it to be 14 episodes, it’s difficult to make it 100% faithful, whatever, I understand, even though I’m sad the zombie arc and the funny part of the phantom G arc were not in here, I understand, I’m not going to nitpick even the little things.

BUT WHY THE HELL would they on purpose take out the Johnny content in such an outrageous manner? like at the very beginning, where Johnny is the one who notice that polite speech doesn’t suit “Allen” and that when he doesn’t pay attention, he slip to more casual speech. It was instead replaced by.. Lavi, and while yeah good to give more Lavi content,

It was annoying to steal another character’s very rare screentime, and besides, it was impossible for Lavi to do this interaction, even if Johnny didn’t in the manga. Look, that happened after the 14th reveal, Bookman forbade him from getting too involved with “Allen”, because it was going to be his downfall if he involved himself that much in the war, and Lavi heeded his advice, you never see Lavi & “Allen” interacting again after the 14th reveal (though with the recent events of “Allen” going to the campbell mansion and is going to meet bookman and everything even if Lavi’s not with bookman that’s probably going to change), and that interaction was way more important than “woah bro no need to be so formal” with the mana mask revelation and Red’s actual personality and everything, and you know it’s relevant to that because it happens in the same episode, and in the manga very few chapters after.

And also the whole “the regret won’t let me die in peace” between Johnny & Kanda, instead.. happens between Marie & Kanda & Lenalee, and the anime scene absolutely sucks, the sacrifice Kanda is making doesn’t really hit you and it comes off as the dbz “past evil dude/asshole is now helping the protagonist”.

Look, he got better after the alma karma arc, and he love and trusts Lenalee & Marie a lot, but I find it kinda weird Kanda would volunteer such personal information on his feelings that easily with virtually no reason to (though I’m no Kanda expert), the interaction is just Lenalee who wasn’t involved in the Alma arc weirdly insisting on prying, after Kanda already accepted the innocence and can’t take it back anymore and Kanda pouring his heart out just like that , which, weird, because when Lenalee say “don’t you were already trapped in the order more than all of us and the order harmed you so much”, his reaction is to change the subject by successfully picking a fight with most people on the room (like Komui and Bak at least) by drinking it out of Lenalee’s hands.

It doesn’t even work as real Lenalee screentime because you can tell she was a mouthpiece to make Kanda say it before Hallow end/say it to someone other than Johnny, it wasn’t a real Kanda & Lenalee interaction

In the manga it was after Johnny and Kanda (who already bonded and came to care about each other quite a lot during their roadtrip/travelling around), who are both people who are pretty much risking everything to find and help “Allen”, exited the pub and Johnny showed that he was a ride or die friend, reminding Kanda of Alma, likely the first time he thought of his past without feeling pain (like “Allen” comparing the orphanage director to Mana), then Johnny ask why Kanda did it, whether Kanda even answered or not, it was going to be nowhere as personal as how it ended up being, then that akuma snatched Johnny, and it very much stated “it’s Kanda yuu” at the beginning, showing that it was a speech personally aimed at Kanda, rather than a generic exorcist, saying that he was an absolute fool to come back, that he had very very little left to live, and he should’ve spent his last moments in peace, and that he chose hell, and he doesn’t go “what are you talking about ?” or deny it, showing that yeah, he does have little left to live and he most probably did choose hell.

Then Johnny goes “really Kanda... why ?” then go silent, so Johnny wasn’t going to badger him on it, then Kanda goes on to say his reasons (and yeah Johnny works better because he have more informations about the Alma thing than Lenalee had, since Kanda most likely almost never talked about it, and the scientists there were probably more informed than the exorcists after the facts and Kanda most likely didn’t tell her much, if anything really, I mean the dude can’t even stand when you say his first name just because it reminds him of that time, and Johnny did witness Kanda stab “Allen” and the whole shitshow, he’s more involved I mean).

AND THE “I was about to say sorry and then I stopped myself, thank you kanda, thank you, than..” WAS SO TOUCHING

end rant about “the manga is better !!”

And they’re not only making these moments worse, but they’re shooting themselves on the foot, because Johnny is a vital character to the “searching for Allen Walker” arc. and they keep down playing his worth as a character and his bond with “Allen”.

Johnny dropped everything for “Allen”, he loved his job as a scientist and everyone in the order, and the whole thing was risky as hell, and he did it anyway (he had no guarantee of quitting the order safely, and he wouldn’t have without Kanda, he had no guarantee of finding “Allen”, he had no guarantee the Noah or the 14th wouldn’t kill him immediately and when he first decided it he didn’t know Kanda would be around so doubly gutsy), and the love is very clearly mutual with how badly “Allen” freaked out at thinking Nea killed Johnny and that heart warming hug when he exited the wheat field and how desperately he wanted Johnny to be okay when the earl attacked and Nea took over, and you can tell it’s because Johnny mattered to him a lot instead of a general kindness thing because, really, the whole TOWN/CITY was in danger from the Millenium earl being around and homicidal, and last but certainly not least, JOHNNY’S DECLARATION OF FRIENDSHIP which really mattered to “Allen” (It was the most flustered he’s ever been in the whole manga).

And it mattered in the end ! it changed everything ! Kanda wouldn’t have found “Allen” without Johnny’s plan. and “Allen” would be literally dead, erased, not from this world anymore if it wasn’t for Johnny.

Look, unlike all the other times Nea took over, the last one was pretty bad, in fact it should have been impossible for Allen Walker to ever open his eyes again, his soul was done for, he was technically dead.

But the power of people’s bond is probably the most powerful thing in DGM verse, so powerful that it can even do the impossible, like bringing back the dead.

Cross, Tyki and Link weren’t going to do that because of their allegiances, Road can’t maintain her form, even if Mana was going to choose “Allen” over Nea, he is very much amnesic, it wouldn’t have occured to Kanda and most of the order to try that, because it was very obviously the 14th, and Kanda doesn’t even call “Allen” by his name anyway, they’d have jumped straight to trying to defeat him or try another method to bring “Allen” back, if Apocryphos could still bring him back his way, he’d have merged with “Allen” and “Allen” as we know him would be no more.

Yeah, pretty sure “Allen” would be no more, and it wasn’t a case of right place/right moment or anything, it was because Johnny and “Allen” loved each other (platonically, I shouldn’t have to precise that but here we are) and it shook reality in ways usually only the earl take advantage of.

Also you imagine the amount of mental badassness it would take to take your friend, and physically try to carry him away while he’s the target of the earl who is looking extremely deranged and is being really violent ?

Also he prevents Kanda from using violence against “Allen” who was in pretty bad shape, and that with Tiedoll’s speech help him find the guts to face “Allen” eye to eye and a lot of what ensued after

Don’t ever underestimate Johnny’s importance to the story.

Yet here he’ll always be a barely relevant side character to the anime (well at least Hallow I refuse to watch the 2006 anime and check if his earlier moments were done justice), and for what reason ? because he’s not good-looking/hot, and because he’s not physically powerful or badass in a conventional way.

That’s.. the end to my salt I think

#Johnny Gill #dgm spoilers #dgm #dgm meta #Allen Walker #Kanda Yuu #Allen&Johnny #Johnny&Kanda #Did I say I love Johnny #Well I love him #my meta

19 notes · View notes

prismartist · 3 years

Text

Haul Away Jay

Fandom: Just Roll With It (Riptide)

Words: 3175

CW: implied/referenced character death

Relationships: Chip & Jay Ferin & Gillion Tidestrider

Summary: Jay is bored. Very, very bored. So, understandably, she tries to find a way to entertain herself.

She wasn't quite expecting the entertainment to come in the form of a song and dance, or that the other two would be roped into it.

None of them are complaining, though.

A/N: @tokencishetchip idk if you remember but you asked to be tagged for this a little while back !! here's the albatrio having fun with a sea shanty :D

Ao3

– – –

If there was anything that Jay Ferin knew as she leaned on the railing of the Albatross one peaceful day, watching the sun slowly set beyond the horizon, it’s that she was unmistakably, undoubtedly, incredibly, and painfully, bored.

Maybe it was the juxtaposition of the current situation to cursed islands, cursed casinos, or crewmates being dumbasses (well, that wasn't really a curse, but it sure felt like one sometimes), but standing on a boat in the middle of an endless calm sea under an endless calm sky wasn’t the most exciting event in the world.

Jay let out a sigh that floated out onto the indifferent blue water. She heard Gillion shout something from atop the crow’s nest, and Chip shouting back in turn as he walked down from the helm and started lighting the lamps. It was nice to see the two working in harmony.

Old man Earl was nowhere to be seen, probably in the kitchen making dinner and more orange juice. Jay was looking forward to that the most right now. She wasn’t sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

Well, she thought as she redirected her attention back to the ocean, if only they could find the adventure they all hoped for.

Her mind drifted in an attempt to entertain herself, going back to her days in the tavern. She had spent hours there working her butt off for loud, gruff soldiers, laying down in bed afterwards and thinking that her aching bones and five hours of sleep weren’t worth it. Over time she had learned to ignore the exhaustion, but compared to the adrenaline-inducing fights and rewarding victories she experienced now, Jay didn’t miss it.

Suddenly, a melody started to creep into her mind, a tune that she didn’t expect to hear in a long while. While tied to the memory of the tavern, the feeling the song settled in her is calm, comforting even. Jay closed her eyes, allowing herself to listen to it.

Apple sang serenely as she sat on the crow’s nest, and her chirps melded into the melody that Jay now recognized.

It was an old sea shanty, one that Jay often heard from the navy soldiers that frequented the tavern. She recalled memories of drunk men singing joyously, unprofessional in their performance, as if they were celebrating being freed from their ruthless job even for a night. Sometimes though, the way they would sing would come out soft and genuine as they sat in relative sobriety after a hard-fought battle, reflecting as the first few hours of the dawn crept up behind them and the orange rays shone on the mournful men. Jay would look on, almost in awe, unable to believe these were the same people who maimed and killed and imprisoned.

Jay hummed the beginning of the tune to the best of her abilities, and did not notice Chip cast a curious glance at her. She faltered as she lost the words, struggling to remember.

How did it go again…?

Oh. Right.

“Oh maiden, oh maiden, the love to I,” Jay sang softly. “I adore the shimmer, the shimmer, the shine in your eyes.”

She smiled and started to continue, but was cut off suddenly by the sound of Chip’s voice. Her eyes flew open and she turned in his direction, having half a mind to snap at him, but stopped upon realizing what exactly he was saying.

Or, rather, singing.

“It enamours, enamours, thy light to my life.” Chip was as surprised as Jay, eyes wide as he continued easily as if by instinct. His voice was surprisingly smooth and not all that bad. “Thy touch, carries, it carries, my soul to the sky.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, processing what had just happened.

Jay tilted her head, and spoke, “How do you-”

“I-it’s a song, I– the Black Rose Pirates used to sing it all the time.” Chip saw a small flash of a memory, of fireflies fluttering around in hanging terrariums, of voices chanting the same song as Chip joined in. He gestured a bit wildly, as if he was trying to swat away the image. “You?”

“I heard it in the tavern a lot.” Jay chuckled, a little in disbelief. “I guess it’s more popular than I thought.”

Chip vaguely remembered being lifted into the air by a laughing Arlind, teasing him for messing up a line, the golden glow overhead. “I guess so-”

“And my love! I swear in the sun and the rain!” The booming voice of Gillion Tidestrider rang down, causing Chip and Jay to look up and see the Triton slide down the pole, landing with a flourish. He straightened and completed the verse in a perfect baritone. “That someday, our hands will intertwine once again.”

Gillion grinned at the other two’s astonished faces. “That's an oversea song, is it not? My sister taught it to me. I much enjoy it as well.”

Chip turned to Jay. “So definitely more popular than you thought,” he said.

“Yeah,” Jay muttered, feeling a grin grow on her face. “A little different in some places, but yeah.”

She found herself tapping her fingers against the boat to the beat of the shanty and humming the post-verse interlude. Gill and Chip noticed as well, and their eyes trained on her, silently assigning her the role of the shantyman.

Jay tensed up upon noticing. She’s not used to performing, especially in front of an audience (could you call two people an audience?). It’s far from one of her strong suits.

But after a moment of contemplation, she eventually decided that, fuck it, it’s time to sing.

They started this ballad, they might as well finish it.

“Oh damsel, oh damsel, my heart belongs to thee.” Her voice cracked a bit on the high note, which Chip snickered at, but Jay merely shot him a dirty look and continued. “If you are troubled, so troubled, you must only call on me.”

“And though it rages, it rages, the condescending sea,” Chip joined in, his smirk slowly morphing into a genuine smile.

“For you I know my journey will succeed,” he finished, noticing Gillion’s voice join in. Chip glanced at him for a second before letting out a soft chuckle.

Jay started stomping on the boat to get the beat going. To her delight, Chip clapped rhythmically and Gillion followed both their suits. Energized, Jay hummed louder.

“And my love, I swear in the waves and whirlpools,” all three sang together, “Soon we will meet and once again become whole.”

With a laugh, Jay skipped closer to the center of the ship. She spun and gestured, mimicking the dances she had observed at Loffinlot, imagining a band accompanying her as she sang as loud as she could.

La, la la la, la la la, la la la.

Gillion was quick to join her, imitating her dance. His heavy boots threatened to break the wood they danced on, but Jay only cared for the lovely bass beat and snare they happened to offer. She grinned at him approvingly, and Gill grinned back.

Off to the side, Chip hung back, providing the main melody.

“Oh lover, oh lover, don’t you dare cry.” Jay reached out a hand to Gillion, who took it. “But laugh and laugh under the pristine blue sky.” She raised it and lead him in a spin. “And never, oh never, would I ever lie. I wish nothing more than for us to reunite!”

Gillion grabbed Jay by the waist, catching her off-guard, but as he lifted her into the air, she loosened up and cheered, feeling the song come to an end.

When she landed, Jay made a show of dusting herself off before bowing to Gillion. Gill, ever the gentleman, bowed back, and Jay giggled.

She looked over to Chip, leaning against the railing and watching with a rather deflated smile. Jay raised an eyebrow. That didn’t look right.

Absent-mindedly tapping his toes, no longer minding the beat, Chip stewed deep in his thoughts. Seeing his friends dance their hearts out was a nice scenario, don’t get him wrong, but despite the undeniable want to join in the festivities, there was a hesitance that Chip couldn’t quite get over. Maybe it’s the weird ache when he remembered voices that he’d never hear again. Maybe it’s because he didn’t want to interrupt the others’ joy. Who knew. Chip sure didn’t.

And Chip definitely didn’t know why the sight of Jay marching towards him made him panic.

“Hey,” Jay said, and Chip immediately heard the over-friendliness in her voice. “What’re you doing, moping in the corner? You said you and the Black Rose Pirates sang this all the time, right?” She leaned forward and locked eyes with Chip, who tensed up. “So, show us what you got.”

She daintily held out a hand, and with it, a challenge. “Dance with us.”

Chip’s eyes grew impossibly wide as his face flushed. “Oh, nah, nahh, that’s okay, I’m really not a dancer,” he stammered. “And you guys are already done with the song, so I really don’t-”

“Gill.” Jay smirked. “Take the beat.”

“Wha-”

“On it!” Gillion grinned with sharp teeth and began to stomp and clap again. He hummed deeply, the tune once again emanating through the ship.

“Jay,” Chip begged, taking a step back. “I don-”

“Nope, round two, coward!”

“Ja-AAAAY!”

Chip yelped as Jay grabbed his arm and dragged him to the newly appointed dance floor, guiding his kicking and screaming form into one of dance. She took one of Chip’s hands and held it up, putting her other hand on his shoulder. “Your free hand on my waist,” she reminded him, ignoring his confused sputtering. “And one, two, three, go.”

She lead the dance in a sort of wild, messy foxtrot, stretching their clasped hands in the direction they move in, side skipping energetically. Chip stumbled at first, caught off-guard, but he quickly adjusted to her same pace, glancing at the ground to make sure he was keeping up. Seeing his face relax and the corners of his mouth quirk up, Jay smiled at him encouragingly.

“Sing, shantyman, it’s your turn,” she said.

Chip’s expression turned into horror once again, gulping as he scrambled to remember the words in time for the melody.

“O-oh maiden, oh maiden, the love to I,” sang Chip.

“I adore the shimmer, the shimmer, the shine in thy eyes,” he and Jay sang together.

“It enamours, enamours, thy light to my li-IIFE, JAY!” Chip screamed as Jay gave him a spin, laughing at his surprised shriek. “Jay, don’t just spin me without warning!”

“You’re being sloppy, shantyman,” Jay teased. “Keep up with the song.”

Chip glared, but continued nonetheless, “And my love, I swear in the sun and the rain.”

Jay gave him another spin, but this time, Chip didn't miss a beat. He gave Jay a smug, triumphant look. Jay raised an eyebrow in turn, admittedly impressed.

“That someday, our hands will intertwine once again!”

“Alright, nice,” Jay complimented, grinning widely.

Chip caught a mischievous glint in her eye, and his face consequently fell.

“One more spin, pretty boy!”

Before he could protest, Jay suddenly spun Chip away with a greater force than before, and the world around him became a blur, the air swirling with the sound of Jay’s devilish voice.

“Gillion,” he heard her yell, “catch!”

And Chip is spun into the arms of Gillion, who beamed at Chip’s very red face.

“Come, Chip.” Gill took both of Chip’s hands. Chip, still trying to recover from the jarring switch of partners, only blinked down at their now clasped fingers. “It is our turn.”

“Oh my god.” Chip laughed nervously.

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp.

“Oh damsel, oh damsel, my heart belongs to thee,” Jay belted as Chip and Gillion figured out their dance. “If you’re troubled, oh so troubled, you must only call on me.”

The other two started to push and pull in tandem, reminiscent of a cha-cha with a bit more energy and spins thrown in every once in a while. They surprisingly guided each other with more harmony and grace than Jay expected.

“And though it rages, it rages, the condescending sea.” Gillion leapt and circled with Chip, almost lifting the latter off the ground. “Just for thou I know that my journey shall succeed!”

“Gill, calm down!” Chip chuckled, partly in amusement and partly in fear, as he started to lose his footing.

Jay looked on, not ignorant to the warm fuzzy feeling in her chest, the beat pulsing along with the adrenaline in her veins.

“And my love, I swear in the waves and whirlpools, soon we will meet and once again become whole.”

Soon she joined them, whooping as she jogged, and they welcomed her with wide smiles, one pair of hands separating to reach out. Jay took the offer to form an interconnected circle, spinning and bobbing as they shared the melody. They sang, as loud as they could, filling the air with a joyful energy.

“Oh lover, oh lover, don’t you dare cry,” Chip started.

The others joined in. “But laugh and laugh under the pristine blue sky.”

And laugh they did, the pure euphoria of indulging in fond memories emitting from them. They stumbled and laughed through mistakes, put their all into the performance, harmonising wonderfully.

Jay caught Pretzel doing somersaults in her globe and Apple circling the crew, chirping the tune with them. She’s reminded of a joking conversation about starting a band. Perhaps they had a chance after all, she thought amusedly. Gillion and the Tidestriders. Chip and the Bastards. Jay and the Dumbass Bluebirds. Whatever you wanted to call it.

Now, though, they were simply three friends, holding hands and dancing, rattling the wood of the ship without a care, singing a sea shanty that they all happened to know.

The stars slowly flooded the darkening sky and twinkled at them like they were dancing along.

To one, the fresh air, the touch of familiar calloused hands that had fought alongside her, and the spray of the ocean was a welcoming contrast to past memories of stuffy spaces and dispassionate work. To another, though the memory was a bit painful, it still brought him the same comforting feeling from years ago, sharing laughter and celebration in a tight kinship that was expected in that of crewmates, deepening the bond with experiences that were not just in battle, but in recreation. And to another still, it was a reminder of a time when he was desperate to learn the oversea culture, and that he still remained ever so curious now as he learned its differences and similarities to his world, forming relationships with its inhabitants, people who were perhaps not as cruel as the elders had suggested.

Those who share such joyous experiences with others must not be that selfish, after all.

“And never, oh never, would I ever lie. I wish nothing more than for us to re-u-nite!”

Jay grinned up at the sky as they hummed the outro melody, a gust of wind sweeping down on them and carrying their voices away, out onto the shimmering waters.

La, la la la, la la la, la la la…

A tug from Jay led the trio up in one final leap, whooping and cheering with the others as they followed. And once their feet landed simultaneously with a bang, the song ended.

As the rush receded from her mind, the pumping blood in her ears quieting down, Jay took in the sound of the waves crashing up against the ship and her heaving breaths. She looked up at the now star-filled sky, wondering when it got so dark. She allowed her hand to slip from her friends’ grasps, moving to lean on bended knee. Jay heard the other two breathing quite heavily as well, and even a plop as Chip seemed to collapse out of the corner of her eye. She followed suit, sprawling onto the wood and closing her eyes, catching her breath. Jay wasn’t extremely tired, but she needed to recuperate.

“Oh god, you kids just had to make a racket up here, didn’t ya?”

Jay breathed out a chuckle upon hearing the raspy voice. “Hi Earl.”

“We were partying, Old man Earl!” Gillion said preppily, unsurprisingly not as out of breath as the others.

“Earl, you got…” A huff from Chip. “You got orange juice? Perhaps? Please?”

“Hmph, you’re fuckin lucky I do.”

Tired cheers chimed from the pirates.

“But you have to go down to get it with dinner. Chop chop.”

“Ohh, come onnnnn,” Chip whined, joining in with the groans of Jay.

“I’ve seen you work, you’re not that tired,” Earl scoffed. “Maybe you shouldn’t have wasted all your energy on destroying the ship! And your vocal chords.”

“Hey, I don’t think we sounded that bad,” Jay said.

“Whatever, just come down and have dinner, I’m definitely not hefting everything up here.” Earl barked out a laugh and proceeded to go back down, ignoring the cries of Jay and Chip.

Soon Gillion’s face popped into Jay’s view. “Are you alright, Jay?” He glanced over. “Chip?”

“I’m coming around,” Jay assured. She stretched her arms up, making grabby hands. “Pull me up?”

Gillion complied, grabbing her arms and lifting her, though at a faster-than-preferred pace. Jay let out a yelp as she got back on her feet before stretching with a groan.

“Thanks, Gill.”

“Hey Giiiilll? Big man? Can I go next?”

Jay looked to Chip, who also had outstretched arms. Gillion walked to him and helped him up as well.

“Thanks, buddy.” Chip patted Gill on the back.

“No problem. Honestly, I did not think you would tire out so easily.”

“Well we need to gain back our energy, then,” Jay said, starting to follow Old man Earl.

“Hey, uh, Jay, um.” Chip caught her attention, and she turned back to see him with a raised hand. He moved it to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly. “That was… that was fun.”

“I agree,” Gillion said with a nod. “I was reminded of some… rather fond memories, actually. And it was a good exercise. We should do it more.”

“Yeah, yeah actually, same. I agree.” Chip looked up at Jay, his face rather tentative. “So, thanks for that, I guess.”

Jay smiled. “You’re welcome, dweeb,” she jabbed. “You’re being more affectionate than usual, but I appreciate it.”

“Hey, don’t call me a dweeb!” Chip’s expression morphed into one of offense. “I just thanked you, that’s so insensitive of you. That’s actually insensitive.”

“I let you fulfill your showman dreams, you’re the one being insensitive right now.”

“Showman- hey, I actually like the sound of that.”

“Yeah you would, you drama queen.”

“You’re calling me dramatic? Have you seen Gill?”

The sound of bickering paired with Gillion’s oblivious chimes trailed below the deck, leaving a fond memory to the glittering dark waters and the twinkling stars still dancing along.

#jrwi #just roll with it #just roll with it fanfiction #jrwi podcast #just roll with it podcast #jrwi riptide #prismatic writing

28 notes · View notes

bibliocratic · 3 years

Text

I was going to write this for the Aspec Archives week, but I got overexcited, so here we are.

AU: Mythical creatures. OG Archive team.

Some CWs apply, see tags.

The sea is more than water, her elder brethren taught her, warned her, chided her. It is home and harm and hungry, and you should not face it alone. Her siblings were older, ever knowing better, boisterous and boasting braver, but even they worried, scolded and fretted when she swam out too far alone into deep waters.

It will love you, but it will not always be kind, her eldest sibling bit out, snapped to mask their anxiety. There can be no bearings, in the deep-deep down, no anchors to denote where the sky lies.

When her people sleep, they rest wedged into some secure rock or crevice, tails looped around tails so no one is lost while dreaming.

You cannot be a shoal of one, my dearest, my youngest and bravest, the oldest of their shoal had said, when she told her she was planning on taking the rising when the waters warmed. Ascending landward on the tide swell, letting the shimmering scales of her tail split into skin.

She had not used the name Sasha at that time because that was a landward name she chose with care. Her folk gather names like a garland of pearls, to be constantly strung longer through life as age advances them; names for qualities, for momentous events, for hopes and desires. Her first name, gifted by her shoal, was guttural. It starts at the back of her throat, trails off into a susurration through gills. Mer is a difficult language to learn, though not impossible.

Tim tried. There is no one singular language of those who skirt the deepwaters, so he attempts to mimic her dialect. His pronunciation stumbling, he makes tentative sentences with the butchered grammar of fry. Martin’s grammar is even worse, though he picks up the eddies and waves of the sounds easier.

Jon, like most things in life, takes it as a challenge. One day, almost stubborn with nerves, to perform his task to perfection, he pushes out a juvenile approximation of her first name. Clipped and textbook and the stress in the wrong places, but Sasha smiles, showing her sharpest teeth in delight. Instructs him where to hold the hum at the back of his throat, how to roll the third phoneme upwards like an air bubble. Jon repeats it and repeats it, quietly smug and pleased at his achievement, and the sea in her soul rocks fondly at the sight.

She broached landward in the rising two moons after her age of maturation. She was one of a handful to come to shore. A sibling in Brighton who she phones every week, another two in Holyhead. Her first shoal traverses to warmer waters when the season shifts, and she would feel the rock-hollow absence of them if it was not for Tim, inviting her to participate in a hundred-and-one inane activities that keep her from feeling swept out; Jon, with his libraries of questions and intrigues, his quick-silver tongue; Martin, who sometimes swims a little further out from them but who finds her small knick-knacks in charity shops and craft markets and leaves them on her desk for no reason other than he has thought of her.

She makes three necklaces, plain with a strong chain, a single pearl attached. And on a day where her folk traditionally string garlands of seaweed and mangrove roots and colourful plants from coral reefs in a celebration of family – there is no one word in her language for this idea; it poorly translates into hierarchies like sibling and brethren and elders, but these are not concepts that fit it exactly – she gifts them to the shoal that will anchor her in the depths of the sea, and bestows upon them names. Most Mer names are wishes for quick fins, calm waters, safe shores, and so she wishes these for them in a language they are not quite proficient in yet.

Her landward shoal is smaller than is traditional. But she loves them as treasures of her heart, and thinks she understands what her siblings told her, about anchors.

His parents, both harpies from local nests, are perplexed when his wings start coming in.

Must be a colouring from your mum’s side, his dad hums thoughtfully when Tim’s primaries grow in long and shining like struck bronze. He runs a careful finger down the central line of the rachis, and the wing shudders and jumps, the feathers still sensitive, and Tim complains that it’s ticklish. His wings are too small to fly away as his dad dives in, captures him in careful arms, corkscrewing upwards a little off the ground with Tim squirming and squealing and squawking in play, but they flutter and flap nonetheless.

The wing span’s from your dad’s side, no-one from my nest ever went more than five foot, his mother says, rubbing at the dark brown of his downy secondaries. Tim stretches them out wide, eager to boast at their length, the tips of his longest feathers reaching past his arms held out wide.

Danny’s wings are smaller. Magpie like, bold lines of white broken up by blue and black, the same as his parents. Tim’s wings, broader, a colour like beaten brass that tips into gold at the ends, draws attention, but he’s never been embarrassed. His family never treated him differently, so he didn’t dwell on it.

He can fly, though he doesn’t often. After his parents died, and after… after Danny, he moved to London, where there’s tighter airspace regulations and permits involved, so he mostly doesn’t bother. This doesn’t mean never, however. He has learned, while working in the Archives, that from the ground, his wings have enough lift to pick up both Jon and Sasha by at least a foot. He thinks he could probably manage Martin as well, if it wasn’t for the unfortunate fact that Martin is mildly allergic to a whole host of things, including feather dander, meaning he gets a bit watery eyed whenever he gets too close to Tim’s wings, and he’s a sniffing, red-eyed mess come moulting season.

Anyway, he can always fly when he leaves the city. When it’s been too long since Sasha’s scales touched seawater, she invites him out to the coast. Jon apparently has had enough of the coast to last a lifetime, and Martin gets funny about large bodies of water, so it’s often the two of them. She swims out, the greenish scales of her tail catching the sun-struck water, and he, above, feeling the breeze brush through his cramped wings, follows her wake. When she breaches the surface in a playful arc, he swoops down, trying to catch her at the same time as she tries to splash him.

“You never thought to look into it?” Jon asks. Always brewing with questions. Tim is obligingly holding out one of his wings, and Jon, who takes everything like a project, has books out and webpages up but with no further clue as to why his colouration and span differ so from his parents.

Tim shrugs. “Doesn’t matter really, does it?”

Jon hums, clearly not agreeing, and Sasha rolls her eyes fondly, and that is the end of that.

Marysia had hoped her child would not take after her husband. She’d lit candles and attended masses during her pregnancy, worn the beads of her rosary smooth. Her child had been born on land, miles from shore, and her husband had been a grounded man, who had folded up his pelt on their wedding night for her and swore to wear no other soul than his human one.

But then her husband leaves, the box where he kept his second soul empty, and Martin is eight years old, and he wakes up one morning glassy-eyed and complaining of nausea, his lip bleeding from where his sharpening teeth have ripped the skin, and she knows her prayers were not answered.

It is not unknown, for the second soul of some folk to flourish later. But it is a rough awakening, to have one’s body grow a new skin out of itself, and Martin is off school for over a week, riddled with fever and fervour, constantly parched, crying and sweating out salt-water.

She watches his skin prickle with grey and black fur, blotching with white over his stomach as he coils up under his covers, throws them off only for his limbs to reduce to shivering. His brown eyes have gone black-shot, his cries a mix of language and barks, and Marysia fears she will lose her only child to the sea.

It will be hard for him to fit in, she tells herself. It would be best to choose one, and he has his friends and family and her on land, and who knows where his father is now, and surely it would be cruel, an unnecessary agony for him to endure some other foreign pull away from all he knows.

She does what she thinks is a kindness, though that is neither excuse nor forgiveness. After nine days, his fur has come through, sleek and soft, his whiskers twitching, and she helps him peel it off as one would do clothes, revealing sweat-sheened limbs, his eyes slipped back into brown again. His gaze still distant and feverish, he tries to cuddle into her, and she soothes him while she finishes stripping off his pelt and folding it neatly.

While he sleeps, she burns it in a fire in the back yard.

When he comes back to himself, she lies and tells him that he’s been sick with a bad fever. And he trusts her, and never questions it. He doesn’t understand that she’s burnt a part of him up, scattered the ashes to the winds, but it was for the right reasons. To keep him safe, and happy, and with her.

He grows up human-limbed and cloven-souled, and she never tells him the truth.

Sasha floats in an ever-dark, stolen away and hidden. There is a knot, a cage-trap around her legs, which have fused into her tail although there is no water. The sea, far away, like the wail in a conch shell, throbs in her soul as she strains and shouts and snarls in the wrapping of spider’s webs.

The sea is the only thing with her in the dark.

Sound has a particular quality, underwater. She hears it first, an echo that shivers through her, like being thrummed on the backdraft of some shallow wave. And then it is a wash of insistence. A command.

The compulsion uses her names, landward and seaward and it pulls and demands her attention, and she shrieks and cries back, struggling in the depths. She is being called home, up up up to breach the surface, and she cannot help but answer.

There is a crack and the sea splits, and she is choking on cold and dusty air.

“Sasha!” someone is saying. “God, is she – she’s not – ?”

“Get that stuff off her, come on. Sasha. Sash, love, can you hear us?”

A series of thuds as she splutters. A twisting, gnarling screech, and several swear words.

“Jesus!”

“Shit – shit, get her out of the way.”

“Boss, move, give me the – ”

The screech degrades into a glitching, warping scream. There is the multi-layered sound of compressed air, and crackling fire,the woosh and stench of something burning.

In time, she cracks her eyes open to the punch of light. Her tail flaps weakly. Someone is pulling great strands of silk that has clumped like poorly soldered iron around her limbs, making visceral noises of disgust. She’s cold-stream shivering, surrounded by broken wood and chippings.

“Hey, hey, we got you. We got you. You with us, Sash?”

The faint scratch of feathers against her cheek. Furnace-warm arms are holding her.

Jon is kneeling down in front of her. Holding an axe and stinking of smoke, and she knows, she knows, that it was his voice she heard, although she doesn’t yet understand why.

Martin throws a blanket over her as she shivers, her tail shrivelling and bisecting into legs. He has silk in his hair, and his fingers are trembling, but his face is broken with a look of such relief.

“It’s you,” he says, and his hand touches at his throat, at the necklace she made for him. “It’s you. It’s really you.”

It’s Martin in the end that carries her out of the tunnels, tucking the blanket completely around her. He is talking in the scatter-gun way he does when he is anxious, babbling, and she can’t bring herself to listen. He smells of soot and saltwater, and she’s never noticed that before.

She falls asleep, curled up into his hold, drained and shaken, but feeling utterly safe.

Jon is human. Completely, one hundred percent, although Sasha had joked once that way way back there must have been some Spinx in the family. Tim’s long suspected that Martin’s not quite human, no matter how he presents, but that’s Martin’s business, not his. Some folks have lineages that are rare, or mistrusted, or misunderstood, and Tim’s not one to pry.

Jon, though. Human through and through. Which is why he’s so worried.

“I shouldn’t have been able to do that,” Jon says. Martin’s with Sasha, making sure there’s no nasty side effects to her imprisonment in the table. Jon’s had a face on him for a while which means he’s Worrying with a capital W, and it’s taken hours for him to untangle himself into a blustered declaration to the rest of the class, spiked with nerves. “That place, it had her. It shouldn’t have… I don’t know what I did, but I told her to leave, a-and she could. And she shouldn’t have been able to.”

“And you think that you did that?”

“I – I know I did that, Tim, I felt it, o-or. I mean, I felt something!”

“Ok, alright. Alright. Let’s, let’s calm down and look at this logically.”

Jon goes over what he said while they struggled to rescue Sasha from the deep. It was something he said, he’s sure of it, which is why he is sitting cross-legged on the floor of the main archive office space with Tim, his trousers getting dusty and his temper scraping frayed, getting increasingly frustrated when he tries recreating exactly what he did with his voice, going through questions and commands and instructions and inquiries. And while Tim answers, it’s clearly not what Jon’s looking for, and he’s rubbing the hair at the back of his head in the way he does when he’s getting increasingly frustrated and is too bull-headed to walk away.

Then Jon, rolling his eyes and seething in annoyance, asks him a throwaway question, one of many he’s been trying – what’s your favourite colour? (seriously, Jon, that’s what you’re going with?!); What did you do at the weekend? (you know what I did, you and Martin were with me!).

“Why did you join the Magnus Institute?”

They both sit, frozen and horrified as Tim’s mouth opens and his words trip over his tongue in their eagerness to leave his mouth. As his eyes grow wide and water with tears as he cannot stop speaking about Danny, about the Covent Garden circus and Joseph Grimaldi. As Jon sits, ramrod-backed and cannot stop listening, a muscle jumping in his jaw. His expression wars between frantic and panicking and hungry.

Tim feels wrung out and hollow once he’s finished. Jon’s manic with apologies. It takes both of them a long time to calm down.

“Maybe… maybe you’re a siren or something?” Tim suggests, but Jon is shaking his head.

“It’s this place, Tim. It’s those statements, when I read them. It’s … I – I think they’re doing something to me.”

Tim looks at Jon and the light strikes off his eyes in a way that it shouldn’t on a human.

He touches Jon’s arm.

“We’ll sort this,” he promises. “We got Sasha out, didn’t we? The four of us, we can get to the bottom of this, yeah?”

Jon nods, and gives a small fragile thanks, and that’s human enough for Tim.

Marysia told herself she was not a bad mother. That her son was simply a hard child to love, that he had all the worst trappings of his father, his brown eyes perpetually caught with a far-away look that doesn’t know where to place its longing. But even as she sickened, and he sloughed off every facet of himself in a pathetic attempt to please her, she couldn’t find anything but sorrow in her heart to look upon the man grown over familiar in face, a growth that grew deep-set and fungal into contempt.

She almost spat the truth out to him. Once or twice, with the thought that confessing might bring them closer. She wished he’d chosen the sea instead, so she wouldn’t have to look upon her amputated, half-formed child who would always be lost.

But she never did.

And Martin finds out alone, cornered in an unlocked office, his hands dropping the lighter as a thousand eyes open and watch satisfied as they pour his mother’s choices down his throat to choke him.

It starts when Martin starts sleeping in archive storage. When Tim watches worms burrow into Jon’s skin at the same time as they latch and gnaw and wriggle under his own. When they get Sasha back, and find Gertrude’s corpse and Jon leaves and gets hurt and hurt and hurt again, and the world around them gets smaller and meaner and there is nothing Tim can do.

He takes to storing food in their desk drawers. Nothing that will go off, or won’t keep. Tins and dried goods and non-perishables. He lines the walls of Martin’s storage room with fire extinguishers of different types, fire blankets, and spare first aid kits bulging with plasters and bandages and antiseptic wipes. He buys blankets and pillows and rope and penknives. He stress-moults constantly, and tucks his feathers out of sight, irritated and embarrassed at the sight of them, and it occurs to him that nesting is not a healthy way to deal with this.

He wants his family safe. He used to think it was such a small thing to ask for.

He thinks about that when the bomb goes off.

He burns, and he is dying.

His rage and fear burn off into a different fury. That it has come to this, his family so threatened, that all he has to his name is his sorrow and trauma and frustration and vengeance.

Tim wants nothing more than to live. To see them safe. To rail and rage against what seeks to harm them. So he burns and he burns and burns, his wings aflame and his mouth twisted in a scream, and does not die.

They dig him out breathing from the rubble. His skin stained grey with ash and soot.

His new wings stretch out red as the sunset.

#tma #the magnus archives #fic #alternative universe #mermaid!sasha #pheonix!tim #selkie!Martin #regularOGhuman!Jon #with added Beholding spicyness #cws for implied child mistreatment #cw fire #cw burning #cw canon typical violence #cw compulsion #ask to tag

138 notes · View notes

mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

Note

"you're in no condition to be walking around" + ThanZag

Mermaid AU!!!! Thought it was time to roll this one out, I’m just super feeling mournful Thanatos on a break from his hectic city job post nervous breakdown, out in an isolated cottage by the sea, falling in love with a mermaid Zagreus he’s been secret friends with since they were kids.

and some Angst

Please leave a comment on Ao3 if you like this!

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

Three days wasn’t late.

Thanatos told himself that every morning and evening, when he would pull on the largest and thickest of the sweaters his mother had knitted for him, shove his bare feet into boots and take a tin mug of coffee out onto the little jetty to wait for Zagreus. He told himself that every hour as the waves rolled in and out without so much as a ripple or a flash of a scaled tail like fire in the water. He told himself every time he had to trudge back to his lopsided cottage on the fringe of the pebbled shoreline, cold and probably soaked to the bone, to start work or to sink into fitful dreams, still with that question weighing him down inside like a ballast stone.

But three days wasn’t late. He’d been gone for longer stretches than this. His people ranged far, travelled long distances for forage and food or on sheer curiosity. Hadn’t Zagreus shown him fossils he’d rescued from deep coves or necklaces ancient with tarnish he’d scavenged from shipwrecks older than both of them, hadn’t he been widening his friend’s eyes with stories of underwater volcanoes and tropical waters warm as blood and dodging ice floes in arctic waters, since the two of them were children? Three days was nothing. Three days wasn’t late.

So why weren’t the words any comfort?

Because every other time, he told you when he was going away, Than catalogued his reasons for anxiety miserably, sitting on the end of the jetty in a misty drizzle with his eyes fixed out to sea. Because even if he was going ranging, he’d swim back at twice the speed to come and see you. He sipped his now cold coffee and tasted rainwater. Because the storms have been bad recently. He bleakly noted that it was an hour past sunset, their usual meeting time, and he should probably be going inside. Because you have a really bad feeling you just can’t shake.

Thanatos pushed a hand through his silver hair, feeling the raindrops caught in it melt and run down the inside of his wrist. He was beyond exhausted, it was a fog in his mind, but something kept him pinned to the edge of the rickety little pier, swinging his legs like he used to when he was a child. Maybe if he acted like he did back then, Zagreus would just appear with that same, bright grin on his face, as unexpected and magical as the first time.

Eventually the ache in his joints grew impossible to ignore and the damp in the seat of his jeans reached an unbearable level of discomfort. Than swallowed his disappointment and upturned the dregs of his coffee into the sea, wincing as he hauled himself back onto his feet, carefully so he didn’t slip on the slick, half rotted wood and end up tumbling into the slate grey water. He sent one last, longing look out across the waves, straining for a flash of black hair or scales like flame. When there was none, he sighed and turned back to his cottage, a smudge of shadow through the hazy rainfall.

Four days wasn’t late.

The wind was starting to pick up, promising another storm close on the heels of the one that had just broken the day before. It’s low, threatening murmur was almost loud enough that he didn’t hear the wild, desperate cry of his name. Almost.

He whirled and saw it, out where the waves were starting to roll and surge, a good few yards out from the end of the jetty. In between the rising peaks of the water, only visible when they fell away, a pale, shaking form, waving desperately. And, visible even from here, a mouth tight with pain and a pair of mismatched eyes large with panic.

Thanatos barely paused to think. Only to remember the many lessons his mother had drilled into him and his siblings when they would visit in the summer and to realise that the heavy wool jumper and the clunky boots should be pulled off and left behind. Once that was done, he was running, slipping into a smooth dive as he launched himself off the end of the jetty.

As soon as he hit the water, all of his senses went dead for a moment, only to flood back with screaming alarms of panic and pain that threatened to pull him under. But at the last moment he managed to enter that strange, eerie headspace of total calm he could summon when things seemed most dire. He sunk himself into the rhythm of his strokes, the pull of his muscles, the swell of the water around him, the burn as his head broke the surface and he dragged in as much air as he could before plunging ahead.

Thanatos had always been the strongest swimmer of his brothers and a childhood spent trying to keep up with Zagreus had only sharpened those skills. The water was a bitter, sullen force around him, wanting to draw him everywhere but where he needed to go, angry at his intrusion. But Than managed to be stronger, closing the distance between himself and his friend as quickly as he could.

Zag’s mouth was open and faint, frantic words were coming out but Than didn’t waste time listening.

“Go limp!” he called over the crash of the waves around him, slipping his arm around Zag’s chest, tipping him back so he could drag him along.

He heard an unmistakable yelp of pain from his friend and felt a wetness on his side far warmer than seawater but Zag did as he’d asked and towing him back to the shoreline was surprisingly easy, now the shock of the cold was over, now that he could feel Zag’s terrified heartbeat against his arm. Now that Thanatos could feel how much his friend needed him, it was a simple task.

The last part was mostly an ungainly dragging and hauling act as Than laid Zag down as far out of the surf as he could stand to carry his weight. Against the stones and silt and sand, he could see how deathly pale his friend was, how sharply the blood stood out against his skin from the tear in his side. It was like the colours of his tail were running in the water, leeching up

“Zagreus…” he panted, teeth starting to chatter.

“Sorry I’m late,” Zag choked out, his voice a faint echo in his throat.

Than cursed, forcing his burning muscles to keep moving, sliding his arms under Zag and managing to lift him. He wasn’t as heavy as he might have been, built lithe and sleek for a life of swimming, and he wasn’t slimy the way a younger Thanatos assumed fish would feel. But neither was he warm, the way he was supposed to be, and he had the heaviness of someone truly exhausted.

“Just stay with me,” Than ground out, carrying him the last of the cold, windy way to the cottage, “You can be as late as you bloody well please if you just keep talking...do you have enough to change?”

Zag tensed in his arms, grimacing before going limp and shaking his head, “Sorry…”

“Don’t you dare,” Than didn’t even stop, shouldering the door to his home open and just carrying him straight up the stairs to the bathroom, “Just talk. Tell me how it happened.”

Zag swallowed hard and turned his face to Than’s shoulder, clearly trying to bear the pain from the jolt of the steps, “I...I wanted to visit but the storms...and then we heard word of hunters coming into our territory…”

“Hunters?” Than frowned, kicking down the door to the poky little bathroom, “You’ve not mentioned hunters?”

“Half fishermen, half pirates,” Zag’s grip on Than’s shoulders was like iron as he laid him down in the tub, voice tense and tight, “They want our scales. Jewellery and stuff. Or else put us on display in shows. It’s death or captivity if they catch you and we heard they were in our waters. That they already had some of my people.”

Than murmured soothingly as he tried to get him comfortable, wrenching the tight, temperamental old faucets into life so water could pour down onto him, keeping him going until he could summon the strength to shift.

“Let me guess,” he sighed, “You went on a rescue mission. By yourself.”

“Not by myself,” Zag muttered sullenly, as Than moved his arm so he could properly see the gash in his side, “Father’s guards were right behind me. I just got there first.”

Than nodded, unsurprised, studying the wound. It wasn’t clean, the edges were ragged and it was deep. He’d need to stitch it shut, he realised. He could, of course, anyone in his line of work knew basic medical things like that, he’d just need to steady his hands first.

“And did you get them back? Your people?”

“I did,” Zag’s face twisted into a triumphant kind of grimace, “Just got a harpoon in the side for my trouble.”

“A harpoon? Blood and darkness, Zagreus…”

“Sent me right over the side of their damned boat,” he hissed as some of Than’s cleaning came too close, “Storm was up by then, I lost sight of everyone else and...and…”

Than looked up, curious, “Zag?”

“And I ended up with you,” his friend’s voice was faint, his eyes more distant, “I guess the currents just took me where I wanted to go.”

Than’s hands stilled, everything seeming to pause for a moment apart from the rushing of the water from the taps and Zag’s laboured breathing. But the moment passed and he set it to one side, focusing on that calm, the stillness that allowed him to do what needed to be done.

“Well...you’re here now,” he murmured soothingly, “And you’re staying here for the foreseeable. You’re in no condition to be walking around.”

Zag gave a thin laugh, flapping his red gold fins weakly, “You’re telling me.”

“I was more thinking of your oversized new gill,” Than rolled his eyes, “I’ll stitch you up, bandage it and you can shift. Then you’re sleeping for a very, very long time.”

“Aye aye,” Zag murmured, head lolling back against the rim of the tub, “Thanks, Than...and I am sorry I was late. I hope you weren’t waiting for me.”

Than exhaled softly, reaching over and brushing sodden hair back from his forehead. Already he was starting to warm, in from the cold and the wind. Warm and safe and sound.

“Not too long.”

#thanzag #mermaid au #injury mention #blood mention #please comment and reblog!

31 notes · View notes

rootbeergoddess · 3 years

Text

Candle on the Water

First, thank you to the amazing and wonderful @positivelydetectivecomics for not just editing but also being my #1 fan girl and fellow Tom Hiddleston/Thomas Sharpe groupie. Second, this has to be one of the longest things I’ve ever written. It’s like twenty pages. I’m so shocked I managed to write this much! Anyways, this is a Little Mermaid AU for Crimson Peak because I want Thomas to be happy goddamnit.

The title is from the song Candle on the Water from Pete’s Dragon.

~*~

The ocean had always fascinated and terrified Thomas. It was vast, deep and endless. There was no way humans would ever be able to search the entirety of it. It offered up many beauties but also horrors. That didn’t mean he didn’t find it beautiful. He just preferred to enjoy it from the beach, not on a boat.

Boats made him nervous. Being an engineer, he could appreciate the beauty of a design but he didn’t think humans were meant to float. Plus, he got seasick. Why had he agreed to this forsaken cruise? Lucille was nowhere to be seen but he honestly preferred to be alone right now. Her presence had become smothering. He had known that sooner or later this farce of a relationship would have to end and he could see the end in sight. Avoiding her wasn’t his best strategy but he still needed time to think. How could he tell his sister that he was done with her?

I'll be your candle on the water

My love for you will always burn

I know your lost and drifting,

But the clouds are lifting

Don't give up you have somewhere to turn

Thomas lifted his head, scanning the ocean. Singing, someone was singing. It was a song he had never heard but it was the most melodic thing he had ever heard. But he was confused. The voice was coming from the water. That was impossible unless it was a really talented manatee. There were no islands for miles and they weren’t even remotely close to the shore. Was this a trick?

I'll be your candle on the water

Till every wave is warm and bright

My soul is there beside you,

Let this candle guide you

Soon you'll see a golden stream of light

Confusion was replaced with curiosity. Thomas scanned the ocean, desperate to find the source of the song. He walked along the deck, his eyes never leaving the waters. Then, he spotted it. Sitting on a rock, he saw a woman with her eyes up to the sky and her mouth opened.

A cold and friendless tide has found you

Don't let the stormy darkness pull you down

I'll paint a ray of hope around you

Circling in the air, lighted by a prayer

The boat was getting closer and Thomas gasped when he got a better look. It wasn’t a woman, it was a mermaid. She had no legs but a dark, blue tail of scales. Her long hair was in a braid with seashells and starfish. Around the rock were a group of fish and a few other sea creatures, all listening to her song. He wasn’t sure why he did but Thomas stood on the railing. Her voice was so pure and rich, he had to hear more.

I'll be your candle on the water

This flame inside of me will grow

Keep holding on, you'll make it

Here's my hand so take it

Look for me reaching out to show

As sure as rivers flow,

I'll never let you go

Her song was done and Thomas’ heart felt heavy. Then, she looked away from the sky and their eyes met. Thomas wanted to say something, anything but at that moment, he lost his footing and fell into the water.

~*~

You dove right into action when you saw the human hit the water.

Humans were not born natural swimmers like mermaids were. They had to be taught how to swim and some of them never learned the skill. They also didn’t possess gills or any means of breathing underwater. This human could drown without your help and as you dove under the water, you could see him struggling. The poor thing was terrified.

You swam to him and when you reached him, you saw the fear in his eyes. Instantly, you felt bad. He had been listening to you, that was why he was standing on that large, metal thing and he had slipped. How foolish were you? Without wasting a moment, you grabbed him and swam back up to the surface. He gasped for air, desperate to fill his lungs.

“Easy, easy,” You rubbed his back.

The humans on the metal contraption were in a tizzy; they were searching for him, you suspected. There had to be a way to get him back to where he belonged without you getting spotted. As you thought, you felt the human’s eyes on you and you turned to face him. His fear was gone and was replaced by adoration. It was odd but you felt a bit shy suddenly.

“You’re a mermaid,” He said.

“Yes,” You said. “And you’re a human.”

“You’re beautiful.”

You felt your face flush. Other merfolk had told you that you were beautiful, you were the king’s daughter after all. So, why did this human make you feel weak? The thought was pushed to the back of your mind when you came up with a solution to your predicament.

“Oberon,” You said.

“What?” He asked.

Around your neck was a shell necklace; in the middle was a small, blue conch shell with holes drilled into it. You placed the tip of it into your mouth and then blew into it. The human watched you, entranced by everything you did.

“What is that?” He asked.

“It’s how I call my friends,” You said. “Oberon should be here any minute.”

“Is he a friend of yours? Is he a merperson like you? How did you meet him?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” You said, smiling.

“I’m sorry but---I thought mermaids were a myth,” He said. “And I’ve never met such a captivating creature before in my life.”

Again, familiar words but your heart swelled at this.

“Do you have a name?” He asked, his eyes scanning every inch of your face.

“Y/N. Do you have one?”

“Thomas. Thomas Sharpe.”

Before you could ask anymore questions, a large tentacle poked out of the ocean. Thomas screamed but you quickly covered his mouth.

“No, it’s okay,” You told him. “This is Oberon. He’s going to help you back onto your---floating island.”

“You can talk to a giant octopus?” Thomas asked. “That’s incredible I---wait, you mean you’re leaving?”

He sounded disappointed. Guilt returned to you but you knew you were doing the right thing.

“I have too, it’s too dangerous,” You said. “If someone else were to find me, they’d gut me like a fish or worse.”

“Will I ever get a chance to see you again?” He asked.

“It’s probably better to forget about me,” You gave him a sad smile. “Goodbye, Thomas.”

You placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and dove back into the water. Oberon wrapped a tentacle around Thomas’ waist and soon, he was gone. Sighing, he delved deeper into the depths towards your home, thinking he’d forget about the experience completely.

~*~

Thomas didn’t forget.

When Y/N had swum away, he was ready to go after her He was no match for Oberon though; the massive octopus placed him back on the boat as if it was nothing. He watched as the tentacles receded into the water, leaving him behind. He wanted to throw himself back into the water to swim after her but it was a foolish idea. Y/Nwere faster than him, how would he catch up to her?

Lucille had found him and she was furious, blaming everyone from the captain to the cook. Thomas let her fret over him but his mind was elsewhere. A mermaid; he had met a real life mermaid named Y/N. The fairy tales he had read as a child hadn’t done Y/N justice; she was a million times more beautiful than anything in any book. The rest of the trip felt like a blur to him. Lucille didn’t let him out of her sight. This would have annoyed him but he was more focused on finding Y/N again. Each day was spent on the deck, praying and hoping he’d hear her golden tone again. Lucille pestered him, asking him what he was looking for but he never told her. Would she believe him? Who cared about that, he was worried about Y/N’s safety.

“If someone else were to find me, they’d gut me like a fish or worse.”

Lucille was the or worse. Thomas longed to see Y/N again but he couldn’t stand the thought of Lucille discovering her. She would take such joy in destroying the beautiful maid. Even if he ever saw her again,he would do all in his power to make sure Lucille would never find out.

They returned to land two days later. Lucille was doing everything in her power to get Thomas’ attention back.

“Thomas, you need to stop daydreaming and focus again,” Lucille nagged. “I don’t know what happened that night but it seems to have affected you more than you’re letting on.”

“I’m fine,” He lied. “I wished you’d believe me.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying,” Lucille grabbed his hand. “I know you too well.”

She was right but that didn’t change anything. Thomas couldn’t remember how or when he realized the relationship he had with his sister was wrong. No, not wrong; twisted. Loving his sister in that way had been wrong but he hadn’t stopped it or even tried until now. Meeting Y/Nh had just made him want to distance himself from Lucille even more.

When they reached home, Thomas still found himself distracted. He tried to work on his machine but it was impossible. He was dying to see Y/N again. The only issue was he had no idea how to find her. He felt hopeless; would he ever be able to find her again? Thinking of being unable to reunite with Y/N filled him with dread. For days, he felt aimless. Two weeks after the trip, he decided to take a ride to clear his mind.

Thomas found himself drawn to the beach. It was hopeless but he thought that maybe he’d be able to spot a glimpse of her again. He had the carriage stop and he popped out, surveying the land before him. He stopped when he saw something on the beach; a body. Confusion filled him as he headed down on the warm sand and walked towards the unmoving person. His heart nearly stopped when he realized who it was.

“Y/N?”

Carefully, he turned the woman on her back. Yes, it was Y/N. He caressed her face and her eyes fluttered open. When she saw him, she managed a weak smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to forget,” she replied.

~*~

Thomas wrapped you in his coat and helped you walk towards his carriage. You stopped when you saw the two huge, black creatures.

“What are those?” You asked, scared.

“They’re just horses,” Thomas said. “They’re beasts of burden we use in our day to day life.”

“They’re so big,” You said. “They look like they want to eat me.”

“It’s alright,” Thomas assured you. “Watch.”

He made a clicking noise with his tongue and the horses looked his way. He reached out, rubbing the snout of one. You watched with awe, amazed that such large creatures would bend to him. The horse noticed you and you shrank away but Thomas took your hand in his. Then, he carefully placed it on the horse’s snout.

“It’s soft,” you said, “I thought they would vanish. They look like they’re made of shadows.”

Thomas chuckled at this and you smiled. You ignored the looks of the driver as Thomas helped you into the carriage. Fascinated by this new mode of transportation, you sat down and ran your hands over the cushions of the seats. Thomas sat down next to you, watching you as you felt the fabric.

“Y/N?”

You looked at him.

“How---how are you here?” He asked.

“It’s a rather long story,” You said.

“I’d love to hear it.”

So, you told him. You told him about how after meeting him, you kept thinking of him. No matter what you did, you couldn’t forget him and it was driving you mad. Your sisters had noticed and asked what was wrong but you lied, telling them you were thinking about how you wanted a new seashell necklace. After two weeks, you decided enough was enough and you had to do something about it.

You had to see Thomas again.

Under the cover of night, you snuck off into the deepest, darkest waters to the home of Morwenna, the sea witch. After explaining your problem, she told you she would help you but she warned you it was dangerous.

That part you didn’t tell Thomas. You didn’t want him to know what giving up your tail would potentially cost. Or that if he didn’t feel anything for you, you’d turn into seafoam.

Morwenna had one of her anglerfish take you towards the surface along with a potion and a sack full of jewels. According to the witch, humans had to ‘pay’ for things. The jewels would help you do so. Once you drank the liquid, your tail started to split and you felt imessnese pain. It was so bad that you blacked out. You think the angelfish pushed you towards the shore but you weren’t sure. As you told Thomas this, he never took his eyes off of you.

“I’m so happy to see you again,” he said, “These past two weeks have been such a nightmare.”

“They have?”

“I’ve done nothing but think of you,” he admitted.

“Then I made your life miserable.” You felt awful.

“No, don’t think that! I can’t explain it but meeting you--it’s changed me,” Thomas turned your face to look at him. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here.”

“So you’re not upset?”

“No. Although I wish you had been able to contact me,” Thomas smiled. “I could have brought you a dress.”

“A what?”

You soon learned what a dress was. The carriage arrived in town and once you saw other people, you pressed your face against the window. There were so many people, dressed in such odd fabrics. Thomas stopped the carriage and told you to wait for him. You pouted at first but he promised you’d be able to leave the carriage soon. Not wanting to upset him, you agreed to wait. A few minutes later, Thomas returned with two women.

“Hello!” you greeted them happily.

“Oh you poor thing!” one of them said, “Look at the state you're in.”

“I’m not poor or a thing,” you said but they ignored you.

“Come here dearest, we’ll get you cleaned up and we’ll find something proper for you to wear.”

You were confused and looked at Thomas. He gave you a small nod. Well, if he trusted these humans, you trusted them. They helped you out of the carriage, making sure Thomas' coat covered all of you and ushered you into a building. They took you towards the back and gave you a simple ‘dress’ to wear. You stared at it, wondering what to do with it. It was such an odd thing, why did humans wear them?

“Here dearie,” One of them said. “Let me help you.”

You were thankful for the help. Once you were dressed, they began to ‘measure’ you. Measuring involved some long, yellow thing and a lot of notes. Curious, you grabbed at the yellow item and tugged at it.

“What is it?” You asked, holding it up.

“A measuring tape dear. Poor thing, your amnesia must be terrible. You don't remember anything.”

“I do remember things! I remember my name, it’s Y/N,” You said. “And who are you?”

“I’m Miss Chatterly and this is my daughter Elizabeth,” The elder of the two said. “Now stand still darling. We’re going to get your measurements and find you a dress.”

“Must I wear a dress?”

“Of course dear, you want to be a proper woman, don’t you?”

You thought about this for a second.

“If I’m a proper woman, will Thomas like me?” you asked.

“I think he already likes you, my sweet,” Miss Chatterley chuckled. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, he’s obviously smitten.”

Smitten: you liked that word. You tried to be obedient and not move but everything was so interesting! Thankfully, Miss Chatterley and Elizabeth were patient as well as they were kind. After taking your measurements, Elizabeth went to start working on some dresses while Miss Chatterley found something for you to wear in the meantime. It was a gorgeous deep blue with white pearl buttons and black, lace detail on the back. While you didn’t understand the point of dresses, it was pretty.

“It’s beautiful!” You said. “I love it!”

You needed some help walking out to Thomas. Walking was already hard enough but the dress made this difficult. Why did the women on the surface torture themselves like this? But you had to be proper. Only a proper lady could win Thomas’ heart. Thomas smiled when he saw you.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“I feel beautiful if not a bit strange,” you replied. “The colors remind me of the ocean.”

“Now be careful dearest,” Miss Chatterley said, “It seems like you’ve forgotten how to walk too.”

“I’ve never walked before! I can’t forget something I never learned,” you said.

“You were right, Sir Thomas,” Miss Chatterley tutted, “That bump on the head must have really scrambled her noggin.”

“Indeed it has,” Thomas said, taking your hand, “I found her passed out and naked on the beach. I have no idea what happened to her but I vowed to make sure she was taken care of.”

That wasn’t a total lie but you were confused. Why did everyone keep talking about your head? You took the bag of jewels Thomas had been holding and reached into it. You pulled out a large sapphire and placed it in Miss Chatterley’s hand.

“Thank you for my first dress,” you said, wrapping your hand around hers. “I’ll cherish this forever.”

“My dear, this is too much,” she began to protest.

“Please, take it,” you smiled, “I cannot let your kindness go unrewarded.”

“Oh goodness, thank you love,” Miss Chatterley grinned at you.

Thomas led you back out of the building, keeping a firm grip on you as you tried to walk. This was frustrating; Thomas made it look so easy.

“Here, watch my legs,” he said. “It’s one foot in front of the other.”

“It still feels peculiar,” you said, “It’s not like swimming at all. How come it’s so easy for you?”

“Well, I had to learn as well,” Thomas said, leading you back to the carriage. “You see, when humans are babies, we can’t walk at all. We start off by crawling, then we push ourselves up and start to toddle.”

“That’s fascinating! Tell me more,” you said. “Please? I want to learn more about humans. And I have questions too. Why did you tell Miss Chatterley I bumped my head?”

“Into the carriage first and then I’ll tell you more,” Thomas said.

You obeyed and got back into the carriage. It started again but instead of staring out the window, you leaned against Thomas. He tensed a bit before putting an arm around you.

“I remember you said that it was dangerous if anyone were to find out that you’re a mermaid,” he said. “So in order to not arouse suspicion, I told them you had bumped your head and gotten amnesia. It’s a condition where people lose their memory. That way no one would think you were odd for not understanding certain concepts.”

“Like dresses?”

“Yes, like dresses,” he chuckled, “Do you really dislike it?”

“No but it’s hard to move in,” you said. “But it’s what a proper lady does so I must wear one. What else does a proper lady do?”

“In all honesty, I prefer you just the way you are,” he said.

His words made your heart soar. There was so much you wanted to tell him but you remained silent. Was it proper for a woman to declare how she felt for a man or should she stay quiet? This was all confusing; why couldn’t relationships be easier?

“But what do proper ladies do?” you persisted.

“I suppose I’m the wrong person to answer that,” Thomas said with a smile. “But I suppose we could find someone to help you learn.”

“Like Miss Chatterley? She was so kind. And her daughter,” you said, “How sweet of them to make me dresses!”

“I suppose you could ask them your questions,” Thomas said as the carriage. “Alright, so this is where you’ll be staying.”

You looked out the carriage to see a large building. It was bigger than the other one and there were so many more people. As Thomas helped you out, you couldn’t stop looking at everything. Thomas led you to a human behind a large piece of wood who greeted you both.

“Hello good sir, I was hoping you would have a room for rent,” Thomas said. “I’ll be paying upfront and it’ll be for this young lady.”

“Of course sir,” the man said.

You were given a key and led to a room. Instantly, you were drawn to a large item in the middle of it. You walked over to it and touched it. Oh, it was soft. You got on top of it, finding it was also bouncy.

“What is this?” you asked Thomas.

“A bed,” Thomas said, “You sleep on it.”

“But it’s not made of coral,” you said, “And where are the fish?”

Curious, you crawled over to the edge of the bed and looked down. No, you didn’t see any fish.

“Do mermaids sleep in coral reefs?” Thomas asked.

“Yes and the fish keep us company,” you said, turning back to him, “Will I like a bed?”

“I think you will,” Thomas said smiling, “Will you be content here?”

There was something about his tone that felt off.

“You aren’t going to stay here with me, are you?”

Thomas’ smile vanished.

“I want to stay with you but--I need to keep you safe,” Thomas said, “I can’t explain it right now but there is someone in my life who wouldn't like you.”

“Why?” You asked.

How could someone dislike you if you hadn’t even met them yet? Surely you couldn’t have made this person angry without having done something to them. You waited for Thomas to say something, growing a tad frustrated. Crossing your arms, you sat on the bed and turned your head away from him.

“Y/N,” he said gently. “I have to keep you safe. I promise, I’ll come to see you everyday but for now, please stay here. Where it’s safe.”

“Fine,” you said, not looking at him.

Were you being petty? Maybe, but you came all this way for Thomas. You were risking everything. There was a chance you’d never see your father or sisters again. If Thomas didn’t love you, you’d turn into seafoam and never be able to swim again. Why couldn’t he understand that?

“You can leave now,” you added, still feeling angry.

Thomas walked to you, getting down on his knees.

“Y/N,” he said, taking your hand, “If anything were to happen to you, I'd never forgive myself.”

You stole a glance at Thomas; his blue eyes were shining with sincerity. It was hard to stay angry at him when he looked at you that way. While you wished he’d stay with you, you had to trust him. Thomas was the only human you knew.

“Alright,” you said, “But you’ll come visit me right?”

“Of course,” Thomas said with a smile, “I promise to come back later for dinner but for now, stay put.”

“Okay Thomas.”

~*~

Thomas was enamored and worried at the exact same time.

Of course, he was enamored with Y/N. She was so different from the women around him. She was sweet, friendly and so curious. Constantly, she was asking questions. Other people seemed to fall under her spell as she became interested in everything around her. When he was with Y/N, all the she did was talk about the wonderful things the surface had to offer. Thomas was thankful that he could answer most of her questions.

He was worried because he knew it was only a matter of time before Lucille found out. Lucille’s anger was terrifying. Thomas had never been on the receiving end of it thankfully but he had seen it. She was also a possessive woman; if Lucille saw him with Y/N, he’s not sure what he’d do. Run? Hide her? All he knew was that protecting Y/N was of the utmost importance.

“Thomas, what are they doing?”

It was a nice, sunny day and the pair were walking along the busy streets of England. Y/N stopped to point at a four piece band, playing some music.

“They’re playing music,” He said.

He should have realized she would have been interested and Y/N walked towards the men, completely engrossed. But then she started to sing.

Ah Danny boy, the pipes,

The pipes are calling

From glen to glen,

And down the mountain side

People stopped what they were doing and started to listen to Y/N’s melodic voice. It was amazing how one voice held such power. Thomas beamed as people surrounded her to listen to her perfect voice, his heart almost bursting with joy. The more time he spent with Y/N, the deeper in love he fell. He wanted to tell her so badly how he felt but he kept stopping. He’d have to deal with Lucille first, then he could tell Y/N

Applause rang out once she finished singing. After thanking the musicians, Y/N ran back over to Thomas.

“Oh Thomas, wasn’t that wonderful?” She asked.

“Of course it was,” Thomas said. “Anytime you sing, it’s wonderful. But how did you know the words?”

“I just do,” she replied smiling, “Mermaids have the ability to know all songs but we each have a special one.”

“Like the one you sang the first night we met?” Thomas asked.

“Yes,” she smiled again, making his heart giddy. “We’re each born with a song in our heart. Candle on the Water is mine.”

“It’s a beautiful song,” Thomas said.

“Well,” she blushed, “It’s also a special song. You see---oh nevermind.”

“What? Don’t become shy now,” Thomas teased, “Tell me.”

“Merfolk find their soulmates through song,” she continued, “Our special song is supposed to connect to our soulmate and lead us to them.”

Thomas felt his heart stop. He took hold of Y/N’s hand and she stopped walking.

“By any chance, does the song work on humans?” he asked.

“I---I don’t know,” she replied, fidgeting slightly, “Is there a reason as to why you’re asking?

Thomas swallowed, staring into her eyes. He felt heat course through his body as Y/N closed her eyes and inched closer. Thomas was about to do the same when someone called his name.

“Thomas?”

Thomas’ blood went cold as he turned to see his sister. Lucille said nothing at first, staring at Y/N with a cold, calculating look. Lucille was analyzing Y/N, seeing if she was a threat. Thomas prayed that Y/N would appear weak and helpless; that was the only way she’d be safe. With a tight lipped smile, Lucille looked back at Thomas.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“Oh, this is just an old acquaintance of mine,” Thomas said, laying a protective hand on Y/N. “Y/N, this is my sister Lucille.”

“A pleasure,” Y/N said curtly.

Maybe it was because their romantic moment had been ruined or she sensed Lucille’s venom but Y/N’s usually sunny dispotiston vanished. Thomas wasn’t sure if Lucille bought Thomas' lie but she continued to smile, acting as if everything was fine.

“You’ve never mentioned her before,” Lucille continued, “I would think you’d mention such a good friend of yours.”

“I’m sorry, I must be going,” Y/N said suddenly, “Good day.”

Thomas watched as Y/N bolted down the street. His heart told him to chase after her but his brain told him to stop. If he made a scene, Lucille would realize Y/N was more than a friend. It hurt him to do so but Thomas let Y/N slip away. She looked back once but her eyes were sad.

“Thomas,” Lucille said, “I thought you said you had a meeting today.”

“I did,” Thomas lied, “But the meeting ended early and as I was heading back home, I happened to run into Y/N. We were just talking, remembering the old days.”

“Thomas,” Lucille stepped closer to him, “I know when you’re lying to me. Tell me, who is she?”

“No one you need to worry about,” Thomas said. “Let’s go home.”

~*~

Thomas had mentioned Lucille to you before. She was his sister but Thomas didn’t talk of her lovingly, andhere was something off about their relationship. Thomas hadn’t stated it out right but you weren’t going to push him to talk about it. If he wanted to tell you, he would. Meeting Lucille confirmed your sucsopions about her; she was evil. There was a bad aura around her, you could feel it. Thomas had tensed up when he had heard her voice.

It had been two days since you had last seen Thomas and your heart was heavy. There was only one day left before you’d turn into seafoam. You were standing by the window, looking out towards the ocean. You missed Oberon and regretted not saying goodbye to him when you had the chance. The shell you used to call him was still around your neck, but you hadn’t used it in days. Maybe you could go say goodbye tonight. With another sigh, you grabbed your coat and headed to the door.

You were shocked to find Lucille standing there.

“Lucille,” you said, stepping back.

“Y/N,” Lucille’s voice was icy, “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Oh,” you touched the shell around your neck, “I’ll be leaving town soon. I was going to say goodbye to a friend.”

“How quaint,” Lucille smiled but there was no warmth to it, “And what of Thomas?”

Your heart clenched.

“I don’t want to bother him,” you said, stepping past Lucille, “Excuse me.”

Lucille grabbed your arm, twisting it and making you wince.

“Yet you’ve been bothering him,” Lucille sneered, “Instead of working, he comes here to visit you, doesn’t he? I knew he was hiding something. I know him better than he knows himself, you see. I’ve been with him since the beginning.”

“Lucille, please let go,” you said.

“He needs me,” Lucille continued. “I’m the one who has always protected him. I protected him from mother and everyone else. They tried to take him away from me but we’re meant to be together.”

“What are you talking about?” you tried to get free, “Let me go.”

“You’re a distraction, a commodity, something to entertain him,” Lucille’s eyes looked mad, “But he always comes back to me. No one loves him the way I do.”

Realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

“That’s disgusting!” You managed to get your hand free. “You’re his sister!”

“Who are you to judge us?” Lucille stalked towards you, “You’re a little nothing with no name, no family, no title. You’re just a mysterious whore who has bewitched my brother. How long do you think you’d hide?”

“I’m leaving,” you said, trying to get to the stairs, “I’ll forget about Thomas and never come back.”

“That’s not good enough!”

Lucille grabbed you and turned you around, a knife in her hand. Fear seized your body as she pointed it towards your neck.

“You’re coming with me.”

The streets were barren as Lucille marched you down towards the pier. Tears streamed down your face as you obeyed, your heart twisted and body hurting. Tomorrow would come and you’d be no more. Your father, your sisters and Obreon; you’d never get to see them again. It all hurt but what hurt the most was not being able to see Thomas again. What a fool you had been; all this time and you hadn’t been able to tell him.

You stumbled as you reached the docks. Lucille grabbed you by the hair, forced you up. Your legs felt weak as your bones began to fade. Tears continued to roll down your cheeks as you marched towards your fate. Even if you jumped into the water, you couldn’t swim for long before you transformed into seafoam. How you wished you could call Oberon but with Lucille at your back, you were afraid to make a move.

“You’re going to jump into the water and drown yourself,” Lucille commanded, “In the morning, I’ll tell Thomas that you’ve left. Saddened and heartbroken, he’ll be mine once more.”

Anger filled you; how dare she treat Thomas like an object. This wasn’t love, it was obsession. Maybe you’d die or turn into foam but you wanted to take one more risk. Just one more. Sighing, you opened up your mouth and began to sing.

I'll be your candle on the water

My love for you will always burn

I know your lost and drifting,

But the clouds are lifting

Don't give up you have somewhere to turn

“What are you doing?” Lucille pressed the knife to your back, “Stop that.”

But you didn’t stop. You kept singing. IF the legends were true, Thomas would hear you wherever you were. Even when Lucille pushed the knife into your back, you continued to sing through the pain.

“Lucille, stop!”

You turned around to see Thomas standing behind the two of you. You smiled but Lucille pushed the knife in deeper, making you cry out.

“I won’t stop until she’s dead!” Lucille shouted, “You swore you’d never fall in love with anyone else.”

“I’m sorry Lucille,” Thomas took a step forward, “I---I heard her song.”

It was true. Thomas was your soulmate. Your song had reached him and he had used it to find you. Lucille looked confused but only for a second. Enraged, she took the knife out of your back and you slumped down, unable to stand. The loss of blood and your body changing was too much to bear.

“Are you saying you love her?” Lucille asked.

“Yes,” Thomas got closer, “Lucille, I fell in love with her the moment I heard her song.”

Lucille stared at Thomas, bewildered. Her grip was still on the knife and you realized something; once you were dead, she’d kill Thomas. With what little strength you had, you grabbed the shell and placed it to your lips. Lucille knocked the shell out of your hand and raised the knife to stab you again. You heard Thomas shout her name but it was no use; she was in a blind rage.

“This is all your fault!” she shouted.

Closing your eyes, you braced for impact. Then you heard bubbling in the water. The knife fell from Lucille’s hand and you opened your eyes to see a familiar tentacle. Lucille backed away, terrified as Oberon came out from the depths, his golden eyes filled with anger. The octopus lashed out and grabbed her by the waist, tossing her up like she weighed nothing. Thomas ran to your side, watching as Oberon broke Lucille’s waist. Once she was dead, Oberon threw her into the ocean and got closer to the dock.

“Oh, Oberon,” you said sadly, “I missed you. I’m so sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”

“No,” Thomas grabbed your hand. “Y/N, please don’t talk like that.”

“I’m sorry Thomas,” you said, pressing your head to his. “I’m too late. I never told you that I love you.”

“Too late? What do you mean?”

“She’s talking about the price for her legs,” a familiar voice said.

You turned around to see Oberon held Morwenna the sea witch on one tentacle. The crab woman stepped onto the dock and walked over to you.

“Morwenna?” you asked.

“You see,” Morwenna crouched down, “For a merfolk to stay on the surface with their human love, they must confess their feelings and those feelings must be recioprated. If not, they turn into seafoam.”

“What? Y/N, why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Thomas asked.

“I didn’t want you to fake your feelings,” you said, “But it’s okay. I made peace with what is going to happen to me.”

“Oh, you needn’t be dramatic dear,” Morwenna reached into a pouch around her waist, “You won’t be going anywhere. Here, eat this.”

Morwenna offered you a pearl and you popped it into your mouth. It burst, releasing a bitter liquid into your mouth. You gagged.

“What was that?” Thomas asked.

“For her wound,” Morwenna said. “Now, stand up dear.”

Your confusion was growing but Morwenna seemed so calm. Thomas stood up and offered his hand. You took it and found your legs were working. In fact, they felt firm.

“I don’t understand,” you said, “I was too late.”

“No, you weren’t,” Morwenna grinned, pointing to Thomas, “His confession saved you.”

“It did? So, can I stay?” you turned to Thomas, “With you?”

“Y/N,” Thomas caressed your face, “From the moment I saw you, I adored you. I’ve been wanting to tell you how much I loved you for days but I was too afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” you asked.

“Afraid of rejection, afraid Lucille would find you,” he said, “But now she’s gone. Please Y/N, stay with me. I love you.”

Oberon suddenly burbled, his big, round eyes tinged with sadness.

“Oh Oberon,” you smiled at him, “I’ll never forget you, how could I? You saved us both. I will visit you, I promise. But my home is on the surface now.”

Oberon reached out his tentacle and rubbed your face. He then playfully grabbed Thomas' hat, pushing it down on his face.

“He’s saying he trusts you,” you told Thomas.

“Well then,” Thomas fixed his hat, “Thank you Oberon. I promise I’ll keep her safe, no matter what the costs.”

“Happy endings all around,” Morwenna said, “I’m so happy things worked out for you dear.”

“But it wouldn’t have been possible without you,” you said, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“No thanks are necessary,” Morwenna walked back towards the sea, “I’ll tell your father you're safe. He’ll probably come to visit so be on the lookout. Farewell you two.”

You waved goodbye as Morwenna climbed onto Oberon’s head and they departed. When they were gone, you turned to Thomas.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you too,” he returned.

And finally, you kissed him.

#Rootbeer Writes #Crimson Peak #Crimson Peak AU #Sir Thomas Sharpe #Thomas Sharpe #Thomas Sharpe x Reader #Female Reader #Self Insert #tw: incest mention #mermaid #AU

7 notes · View notes

dragonoffantasyandreality · 3 years

Text

Kamen Rider Thunderbirds Chapter 3 (Bit 5 End)

Prologue, Bit 1, Bit 2 Updated, Bit 3, Bit 4

Finaaaly! I finished Chapter 3! :D

Big thank you for @janetm74 for the beta read, thank you @myladykayo for helping me through the story. Tagging @willow-salix, @katblu42, @gumnut-logic and @dreamycloud)

So let’s end this chapter, right? :)

-0-0-0-

“So you are saying that you’ve been attacked by some unknown monsters?” Jeff asked, his fingers gripping the paper. The bandaged up boys nodded.

“Yeah. And we believed it was a set up." Virgil pointed out.

"It seemed like deliberate sabotage by those… things, so we came in and fell into their trap." Scott theorized. He continued explaining: in fact, the way the fires started was suspicious, the flames appeared in random parts of the building, according to the recent investigations. And according to the testimonies of the rescuees who were trapped underground, the humanoid fire-monsters appeared out of nowhere and they are the ones who started the whole fires, and then… they were simply waiting. The field commander finished that the poor fellas acted as bait for the monsters to finish him and his brothers off.

"Long story short: they were after our heads apparently." Gordon concluded.

Their father had a look of extreme concern. To think those threats with impossible yet fantastic power to bring down a building were after his sons was very alarming and pose a threat to their lives and security. Here he thought that time where they had to save the world from a mind-controlling alien sphere was a close call!

"Thank heavens the Kamen Riders came and saved us!" Alan chirped, his ocean eyes sparkled like stars with memories.

"Yes. You guys are very lucky. And those rescuees as well." Agreed Jeff, "However, we don’t know if we could trust those bug-eyed warriors.”

“But dad! They saved us!” Argued the youngster, “They saved us from these creatures! I am pretty sure they are our allies! Friends even!”

"Alan! We don't even know who they are!" Pointed out Gordon.

The young blonde crossed his arms and gave the most dramatic pout. Jeff sighed, gently shaking his head with a slight sympathetic smile, “They may be on our side now, but we still don’t know what their intentions are. Especially when they got those… other-worldly powers. So take their alliance with caution.” he said sternly.

The brothers nodded in agreement, including Alan who simply cocked his head to the side. They did tell John about the whole thing, in which the middle brother had mixed feelings. Concerned, relieved and interested. But mostly worried.

After the debrief, the atmosphere was a lingering silent worry.

“Hey kiddo, don’t be upset.” Gordon smiled optimistically.

“You sure?” Huffed his youngest brother.

“Yeah. As much as I am suspicious about them, I am also curious.” his innocent smile turned into a cheeky smirk.

Alan’s grumpy face slowly transformed into that of an excited gremlin that the redhead knew and loved, “Alright! How about we go talk to Brains? See what he thinks of this rescue.”

Gordon grinned, “Right behind ya, Sprout!”

And soon enough, the terrible two vanished through the door of the lounge, their excited feet echoed through the halls.

“What do you think of the Kamen Riders, Scott?” asked Virgil, placing a gentle hand on his older brother’s shoulder.

Scott shrugged, “I don’t know.” He was mostly worried about those monsters. Those… things. What are they after? Why do they want International Rescue dead? Of course it was only one time, but what if they do it again? He was beginning to feel dread. Being possessed by an alien was bad enough, but almost getting burned alive by monstrous animal-headed gladiators with powers to control fire was out of the question!

“You know, I do have a hunch that our bug-eyed acquaintances are on our side.” admitted Virgil, “But, I also have a feeling that we’ll meet them again, considering the circumstances.”

Scott looked back at his brother. Sky blue meets earthly brown. There was a silent conversation. An understanding. And then a nod from the eldest brother. They sat there in compassionate silence.

The quiet must’ve been killing his brother, because all of the sudden the mechanic asked, “Say, would you like to play the piano again?”

“Why’s that?” Scott raised a brow.

“My fingers are sore from fixing the Mole in a rush back there.” Virgil smiled with a little embarrassment, as he revealed his bandaged hands.

Scott gently tapped his brother’s shoulder with a chuckle. He got up from the couch and walked over to Virgil’s beloved white piano. He sat on the stool once more, opened the lid and stretched his fingers, “What should I play?”

“Anything, I don’t mind.” His musical brother shrugged, standing beside him.

As Scott thought which song to play, his mind drifted back to the moment when he looked into the eyes of the golden Rider. It seemed to him that there was something warm behind those bug-eyes… something human. Scott wondered if there's a sensitive soul behind that mask.

Maybe it was just in his mind, maybe it was not true, but it made him relax. Pressing the keys, he began playing a familiar, jazzy beat as he remembered that moment. After a few repeats of the rhyme, he went to the main part of the song.

“Ah, my favorite! Take Five!" Jeff exclaimed, "Just like you guys.” he chuckled.

Scott smiled at his father as a response. There were some remnants of his stress, but it didn't bother him as much as he was in the morning. Jeff gave him a relieved nod before continuing doing paperwork, quietly humming and tapping his foot to the beat. Virgil smiled widely at his brother before humming as well and snapping his fingers along with the melody of the immortal piece of Paul Desmond.

Scott jumped into improvising like he was here to woo the girls at a party. As he was playing, he thought back of their victory. And his tension melted away. Outside the villa, the soothing music echoed through the beautiful nature of the island and into the night sky.

-0-0-0-

The moon shone in the night sky and the cold was a constant companion. The sounds of distant cars driving through the streets could be heard from the top of the skyscrapers. On one of them stood four figures, taking their time enjoying the view from above.

The Kamen Riders were resting after the heated fight. Gills was leaning on a wall next to the entrance, between his legs lay his loyal dog. G3-X was finishing writing a report of the fight on his custom laptop. Kuuga was laying on top of the entrance, admiring the stars. And Agito was standing near the railing, staring into the lights of the city.

"Oi, Agito!" called Kuuga all of a sudden. The golden Rider turned to his best friend.

"Nando(What is it)?" asked Agito.

"Why wouldn’t you come up here and watch the stars?” suggested the red Rider, "It's beautiful up there."

"How can you see stars from here?" objected G3-X, "Ya can't see Shiitake with all those slagging city lights!"

"They can see them through their visors," scoffed Gills, making the robocop Rider whistle a sound of realization before turning back to his computer.

Raider looked up and tilted his head as if trying to see them, but after a few moments he gave up as he put his canine head back to the ground.

Agito had taken a moment to stare at the city, then moved towards the entrance, climbed and sat next to Kuuga.

"Not too cold buddy?” the red Rider asked, only to receive a shake of the head from his golden companion. The two took a moment to appreciate the stars in the cold night sky. Few stars faintly glowed in the dark sky.

"Man, can't believe we just met with International Rescue in person!" excitedly said Kuuga, "I gotta say, they are quite tough guys, ne? Especially Noodle, he looks quite young!"

"Noodle?" asked the golden rider in confusion.

"The blond kid! The one I saved from falling into a ravine and returned the gun to?" Kuuga sensed Agito raising an eyebrow that cannot be seen from the cover of his mask. "We should give them nicknames. To… you know, to know who's who we're talking about?" He explained, shrugging.

A sparkle of mirth could be faintly seen behind the faceted eyes of his friend, a warm smile could be felt radiating from his breath. "Sure...But why the blond kid 'Noodle'?"

"Because his blonde hair reminded me of noodles. And to be honest, 'Noodle' sounds kawaii~! Don’t you think he looks kawaii, ne?” A big grin was radiating from behind the mask of the red Rider. Agito laughed wholeheartedly. Kuuga continued, "The auburn hair guy; I think we'll call him 'Kuma'! He looks so serious, strong and tough, like a bear! Remind me of someone…"

The golden Rider laughed again as he nodded. "So um… shall we call the leader 'Sky Eyes'?"

Kuuga rubbed his silver chin for a bit, "Hmm…the one who pilots that big-hyper-speedy-rocket-jet thingy? Why's that?" he asked.

"Because… his eyes reminded me of the sky...” The red Rider saw the sparkling human eyes behind Agito’s red bug-like lens. Kuuga nodded, agreeing that the name was well suited for the blue sashed commander.

"What about the redhead guy? What should we call him?" asked G3-X as he looked up at the two Riders, seemingly curious.

"Clownfish..." Gills dropped the answer. There was an awkward pause. "He smelled fishy..." He deadpanned. Everyone laughed, acknowledging his typical 'I don't care, deal with it' attitude as they accepted his answer.

"Noodle, Kuma, Sky Eyes and Clownfish. Sounds good for our mystery gang of rescuers!" Kuuga clapped and rubbed his hands excitingly

Agito chuckled softly before looking back at the stars once more. The more he stared at the little faint glistening lights, the more the made him think of sky… sky eyes… the man whose eyes were always drawn to the sky.

He felt a warm feeling as he remembered those cobalt irises. He wondered why he felt like that. He barely knows that man, let alone the fact that International Rescue seemed to keep themselves secret. Maybe he'll never know. But one thing for sure, they'll cross paths again. Because of those things...

Those kaijins… they were new. He had never seen them before. And they are as aggressive and dangerous as disasters. Agito… Yuuki sensed that whatever they were, they seemed to be after International Rescue. But for what? And why?

The answer will remain unknown, for now...

-tbc-

#Kamen Rider Thunderbirds series #kamen rider #thunderbirds #kamen rider fanfiction #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 1965 #kamen rider agito #kamen rider kuuga #my fanfics #yay! I finished chapter 3! :D

8 notes · View notes

dirt-cup-draco · 4 years

Text

Hermione x Reader - Trouble

Could you do a Hermione x reader where your Harry’s sister (in the same year) and you guys are both put in the Tri-Wizard Tournament and you Hermione get in a fight and she wants you to talk to Dumbledore to get you out but you’re doing it for Harry so you stay (she’s doing this because she has a crush on you) you end up saving her in the water challenge but she’s still mad at you and then when Voldemort comes your with Harry and she admits after that she was mad bc she likes you and cares for u

A/N: I tweaked a little things but it’s not much, hope you like it!

You shook your head in disbelief. Not only had the goblet chosen Harry, but it had chosen you. Two competitors that were too young to even put their names into the goblet, and one extra competitor. There were glares and students whispering all around as the professors looked at each other, not quite sure what to do. Dumbledore was currently watching you both as if he wasn’t sure what to do with this information.

Ron clapped your back, a laugh bubbling from his lips as he congratulated you and Harry on being perfectly impossible. You two continued to amaze him, yet you didn’t feel very amazed right now. If anything, you felt sick. Of course something bad has to happen! You thought.

Trouble followed your brother, his scar might as well be a flashing target painted on his back. You knew your parents were amazing, they had to be with how people spoke of them, but you couldn’t help but feel that the Potter name was cursed. You were lucky enough that your twin had been the first to catch Voldemort’s eye. You had been left unscathed, Harry saving you as he saved himself. You two only had each other.

Which was why you sighed heavily as Hermione gripped your arm. “This is clearly a mistake! You should both speak to Dumbledore, don’t put yourselves in danger!”

Harry shrugged. “It’s a bit exciting, don’t you think, Y/N? Besides, we’ve faced more dangerous things than a friendly school competition,”

“Do you think I can convince people I was the one who got your name in the goblet?” Ron asked, wondering on how to boost his popularity.

Hermione rolled her eyes, a disgusted grimace on her features as she turned from the boys to focus her attention on you. Her gaze softened a little bit but she was still terribly tense. “Lets go talk?” She asked and you couldn’t say no.

“Yeah, of course ‘Mione,” You agreed after making sure your headmaster didn’t want to talk to you, even if he undoubtedly would call on you later. You followed behind her as you watched her back straighten impossibly more, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Once you got into the hall she leaned heavily against the wall.

“Something is wrong,”

“Obviously,” You snorted but it didn’t seem she was feeling the same way. She blew a piece of wild hair from between her eyes and you stepped forward, grabbing her hand as she let a little smile break out onto her face.

“I really do think that you should talk to Dumbledore, it isn’t right for you to be in the tournament,” She argued softly and you shrugged, squeezing her hand.

“I would, really, but I have to look after Harry. You know he won’t back down...” You reasoned but Hermione shook her head violently.

“You don’t have to do anything! Harry will be fine he’s-” she bit her tongue but you frowned, dropping her hand as you took a step back.

“What? What were you going to say?” You asked as she tried to wave it off.

“N-nothing,”

“Say it “ You demanded.

Hermione’s fire was dampened momentarily as she mumbled, “Stronger than you, Harry is stronger than you...”

“My brother is no better than me and I’m no worse than him!” You found your voice rising as your insecurity bubbled up deep in your stomach. Harry was the chosen one, the important one. He had always taken precedence and you had always been left to clean up after him.

You didn’t blame him. It was a coincidence Voldemort had seen him first but what if your brother was better than you? What if the Dark Lord had set his eyes on you first and taken your life. You were only one years old, it was a miracle Harry had managed to live. What if you didn’t have that same power or that same fight? Maybe Hermione was right...

That didn’t change the fact that you had to look out for him. Harry was your best friend and your only family. You had to make sure he was okay and that he stayed out of trouble during this tournament.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Hermione tried to say but you cut her off.

“What else could you have possibly meant?” You snapped. “I am going to help Harry and I am staying in this tournament. I know something isn’t right, I can feel it, but that means I have to be there beside him. I can’t let him get hurt, he’s all I have”

Hermione sputtered, trying to think of something to say. “You won’t even do well!” She shouted childishly, trying to find some upper hand but only feeling regret as your eyes turned to ice.

“Just leave me be,” You asked of her before you spun on your heal, headed back to the great hall to talk with Harry and Ron. Hermione stayed pressed against the cold wall and sighed loudly. She hadn’t meant to hurt you but you were being daft. It was an awful idea for you to join the tournament. You might think Harry was all you had but you had her too and she couldn’t bear to see you in danger and this entire tournament screamed trouble.

The gillyweed was, for a lack of any word, like chewing a tire covered in slime. The rubbery texture bothered your teeth and the way it slipped down your throat when you had finally given up on trying to break it down had you gagging.

“I could have found something else,” You spat out as you stood beside Harry. The only thing bringing you comfort was that he looked just as uncomfortable as you were.

“But you didnt,” He smiled back and you just rolled your eyes. “You’re welcome,”

“Whatever, be careful,” You warned gently.

You shivered on the wooden deck, the split wood rough and bothersome against your bare feet. You peaked at your competitors as they took their places, ready to dive into the depths of the black lake without any clue as to what dangers might be just underneath the surface.

You tried to relax your breathing but it was increasingly hard as your gills started forming. It was becoming uncomfortable to be above water and your chest was tight as a drum. You gasped for air. Your ears were fuzzy as the world went on around you but then suddenly Krum was leaping into the water, followed by Fleur, Cedric, and then your brother. You shuffled for a moment, almost holding yourself back.

Kids snickered nearby and you flung yourself into the lake, the shock of the cold water turning your blood to slush in your veins as your eyes adapted to what was around you, kicking your legs to propel yourself through the murky depths.

You held your wand at the ready, feeling the water move around your body in a way that alerted you to someone, or something’s, presence. Your heart was pounding violently as you let out another gasp, bubbles swirling around your head as your voice went unheard. Something had definitely touched your foot.

You swam faster, eyes peeled for any of the other competitors, finally finding Harry....and something far more daunting. Hermione and Ron, as well as Fleur’s sister, Gabrielle you believer her name was, and Cho were all floating lifelessly, tied down as Harry kept sending out spells, the light bouncing sporadically through the water’s disturbances.

Merpeople were shrieking, tridents positioned in a fearsome stance as grindylows swam around Harry. Despite all the chaos, your eyes were trained on Hermione. Her hair was spread above her, swaying gently. You would have thought it beautiful, if she was breathing. You knew she was safe, mostly, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip two uncomfortable beats as you feared the worst.

This made your fight seems so insignificant. Even more so now that months had passed. You had watched her during the ball, dancing effortlessly with Krum more beautiful than you had ever seen her.Some bitter part of you had whispered in your mind that she would have been happier dancing with you. Yet, she’d barely spared you a glance. You understood why she was upset, you didn’t want to be in this position anymore than she did but that’s how it had to be. Why couldn’t she see that?

Your eyes were torn between following Harry as he struggled to get to Ron, fighting left and right and Hermione as she danced unknowingly to the ripples of the water. Unfortunately, yet thankfully, your brother had every living things’ attention. You were being overlooked as you thought of what your next course of action was. It seemed to be decided for you however as a bulky form sped past you, in a beeline to Hermione. It was Krum, and without much struggle at all he had her free and she was floating up, up, up.

Five competitors and four hostages. Hermione had been tucked under Krum’s arm as he shot towards the surface and now only three remained. Cho, Ron and Gabrielle. Yet Fleur hadn’t made her appearance yet. You bit your lip. You had to continue with the competition and if saving the little french girl meant you would, then Fleur was out of luck. You took a fortifying breath and shot towards the girl, finding that Harry had broken free from the mass of watery beasts, going to Ron. Cedric was working at Cho’s restraints and Gabrielle was still untouched, her sister nowhere to be seen.

“You okay?” You asked cautiously as you made your way to Hermione’s shaking form, a thin towel wrapped around her. Despite having dried her hair and clothes the wind and overcast skies had her feeling chill. It seemed that had transferred to her attitude.

“Just fine.” She said snootily and you huffed in response to her haughty tone.

“You don’t look it,” You commented, begging her to just let go of this petty fight and open up to you, crack a smile, anything.

“Thanks,” Hermione hissed. “Glad to know I look awful,”

“I didn’t say that!” You felt your chance slipping away from you as she turned on her heel, nose in the air. “Mione, talk to me!” You called after her, voice cracking in distress. Her shoulders tensed at the sound of you choking up but it seemed she didn’t care enough as she carried on, making her way towards Krum. What did she see in him? He wasn’t good enough for her, he wasn’t right for her.

“They’ve been in there a while now...” Hermione said anxiously, arriving at your side silently. She picked at her fingernails, wearing them down and chewing on her lip. Her eyes were wide and worried as she observed the entrance to the maze. You had been swallowed by the shrubbery, Harry only steps in front of you as he tried to reach you when you screamed, a vine clutching your ankle and dragging you away.

“Maybe they took a wrong turn,” You snarked, eyes glued to some far off point that was anything but Hermione Granger. You were feeling strange about today, everything seemed wrong and you couldn’t put your finger on it. Hermione wasn’t really helping, especially since you anticipated whatever she had to say would turn into a fight that left you feeling worse.

“Y/N... Can we talk?”

“Oh now you want to you?” You laughed mirthlessly as the crowd around you chattered about the games, smiles on their face as Harry and Cedric pushed forward. Fleur, Krum and even you had been picked off steadily and now one of Hogwarts’ most popular pair of boys would win the goblet as well as a sensational amount of galleons.

“Don’t be like that, I just feel like something isn’t right,” She said softly.

You stared at her incredulously, “Don’t be like that? Are you serious? I have been trying to talk to you for months and now that you don’t feel good you come back... Great, good to know that I am only good for when you need something,” You bit your lip and kept your gaze averted, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes.

“That isn’t true... I need you- Well, just because I need you. You mean a lot to me-”

“Doesn’t seem that way,” You interrupted, feeling petty from the hurt you had endured. “Maybe you mean the other Potter,”

“Y/N, you aren’t your brother-”

“I’ve heard that before, but yes, please continue telling me how unlike my amazing brother I am!” You finally faced her, lips pulled up in an angry snarl.

“Oh you idiot!” She exclaimed, grabbing your face and pulling you against her, lips sliding against yours before you could even register that she was kissing you. Hermione pulled away, red faced and eyes wild but not a trace of regret. “I really like you and you mean a lot to me and I have been an absolute git the past couple months but it helped me realize just how much I care for you, so please let me apologize!”

You didn’t have words. You could only blink slowly as you watched her. Merlin she was pretty when she was angry. Her hands were still warm and a bit clammy against your cheeks.”Me too,”

“Y/N?” She asked at your vague answer.

“I-I mean, I really like you too, have for ages now. It’s why I always get so mad when you talk about Harry being better...” You admittedly pitifully.

“He’s not really my type,” She teased and you let out a laugh, the first real one you’d been able to conjure up in a while. Hermione giggled too and it sounded like music.

“How about we stop apologizing and get back to kissing?” You suggested playfully as her cheeks burned.

Unfortunately the giddy buzz in the air was cut short as Harry arrived back into the arena, Cedric Diggory laying stiff in his arms, eyes unseeing and lungs stuck without oxygen, his heart stopped, never to beat again.

His father cried out, a wild howl that chilled you to your core. You looked at Hermione, eyebrows knitted together in concern as she nodded, understanding something behind your eyes. She gripped your hand tight and led you through the shocked masses of students, Dumbledore trying to get a handle as you rushed to Harry.

You and Hermione had just found something good, something precious. But it would have to wait it seemed as you knelt beside Harry, his arms pulling at you as he finally let out a choked sob.

With one word you knew that it would be a while before you and Hermione could focus on your feelings.

“Voldemort” Harry had spoken softly, flipping your world upside down once more.

#Hermione Granger #hermione granger x reader #hermione x reader #Some fluff too #angst #anon #anon ask #ask #request #plz be gentle I havent read this book or seen this movie in quite some time haha

258 notes · View notes