#landseil

[quesneliar]

TKLUTSCEMBER Day 5 | Krampus

Hahaaaaaaa....I just want to draw krampus Ned (?) today..so 🧍‍♂️ enjoy!

[vampirenoibat]

i like him

1. "Sometimes I wonder how I taste" "I can help with that" -> "Monsieur!!"

2. Conseil

"...in spite of having a name meaning 'Advice,' never gave any even when asked."

3. "He's right behind me isn't he" "HUH?!" (Giant squid)

4. "That shock threw you as well as me into the sea?" "No; but being in my master's service, I followed him."

5. "CONSEIL! Don't kill a man over a shell!!" ("I would have preferred him break my shoulder...")

[marionetteangie]

I decided to write a little Valentine’s Nemonnax because @nautilusgays mentioned something about stuff for them for the special day so we ball :)

(Love your content haha)

Hope you like my first attempt at writing them!

(I wrote it a day early because I got an idea haha)

The day felt as normal as usual, as normal as it always was since those days when he had been forced to leave his haven under the sea. The photo still sat on his bedside, that photo of the depths no men had ever traversed, the wonders of which most countrymen wouldn’t even consider pondering, going about their daily lives. And yet, he couldn’t adjust. Reaching for his glasses from the bedside table, Pierre sat up in bed, the soft sheets covering his knees as he debated whether it was even worth getting up today. He heard the knock, though, and shook his head. “Come in, Conseil.” The blonde man, though for Pierre he always looked little more than a lad, walked in with a tray of food, crepes piled high and covered in chocolate sauce, which had been conveniently placed in a heart shape, befitting the day. Yes, Pierre could deny it no longer. February 14th, Valentine’s Day. “I thought Master would prefer this.” Conseil smiled, Pierre shaking his head at how he was always referred to in third person, Conseil never really changed, and his consistency delighted his master. “Thank you, Conseil.” Pierre started, before noticing just how Conseil was dressed. He wasn’t in his usual waistcoat and shorts, but instead was dressed in a much more formal attire, a coat stretching all the way past his knees and a suit and tie decorating him, as well as a flower badge he’d pinned to his jacket. He almost looked like a bridegroom, amusingly. “What’s the occasion, lad?” Pierre smiled, Conseil flushing slightly, which looked good against his blonde hair and pale skin, it particularly stood out when he tried to meet his master’s eyes, only to turn away again in embarrassment. “Well…with Master’s permission…” Conseil knotted his hands together and pulled them apart repeatedly, clearly trying to find the words, “As Master knows, Friend Ned…is visiting Paris this week. And he wanted to go sightseeing in a rather unconventional manner…” Conseil stammered, Pierre getting some idea of what this was and softening up. “With Master’s permission… Friend Ned has invited me to visit the city and dine on the Seine.” Conseil finally managed, though his ears had even gone red at this point. With a soft smile, Pierre nodded. “Of course, Conseil. Go and enjoy yourself.” He giggled slightly, watching as Conseil took in his words with delighted surprise. “Thank you, Master!” He bowed, and then right before exiting the room, turned again. “Master will be okay? The hardships of this day are many, usually Master spends it in my company. If Master wishes to continue the tradition, I will inform Friend Ned without complaint.” Conseil spoke, Pierre feeling his chest tighten slightly. “No, there’s no need. Enjoy your day, Conseil. I’ll see you tonight.” Pierre smiled, and Conseil departed the bedroom, and not long into his food did Pierre hear the door to the main house close, signifying his servant’s departure. With a relieved sigh at finally being alone, he realized his knife had split the pancakes in two, and in turn, the heart. How fitting, the man of a broken heart broke everything he touched.

Getting dressed into a plain outfit, he hadn’t worn that familiar blue suit since departing the Nautilus, it was reserved for Nemo alone, whenever he might next see him. If ever. He had to remind himself there were no certainties. Nothing has been certain since that day. With a sigh, he brushed his hair, staring at himself in the mirror. There he was, braiding his hair instead of putting it in a ponytail, it was so long that it was easy enough to manage, though he remembered how Nemo had insisted he help him sometimes, especially after they went diving and it became all frizzy. Though the mental image made him snicker slightly, there was a sadness in his eyes, and without thinking, he reached for the photograph on his bedside, putting it in his pocket and bringing it with him. Heading out the door of his home, he wandered around for a while, noticing young couples on dates. Girls were giggling as they clung to the arms of their lovers, and the men tipped their hats in a rather charming fashion, some occasionally spinning their girls in their arms. And then, Pierre felt it. That hand on his shoulder. That quiet, knowing presence. Nemo was beside him. He looked good, too, considering the last time Pierre had seen him was when he’d been getting caught up in that frightening maelstrom. Turning to meet his eyes, he saw that same old beard, that simple white jumper, he was dressed more casually today, befitting the atmosphere. Pierre felt a smile dance on his lips. As they walked, there were no words needing to be said, just a simple look of adoration. The sounds of the Seine echoed around them, gulls cawing at passing tourists, boats steaming along the water and blowing their horns occasionally as a merry greeting. Pierre felt his spirits lift. Perhaps today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As they walked together, Nemo occasionally glanced at Pierre, who adjusted his glasses and suit, worrying about all the little things like the fact there might still be some chocolate sauce on his lips or that he had some stray hairs in his braid. Nonetheless, they quietly walked. Nemo didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. Pierre wondered if he even would, considering the man’s hatred for land, though…could it be he had pushed it aside for him? That Nemo was so infatuated with his company that he’d step foot on terra firma just to see him? Blushing brightly at the thoughts running through his head, Pierre glanced up at Nemo, who was now looking ahead of him. Pierre turned to see what had captured the man’s attention, and nodded upon realizing. Of course, the magnificent cathedral, Notre Dame. The subject of a most lengthy novel by Victor Hugo, one which Pierre found himself reading on occasion, feeling a sense of escapism in the story where so many threads all came together befittingly. Approaching the cathedral, it wasn’t in sermon at the moment, so it was permissible to enter and marvel at the beautiful architecture of such a grandiose place. There was the famous rose window, adorned with figures of Christian origin, and the great reflection it cast down onto the floor below, where Pierre found himself standing. Amid those beautiful reflections of light, dancing off his dark suit, he looked angelic, and felt for once as if he had a place in this world, the world that treated him as an outcast due to his own withdrawn nature. As the dance of light continued, he saw how his hands were enveloped in the rosy rosette, and no doubt his face too, which was probably as pink as when he blushed toward Nemo. In this small moment of peace, Pierre turned his face up toward the window properly, and wondered if God might be giving him mercy, in this state of darkness and despair that befell him each day. Though their relationship was unconventional and forbidden, a secret of the time spent under the sea, where there was no religion nor rules, and yet he could feel the palpable presence of something, something providing him comfort and stability. Turning back toward Nemo, they wandered through the grandiose church together, side by side, and Pierre swore he saw a glimmer of curiosity sparkling in Nemo’s eyes at the building’s intricate design, as his eyes danced around observing each detail. Surely, a man of Nemo’s education could list off every detail, every component of how this place was constructed, but he needn’t speak to prove his wisdom, his quiet intellect was what helped him survive, after all. Unlike Pierre, who was well known for his job at the Museum of Natural History, Nemo had nothing to prove to anyone except himself, and delighted in sharing information to any who might listen, which Pierre gladly would. Strung along like a marionette amid all the confusion of daily life, what he’d give to hear Nemo rattle on about cetaceans or history was insurmountable, he’d do anything just to sit in that parlor again, looking out the circular window as he was practically lectured in subjects with which he’d never dreamed of becoming so familiar. And as they departed the church, Pierre looked at Nemo again, and smiled warmly, feeling as if his spirits had been lifted.

“Do you know the legend of St Valentine, Captain?” Pierre finally spoke, and Nemo gave a small shake of the head. Pierre wondered if he was merely shy or overwhelmed with the crowd, but nevertheless took his signal and smiled. “The legend states that during a dark time, Cruel Claude, or Claudius Gothicus, forbade marriage as too many soldiers were refusing to go to war in favor of staying with their wives and children. However, Valentine encouraged people to partake in the sacrament, and even healed the eyesight of the Judge’s daughter before his execution. It is said he also wrote her a letter signed “from your Valentine”, which is why we send cards.” Pierre explained, Nemo raising an eyebrow to indicate he was listening. Smiling at the thoughts of marriage and saviors, Pierre found that they were walking toward an aquarium, a place Nemo seemed to take interest in, for reasons that needed no explanation. As they continued to traverse silently, Pierre began to wonder if Nemo might be thinking about the legend, and what it meant for them. They were so close to lovers that night in Atlantis, where they had been without torch to illuminate them, without eyes to watch them, without anything but themselves and their diving suits, and the mystical city where remnants of the past lay dormant, and a volcano bubbled underneath. Indeed, Pierre’s own heart had felt much like a volcano that night, being together with Nemo and alone, if he could breathe underwater he might have kissed him then and there, but such wasn’t the case. He wondered if Nemo might think of the blind girl as himself and Pierre as Valentine, as the man who restored his sight, or at least tried. A sadness washed over Pierre at the memories of that final night. How he’d felt that fear of Nemo, how one word from the man would have stopped him from running away, as doing so felt like severing his own head. Maybe that was why Nemo was silent now, to avoid chaining Pierre any longer, burdening his conscience with words that neither of them could say. But as they reached the aquarium, all those thoughts were silenced.

The reflections of water danced along the ground, and Nemo took the lead, strolling ahead of Pierre as his white shirt reflected the water back at it, his hand trailing against the cool glass of the tanks. Nemo watched the fish swim in and out of their small homes, his gaze wasn’t malicious per se, but he seemed slightly concerned for the animals in captivity. Pierre followed, staying behind him as Nemo continued to walk, the two watching the fish performing their usual routine of swimming in and out of nooks and crevices, looping around the structures where they were situated. The two of them finally reached a tank with an internal viewing area, and it was surprisingly quiet, so both Pierre and Nemo entered, it was shaped much like a tunnel, and required them to bend down in order to fit. As vibrant fish and turtles swam overhead, Nemo turned to look at Pierre, who met his gaze. In this light, Nemo looked iridescent, like he was a part of the sea himself, intangible as a sunbeam and fleeting as a wave, evasive and solitary. The two of them sat there for a moment, surrounded by creatures of the sea, almost as if they were back on the Nautilus, though there was an element of sorrow to the encounter too. These creatures were contained, living in glass tanks that forced them to be observed and watched by the outside world, and Pierre found a sense of understanding and sympathy in his heart for the poor creatures. Every so often at work, a colleague would joke about how he’d disappeared and not speak a word of his travels, they’d laugh at his misfortune and try and pry answers from his lips, and jeer at him when he refused to tell. Indeed, it was a lonely world for Pierre Aronnax, and it was worsened still by a realization of his disdain for the status quo. But with Nemo by his side, everything felt fine again.

Exiting the aquarium, Pierre had an idea of where he wanted to take Nemo next, the two walking the distance to the Louvre. As they entered the Denon wing, Nemo seemed to take interest in a few paintings, one in particular being the Mona Lisa with her enigmatic smile that captivated all who saw her. Whether she was happy or sad depended on the angle, and the slightly disconcerting look on her face made for an intriguing subject to paint. As the two strolled past the art, they reached The Wedding at Cana, depicting the moment when Jesus turned water into wine, that miracle that Pierre had learned about as a boy and had been so fascinated by. Growing up Christian meant absorbing the teachings he had been taught to believe were fact, though as he studied science he found inconsistencies, and further inconsistencies upon entering the Nautilus. He moved further, and found Liberty Leading the People, depicting the beautiful Marianne surrounded by men of all social classes, France in all its fine glory. He traced his hand over the plaque. Where was his liberty? Confined in this glass cage of a country, mocked and humiliated by his peers, unable to see his lover. On seldom occasion, Pierre had found the pain unbearable, and considered the unthinkable, but could never bring himself to commit such an atrocity, if only for Conseil’s sake and the potential to see Nemo again in this lifetime. And right now, in this moment, he was so glad to be alive. Appreciating the wonders of his country anew, touring Nemo around them in this quiet, simple fashion, on such a beautiful day… it made him feel much better. Approaching the next room, they found themselves face to face with the Crown Jewels themselves, heralded by an array of paintings that gave Pierre an idea of the last place he wanted to go this evening. As he looked at Nemo in this room, the captain almost looked radiant, like he belonged in one of these paintings, which Pierre would try to replicate if he had any skill in the arts. Alas, though he had tried, he could never quite capture the figure of Nemo that haunted his dreams. The stray hairs of his beard would be misaligned. The face would be slightly wrong. The lips would be drawn offside. It bothered him that he could never capture his memories visually, it was like chasing a dream.

For their final activity, and Pierre had no doubt that by now, Conseil and Ned were sharing a meal over the waters of the Seine, they headed to the Opera Garnier. It was a marvelous building, home to some of the most famous entertainment, and befitting tonight they were performing the opera Romeo and Juliet, Pierre feeling his heart tug at the thought of witnessing such a heavy production. Nevertheless, a nod of Nemo’s head soon swayed him, and he entered the building, marveling at the beautiful architecture and paintings on every surface. As the opera began, Pierre used his little glasses to watch closer, and became so drawn into the action and story that he didn’t notice the moment Nemo slipped away. But by the end of the production, when he felt tears running down his face at that solemn ending, as the last note was sung, Pierre couldn’t see Nemo. Suddenly frantic, he jumped out of his seat, trying to find any trace of the captain, reaching into his pockets for the tickets from each event. But…there were only single tickets. Pierre felt tears swim in his vision. Had he really felt so lonely that he’d needed to envision a depiction of his beloved beside him? It explained why Nemo seldom spoke, why they wouldn’t hold hands, or touch… And as Pierre began the journey home, he felt much like Juliet, stabbed straight through the heart with the knowledge that he’d never be able to recapture what he’d lost that day, when he’d decided to flee with his companions. Turning to look back at the Opera Garnier, Pierre sighed. In the dimness of the streetlights, a faint rain began to pour, and he reached into his pockets one more time, checking the tickets and then pulling out his photograph. Holding it close to his chest, silently and solemnly, he began the journey home.

Reaching home, Pierre discovered that Conseil was still not back, which was to some extent relieving. Quietly, he headed up to his room, putting his breakfast tray from the morning away downstairs, and was about to change into his nightclothes, when something suddenly caught his eye. There, on his desk, was a letter. Reaching to pick it up, Pierre hardly dared to hope when he noticed the wax seal. Pulling out the paper inside, he read it, it was few words, but they said all they needed to. Finding he was already crying whilst reading it, Pierre put on his gramophone, playing a record of organ music he’d picked up some time ago, and imagining Nemo was speaking the words aloud to him.

“To my Valentine, thank you for giving me back my sight, and allowing me to see the most important things again. I love you.”

Refs for my designs for the characters (Nemo’s reflection is in the organ, I imagine the James Mason version)

[poe-of-the-odd]

The worms ate my brain! Unfortunately, I decided to write! Please ignore how it was written and maybe enjoy what was written :)

Small Landseil .. Thing ?

Ned Land shifts his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, questions weighing heavy on his tongue. He half-consciously stares holes into Conseils back; his eyes follow the movement of the man's shoulder as he diligently writes his daily journal.

Suddenly, the movements halt and Conseil sits up pin straight.

"Yes, Ned?"

The Canadian snapped out of his semi dissociated state in an instant.

"Ah! I'm very sorry. Can I ask you a question?"

"Ask away."

He puts down his pen but doesnt turn around.

"The Professor, ... Do you love him?"

Conseil sits back in his chair.

"Of course", he says, without a moment of hesitation.

Ned laughs awkwardly.

"You say that so easily! No shame at all..."

At this, the younger man finally turns around. He looks at his friend for a while, trying to assess the intention behind his statement.

"Shame. For what exactly? For love? I think thats awfully narrow minded."

"Oh! No! Not at all, thats not-" Ned scrambles for the right words.

"I just meant...it's...good? I mean most people would probably be ashamed to admit it so outright. What, with how it's looked upon and all..."

Conseil crosses his arms in front of his chest and takes a moment to think.

"I don't particularly care for how things are 'looked upon'. I consider it a valuable trait, my love for Master. It makes my work enjoyable and my studies easy to follow. Above all, it makes me an ideal employee."

Ned considers the explanation for a few seconds, nods, opens his mouth to ask another question and closes it again without having done so. In truth - and being so honest with himself is truly upsetting - he wanted the answer to be anything but "Yes". What to do with this realisation, he has yet to decide.

"Does he love you as well?", he finally asks.

"He loves me well enough and cares for me deeply. He certainly has a way of showing it." At the last part, Conseil shakes his head a little.

"Do people ever...do people know you're..together?"

This is where Conseil's eyebrows wander so far up his forehead, Ned would not be shocked if they disappeared into his hairline.

"I think, dear Ned, you have misunderstood me. I am not in love with Master. I love him, very dearly! Ah, but I see how you came to that conclusion. No, I am not in love with him." He laughs. "No, just imagine how taxing that would be... Besides, currently both our hearts are quite take by someone else. However fortune or un-fortunate of a choice that is on his part..."

The Canadian nods again, unsure how to proceed; or how to process the pounding in his chest, which had rudely presented itself the second the other man alluded to being in love with someone, after all.

He is pulled out of his own thoughts by Conseil speaking once more. So occupied was he by them that he did not notice him crossing the room to stand right in front of him now.

"However fortune or un-fortunate Master may be in his affections, I trust that my heart is in better, kinder hands."

His long fingers cradle around Ned's large, warm hand and give it a tight squeeze.

"I hope my trust is not misplaced, Master Land."

Then, the man turns and with an explanation of "Master has not come to see us at all this evening. I shall pay a visit." he exits the shared room; leaving Ned Land flustered, his heart beat loud and heavy in his ears. He believes the last time he felt like this, he must have still been in school.

[feeshies]

Ned Land and Conseil warmup doodle

They have what Aronnax wishes he had

[hugh-lauries-bald-spot]

rereading tkluts will fix me,,,,

[gay-for-stanford]

Hello 20,000 leagues fandom (I am speaking into a void) I would like to let you know (please talk to me) I am working on something special! (Actually real) I am working on the 20,000 leagues under the sea play! It will be a almost completely book accurate (because im using the real book as reference) but, there will be something special (gay). Canon relationships! (It’s Aronnemo, Aronnemo will be canon)(and Landseil)

[quesneliar]

Can't think of any caption just- Nemonnax again lol And my random doodleee yippee!

I love my shark Nemo sm but ok- seriously I want merman au