Monterey Bay Aquarium
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
No title available
No title available
Kiana Khansmith
if i look back, i am lost
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
#extradirty
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Three Goblin Art
almost home
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
styofa doing anything
Sweet Seals For You, Always
YOU ARE THE REASON
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Misplaced Lens Cap
tannertan36
roma★
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from Iraq
seen from Georgia
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from Kenya
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Germany
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Senegal
seen from Norway
seen from United States
seen from United States
@ofbindings
"I’m Ei—–"
No. That’s not who you are anymore.
”..Elise. My name is Elise. What’s yours?”
❝ Patroclus. But everyone calls me Pat. Elise is a pretty name. ❞
Even if he is pretty sure that she might be lying about that part, at least.
The growling does perturb Killie a little, and he pauses, leaning back and kneeling in front of him. If he were to lean forward, instead, he would find himself face to face with the wolf, able to sink his hands into its fur. His head tilts; he hears the scrape of claws against the ground and he wonders if Pat is about to lunge for him. Not Pat. The wolf. But Killie doesn’t think they’re too different - he can see it in the wolf’s eyes, the slightest hint of recognition.
❝ Pat? ❞
The noise that the boy makes is not one he knows, the wolf doesn't think. The growl grows louder, warning him to stay back, hackles rising as the wolf slowly rises to his feet. He is larger than the boy that sits on the floor, & if he were to pull against the chain, he would be able to bite a hand as it reaches out. But to injure it would do no good, & yet the wolf stays standing, waiting.
Gold eyes are yet curious, & slowly his hackles go back, lips covering his teeth once more. The growl still seems to hang in the air, an echo, but the wolf is not paying any heed to anything but the boy.
Killie wants to remember. Not just the good stuff, he wants to remember all of it. The pain and the anguish as well as the love, and the joy, because that’s what makes a life. And he wants to remember the life he had with Patroclus. Even if it wasn’t a particularly nice one, at times, he’d like it all the same.
He presses a kiss to the top of Pat’s head in answer, glad that he’s not upset with him for not remembering. He knows; he knows they’re different. That the world is different, that their lives are different. But if there’s one thing he wants to keep the same it’s that he gets to have Pat in his arms.
❝ I know. But I—- I’m glad I found you. ❞
That much is true, & Pat smiles softly in return. To have found each other despite all that has lain in their way is nothing short of a miracle, truly. A turn of his head, & he is kissing Killie once more, the memories of their past to rest for a moment more. He tastes sweet, like the sun, & the boiled sweets he used to suck as a child. Hands go to Killie's hair, warm & gentle as he tugs playfully at the golden curls. Gods, how could he have ever forgotten all of this? It feels like his soul has been put back together.
❝ So am I. ❞
The words are barely more than a hum uttered against the mouth of Achilles, followed by kisses that increase in their frequency, in their intensity. A slow shiver brings sparks of pleasure down his spine as their tongues slide together, & he can suddenly see a few other advantages to being sat in Killie's lap.
The sound of bones clicking and crunching, of flesh tearing, fills the basement, and Killie wants to recoil, but he’s morbidly curious. He doesn’t lean in, doesn’t make a sound, but he stares with wide blue eyes as Pat changes into the wolf. It’s odd; he knows it’s Pat in there. His eyes are gold and his far dark, and even though he tugs and he snarls Killie still finds himself drawn in. When the wolf, Pat, throws his head down, Killie inches forward almost unconsciously, fascinated by what he sees.
Teeth are bared in a low growl that rumbles through the belly as the human shifts closer. The wolf does not move however, still laid down upon the cool floor. It seems as though he does not truly view the human as a threat, not even as he inches forward. Still, the wolf is wary of instinct, claws tugging dark marks on the floor as they dig in. The boy does look ---- oddly familiar, as a member of a pack might. But he does not smell like pack, & it is this discord that leaves the wolf motionless as he tries to understand which part of his soul he should listen to.
"Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that. Only the wounded can reveal what is it that makes them ache.”
❝ Oh! In which case, I'm pretty sure I'm okay everywhere else.
---- what's your name? ❞
If it were up to Killie he wouldn’t be chained to the wall in the first place; Killie would just make sure to put him outside or something. Create a trail of bread crumbs with the steak they have in the freezer. But it’s not up to Killie, and so Pat is chained to the wall, and Killie is inhaling the basement’s dust as he reads.
❝ I’m not going anywhere. ❞
He presses pink lips into a thin line, and though he doesn’t scoot any closer, he does set down his book, upturned on the floor to keep his place.
❝ Pat. I’m not leaving you. ❞
Now he wants to move closer. He catches the gleam of gold pupils and feels his heart race. He doesn’t, doesn’t shift too far, but he does reach out to squeeze his hand carefully.
❝ If it gets too dangerous I’ll go.❞
The change comes quickly, as it always does. One moment, he feels soft fingers curl about his hand, & the next he is shrinking away, teeth bared, shivering as his back arches. It is a gruesome sight, he is sure, flesh & bones realigning to those of a wolf. He whines softly, one last remnant of himself, before the wolf is all that he knows. Finding himself chained around the neck, he growls at the human nearby, despite the odd way his scent feels familiar. After several minutes of tugging at the chain & finding it unwavering, the wolf flops down with his chin on his paws, golden eyes still fixed upon the human who dares sit so close.
Pat is, in fact, pliable under his hands, and so Killie pulls him into his lap and wraps his arms around him, hands sure and steady as they cling to him. Whether he’s holding him there or holding him together Killie doesn’t know, but he knows that this is enough, for now. It doesn’t matter which, at leas in this moment.
❝ Barely. It’s—- It’s my major. I know the story. I only remember a little bit—- ❞
He feels guilty. Pat, quite obviously, remembers far more than Killie does. All he can remember is the beach, endless races across warm sand and sitting together hen one of them tired. He can remember nights spent on a slat in a cave at the top of a mountain, limbs tangled together, hands entwined. And he can remember fighting; the glory of it, the adrenaline rush and the buzz in his veins. Perhaps he won’t admit to that last part, though.
❝ I’m sorry. ❞
He wishes he could remember more. Instead he presses a kiss to Pat’s forehead and holds him, breathing in his scent.
He allows himself to be held close, & hopes that one day Achilles will remember the old life they shared. If he only remembers a little ---- maybe he has been spared the pain. That would be only a small blessing, though.
❝ Don't be sorry. ❞
His whisper is quiet, murmured into Killie's neck. Instead of telling him what he does know, he stays silent now. It would not do for them to repeat their old mistakes by following the past. That was always the way of the legends, was it not? In their haste to avoid their fates, they walked the very path they had tried to turn from.
❝ We're different now. ❞
ofbindings
Killie remembers the first full moon. Of course, back then he had only noted the moon because he thought it was pretty. He had looked at it and smiled and thought, hm, yes, that’s nice, but he had carried on walking. Headphones in, college thesis tucked under his arm. The mugging had lasted all of ten seconds before the attacker was being pulled away, and screams rang in Killie’s ears. And he’d ran, of course he had. But he had been caught up by a rather large, rather rabid looking dog.
He knows a fair bit more now than he does then.
Their building has a cellar that no one uses, and so Killie has decided that down there will work for what he has in mind; the moonlight is only just visible through the tiny windows along the top wall, and he doesn’t think any of it actually reaches Patroclus; whether or not that’ll help, Killie doesn’t know.
He sits close by, but just out of reach, his copy of To Kill A Mockingbird in hand. He reads aloud to Pat, but as he turns the page, he stops.
❝ Will you please relax? It’s going to be fine. ❞
Patroclus looks rather miserable, chained to the wall at his own request. He refuses to hurt Achilles, as lost to his own instincts as he will be. A werewolf is not a creature prone to compassion, & he did not recognise Achilles really when he was in that form. As Killie attempts to reassure him, Pat just rolls his eyes, trying to ignore how his heart thunders.
❝ You don't know that. You should go, leave me here. ❞
A small noise between a growl & a human sound of irritation rumbles through his chest, & he glances up at the tiny window where he can see the moon beginning to rise. It's so beautiful, but now that he has Achilles once more, it terrifies him.
❝ Just ---- just go. I'll be okay, on my own. ❞
He rests his back against the hard wall, eyes glowing gold as he closes them, teeth growing sharper as the light of the moon touches his shaking hands.
❝ Please. ❞
"Whenever I hear the calling of the wounded. Like a voice, in my head. The louder the voice, the more they need me. —– are you hurt anywhere else?”
❝ I don't think so. I guess you would know better than I. ❞
( but what about werewolf patroclus? )
"I healed you, o b v i o u s l y.”
❝ Oh. Um. Okay. How often do you do that? ❞
Killie isn’t even sure how it happens. He stands so close to Pat that he can taste him on the air he breaths, can feel his heart beating, keeping time with his own, and then he’s gone.
Not far. Not far, Killie reminds himself, as he watches him fall to the floor. Not far.
Not like before.
He drops to his knees in front of him, so close once more but apparently not close enough, never close enough. He reaches out to lace his fingers with Pat’s, peppering his face with kisses. He hopes they’re soothing; he has no idea what to do. His heart aches in his chest and he wants to cry, wants to pull Pat into his lap, wants to remember—- he wants everything and nothing, nothing but Patroclus.
❝You did. You did and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. You’re alright now. You’re okay. ❞
He attempts to pull him forward, into his arms, to comfort him. He’s not sure if he’s being comforting or upsetting, bringing more back, but he’s not going anywhere until Pat tells him to.
he is still trembling even as Killie drags him into his lap, buries his face to his neck with a sigh & a quiet sound of distress. Each kiss pressed to his face reminds him that he is in a life that is not so cruel as their last one. All they have suffered before does not have to be so again.
❝ Do you remember? ❞
He both hopes that Killie does & doesn't, that he can understand, but to have him free from this pain would be a blessing as well. Instead of the memories that taunt him, he focuses on the feel of Killie's hand holding his own, an anchor to a reality that he much prefers. He clings on tightly, desperate to be as close as possible to him. It is foolish to think that their fates are anything but entwined, & to lose him now would be to lose all of himself once more.
Killie presses a few soft, swift kisses to Pat’s temples, curling his fingers in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. He holds on to him, and it’s his words that make him think. Studying Greek classics because the likes the irony.
❝ No, no. I’ve lost you. ❞
It’s a flash of a memory but nothing more and it sinks like a stone in his stomach. He tugs him close, melting into Pat’s body, pushing off from against the door with just how hard he clings to him. He strokes his hair, presses kisses to his temples and holds on to him, making assurances he knows are not promises, but ones he plans to keep anyway.
❝ You won’t. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not letting go of you, not ever. Not ever. ❞
And it feels right.
& suddenly he can taste blood in the back of his throat. He can hear the sounds of the dying, of a horse crashing to the ground ----
I have lived before.
There is a spear sticking out of his chest, blood pouring from the wound like wine. The armour he wears is not his, & he tugs the helm from his head as he falls to his knees, Achilles, I am sorry ----
Pat staggers back into the present, finding himself kneeling on the floor with his hands pressed to his head, entire frame shaking.
❝ You ---- you lost me. I died with your name. ❞
& I was buried by your side.
“It’s all anyone knows how to do. Even the stars are only doing so much as they can.”
❝ That's ---- actually really reassuring. Thanks. I'm Pat, by the way. Patroclus. ❞
e a s y. Not even a click of her fingers. The bruise was gone just like that.
"Better?"
❝ I ---- what did you do? I mean, thank you. It's much better, now. ❞
He holds on to Pat like he is the only thing keeping him there, his only anchor. He doesn’t dare move too far away from him, not even more than inch, because there’s a sense of coming home that he can’t shake.
❝ I don’t either. ❞
Soft kisses, not heated and heavy like the ones in the bar, are what he shares with Pat now. It feels far more intimate, anyway. His lips brush against Pat’s as he leans in, reluctant to put any space between them.
❝ We’ll figure it out. ❞
Pat only removes his mouth from Killie's in order to tuck his face in the warmth of his neck, lips to the pulse that beats there. His arms wrap loosely about Killie's waist, slipping beneath his shirt in a need to feel the silky skin beneath.
❝ I feel like I've lost you before. ❞
His voice shakes, & he digs bruises into Killie's side as he holds on a little too tightly. He buries his face more securely into his neck, a quiet noise that is not quite a sob being released.
❝ I don’t ever want to lose you again. ❞
Steve waits to see Pat nod before he moves, thumbing at the head of his cock whilst he licks at the base, pressing open mouth kisses along his length. He reaches over, grabbing the lube from the bedside drawer and whilst he sucks a hickey into Pat’s thigh he coats his fingers in it. He looks up, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock as he swallows him, relaxes his throat to take him in. He feels it’ll be a welcome distraction from the finger that pushes into him, sinking slowly, carefully, up to the first knuckle.
The intrusion of one, slick finger is a little much at first, & Pat squirms in response. But, he is soon distracted by how Steve takes his cock in his mouth ---- obviously on purpose, but Pat is not complaining. Surrounded by hot, wet heat, he curls his hands in Steve's hair, begging for ---- he doesn't know. What is coming out of his mouth sounds like utter nonsense, but all he knows is that he's never felt anything this fucking wonderful in his life.
❝ O--Oh, god, Steve. ❞
