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yourdeepestfathoms · 5 years ago

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in aeternum, little lamb

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word count: 4756

Prompt: “Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

———————

It was raining. Again.

Usually a rainstorm was serene and peaceful, normal for London, but there was a certain sticky humidity in the air that made going outside a chore. It was cold, yet uncomfortably warm at the same time with no wind blowing to ease the mild heat that has settled its oppressive, sultry murk over the city. It spilled into every street, every alleyway, every house that dared to open the window, thinking that it would help with the clamminess that fogged their home, but to no avail.

This, of course, brought upon complete and utter dreariness that coated every person making their rounds through their daily lives.

Anne’s forehead was dotted with beads of sweat by the time she arrived at the theater, only then really regretting her decision to walk to work. She hadn’t been expecting the humidity to be that bad, but here she was, feeling like she was leaking steam from every pore.

“God, this weather is miserable,” Jane was grumbling in her dressing room when Anne peeked in. She was currently attempting to tame her wild blonde hair (and losing the battle), which had a small (read as: large, high, anything but small) tendency to frizz up in high vaporous atmospheres like the one drenching London on that day.

“You look great, Jane.” Anne laughed, leaning on the doorframe. She gets a piercing grey glower shot in her direction, but isn’t phased by it. The coldness of the stare almost eased her internal temperature.

“Why is it so damn humid?” Jane finally exclaimed. “We live in London! Not Florida or whatever the fuck it’s called—”

Anne bit both lips, trying to hold back her laughter at the proper fit the queen before her was throwing.

“It’s supposed to be rainy and cold. Not rainy and a LITERAL SAUNA!”

Kitty, who was sitting nearby at her own makeup table, giggled softly. She got up and picked up a brush to help with her mother’s wild hair, which was definitely puffing up as if she were an angry cat or a distressed Studio Ghibli character.

“I don’t know, Jane,” Anne laughed slightly. “Well, I’m going to go get a cup of coffee. You two need anything?”

“Yeah,” Jane said. “A word with Mother Nature.”

Anne laughed again, waved a hand, and walked off to the break room.

Well- it wasn’t really a break room, per se. Theaters didn’t really have those. It was just an extra dressing room that nobody used and had a microwave, mini fridge, and coffee machine inside. In some way or another, a round bar table, small couch, and two beanbags ended up inside- Anne couldn’t really remember how they got there, but they were there and, thus, the room became a nice place to chat and relax when nothing was going on. Kitty had once even hid under the twin beanbags during a game of hide-and-seek (which was also her idea).

Upon stepping inside the break room, the scent of coffee bombarded Anne’s nose. The coffee machine was still on, but little was left in the pot. She walks over to it, thinking it was enough to sate her- she didn’t really like coffee, but she needed the extra rush to help her combat the dreariness the weather was inflicting upon her.

“Sorry,” A voice from behind suddenly said. “If I had known you wanted some, I would have made more.”

Anne actually jumped and she whirled around to see none other than the music director sitting in one of the beanbags. She jumped, too, and straightened up, nearly spilling the mug she had placed beside her pillowy seat.

“Sorry!” She said again. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Anne placed a hand over her racing heart and waved the other dismissively, laughing.

“It’s alright!” She assured the girl. “I didn’t see you at all!”

Joan smiled slightly, humoring her comment, then slumped back over to continue reading the book she had in her lap.

Anne studies her for a moment- as everyone said, Joan wasn’t much for conversation, despite always lurking on the edges of a group discussion. It was like she wanted to join in or just talk to someone, but didn’t have the courage to do so. Perhaps she was worried about being ignored or rejected, so, instead, she just watched in silence.

Maybe that’s why a few younger stagehands who were working there for college credit started calling her the “Theater Ghost.” Anne couldn’t really deny that that title wasn’t accurate- her not noticing the girl at all just proved that it was.

“Did you drink all of this?” She asked, trying to strike up a conversation to make things less awkward. Tenseness was as thick as the humidity outside in that room.

“It’s not that big of a pot...” Joan sort of mumbled.

So, yes. She did.

Anne frowned slightly. She vaguely knew of Joan’s caffeine addiction, but never really saw it first hand. She just knew that the girl drank more coffee than everyone working on the show combined.

“I see,” Anne chuckled. “Well, alright.”

She turned around while waiting for the pot to fill to see that Joan was looking at her. However, when she noticed, Joan snapped her head back down to her book. Anne furrowed her eyebrows.

“What are you reading?”

“Huh?” Joan seemed...surprised that Anne was asking her something. “Oh, it’s just- it’s just some silly book.” She kicked her leg anxiously against the beanbag, seemingly trying to hype herself up for something. “It’s, umm- it’s called Wings of Fire.”

She brandishes the book, keeping one finger inside the pages to mark her spot. On the cover was a flying gold and black dragon with four insect wings, spines along the back, and funny little glasses on the snout (something about dragons having eyesight care and possibly dragon eye doctors stood out as silly to Anne).

“It looks good,” Anne said after inspecting the picture.

“Oh, it is!” Joan said, perking up slightly. “It’s about these ten dragon tribes and five baby dragons were supposed to be born on The Brightest Night and be the Dragonets of Destiny to stop the war between three Sandwings fighting to be queen. So they’re kept underground, but their caretakers are kinda abusive and mean. Probably because the Skywing egg was destroyed so they had to replace it with a Rainwing egg, which are supposed to be the laziest tribe and that makes Kestrel- the really mean guardian- mad. So she’s kinda a jerk to the five dragonets. But then they break out of their cave before they’re supposed to leave when they’re six, because they have to wait until they’re seven, only to be captured by the Skywing queen! And they’re forced to fight to the death and they’re almost killed because this one character, Peril, can burn everything she touches! But then it’s revealed that Clay, he’s the Mudwing, has fireproof scales! And Glory, she’s the Rainwing I was talking about, can spit venom!! Then they escape and go to the Seawing kingdom and Tsunami- the Seawing- is actually the missing Seawing princess and a statue was killing all the other eggs. Then they go to the rainforest and Glory becomes queen and Starflight goes blind in the fourth book and the end of the war happens in the fifth!!” She’s babbling about a hundred miles per minute- Anne can barely keep up. “We should- we should read it together! If you’re interested. Like a book club! Except I’m on the twelfth book right now and I don’t know how fast you can read and I just basically spoiled the entire series, hahaha...but only for the first five!! But the next arc isn’t that good if you ask me. It completely throws everything that has happened out the window and just puts new characters in a school? Which they barely even stay at! So why even make the school, Tui? And my favorite character in that segment is in a coma for, like, three of the five books in that arc!! Arc three is pretty cool, though. I like the new tribes. And Sundew is supposed to be a lesbian! With an actual girlfriend! And it’s a main plot point!!” She’s beaming now. “I just—I think you would really, really like it and, I dunno...it would be fun! I can read it aloud? N-not because I think you can’t read or anything, I just—like talking. To someone. And to make sure you don’t doze off and miss any of the really good parts! Because there are SO MANY even though Tui doesn’t seem to remember any of her world building half of the time, but—”

“Joan?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Joan’s face flashed deep crimson. She hunched her shoulders around her neck and ducked her head, almost using her book as a shield to hide herself. It seems she just realized that she had been talking the green queen’s ear off.

“Sorry,” She whispered. “I-I just thought that you wanted to...” She shook her head. Her hands clench around the sides of her book. “Nevermind.”

“Joan-”

“Your coffee is gonna get cold.”

Anne looked at the full coffee pot, then back to the girl, and then walked over to get herself a cup. She can hear Joan shifting anxiously in the beanbag behind her.

Honestly, she found the girl’s deep interest in what she was reading quite endearing, she just didn’t know how to reply to her monologue in a way that showed that she actually was interested in what she was saying.

“Maybe send me the link to the book sometime?” Anne offered while heading for the door. “Or if you have a physical copy...”

“Yeah,” Joan smiles thinly- weakly. “I have some at home. I’ll give them to you tomorrow.”

“Sounds great.”

“Oh, and— Anne?”

Anne stopped right as she was walking out.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

Joan looked down shyly, shifting her legs.

“For talking to me.”

———

“She thanked me. For standing there while she was ranting about a book!”

The other queens looked rather amused by the story they were given during dinner. It wasn’t exactly the reactions Anne was hoping for- was nobody else concerned by the oddity of the situation?!

“Joan’s a...quirky kid.” Jane merely said. “She’s always been a little strange, Anne. I’m almost positive she was raised by literal street rats, so that might have something to do with it. Rats aren’t exactly much for conversation.”

Anne looked at her in shock. Of everyone to say such a thing, she hadn’t expected it to come from Jane “Protective and Loving Mom Friend” Seymour.

“Did you just—”

“Anne,” Jane sighed. “You know what I’m talking about. She worked for you! She’s just a weird kid. Kids are weird!”

“‘Weird’ is when a kid likes to watch snails go over salt and get burned, Jane. Thanking someone for listening to them talk about a book is concerning.” Anne argued.

“Cathy does it all the time.”

“Cathy doesn’t thank us!”

Anne was really getting worked up over this and she wasn’t exactly sure why. She really only got this way for Kitty or Maggie- she theorized it was those maternal instincts kicking in or just a natural protectiveness for an ex-maid in waiting.

Whatever it was, it sure seemed to be amusing to the others.

“Okay, calm down, Anne.” Cleves said, laughing slightly. “We get it, you think it’s worrying. No need to start a food fight over it.”

“I’m not going to-” Anne broke off into agitated grumbling, which caused even more giggles in reaction.

“I said thank you to Catherine when I read to her yesterday,” Cathy said.

“That’s because you were asking her opinion on a chapter you wrote!” Anne struck back. “It is NOT the same thing!”

Cathy shrugged and took a bite out of her pork chop.

“It’s nothing you should stress about, Annie.” Kitty said. “Maybe some people are just meant to be alone!”

Anne gave her a look of disbelief.

“Like Henry.” Cleves put in helpfully.

“Like Henry, yeah!”

Now, don’t get Anne wrong, she loved her little found family with the queens very much, but, at that moment, she wanted to hit all of them with the salad bowl at the center of the table as hard as she could.

Maybe not Aragon, though (unfortunately). The woman hadn’t told Anne to forget about the situation or just move on- she was thoughtfully silent, eating her dinner in reserved peace. Whatever her opinion on the argument was, she didn’t say it.

Anne sighed, putting her head in one hand as she picked at her dinner until Aragon finally spoke up to tell her to get her elbow off the table. She begrudgingly obeys.

Like that, the conversation is dropped and something new, something Anne really didn’t care about was talked about.

After dinner, Anne decided to do some snooping on her laptop. First, she looked up historical information on Joan, only to find nothing. Every website was just the same thing over and over again- literally. It was just copied and pasted from the extremely short and vague Wikipedia page on the girl. The names of her parents weren’t even recorded, nor was any childhood information. There was barely even anything on her time as a lady in waiting, which only covered her work under Jane and not either of the cousins.

She had a son named Hercules, though. If that meant anything.

Next, Anne went to Joan’s Instagram page. It had several hundred followers, mainly from the fans who insisted on following everyone associated with the show, and was filled with the normal posts the actors usually had- although there were very few compared to the queen’s and other ladies in waiting’s accounts. Most of the photos were of her work or her playing the songs on her piano or of selfies of her in the band costume.

In almost all of them, she was completely alone.

Anne searched for something- she didn’t know what exactly, just something- in the seventh-five posts on the account, then went to the photos Joan was tagged in. There weren’t many- just group photos and a few good shots of her from a MegaSix and a single appreciation post (she vaguely remembered Joan telling them about it and how giddy it had made her...nobody had really listened to the babbling at the time).

And then Anne found a certain photo- the first one she was ever tagged in: it was a photo of her costume laid out on a table with the caption, “Here’s the lady in waiting costume! I’ll be posting about SIX more on my other account, so follow if you’re interested!”

The name of the account was @force-be-with-ewe.

Anne clicked on it.

force-be-with-ewe

i just really like drawing sheep

Johanna-She/her-Asexual lesbian-Musician and artist

That’s the first thing Anne saw when she clicked on the account, along with an adorable profile picture of a sheep playing a piano, then the whopping twelve followers (most of which were ghosts or bots) and three hundred and nine posts.

It took Anne just a moment to realize that this was Joan’s personal account.

And she went through all of it.

The profile was a mishmash of drawings and piano videos and sheep. The latest post was actually a photo of a bird with a caption talking about how the little guy had been visiting Joan’s bedroom window every morning and “giving her a reason to get up because she had someone looking forward to seeing her.” She maturely and proudly dubbed the bird “Minecraft.”

After that were drawings of dragons with #wingsoffire and #wof in the descriptions, leading Anne to believe that they were characters from the book she had been told about earlier that day.

And they just kept going.

Among videos of Joan playing the theater keyboard when presumably nobody was around, were drawings of sheep playing various instruments and sleeping and being adorable, drawings of more dragons, drawings of a few Pokémon (mainly Snom, Wooloo, and Sobble). There were stunning drawings of giant creatures from a game called “Subnautica” and beautiful drawings of castles and scenery. There were even drawings of the queens!

Usually fans would tag them in art, but it appeared that Joan was too shy to do that. So, instead, she just left them floating in her profile with no ways to see the masterpieces, since there weren’t any hashtags on those.

Anne was genuinely amazed by the attention to detail in the sketches of her and her fellow queens and even more amazed by the drawings with watercolors. She swore the painting’s eyes had more color than her own and the costume was as vibrant as the actual one in real life.

It was beautiful. They were all beautiful.

Why didn’t Joan want anyone seeing these?

Anne kept scrolling and eventually came upon rather...concerning posts.

The first was of a messy, but haunting colored pencil sketch of a pitch black ram with inky, bleeding red eyes that seemed to stare through the screen and directly into Anne’s soul. The caption simply said, “Black Philip.”

Another was a drawing of a blonde girl, presumably Joan, leaking coffee from every single orifice on her face and was drawn with such detail that it would easily make an emetophobic’s stoamch churn with nausea.

And then there were a few of an ice dragon, slightly similar to one of the dragon tribes from the book, but this one notably had more icicle spikes, frayed scales, and jagged wings. It was moon silver in color with ice blue hues and eyes like a raging blizzard.

All the drawings done with this beast, which was apparently named “Killer Frost” (and has no ties to the Flash character of the same name), were normal- just it laying around, flying, standing atop icebergs menacingly or breathing a freezing death breath. But there were a few that stood out to Anne as worrying.

The first was of Kitty, actually. She was wearing her show costume and her eyes were closed with a peaceful expression on her face. And then there was the glittering paw of the ice dragon reaching down from the top of the image and cupping one of her cheeks with its serrated, barbed claws. The caption read, “The Chosen One.”

The second and much more concerning drawing was captioned, “Envy truly is a deadly sin.”

It was a drawing of Killer Frost crouched in a feral position, staring forward with blazing eyes, jaw hanging open and teeth bared, absolutely soaked in blood.

There was just blood everywhere. Blood on the body, blood on the claws, blood dripping in horrifying realistic threads from the mouth, blood all over the blank, white floor beneath the beast, blood squirting from the remains of the carcasses that had presumably been gored.

The image left Anne with so many questions- What did this represent? Who were those corpses? Was Joan jealous? And if yes, who was she jealous of?

One thing was certain, though- Joan was startlingly good at drawing gore. A sketch of Killer Frost holding its own gooey, bloody esophagus and larynx in another photo just proved that. There was even one of the dragon ripping its own throat out while the faint outline of what appeared to be three ghosts encouraged it.

It was strange to see such mishmashes of horror shoved in between adorable sketches of sleeping baby lambs and fluffy Wooloos. It also left Anne with growing worry for the artist.

When she finally finished going through the profile, Anne decided the follow the account and became the thirteenth follower.

This time, thirteen would not be an unlucky number.

———

Five books were left on Anne’s dressing room table the next day, all with a colorful dragon on the cover, and a note that read, “I didn’t know if you only wanted one book or all of them, so I just left the first arc. Let me know what you think! :) -Joan”

“Fan mail?” Cleves asked, peeking over to the table from where she was getting ready.

“Nah,” Anne replied. “Just some books.”

“Sounds very cool,” Cleves chuckled before returning to dousing her hair with hairspray.

“Extremely.” Anne said, then set out to find and talk to Joan before the show. She could get her hair and makeup done later!

Except she couldn’t find the girl anywhere. She asked around, but nobody knew where she went. And she was definitely there because Anne saw her onstage right before the performance, but, by then, it was too late to speak to her. Anne just decided to see her afterwards, which was easier said than done because, once again, Joan was nowhere in sight.

Anne was about to give up, since it was almost time to leave, but then she spotted the girl in the break room playing a card game by herself at the round bar table. She considered charging in and barking at her about where she’s been, but she didn’t want to freak her out, so she just walked in calmly.

“Hey, Joan,” She said cooly, noticing the way the music director’s hand froze as she was setting down a card. She grabbed a water bottle from the mini fridge and sat down at the chair across from Joan. “Whatcha doing?”

“Just...playing a card game my brother taught me.” The girl replied meekly.

Joan had a brother? The articles on her said nothing about him...

“You had cards back then?” Anne asked, as if she hadn’t been born in the same time period.

“No, we used strips of wood we would tear off from people’s houses and carved symbols on them with knives.”

Anne blinked.

“...Oh. That’s...”

“Concerning?” Joan finally glanced up from her deck of cards to look at Anne. A ghost of a smile graced her lips for a moment before she tilted her head back down with a light laugh. “I know.”

“Mind if I play?”

She’s glanced at again- scanned, as if Joan was expecting her to pull something and make a joke out of her. But then she gave in and began collecting the cards from how they’re laid out on the table.

“This game is too complicated to explain,” She said. “But we can play Speed?”

After a quick rundown of the rules, Anne agreed and the game began.

And honestly? It was great. Joan genuinely laughed and smiled as they playfully bickered and argued over the card game. She almost looked like a happy little lamb frolicking in a field of flowers.

On their third round, Kitty peeks into the break room.

“There you are, Annie!” She said. “I was looking for you!”

“Oh, hey, Kit!” Anne said. Out of the corner of her eye, she definitely saw Joan clench her jaw. The drawing of Kitty and Killer Frost’s claws and then the bloody sketch briefly flashed in her mind. “What’s up?”

“We’re leaving,” Kitty informed. “We had dinner plans tonight, remember?”

Joan sighed softly and began to pick up the cards. Anne gently pressed her hand down.

“I think I’m going to pass tonight, Kit.”

Both blondes looked shocked- Joan more than Kitty from the way her head whipped up fast enough to give her whiplash.

“How come?” Kitty asked, clearly confused. “I thought you really wanted to go to this pub...”

“I know, but I’m hanging out with Joan right now.” Anne said. “Just bring me home something if you can!”

Kitty blinked several times, glanced at Joan, then nodded and walked out.

“You didn’t have to stay,” Joan whispered.

“I wanted to, though.” Anne assured her. She gently took the deck of cards from Joan’s clenched hands and began dealing them out. “Wanna keep playing Speed or try War? I’ve played with Aragon before. I swear, she ALMOST broke my nose in anger!”

“You followed me last night.”

Anne blinked.

“Yeah, of course,” She said. “I had no idea you could draw so well. You’re very talented.”

A hot pink blush dusts Joan’s cheeks and she looked away. She anxiously plays with the corner of an ace of spades. The slight drizzle that had been tapping on the window starts to pick up.

“I-”

She’s embarrassed, Anne realized. Embarrassed and horrified because she knows Anne saw the gruesome drawings she had made.

She believes that Anne thinks she’s sick. Or a freak. Or a monster.

Anne would admit that they’re a little weird, but a lot of artists liked to make horrific art. Nothing wrong with that, especially if they were vents.

“Joan-”

“Why are you doing this?” Joan asked quietly. She looked up and centuries worth of loneliness and neglect and pain reflect in her stormy grey eyes. “What do you want?”

Finally, Anne understood.

“Look,” Anne said. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

Joan froze. She just stared at Anne in shock for a long time before tears fill her eyes and start to run down her cheeks. She tries to stop them, but it’s clear she’s been bottling this all up for a long time and won’t be able to hold it back any longer.

“Y-you want to be my friend?” Joan whispered.

“Yes, Joan.” Anne answered her honestly, not missing a beat. “You deserve someone who cares about you.”

The most heartbreaking whimper Anne has ever heard strangled itself out of Joan’s throat. The tears start to come down faster.

“N-nobody— Nobody has ever w-wanted to—”

“Oh, Joan...”

Anne quickly got out of her chair and walked around to Joan’s side of the table. She wrapped her arms around the girl and she immediately slumped into her embrace, clinging back like Anne was her life line.

“Oh, Joan,” Anne said again. “Oh, you poor, sweet little thing...”

Joan began to openly sob against her shoulder. Her hands claw at the back of Anne’s shirt, desperate for a good hold.

“I’ve- I’ve been alone f-for so long—” She wept.

“Shh, shh,” Anne hushed her. She began to rub her back soothingly. “I’ve got you now, honey. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

That elicits a sharp whimper from Joan, who burrows herself even closer to the queen’s warmth. And she stays like that, half slid out of her stool, clutching onto Anne Boleyn like her life depended on it until she was able to choke back the rest of her tears.

“Feeling any better?” Anne asked. She was still rubbing Joan’s back, as the girl had yet to pull back from the embrace.

Joan shrugged weakly. “A-little.” She croaked. “N-not...not good. But better. B-because you’re here.”

Anne’s heart simultaneously broke and melted.

“You sweet girl,” She said lovingly. “I want to be here for you from now on. Is that alright?”

Joan nodded. “Please...”

“Alright,” Anne said. She gently pressed Joan back and gave her her water bottle, which she never actually opened. “Drink something for me, sweetheart.”

Joan obeyed and took a few small sips of the water. It soothed her dry throat, which was weak from the outpour of emotions.

“Good girl,” Anne said encouragingly. “Hey, here’s an idea! Why don’t we go back to my house and watch a movie? I know there’s a tray of lasagna we could heat up! If you want to, that is.”

“N-no, that’s-” Joan sniffled. “I would really, really like that...”

Anne smiled warmly at her.

“Wonderful.”

———

When the other queens came home later that evening, none of them were expecting to see Anne sitting on the couch with the music director’s head in her lap, but that’s the sight they were greeted to.

They both looked content, Anne with a loving smile on her lips and Joan with a peaceful expression settled on her face as she slept. One of Anne’s hands was stroking through Joan’s hair and the other was holding a book, which she looked up from when the front door opened.

“Hey, ladies,” She said, momentarily setting down Wings of Fire- The Dragonet Prophecy. “How was dinner?”

———

A day later, Anne got a notification on her phone saying that @force-be-with-ewe had posted. When she checks it, she sees a digital drawing of Killer Frost being nuzzled lovingly by a large, emerald green dragon.

The caption simply reads, “Thank you for giving me a chance”

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six fic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #anne boleyn #jane seymour #katherine howard #joan on the keys #anna of cleves #catherine parr #catherine of aragon #nana boleyn #in aeternum little lamb

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twitchesandstitches · 5 years ago

Text

Average Day for Hyper Muscle Polypa

commission for a slice of life story featuring the hyper amazonian and muscle gut Polypa from one of my most frequent comm-ers!

Features hyper muscle, mini-giantess aspects, and a vore scene later on.

--------

It took some time for the mutated troll woman, Polypa Gozee, to wake up all the way. She rolled and shifted around in her recuperacoon for a while, her impossibly muscular and oversized body straining the poor device’s ability to contain her. The questionably fleshy recuperacoon’s surface was strained particularly hard by one especially huge lump forcing out its front, and two significantly smaller (but still quite big) spheres on top of that. As she woke up, they shifted heavily, forced this way and that way as she slowly got to her feet inside the sopor slime. And then, she yawned heavily, so hard that the windows of her hive almost rattled. And then, there was a gurgling growl from her massive stomach that did make the windows shake almost out of their frames, and the sound knocked down a couple trolls who had been walking past the huge and overbuilt complex of her hive.

It was surprisingly large for an oliveblood, who never got the kind of resources for something like that. But when it came to questions about Polypa, her hive being too big was really the least of it.

And in any case, even her hive, engineered as it was to cope with her unique and empire-compliant mutations, couldn’t quite cope with the kind of power even her hungry rumblings could perform.

Consider a view through her hive, through its many winding hallways, its twisting corridors, the walls with handholds put into them near furniture at just the right angle for beings of a considerably smaller size to move up, and a general sense of scale. Walking into this home was a bit like being transported into a world where you were suddenly far smaller than you ought to be; everything suddenly looked massive.

It was also the home of a fangirl, it seemed. Finished assembly kits for many different series lined the shelves end to end, arranged into complicated dioramas telling their own self-contained stories. Models and miniatures, patiently handpainted with a few sloppy mis-strokes that indicated someone not well suited to precise movements, occupied display shelves.

And the scale of the rooms, and its furniture, were massive. Most trolls were giants compared to the unfortunate aliens they met, save perhaps for the mineral entities known only as the Gems, and the titanic shapeshifting robots known as the Autobots, whom had called an alliance together specifically to stonewall the Condesce so badly that in her frustration she had postponed her eternal conquest and allowed the adult trolls to return to Alternia, to repopulate and bide their time. And even so, the size of these rooms would make even the biggest troll brute feel like a lost infant wriggler. A chair alone, for instance, was more than ten feet across (by the measurements of humans, at least), and higher than most trolls were tall.

The walls were decorated in the colorful and bright shades of various animated series, some fairly obscure and some autographed in the careful, pictogram calligraphy of the written languages in the regions they had originated in. Most of these were of cute characters, with incredibly buxom, amazonian troll-women as the primary focus; given that the cultural expectation was for women to be more ruthless, cruel and ferocious than the smaller and frailer men, they also tended to be somewhat bloody and gory. Even the cutesy and lighthearted shows featured at least a few bloody heads on pointy sticks here and there. Fuchsia princesses predominated, their frilly dresses and armored attire suggesting a few popular trends from a troll genre broadly similar to the romantic and self-discovery of human shoujo series, but other posters, as well as a truly shocking breadth of collectable miniatures, models and dioramas constructed from those very collectibles, had the softer and more stylized looks of something like action-packed shonen series.

(Those were not quite the same terms as trolls themselves would have used, but in lieu of direct translations, those terms suffice to get the general vibe of those genres across.)

It bore some repeating that the collectibles weren’t just fairly diverse, but they were hand-painted, though not handcrafted. They’d clearly been bought from a store or assembled from kits, but they had been painted at home, with a lot of love, if not necessarily a lot of skill. They were something of a contrast to the bloody trophies kept in little glass desks throughout the home, like a predator’s way of saying ‘heck yeah, I killed THAT’.

They were unlabeled, preserved in jars and transparent boxes and even living jelly spheres that kept particularly brief things going, but they were clearly trophies from dead trolls. A broken horn there, its base scarred by some kind of horribly vicious digestive fluid that still tinted it olive-green. Several orange-red bones, preserved in fluid. More than one or two skulls, and there weren’t many of these larger trophies. There were necklaces and bracelets of teeth presumably taken from dead jaws, torn out and strung up, and it was always one tooth per kill. There were many necklaces, a bit bloody from their original owners, mostly in the colder shades.

There was another oddity of them; the hive was mainly made of a blend of the various living substances trolls built their homes out of, interlaced with a tough resin that was pretty similar to some plastics and provided al ot of structural strength, and the composite was a hardly material that would gradually heal most damage done to it. It was, after all, a living thing. However, this hive’s walls were coated in a glassy substance often used in fireproofing; it had a very high melting point, and saw a lot of industrial use. It protected the cases all her books, movies, animations and various collectibles were all set in, and the impression was that she was worried about fires. There were still a few scorch marks, here and there, in the shape of handprints and footprints.

Now, consider her bedroom.

It was a surprisingly small space. There were fewer collectibles and trophies compared to the rest of her home, and only a few photos. Most of those were on a small desk on the other side of the room from her recuperacoon, and generally showed her with the long-dead lusus who had raised her from wrigglerhood. There was one photo from before her adult molts, with her moirail Tegiri. The photo showed her towering over him even them, one buff arm looped around his neck, him with a stoic expression of long-suffering complacence, and the other photos of them largely followed this trend, even some of the more recent ones that had so much trouble fitting her into frame. Besides them were the ashes of her lusus, preserved in a jar. They were positioned in a way that the sleeper would immediately see them as soon as she woke up.

Most of the room was otherwise taken up by a monstrously huge recuperacoon; a gigantic cocoon, oozing a green ooze with sedative qualities to soothe the mindness rage and lust for blood inflicted upon trolls by mysterious entities in the distant past. It filled up the entire room, which was still a fairly large room despite being small by the hive’s general template standards, and was filled nearly to capacity by a very big, extremely feminine, and rather rigidly built body that had been tossing and turning for some time.

A pair of horns poked out the ground; using human measurements and scaling them up to troll size, they would perhaps have been about five feet long each and two feet wide, from a height of nearly 20 feet, bringing the height of the recuperacoon and its occupant at around 25 feet, by the measurements of trolls (which used different terminology, but was fairly close to the human Imperial measurements).

Both horns extended at an angle, branching into heavy hooks, and one had a large chunk broken out of it, still raw and green all these molts later. They rose up as Polypa groggily stood up to her full height in a slow and groggy way, her amazon figure looking like something being constructed out of the cocoon. It became clear, as the huge distensions at the front moved upwards, and the cocoon shrank inwards as more Polypa rose up, that it was almost all her. Massive shoulders rose out of the cocoon, each one at least a few feet around and looking even bigger from inhuman levels of muscular development; alien analogues to deltoids extending at least a foot away from her in ropey curls, the chitinous armor of her black skin adhering to her form as closely as latex.

The first impression of her was ‘no troll should be that big’. Her presence was a physical force, distorting attention around her like a lead weight shot of a cannon into a wall. The second impression was of sheer, unbelievable muscle mass, swelling out of her to such an extreme that it was hard to tell what was actually her main body, and what was muscle grown so huge and heavy that it had swelled out into a kind of meaty carapace.

Polypa kept rising upwards, and the two huge lumps surged out as a pair of gigantic rumble-spheres, or breasts by human nomenclature; if her belly had been slimmer, they would have dipped down all the way to her thighs, heavy and laden with some form of nectar. Certainly her nipples (or sap ducts, as trolls considered them) were enormously huge, puffy and ready to disgorge into a receptive mouth. Each rumble-sphere was wider than the entire circumference of her body by a foot or so, and would likely have projected out by eight feet, at the least.

They nonetheless looked small compared to her belly, which was the much larger lump beneath her boobs. It flopped out through the lip of the cocoon, which made it deflate and contract in relief around the rest of her admittedly still gargantuan body like a living film. Her stomach surged out and smacked heavily into the ground, denting the floor beneath it, and settled; all of Polypa’s body, nude as she was in the sopor, was absurdly muscular, her body mutated to increase her muscle development to the point that most of her apparent mass was…

Well. Very little of it was her actual body. She was a massive troll even for her size, but most of her bulk was just muscle mass grown straight from her body. Her head, dwarfed by her growth, poked out like someone piloting a mech made of muscles, and seemed startlingly small compared to her overall size.

This beefy carapace was bulkiest around a few specific areas, such as her arms and legs, but nowhere was more heavily muscled than her stomach. Round though it was, abdominal muscles completely encased it, so solidly defined they looked like carved markings on an anatomical engraving; latissimus dorsi like slabs lined the sides beneath her rumble-spheres, external oblique were a muscular rim jutting out over even her enormous hips, and her abdominals proper stuck out so much that they made her belly a surprisingly gravid globe.

That it was nearly as long as she was tall, and wider besides, gave such an awe-inspiring sense of mass. It gurgled faintly, mysterious chemical processes going on in that magnificent gut; it was the secret to her tremendous growth, it's perfect digestion breaking down all food and turning it into raw mass to fuel her increased size and muscle mass. Bones, trees, poisonous fungi, other trolls; if it was organic, Polypa could digest it and neutralize all poison, making them all nothing but fuel for her magnificent form.

It was quite sensitive, to boot; Polypa shivered as her nook and bulk (both swollen to extreme heaviness beneath her belly) rammed into its lower regions, and she grinded her hips into it as an automatic reflex, enjoying a particular abdominal crease she clenched around herself right there, and spent about five minutes ramming into herself, until the early morning lust resolved itself, and her head cleared.

Polypa stepped out of her cocoon, thighs nearly eight feet across and as hyper muscular as the rest of her moved out, her digitigrade legs flexing and the clawed toes powering her out of the cocoon. A short, slim tail bulging with more muscle slapped against a huge butt rather softer-looking than the rest of her body. Her mane of hair fluttered down, messy from the sopor and sliding against her butt too.

Sopor slime dripped off her face, off the scars. The burns were terrible, distorting almost all her face except for a small circle around one eye into a mass of off-green crags and pinched sections, the chitin there half-melted. Even her lips, massively puffy and swelling outwards, had uncomfortable streaks tinting them a faint green from those old injuries. The burns continued down her neck, at least until the swelling piles of her neck muscles swallowed them up.

The chitinous carapace of much of her body still bore some sign of those old burns, all the same. Down her back, a meandering trail across her arms, erratically spiraling around the base of her tail, and a few dappled spots on her thighs and finally the heavy tread of her feet, and even that was still scarred by old fire.

And as she walked out, her body shimmered, psionic energies in her eyes, and heat pulsed out from her hard enough to nearly evaporate the slime off her body on the spot.

With a grumble, Polypa sloughed off, dripping sopor slime off her nude body all the way to the showers, her digitigrade paws scraping her short claws against the ground, and her tail dragging behind to make little trails in that slime behind her.

The shower woke her up a little bit, though it wasn’t easy. Polypa didn’t do well in confined spaces, and even if her shower had been built for over a couple dozen trolls (if they didn’t mind getting unnecessarily intimate), she filled it pretty much to capacity. Her stomach did, mostly, which was the main issue. She kept bumping into things as the water washed the slime off her, and she hissed with suppressed pleasure as her stomach ground sensually into the hydration spigots. There was so much to… entice her. Polypa’s butt ground against the wall, her rumble-spheres were pushed into the ceiling, she had to wedge her face into those rumble-spheres just to avoid headbutting her own ceiling.

And then. Her soft and sensitive muscles pressing into each other with an overpowering friction with every other movement so that this tight space was a sweet kind of hell. And her rumble-spheres, packed tight and full as they were, kept getting pressed against each other, and her face, and the walls, and her own massive arms, and kept gushing out sparkling and frothy streams of green nectar right all over her front like a hose going off, so much that she almost screamed.

A lot of green fluids wound up washing down the drain when she was done. It wasn’t just her nectar either.

Polypa finished her shower, with some embarrassed difficulty, but figured it was best to get that sort of thing out of the way so the need as fierce as her hunger or various other cravings didn’t overwhelm her during her morning run.

A small towel hung by the shower, far too small to dry her off. And the reason why became clear, in this bathroom with the walls so very heavily reinforced by fire-preventing slabs. Heat pulsed from Polypa, and she felt her muscles swell up a bit as she tapped into just a small store of the psionic powers unlocked by her mutations. It was enough for her rather singular talent.

There was probably a technical term for it. In plain terms, she burst into flames.

Heat swirled around her as she glowed, her scars shining even brighter so that their ragged dips and swirls looked like mystical runes, and then she ignited completely, flames exploding from her. It whirled around her like an aura, blasting into every inch of the room with so much force that it was like an explosion going off. The room was reinforced to deal with it, and there was no damage caused.

After a few moments of this, Polypa shut it off. The flames that her body was continously creating and converting raw psionic energy into fire simply went out. She was left still smoking, an exhiliaration and rush still pulsing in her, and there was a faint steam from all the water being evaporated right off of her.

Polypa thought to get dressed, but the pressure in her rumble-spheres demanded otherwise.

She left her bathroom and went to a storage cabinet in one of her hallways. With a stoic expression, she hauled out a milker and slapped its cups to her engorged nipples, her rumble-spheres still totally full, and powered it on as she did her stretches: she bent low, tensing her back and adjusting her back shell and twisting her muscles in various directions, as the milker went to work. She panted in relief and pleasure, both from the feeling of her muscles working, and the sweet delight of being milked.

She twisted her arms up, one after another, and they were massive, broader across than the average troll’s entire body, her biceps nearly eight feet across each, bigger even than her torso. Her rumble-spheres bounced atop her gut, rivers of green flowing down the tubes, and she very carefully maneuvered her arms so she didn’t get lost in the moment and popped something loose; the mess would get everywhere. ...Again.

Then her hips; enormously wide even on her titanic body, swayed back and forth as she limbered up. This went on for about five minutes, and her industrial-grade milker sucked her nectar with commendable ferocity, its contents ejected in several tanks large enough to feed a dozen trolls each for a day. A large milking lusus might be expected to fill one or two a month; Polypa went through a dozen in just those five minutes alone. She kept doing more stretches, and ten minutes passed as she warmed up her body with a variety of movements to wake herself up as much as possible, until a faint burn suggested she was done.

Her belly rumbled, and a faint but demanded emptiness inside her beckoned. Polypa glanced at the many nectar tanks, and reached for the closest one.

The first to slake her hunger, but far from the last. A body like hers demanded a lot of food.

-----

A while later, her belly was stuffed with her own nectar and happily gurgling it away,, and Polypa set off at her morning run, to the expectant delight of the neighborhood.

Her belly was a bit more distended, sloshing audibly with each heavy slap against her bulbous thighs, a slight swelling in the lower regions suggesting various splinter-stomachs had been filled up and were happily digesting her breakfast. Polypa struggled to maintain her sense of decorum, frowning faintly. ‘Can’t believe I went through almost the entire morning stack’, she thought grimly, only a few of the tanks she’d produced tucked under one arm, ready to be sold.

She’d changed, too, after her milking; a sports bra did an admirable job of at least supporting her massive rumble-spheres even if it couldn’t do much to conceal the puffy juts of her nectar-ducts, and a pair of micro exercise shorts showed off her spectacular leg muscles to all their extreme spectacle. Bandages wound around her face, soaked in a sopor derivative to minimize pain to her scars, leaving only one olive-green eye to indicate her feelings. Her big lips did press against her bandages, but she rather liked the impression of that.

More bandages covered pretty much most of her limbs. It was a bit time-consuming to put them all on, but she felt much more comfortable when she had them worn. The sopor treatment kept her scars from hurting or feeling too sensitive, and it also helped her control any periodic outbursts of psionic flames if she got too worked up or surprised. The bandages wound around her arms and fists completely, thin enough to show off her build, and were a bit more sporadic around her legs. They only needed a few loops at the base of her tail, which was just as well; it was hard enough getting that covered.

The bandages had to be changed daily, and more than once Polypa considered moving in with her moirail, Tegiri. He would be happy to help her keep her bandages changed, and she did need to change them every day. It was a lovely thought, imagining him living with her and patiently working the sopor into her scars, or to cuddle him and kiss him, platonically, between his horns, a gesture so pale it almost made her blood-pusher twist in longing.

She wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for that, though.

And her flaming psionics, she thought grimly as she walked, was something to be careful about. Tegiri knew, yes, but even during her occasional expeditions into arson Polypa didn’t like anyone seeing her. Not even her enemies as she slew them. Mutations were treated leniently if you could be useful to the Empire; even something as dramatic as Polypa’s transformation was fine, as long as she could fight for her empress. Olives with psionics were rare, but not too unusual, and her muscles being produced by an excess of psionic energy made an okay explanation, but still: Polypa didn’t want to take any risks. Not to herself, not to Tegiri, not to any of her friends.

Eventually, these serious thoughts winded down, and she got to the serious work of just jogging and getting herself warmed up for the day.

As she ran, her hair swayed with the movements of her monstrously wide hips, gathered into a loose ponytail, the loose bits of mane lengths making a dramatic display against her slabbed back.

Her mouth still cold with the taste of her own delicious nectar, Polypa picked up her speed a bit, her early morning grumpiness fading into a calmer alertness. She didn’t have much to do today; she’d probably have what she euphemistically called ‘commissions’ be brought her way (and that would be another breakfast sorted out, if it happened soon), and certainly she’d meet up with Tegiri in a few hours to do some friendly shopping. There was a particular show she’d recently gotten into and she wanted more merchandise for it, though she was pretty sure Tegiri had mixed feelings on it.

He hadn’t said anything negative about it, though. He normally never held his tongue, and that was a great show of respect. She felt a bit happier thinking about that; it was good to know there were people on your team, however it was expressed.

Polypa completed a couple laps around the neighborhood block she lived, and attracted a small group of muscle enthusiasts, troll boys automatically lured to the biggest and most imposing girl around, and a few who just really wanted to try to be the ones to beat her. They might have been trying to play it cool, but their tails were whipping excitedly, smacking into each other like a little soundtrack playing for Polypa.

She did her best to mind her own business and not bother them, but she just knew they’d be fixed on her. She felt their attention refocus at every wobbling gyration of her swelling backside as her thighs beat it up and down, at the gravid thundering of her gut smacking up and down with her stride-strokes, and a great surge of pride flowed through her at this. Not so long ago, she had been a slimmer troll, and it had been hard to get noticed at all.

Now everyone noticed her. It was gratifying, to say the least.

She kept these thoughts to herself. She always did her best not to say anything to anyone at these times (unknowingly giving herself a reputation for being distant and imposing). She did love the blushes, the looks of shamed infatuation they sent towards her immense bulk and power, but she just had no idea what to do with herself then. She had little experience with it; before moving to this more upscale area, Polypa’s neighbors had generally shied away from a monster like her as a matter of common sense.

Here? People would run right up to you and dare you to snarl back, just as a challenge. Polypa was a direct troll, but she needed a bit of a run to do challenging right back; she usually approached it from the side. She always had a bit of a tense moment whenever someone approached her.

Fortunately, today she didn’t really have to do that. It was a tealblood woman, a stout and busty girl in the uniform of a legislacerator trainee outfit, that ran in a game attempt to keep up with her longer stride. Polypa didn’t know her name, just that she was a reasonably friendly neighbor. “Morning, Miss Goezee,” the competitor said politely, from somewhere around Polypa’s knee at a comfortable distance.

“Sup,” Polypa said shortly.

She noticed her early morning companion glanced up at her, and Polypa was smugly gratified to see a faint tremor in her blinking eyes. A nervous sort of look, even after her living her for half a sweep. Her eyes couldn’t keep from studying the rigid swells of Polypa’s monstrous biceps; the spiky protrusions along her chitin, and the way her chitin slotted so perfectly against the growth of her muscles. The extreme swell of her thigh muscles, her legs swinging out and then slamming back together in a shockwave that sent her belly jiggling right up and down.

Polypa put a little extra swing into it, just for an impish thrill. She had an uncanny control over her muscles, able to flex them in ways impossible for normal trolls, and she flexed at her butt at just the right time to make it wobble in every direction at once, a careful set of clinches threatening to make her sweatpants tear in very sexy ways. Her thighs swelled and contracted, muscles sliding against each other with an audible noise, veins standing out like swollen tubes against her bandages and clothing. Her tail lashed out, accidentally smacking against the tealblood’s shoulder, and then into Polypa’s enormously round bubble butt.

This went on for some time, as they ran a couple laps around the neighborhood, a sweet burn filling Polypa’s muscles with a relieving sense of exercise, the wear and tear making a strange euphoria for her. Polypa’s teasing escalating a bit, to the point that she was briefly blinded by her rumble-spheres slapping up right in front of her eye, blocking her vision, but she still had a sense of her surroundings, and she smirked smugly when the tealblood’s composure slipped, just for a moment. Polypa heard a faint panting noise from her, a sound of longing, desire, and quite a lot of envy.

“Something wrong?” Polypa said, her tone flat and calm enough that she sounded perfectly serious.

The tealblood flinched. Her tail, long and slightly broad like some kind of reptilian monster that snapped at things in rivers a lot, shook a lot with a cute wiggle at the tip. “Absolutely not, Miss Goezee! I was just…” She paused for a brief moment, just enough to sound genuine while also giving her time to come up with an excuse. “Thinking. Yes, indeed.”

Polypa chuckled, in a way conveying that she absolutely did not buy it at all. The tealblood had the dignity to at least scoff and turn her gaze pointedly aside. And, for a while, they and the small crowd of admirers and the curious that Polypa tended to accumulate like an elder god attracted worshipers carried on in silence. Companionable, between Polypa and her neighbor. Tense and adoring and lustful, from the crowd of trolls from across the hemospectrum, their shining eyes fixed on a juggling butt big enough for them to sleep on, on the undulating wobbles of a belly they could all have been sucked down into, the hypnotic wiggling of her muscle-swollen tail, and the slightest shift of her ponytail across shoulders broader than any of them were tall.

Being around them made Polypa feel bigger; it made her feel good. She wondered, sometimes, if the Condesce or her Heiresses ever felt like this, and she supposed that they were so confident and on top of the world that their baseline mood was somewhere past the soaring feeling she got when she really worked out just how much people adored her, sometimes.

Perhaps to change the subject, one of the runners spoke up, his chunky tail curled like a bit of punctuation with a tuft of fluff at the tip. He sped up just to keep pace with Polypa for a brief time; getting too close was an extremely bad idea, as with the one troll who had accidentally been hip-checked by her and had sort of… splattered. “How’d do you get your belly to stay stable like that?” He asked, apparently honestly curious.

Polypa glanced down at him, and he froze up so much he almost tripped in the resulting leg confusion. Fortunately for his dignity, he managed to keep moving. “Whaddaya mean?”

“Your stomach should be hitting the floor. It’s, big. Really, really big. How do you keep it up like this?”

“I got real good muscle control, and VERY strong belly muscles.” Polypa raised her arms up over her back, and just for a moment, relaxed. The muscles lining the side of her belly went limp, and her stomach sank against her approaching leg, kicked back into the air. Polypa winced at the sensation overload, and the heat in her hips, but she mastered it and devoted a tiny bit of concentration to her belly muscles again. They stiffened, encircling her gut like a built-in girdle or harness, and pulled up, raising her stomach to a marginally more practical level.

He goggled. “How do you even keep concentrating enough for that!?”

“It’s a gift.” She wiggled one huge claw scoldingly. “Pretty sure it's rude to ask too much about hemospectrum-compliant mutations, kiddo!” He swallowed, taking the point, and slowed down until he was again part of the crowd.

Polypa secretly crowed to herself as she passed the rest of her morning run in relative silence, the milk jugs nestled into her biceps already processed to food-quality levels by the sheer force of her body’s impact on them; she needed very sturdy containers just to survive it, and avoid additional leakings. But she loved those kinds of questions. Seeing those tiny faces off the ground, staring up at her in envy, in awe, in open admiration of her and the smallest details of her body…

She loved it. She got questions like that every day, and she had gotten good at pretending to be the confident and cool badass she assumed people expected someone as big and strong as her to be. She privately made a note to study some shows later, to really look for hints on being as cool and inspiring as possible. She was pretty sure she’d missed on the empathetic and distant vibe that she was trying really hard to project.

One by one, people peeled away, still giving her longing looks. Polypa felt a vague sense of loss, as if not having worshipful eyes on a particular part of her body at once was a physical pain to her.

Ah, well. She continued onwards, leaving her neighbor and the others behind to their own business.

-------

Her own business came up as she fitted herself, with some difficulty, into a warehouse used by an acquaintance who sold slightly illicit and moderately discouraged merchandise. She felt her palmhusk, as trolls called their equivalents to cellphones, vibrating in a concealed pocket against her vast hip, and her tail looped in to fetch it out as she dropped the milk jugs onto a counter. With a sense of irony, she peered down at a yellowblood, who put some effort to look spooky, from between her other milk jugs (to turn a phrase) and said, “The regular stuff, on demand.”

The yellowblood whistled, tapping the jug. It gave the faint echo of a container full of liquid, and he popped it open to dip a cup in. He took a swig and visibly wavered back, his tail slapping against the ground to keep him upright. “Geez, that’s almost as strong as a dose of the mind honey! Without the side effects, too.” He wiped off a smear of green nectar from his mouth and sealed the jug up again. “The stuff you bring in keeps getting thicker and stronger; I’m making a killing off it! Where the hell are you getting this stuff?”

Polypa, as far as she knew the only troll who had mutated to produce nectar in these amounts, shrugged. “Hey, don’t make me give up trade secrets, buddy.” Her palmhusk continued buzzing insistently.

“Fair enough.” He turned around and got to a load-bearer, his own mild psionics levitating the jug to it.

Polypa turned around, discreetly. The other troll’s back was turned, and she never could be too careful, given her real line of work. Her palmhusk wasn’t holding a call, just a text message. Her expression didn’t change as she saw the plain message there.

It didn’t have a return name; she made a point to avoid specific names, even from repeat commissioners. She didn’t want to get embroiled in political conflicts or highblood power struggles, or even underground revolutions she hadn’t made a choice to side with. She did what she had to, as everyone did. Nevertheless, she was pretty sure she knew this one; as usual, it was signed off with a strange sign that looked a bit like a pair of shackles, or crab’s claws.

The message, unsigned, read: ‘cerulean target. Is in your vicinity. Has unfavorable proclivities, if that mmmmatters mmmmuch for your commmmfort.’ this was followed up by a photo of a tall troll woman; her skin the deep black of a grown troll, her armor polished and chipped away as if to imply she had no need of natural protection; her claws long and thick, her fangs almost like a rainbow drinkers, and her huge belly and massive rumble-spheres so enormously swollen even in her clothes that Polypa was stunned. That was a lot of troll.

Her appetites had shifted over the years, and her belly rumbled at the sight of her… well, prey.

Polypa checked her appointment schedules, and studied the time. She calculated the odds of resolving this in, say, twenty minutes or so.

Okay, she decided. She might cut it kind of close, but she could pull it off.

She banged a hand on the counter, almost cracking it into pieces. “Gotta head off, man. See you with my next batch tomorrow!” She paused. “Um. Someone else busted up your counter!”

“No they didn’t!” he scolded her from deeper in the warehouse as she hurried away.

-------

As a rule, Polypa didn’t much like going into rich areas, even if she was big and imposing enough to pass as any shade of highblood she cared to attempt. She didn’t care much about the hemospectrum as some did, but the idea of pretending to be a colder shade just gave her the screaming willies.

For such a massive troll, Polypa moved through it in complete silence. She didn’t move in the open, either, but she climbed up sheer walls, above the oblivious highbloods and driving her claws on both hands and feet right into the plasticine exteriors, and hauling herself up. The weight of her belly pressed against the walls, and wiggling her legs underneath her stomach, provided so much leverage that she was effectively catapulting herself upwards. It was a bit of a mystery how she was able to still be silent, doing that.

Her biggest advantage, as far as potential onlookers were concerned, is that trolls didn’t often look up.

She slid against the wall, moving so smoothly and quickly she seemed to be sliding straight up it. Her inability to see over her gigantic rumble-spheres or in front of her at all from her belly, it did not hamper her very much. Polypa’s muscles weren’t just impossibly strong, flexible, or in some way fusing with her body fat, but a unique property of their outer surfaces functioned as an all purpose sensory organ. Her twitching, veiny and swollen muscles could ‘see’ as well as anything else, and given that even the compact muscles stuck out a full foot away from her body, she had a 360-degree view of everything around her, to the smallest detail.

So up she went, hopping from one wall to the next, leaving behind surprisingly little damage. These buildings were made from very high quality breeding lines of bio-structure, and they’d eventually heal the damage. Not quickly, but they would repair themselves. Holes in the wall from her claws that would heal eventually, and deeper dents where her belly had moved up there, impressions of her abs.

Polypa climbed up to the ceilings, and quietly made her way to the next rooftop, and all the while, her muscles kept twitching. Her unique vision showed her an elaborate neighborhood of sprawling buildings and expansive complexes, most of them shining with gilt and complicated murals that advertised how fabulously rich they were.

Polypa turned her attention from the most opulent buildings to the ones that were still richer than anything she’d normally have gotten in her entire life, the ones that had a little less gold or imported coral hauled right from the seas where the Condesce supposedly had arisen like a particularly bloody-handed goddess out of ancient fables. Highbloods, as a rule, had the money to afford decorations like that as a matter of course, but the warmer their shades, the less extreme it got.

She flowed across what were probably proper blueblood homes, the wings of the mansions providing plenty of space to move skyward and get a better view for her target. She turned herself slowly, biceps swelling and pivoted in such a way that was probably a little similar to a telescope aligning itself for the best possible vision. The armored sections shone like polished latex, and she moved carefully towards manors that were less gilt-studded, but far more rich than teal homes like what Tegiri lived in.

The homes of cerulean trolls. Tradition and population distribution usually saw them living near the sea, perhaps an echo of their traditional role as naval powers, but that wasn’t really an option for the few ceruleans in subgrubs like this. That said, they tended to look a fair bit like boats that had been flipped around, and Polypa found what she was looking for sitting around all seductively near a energy-burst shop designed to look like a swashbucklers arena, and considering the many flags around it, it made it quite useful for Polypa to gently swing her way across the rooftops to it, and then down.

The troll matched the photos. She was tall, perhaps nearly up to Polypa’s mid-thigh, her horns dramatically hooked at various angles; even the gashes in her horns looked hook-shaped. Her stance was haughty, her high ankles and foot-claws secured in spiked high heels that made her look even taller than she already was. Every bit as buxom and stout as her photo had suggested; the tight skirt and half-dress she wore clung to her body like a wrapper, and the whole image would have been nicely set off by long hair, rather than the short and prim bun she actually did have her quills pulled into.

Between the fishnets, her glasses, and the general air of cold disdain she projected, Polypa felt that she was giving an impression somewhere between ‘high class dominatrix’ and ‘librarian you do NOT want to cross’. Polypa withheld other judgments; she was a mercenary, not someone who made judgments. Still, she was getting very good at giving a feel off people, and she did not like the feeling she got off this troll.

And no one came her way if they didn’t deserve to be killed, in some way. Her callsign for this business was ‘Goezee’s Lightbulbs; I Make The Universe Brighter’. Nothing made things brighter like getting rid of people who made it worse.

Polypa waited, and mulled over a few plans to draw her out, and they all fizzled up as her target got up and swaggered towards the side of the building, out of sight of the main street on some errand, and most importantly from a tactical perspective, right below Polypa.

Her target didn’t look up, either, and it was a grave mistake for her.

Briefly praising the good luck of this morning, Polypa swung her gut off the gargoyle she had positioned it on, and the bit of statuary broke off in surrender to the inexorable pressure of Polypa’s body; it plummeted down, banging against the ground right next to the cerulean; she paused, her haughtiness freezing and her swinging stride halt. “What?” She said, looking for the noise. And above her, as the gargoyle piece had fallen, Polypa had taken advantage of it and crawled down the side of the building just like she had crawled up other walls early, her eyes glowing a faint green.

No one looking in from the street could see them, despite Polypa’s immense size. All the better.

The target picked up the gargoyle piece. “Who is littering around here?” She wondered aloud, not noticing a massive shadow falling over her until Polypa landed on her, belly first.

The noise was surprisingly soft, because Polypa held her gut back as much as possible, so it wouldn’t hit with all its force, but it was still enough to break nearly every bone in her target’s body, and the volume of it muffled her pained screams. Polypa didn’t say anything to her: not ‘shush’ or ‘be quiet’, or anything like that; she took it as a matter of professional dignity not to open up a dialogue with her targets. She had standards, after all.

Polypa’s belly wriggled, and the abs writhed, and clenched in ways that grabbed at her target’s body, slowly hauling her up with a few solitary whimpers. They kept her pinned firmly into Polypa’s belly, so that she couldn’t yell for help or otherwise alert anyone, and Polypa hissed at the marvelous bulge-pumping shiver of the curvy body being slid against her stomach, her muscles twitching and giving under her, molding to her and little fibrous bunches clutching her as tight as firm hands, and the yielding of her target’s own body. Her waist was wide against her, her rumble-spheres squished so nicely into her.

‘Focus’, she told herself as she did her best not to pant or anything. Stay on track. Do not get all… ravenous.

Her target was forced up into her rumble-spheres, and by now Polypa was able to grab her with her hands, forcing her upwards, making sure to squeeze her hard enough that she couldn’t breath enough to yell. And now Polypa was tugging her bandages off, just enough to reveal her mouth.

Her target’s face briefly curled into disgust at her scars, and Polypa was gratified to see her face sour into a horrified look as Polypa’s mouth widened. “No! You don’t dare-!”

Polypa’s massive lips met against her face, sucking on her so hard the breath was forced out of her air-sacs, and then her face slid right into her mouth, resting on her tongue. Several tickling feelings went on in Polypa’s jaws as several biological locks opened themselves; sinews and chitinous ‘pins’ kept her lower jaw together. A troll’s lower jaw was actually a pair of mandibles, normally locked together. But they could separate, to swallow particularly big meals.

Such as this cerulean, for instance.

Polypa’s lower jaw split, gaping wide and spreading wider than her face, her mandibles spreading out into her rumble-spheres, and a thick, green membrane connected them. The cerulean’s face was mashed into this, outlined against its surface, her rumble-spheres and shoulders mashing into the rubbery ring that was Polypa’s lips; without any real effort, Polypa pushed her in, her head, her rumble-spheres and her shoulders all easily sliding down her throat.

Polypa swallowed. Her throat muscles were as strong as the rest of her; more bones broke, and she felt her prey squirm in pained reflex as her chitin was pulverized nearly off her body, shards and fragments sliding down her moist insides. The lovely sensation of a solid, moving mass sliding down her mouth, moving down her meat-slide. Her prey’s thick body, her big belly, her huge butt; none of it posed a hindrance. It all slid down with a delicious ease, down into her guts.

The plural mattered. Polypa’s on-going mutation had multiplied her stomachs into a complex network to digest her food, treating them to a chemical process perhaps more similar to industrial refinement until they were a raw biological soup, or perhaps an organic grist, that her body simply absorbed and converted into energy and more muscles.

Her digestive fluids gushed in, drenching the cerulean still doing her best to wriggle inside Polypa; she said something, but Polypa’s belly was several feet thick, her abs even bulkier, and any sound was muffled. Polypa simply enjoyed the sensation, for a while, and lay there.

The first stage was simple enough; her pre-treatment fluids gushed in, drenching her prey and invading her body through her mouth, absorbed through her skin, plumping her up and softening her skin, bones and muscles.

Fifteen minutes passed in this manner. Polypa suspected she was pushing her luck, in her meeting with Tegiri and hanging around this neighborhood without getting noticed, and shakily stood up. It was harder to get up now, with an additional weight inside her, but it felt very good, her sliding around inside her-

Oh, she just slid down, into a secondary stomach. She must have been primed and, well. Juiced; Polypa suspected that anyone in that situation probably looked considerably puffier and slimy. She was still wriggling in there, though not very much.

As Polypa hurried out of the cold neighborhood, other fluids pumped into that belly, efficiently absorbed by the treated flesh of her target, who was pinned down, compressed by the stomach walls pressing down on her like a trash compactor. Polypa felt her wriggling slow down, and something in the texture of the troll in her guts shift. It wasn’t much of a change. It took days for her live prey to fully digest, and they were zoned out of their minds for most of it, and there wasn’t any particular change at this point, but Polypa supposed this stage of the digestion process started doing something to their body. Made it a bit more fluid, perhaps.

As Polypa went on her way, hurrying along and enjoying the bubbling sensations going on inside her, the cerulean calmed down completely. She felt a few solitary wriggles, possibly out of habit. Her belly muscles kept her pinned, but only because that was her default flex; the chemicals injected into her must have had a sedative quality, perhaps not too different from the sopor, because all her live prey went very quiet and peaceful extremely quickly.

Polypa called a buggy, and put her target out of her mind, apart from a few pleasured shivers at the way she slid down into another belly to be pumped full of digestive fluids on the gradual route into being reforged into bulk for Polypa’s muscles, thicker nectar glands, a bigger butt, perhaps a few more inches to her height, and incidentally making the universe better for her absence.

Alternian society did not have much of a problem with this sort of thing; Polypa upsetting the hemospectrum would have been the issue, and she didn’t much care anymore.

As her buggy arrived, Polypa mused that as so much of her bulk had come from assassinations she had carried out like this, her body was a testament to the number of people she’d removed from the world. She flexed a little bit, and catching a sight of her magnificent biceps, and a glimpse of the gigantic abs rising up even over her cleavage horizon, it was a warming thought.

Polypa sent a quick message to her commissioner. ‘Job’s done * will update you further in a few days.’

She received a fairly prompt reply, so ambiguously worded that they could have been talking about artwork or a coding commission. ‘That was speedy. Will update you for any further jobs. You how it is; always a little mmmmore to do.”

Polypa texted back. “Sure thing * always good to do your work * you’re reliable at these, you know that? *|’

Before she left, Polypa bent low, picking up the gargoyle statuary she had destroyed, and deposited it in the nearest salvaging bin. She might have been an assassin, but she wasn’t a litterer.

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

Tegiri was a quiet troll, and had a way of fading away even when he was the only guy in the room. In a crowd, he became a background detail, lurking there, and drifting like a shadow.

Here and now, his shift from passively lurking to moving so abruptly he appeared to have materialized, was marked by an especially large buggy not so much rolling up, as sliding in, a bit like a cholera-bear that was opting to move without actually engaging it’s legs at all.

It rose up as its passenger departed. The long, heavy horns of Polypa appeared over the other side, and then rose up as she stood to her full size, stretching. People around froze up and turned to look at her bulbous form with awe, their eyes fixed on the shift of her platform-sized shoulders, and those closer to her were totally still, their eyes wide, completely overwhelmed by the sheer scale of Polypa unexpectedly appearing before them.

‘Weak’, Tegiri thought unsympathetically. If you couldn’t handle a little bit of majesty in your life, how were you supposed to serve the Condesce?

His secret shame was that he sincerely believed, in the rare moments where he could admit it to himself, was that he thought that Polypa looked far more impressive and mighty than the to-scale images and models he had seen of the Condesce.

A great heresy, to be sure, but he didn’t care about that anymore. It bothered him that he didn’t care, but as the days went on, it didn’t bother him as much.+

Polypa bowed again out of sight behind the buggy, to discuss something with the driver. At least, if you didn’t count her belly sticking out and rising above it, with her rumble-spheres buoyed atop it, and her backside very plainly visible from the other end, her tail curling around one leg and the tip wiggling anxiously. Tegiri couldn’t hear the fine details of what Polypa might have been saying, not over the soft murmurs from the crowd around both his side of the street and hers, but he had his suspicions; the buggy WAS a lot lower in the street, and any vehicle trying to carry her tremendous weight was bound to sacrifice itself in that noble goal.

The buggy tipped over briefly; Tegiri supposed that Polypa had thrust one muscular arm in it, with such force that the air moving from her hand alone had nearly knocked it over; if he knew Polypa, it was to over-pay the driver in apology for any damage transporting her had incurred. He made a point to suggest to the local consort-governance, running the city on behalf of the Heiress, to make a budget specifically for repairing damage caused by especially big trolls like her.

Then, she was moving across the street. Slowly, yes, actively trying not to put so much force as she could into it, but she still moved so fast that she seemed to have bounded straight from one side of the street to the next. He didn’t blinked, but it felt like he had, because now a vast shadow loomed over him, and it was Polypa, her body blotting out the moonlight, her squishy chitin shining an iridescent pink and green He mostly just saw her stomach, her great work and the pride of her carefully sculpted body, and he felt a great surge of diamond-pale affection as she patted her belly, smiling faintly down at him. Long ago, their most ancient ancestors had gathered, and the small weak ones had gathered to the big, strong troll-women to protect them, and he supposed he felt something of that.

The oldest forms of the quadrants had been built from strong things. Love, certainly. Affection, reassurance. The need to stabilize others. Safe venues to voice the aggression and test oneself against a worthy lover. And for Tegiri, one of the strongest feelings was loyalty.

He saw a hand move from inside her stomach. Briefly, barely budging against a broad abdominal, and no one else could have seen it but him, his eyes adapted to note anything that might be wrong with Polypa.

Polypa’s express changed, just for a moment, and Tegiri knew what that had been. He knew the fear of disapproval.

Tegiri gazed up at Polypa, and followed up on a decision he had already made some time ago. He patted her stomach, almost stroking her belly, at the spot where her prey had moved. “You’ve been doing art commissions already?” He asked. “This early in the morning?”

Polypa stared blankly, until her one revealed eye blinked. Oh, right; the code they’d agreed to. “Yeah; figured I might as well do it as early as possible… thought I’d get it done before meeting up with you. I wasn’t trying to delay meeting up with you, or anything!”

“IT’s fine, it’s fine!” Tegiri said quickly. Polypa instantly calmed down, her raising chitinous plates lowering into something less agitated. “I just wondered… you didn’t have to use, ah.” He thought of a way to phrase it without giving her away. “Colder shades in your work, did you? That can be troublesome.”

She worked out what she meant, and like a mountain inclining, nodded her head gravely. “Yeah. You know i usually do.”

Yeah, I killed a highblood today. Again.

It was a bold thing, he knew, to just say that to a tealblood, one charged with enforcing the law, with killing mutants and accusing those they felt like bringing low. In sweeps not so long ago, when he had been younger, he would have enforced his imperial duty, without a second thought.

Now, though…

He patted her stomach again, and Polypa purred shortly, a dense rumble that spread out and made the windows rattle. “Well, you do what you must,” he said firmly. “I support you regardless, my moirail.”

Polypa grinned, leaning down (knocking a few people away with her on-rushing belly, and she was too focused on Tegiri to notice or care much) and raised a fist, extending two claws in a triangle shape.

He extended his own claws in a similar pose, and pressed them against digits nearly thick around as his entire arm, and completed the diamond. Then her hand moved downwards, to his sleeve, and took a gentle but inescapably firm grip, pulling him protectively close to her leg. “C’mon, let’s get our shopping in,” she said, smiling behind her bandages.

Tegiri was not much for open displays of emotion. He found big smiles a hard thing to maintain, a performative thing that he struggled with. Nevertheless, he smiled easily around her. Being around her made a lot of things easier.

Accepting things he’d never thought he could ever begin to even consider, for one.

Polypa led him onwards, and though there wasn’t really anything he could realistically do to stop her, she would if he asked, but he saw no reason to alter her course. He was loyal to her above all else now, even though the changes to his world view this demanded was upsetting at first, and would accommodate her however she wanted.

Even if it meant indulging her fondness for some anime series he absolutely detested, but when they left, carrying quite a lot of new model assembly kits from a recent series she’d absolutely fallen in love with, Tegiri felt fine with that.

It was all just part of the routine now, and he didn’t mind being adaptable.

#/#//#///#////#/////#queued #commissions #my writing #fics #twitchy!homestuck #twitchy!polypa #twitchy!tegiri

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titaniaslilsims · 5 years ago

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Elia Mcgill

Below the cut is all of Elia’s cc, other outfits, and my Origin ID. Please reblog her if you like her!

Origin ID: Ezra5149

Genetics

Skin: https://sims3melancholic.tumblr.com/post/178118031667/dl-credits-ob-s-c-u-r-us-info-for-all

Eyebrows: https://goppolsme.wixsite.com/goppolsme/single-post/2019/05/13/GPME-GOLD-F-Eyebrows-G10

Eyes: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1s3Ae-2ldDLai6kO0IJ7AfZbm3XUCLcGY/view

Skin Detail Blush: https://squeamishsims.tumblr.com/post/185846308452/booboo-blush-by-squeamishsims-so-ive-tried-so

Eyelashes: Kijiko

Freckles: https://love4sims4.tumblr.com/post/184367423888/bluesparkling-kiwifruit-freckles-just-some

Hair: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-hair-hairstyles-female/title/leahlillith-tori-hair/id/1405228/

Sleep Hair: https://simpliciaty.blogspot.com/2017/05/fireproof-hair-mesh-edit.html

Tattoos: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-accessories-female-tattoos/title/witch-tattoos/id/1461343/

Makeup

Blush: https://www.simsdom.com/en/download/the-sims4/item/4w25-blush-n7-203773

Eyeshadow: N44 Opehlia https://www.patreon.com/posts/eyeshadow-30015795

Lipstick 1: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-makeup-female-lipstick/title/%5B-bubble-%5D--glossy-lip-colour/id/1366003/

Lipstick 2: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-makeup-female-lipstick/title/s-club-ll-ts4-lipstick-201904/id/1457966/

Eyeliner 1: https://goppolsme.wixsite.com/goppolsme/single-post/2017/10/06/GPME-Liner-cc2

Eyeliner 2: Mordio https://pralinesims.tumblr.com/post/188777326499/here-is-a-set-that-ive-been-working-on-for-a

Accessories

Nail polish: N02 Matte https://www.patreon.com/posts/arm-hand-30354144

Necklace 1: Choker Necklace Spectrum https://www.patreon.com/posts/necklace-30529218

Necklace 2: Choker Necklace Mobius https://www.patreon.com/posts/necklace-30529218

Earrings: Vio (L) https://www.patreon.com/posts/earring-ultimate-30671297

Rings: Cheria https://www.patreon.com/posts/arm-hand-30354144

Everyday Wear

Boots: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-shoes-female-teenadultelder/title/pzc-madlen-mitra-boots-recolour%28mesh-included%29/id/1481621/

Dress: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/quinn-dress/id/1471303/

Formal Wear

Formal Dress: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/lucy-outfit/id/1476099/

Formal Heels: https://blewis50.tumblr.com/post/143648762172/simpliciaty-mcqueen-shoes-first-and-probably

Swim Wear

Swimsuit: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/trillyke--focus-swimsuit/id/1451074/

Summer Wear

Summer Dress: https://mostlyvoidpartiallysims.tumblr.com/post/188823954353/sweet-sixteen-saw-a-cute-homecoming-dress-on

Summer Sneakers: https://www.thesimsresource.com/members/Darte77/downloads/details/category/sims4-sets/title/converse-all-star-sneakers/id/1475519/

Workout Wear

Workout Top: https://mochizencc.wixsite.com/mzcc/her-hoodie-color-blocks-vers-sims-4

Workout Bottoms: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-Athletic/title/adidas-athletic-shorts-9010/id/1481192/

Sleep Wear

Sleep Dress: https://www.thesimsresource.com/artists/ekinege/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/swiss-dot-mini-dress/id/1459436/

Party Wear

Party Top: Alyssa top Simpliciaty

Party Skirt: https://moontrait.tumblr.com/post/616598063239299072/moontrait-bedelia-skirt-i-separated-the-skirt-from

Tassel Shoes: https://sims4marigold.blogspot.com/2016/01/tassel-plat-form-heels.html

Winter Wear

Winter Boots: https://www.lumy-sims.com/2019/04/dusk-shoes.html

Winter Dress: https://gorillax3.tumblr.com/post/186305862569/turtleneck-dress-shirt-full-body-new-mesh-all

#s4cc #sims #sims 4 #sims creator #sims cas #mysims #sorrydonthaveposesyet #shelookskindacringeinsome #lol

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searchingwardrobes · 6 years ago

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This Girl Ain’t Going Anywhere: 1/2

Here it is – the fic I’ve been working on for @katie-dub's birthday! Darling, I hope you had a fantastic day! I know this is even later than I had promised because it’s past midnight now where you are, but this one just kind of got away from me. I realized when I hit 6,000 words that it was going to have to be a two-parter. But I still refuse to have another WIP – I won’t be working on anything else until I finish part two. I cannot handle one more WIP – you hear me muse?!?

Anyways, for those of you who don’t know @katie-dub, she is an incredibly talented writer who achieves one of the hardest things in my opinion – humor. I laugh so much when I read her fics! Yet she also tugs at my heart strings. She also was sweet enough to chat with me during my mini-crisis while writing my csbb when my beta @distant-rose introduced us. We just talked about our kids, which always puts things in perspective! Thank you for taking the time to reach out to me, sweetie, it meant so much! Anyways, I hope you like this Enchanted Forest AU in which Liam Jones is very much alive and a pirate along with his brother. Part Two will be coming soon, I promise!

Summary: The Brothers Jones have built a reputation as the most feared pirates in all the realms. When they hear of the bounty on the heads of two princesses - The Princess of Fire and the Princess of Ice – they don’t hesitate to set sail on the Jolly Roger to hunt them down. But have the Brothers Jones finally met their match?

Rating: T

Also on Ao3 and part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @teamhook @bethacaciakay @snidgetsafan @kday426 @delirious-latenight-laughs @let-it-raines @xhookswenchx @optomisticgirl @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic

I've been a winding road, oh, I know you know. Sometimes a stranger in my home. Keep going back and forth through the open door. I'm still learning to be still. This girl ain’t going anywhere. I can promise you this, now I know for sure. This girl ain’t going anywhere.

Captain Liam Jones stood at the bow of the Jolly Roger, his hands clasped behind his back. His first mate, Killian Jones, approached him with a confident stride. He took his place beside his brother, his own shoulders back, his own hands clasped behind his back. The younger Jones fit the look of a pirate with his long leather coat, his crimson vest, the kohl around his eyes, the charms resting against his chest, and the piercings in his earlobes. Liam Jones, on the other hand, was dressed more simply. Still all in black, but his pants weren’t the tight leather of his brother’s and his shirt was of a simple muslin. A rapier left over from his naval days hung at his hip rather than the cutlass his brother carried.

“The crew have their orders, Captain,” Killian told his brother formally, still gazing out at sea, “we should arrive at the Misthaven port in a fortnight.”

“We aren’t navy anymore, little brother, there’s no need to be so formal.”

“Younger brother,” Killian corrected automatically, turning to study his brother’s profile, “but this particular venture brings those days back to the forefront, do they not?”

The piercing look Liam gave him communicated more than words that he didn’t wish to discuss it further. The two brothers‘ conversation was cut short anyway as a nervous, portly man rushed towards them, twisting his red knit cap in his hands.

“Beg your pardon, Cap’n,” Mr. Smee stuttered, “but the rest of the crew asked me to ask you . . . “

Liam sighed and rolled his eyes, “Spit it out, bos’un.”

“Doesn’t this job seem a little . . . dangerous?”

“Dangerous?” Killian snapped, striding into the man’s personal space. “Are we or are we not pirates, Smee? Danger is what we live for.”

“Um . . . yes, sir, it’s just . . . witch’s? One that can wield fire? I mean, a ship is made of wood -”

“The Jolly Roger is made of enchanted wood,” Liam snapped in defense of his ship.

“But is she fireproof, C-Cap'n?” Smee asked hesitantly. His cap was now damp in his sweaty palms.

“The Princess of Fire and the Princess of Ice is what they call them,” Liam replied, striding away from Smee as if dismissing his concerns completely, “not witches.”

Smee looked nervously at the younger Jones, not sure how this was supposed to ease the crew’s fears.

“Remind the crew of the bounty being offered on these two women by half the kingdoms in the realm,” Killian told him, “and if they question their captain’s orders again, walking the bloody plank will be their lot.”

Smee swallowed and replaced his cap on his head with shaking hands. “Y-yes sir.” He hurried away from the Brothers Jones.

Killian watched as Liam’s shoulders sagged and his chin dropped to his chest. Princess Emma of Misthaven had fled her kingdom after supposedly injuring her younger brother, Prince Leopold. Princess Elsa of Arendelle had likewise been supposedly banished after her ice magic erupted dangerously at her sister’s engagement ball. While Misthaven and Arendelle wanted their crown princesses unharmed, naturally, the rest of the realm was in a panic at what magic-wielding royals could do. In short, they were on the brink of war.

“Do you really think they’re together?” Killian asked softly.

“Aye, I do,” Liam said, his jaw clenching and his eyes flashing, “they were together often in their youth. Like sisters, everyone said.”

“Yes,” Killian said softly, leaving the obvious unsaid, “like sisters.”

********************************************************

The port of Misthaven was normally a difficult one for pirates. Queen Snow and King David were passionate about the safety of their people and brought swift judgment on anyone who threatened it. Yet with Camelot, Agrabah, Glowerhaven, and several other kingdoms mounting possible military might against them, Misthaven was too busy to think about pirates. Liam and Killian were free to scour the taverns and markets for any gossip that might lead them to Princess Emma’s hiding place while their crew restocked the ship. Yet their search for information led them to one dead end after another, and they ended the day back on the Jolly Roger unsure of what their next move should be. Blessedly, the answers they sought came to them.

“Permission to board!” a hooded figure called out. It was clearly a woman, and a young one at that, judging by her high, sweet voice.

“Maybe you should let me talk,” said a taller, broader figure at her side, also cloaked.

“I was taught to negotiate in the palace,” the first one hissed, “so let me do this.”

Killian and Liam exchanged knowing smiles.

“Permission granted,” Liam told her, then waited until she had stepped off the gangplank to add, “Princess Anna.”

The young woman gasped at first, then backpedaled. “What do you mean? I’m no princess, my name is . . . Joan.”

“Mhm,” Liam chuckled, then nodded at his brother with an unspoken order.

Killian sauntered to the young woman, ignoring the way her male companion stepped slightly in front of her protectively. He reached over the man’s shoulder and pushed the hood off Anna’s head.

“I see you’re still wearing your hair in braids,” Killian smirked, “just like when you were twelve and peeking around the columns while your sister danced with the naval officers.”

Anna’s eyes grew wide as she glanced between the two pirates. “So the rumors are true! You used to be in King George’s navy, and this ship used to be The Jewel of the Realm!”

“Aye,” Liam told her, “so what can we do for you, princess?”

Anna squared her shoulders. “We heard you asking around about Princess Emma’s whereabouts, and like you, I believe she and my sister are together. I also think I know where to look first. We know the bounty the other kingdoms are offering for their capture. We offer double to bring them home safely instead.” She pulled out a purple velvet pouch and tossed it to the ships’s deck. Gold coins spilled out. “That’s an advance – it's only ten percent of what you’ll get if you complete the mission.”

Killian knew what his brother would say, even as Liam pretended to think, weighing the coins in his hand. “I suppose twice the gold would be worth it,” the elder Jones finally answered, “but let me be clear, princess, this is a pirate ship. We take orders from no crown.”

“I understand,” Anna said with a tilt of her chin, “but I must demand that we go with you. In order to ensure my sister’s safety. Otherwise, we won’t share the information we have.”

“Demand?” Liam bit out, striding into Anna’s personal space.

Killian was impressed that the girl didn’t back down. Her companion – Killian wondered if it was her fiancé - lifted a placating hand.

“We will submit to your authority on this ship, Captain Jones,” the young man said with surprising diplomacy, “but we might need to set sail sooner rather than later?”

“Why is that?” Liam snapped.

“Because of the Camelot knights who recognized us in the market.” The man pushed his own hood back, and sure enough, it was the commoner Kristoff who had won the young princess’s heart.

Liam’s eyes widened, and he quickly turned to bark commands at his crew. Killian strode forward and jabbed a finger in the faces of their new passengers. “Get below deck and out of sight until we say otherwise,” he bit out. Damn royalty.

***********************************************

Killian was at the helm, and they were heading for Avra – one of the lonely islands. Anna had told them that her sister had written of the place in her journal. A sorcerer was rumored to live there who could “cure” those cursed with magic.

The stars twinkled overhead, and the rest of the crew as well as their guests had already turned in for the night. Killian was in no rush to lay on the floor of the captain’s quarters. It wasn’t that he minded giving up his own quarters for Princess Anna. He had endured worse sleeping arrangements duiring his days of servitude. It was the memories he knew would plague him as he waited for sleep to come. He wondered how long Liam would pore over the charts and maps littering his desk to avoid the exact same thing.

The quiet of the night was shattered by shouts. Killian’s eyes widened as members of the crew dragged a boy up to the top deck. The lad kicked and twisted in attempts to get free before being thrust at Killian’s feet.

“We found a stowaway,” Smee explained.

Killian frowned down at the boy. “I can see that. Why did you not take him to my brother?”

“We tried, he . . . uh . . wasn’t in the mood to be disturbed.”

Killian sighed and ran a hand down his face. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Murderer,” the child screamed, lunging for the pirate.

Killian just smiled in amusement as the crew held the boy back. “You have spunk, lad.” He leaned closer. “You’re right that I’m a murderer. I am a pirate, after all.”

“I won’t let you kill my mother!”

Killian’s jaw dropped. He scrutinized the boy’s face. “Why do you think I’m plotting to kill your mother?”

“Like you said, you’re a pirate. You’re hunting my mother for the bounty on her head.”

“And your mother would be . . . “

“Princess Emma.”

Killian blinked and shook his head. “The princess is unwed, she has no son.”

“A woman can have a child without a husband. Even I know that, and I’m only eight.”

Killian would have chuckled if the news hadn’t thrown him. He regarded the child quizzically as he rubbed his chin. He waved off the rest of the crew, and they headed silently below deck.

“When did you sneak aboard the Jolly?”

“As soon as you and the captain left. I’m small, so no one noticed.”

“Well then,” Killian told him with a smile and a slap to the shoulder, “you missed the big news. Princess Anna of Arendelle offered us twice the reward to help bring her sister and your mother home safely.”

Killian had to bite his cheek to hold back another chuckle as the boy regarded him suspiciously.

“Seriously?”

Killian arched a brow and pointed over the child’s shoulder. “Princess Anna is in my quarters. Do you wish to wake her and question her?”

“Um . . . no. I guess you wouldn’t make that up.

“What’s your name?”

“Henry.”

“And what exactly was your plan when you stowed away on a pirate ship, Henry? Fight us all for your mother?”

“If I had to,” Henry declared, sticking out his chest. Then he quickly deflated. “It’s my fault she ran away. She was afraid she’d hurt me.”

“Like she hurt Prince Leopold?”

Henry shook his head. “She didn’t hurt Prince Leo . . . she hurt me – but it was an accident!” He hurriedly defended his mother, his love for her clear in his tone.

Killian paced the deck, trying to reconcile things in his mind. “But I don’t understand. Prince Leo is still a boy himself, and yet you -”

“I’ve been hidden away,” the young prince explained. “and the math shouldn’t be that hard. You’re a sailor, aren’t you?”

Killian couldn’t hold back the chuckle this time. “Sarcastic like your mother, I see.”

Henry tilted his head. “You knew her?”

Killian waved a hand in front of him. “Only in the way I knew any royalty. From balls when I was a naval officer, diplomatic functions, that sort of thing. Your mother’s sharp wit was legendary.”

“Well, if you were in the navy, do the math. My Uncle Leo is 13, mom was 12 when he was born. Five years later, she had me.”

“At 17 . . . “ Killian’s voice trailed off. He shook his head to clear it. “And your father?”

“His name was Baelfire. That’s all I know. And that he’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Died.” Henry shrugged as if it were just a fact. Clearly he never knew the man.

“And why have they hidden you away?”

“Like you said, Mother isn’t married. She never was.” The boy arched a brow at Killian’s

surprised expression. “What? Adults always assume that kids aren’t listening.”

Killian laughed and dropped a hand to the boy’s shoulder and squeezed affectionately. “I like

you already Henry. I believe a pirate’s life will suit you just fine.”

************************************************

Prince Henry was not at all like Killian would imagine a sheltered royal to be. He was full of awe and excitement about being at sea, not even frightened when the waves got rough. He also wasn’t afraid of hard work or learning things outside of his comfort zone, eagerly throwing himself amongst the crew and asking how he could help. He seemed drawn to Killian especially, asking him to teach him sailor’s knots and how to handle a sword like a pirate. He had obviously received training already on the latter, but his style of fighting was too refined and fair in Killian’s opinion.

“Your enemy will not follow the rules of engagement,” Killian told the boy, “so you must be willing to fight dirty in return.”

“How do you think his mother will feel about that?” Anna asked, arms crossed.

“She’ll thank me if it saves his life,” Killian snapped.

Figuring out where the boy would bunk was a problem. He and Liam were hesitant to let him sleep with the rest of the men in the crew’s quarters, even with Kristoff there, and it certainly wasn’t appropriate for him to stay with Killian and Liam. They finally decided it was best for Henry to bunk with Anna in the first mate’s cabin, cramped though it was. She was like an aunt to the boy, after all. Though if Killian had known how inquisitive the young prince was, he might have been a bit more careful about the belongings in his quarters.

“What is this?” Henry screamed one bright morning as he come above deck.

Killian turned from where he was checking the ship’s heading to find the boy trembling all over, red in the face and waving a piece of parchment. When Henry got close enough, he shoved it at Killian’s chest. The charcoal drawing had the air rushing from Killian’s lungs.

“That’s my mother!” Henry shouted, fisting both hands.

“I - I can explain -”

“Explain how you lied to me? I asked if you knew her!”

Killian sighed as he rubbed his forehead wearily. He was caught in a half truth, and there was no sense digging himself deeper with more lies. He looked down at the drawing, his thumb rubbing over the note sketched there in Emma’s handwriting.

“My dear lieutenant, when you sail away tomorrow, know that you take my heart with you. Love, Your Emma.”

He couldn’t help smiling remembering the sweet innocence of their love. How naïve they had been to think that fate would smile on them! Although, maybe it would have, if Killian had remained an honorable lieutenant and not turned pirate.

“Your mother loved me once,” he told Henry softly. “We were still children, really. She was but sixteen, and I was eighteen. We met at a ball. Your mother was irritated with her boring suitors, and basically threatened me to ask her to dance. To put her out of her misery, she said.’

Killian chuckled at the memory, settling on a crate, his eyes still fixed on the picture. Henry’s fists loosened, and his shoulders lowered. Killian kept talking, hoping the boy could hear the admiration in his voice.

“That one dance turned into many more. It was scandalous really for a mere naval lieutenant to monopolize the princess’s dance card. We shared our first kiss on a balcony hidden away from the rest of the crowd as fireworks burst in the air. It was your mother’s sixteenth birthday, you see.”

Henry deflated more, and sat on the crate next to Killian. “When did she give you the picture?”

“I drew it,” Killian told him. “King George was there for several weeks in negotiations to prevent war with Misthaven. Liam and I were part of his naval escort. Your mother and I spent much of that time together. We were having a picnic on the beach when I drew that. She gave it back to me before I left with that note scrawled on it.”

“But I don’t understand,” Henry muttered, “she had me a year later. You’re not -”

“No, Henry,” Killian told him with a clap to his shoulder, “though I would be honored to be your father. You are a bright lad. But my relationship with your mother was completely innocent.”

“But if she loved you so much, why was she ever with my father?”

Killian rubbed at his jaw, knowing he had to tread lightly. “That is a question for your mother, I’m afraid. I wrote to her after I left, but then the war started, and -”

“You turned pirate,” a trembling voice behind them finished.

Killian turned around, shocked to see Princess Anna standing there, her face pale. Her gaze cut from Killian and up to Liam, who had come down from the upper deck at some point as Killian had told his tale.

“Picnics on the beach, dancing at Emma’s ball with navy men,” Anna said in a trembling voice, “I may have only been twelve, but I remember it all now. You were the brothers who wooed my sister and her best friend. The ones who left them heartbroken.”

Liam’s head hung in shame. “I can’t speak for my brother, but I tried very hard not to fall in love with Elsa. I simply couldn’t help myself. It was so easy to get swept away and pretend that there could be a future for us. I was puffed up with pride, having just been made captain. The youngest to receive that honor at just twenty-two. But I should have known better, my brother and I both. They were crown princesses, destined for the throne.”

“But Grandpa was just a shepherd!” Henry argued.

Killian chuckled. “That’s what your mother said.”

“But he wasn’t a pirate,” Anna bit out, “do you know the nights my sister cried herself to sleep when word came that you had mutinied? Even then she clung to hope that you weren’t a cad, that you had your reasons, but then she never heard from you again!”

“How could I?” Liam shouted back. “If a naval captain had little chance, a pirate captain had none at all!”

“She gave you everything!” Anna shouted, shoving him in the chest.

Killian’s jaw dropped. Every member of the crew had frozen in place, the princess’s words like a thunderclap. Liam’s jaw clenched as he gazed down at Anna in silence.

“Do not speak to the captain of this ship in such a tone,” he seethed, “I told you, we bow to no crown.”

Anna lifted her hand, but before she could slap him, Liam grabbed her by the wrist. Kristoff shouted in anger, and Killian grabbed him by the shoulders before he could lunge at Liam and make things worse.

“I would think long and hard before you try and strike me again,” Liam warned. Then he barked at the crew to get back to work and marched below deck.

Anna crumpled to her knees, and Kristoff was immediately at her side. Killian went to follow his brother, but Anna reached up and grasped his arm to stop him.

“I didn’t mean to lose it like that,” she apologized. “I was so young. I didn’t understand why Elsa fell apart the way she did. It was only reading her journal after she was banished by my parents that I fully understood.” Anna released a slow breath. “She loved him. So much.”

All Killian could do was nod before going below deck. He felt his own anger well up as he shoved the door to his brother’s quarters open.

“And to think the entire time I was with Emma, I used your virtue as a plumb line,” Killian snapped. “Is what Anna said true?”

Liam collapsed onto his bunk, his head dropping to his hands. “God help me, it is. We had one night together before I left, and I like a fool promised her the world.”

Killian was at a loss as to what to say. There was a knock at the door, and Liam surged to his feet.

“Come in.”

The door swung open, and Anna and Henry stood there, faces hesitant.

“We were talking,” Anna said, her fingers twisting, “and we realized something.”

Henry jumped in. “You were never going after the bounty, were you? You were trying to protect them all along.”

The lines creasing Liam’s forehead relaxed. “Aye, lad, we were hoping to find them before anyone else did. We just couldn’t let our crew know that.”

Anna and Henry exchanged glances.

“Okay, then,” Anna said with a nod. “Good to know we’re all on the same page.”

The concerned sister and the worried son turned to go. Liam called out after them.

“We are still getting that reward, right?” he asked with a roguish grin. “I mean if a pirate can’t hope to marry a crown princess, he’s gotta make a living somehow.”

Anna quirked a smile in return. “We’ll wait and see how it all pans out. After all, I’m marrying an ice harvester.”

Henry walked over and gently placed the parchment he had found in Killian’s hand. “You dropped this.”

Killian looked down into the smiling face of Emma at sixteen, eyes bright and without a care in the world. Had she changed as much as he had? Had her innocence taken as severe a beating? He feared it was so, especially considering the strange circumstances of Henry’s birth.

“Thank you, lad. I’ll take better care of it from now on.”

“Good,” Henry told him simply, and he looked and sounded so much like his mother in that moment, that Killian’s heart ached.

************************************************

A thick mist surrounded the Jolly as they approached Avra, and the eerie quiet had the entire crew on edge.

They kept their heading, hoping there were no rocks or reefs. Killian looked through his spy glass, but the mist had turned to a thick fog.

“We may need to lay anchor until this fog lifts,” he told his brother as he pocketed the tool.

“I don’t think it’s the weather,” Liam told him quietly, “there’s something unnatural going on here.”

The words were barely out of Liam’s mouth when a haunting melody split the air. The brothers exchanged alarmed glances.

“Mermaids,” they both muttered.

“Bloody hell,” Killian bit out.

Liam began shouting orders to the crew to arm themselves and get to the railing. The melody ceased abruptly, and every person on board held their breath in the sudden silence.

It didn’t last long. Suddenly the ship was being hit from all sides, causing the Jolly to pitch from one side to the other. The mermaids let out piercing cries that split the air and frayed the nerves. The men shot their pistols, threw harpoons, or attempted to capture mermaids in weighted nets, but the aquatic army eluded all of them.

Anna rushed to the railing, squinting her eyes to try and see into the gloom. Kristoff shouted for her to get back as he pulled up yet another empty net. Anna ignored him and leaned forward, shouting her sister’s name. Henry joined her, shouting, “Mom! Mom, are you out there?”

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Killian shouted at them, tossing aside his pistol and reaching for the boy. The ship rocked, and Killian grasped at empty air as Henry was flung overboard.

“Henry!” he screamed, hurriedly shedding his leather duster.

Before Killian could jump in after him, a head of bright red hair broke the surface of the water, and in the mermaid’s arms was Henry. Just as quickly as it had begun, the mermaids’ assault ended. The mist cleared, the sun shone, and an army of glittering tails swam away from the pirate ship.

The red-headed mermaid took the rope that had been tossed to her and tied it around Henry’s waist. Killian hoisted him up, and thankfully the boy only had to cough a few times in order to fully recover. Thanks to his rescuer, he had only been under for a moment or two. Killian grasped him by both shoulders, his heart still pounding.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Henry gasped, “thanks to her.”

The boy pointed, and Killian turned to see the mermaid with red hair standing on the deck of the Jolly Roger. At least he had thought she was a mermaid -

“Queen Ariel!” Anna cried, rushing to embrace her.

Realizing who she was, the crew of the Jolly sank immediately to one knee, head bowed and caps off except for he and Liam. So much for bowing to no crown. He knew his crew were still shaken by the mermaid attack, but did they have no self-respect? Liam seemed to agree, walking amongst his crew and smacking them on the head to get the bloody hell off their knees.

“My men,” Liam explained, striding with confidence to the mermaid queen, “will not bow to a creature who sends many a sailor to a watery grave.”

When the mermaid spoke, it was with a surprisingly sweet and innocent voice. “I don’t send anyone to a watery grave.” She used air quotes around the later. “Pirates are so melodramatic. The attack on your ship was merely for defense. When I realized who was on board, I immediately called it off.”

Anna gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Defense? Are you defending my sister and Emma? Do you know where they are?” She bounced up and down on her heels, shaking Ariel by the arm a little.

Whether it was because she was another royal or because it was Ariel’s personality, the queen merely smiled at the other woman. “Yes.”

Anna threw her arms around the mermaid, but Liam and Killian exchanged wary looks. Kristoff evidently shared their concerns.

“Um, I don’t mean to put a damper on things,” Anna’s fiancé spoke up, “but didn’t your husband King Eric put a bounty out on the two princesses just like every other kingdom?”

Ariel frowned. “My husband felt he had no choice. King George and King Arthur are always eager for war. Siding against them was dangerous, but my husband sent me out to try and get to Emma and Elsa before anyone could collect the bounty. As many people know, Queen Snow is a good friend of mine.”

“And the attack on our ship?” Killian demanded. “You almost killed Prince Henry!”

“You’re flying a pirate flag!” Ariel snapped. “I thought you were here to capture the pincesses for the bounty on their heads.”

“I think we can all agree we’re on the same team,” Anna spoke up diplomatically.

“Yeah,” Henry cried out, scrambling to his feet, “can you take me to my mom now?”

Ariel gently cupped Henry’s face. “Just land on Avra and follow the middlemist roses. It will take you straight to Merlin’s abode. As for me, I must search the seas for other bounty hunters.”

She kissed Henry gently on the forehead, and before anyone could even thank her, she dived back into the waves.

************************************************

Anna, Henry, and Killian picked their way through a barely noticeable path. When Ariel had said “follow the middlemist roses,” she had failed to mention how they would be almost hidden amongst braken and thorns. It was clear that only those who knew where to look could find the path to this sorcerer's domicile.

Liam and Kristoff had stayed behind on the Jolly Roger. For one, they didn’t want to overwhelm the princesses or give them cause for suspicion. For another, they didn’t completely trust the crew not to turn tail and run. No honor among thieves and all of that.

Killian could have stayed behind just as easily, of course, but he knew why his brother had given him the order to take the royals ashore. His brother could face a naval fleet, a rival pirate crew, or even a kraken. But the woman he had jilted? Liam Jones was terrified, and Killian couldn’t say that he blamed him.

On the other hand, Emma had been the one to cut ties with Killian. Going so far as to have a child with someone else. Killian whacked at a vine with more force than necessary. The thought hurt. Yet the alternative, that Emma had come to be with child against her will, made him physically ill and blind with rage.

“There it is,” Anna whispered, falling to her knees and grasping both Killian and Henry by the elbow. Killian cursed at his distracted mind. To be out-tracked by a naïve princess! He looked where she pointed and saw a simple yet homey cabin built into a cave. Its earthen walls were covered in moss and more middlemist roses.

“What are we waiting for?” Henry asked impatiently. “I want to see my mom.”

Killian laid a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “But remember, my boy, the last time she saw you she accidentally hurt you with her magic. You don’t want to startle her.”

“He’s right, Henry,” Anna agreed, “Elsa hurt me too. I don’t blame her, and I’m not afraid of her, but I think . . . I think she’s afraid of herself, and that fear may rise up again when she sees me.”

“I understand,” Henry mumbled sadly.

“Who’s there?” a voice called out to their right just as the branches of a tree above their heads burst into flames. “That was a warning.”

“Mom!” Henry shouted, and nothing Anna and Killian did or said could keep him from jumping up from the bushes and running towards his mother’s voice.

“Henry?” Emma’s voice at first was full of love, tenderness, and a touch of pleasant surprise.

Killian eased forward so he could see more clearly between the branches. He felt the blood rush from his head when he saw her, golden hair tumbling loose down her back and clad in a filmy white dress. It made her look ethereal, but for the haunted look in her eyes.

As Henry ran towards her, the expression on her face changed to one of panic. “Stay back!” she warned him.

The boy slowed down, but he didn’t stop moving towards her. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be,” she told him brokenly, tears beginning to roll down her face. “I love you so much, Henry, that’s why I had to go. To keep you safe.”

Henry took a few more steps forward, and the panic on her face increased. “Elsa!” she screamed.

“You’re afraid of hurting me, that’s the problem,” Henry continued, “just let the fear go.”

“It’s not that simple,” she told him, then once again yelled, “Elsa! Come quick! Henry, please stop and wait for Elsa.”

“Emma!” another voice shouted, and next to Killian, Anna gasped. He put a hand on the red-head's arm, and gave a slight shake of his head. Another blonde stepped out of the door of the cabin. “Emma, what’s going on -”

Emma didn’t look at her friend, but simply extended her arm. “Take my hand before I hurt him,” she practically begged.

Killian peered at Emma closely through the brush and noticed something for the first time. Emma’s hands were glowing and tiny flames danced along her fingertips. Elsa reached out towards her friend, her own hand blue and frosted over. When fire met ice, both women’s hands became mere flesh once again, and they both let out sighs of relief.

“Henry,” Emma said to her son, with a genuine smile on her face, her free arm outstretched.

Henry beamed and rushed forward, colliding with his mother and wrapping his arms around her waist. Emma embraced him with one arm, bending to kiss the top of his head, but her other hand remained firmly clasped in Elsa’s.

Anna practically trembled beside him before bursting from her hiding place and racing towards her sister. Elsa gasped her name, and when Anna reached her, she let go of Emma’s hand so the two sisters could hold each other in a tight embrace. Killian worried that their magic would flare again, but Emma seemed completely relaxed as she wrapped her other arm tighter around her son. Then she stepped back, tears marring her cheeks, cupping Henry’s face in her hands.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Mom.”

“What just happened?” Anna asked. “When you held hands -”

“It’s something the sorcerer Merlin taught us,” Elsa explained. “When our powers mingle, they cancel one another out.”

“But It’s only temporary,” Emma added, “our quest is far from over.”

“Although I don’t know how we’ll reach our next destination. It’s in a distant land, far from the Lonely Islands,” Elsa said.

“We can help! We can finish your quest with you!” Henry shouted excitedly.

Killian closed his eyes. Please don’t say it, please don’t . . .

“Liam and Killian have a ship!”

Killian winced. So much for easing Emma and Elsa into things. He rose from his hiding place, and for some reason he couldn’t even explain, he slipped into his pirate persona. He swaggered towards the princesses, cocky smirk in place. He even winked as Emma’s jaw dropped and her face went pale.

“Killian?” she gasped.

He tilted his head teasingly and quirked a brow. “Did you miss me?”

#cs ff #enchanted forest au #brothers jones #frozen jewel #fandom birthday playlist #for katie-dub #not on but for her birthday :)

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cupcakesim4ever · 6 years ago

Photo

Sims 4 Lookbook 1

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redwineandflowers · 26 days ago

Text

Please welcome to the track.. Marlene Baretto!

She's loud, she's fun, but most importantly, she's gorgeous.

She's the new Formula One journalist for SkySports, and it's not hard to notice her.

Once the drivers see her, they're all tripping over each other to meet her. Except one driver, who seems perfectly fine with admiring her from afar.

Will it evolve, or will someone else whisk her off her feet first?

It's lights out and away we go, as Marlene Baretto immediately gets a podium spot in these drivers hearts.

Welcome to Fireproofs and Mini Dresses

(dividers by @bernardsbendystraws)

#oc intro #oc info #F1 #f1 x reader #f1 x male reader #series #Series intro #F1 series #Fireproofs and mini dresses

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jflashandclash · 6 years ago

Text

Traitors of Olympus IV: The Fall of the Sun

Twenty: Sadie

Distracting Gods 101

The god, Set, took a step toward us.

I had several choice words that I wanted to share with Carter’s and my old frienemy. Unfortunately, all I could do was go “MMMM!” and feel far more sympathetic to mummies than anyone ever should feel, Egyptian or otherwise. I squirmed in my wrapping but I knew it was useless.

“Oh, I do suppose you’d like your mouth back, wouldn’t you?” Set asked in that uncomfortable double voice. Set—or really, the boy that Set was possessing—smiled wickedly as his dark eyes shared a knowing look with Leo. “She’s such an amusing chatter.”

I appreciated that Leo attacked Set instead of agreeing with him. I didn’t appreciate that the demigod must have forgotten everything I told him on the flight over: Leo held a hand up and blasted a stream of fire at the god of disorder and storms that could control fire.

As the flames enveloped the leather vest and burgundy dress shirt, Set laughed. “Oh, that tickles!”

In retaliation, Set did something I wasn’t expecting. He bit his Egyptian battleaxe. A trickle of blood dripped down the boy’s chin as he spit the concoction of body fluids at the stream of flames. Gross and, I thought, ineffective.

“K’aak’t; Elel chi’bal!” the first, high-pitched voice of the boy hissed.[1]

My ears popped, like I was in Ra’s sun boat when it decided to take a nosedive off a waterfall.

The flames touching Set rippled from orange to a vibrant, whirling turquoise. The effect started to spread—well—like a wild fire, infecting Leo’s flame until the attack reversed course and overtook Leo’s hand.

Leo shrieked, his eyes widening with panic and disbelief. He dropped the sledgehammer in his other hand and slapped at his arm. “Ay! Oh—ow! Ow! Oh! Fire hot!”

That wasn’t a standard Set move. And trust me, I knew Set, down to his secret name.

I rolled my eyes. If I wasn’t in these blasted wrappings, I would have pat Leo’s back and said, “Ah, yes, fire is hot.”

But then, I remembered why Leo had come: he was fireproof. Leo’s next comment drove the point home. “This is what burning feels like!?!” he yelped.

“Nicely done, little Lapis,” Set bellowed with laughter.

Lapis must have been the name of Set’s host body. Anytime Isis took over my head, we communicated through our weird mental bond, like polite members of society. Leave it to Set to be bombastic about it.

From my memory of our homicidal enemy, he wasn’t the type to let a host talk, let alone compliment them sincerely. Uncle Amos was the most powerful magician in the world and he still struggled to control Set when they shared power.

“Dude, not cool on the weird fire,” Leo said, glaring fiercely and nursing the scorch marks on his hand. “How did you burn me? The only flames that can burn Admiral Leo are the flames of love.”

I wanted to ask Set the same question—about the flames, not about his love life—but all I could do was go “MMMM!” still and do my best attempts at the worm dance move.

Despite discovering a new weakness, I had to give Leo some credit: his eyes were scanning our surroundings like he was examining the blueprints of a car, looking for something to help us.

From what I understood of Leo’s powers, he needed to be near machinery to be properly useful. He had the tools in his belt, but there weren’t a lot of machines around. Meanwhile, as Leo had summed up from my lecture on the flight over, the desert was like a Cookie Mart of Evil for jerks like Set. If it came down to a Leo versus Set fight, Set was in his element.

“Oh.” Set waved a hand. “As I learned from some of the other gods that played with Sadie’s friends, you can become much more versatile when you intermix and play nice with others. I may not fully understand the methods for illusion and alteration, but Lapis is quite the Mayan sorceress.”

His face contorted into a scowl and his posture altered to shift his weight onto one foot. “Sorcerer, you over-inflated ball of hot air!” the boy snarled to himself.

This god-to-host-chat was weird and complicated to follow.

Leo glanced down at me for answers. As my most valuable skill had been taken away from me—my ability to be a brilliant orator—I furiously nodded towards Set, wishing Leo and I had some telepathic link to chat.

From Leo’s immediate understanding, he must have fought plenty of big-and-tough guys before. Or actually had telepathy.

“Sadie said you’re supposed to be in the Duat!” Leo protested. He understood: when in doubt, keep the arrogant megalomaniacs talking.

Lapis’ weight shifted back to two feet to indicate Set had regained control. His vocalpitch dropped. “A god of chaos ignoring the rules? Tsk, Sadie Kane.” Those darks eyes peered down at me with amusement. “I thought we were closer than that. You know there is so much fun to be had in the mortal world.”

Something seemed off. The thick rings of charcoal around the boy’s eyes and the wild wideness of them, as though startled, reminded me of someone, and not Set.

I’ve made a lot of people miffed in my life—I’m quite skilled at it actually—and I found myself wondering where I knew this young magician from. Set had said, “Long time no see.” Maybe that wasn’t just Set talking.

“What are you doing here?” Leo asked. “A god of deserts and storms in a desert without a storm, beating up tiny demigods. Sounds suspicious.”

Set belted out a boisterous laugh. “I would never miss one of Eris’s parties! Oh, does that Greek know how to party!” He twirled the Egyptian battle axe in one hand like a staff and pointed it at the unfortunate pile of rocks nearby. “I heard we’re going to execrate a goddess of day and I’ll get to feed off her dying powers. I do love a good picnic on a nice day.”

“You hid Hemera in Camel Dung Mountain?” Leo asked.

Either Leo was going to keep surprising me with how much we thought alike, or he really was telepathic. Considering how often I thought about Walt playing basketball shirtless, I was uncomfortable with the latter possibility.

Set folded his arms and pouted. “It does not look like that.”

“It really does,” Leo countered.

“It’s a beautiful desert feature.”

“Of camel dung.”

Set glanced down at me again. “Really, Sadie, your friends are so rude. Let’s give you one chance to speak up for them, and if you go to cast a spell, I’ll spill sand into your lungs so fast, you won’t be able to say the word, ‘asphyxiate.’”

To my surprise, he snapped his fingers. The wrappings shrank away from my mouth. It took every milliliter of my willpower to avoid saying something about camel dung. Instead, I said, “Lapis! Set is using you. He always uses people and will take full control of their bodies at the first chance. Fight him!”

A devilish half-smile slid onto Set’s countenance. In a two-toned voice, they said, “What makes you think I can’t be a team player?”

“Um, because you’re Set, god of evil and rockin’ red reaping and white pawn-eating. Remember the whole ‘I don’t do second-in-command’ thing you said to Menshikov?” I said, though my voice seemed to be losing conviction. Funny when that happens.

Set waved his hand.

The boy shifted his weight back onto one foot, signaling Lapis was in control. He glared with those terrifying, startled eyes. “Arrogant, rule-poppin’ Kanes think only your stupid family and initiates can come to equilibrium with a god. I mean, Holy Hun-Batz, how many times did that lie-mongering snake, Isis, tempt you to backstab the Sun God and put your brother and Horus on the throne? You don’t think she’d try to take over if she thought she could?”

I was rather offended. My initiates may have followed Ma’at and order, but we were quite a mischievous bunch and I wanted to defend our willingness to break rules, not “pop” them like Tic Tacs. Well, except Carter. [Sorry, my dear brother, you’re quite hopeless in the rule-breaking department.]

On account of Isis, I couldn’t do much to defend her. She, ehem, wasn’t always the most loyal to Ra, having once poisoned him and all that.

“See?” this time, Set spoke. “I’m rather fond of this little Pax child. Lapis occasionally lets me filet people. A much more enjoyable host than your Uncle Amos.”

Lapis’ voice resurfaced, fluidly slipping away from Set. I was quite appalled. No one could get along with the god of evil so well and not be evil themselves. “And I had real reason to be here, before that double-crossing Ajaxamamma neglected to protect Tuft Ears or Ajaxapax against Ares.” Lapis kicked at the ground in anger. A mini swirl of red sand whirled up from his foot and spiraled away in a tiny dust storm. If any ants were about, they would surely need to sound the alarm for a tornado warning.

“This is getting confusing. Can you please stop with the voice alteration and the nicknames?” Leo asked.

Lapis scowled down as though he hadn’t heard him. “I just want the Paxes to stick together and maybe kill that tree-romping hippie, Euna. Now, Tuft Ears and Ajaxapax are fucked up and my littlest brother, Dart Face, is well on his way to becoming a sociopathic baby killer.”

“Yea, you’re setting a great example for him,” Leo said. He took a small step towards my cocoon. I wondered if he had some kind of mythical blowtorch that could cut me out of here without making a roasted Sadie dog.

Lapis half-heartedly pointed his crossbow at my cocoon and said, “I wanted to meet the stupid person whose cursed, dead-boy boyfriend killed my mom, but Ms. Kane Swaddles is a bit underwhelming in person.”

To be clear, I am quite impressive, but presentation is a bit difficult when you’re rolled up like a burrito.

But, dead-boy boyfriend? That was clearly in reference to Walt and Anubis, unless there were a lot of other dead-boy boyfriends running around. [Jack wanted me to clarify that I was not talking about a bloke named Nico Di Angelo. Apparently the Greeks do have their own supply.]

“Your mum?” I asked, baffled.

Lapis’ startled eyes fell onto me. Looking more exhausted than angry, he said, “Sarah Jacobi.”

For an instant, I didn’t understand. Lapis’ skin was chocolaty, so much that I would think him a pale African or a tanned islander. To my disgust, I realized my moment of hesitation was the same one people experienced when they saw me with my Dad and brother, because I was so pale and my brother and father were so dark. All those times people thought I couldn’t be related to them. And here I was. I had no idea what her father looked like, but, just because Sarah Jacobi’s skin was milky pale didn’t mean that wasn’t this boy’s mother.

Shame choked me.

During the battle in the First Nome, Walt had mummified Jacobi while she was alive and dragged her into the Underworld. But Jacobi had a child? Someone had loved that schizophrenic Wicked Witch of the West enough to have a baby with her?

Jacobi would have killed me if Walt hadn’t stopped her, but knowing we’d left someone motherless, like I had been motherless, didn’t settle well in my stomach.

Lapis’ startling eyes were just like hers and I could almost hear Jacobi’s laugh, like metal scrapping through sand. Try to imagine that as a lullaby. No wonder Lapis was a bit mental.

“Yep,” Leo said, “That’s another name that means nothing to me.” He sidestepped close enough that he could have nudged me with his foot.

“Sorry,” I said, suddenly unsure of what to say.

Lapis didn’t look mad at me. Just frustrated with the situation. Although I didn’t know much about it, from what he was saying and what I had gathered from Leo and Jason, he and his siblings lost a lot in the last few months. Weirdly, I found myself feeling sorry for this crazy bloke.

“You know, rule-poppers—“

“I am NOT a rule-popper!” I snapped, unable to take that slander any longer.

“—I don’t even care about this Hemera or any of Eris’ stupid ‘not’ plans anymore,” Lapis muttered, almost to himself. His gaze peered through me, and I had a feeling he wasn’t peeking into the Duat.

“Then maybe you could not try to kill us, Desert Dude?” Leo suggested. He was right beside me now, two fingers in his toolbelt, hopefully looking for a magical jigsaw to get me out of these stupid restraints.

Lapis’ expression went blank. He studied us.

Gods of Egypt, could something that simple have actually worked?

Then Set took back over. “I have a splendid alternative. See, Lapis did promise I’d get a chance at eating the power of a primordial goddess.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s have a fun little gamble. If you can survive me for five minutes and get Hemera, then—ta da!—you win. We’ll even get you a ride to the closest active portal.”

“Do we need that?” Leo asked, glanced down at me.

“Em… I may have forgotten to mention that portals have a twelve hour cool down period,” I admitted, a minor overlook. Though there must have been another portal somewhere nearby. Everyone was so obsessed with Egyptian artifacts, I never worried about there being an obelisk or pyramid in proximity, even if it was just an oddly shaped ice cream truck.

“And if we lose?” I asked.

“Why, I get to rip you limb-from-limb of course,” Set said with a good-natured laugh. “Lapis can execrate Hemera and I’ll get to feed off her power as the goddess fades to nothing.”

“So, you’ll try to dismember us either way?” Leo asked.

“Exactly!” Set exclaimed.

Leo knelt down beside me. The wind kicked up sand around us, like a storm was approaching. I had an uncomfortable feeling that Leo and I would not be able to stall much longer.

“You know why you Egyptian gods are just like Greek ones?” Leo asked, the Latino elf’s face crunching into a grin.

Set smirked, putting his hands on his hips. He licked his lips, like he was considering switching Leo’s and my head like the tops of canopic jars. “We both have gambling problems?”

Leo’s grin turned smug.

“You both like to talk too much.”

By now, the wind was whipping Leo’s hair all about his eyes and kicking sand into my nostrils. I assumed Set was getting ready to obliterate us, but Leo must have known what was about to happen instead.

A tornado blasted horizontally through the broken section of the iron fence. Had I been a mortal, I might have thought it hit Set. Instead, through the swirls of dust and sand, I could see Jason Grace propelled at the end. His fist slugged Set’s face.

Set flew backwards, knocking another hole through the iron fence on the other side. A whirl of red sand followed him. The crossbow clattered away. He skidded to a stop with one knee in the sand, the other leg posed to rise. From the expression, I guessed Lapis was the one glaring at Jason’s hovering form.

Lapis wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He smirked. “You’re mine, Pretty Boy.”

The red sand around him thickened, until there was a swirling vortex of desert, debris, red sparks, and smatters of flame encasing the magician: Set’s combat avatar. Although I could barely make out the image of Lapis’s hands, he twirled the Egyptian battle axe around him.

“Go get Hemera,” Jason ordered, scowling.

The son of Jupiter didn’t have to tell us twice.

Leo scrambled to heft me up into his arms as Set’s spitting red storm thundered into Jason’s white tornado.

Thanks for reading! I hope you guys enjoyed! :D

Footnote:

[1] “Roast the fire; burn with pain.”

#PJO #HOO #fanfiction #Traitors of Olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #Sadie #Leo #Jason #Set #Lapis #I would pay good money to see Set smack down Jason XD

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gta-liberty-city-stories-oo · 3 years ago

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GTA 3 – The Definitive Edition cheats for PC | PC Gamer

💾 ►►► DOWNLOAD FILE 🔥🔥🔥 Strategy Guide. It is recommended that you do not save the game while codes have been enabled. It may affect your game statistics, and may cause glitches. Additionally, some codes cannot be disabled. If you entered the code correctly, a message will appear. The brass knuckles, knife, Molotov cocktails, 9mm handgun, shotgun, Tec-9, AK, flamethrower, and sniper rifle will be unlocked. To get infinite ammunition for this or the other weapons tiers, repeatedly enable the code until no ammunition number appears beneath the gun pictures. Note: Enabling this code will cause your street creds to substantially drop in points. You can check your creds in the stats menu at the pause screen. The katana sword, grenades, revolver, sawn-off shotgun, Uzi, M16, rocket launcher, and laser scoped sniper rifle will be unlocked. The chainsaw, grenades, revolver, SMG, combat shotgun, mini-gun, and sniper rifle will be unlocked. If this code is enabled when your car is smoking or damaged it will get repaired. If this code is enabled, you can never have a wanted level. Keep breaking the law until the media attention level is displayed. Press Down after this code is enabled to make your car jump. The nearest person will enter your car or get on your bike. Repeat the code to cycle the tire sizes between large, small, and normal. Note: After this code is enabled four times, it locks your movement unless done under one of the following conditions. If your movement becomes locked, either reload your saved game file or enable the "Commit suicide" code to return to normal at the hospital with your new costume. When inside a car or on a bike, enter the car or get on the bike, enable the code, then press Triangle to exit the car or bike. Your controls will not be locked. You can also reenter the same car and repeat it as many times as desired. A tank will now appear in Fort Staunton, and speedboats can be taken in Portaland. All Multiplayer costumes will also be available in Single Player mode. Additionally, successfully complete all Rampages for the M60 to spawn at your safehouses. Note: You do not get the M60 with any of the weapon cheats. Steal an ambulance and press Up to start the Ambulance missions. Reach level 12 to get infinite sprinting. Steal a fire truck and press Up to start the Firefighter missions. Reach level 12 to be fireproof. Start the delivery missions and reach level 9 to increase your maximum health by 25 points. Steal a taxi and press Up to start the Taxi Driver missions. Drop off passengers to unlock the Bickle '76 cab. Steal a police car and press Up to start the Vigilante missions. Reach level 12 to get a maximum of points of body armor. To easily complete the Vigilante missions, enable the "Spawn Rhino" code, then get in the tank and press Up to start the Vigilante missions. Crash into the cars and bikes you are chasing and they will explode. Make sure to only punch him once; if you continue and kill the person, the cop will want to fight you. There are a total of hidden packages in the game, 40 in Portland, 30 in Staunton Island, and 30 in Shoreside Vale. Go to the same park where the mission took place dressed in the Avenging Angels fatigues at night. Look for another Avenging Angel they are dressed the same. Press Up near him to start the vigilante-style killing spree. In these missions you will fight various groups of hoodlums around Staunton Island. The best strategy is to run them down in a car, or use a bladed melee weapon to cut them down. Using Molotov cocktails, grenades, and other weapons capable of taking out multiple opponents at once. If your Avenging Angel friend dies, you must find another one within the time limit or the mission ends. Stand outside the Ammu-Nation store and target the man behind the counter. Kill him, then take his shotgun and drive away a few blocks. Return to the store, and he will have respawned with another shotgun, which you can once again take from him. To reach Staunton Island early, go to the Calahan bridge and enable the "Drive on water" code. Drive off the bridge and into the water, then go to the docks. Drive your car onto the docks. Make sure it is not a nice car, as you cannot take it with you. You are now on Stanton Island. This also works for Liberty City. Get a motorcycle and park it against the garage door. Jump off, and after the garage door opens, quickly press Triangle to get back on and press X to drive it in before the door closes again. With a car, keep pushing it towards the garage door until it opens, then keep pushing it until it is inside. Park a vehicle already in your garage halfway out to keep the door up. Then, drive in as many other vehicles as you can fit. Make sure you can reach the doors on them or you may not be able to get them out. When targeting an enemy during a fist fight or using brass knuckles , run towards them and tap Circle repeatedly. Even though you will just be running into them and may remain stationary, you will keep executing the "running" punch attack. If you keep tapping Circle, Toni will keep doing this attack rapidly and your enemy will not have a chance to strike back. Get a five star wanted level and FBI cars will appear. As soon as you see one, enable the "Wanted level disabled" code and quickly get in an FBI before it leaves. When you are driving the FBI car, turn on the siren and all of the other cars will move out of the way. It also has good speed and handling. If your are looking for a Hellanbach GT for LoveMedia crazy car give-away, there are two ways to get one. The first is to complete level 4 in the car salesman missions. It will appear in the showroom. The second place it can be found is at Shoreside Vale. Go to the first house on the bottom row of houses in the Cedar Grove area. Look in the driveway to the garage. If one is not there, drive left or right, then turn back. There should be one sitting in front of the garage. You can also get the Hellenbach GT during the mission where you must kill the Sindacco gang member. JP will call and tell you to take his car as a down payment on the money that he owes you. That car is a Hellenbach GT. Save the car in your garage until you need it for the Love Fist car giveaway. When you do the third or fourth mission for Ma Cipriani called "Grease Sucho", you must win a race. Once you win, you must kill Sucho. He will be in a car with flames down the side, called a Thunder-Rod. You must ram the car to get him out so that you can kill him. However, do not let the car explode. If you do, it will be very hard to complete the game later. In the "Love Media" mission, you must deliver sixteen different cars. After you ram Sucho's car just enough that he gets out, kill him then take the car and put it in your garage. After completing Leon McAffrey's "Crazy 69" mission, you will keep the samauri sword used during the mission. This is a very good weapon for your melee slot, as it will usually kill enemies with one hit. Use it for the "Avenging Angels" missions when fighting gangs to conserve ammunition for later levels. You can cut down many swarming opponents at once if you keep moving around and tapping Circle. There is an M60 at the airport parking lot. There should be a small opening to your left. When you go through it, there is a ramp going on top of the fire station. To your left when you are up there is a ledge going around the airport. There is a secret package and magnum. Keep going around the airport until reaching a dead end. There is a small gap between the edge and an airplane hanger. Drive of the edge onto the airplane hanger to find an M60 with ammunition. Use a sniper rifle to look at the moon. Shoot the moon with the sniper rifle to make it increase in size. Repeat this to make it grow larger until it returns to its original size. In the beginning of the game, you can buy anything desired. During one of the first missions you must go to Ammu-Nation. Choose the pistol and you will not be charged. You can also go to the Pay 'N Spray for free the first few times. While holding R, press Down. Holding L also allows for more controlled aiming slows the movement of the sights. This works for the pistol, shotgun, assault rifle, and minigun. Use this way of aiming to take out gang members in their cars, pop tires, or shoot down helicopters. Get a car recommended or bike, then drive fast enough so that you can jump out of it and kill someone at the same time. Drive directly toward the target and jump out. This will not work if you jump out too late. You can also hit police cars by doing this and not get into trouble. You can hit gang members and they will not chase you. However, if you do this to someone the police are chasing, the officer in pursuit will aimlessly run. When an assassin tries to attack, kill him, as he will not be hard to kill. He should be carrying money, body armor, and a nice gun. Use a vehicle to ram a motorcycle with two people sitting on it. Make sure you hit them hard enough so that they both fly off the bike. Then, get on the bike and shoot the driver, but not the back passenger. If done correctly, the remaining passenger will hop back on the bike and sit behind you as you drive around. Note: You will not be able to bail from the bike while moving, as the back passenger will block you from being able to jump off. To get rid of the passenger, just get off the bike and shoot him or her. To change the weather to snow, find the auto shop in Portland. Begin the car dealership missions where you must sell cars to people by doing what they want. If you get to level 9, it will start snowing to make it more difficult to drive in. Once you get to the point where you can do missions for Ma Cipriani "C" on the map , do not continue doing them until they are your only option. They will continue to appear until they are all killed, making future missions more difficult to complete. In this mission, you must take control of Paulie Siddaco's car and kill the gang members. Enable the "Pedestrians follow you" code. After taking control of his car, he will exit. Drive to the area where you kill the gang and they will not attack you, making it easier for you to kill them. After you complete the mission, Paulie Siddaco will be in your van. To get big air off any car, enable the "Change motorcycle tire size" code, then use any bike to fly over cars. Additionally, go at maximum speed on a PCJ on the wrong side of the road. When you see a Banshee, drive directly into it. This works even better with a Sanchez. Find a vehicle with a driver in it. Press Triangle to get in the car and immediately enable the "Destroy all cars" code. If done correctly, you should be in the vehicle, but it will be on fire. Enable the "Full health" code to put out the fire. You can now do things like in a normal vehicle. If you take it to a Pay N Spray, the vehicle will be fixed but still look burned. While driving on the bridge that connects Staunton Island and Shoreside Vale, you can get someone's car stuck in the bridge. To do this, wait until the bridge is up, then bump a car about half-way on the bridge with it halfway hanging over the edge. When the middle section of the bridge comes back down, that car should get stuck and have half of it sticking out of the bridge. Take a normal shotgun and walk directly up to a Rhino. Use manual aim and fire directly into the Rhino. It will spurt blood as if it were a person. This can also be done with other cars and objects, but is best when the Rhino is the target, because it will not explode. This works well at the airport so you do not get a wanted level. Note: The blood only spurts when you fire from certain angles; down and to the right slightly works the best, and you must be directly up against the tank and use manual aim to do it. In the Rockford area, directly beside the hospital is a construction site. Get a PCJ and ride it to the red bar at the construction site's entrance and break it. Then, back up and go fast as possible. Go up the dirt pile ramp inside the construction site. When you are on the first roof, jump over to the second roof while still on your bike. Then, go to the wall to your right and ride slowly into it. Note: You may need to do this more than once. If done correctly, you should fall into the wall. When you are done falling, you will be in the unfinished tunnels below. The only way to get exit is to die. Look for the place where you have to chase the "priest" into the Church missions. It is a garage-type place. Find the white stairs and climb up them. Jump over to the roof to your right, then run straight ahead. Jump off to the right of the wall. Follow this wall until you find the ramp. Once you reach the ramp, do not go up it. Keep following the wall and run to the back. Turn to the left to find the hidden location. In Grand Theft Auto 3 , the sign read "You are not suppose to be here". Instead, the sign has a smiley face with the message ""You just can't get enough of this alley, can you? During this mission for JD, when the helicopter makes its second stop on the top of the building in the Red Light District, get a bike. Drive it up the stars. Make sure not to kill anyone or the mission will end. Then, press Triangle while standing next to the helicopter to board it and fly around. You should see Chinese food on the table inside the safehouse. After completing Leon McAffrey's "Crazy 69" mission where you run around in the park and kill gang members with a samauri sword, you will receive the "Dragon jumpsuit" clothing option at your safehouse. This article of clothing is exactly the same as the one Bruce Lee wore in his film Game Of Death. During the introduction sequence for the Biker Heat mission, the poster above Maria's bed depicts members of the imaginary rock band Love Fist, which was the band Tommy Vercetti befriended and completed missions for in Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. Set your system language to Italian, then start the game. The game menus, messages, mission briefs, and even some car names Police, Ambulance, etc. Airport, etc. However, it is not spoken, but the subtitles will be in Italian. Note: This does not work with any other language. Strategy Guide Corey Feldman Interview Review Cheat code warning It is recommended that you do not save the game while codes have been enabled. Forty three pedestrians, two locations, seven gangs unlocked in Multiplayer mode While playing the game, press Up 3 , X 2 , Square, R, L. No Cyberpunk? No Problem! Can Gamers Really Trust Facebook? Let's Face It Super Mario is Perfect! More Special Features Do you like video games more now or sometime in the past? I enjoyed video games much more in the past. Games are the best they've ever been! View Poll History. Follow cheatcc. Top Stories. All rights reserved. Privacy Policy.

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