#/ tossed in fish's human au where he and the others open a circus school because I THINK IT'S CUTE

[missallanea]

@priesm : i'm so happy for you and the life you've created. fish eye !

He'd been walking Usagi through the space he, Tiger, and Hawk had found and started renting out, an old warehouse space that they were reworking into their circus school. What had started as a joke had turned into a serious goal for the three of them, a dream of sorts. After all, who better to train future circus performers than three of the best?

Usagi's remark stops Fish in his tracks, and his tour is momentarily forgotten as he spins around to face the girl with a smile.

"Thanks to you, you know." He's sure she does, but it won't stop him from saying it any chance he gets. "If it wasn't for you, we..."

Words trail off. They both know where he and the others would be without her and Helios. "Hey, if you and your friends ever wanna try your hands at trapeze, you know where to come! I'll even teach you to walk the high-wire."

prompts for things friends say to each other

[spitefulpumpkin]

Moonshine Lake; Ch.1: Strangers

Mirror on AO3

Self-indulgent as hell AU fic about a boy meeting a fish creature and their unusual love story. Co-plotted with @jyagantz

Trigger Warnings: Homophobia, Bullying, Animal Cruelty, Drug Abuse, non-explicit Interspecies Sex Unbeta’d, mostly written on mobile!

The Junkenstein family was a small institution. In fact there used to be a whole clan attached to the name, but only three of them were left behind in the small town of Adlersbrunn. Those would be the traveling merchant Lord James Richard Junkenstein, his wife of over twenty years Camilla and finally, their God given gift, their little son James, lovingly called Jamison. The Junkensteins loved their son, as for over a decade they had tried to conceive an heir to their name and land. The more they treasured the boy, fed him well and kept him proper. And like a true mother Camilla saw only the best in Little James. "He is such a smart child. He leaned to walk so early on and he could already write his name at tender three years old." she had cooed with former servants of the household. Much to her husband's dismay, who loved their son just as much as she did but was more grounded in his world view as a former soldier to the Adlersbrunn guard. "He might be smart but he will need a proper education to put his talents to use."

After he was able to talk Jamison got home schooled. The teachers were pleased with him but everyone working in the Junkenstein household knew the boy was a force of nature. Outside of his mother's guarding eye he would climb on furniture, draw on walls with ink or steal kitchen tools to make himself armor to fight against the neighbor's German shepard as if it was a dragon. Jamison was full of energy and it drove his parents who were both already in their fourties to their knees. They confused avoiding stress with taking care of their son, secluding him from the outside world more and more. The boy grew awfully lonely, surrounded by servants and teachers, his parents growing busier with every year and his frustration over it turning the once energetic child to a timid little soul who prefered books over human company. But then, one night - Jamison was nine years old - he found his first ever friend. In the most unlikely of places.

That night Jamison snuck out of the house. It was way too easy for the boy to avoid the guarding eyes of the servants and the door in the kitchen that led to the garden was old enough for a child to unlock with a simple old spoon. He liked the garden at night time. Mother's flowers would shimmer in muted colors through the night and the herbs were let to grow wildly, filling the late spring air with the gentle scent of lavender and basil. In the far back, past the old willow tree with his swing set and the white rose bushes, was the boy's favorite spot in the garden. Framed by large bushes with evergreen needles was a white fountain, carved out of stone. It looked older than the house, even though this couldn't possibly be, as Father kept saying he bought the house with the fountain back in the day. The water stains left it looking withered and used, and Jamison really liked that. People barely went into the far back of the garden, as its fence of green shuttered it from initial sight. Sometimes the gardener came through to remove weeds, and to see if the water still ran, but that's it. Jamison liked this spot. He spent many days watching the water of the surprisingly deep fountain run and reflect in the light. He liked the noise of the water hitting the stone and the smell of wetness. This was chosen isolation, not the one forced onto him by his parents. The kind of isolation he wished he was able to share... The boy barely touched the cold stone to sit at the edge of the fountain, when a noise startled him. Something was beyond the bushes. Jamison had climbed through a hole between the needles before, he knew of the little bit of forest behind it, as its trees grew higher than the roof of his home. He inched closed and peaked through, seeing only vague shapes. The little boy took a deep, brave breath in before he dug through the bushes, scratching his hand on a twig. He couldn't ignore the noises, because he knew these noises way too well: Crying...

The crying became louder the more the forest went down a little steep. Jamison held on to the trees as to not stumble over the roots poking from the ground as he made his way down. He saw water running. That's right, there was a river running through this forest. Maybe this was where the fountain got its water from. Once by the water Jamison looked around, trying to locate the crying. He followed the stream downward, until he was close enough to make out a bundle laying on the ground near the water. The boy gasped. At first he thought it might be an otter or another animal, but it was way too big for that. With green-blue scales shimmering in the moonlight, Jamison saw what looked like a little boy with large blue fins on his neck sit near the water, crying his eyes out. Jamison tried to close his mouth from the awe. He had never seen a creature like this before. Curiously he came closer. The fish boy had no hair and his scales looked weirdly dull. Maybe he was covered in mud, Jamison could barely tell through the darkness. He also noticed that little tail that reminded him of a frog's tadpole tail. And then he saw the blood. The side of the boy's leg was scratched open, as if he cut himself on a stone. "Oh no." Jamison spoke up and regretted it, because the fish boy spun around, his enormous dark eyes staring at Jamison before snarling and hissing, showing an impressive set of teeth. The boy raised his hands. "No, no, no, please don't be scared!" The fish child twitched, his face turning to a confused one. Jamison swallowed his own spit. This wasn't what he had expected would ever happen to him. This was...exciting. Slowly he lowered his hands and inched towards the scaled boy. The cut didn't look deep but it was dirty and probably still hurt a lot, given that the fish was still weeping, his almost black dark green eyes shimmering from tears. Jamison went on his knees. "Come. I carry you." The fish boy shook his head as Jamison tried to touch him to pick the smaller child up. So he did understand him. "You sure you can stand? It looks bad." Jamison returned but the fish child, somehow managed to get onto his one, very shaky leg. "I'm....warrior..." came out in heavy voice, even for a kid. His tongue wasn't used to so much strain. Jamison got up again and hopped over to give his unusual find support. "There's a fountain in our garden. We can wash your leg in it." The fish wanted to protest. He obviously didn't like getting help forced onto him, but he barely had a choice. Jamison was sure, if an adult had found him the poor fella would be tossed into a circus, or worse, end as someone's dinner.

The way up was a struggle, mostly due to the fish's limited mobility and Jamison's lack of fitness. Still, they got up, even when it meant Jamison's pants would be stained with mud and grass. No one will never know though if he hid them lower in the laundry pile. Once through the bushes Jamison helped the fish sit down at the rim off the fountain. "Here you go. You can clean your legs in the water." He pulled out a handkerchief from his back pocket, that was big enough to wrap twice around his head. "Then I cover it up with this." The fish boy hummed and while he did turn to bath his feet in the fountain he didn't clean out the wound. He just moved his feet around in the water. Jamison removed his large glasses for a moment, wiping them clean on his shirt. "You, uh...who are you?" The question came out sheepishly. The naivety of a child can be strong, every when faced with what others would call a monster. The fish boy glanced up, the sad features slowly soften as his hand reached to his wrist, a little bracelet made of seashells hanging on it. "Ahm...I am..." Curiously Jamison climbed next to the boy, undoing his muddy shoes. "You look like a fish." he commented. The big, translucent fins of the boy flailed up. "I am no simple fish! I am a warrior! My flock is the best along the Cold Shores!" "Sssshhh!" Jamison leaned in with his finger against his lips. "My parents are asleep..." The no-simple-fish boy held his mouth shut with both hands. A glance over the hedge, praying no lights were on. The darkness was a relief. Slowly the blond boy rolled up the legs of his pyjamas to slowly sink his feet into the cold water. "Okay. Warrior. Got it. But...do you have, like, a name?" "Everyone has a name." came as a reply, as if Jamison's question was the most well known thing in the world. The blond boy giggled a little. "Sure, but what is your name? Here, I'll tell you mine, too, if you tell me yours." He reached out his hand. "I'm James Junkenstein." With big eyes the scaled boy looked at the hand in confusion. He poked Jamison's palm with one of his cool fingers, causing the boy to twitch back and giggle. "Hey! That tickles." Fins flailed up again and something akin to a laugh bubbled up from the fish boy. He then raised his hand to pat his own shoulder twice. "Akande." Jamison rubbed his palm before he started to smile. Was that a greeting? He mirrored the motion, knocking with a flat hand again his left shoulder and the boy's eyes started to gleam.