“Ancient Watcher”

“And You told them “Watch and protect thy lands until the end of Times.”

And they all watched and roamed through the lands. Overseers made by Your Hands. And as Time came to pass, they met their end beneath the claws of Your Ennemies. But they will never cease to watch over Your Creation. For they are the watchers.

Though ancients and forgotten.

They have never strayed from the path.”

Tried to do something a bit different, what do you think? 


[ au’s that exist elsewhere ]

the sea was angry. the water thrashed and rolled and boiled and the sailors hung onto the rails of their ship, hanging on for dear life as they hoped that their captain would get them through this.

it happened so fast. faster than anyone could have possibly imagined. one second jared was hanging onto the ropes, his hair hanging wet in his face and then in the next blink he was gone. taken by the sea as their prisoner. as their offering.

jensen found him washed up on shore, wet and cold and bleeding and barely alive and he hovered over the man’s body, brushing his hair out of his face and pressed a light kiss to his lips, healing the wounds that scattered his body.

jensen was told the dangers of the land, of the men that walked on it. he was raised and breed to fear the ones with legs but there was something about this one that drew him in. jensen watched, waited for air to fill the man’s lungs again.

and before jared truly woke, jensen disappeared back beneath the waves, silver white scales catching the last rays of the sun.

[merman!jensen and pirate!jared au]

anonymous asked:

hi i dont know if u like star wars or not but i love ur writing and u do it so beautifully so if by chance u've seen star wars: the force awakening would u be willing to write something about rey who is a magical jedi angel child in the form of the fight me meme

rey who has always been hungry– 

well, not quite always. once, she got three full portions after a month of barely scraping by. she ate all three that night and licked the plate after and went to bed with her belly full and aching. 

the next day, when she only got a quarter, she still couldn’t quite bring herself to regret the feast. 

(not quite always– once, in blurred early memory, she remembers this: warmth and soft light, warm smiles, warm food she did not have to work for, warm hands handing her warm bowls, and her warm full belly after. 

but she does not think about that, not often.)

rey, who knows every crook and cranny of those fallen ships on jakku. she thinks of ships as fallen. she thinks of them as land creatures, sand creatures, empty spaces and echoes. 

(when she steps onto the millennium falcon and the whole thing lights up– she has never met anything more alive.) 

on the falcon, han’s freighter, the first order base– they are new and lit-up and dangerous, but they look like home. she knows the wiring of these places, what their synapses look like broken and pilfered through and laid out for market. she has climbed them like jagged cliffs. she has explored their depths and wormed through their disembowled crannies. 

the first order’s stormtroopers see corridors and hangars and galleys. but rey? 

rey sees the fuses she’d scavenged one by one, the blast doors whooshing open and closed on residual battery power as she fiddled with them (she’d wasted a whole afternoon playing and gone to sleep hungry and smiling into her pillow). 

rey sees the cliff face she scaled first at twelve, when she’d reached all the easy finds (”do you want to sit here and be a scared-of-heights baby,” she’d whispered to herself, “or do you want to eat?”).

sneaking her way through the first order’s corridors, stolen gun in hand, rey keeps thinking in the back of her head ‘everything’s sideways’

rey, who keeps telling them she has to get back to jakku. rey, who waited and waited, who keeps telling them she has to go back for the people who never came back for her. she has lived in the shell of a fallen walker, in a metal cage blistering in the sun and frozen at night, filling it up with her orange-and-white pilot yarn doll and her handfuls of scavenged flowers. she has been waiting, and surviving, and scaling the insides of dead ships, taking them apart to live. 

then the first order takes her. and she saves herself, she finds her power, she runs through the sideways living corridors of the dead sky-beasts that have fed her for years. she runs– rey, who waited, who no one ever came back for, she turns a corridor and finn is standing there, waiting. 

(no one ever comes back for her. no one ever comes. she takes old ships apart piece by piece and doesn’t think about what it would be like to fly away. she licks her plate and buries her toes in cold shady sand and tries not to remember being full. she waits, she waits and no one comes back– 

but there is a droid who needs help. there is a boy who keeps taking her hand. there is a piece-of-garbage ship that purrs under her palms and takes her away. there is a lightsaber that sings her name– a universe that sings her name– a song, a light around all of us, if she only closes her eyes and listens.)

there is a boy, standing in this sideways corridor, and he is alive and he is waiting and he came back for her. 

rey, who stops waiting. rey, who slides into the pilot seat of the falcon like she belongs there– because she does, because she belongs on a living ship, to a living universe, to a life

and it belongs to her. 

Miami/South Florida Gothic
  • Feral peacocks roam the suburbs, crying in the night. Their screams sound like children endlessly calling “Mom! Mom!” but it’s just peacocks. It’s always just peacocks.
  • Something slams hard against the boarded-up windows during a hurricane - you say it was just a tree or lawn chair, but the red stains suggest otherwise.
  • You don’t go to the beach. Only tourists go to the beach, swarming in droves, forgetting that even on overcast days, their pale skins can indeed burn. They return from the beach, scarlet and peeling. They never meet your eyes.
  • After hurricanes, sometimes you do go to the beach, searching among the washed up debris for interesting things washed ashore, ignoring the things with too many legs or geometries that suggest body plans unknown to man.
  • When you do go to the beach, you walk slowly,  carefully sandaled to protect your feet against man-o-war tentacles that lie hidden in the sand, dead for days but still able to sting. Even dead things can hurt you. Especially dead things.
  • You walk along the sandy bottom offshore, shuffling your feet in the sand to warn creatures of your coming. A stingray the size of a manhole lifts out of the sand in front of you, rising from the floor like a UFO, before slowly undulating away, tail flowing behind it as one last warning.
  • The classroom iguana disappears during a storm. You search all over for him, but he is nowhere to be found. After a week of mourning, he falls through the ceiling tile and into the music classroom, looking substantially larger than when he went missing.
  • Your school has a whole week where for one hour a day, you learn about dangerous creatures and how to avoid them, of how to run from alligators and when a stick isn’t a stick at all. You tell your cousins, who live out of state, as if this were a normal thing that happened all over the country. You don’t notice their horrified looks. 
  • Your dog is huddled in the corner of the porch, whining. A cane toad is eating your food, and eyeing your dog like they may be next. You start to wonder what happened to the neighbor’s dog when it disappeared last month.
  • “BOW-kuh”, they drawl, with their plumped lips and skin drawn too tight over their faces, their bodies more plastic than flesh, their skin tanned leather over silicone and bone, creatures not quite human but attempting to pass as such.  “We’re from BOW-kuh.”
  • The pelicans swoop down and fly off with squirming seagulls and pigeons in their pouches.  They eye you, as if trying to determine if you’d fit, too, and wondering how you’d taste.
  • There is a gator blocking your garage. There was a gator blocking your garage yesterday. It has been five days since you have been able to leave the house.
  • Kingdom: Animalia
  • Phylum: Echinodermata
  • Class: Echinoidea

Sand dollars are flattened and disk-shaped and have five rows of tube feet which allow for extremely slow locomotion. The narrow elongated holes in the sand dollar test (shell) are lunules, which serve as channels to help move food from the aboral surface to the oral surface and the mouth. 

Photograph from:

demonsgold  asked:

It was a phrase he'd become well acquainted with shouting around Nightlight, often earning him at least one bite mark. "DON'T EAT THAT!"

Almost out of spite, Nightlight crunches down on the splintered bone he’d wrestled away from the hissing sand-creature now curled around Natt’s feet.

The smug rascal drifts up out of reach then, tipping over to watch the Darkling upside-down from his new vantage point.

He’d won his prize, fair and square! What would Natt do now?

You're Asleep.

(I just wrote this I’m sorry it’s so bad ahh)

You’re asleep, and your hair is tangled and your vision is blurred. You don’t know what to do, and you don’t want to know what you should do. You look up at the stars, softly dotted in haphazard fashion, lining the cerulean skies. You look down and feel grains of sand under and over your feet. You sit down.

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