#I was going to write something on the town with the lighthouse because I grew up in plymouth

[selfdiagnosedeyemotif]

Chapter Four (Tyrri):

Port-des-Lumières is a really cool place that I really like and I just want to talk about it because I like it

Most of the Deltalands is fairly wet and marshy but as soon as you approach the sea cliffs and shit start popping up

Sitting atop these cliffs in Port-des-Lumières is not one but two lighthouses, one much larger and newer than the other

The old one is in fact the library that Willie and Dante spoke of; after the new one was built, no one wanted to tear the old one down, so they just renovated it and converted it into a library, called The Beacon

The bit where the light goes was fairly overlarge, so they plopped some tables in that bad boy and it became the designated Best Study Area Ever

Also in the top bit is a multicoloured orb of light in a spherical cage. That one got put there as a prank by some teenaged mages and no one is quite sure how to take it out. So you’ve got the wide open sea on one side of you and The Orb on the other

Tyrri ascends this delightful little place and begins her final assessment of her information

To trigger this, you enter a Synergize section, with a fairly low damage threshold

First synapse (magic in the water): the magic in the water has origin signatures that line up extremely closely to populations of animals in the area in comparison to their magical strength (more magical creatures and more common creatures show up the most in Tasslemore’s analysis)

Conclusion: the magic comes from those animals

Hypothesis: the magic is given freely by those animals for whatever reason, confirm with further research

Second synapse (properties of the crystals): the structure of the crystals lends itself well to capturing magic via contact and then releasing it into another magic-conductive material, but cannot hold magic for very long on its own

Conclusion: the crystals could be used to capture oncoming magic and store it for later use

Hypothesis: the crystals could be used to absorb magic from other magic-conductive materials before transferring it to other MCMs

Third synapse (origin of the crystals): the crystals have the same magical makeup as the water, only distilled and in a fully solid form (stated in Tasslemore’s research, potentially previously hypothesized by Tyrri)

Conclusion: the crystals grew from the water, similarly to those silly little experiments you do as a kid only far more magically potent

During the Synergize section, the facts will be laid out and the player will be prompted to select one of three conclusions

If they’re wrong, Tyrri will go on about it for a bit, and then say “no, that couldn’t be right” or something along those lines

Think of those Revisualization sequences from the 3D Ace Attorney games; it’s an interactive cutscene meant to make it so that the player feels more involved than if Tyrri came to her conclusions on her own

Tyrri furiously writes down all of her notes, notices that the sun is beginning to set, and then sets off for the inn (the next cargo shipment leaves the following day)

Outside of The Beacon, Tyrri has to go through a crowd of people for reasons (I guess it’s a busier town)

Two people stand out as not being generic NPCs; one of them bumps into Tyrri and begins walking away, which she doesn’t notice at first

Exiting the crowd, Tyrri realises that her messenger bag is gone

All of her research, all of her equipment, years of work, all stored in a small satchel

Tearing back through the crowd in pursuit of the thieves, she spots them

Turning a few corners and gaining on them due to her expertise in back alleys, they duck into a sewer nearby, leading into…

The Fourth Dungeon: Aqueduct of the Port

It’s the Grandport Sewers, gang. I’m a fraud.

Truly nothing interesting to say about this one

Might take some inspiration from the Seat of the Water Sprite in the Crestlands as well but I truly cannot be interesting about this

Sorry, gang.

The sewers open up into a single gap between some of the buildings that forms a rough circle: there seems to be some kind of design drawn onto the ground as well

Sneaking up on the two interlopers, Tyrri overhears a few things

First, the two are named Michaelis and MacPherson; MacPherson has a heavy Scottish accent that really emphasizes the “Makk” in his name

Second, Michaelis mentions something about how weird it is to “work for a seventeen year-old, no matter who her pop is”

Tyrri eventually bursts in on them, triggering…

The Fourth Boss: Michaelis and MacPherson

Duo bosses! My favourite!

No seriously I love duo bosses so much octopath needs more of them

Anyway it’s a similar split focus to the Mystery Man and Shady Figure from Ophilia’s story

Michaelis focuses on beating you down with AoE spells whilst MacPherson presses the debuff button

MacPherson goes earlier in the turn order but Michaelis has two actions rather than one

They enter boost mode together with the lines “On your mark, Michaelis!” “Always, MacPherson!”

When you take one down the other immediately enters boost mode and gains an additional action per turn, standard fare

Once again I don’t have a ton to say about this boss, Tyrri’s route isn’t nearly as boss-focused as Aestia’s was (I miss Eldroy and the Pontifex…)

After the boss ends, the duo is backed into a corner, and Tyrri is about to retrieve her bag, when…

A sudden gust of wind sweeps her off her feet

The culprit? Simple. There she is, emerging into the light right now

One hand concentrating on some kind of spell and the other raised in an offensive position is none other than Catena Novi

She looks kinda worse for wear, which I unfortunately can only really portray by making her hair messier

Accursed tiny octopath sprites and their lack of emotive control

Anyway she walks in, refusing to even look at Tyrri, and sweeps her out of the room with another gust of wind

Michaelis/MacPherson makes a “you ready, boss?” type comment to confirm that she is, in fact, the one of which they spoke

Tyrri looks up as the design on the ground flares to life, revealing its true nature as a teleportation circle

“Cat?”

Catena turns, eyes shadowed, before turning her back again

And just like that, they’re gone. All of that research down the drain. Stolen.

There is yet one spark of hope: there’s only one place that Cat could have gone

Tyrri rises from the ground, brushes herself off, and heads to the harbour, bound for the colony of scholars across the sea

The story will continue in Seekersgate

[beantothemax]

Chapter Four:

Port-des-Lumières is a really cool place that I really like and I just want to talk about it because I like it

Most of the Deltalands is fairly wet and marshy but as soon as you approach the sea cliffs and shit start popping up

Sitting atop these cliffs in Port-des-Lumières is not one but two lighthouses, one much larger and newer than the other

The old one is in fact the library that Willie and Dante spoke of; after the new one was built, no one wanted to tear the old one down, so they just renovated it and converted it into a library, called The Beacon

The bit where the light goes was fairly overlarge, so they plopped some tables in that bad boy and it became the designated Best Study Area Ever

Also in the top bit is a multicoloured orb of light in a spherical cage. That one got put there as a prank by some teenaged mages and no one is quite sure how to take it out. So you’ve got the wide open sea on one side of you and The Orb on the other

Tyrri ascends this delightful little place and begins her final assessment of her information

To trigger this, you enter a Synergize section, with a fairly low damage threshold

First synapse (magic in the water): the magic in the water has origin signatures that line up extremely closely to populations of animals in the area in comparison to their magical strength (more magical creatures and more common creatures show up the most in Tasslemore’s analysis)

Conclusion: the magic comes from those animals

Hypothesis: the magic is given freely by those animals for whatever reason, confirm with further research

Second synapse (properties of the crystals): the structure of the crystals lends itself well to capturing magic via contact and then releasing it into another magic-conductive material, but cannot hold magic for very long on its own

Conclusion: the crystals could be used to capture oncoming magic and store it for later use

Hypothesis: the crystals could be used to absorb magic from other magic-conductive materials before transferring it to other MCMs

Third synapse (origin of the crystals): the crystals have the same magical makeup as the water, only distilled and in a fully solid form (stated in Tasslemore’s research, potentially previously hypothesized by Tyrri)

Conclusion: the crystals grew from the water, similarly to those silly little experiments you do as a kid only far more magically potent

During the Synergize section, the facts will be laid out and the player will be prompted to select one of three conclusions

If they’re wrong, Tyrri will go on about it for a bit, and then say “no, that couldn’t be right” or something along those lines

Think of those Revisualization sequences from the 3D Ace Attorney games; it’s an interactive cutscene meant to make it so that the player feels more involved than if Tyrri came to her conclusions on her own

Tyrri furiously writes down all of her notes, notices that the sun is beginning to set, and then sets off for the inn (the next cargo shipment leaves the following day)

Outside of The Beacon, Tyrri has to go through a crowd of people for reasons (I guess it’s a busier town)

Two people stand out as not being generic NPCs; one of them bumps into Tyrri and begins walking away, which she doesn’t notice at first

Exiting the crowd, Tyrri realises that her messenger bag is gone

All of her research, all of her equipment, years of work, all stored in a small satchel

Tearing back through the crowd in pursuit of the thieves, she spots them

Turning a few corners and gaining on them due to her expertise in back alleys, they duck into a sewer nearby, leading into…

The Fourth Dungeon: Aqueduct of the Port

It’s the Grandport Sewers, gang. I’m a fraud.

Truly nothing interesting to say about this one

Might take some inspiration from the Seat of the Water Sprite in the Crestlands as well but I truly cannot be interesting about this

Sorry, gang.

The sewers open up into a single gap between some of the buildings that forms a rough circle: there seems to be some kind of design drawn onto the ground as well

Sneaking up on the two interlopers, Tyrri overhears a few things

First, the two are named Michaelis and MacPherson; MacPherson has a heavy Scottish accent that really emphasizes the “Makk” in his name

Second, Michaelis mentions something about how weird it is to “work for a seventeen year-old, no matter who her pop is”

Tyrri eventually bursts in on them, triggering…

The Fourth Boss: Michaelis and MacPherson

Duo bosses! My favourite!

No seriously I love duo bosses so much octopath needs more of them

Anyway it’s a similar split focus to the Mystery Man and Shady Figure from Ophilia’s story

Michaelis focuses on beating you down with AoE spells whilst MacPherson presses the debuff button

MacPherson goes earlier in the turn order but Michaelis has two actions rather than one

They enter boost mode together with the lines “On your mark, Michaelis!” “Always, MacPherson!”

When you take one down the other immediately enters boost mode and gains an additional action per turn, standard fare

Once again I don’t have a ton to say about this boss, Tyrri’s route isn’t nearly as boss-focused as Aestia’s was (I miss Eldroy and the Pontifex…)

After the boss ends, the duo is backed into a corner, and Tyrri is about to retrieve her bag, when…

A sudden gust of wind sweeps her off her feet

The culprit? Simple. There she is, emerging into the light right now

One hand concentrating on some kind of spell and the other raised in an offensive position is none other than Catena Novi

She looks kinda worse for wear, which I unfortunately can only really portray by making her hair messier

Accursed tiny octopath sprites and their lack of emotive control

Anyway she walks in, refusing to even look at Tyrri, and sweeps her out of the room with another gust of wind

Michaelis/MacPherson makes a “you ready, boss?” type comment to confirm that she is, in fact, the one of which they spoke

Tyrri looks up as the design on the ground flares to life, revealing its true nature as a teleportation circle

“Cat?”

Catena turns, eyes shadowed, before turning her back again

And just like that, they’re gone. All of that research down the drain. Stolen.

There is yet one spark of hope: there’s only one place that Cat could have gone

Tyrri rises from the ground, brushes herself off, and heads to the harbour, bound for the colony of scholars across the sea

The story will continue in Seekersgate

thankfully this one fits in a single ask, even though its way more important than chapter 3

wasn’t expecting the crystals being those little growing dinosaur sponges wasn’t a plot point I was expecting but here we are.

Iris you’re forgiven for making the dungeon just the Grandport Sewers because I also have a sin to admit… I had to go look back at tyrri’s chapter one to remember who catena was IM SORRY

(btw this is absolutely not a ‘your writing’ issue it’s entirely a ‘my brain is horrible at remembering names’ issue)

considering the final boss’s title for tyrri was ‘the final solution’ I am… concerned with what catera wants with that research. girl you better not create a horror this world has not yet seen for the sole pursuit of knowledge.

[thetragicallynerdy]

hiya!

just stumbled over the soft ask game and thought tis might be fun. 1, 5 and 10 if ye dinnae mind c:

have a great day, night ... evening!

toodles

Hello pal!! Oooh awesome thank you!

1) your favourite playlist (made by yourself or someone else)

Oh my god I have so many favourite playlists XD I'm going to do top 5, because otherwise I'll be here all day. All but one I think are made by me, or by me and a pal collaboratively. (Because I like my own playlists so much lmao)

Okay to preface this - 1) most of my playlists are made for a specific fic I'm writing, 2) I am literally in love with almost every playlist I make so this was hard to narrow down, 3) most of them are sad ok?? I like sad music so be warned XD

and the counting of teeth (by myself and lovewithagirl, for our very fucking sad Jim/Ed OFMD WIP)

dust and bones, copper and blood (by myself, for the witch Clayton UnDeadwood au that's still in the works)

wish i knew how to quit you (by myself, for the nemesis au, a very sad very long Aly/Clayton UnDeadwood WIP - a lot of this was also suggested by various folks over on the udw server)

honey don't feed it (by myself, for the UnDeadwood shifter fic by the same name)

ready to be heartbroken (by myself, for the modern au Jim/Ed OFMD WIP)

There are SO many other ones I really love - there's a eastern canada themed one for the lighthouse au, a paranormal romance one I did not create that I fucking adore, etc. But those are the top ones XD

5) Five TV shows that cheer you up

I already answered this in another ask, but here's five MORE tv shows that cheer me up sjskskj

Slings and Arrows - another Very Canadian show about the theatre. Absolutely hilarious. Essential as someone who grew up in a theatre town.

Leverage (and Redemption) - I just love them so much!

Jing: King of Bandits - one of the only animes that I would still watch these days. I fucking adore it so much. My fav anime (and manga) series of all time for sure.

Miami Vice - Yes, the 80s one. Don't @ me okay I love it even if it's terrible, I went through a huge Miami Vice stage in my teens/early 20s. (My dad and I used to watch it together, and then I stole all his seasons to take with me to University lol)

Parks and Rec - I haven't watched it in a while but it's still SUCH a funny show.

10) Something you’ve created in the last year that you’re proud of (a playlist, a piece of art, some writing, a craft hobby, a social media account, etc)

Oh this is a really lovely question! A few things spring to mind.

I have an art piece that I made this year that was actually acquisitioned by one of my very small local museums. It's a piece that I'm super proud of, and it feels really neat that it's in a museum now! On a related note, I also started an art account earlier this year, which was a really big step for me art-wise. It's been fun, even if I'm really bad at updating.

Honestly I'm also super proud of a bunch of my fanfics that I've written this year! It feels like a bit more of a haphazard writing year, and I've been having trouble writing consistent fics lately, but I'm still proud of it :)

Thanks for the ask friend!! I hope you're having a wonderful evening!!

[romance-club-daily]

If you're interested:

Yim (Author of Hell and High Water) answered some questions about the book on Reddit~

I compiled some (after the cut), but here is the link if you want to see the full AMA: x

May we know the ages of the characters? (+ Todd and Pramila)?)

For the current crew of main characters, these are the ages:

MC - 27

Chand - 25

Sunny - 34

Phoebe - 22

RJ - 22

Todd and Pramila are both 27

2. May we also know a fun fact about each main characters?

MC - Her scar is not from a tragic backstory incident 😅

Chand - Has a bottomless stomach

Sunny - Grew up at a lighthouse

Phoebe - Has a tattoo on her wrist

RJ - Is not a cat person

3. What inspired you to write HHW?

I thought it would be nice to write a story with mostly altruistic characters that is hopeful. And then, of course, why not add boats? It was definitely in part inspired by the story of Dunkirk, with regular people making a difference in a difficult situation.

4. What's RJ, Sunny & Chand's favorite music genre? 👀

RJ - retro alt (this would be something like a mix of jazz and classical)

Sunny - blast metal

Chand - skapop

5. Were the names Sunny and Chand (sun and moon) kept on purpose?

Yes, they were on purpose. In general, there are a lot of natural and hopeful names in the story. The idea being that around the time these characters were born, it was a popular theme for baby names. And with the moon having such a huge affect on the tides, it would be considered auspicious.

6. Will Chand ever speak in Hindi? I ask, as a fellow Indian, who's really happy to see a desi character in your book!

Chand will probably not speak Hindi. While it's used a bit around his house, he isn't fluent and hasn't really made an effort to learn the language, though he certainly knows a number of words.

7. We know that except Homeport, remaining towns are real. So, when did this Homeport came into existence (year) if not a spoiler?

Homeport was founded in 2088

8. Has Chand always had a crush on Lori and that’s why his relationships never lasted, or is this something he suddenly realizes? If it’s always been this way, I’m wondering how that would go when not on his route. If it’s something he would admit to her.

Chand has had a bit of a crush on Lori since they were young, but I wouldn’t say that’s why his relationships never lasted. Their dynamic is interesting because they grew up together until they were teenagers, then Lori moved away for about a decade. So, right about the time Chand was getting interested in romantic relationships, Lori left. I wouldn’t say he forgot about her, but he kind of wrote off the possibility of a relationship. The next episodes deal with the latter half of your question, so I don’t want to get into the details too much, but I’ll say that how close of a relationship the player develops with Chand determines whether or not he’ll admit to any feelings.

9. How many end game LI’s are there? (Hopefully not a spoiler) and of course, will Todd be a LI?

The number of end game LI’s has not been fully decided. However, there are currently 5 planned love interests that I would consider “end-game” so far as having lots of screen time and direct interactions with Lori throughout the story regardless of length. Part of this depends on the ultimate length of the story. I’ve structured it so that it will be able to reach a satisfying conclusion in either 2 or 3 seasons, depending on what ultimately ends up making sense. Todd is a romanceable character, but if you’re looking for lots of screen-time and intimate scenes with your LI, I can’t recommend him.

10. Can we see Lori traveling to other parts of world later in the story?

At this time, her adventures will be contained to the northwest Pacific Ocean/coast, but there's a lot of interesting stuff up there.

11. Will we see Spot again, the loveliest of all orcas, and will there be more animals and pets in the story?

Yes, we will definitely see Spot again :D And I promise there will be more animals. There may be more pets.

12. Assuming that Todd is really interested in Lori and it's not just a rumor, what exactly does he like about her the most?

Todd’s honestly a bit too embarrassed to say what he likes about her the most, but he does like that she’s down to earth and doesn’t take what he does for granted. He also think she has a really sweet smile when she’s half-awake in the morning.

13. Can you tell me a Chand secret that he only told Lori about?

His mother’s favorite wooden spoon didn’t get lost. He broke it when he was 6 trying to pry open an old crate they found while the tide was out, and he and Lori buried it in the woods so no one would find out.

14. Speaking of pets, what treats would Baku and Nixie (and the Orca?) prefer?

Baku loves fish of pretty much any variety. Nixie is a carb-fiend. Spot would love to eat some seals, which makes me very conflicted.

15. Will we in the future hear more about the Arctic Wars or the Wall? I am very intrigued by the lore of those!

I think that yes, there will be some mention and discussion of these. I try to work in all the world building organically. We'll definitely learn some more about the Arctic Wars, just because they've had such an impact on the world. The Wall and walled cities in general probably won't come up all that much.

16. If Lori were to meet any of the other MCs, which whom would she get along the best?

I'm guilty of not having played every story... but I think she would get along really well with Theodora, who seems pretty outgoing and down to earth. I mean, Adelaide and her would probably have a good time too.

17. Is there any possibility of crossovers/references to other books in the future?

Yes, there certainly is, but I think these will mostly just be little easter eggs.

18. Can we have the ages, heights, and zodiac sign of the main cast?

Lori: (In my head she's 5'5" but she turned out much taller because RC MC's are tall)

Sun: Gemini

Ascendant: Cancer

Moon: Libra

Chand: 6'2"

Sun: Aquarius

Ascendant: Leo

Moon: Pisces

Phoebe: 5'4" ( trivia - she was originally 5'10" but a miscommunication ended up with her being much shorter)

Sunny: 5'2"

RJ: 5'9"

19. So Chand have night vision. Will we meet other characters with some kind of "super power".

Yes, but they may not be as obvious or visually interesting as Chand's. Most genetic splicing/modification was done in the period leading up to the collapse by more affluent groups, and most of these groups wound up either inside of the walls in the metros or even on off-planet colonies.

20. Will we learn more about past event that lead to the current world situation.

Yes, but I don't intend to ever just try and explain everything that happened because there are so many different factors that lead up to the state of the world.

21. Can you tell us 1 thing that all the 17 exes of Chand had in common lol?

They all didn't actually know what they wanted out of a relationship when they started dating him? XD

22. Is the story episodic with many small adventures or is there a long term plot that will connect those adventures? I’m so curious about what awaits us in the future!

There is a long term plot, but it's mostly character-driven.

23. About RJ!! I can even imagine that things I ask about his life and family will be spoilers, so I’m gonna ask some trivia:

- What are his favorite things/stories that he has heard about "the world in the past”?

- What's his favorite place to go?

- What is something that is very challenging to him?

- Is there a CG coming soon or not so soon yet?

Favorite things he's heard about from the past - he finds the idea of everyone carrying tiny functional GPS units around in their pockets highly entertaining; Favorite place - a calm ocean; Challenging thing - Admitting when he messed up at his job; There is a CG with RJ planned for the next episode.

24. Will MC reconcile with her parents in future? (I hope this is not a spoiler).

Reconciling with the MC's parents will be up to the player.

25. Will the shipwrecked sailor in episode 5 be a LI since Lori has already gotten into bed with him? 😂

Yes XD

26. Has Lori had any serious relationships in the past?

Lori has not had a serious relationship before.

27.  I am quite confused with Chand's eye condition?? Does he have super vision at night?

Chand has extremely good night vision because his eyes have a reflective layer in them. So, he's super sensitive to light, which is why, in most cases, he wears goggle-like sunglasses. (Light reflection is even worse when you're on the water).

28. Will we able to do make over of boat in future?

You will not be able to change the way Gitana looks. That said, there may be some boat remodeling happening.

29. Will the nightmare of MC we lately saw in latest update, can it become true?? Like chances of our li's or character's dying??

There will definitely be chances of other characters dying in this story. David and Captain Chellberg can both die already, but they won't be the only ones.

30. Lastly, in your personal opinion, is it better to accumulate more points in a certain stat category or to balance all stats points evenly?

Balancing vs. maxing - This one is tough, I don't think there's a best way to play. If you want to be the salty sea dog, then prag is good to focus on, but prag Lori can be a real hardass 😅. I'd encourage going for what seems most fun.

31. Can we balance our points?

You can!

32. Is there any character in your story with mental health issues?

Yes. There are a few that come to mind. Some will be touched on in the story, others will likely not.

33. Any chance Pramila is an LI? Mayhaps not a full branch? We're in love with her character design. 

She is not a romanceable character, unfortunately. I agree, the artists did a great job with her.

34. How many chapters can we expect in the upcoming update?

2 chapters for next update, they'll be fun ones!

35. How long does it take you to write a chapter?

This depends, but generally I have 3 weeks to finish each chapter. At this time, I have several other responsibilities that keep me occupied, but I'm hoping that eventually I'll be able to just focus on writing almost full time.

[asunshinepuff]

Secrets of the Darkened Seas

🧜🏻‍♀️ Hello! Welcome to chapter three! Please please please give a like and follow to my co-author and best friend Luna ( @ladynightmare913 ) because this story would not be where it’s at without her help!

She’s incredible and deserves so much credit for working on this alongside me cause she works so hard. And I feel horrible that she isn’t getting the credit deserves.

Especially since this chapter includes some of her own ocs in addition to my own! There’s a lot of new faces to join us! All credit for creation goes to each other for our respective characters because we’ve both worked so hard to create our ocs and I wouldn’t dare want to take credit away from her.

As always, a reminder that there is some lore included within this, however, it will be explained over time so no worries. There’s no mention of lore for right now.

The Included lore on different types of merfolk will be taken from the book “The Secret World of Mermaids” by Francine Rose. We will not take credit for it’s writing. It’s a childhood book of mine that I adore dearly and sincerely think you should all check out!

Also! Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so that you don’t miss a new chapter!

Anyways, that’s about it. I hope you enjoy!

If you’ve missed any chapters here’s the link to the masterlist for this story Secrets of the Darkened Seas 🧜🏻‍♀️

Small warning at the start here, there is a minor character death included in this chapter.

.

Chapter 3: A Sea of Fireworks

Three years passed as The Dragon’s Pearl sailed the seven seas. There had been many fierce battles and grand adventures as Remus learned the ways of the sword from both Captain Hua and First mate Sandoval. During the past few years, Remus found a particular fondness for literature that grew further than when he was younger. Along the way, there have been many new companions to join the shipmates, and the secrets of a certain young man were revealed. A year on his own at sea taught Remus many things, but he couldn’t help but miss the company of those upon The Dragons’ Pearl. 

Now at seventeen summers old, the once young boy has grown into a fine young man. 

Under the sea, there was a mythical creature with bright shimmering amber scales, varying in shades of accent tones from the top of his tail, to his fluke. The moonlight breached the surface of the darkened sea, the light reflected off of his amber eyes, as if they began to shine and glow under the moon’s pale beauty. His medium length tawny colored hair flowed around him in the cool waters. The mer turned down before his arms moved forwards as he dived down deeper into the sea. The deeper he went, the darker it became. 

As he reached the seafloor, he swam at a leisurely pace, brushing a clawed hand against the seagrass. Looking up, the seagrass became littered with life, crabs, small, fish, seahorses, an octopus, and coral. He chuckled to himself as the fish scattered when he swam near them, a green sea turtle by his side seemed to follow him, wherever he went. It had felt too long since he had last been in the sea. 

Remus’ head turned sharply upwards as he picked up the sound of a muffled screeching noise coming from the surface. Then a muted bang before a flash of scattered gold light. With a strong flick of his tail, the floor beneath him vanished from sight as he neared the surface. 

Breaching from the water, he looks up to the familiar ship with concern, “Opal! What’s happening?!” He yells up to the deck. 

In an instant, a tall beautiful greek woman, around the age of twenty-three, with long light brown hair, hazel green eyes, lightly tanned skin peered over the railing of the deck to respond. She was dressed in a sea-blue off the shoulder long-sleeved shirt that was tucked into her light brown pants, with a black corset vest on top, and black boots. At her hip was a wide sword with a dark blue sheath, and its hilt had the detailing of a trident. 

“Min-Jun received a letter! We have to make port in Portland! The Blacks and Greyback were spotted off the coast of Dorset!” She lowers the rope ladder and opens the small gate, “Get your tail up here!”

Remus catches the ladder with ease and pulls himself up onto it, “What’s the sudden hurry? We’re currently off the coast of Dorset ourselves.” He comments, looking back up to his friend. 

“Quinn’s family lives in Portland, he thinks they’ll be going after them!” Opal replies, tossing down a blanket for Remus to dry his scales with.

Remus winces as the blanket lands upon his head, frowning as it blocks his view. Pulling the soft cloth from his head, he sets to work on drying himself and his scales, “But why would they go after his family?” He yells out. 

Opal pauses, a somber look upon her face as she watches Remus make his way up the rope ladder with his two legs, scales now nowhere to be seen. She shakes her head as he reaches the deck, “I don’t know. But I think something’s wrong.”

Two-quarters of an hour pass with The Dragon’s Pearl sailing at full speed to Portland. The sea seemed to be at their side that night, the sound of cannon fire reached the members of the crew. The lifeboats were lowered with First mate Sandoval and Remus inside one of the boats. 

Remus’ eyes widened when he saw the pitch-black sails of The Ophiuchus which could barely be seen from a distance. The ship’s colors had a black flag with a white skull with a snake coming out of an eye socket. The Blacks. The ancient pirate ship passed down from generation to generation of Blacks. Rumors and tales continuously traveled from sailors aboard many ships about the family, the ship gaining the nickname of Grimmauld amongst the gossiping sailors. Remus had heard many tales himself in the past. 

The Blacks were ruthless in their pliage for gold, leaving no survivors. There were tales of The Ophiuchus battling The Dragon’s Pearl when Captain Orion Black attempted to steal the other Captain’s ship. Although Captain Hua was young, he forced the Blacks to flee when their ship suffered too much damage. The Captain of The Dragon’s Pearl had given them a warning years ago that should he ever see them again, he would kill the Captain of The Ophiuchus.

The boats reached the docks before everyone ran up to the small town of Portland. Quinn cut down any pirate who foolishly stood in his way. Remus followed close behind, sword drawn at the ready, and cut down any pirate who tried to go after Quinn whilst the man’s back was turned. Remus had grown used to the occasional battle, but hardly ever were the stakes this high. Opal and Captain Hua had stayed on the ship with a skeleton crew, while the other sailors joined Remus and Quinn to shore. 

Remus stopped in his tracks when one of the pirates was running straight for him. With the sword in his hand, Remus quickly stabbed the pirate in the abdomen before pulling his sword free and running to catch up with Quinn. Who was running up a hill towards the Lighthouse faster than Remus had ever seen the man move. 

Up close the lighthouse was rather beautiful for its old age, time had been kind to it, yet the years have clearly made their marks all throughout the house. The lighthouse more than likely had many stories to tell. Standing tall with red and white patterns, a small quaint cottage at the base of the lighthouse became visible as Remus neared the property. The house was alight with shadows dancing across the windows as pirates breached the door, the sound of clanging swords could be heard coming from inside the house. Quinn cut down pirates until he finally managed to enter the house. 

Quinn’s eyes widened as he surveyed the state of the house, there were countless pirates from both the Black’s and Greyback’s sailors engaged in sword fights. There was hardly a break as he entered the fray of battle, cutting down unsuspecting men from behind and never letting his guard down.

A middle-aged woman with black hair tied into a messy bun, bright brown eyes, fair skin, and rosy lips gripped the rapier in her hand tightly as she slashed down another pirate. She twirled expertly, her white nightgown and dark robe twirling with her, to dodge a blow from another pirate before she stabs them, she pulls the sword free before she raises it to the man who just entered the cottage, freezing as her eyes widen in surprise. “Quinn!” She exclaimed before her eyes darted to a pirate behind him who began to stir awake. 

He smiles at the exclamation before following her line of sight, turning behind him he sees the pirate that began to stir awake. Flipping the hilt of his sword in hand, he stabs the newly conscious pirate in the chest before turning back to the woman, “Mother are you alright?” He looked over the cottage, objects just laying scatter on the floor before he looked back to his mother. 

“I’m perfectly alright, it’s your father I’m worried about, that blasted Greyback cornered him to the basement!” The woman turned her gaze to the young man who just reached the door, quickly assessing him before offering him a small nod. “And you must be Remus.”  

Remus nods in return, “I am. How did you-” He cuts himself off as the answer was obvious and gives his First mate a pointed look, “Quinn. You’ve told them about me haven’t you?”

“Remus. Who do you take me for? Of course, I did.” Quinn mirrors the same pointed look back, “How else do you think Min-Jun and I were able to help you as a child?” He looks back to his mother, “We better move quickly. Hopefully, father is using the basement to his advantage.”

“Quinn, this is your father, of course, he is.” The woman turns to a door that leads to a staircase to the basement. Quickly lifting her skirt the woman rushed down the stairs. 

The three rush down the stairs and into the large dimly lit basement, which could only be described as a very large study with storage. Bookshelves lined the walls and the shelves themselves were stacked with a variety of mythical things one would only believe to be within the tales. Color bottles and vials littered the shelves of the room, various plants were in every corner of the room. In the center of the basement, a large man with a cutlass scoured the room with a harsh glare for the man who was hiding. 

The man wielding the cutlass was large, nearly the height of Min-Jun and Quinn, he had a vicious looking face, with very long matted grey hair in dreads, a scar going across his right eye, the iris pale compared to its twin which was pitch black. His left ear had a gold hoop earring, his teeth were visible as he sneered at others who interrupted his dual. 

Remus’ eyes could only widen as he looked upon the large man, his breathing quickening and grip tightening on his sword. Every part of him grew defensive and fearful, his instincts screaming at him to get out. To run. He’s heard of this man before, Fenrir Greyback, a notorious and ruthless hunter of mers alike, capturing and selling mers for profit, or simply to just experiment on them. Other times he’d simply slaughter any merfolk he could find.

Greyback’s knuckles looked raw and battered with blood as he gripped his weapon tightly, his long yellowish nails were easily spotted as his right hand pressed against his chest, a wound with fresh blood seeping through his grey shirt. “This isn’t over.” He snarled before he ran out the basement door. 

Hidden behind a bookcase, was a middle-aged man with tousled red-brown hair with long bangs parted to the left, light-colored skin, and blue eyes. He wore a simple navy blue shirt underneath a grey robe, light brown pants, and dark brown boots. Eyes trained as he watched the burly man closely, sword drawn at the ready to continue the duel. He made no motion to move as Greyback snarled in warning, back pressed flush against the wood until he could hear the pounding footsteps a safe distance away. 

Relaxing marginally, he exits his retreat behind the bookcase and sighs, “That man is repulsive.” He mutters under his breath.

“You’re not wrong about that father.” Quinn chuckles as he gently pats his father’s shoulder. 

“Why would Greyback come all the way out here? Why would he attack you?” Remus looked at the older man.

“Probably because my husband has something he wants.” The older woman looks to her husband. “Are you alright?”  

The older man looks to his wife and nods, “I’m alright. If anything Greyback’s in much worse shape. That wound is going to leave quite a scar if untreated.”

“What was he after?” Remus looked between the older couple. 

“Something no one should know exists.” The woman looked around the room. Muttering under her breath at the state of the room. “But rumors are a powerful thing, especially when they hold truths.” 

“And especially if it makes you incredibly well known in the nautical world.” The man continued with a sigh. Moving aside his robe, he pulls free a rather thick leather book from an inner pocket and looks down at it. “He’d be a fool to think I’d just leave it lying about.”

Remus’ eyes looked over the leather book. At first glance, it was nothing out of the ordinary, but Remus knew better than to judge a book by its cover. It was what’s inside the book that Greyback took a slash to the chest in order to obtain. And failed. Whatever information that was contained inside the book was important. Why else would such a siege upon this small home occur? Enough to bring both Greyback and the Blacks themselves here. 

“This book is the only one in existence.”  The woman looked at Remus as she stood beside her husband. “It’s about your kind.” Gently taking the book from her husbands’ hands, she holds the book to Remus. “My husband wrote everything he learned about the magical creatures of the sea.” She smiles as she encourages Remus to take the book. 

“About my kind…” He repeats at a whisper before a realization comes to mind, amber eyes widening at the thought, “That’s why he wanted the book. To hunt more merfolk.” A cold shudder runs down his spine at the thought of Greyback getting his hands upon this book. No wonder the older man fought to protect it with his life. Mers alike would be in even more danger than in the past. And after seeing the man in person, Remus felt as though the rumors didn’t give any accurate insight as to how gruesome the pirate actually appeared, and the snarling tone of his voice would most likely echo in his mind for days. 

At the older man’s nod in confirmation, he looked back at him. “How long have you been working on this?” Remus asked as he took the book, with careful hands.

“Many years. I was a bit younger than you when I first started writing the beginning pages.”

Remus looks down to the worn leather book and opens to a well-kept page, Fantastic Nautical Creatures, by Newt Scamander. Remus’ eyes widen at the title and familiar name, pausing mid-turn of a page. Wait. Remus looks at Quinn with wide eyes, before he looks back to the older couple. 

“You’re Newt Scamander,” He looks to the woman, “And you’re Porpetina Scamander!” 

“Please, call me Tina dear.” She rubs Remus’ arm in a comforting manner. 

Remus looks to Quinn, an unreadable expression upon his face. Quinn had called them mother and father. That means… “You’re their son?!” 

“Quinton Scamander is my real name,” Quinn answered with a simple shrug. “Sandoval was the first thing I could come up with when you asked for my name. I’m not exactly used to keeping an alias.” He looks at his parents. “Why couldn’t you have just kept it at Quinn?” 

“And leave the Scamander tradition of giving horrible names? I couldn’t possibly.” Tina chuckled.

“Oh, you wound me, mother. What a way to keep tradition.” Quinn replies with a wince. 

“It’s not like my family did any better.” Tina retorts just as the sound of cannon fire boomed, echoing throughout the basement. Tensing, everyone turned their heads to the back door, and with a nod from Newt, they exited the damaged basement and headed to the cliffs.

As the group ran back towards the shoreline, Remus could see The Dragon’s Pearl exchanging cannon fire with The Ophiuchus. The ships both suffered blows from the other, only the Dragon’s Pearl wasn’t on fire. And what appeared to be Min-Jun, swinging on a rope, from the Ophiuchus back to the Dragon’s Pearl.

Quinn only groaned at the sight. “And he gives me lectures about swinging from a rope.” Hypocrite. “Why are you like this…” He mumbled under his breath.

Tina and Newt only chuckled as their son scowled at the captain. They ran to the docks just as the Ophiuchus began to make their retreat, and the Dragon’s Pearl making its way to the loading docks. Opal was the first rush down to welcome Quinn and Remus back. 

Quinn had a strange feeling, one that he couldn’t place as he looked over Opal. Relieved that the woman wasn’t injured in the crossfire, although he was well aware that she could easily handle herself. “Ti synévi?” What happened? he had asked.

“To shorten it: Min-Jun snuck onto Greyback’s ship and found two gorgónes. Mermaids. Brought them back to The Dragon’s Pearl, then snuck onto the Ophiuchus, rescued the second Black heir and brought him back as well.” Opal said with a shake of her head, “How that was possible, I have no idea.” 

“Sounds about right,” Newt replied with a chuckle.

The older couple looked at their son, who had never told them he learned and spoke greek. Newt and Tina looked at each other before sharing a knowing smile. Tina looked to the woman with the greek accent. “I’m Tina Scamander, Quinn’s mother. I wonder why my dear son would fail to mention a lovely lady such as yourself in his letters?” She turns her head slowly to glare at Quinn, who found the sea far more interesting at the moment. Tina looked back to the young woman. “What is your name dear?” 

Opal watched Quinn’s gaze quickly turn to the sea in embarrassment. Oh this awkward man. She fought the urge to tease the poor man, there was time to mess with him another time. Not in front of his parents. She smiled as she looked at Tina. “Opal Teresi. It’s nice to meet you.”

Remus looked to Quinn with a teasing smirk, “Really? You mention me in your letters but not Opal?” 

“Shut. Up.” Quinn says with wide eyes that seemed to promise pain with an unnaturally wide smile.

“You’ll have to write to me dear, Quinn hardly ever writes what’s going on in his life. I have to rely on Min-Jun for that.” She tsks she pats Opal’s hand affectionately.  

“I will,” Opal replies with a nod. 

“May I see them?” Newt asks the young woman. “The mermaids.” 

The young woman pauses for a moment and looks to Newt, “They’re terrified, so please. If there’s any way you could help.”

“Maybe I can get them to calm down?” Remus suggests looking to Opal and Newt. 

“That may be for the best.” Opal agrees, “We better hurry, Min-Jun wants to leave as soon as possible. Before the Blacks notice their son is missing.”  

Opal leads the group to the cabins, walking past many doors until they finally stop at one door with a circular window. Remus peered inside and froze when a pair of glaring eyes locked to his. Inside the room, there was a tall beautiful Asian woman with wet long dark brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin, and bright red lips. She looked to be about Opal’s age. Her tail was a dazzling array of soft blue scales that looked like misshapen spots, with white scales as the base, her fluke was nearly a translucent shimmery white. Her skin was pale, her arms were wrapped tightly around the smaller mer. Her tail coiled around them protectively. Remus nearly gasped. The mermaid only clutched the child tighter, her glare never leaving Remus’ face.

The mer in her arms was tiny. A child, who couldn’t have been older than four. The mer child had short soft silky black hair that was in disarray, brown eyes, light sun-kissed skin. The child clung tightly to the older mermaid's neck, their tail had pale teal and shimmery white scales with the same patterns as the older mermaid, safely tucked under her arms. The mer child’s shoulders were shaking, pearls littered the blankets beneath them. Tears. They sat alone in the room, laying on top of a few spare blankets for the cabin beds.

Remus’ gaze was pulled away at the sound of running footsteps, a sailor running past them in haste, to the infirmary. On impulse, Remus followed the sailor as they walked through the door. 

There Min-Jun sat on a chair, looming over a deathly still figure, his face pale. Min-Jun was holding the still figure’s hand. 

Remus gulped, scared to find out who the figure was. “Who…” 

Min-Jun looked up to see Remus. With pained eyes he looked back down to the figure. Gently putting the cold hand to rest on their chest. 

“Ethan’s dead.” 

.

Tag List: (Let me know if you wish to be added!)

@whataboutmyfries

@sunflowerfox87

@spookypotato​

[allsassnoclass]

this is a niche au written specifically for @calumsclifford because she put the idea in my head.  I probably won’t continue it but there’s Potential in this universe so please enjoy the very beginnings of a Raven Cycle au

Luke Hemmings has forgotten how many times he has been told that he will kill his true love.

He grew up with predictions swirling around his household before he could talk.  Most of them are significantly less specific: You will have the opportunity to earn a sum of money, be ready for it.  Something catastrophic will happen tomorrow, possibly to do with the number six.  You have a difficult decision that will not make itself.  Go with your gut.

Liz Hemmings and the other ladies of 300 Fox Way begin each reading with the assurance that “these predictions will be accurate, but not very specific.”  It’s easier that way.  Clients can then believe however much they chose to.  Was the neighbor offering to pay extra to buy their lawnmower a coincidence, or what the psychic foretold?  Was the minivan carrying six passengers that ran into their car bad luck or a fulfilled prophecy?  In this way, it becomes a bit of a game for clients to figure out how exactly each prediction will come true.  Their little house remains a roadside attraction without garnering an inconvenient amount of attention.

Predictions about Luke were never anything but precisely accurate.  His mother knew that he would sprain his wrist on the first day of school.  He could never lie about his grades, because Jimi or Persephone would tell his mom about the content of his report card before he got home.  Calla always predicts what song he’s going to play when he pulls out the guitar even if she’s never heard it before.  Everyone in that house knew he was gay before he ever thought to come out.

The Fox Way psychics do not have a habit of being wrong, whether they’re predicting Liz’s tax returns within ten dollars or humming a song a minute before it plays on the radio.

Luke has had his palm inspected, his tea leaves pondered over, and his tarot cards read an infinite amount of times by every psychic woman to pass through their doors.  Each one of them says the same thing:

If Luke were to ever kiss his true love, his true love would die.

He hates this prediction, because despite it’s accuracy, there’s still so much he doesn’t know.  Does it have to be a kiss on the lips, or would kissing his true love’s forehead do him in?  How long after the kiss would he die?  What type of death would it be?

The thought of him having a true love, someone who is made for him and perfectly compatible like a fairy tale, fills him with warmth.  The thought of being the cause of his death has resulted in various late nights spent crying in the quiet of his tiny room, trying not to be heard by one of the various women he lives with.

By the time Luke turns sixteen, he decides that he’s not going to fall in love in order to avoid the ordeal altogether.  Around the same time, his mother starts having intense whispered conversations with her two best friends, Persephone and Calla.  The conversations always drift off or quickly change when he enters the room, and eventually he asks Persephone about them.

Persephone is the most likely to tell him, because her predictions often leave her mouth without permission and he knows that she doesn’t like secrets in the house.

“Luke Robert Hemmings,” she says, cupping his face with her palms, frizzy blonde hair looking like a halo in the sunset light, “this is the year you will fall in love.”

-/-

It’s cold in the churchyard.

Every year, the 24th of April feels colder than it should to a small town like Henrietta, Virginia.  No one notices, because no one outside of 300 Fox Way thinks of St. Mark’s Eve as a significant day year after year.  There are no decorations to put up, and no gifts to exchange or parties to throw.  No one gets St. Mark’s day off of school, or marks it on the calendar.

No one except the psychics, that is.

Year after year, Luke and his mom drive to the abandoned, crumbling, nameless church positioned on the corpse road.  Year after year, Liz looks at the spirits of those who will die within the year and asks them their names.  Year after year, Luke writes them down for her and tries in vain to catch a glimpse of what she sees.

He never sees any spirits.  He sometimes sees mist, but only if it rained recently, and he always sees the caved-in roof and moss-covered stones that used to make the frame of the church.  He never hears anything, either.  Even crickets and other nighttime creatures tend to stay quiet on St. Mark’s Eve.

Luke spends the time waiting for the future-dead gazing at the stars, clearly visible this far out of town, and fiddling with his lip ring.  They’ve already been there for what feels like hours, but they always come well before midnight and more often than not stay late.  The dead have no need for punctuality.

At least he remembered his beanie this time.  His mom tried to get him to put on gloves, but Luke hates writing while wearing them, and that’s half the reason he’s here.

“Tonight is the night,” Liz says, voice soft and airy like it sometimes gets when she’s making a prediction.  Luke glances at her, ready to start writing names, but she falls silent, looking at the outline of a gate positioned in the wall steadily but without the urgency that accompanies the spirits.  Every year, they open that gate in order to let the dead walk their path to the church.

The cold settles a bit deeper into Luke’s bones.  He’s come with his mother on St. Mark’s Eve since he was too young to properly write, but it does feel different this time.  He’s not sure why, but there’s a heaviness in the air, an anticipation that he hasn’t felt since he was six years old and being brought to this abandoned church for the first time because Liz said she focuses better with him there.  At six years old, he hadn’t always realized exactly what that meant.

While Luke can’t see spirits or predict the future, every psychic in the house says that they can do that better when he’s there, sometimes going so far as to call him in during difficult readings to give them direction.

“You’re like a lighthouse,” Persephone once said.  “You show us where to go.”

“It’s like turning up the volume when you’re in the room,” Calla added.  “We all hear better with you there.”

“It’s something to be proud of,” Liz always tells him.  “It’s extremely rare to be able to enhance a psychic’s gifts.”

Luke has spent a lot of time sulking over being the only person in the house who isn’t privy to the supernatural, on top of being the only boy.  He’s had sixteen years to come to terms with it, but sometimes it still stings.  It stings less when the women thank him for his help with something important and tangible.

During the day of the year when both time and the spirit world collide with their own, Liz always has Luke with her to pull everything into focus.

“Aglionby boys haven’t been giving you any trouble, have they?” Liz suddenly asks, startling him enough that he drops his pencil and has to root around in the freezing grass for it before hopping back onto his spot on the wall.

“No,” he says, frowning at the mention of the private school full of politicians' sons and trust fund babies located just outside of town.  His mom has drilled into his head that they’re more trouble than they’re worth, and should be avoided like the plague.  Every interaction that he’s had has supported that advice.  “Not more than usual, anyway.  They’ve started getting their convertibles out with the warmer weather, but I only ever see them at work when they haggle for more iced tea.  Why?  Are they going to be giving me trouble?”

Liz hums, then stiffens suddenly.

“They’re coming.”

Luke straightens and keeps his pencil poised.  He follows his mom’s gaze, but just like in previous years all that greets him is the darkness of midnight in the country.  He knows by the way her eyes are fixed now that that isn’t all that Liz sees, though.  The spirits of those who will die in the next twelve months are making their march on the corpse road to the church, and they are there to ask their names.

Every year, the believing citizens of Henrietta ask if they or a loved one will die within the next year.  Every year, for a small fee, Liz will tell them who is on their list.

“Who are you? Robert Neuhmann,” Liz begins, and Luke hastens to write down the names phonetically and as quickly as possible.  “Who are you?  Ruth Vert.  Who are you?  Frances Powell.”

Luke can’t hear anything except Liz’s voice, can’t see anything except her shadowed figure a few feet from him, but the names of the future-dead appear in his notebook nonetheless.

It’s a lot of names that would have been popular decades ago, with familiar last names.  Henrietta is full of old families.  Not many people move to town, but almost no one leaves, either.

“What’s your name?” his mom asks.  Then, a bit louder, “Excuse me, what’s your name?”

Luke glances up, then loses his breath.  Where there should be empty air is instead the vague shape of a person, faded and fuzzy but unmistakably there.  He blinks, but the scene doesn’t change.

“Mom, I can see him,” he says, voice shaking.

The spirit wanders forward, almost stumbling.  Luke always thought that the procession of spirits would be orderly in some way, but this one seems lost, scared.  The more Luke looks, the more he can make out other details.  He’s wearing a sweater and slacks, hair soft and rumpled.  His face is fuzzing and faded, like Luke is trying to look at it through a fogged window, features completely indistinct.  Luke wouldn’t recognize him if he passed him on the street tomorrow, but somehow he feels like he would know him anyway.

He’s unmistakably young, not much older than Luke, if at all.

The spirit picks at his sleeve, in such an alive way that Luke feels vaguely sick.  Then he stumbles forward, as if jostled from behind.

“Get his name,” Liz says frantically.  “He won’t answer me and I need to get the others.”

Luke slides off his spot on the wall, heart hammering in his chest.  He approaches on unsteady feet, then asks “What’s your name?”

The spirit doesn’t seem to hear, moving slowly towards the church door in a zig zag, as if he can’t see the path but feels a pull to it anyway.

He doesn’t seem to know that he’s going to his death.

“Who are you?” he asks, stepping closer.  He won’t step on the corpse road, not tonight when spirits are actively using it, but he needs to be sure that the boy can hear him.  Even this close, his face is indiscernible.  Nothing about him suggests that this is a person, but Luke can feel it.  His mind knows what his eyes can’t figure out.

His eyes catch on the raven insignia on his sweater, and his breath stutters.

That’s the Aglionby symbol.  He’s a high schooler, just like Luke, and he’ll be dead within the year.

The boy continues forward, and Luke follows, repeating his questions.  The closer he gets, the colder he feels.  Logically, he knows that it’s the spirits drawing on his energy, but it feels like dread, and it feels like death.

The boy approaches the entrance to the church, and Luke knows that he’ll be gone if he passes through that doorway.  Impulsively, he reaches out a hand and touches the boy’s sweater.  His fingers go numb from the cold immediately, but the boy stops, and for the first time seems like he might notice Luke next to him.

“Please,” Luke says, softer.  “Will you tell me your name?”

��Ashton,” he says.  His voice is quiet, but not because he’s whispering.  It sounds like his voice is coming from far away, tinny like it’s been passed through a radio.  The top of his sweater is wet from a rain that hasn’t happened yet, and Luke can’t stop looking at where his face should be.

Of all the times Luke imagined what it would be like to see the dead, he never anticipated that it would feel like this.  Cold, maybe.  A bit lonely, perhaps.  But not like he’s looking at a grave only to find it staring back and asking why it couldn’t be saved.

“Is that all?” he whispers.

“Ashton Irwin,” the spirit says.  He closes his eyes.  Luke doesn’t know how he knows this, since he can’t see any facial features, but he knows.  “That’s all there is.”

Ashton falls to his knees, hands braced against the dirt.  The black of the church seems to swallow him up, and Luke feels a lump in his throat.

“Mom he’s--he’s dying.”

“Not yet,” Liz says.  Sometime during his talk with the spirit, she finished writing the rest of the names and moved to stand behind him.  She puts an arm around his shoulders, and Luke leans into her, resisting hiding himself because he feels like he has to see Ashton off at least.  He fades into the church, or maybe the church fades into him.  Luke watches until there are no traces of him left.

“Why could I see him?” he asks into the quiet.  It feels loud in the night.  Warmth starts to return to his skin, and in the edge of his hearing he registers the distant sound of an owl and a few crickets.

The spirits have passed on, but Luke feels stuck.  His lungs are unfreezing, but the cold is replaced by an empty feeling.  Grief, or perhaps regret.

“There are only two reasons a non-seer would see a spirit on St. Mark’s Eve,” his mom says carefully.  “Either you’re his true love, or you killed him.”

[diminished-fish]

References for “A Portrait in Synesthesia”

This fic is COMPLETE now, so anyone who might have been hesitant to follow a wip, here you go! The whole synesthetic package, wrapped up with a nice lil bow on top. :3

For those who might have missed the masterpost: the fic was my contribution to the good omens big bang and is a sweeping, canon-compliant romp through history, told in (almost) all original scenes, with lots of nature imagery and T.S. Eliot. Kind of my own cold open, but with way more feelings and flowers. Also the sea. And an emotionally significant comet.

I had the opportunity to throw all of myself at this project and really enjoyed making it an intense focus for a while. In a way, it was an experiment to see how much I was capable of, which as it turns out, is more than I thought! (there’s a lesson here, probably...). Going this deep with the research and worldbuilding is not something I will likely be doing often for fic writing, but since I did with this one, I figured I’d share a bit of the process.

Under the cut are major spoilers for the timeline, story, and historic events in my recent fic, A Portrait in Synesthesia. I had originally planned to post this information in the end notes of the fic, but at some point, the list got way too long and posting it here became the sensible choice. There is a link to this post in the end notes of the fic, so it will be easy to find your way back here if you get to the end and want to know a bit more about the writing and research process. 

The Title:

Putting this bit at the top because I don’t know where else to put it: The working title for this fic throughout the entire writing process was “In Synesthesia.” I almost changed the final title in the eleventh hour to “The Still Point of the Turning World” because of what a prevalent theme Eliot became (that line was also slipped into the story three times at important moments — once for each POV character). I also briefly considered “Always, We Were Enough” as a title, since the conversation with Adrielle at the lighthouse kind of... accidentally became the thesis of the whole story, but that was a bit too sappy even for me, a Confirmed Sap. 

And while I’ll be questioning my choice of title for the rest of forever (titling things is hard, y’all), I ultimately thought the more descriptive title was best, and wanted to keep the nod to the song that inspired it all.

Speaking of the song... have you listened to it yet?? It’s great, I promise!

Synesthesia:

This was my research starting point. Before I dug into any of the historical or astronomical research or even started any serious plotting, I started reading about synesthesia, or, as Psychology Today defines it: the neurological condition in which the stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway (for example, hearing) leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway (such as vision).

Full disclosure: I do not have synesthesia. I spent a LOT of time researching it for this fic and did my best to portray it accurately, in spite of the fantastical elements I added. If I’ve overstepped or gotten something wrong and there are any synesthetes out there who would like to talk about it, I am very open to those discussions. The AO3 comments are always open to that, or you can message me/send me an ask here if you would like a less public forum.

I probably read r/Synesthesia in its entirety, but this thread of first-hand accounts was one of the most interesting to me and provided a lot of the inspiration for how I used the emotional synesthesia imagery. 

Besides everyone’s favorite research staring point of Wikipedia, this link is one I got from Boston University’s Synesthesia Project, and it is a pretty exhaustive list of research and books, as well as art and poetry about synesthesia. I have also been working my way through The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales, by Oliver Sacks which is the book that came most frequently recommended to me in my search. It’s an extremely approachable and interesting look at neurological conditions, synesthesia among them.

As it appears in the fic:

In a broad, generalized sense, Aziraphale and Crowley have a few types of synesthesia in this story. Obviously, I gave it a supernatural/celestial twist and a healthy glug of magical realism, but I did try to keep it firmly rooted in the actual condition. The types of synesthesia they have are:

Chromesthesia: they both have this. Sounds, specifically each other’s voices, have a color association

Lexical-gustatory synesthesia/emotion-flavor synesthesia: Aziraphale has this. Words (in this case, emotions, specifically Crowley’s emotional state) have a taste.

Odor-color synesthesia/emotion-odor synesthesia: Crowley has this. Words (again, emotions, specifically Aziraphale’s emotional state) have a smell.

One of the defining characteristics of synesthesia is that it is constant. If a synesthete connects the number 9 with the color blue, for example, then they will always connect them in this way. This was the major difference between real synesthesia and the fantasy synesthesia in this fic. The sensory/emotion connections for Aziraphale and Crowley changed in subtle ways as their relationship evolved through the ages.

The “binding thread” also had nothing to do with synesthesia. That was me wanting to make the spool analogy work for the body swap, baking it into the entire fic because I liked how the imagery fit with the synesthesia, and then leaning into the magic and the soul memory so hard that I fell flat on my face into magical realism. (A True Fact: I have spent a fair amount of time lying on the floor in the past 6 months, shaking my fist at the cute little plot bunny who grew fangs and claws and dragged me down a rabbit hole that ended up being 100k words deep). 

Anyway! Research!

Before I get into space and history and flowers... Yes, I admit to absolutely making up some wacky shit about Europa for the sake of fun banter and making a metaphor work. All those pre-Fall scenes on abandoned Earths are 100% a fantasy setting and I exercised the super fun right of a fantasy writer and embraced the worldbuilding (moonbuilding?). I also just thought Crowley would have delighted in tying a moon’s guts in knots, and Aziraphale would have delighted in the idea of whimsy-for-whimsy’s-sake. Please don’t lose sleep over the scientific inaccuracies.

Halley’s comet:

I promise not to bog this down with a billion comet facts, but there were a few particular things about Halley’s comet that had me gasping dramatically about how it’s “A.J. Crowley, but a comet!!” Specifically, it’s orbit and it’s structure. 

Halley’s retrograde orbit gives it one of the fastest velocities (relative to Earth) of any object in the solar system. I never explicitly worked the “you go too fast for me” line into the fic because I was trying to do original scenes (this particular story lived between the lines), but... just know that tidbit is there and join me in these emotional dire straits. If you like.

The comet’s structure is what is known as a “rubble pile”, meaning it’s made up of a bunch of smaller rocks held together by gravity (read: a hot god damn mess held together by stubbornness). 

As it appears in the fic:

The nucleus of Halley’s comet is shaped like a weird lopsided peanut. In fact, one could almost look at it and say it resembles a contact binary star, if such a thing could be a shriveled, misshapen pile of rubble.

Officially, Halley’s comet might have been recorded as early as 467 BC (a comet was recorded in Greece that year— unclear if it was Halley’s, but the timing and the fact that it was visible to the naked eye suggests that it probably was). This was the year I had Aziraphale making the scroll that causes Crowley’s panic in Athens (390 BC). I like to think that some human, at some point, caught a glimpse of it and tried to bring it to light, only to be written off as a crazed conspiracy theorist.

The apocalyptic depiction of Halley’s comet in chapter 9 (Bithynia) is actually based in fact. The comet made its closest approach to Earth (in human memory) in 837 AD, passing within 5 million kilometers. Its tail stretched halfway across the sky and it appeared as bright as Venus to the naked eye.

1910 Halley’s Comet panic. Bonus: c o m e t  p i l l s

Where 1910′s appearance was a spectacular sight and one of the closest approaches on record (coming within 22 million kilometers of Earth), 1986′s was the worst viewing conditions in 2,000 years. The comet passed within 63 million kilometers at its closest approach, and had the sun positioned between it and Earth, making it impossible to see from areas with any amount of light pollution, and almost invisible to all of the northern hemisphere. 

Historic events and settings:

Chapter 6 (Ostia): This was one of the chapters that I did a bunch of arguably unnecessary research for, since the history and the meat of the setting faded into the backdrop as the scene itself focused on dialogue and train of thought. The port town of Ostia was incredibly engrossing to read about, and between wikipedia’s ever-branching paths, ostia-antica.org, and ancient history encyclopedia’s entry, it ended up being one of the deeper rabbit holes I went down. My original intent for Aziraphale being in town was as a response to pirates sacking Ostia in 68 BC. I had him stationed there to guard against further attacks as the town rebuilt, and had him lingering because he was swept away by the romanticism of the art and the sea and the constant ebb & flow of people. I never found a way to work this in that didn’t feel super awkward and expository since the chapter was Crowley POV, so it was just left it as background noise.

Chapter 6 (pyramid of Cestius): Beyond being a magistrate of one of the four great religious corporations in ancient Rome (the Septemviri Epulonum), little is known about who Gaius Cestius actually was. As the city expanded, his lavish tomb was absorbed into the city walls (circa 3rd century AD), where it remains what he is remembered for to this day. I took most of my information from here (cross referenced with our lord and savior, Wikipedia) and had a chuckle at this poem by Thomas Hardy.

Chapter 8 (Plague of Justinian): The Yersinia pestis bacterium leaves no indicator on skeletal remains, meaning we rely on written records to track its path through history. The 6th century plague pandemic is the first recorded outbreak of bubonic plague, and for the purpose of our story, a certain distraught chronicler was the one on site, writing that history.

A note/cw: I wrote chapters 8 and 12 in October and November, respectively, and did much of my research for them over the summer. I imagine, given the current covid-19 pandemic, these sources would be less fun to follow up on now. Please be aware that the podcast episodes linked here, and the book cited in the miscellaneous refs section, get into pretty grisly details about illness and pandemics.

Chapters 8 and 12 (bubonic plague/The Black Death): I took a fair amount of my notes on bubonic/pnuemonic plague, specifically it’s path of destruction through Europe in the 14th century, from the two plague episodes of This Podcast Will Kill You. It’s pretty fascinating stuff and the Erins are great hosts, so check it out if you’re into delightful nerds bantering about epidemiology! 

Chapter 9 (the death of Peter of Atroa): Peter of Atroa was an abbot whose fame as a miracle-worker landed him in a scandal accusing him of exorcising demons by the power of Beelzebub, rather than God. Theodore the Studite’s letter cleared his name enough to avoid execution, but his reputation didn’t fully recover until after his death in 837 AD, when he was canonized as a saint. Peter and Theodore were tough to find extensive information on without passing through a paywall, so I took these scraps and ran a mile with them.

Chapter 13 (Tlatelolco, the Aztec Empire, the Feast of the Dead): I used this site as the source and starting point on much of my research on the Aztec Empire. And listen… I know it looks like a website for babies, and yes, I’m aware that a lot of the articles are literally written for a pre-teen audience, but it’s also one of the most concise, thorough, well-researched, and — perhaps most importantly — easily-searchable sources I found. Most of the pages cite papers and archaeological journals and I was able to jump to SO many other great sources of information. Mexicolore has my undying love and devotion for making my research process easy and fun and also having lots of pretty pictures.

Most of the physical descriptions for Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco (surrounding landscape, canals and causeways, chinampas, etc.) started here.

Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco were independent cities, but shared a border (kind of like a city and a suburb) and the small island on Lake Texcoco (located where present day Mexico City is). Tenochtitlan was the capital city of the Aztec Empire, and besides cross-referencing Mexicorlore, the link in the previous bullet point, and Wikipedia, I got a fair bit of information from these essays. 

Tlatelolco’s market was the major hub of trade and commerce, and saw 20-40,000 people trading PER DAY. Research on the market started here.

Chapter 14 (Terschelling and the Brandaris lighthouse): While I strove for historical accuracy as much as possible in this fic, I did take some liberties— especially with the island of Terschelling and the Brandaris lighthouse (yes, it’s real!) circa 1350-1435. 

The village of Brandarius is based on present day West Terschelling— a settlement founded as a direct result of the lighthouse. In the middle ages, both the village and the lighthouse were named after Saint Brandarius (or Brendan of Clonfert: ‘The Navigator’, ‘The Voyager’, ‘The Anchorite’, ‘The Bold’; patron saint of divers, mariners, and travellers). It’s still a relatively small village today, and it was a surprisingly difficult task to find historical records for Brandarius/West Terschelling dating back to the 14th century that say much beyond “it existed.” I loosely based the village off information found here, and named it “Brandarius” instead of “West Terschelling” based on the information found here. 

The original lighthouse was built in 1323, destroyed by the sea in 1570, and rebuilt in 1594. Since there were no records (that I could find) of what the original lighthouse looked like, I loosely based the height and floor plan on the current tower, and made up everything everything else about the interior. The interior was based on information about other live-in lighthouses, specifically this one which is roughly the same height as the Brandaris.

The present day Brandaris lighthouse sits directly in the middle of West Terschelling. For the sake of that sweet Self-Imposed Exile + Cryptid Lighthouse Keeper drama, I took the liberty of making my fictional village of Brandarius teeny tiny and setting it slightly apart from the lighthouse. 

Miscellaneous references:

In addition to the podcast, details about plague in chapters 8 and 12 were gleaned from the book The Great Mortality by John Kelly. It’s a cool read if you’re into nonfiction that reads like fiction, but does have some rather graphic passages so proceed with caution.

Yaretzi’s maquizcóatl/Aziraphale’s memento. To clarify, they were NOT the same item. I pictured Aziraphale cherishing the memory of the day by the lake with Yaretzi so much, that once he acquired the bookshop and had a place for all his kitsch, he hunted down a bad luck dragon of his own.

Here is the Aztec creation story about sun cycles and Earth’s rebirths that Yaretzi told Aziraphale. Another version of it.

In the scene in Mexico where Aziraphale briefly remembers, I used an analogy about a moment that hovers and flits away as “quick as a hummingbird.” Besides just liking the words, this was a nod to the legend of the cempasuchil flower. I originally had Yaretzi telling Aziraphale that story too, but the chapter was just way too long and something had to go.

In my very first outline, I had Aziraphale’s grief and personal growth chapter taking place at a Día de Muertos festival in Mexico. When the plot and the timeline finally got ironed out and I realized only half of that story was going to take place on Earth, I ended up focusing on Aziraphale’s brief relationship with Yaretzi instead of the festival itself (she was always the important bit). I also found myself married to the idea of that chapter happening in the 14th and 15th centuries, which meant the scenes in Mexico take place before Spain invaded and the festival was based solely on its Aztec roots. Because the plot shifted in this way, a lot of research went on behind the scenes that never made it into the fic, but for anyone interested in the Aztec Feast of the Dead, Mexicolore was my starting place again. From there, I found my way to reading about Mictecacíhuatl, the Aztec goddess of death, who was the main focus of the festival.

This isn’t research, but it might interest, like… three of you, so here you go. The scenes in Heaven (Aziraphale’s solo chapter in general tbh) were hard to write. One of those walls you hit with writing where you kick and punch and bang your head against it for months (literal months, I started wrestling with it in August and it didn’t come together until the end of January) but can’t seem to make any breakthroughs. Inspiration truly comes from unexpected places though, and when @gottagobuycheese sent me this Gregorian chant generator it actually… worked? I cranked that hum slider up to 100 and left it there for a few days (to the chagrin of my spouse) and lo— Zophiel.

There’s a cool legend about Saint Brendan of Clonfert’s sea-faring journey in search of the Garden of Eden that has nothing to do with this fic beyond being neat parallel. If that happens to be anyone’s cup of tea, the story is here. The tl;dr version is here. My original vision for the lighthouse included carved whales (St Brendan’s attribute) over the front door, and images from this story (the island of sheep, the Christmas island, the paradise island of birds) drawn on the walls of one of the bedrooms used by previous keepers’ children. Continuing the theme of “how stories echo” if you will. It felt really awkward and out of place once I wrote it in though, and that chapter was already so long once I got through all the plot bits I wanted, so it was left on the cutting room floor. 

Speaking of taking liberties with the 14th century, I did fudge the timing a bit on the art created by Crowley and Adrielle. Drawings, especially pencil sketches, have their historical roots in the late 15th century, and I’m chalking this one up to the fantastical setting of the Good Omens universe. In a fantasy world where angels and demons walk among us and the earth is literally 6,000 years old, I feel like inventing pencils 100 years early is small potatoes. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

This is the edition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream that Crowley nicked in Norwich. There are some really wonderful illustrations and scans of full pages under that link. I may or may not have lost a few hours down that research rabbit hole for a few throwaway lines (no regrets, I fall like Crowley). 

One last rabbit hole...

I saved this bit for the end of the post since it’s not really research and I don’t know how interested people will be in this kind of thing. Also... this is a lot more emotional and personal than the historical aspects of the fic. This is just what I was feeling and thinking while I was writing, and this story is absolutely the kind of thing I expect everyone to take something different away from. If you read the fic, took your own meaning from it, and want to keep that meaning without me tarnishing it by babbling about symbolism (first of all, high five, I love you, thank you for hanging out with me and my stories), then feel free to skip the rest of this post. <3

But! For anyone who wants to know more about what I had in mind with the flowers and nature metaphors I worked into the story, read on!

The tag “it’s an OT3 where Earth is the third” is something I really worked to pull to center stage. In my mind, Earth was a fully formed character who also spent the pre-Fall storyline being jerked around by God and having its memory wiped. It experienced transformations, pain, heartbreak, joy, and love just like Aziraphale and Crowley did, and I wrote it as falling in love with the two of them over the course of the Earth Project, then remaining very much in love for the entirety of iteration 23 (the current iteration). “Memories that are buried in places deeper than the mind” referred to the soul imprints being formed, but also Earth’s buried memories— seeping through the cracks to connect them via synesthesia in emotionally charged moments, allowing them to find each other from orbit in iterations 20 and 21 (music and the sea), and pulling them together in moments of distress like Constantinople and Barcelona.

In the vein of “Earth as a character,” I used plants (mainly flowers), topography, and weather as Earth’s “voice” in the grief chapters when Crowley and Aziraphale were separated from each other and going through their individual arcs. I’m not sure it technically counts as flower language, since all the flowers featured in the fic were wild and growing in nature, but (almost) all of them served a metaphorical purpose.

Flowers:

Jasmine (for the moon): Aziraphale’s flower. Love, beauty, sensuality, good luck, purity. The rational hedonist.

Marigolds (for the sun): Crowley’s flower. Grief and remembrance of the dead, lost love, the fragility of life, creativity, winning the affections of someone through hard work. The fallen artist.

Purple Hyacinth: Earth’s flower. Regret, sorrow, a desire for forgiveness. The witness. These were the wildflowers that grew in the orchard/vineyard on the penultimate Earth, where Aziraphale and Crowley managed to work out the differences they couldn’t by the sea. Hyacinths are also the hazy images they would see in those moments of vulnerability, compassion, and compromise. 

A fun aside! In very early drafts, the placeholder name I was using for angel Crowley was Jacinto, which is a Spanish/Portuguese name meaning “Hyacinth.” It was meant to be a reference to both the flower and the Greek myth of Apollo and Hyacinth, but my brain absolutely could not disconnect it from Manny Jacinto (and kept insisting on imagining Crowley calling Aziraphale homie and calling everything dope). Eventually I leaned into the Latin and landed on Joriel, then attached my banner to the Achilles and Patroclus myth instead of Apollo and Hyacinth, but the name Jacinto still makes me think of starmakers.

Honeysuckle & morning glory, climbing the oak tree: Aziraphale + Crowley + Earth. Seen in chapter 10, when Aziraphale and Crowley shake hands on the Arrangement. Two plants whose vines grow in opposing spirals. In nature, they have a symbiotic relationship, twining around each other in order to climb trees, walls, and fences, allowing both of them to grow higher than they could alone. 

Or: local woman sees this tweet, hasn’t known peace since.

The deasilwise / widdershins (clockwise / anticlockwise) thing got sprinkled throughout the story, with deasilwise being the “angel direction” and widdershins being the “demon direction.” Halley’s comet, with its backwards orbit, orbits the sun deasilwise, even after Crowley becomes widdershins.

Amaranth: Immortality, unfading affection, finding beauty in inaccessible places. 

The garden in the dunes and Petya’s travelling garden:

Where Aziraphale took a methodical, Kubler-Ross approach to dealing with loss, Crowley’s process was meandering and chaotic. The garden in the dunes was where it all came to a head— his way of throwing all of his emotions on the ground like a big jumbled pile of pick-up sticks, then slowly sorting through them and putting himself back together. There was a whole lot of Earth/flower speech going on in those scenes.

With the exception of zinnias, the garden was made up of perennials or self-sowing flowers. This happened “off-screen” as I could never find a decent way to work it in, but... the zinnias which Crowley bullied into being perennials returned to being annuals and died off after he left Terschelling and sometimes I still cry in the shower about it. 

Zinnias: Adrielle’s flower. Endurance, lasting friendship (especially friendships lasting through absence), goodness, daily remembrance. This one is also a small self-indulgence on my part since Adrielle was something of a self-insert. My mother loves zinnias and, growing up, our house was absolutely surrounded by them in the summer. Anywhere there was a free patch of dirt, Mom planted zinnias. They’re a scrappy, weird looking flower that doesn’t have a smell and a lot of people find rather ugly... and I love them with my entire heart. There is no flower on this earth that fills me with more whimsy, nostalgia, or childlike contentment. Also butterflies love them.

Chamomile: Patience. Fresh chamomile flowers are very aromatic and smell like apples.

Daisies: Transformation. Also simplicity, loyalty, and new beginnings.

Poppies: Restful sleep or recovery, peace in death, remembrance.

Tulips: Each tulip color has its own meaning, but the most common thing they symbolize is deep love. That said, I mainly chose this one for their prevalence in the Netherlands, as well as being very colorful perennials.

Pansies: The love or admiration that one person holds for another, free thinking, remembrance.

Lily of the valley: Rebirth, the return of happiness. They also have a very strong, very sweet smell and can grow in cool climates. These were the main reasons I chose it, rather than any of the religious connotations.

Lavender: Silence, devotion, serenity, grace.

Orchids: There’s... actually no deep symbolism with this one. Nothing intended anyway. Orchids, lavender, and cranberries are the dominant native plants on the island of Terschelling. I thought they’d be pretty in the dunes.

I am also a music-must-be-playing-at-all-times kind of person and I came out the other end of this project with FIFTEEN (15) playlists. Some of them are all instrumental playlists that I used to set the mood while I wrote certain scenes/segments, others are lyrical and tell a story or helped me sort out the story, some chapters got entire playlists all to themselves (looking at you, 14th century). The main playlists are linked in the notes on AO3, but I may collect them all in a tumblr post at some point if there’s an interest.

This entire project was an enormous labor of love that took up pretty much all of my free time for six months. So, if you read this far... thank you for coming on such a long journey with me!! Truly, deeply, and from every corner of my heart, thank you for reading. <3

[cassnottiel]

hiya!! i don't know if you're still taking story prompts and if not you could totally ignore this!! but maybe a agents of shield story where deke is pansexual but sort of doesn't realize homophobia is a thing? like, so much shit is in the future of all the problems they had that isn't one. and he's so casual about it but then someone is an asshole about it and he's like wtf?

Deke Shaw never really put thought into what kind of person he would want to be with, he was usually too busy trying not to die to think about romance.  He had a thing with Tess, but then a bunch of people came from the past and messed up his life and he didn't get to talk to her at all.  He also had a thing with Virgil at one point, but then he died. 

So now Deke was in the past, and his life wasn't constantly in danger.  He could breathe fresh air and figure out how to live a normal life.

Deke traveled the world and loved every second of it.  The amount of disposable cameras he now owns is approaching double digits.  The film's are filled with pictures of beautiful scenery he's explored and people he's met. 

"Can I get a picture?"  Deke whispered one morning, a sleepy smile on his face as he reached for his backpack.

Jerome, Dekes companion from the night before and a fellow traveler, looked away from the sunrise out the window and smiled back at him.  "You're an odd man, you know?"

"Is that a yes?"  Deke sat up and the sheets fell down to his waist.  He raised the camera with a wider smile.

Jerome laughed softly and looked back out the window, "get my good side."

Deke beamed and snapped a photo.  He looked down at the camera for a second, and when he looked up Jerome was crawling back onto the bed.  Deke snapped another photo and they both laughed.  Jerome placed his hand on Dekes and lowered the camera as he leaned over for a kiss.

Deke dropped the camera to put his hands on the back of Jerome's neck and pull him closer.  There was another click and Deke pulled away to see the camera in Jerome's hand and pointed toward the two of them.  They both laughed again before tossing the camera aside and diving back into each other.

- - -

"So, where are you off to after this?"  Deke asked as they ate breakfast together.  Southern France was beautiful, the sun shining down on them on the patio.

"The Netherlands," Jerome sipped his coffee and sat back in his chair, "and then Italy, and then back home to the States.  You?"

Deke wiped his face with a napkin.  "This is my last stop in Europe.  I'm going to Dubai, then working my way east to Indonesia to see the stingrays."

Jermone raised an eyebrow and took another bite of his omelette.  "Stingrays, nice."  He fished a pen out of his pocket and took out a clean napkin, then started writing.  "Send me some of those pictures when you get them printed, will you?"

Deke smiled and read the phone number.  He folded the napkin and put it in his pocket.  "Sure thing.  Have fun in the Netherlands."

"Have fun with your stingrays."  They shared another smile.

Deke got one last picture of Jerome on the camera before they parted ways in an airport.

The rest of his travels were amazing.  There were way fewer mugging attempts than he thought would occur, and the stingrays were even more beautiful than he expected.

When Dekes plane landed back near Lake Ontario, he had so many souvenirs and cameras, he had to buy another bag in Japan to put them all in.

Walking into the Lighthouse with his two bags was bittersweet.  The world didn't end, Deke had spent weeks exploring the world and learning all the things he should have as a child.  But now we was walking into the place he grew up in, the place his mother was murdered, the apocalypse bunker before the apocalypse.

A few things had been cleaned out of his bunk; most of the books and food were gone, the things that were left were in organized stacks.  A note was left on top of the one box of Twinkies: clean your room.  -may.  Deke smiled as he read it and started unpacking. 

All his souvenirs were lined up neatly on one of the tables and his clothes were packed away in a dresser, so now he had a bunch of disposable cameras with no idea how he got the pictures.

"Hey, Deke," Daisy smiled with the greeting.  "How's the world?"

Deke lit up.  "It's amazing!  I love it here, it's so great."  He gestured wildly with his hands, and Daisy saw the camera in his hand.

"And you got pictures?  Awesome."  She started walking and he followed. 

"How do I get the pictures out?"  Deke asked, still confused by the cameras after weeks. 

Daisy blinked a few times, then shook her head.  "You have to get them developed in a shop.  I bet there's one up in the town, we can go out looking tomorro-oof-" she caught an armful of a thankful Deke.

River's End is a nice small town, everyone knew everyone else.  Deke loved it.  He never got to explore the town for fun, the first time he was drunk and the second time he was on a mission, so they didn't count.

"Alright," Daisy said when they stopped outside a drug store, "just go in with your cameras and ask if they can develop them.  There's a lot of them, so you'll probably get them in a week.  Pay in cash and meet me in the grocery store when you're done."

"I know how to take care of myself, Daisy."  Deke rolled his eyes and pushed the door open.  "I'll see you soon."

A bell sounded when the door closed and Deke happily walked up to the counter.

"Good morning, sir."  The old man at the counter smiled kindly.  "How can I help you?"

"I have some cameras, and I was wondering if you can develop the pictures on them?"  Deke said the words Daisy had him practice to the nice man.

The man, a Mr. Hansen, nodded.  "Yeah, we develop photos here.  How many?"

Deke lifted the bag of cameras, twenty two in total.  "A lot.  I'm sorry if it's too many."

"Not at all," Mr. Hansen smiled again, "it'll just take a little longer.  Fill out a paper and I can call you when they're done."

- - -

"People in this town are so nice."  Deke sidled up next to Daisy and started pushing the cart with her.

Daisy scoffed and stood back to look back at the grocery list.  "Small towns are always nice.  Until they find a stupid reason to hate you."

"What?"  Deke glanced back as they kept walking. 

"Small towns suck."  Daisy said blankly.  "People think they're just small communities where everyone knows and loves each other.  But really, everything is gossip and whoever doesn't fit the straight, white narrative is basically exiled."  She picked something off the shelf and placed it in the cart.  "That's everything."

Deke followed her to the checkout counters, mulling over her words.  He didn't know what a 'straight, white narrative' was, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.  Daisy's description of a small town reminded him of the Lighthouse; whoever the Kree didn't like, they either killed or exiled.  He was less excited about the quaint town of River's End.  He thought about Daisy's words for days, too afraid to ask what they meant.

After about a month, he still hadn't gotten a call about his pictures.  He didn't know how fast he was supposed to get them, but he was pretty sure it was faster than it was.

"How long does it usually take to develop pictures from a disposable camera?"  Deke asked as he spun around in a chair in the room with the big computers. 

"Like, a week.  Why?"  Daisy didn't look up from the keyboard.  "Didn't you get yours already?  I know there were a lot of them, but you should have them by now."

"No, I don't have them.  Is that weird?"  Deke stopped spinning.

"Probably," Fitz rolled his own chair over and took over a separate keyboard.  "Why would someone keep your pictures from you?"

Deke sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.  "I don't know, and someone asked me to send them some.  Oh, God, he's gonna think I'm ignoring him!"

"Who?"  Daisy finlay looked up from her screen to help.

"Jerome," Deke clarified, "we met in France and I got a few pictures with him.  We really hit it off."

Fitz and Daisy shared a look and nobody said anything for a little bit. 

"What?"  Deke asked.

"Okay."  Daisy pushed her chair back, giving her full attention to the conversation.  "If I'm reading this right, you slept with this dude.  Correct?"

Deke felt a blush creep up his face and glanced at Fitz.  "Not in front of Bobo, dude."  Fitz smacked the back of his head.

It was Daisy's turn to scrub a hand down her face.  "Remember when I told you small towns suck?  And the whole straight, white narrative thing?"  When Deke nodded, she continued.  "I'm guessing the guy you gave the cameras to is homophobic and he doesn't want to print pictures of you two."

Fitz nodded along.  "That makes sense."  He looked at Deke and clapped him on the shoulder.  "I'm really sorry about this."

Deke gave them both looks of utter confusion.  "What the hell is homophobia?" 

"They . . . they had gay rights in the fascist future?"  Daisy asked quietly after another stretch of silence.  Fitz held back a laugh.

"It's when someone hates you for liking someone who's the same gender as you."  Fitz said after he composed himself.  "It's stupid and you should ignore anyone who treats you bad because of it."

"Or you can slash their tires." Daisy turned back to her keyboard. "Hate-crime them before they can hate-crime you first."

"Daisy!" Fitz snapped before addressing Deke again. "We'll go get your pictures tomorrow and find a new place to print them."

Deke nodded and looked over Daisy's shoulder at her screen. He leaned forward and whispered, "how do you slash someone's tires?"

"Don't answer that!"

[imagine-x-loki-x-aquaman]

Request by: Anonymous

Original Request: Can I request an aquaman one shot? Imagine aquaman scaring the (human) reader when he is angry

Pairing: Arthur Curry x Reader

Word Count: 1,065

Warnings: None

A/N: I hope you enjoy this oneshot, nonnie. I am so sorry it took so long to write. Happy reading!

The Icelandic sky was the colour of blooming hibiscus, a bright red that turned to a deep purple and gradually black as a soft yet chilling breeze tickled my face. I buried my hands deep in my pockets to keep from the cold. A sudden noise of the sharp laughter of women made my heart race as I walked by them and they began to eye me warily. Did they suspect who I was? I thought to myself, Would one of them speak to Arthur that I had been roaming around these parts of town?

I walked as quickly as the steep incline would allow, being careful not to fall from the icy roads.

Moments of walking silently passed as bands of drunken men lumbered up the road from pubs, singing and upon noticing me, they invite me to drink with them. “Come here, my sweet. Let me teach you a few things about us northmen.” But I had seen enough leering drunks with Arthur’s entourage to know that I must simply avoid their gazes. Swiftly, I made my way around the group of men but one of them reached to grab me and I had been to slow to react.

“Let go of me!” I shout, trying to yank my hand away.

“What’s the matter, sweet?” The man taunted as his friends began to laugh.

The drunken man grabbed me by my throat to keep me in place and pushed his chapped lips roughly against mine. I kick at his shin but he was much too strong as he wrestled me to the ground. I gasp at his strength and he proceeds to seize my wrist and drag me towards a copse of trees. As he pins my wrists down, his heavy stomach pushed against my body and I could feel his lust underneath his pants. Before he could undress me, I lashed out as my nails scarred his cheek and he hissed in pain.

“You harlot,” he cursed, lifting his hand and slapping me across the face as a tall silhouette loomed behind him. All of the sudden, a strong hand lifted the man to his feet and easily threw him across the air. I did not wait to see who my saviour had been as I sprung to my feet and broke into a run. My heart thundered against my ribcage and its sounds grew from faint echoes to loud hammerings.

When I was about to reach the pedestrian roads, a hand quickly grabbed my arm and I turn to see that it had been Arthur. His eyes that usually gleamed with charm and joy, were shadowed by anger and his face was red with suppressed rage. Arthur yanked me even closer to himself and whilst staring into my eyes, asks, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Frightened of his rage, I look away from his stormy eyes and as he squeezes my upper arms, Arthur shakes me with both his hands. “What are you doing in this part of town?” He shouts.

“I-I’m - ”

“Think carefully before you lie to me, (Y/N).” He growled as the anger grew in his voice. When I did not speak, he took me by the arm and wrenched me away from the busy roads.

“Arthur, stop!” I cried. “You’re hurting me!” He stopped walking and snapped his gaze to my own and though his eyes seemed to soften a bit, his face still flashed with blinded anger like a bright fire. He stepped closer and his face was so close to mine that I could clearly notice the muscles of his jaw clenching.

“You were prepared to risk worse.” He made a point of studying the rip of my jacket and my disheveled hair. Arthur tugged at my arm and we continued walking down the path I had been running away from. “Where are you taking me?” I questioned, ashamed that my voice was trembling.

“To the lighthouse.”

“Did you kill the man?” I ask, trying to keep up with his angry pace.

“No.” Arthur replied tersely. “I punched him hard enough to knock him out. Did you think I’d let him go so easily after what he was attempting to do to you?”

I did not reply as we kept walking and his relentless grip on my arm was beginning to hurt. I had never seen him unleash his anger in such a manner and especially towards me as he always seemed so composed about anything that happened. My stomach begin to lurch and my heart ached at Arthur’s frightful behaviour. And so, fresh tears stood at my cheeks as I try to pull my hand away from Arthur’s strong grip. 

He released my arm as I staggered backward and upon seeing my distressed features, Arthur’s softened eyes widen. He stepped closer to me but I moved away and I could see the hurt expression rooted deep in his eyes.

“Y-you’re frightening me...” I whispered as I rub my arm with my hand. Despite the words I spoke, I only hoped that my face did not show any speck of fear because I knew Arthur would begin to blame himself even though he meant only to look after me.

“(Y/N), I never meant to hurt you.” Arthur mumbled gently as if the cold wind that had been blowing had suddenly swept his anger away. “That man could’ve hurt you, taken advantage of you. I cannot allow that to happen, knowing that I am completely capable of looking out for you.”

“I know, Arthur.” I reply. “I know you worry of me and my well-being.”

Reluctantly, he stepped forward and this time, I did not move away. He took my hand in his calloused ones and intertwined them whilst his other brushed away my tears. “I would be miserable and would never forgive myself if something did happen to you. I love you too much, mama.”

I turned away as he would not see me blush at his nickname but he had already noticed my reddened cheeks as he proceeded to chuckle. Arthur cupped my chin with his fingers and tenderly kissed my forehead with his soft, warm lips. He wrapped me in his arms and I closed my eyes.

“I love you too.” I say, burying my face in his chest and breathing in his soothing scent of the ocean.

[ayatosama]

when it rains, it pours

characters: hinami fueguchi, touka kirishima, ayato kirishima

word count: 5087

notes: hinami’s grief over the death of her mother manifests into a fear of rain. she struggles to overcome it; first alone, then with touka, and finally with ayato

notes 2: this is my contribution to the @tokyoghoulreversebang this fic wouldn’t have happened without the lovely art of @bringhaiseback and also a huge thanks to my wonderful beta readers for making sure this fic was the best it could possibly be @haisse-sasaki & @igottiredofmyoldusername

i. Death.

One word and yet so many emotions locked in between its letters.

Hinami was curled in a bundle of blankets, a book in her hand, and a hole in her heart. Touka was out for the day, leaving her alone in the small apartment they now shared after... after… after her death.

Hinami tried to occupy her mind with everything and anything. She really was making progress to overcome the trauma that buried itself in the cracks of her ribs. But some days that trauma grew so heavy it was hard to breathe. Especially on days like today.

Days when it rained.

The pitter patter against the windows was so heavy Hinami thought the rain would crash through the window and take her away, take her to where her mother was. No. No. No she won’t let this get to her. She picks the book up and forces her mind to focus on the words in front of her eyes.

The book was giving her no sense of relief. Distraction. Movement. She untangles herself from the cocoon of blankets and makes her way over to the coffee pot on the countertop. Rings of old coffee cup stains coat the counter like an art piece. Hinami’s fingers trace the outlines, wondering how old some of these were.

The smell of the coffee brewing takes over her senses, thus dulling the rain. She closes her eyes and uses this to drown out the tears of the clouds raining down outside. In truth, she had never had coffee, but it was a staple “blending in” drink that allowed for ghouls to pass off as normal. As well... her mother loved it.

She stretches up to grab the sugar — the type of sugar designed for ghouls —  from the top cupboard. Her fingers graze the edge of the container and she struggles to shimmy it till it tumbles off the shelf and into her arms. Next she finds a mug and a spoon.

The coffee is easy enough to make. She’s seen Touka and Kaneki do it a thousand times. But somehow it tastes bitter in her mouth. All the sugar in the world couldn’t rid her of this bitterness. Hands, shaky and cold, set the cup down. Feet, numb and mechanical, move her back to the couch.

The rain has quickened its pace outside. Hinami finds herself walking toward the sliding door that leads to the landing outside. With the door open, the rain is thundering down. It’s heavier than it was that day, and so is her heart. She steps onto the landing, soaking her feet.

The sky an inky darkness, not a star or moon in sight — not a glimmer of hope to be found. The rain pounds down in heavy sheets making the visibility close to zero.

The rain hits her face hard. Cold and unforgiving. It soaks through her clothes right down to her very bones. She can feel her skin shivering but that girl feels like another person. The only thing she can really feel is a suffocating sadness.

“Why…” she whimpers. “Why did you take her away!” She shouts at the sky. “I’m... I’m so lonely! I can’t do this anymore... mom… please come back.”

The sky answers with a rumble of thunder.

“Why! Why her! Why me! Just give her back to me!” Hinami’s screams are so loud it parallels the thunder raging above her.

She’s not sure when she fell to the ground, but she finds herself sitting in a puddle, soaked to the core. She’s shivering violently now, but none of her muscles want her to move back inside. Let the rain take us they say, let the rain drown us away.

“Hinami!” Touka’s worry rings loud in her ears. A blanket is thrown over her shoulders and she’s whisked up. The light inside the apartment is blinding. “Hinami, what were you doing outside?”

“I... I just wanted to be with mom,” is all she can come up with. But how stupid is that? Her mother wasn’t anywhere in the storm raging outside.

“Oh, Hina.” Touka pulls her into her chest, burying Hinami in the warmth of her embrace. Hinami feels the tears that had been there all along come spilling out. Touka runs her fingers through her hair as she violently cries, soaking Touka’s shirt with her own storm. “You have me. You have Kaneki. I know... I know we’re not your mom, but we love just the same.”

“I’m so lonely... I’m so afraid…”

“I know Hina, I know.” Touka’s presence is soothing and it seems to calm her to a degree. But even surrounded by Touka and Kaneki she’d never be able to fill the hole that had formed in her chest.

Patch it up with the love others she might, but it’ll never heal. Not fully anyway.

“Thank you…” Hinami finally says. “Thank you for everything.”

ii. “Hina, you ready yet?” Touka knocks on her door. They were supposed to be heading to an arcade that just opened up in the area. Touka says it’s to bond, but Hinami knows it’s really to get her out of the house and her mind off her mother.

“Almost!” she yells back. Hinami finishes up the word she was writing in her notebook; red pen, for words she would need to ask Kaneki the meaning too. Yellow pen was for words that she thinks she knows the meaning of, and green pen was for the words she really knew.

Sometimes Hinami wished she went to school like Touka. But it’s safer this way, hidden like a secret buried in someone’s chest.

“Hinami if you don’t come out right now I swear to —” Before Touka can finish her sentence Hinami opens the door to find a Touka biting her lip, arms crossed. But the tension clinging to her features evaporates when Hinami smiles up at her.

“I’m ready.”

“All right, let’s go.”

—

The streets are crowded. Touka groans as they have to slow their pace. Hinami has rarely ventured out since that night, nor since the night she found her mother. The night he payed for his crimes. But with Touka, it feels like she could do anything. Touka was strong and reliable. Something Hinami wasn’t. She was safe with Touka’s hand in hers, Touka’s eyes on the people around them.

“We’ll make it. It’s not going anywhere,” Hinami says, trying to ease the obvious impatience that had overcome Touka since they hit this congested part of town.

“Yeah…” Touka chuckles, “you’re right, Hina.” They continue to maneuver their way through the crowded labyrinth of these streets.  

Hinami can faintly hear the sound of arcade games. She can smell popcorn, it’s too bad it’s something she cannot have.

“We’re close,” she says. Touka smiles down at her. Today would be good, she thought. There will be no ghosts of pain or agony to haunt her tonight. There will only be the promise of fun, of joy. I will move forward. I won’t let this define me.

They approach the arcade and Hinami is starstruck with all the lights flashing, neon greens and yellows. Signs for “FUN” and “GAMES” decorate the exterior of the building. There are several entrances that lead into the arcade. They aren’t doors or anything, they’re just openings, which is probably why Hinami’s senses pick up on everything much quicker with this open atmosphere. People flood in and out of the open entrances, laughing and holding their prizes. A child rides his father’s shoulders, a stuffed bear cradled in his arm like a baby.

Hinami smiles, but she feels some sadness twinge in it as she watches the father and child disappear into the crowd. Touka’s hand squeezes hers, dragging her back to reality. To what’s right in front of her.

“Come on, let’s get going. We have some games to utterly destroy.” Touka pumps a fist into the air and her smile spreads from cheek to cheek. Hinami nods, allowing Touka’s happiness to spread to her, to coat her in a shield of light and joy.

Touka spots a skee ball game and drags Hinami over to it. The rubber of the track is potent in Hinami’s nostrils. Lines of past player’s paths carve up the track. This game must’ve been pretty popular to have gone through this much use. The lights on the backboard light up and carnival music emanates from somewhere in the speaker.

Balls roll to the base of the track, clacking together. Touka picks one up, her tongue between her lips and her eyebrows drawn tight together. She’s focused. Hinami feels a laugh bubble up just as Touka releases the ball. Because of that laugh, though, Touka only gets the ball in the hole marked for 5.

“Hinami! You destroyed my concentration.”

“I’m sorry, you just looked so serious.” Hinami can’t stop laughing and Touka joins her. Laughter, carnival music, the dinging of people winning games. This is the tracklist of happiness. Nothing will take this joy from her.

“Alright you try, smarty pants.” Touka hands her the small rubber ball. Hinami takes her place and mimics Touka’s face just a moment ago; It elicits laughter from Touka. The ball releases from her grasp and slides up the ramp and lands in the hole marked for 10.

“Fifteen points. We’re really showing this machine,” Touka comments.

A few more throws and they only end up with a total of 55. The machine prints them 5 tickets.

“We’ll have to try harder if we want to go home with anything of value,” Touka says. Hinami nods and follows her to the next game they’ll play.

As they walk past one of the openings, Hinami can feel the drop in temperature outside. She chews at her lips. A couple standing outside comment on the change in weather.

“It looks like it might rain.”

Hinami feels her heart begin to ache. Her teeth break the skin of her lip and blood trickles into her mouth, warm and thick. Touka must sense her displeasure, because before Hinami can say anything, she’s dragged further into the labyrinth of games.  

“Come on Hina, let’s play air hockey.” Touka’s hand dragging hers was like a lighthouse on a stormy night, showing her the clear path to safety. “I bet I’ll win.”

They reach the air hockey table. Touka slides in the money and the table spurs to life. Hinami picks up the small plastic pusher in one hand and she places the puck in the center. Touka slaps the puck back to her side of the table getting a goal. She pumps a fist into the air and shouts a half hearted taunt at Hinami.

“Come on Hina, you just gonna let me win like this? Where is your game?” This deep in the arcade she can’t see the outside nor can she sense the rain that might come. She slaps the puck back towards Touka, almost a goal too.

The two continue the back and forth till Hinami reaches ten points first. Hinami throws her hands into the air and a smile reshapes her features into a glowing young girl with nothing to worry about. Touka pouts and crosses her arms,

“Alright you think you’re slick? I bet you can’t win again.”

“I bet I can.” Hinami says laughter intermingling in her words. Touka smiles and adds another coin to the machine allowing it to whir to life again. And it doesn’t take long for Hinami to win again. Touka sighs and throws her hands up in surrender.

“Let’s go take a breather outside, it’s so hot and stuffy in here.” Touka walks toward the openings leading outside. Hinami warily follows her. Outside, she can see the clouds angrily biting at the sky. Thunder cracks and Hinami feels it in her ribs, cracking away, tearing her apart. The next rumble of thunder brings with the sound of muffled cries and the feeling of Kaneki’s hand over her eyes as rain soaks her to her core.

“It okay, you know,” Touka says, her hand reaching out to grab Hinami’s.

“What?”

“To be afraid.” Hinami looks up at Touka and sees something heavy in her face. Something she can’t quite describe.

“I feel so...helpless.” Hinami looks down at the ground, avoiding the sky.

“Being afraid doesn’t make you helpless. It’ll make you stronger,” Touka says. “Trust me.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because I’ve been afraid and I’ve felt helpless. But I overcame it and I’m stronger now because of those fears. They don’t define you, Hina.”

Hinami looks up at Touka again; this time that heaviness is gone, replaced by a full but small smile, confidence dancing across her features. Hinami thinks she looks beautiful when she smiles like that.

“Come on, let’s go back inside. We can’t leave the arcade without having won something.”

Hinami nods and follows Touka back into the noisy, crowded arcade and away from the storm. Touka leads her over to a machine with various toys clumped together. A claw hangs from the top dangling back and forth like a pendulum.

“I’m really good at this.” Touka says. Hinami feels her muscles forcing out a smile but her heart isn’t in it. Her heart is drowning.

Touka inserts the coins and the machine buzzes into action. She uses a lever to maneuver the claw above the toys like it was their God. Deciding which toy would be granted the escape from this machine.

The claw drops and snags the ear of a pink stuffed bunny.

“Now we be very gentle” she stretches the word gentle out as she raises the claw back up with the bunny in its grasp. As she begins to move the claw toward the dropbox, the bunny slips from her grasp.

“Damn it!” She groans. Hinami finds herself fascinated with the game and driven with a desire to get that bunny.

“Again Touka!” She says putting her hands on the glass that separates them from their prize.

“Alright! Let’s go again.” Touka’s smile widens and her eyes focus like a predator who’s located its prey. Hinami turned back to the machine, excitement swirling in her eyes as she pressed her face to the glass. She knew the toy was probably nothing special but she desperately wanted it.

The claw once again roamed over head, taunting both them and the toys. Touka slowly dropped the claw catching the bunny by the ear. Hinami didn’t realize her body was buzzing with anticipation till she felt her legs quivering.

Touka slowly, very slowly brought the bunny toward the dropbox again. Hinami saw a slight shift in the hold she had on it and for a moment thought she would lose it again. But Touka swings the bunny into the dropbox sending it out of the machine.

“You did it!”

“I told you I could.”

Hinami takes the stuffed bunny out and hands it up to Touka. With a laugh Touka tells her to keep it.

“I’m beat, I don’t know about you.” Touka says. Hinami nods, now clinging tightly to the pink bunny. “Come on, let’s go home.”

As they exit the arcade, Hinami notices the rain has vanished.

“Looks like the sun has come out, huh?” Touka comments putting a hand above her eyes to look up at the sky.

A smile: “It has.”

iii. Sun filters in through tattered blinds. The creaky bed underneath Hinami groans as she lifts herself into a sitting position. A shiver runs through her spine as cool air blows in. The ratty blanket she has does very little to shield her from the cold.

She chews at the inside of her cheek, wondering if this really is the right decision. It has been a year since she’s enlisted with Aogiri, but on days when she wakes up to a torn up blanket and a bed so close to breaking, she thinks maybe she was wrong.

“Hina, I’m coming in.” A body shortly follows the voice. Ayato stands in her doorway, his resident scowl perfectly placed on his face, but a cup of coffee in his hands hints at something other than disdain. “I brought you coffee, it’s fucking cold out and this place is shit.”

He moves and sits on the bed, earning an annoyed creak from it. The cup is warm in Hinami’s hand, the steam curling, wafting a scent of something sweet. So he remembered.

“Thank you, Ayato.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’ll see you in a bit to go out and get that mask. There’s no need for those damn doves to see your face.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and shifts from side to side. “It’s a fucking wonder my dumbass sister never got you one”

“I appreciate you helping me, Ayato.”

“It’s nothing personal. If you’re going to stay a part of my team, you can’t be exposed like that.” She catches his eyes wandering anywhere but her face. “Be ready when I get back.”

Hinami finds a laugh escaping from her lips and Ayato turns back — but there is no scowl on his face. Just scrunched features watching her carefully.

“What’s funny?”

“You’re so much like your sister, it just, well, it makes me feel safe,” she replies. Ayato bites hard at his lips before abruptly turning around.

“Just be ready.”

—

The sky is cloudy, tearing away any warm weather the sun might have produced. The streets are mostly empty. Ayato walks just a step ahead of Hinami, avoiding contact with her. She wonders if she makes him uneasy.

“Where are we going? For the mask.”

“A shop.”

“A shop called?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I mean...” She pauses. “I guess it doesn’t.”

“It really doesn’t have a name,” Ayato says. “It’s actually just a place run out of a house of a ghoul associated with Aogiri.”

“Oh, okay. Do you know this ghoul?”

“Why so many questions?”

“I like to know things; is that a problem?”

“Ever hear of curiosity killing the cat?”

“Do I look like a cat to you?”

“Ha, sometimes,” he replies, which causes them both to laugh. Hinami likes it when Ayato let down that iron wall around him. When it was just the two of them, when a crack of light would filter out of him to create moments like this, or like when he had brought her coffee earlier.

Hinami wonders how this boy is the same boy who violently battled Kaneki and Touka all those years ago. The same boy who didn’t seem to care for a single thing around him. The same boy raised in violence and anger. Turned into a machine to be utilized by Aogiri.

Hinami wonders if she has changed. If she has gotten any stronger like she had hoped when she fled into the open arms of Aogiri, unaware of the claws that dug into her flesh. She thinks of asking Ayato, but she’s afraid he’ll take her asking as a sign of weakness.

I am not weak.

I am strong.

Hinami doesn’t need anyone to tell her otherwise. Or so she hopes.

“We’re here,” Ayato says, stopping short. When Hinami bumps her shoulder into him, he doesn’t recoil. Hinami’s eyes trail up a three decker building with winding balconies around each section. The paint is fading, some of the windows boarded up.

“Relax,” Ayato says and places a hand on her shoulder, giving her a light squeeze. Hinami feels as if she’s absorbing some of his strength, just a simple shoulder pat, but it feels like something more. She looks up and meets his eyes. They’re usually so cold and determined, but today they seem softer.

“Thank you, Ayato,” she says. She thinks of putting her hand on his, but she doesn’t want to push him too far. He’ll grow more comfortable with her. She’s sure of that.

The inside of the building is just as ratty as the outside, all chipped paint and loose railings. Hinami lets Ayato lead the way. She can hear muffled music growing louder as they ascend the stairs. Buried in that music, she hears hurried conversations and pencils scrawling on paper.

“Is it just one person who does this?”

“Yeah, usually.”

“Oh.”

Is the other voice a customer, or something else? Hinami swallows any worry she had. Ayato is strong enough to take down a whole squad of the CCG by himself, so he can handle a rogue ghoul if need be.

The door to the apartment swings open, revealing a young man holding what appears to be a freshly finished mask in his hands. “Thanks for your time, mystique.” The man steals a glance at Ayato before disappearing down the stairs they had just ascended.  

“Mystique?” Hinami asks. Ayato snorts, but just continues up the stairs as if to say “see for yourself”. When they enter the apartment, Hinami can’t figure out where her eyes should go first. Sketches and full oil paintings clutter the wall so heavily it‘s as if they had become the wallpaper. Lights of varying colors are strung all around the apartment, dipping and swinging in some places, creating a kaleidoscope effect. Crumpled paper litters the floor along with what appears to be broken pencils and markers, as if the the concept of a trash can doesn’t occur to this woman.

In the center of the room stands a huge table with a lamp as bright as the sun tilted toward the table. A woman sits, sketching away. She picks her head up, revealing her mask. It looks like a masquerade mask, patterns of glittering stars interwoven into the design.

“Ahhh, Ayato!” She jumps from her chair and moves to greet them. She is dressed in a silky black dress that looks more like a nightgown than something you would wear when expecting company. Bracelets take up a majority of her arms, jingling anytime she moves them. She is certainly... eccentric. “And you’ve brought your precious Hina.” And before either of them can refute that sentence as anything but untrue, Hinami’s dragged to a chair near the sketch table.

“Ayato, make yourself a dear and make us some coffee.” She waves her hand toward the tea pot and Hinami half expects the coffeepot to levitate. Hinami suddenly understands why this woman is called lady magician.

“They sometimes call me a witch,” she says as if reading Hinami’s mind. Up close, Hinami can see her eyes through the mask. They‘re a golden caramel color that looks too ancient to belong on anyone this young. Her dark hair is tied messily utop her head, strangs falling out in odd places. “Now, Hina, you strike me as a modest girl.” Without an answer, she begins to sketch. “A collected girl who gives too much to other people... don’t forget you’re important, too. Take some time for yourself as well.”

Ayato walks over with two cups of coffee, interrupting the conversation. The woman takes a sip and licks her lips, “Ah, delicious as always, Ayato.” She continues with some sketches, occasionally glancing up at Hinami. Sometimes she looks skeptical, and other times she looks curious. Hinami feels like a zoo animal.

“Hmm, okay, I have a base mask around here that should fit this design.” She stands abruptly and ruffles through a drawer. “Just a few tweaks and this should do you just right, Hina.”

Hinami eyes Ayato, who appears to be bored and annoyed at having to be here, his arms crossed and a flat expression on his face. Hinami looks out the window and sees clouds beginning to paint the sky a steely gray color. She bites the inside of her cheek and fidgets with her fingers, twirling both her thumbs over and over each other. Hopefully it’s just cloudy.

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” the woman says. She’s tweaking the mask she was going to use for Hinami’s. Her golden eyes are focused and sharp. Hinami’s stomach begins to clench painfully like putty in some cruel god’s hand. She glances over at Ayato, worry and anxiety swirling in her eyes like creamer added to freshly poured coffee.

“Well, I’m not trying to be stuck in some fucking rain, so hurry it up, why don’t you!” His voice is gruff and harsh, but when his eyes meet Hinami’s, there’s something softer gathering in their depths. Like candle wax — drip, drip, dripping.

“I’m almost done, will you relax? It’s only water,” she replies.

Huh... only water. She’s right. But she’s so wrong.

“Finished!” she proclaims. She walks over with the finished mask. “I tried to keep it simple and elegant. Hopefully this works for you, Hina.” She places the mask in Hinami’s hand. “I’ve also got bags if you wanna put it in one so you’re not walking around town holding it.”

Hinami just nods. Her mind is too focused on the storm brewing outside (and inside her, too).

“Thank you,” Hinami says. Ayato says nothing, but heads toward the door. Hinami gives her a last smile before following Ayato out.

“You don’t like rain, don't you?” he says. Hinami, again, only nods. He seems like he wants to press for more, but he lets her be. As they walk outside, she can smell the rain before she feels the cool droplets splash across her skin. “I brought an umbrella,” he says after a bit, and Hinami just nods again.

—

Ayato walks, holding the umbrella more so over Hinami than himself. The streets are empty due to the rain pouring down onto the pavement in a pitter patter. Every so often he’ll look over at her and regret it. A horrible sadness sits heavy on her features. A look that doesn’t suit a girl like her. It’s as if the sky is crying for Hinami, wailing for some injustice that Ayato can’t see.

They walk down the empty street in silence, which Ayato feels is suffocating. The whole way here she wouldn’t shut up with all her damn questions. But now it seems something has stolen her voice, tied her vocal chords together and cut her tongue out. He realizes he doesn’t like it when she is quiet. Even more so, he realizes he likes it when she speaks to him. He feels normal — he feels wanted when she speaks to him.

They round a corner and Ayato thinks of speaking but —

“My mother died.”

Ayato doesn’t know what to say; it isn’t what he was expecting. “I’m sorry” didn’t taste right in his mouth — bitter and foreign.

“The doves got to her.”

My father, too. He wants to tell her, but this moment seems entirely hers, and he doesn't want to turn the focus on himself.

“It was raining the day she was killed,” Hinami says. The words are so soft, like snow falling. But they seem so heavy in content that Ayato understands why she looked so frantic back in the apartment when the weather began to change. Why she is so solemn now, why it seems a funeral is living in her bones.

Ayato isn’t sure what he should say. He was far better with acting on his emotions than actually attempting to vocalize the tornado of thoughts ripping through all the nerves in his mind. He watches the way her eyes seem so focused on the cracks of the pavement as they walked.

“I used to be terrified of the rain,” she laughs but it’s hollow, “now it just make me sad.”

“Hina...I’m sor— I didn’t know that happened.” His mouth doesn’t seem to know how to form words of comfort. The muscle memory for genuine care atrophied. But he continues, willing it to work. “Your mother didn’t deserve that...didn’t deserve to have someone judge her worthy of living or not.” He has to fight the urge to not get angry. He hates the doves. But this was Hinami’s moment and he couldn’t rip it away from her. Turn this into his own personal vendetta.

“It’s been so long but even now when it rains I...it hurts.”

“You’re stronger than this rain.” He says. He looks over at her. Her face downcast, fingers trembling. “You don’t have to let it control you.”

“I...I know. I realize that.” She looks up at him, tears streaking her face. “But everytime it rains I’m just…. I just feel this overwhelming sadness and fear. I can’t control it.”

“I think rain is pretty.” Ayato says. He doesn’t realize his hand is on her shoulder till he looks at her again. “It cleanses the world, brings nutrition to plants, washes things away.”

This time when her eyes meet his there’s no fear, instead there’s hope — like the sun poking through the clouds.

He continues: “Let the rain wash away your feelings of sadness.”

A laugh: “I never thought about it that way.”

“You’re a smart girl, Hina. Don’t let your emotions run away with you.”

“You shouldn’t bottle up your emotions either.” She replies. He’s caught off guard by her statement.

“Maybe we both need to grow up then.”

—

When they get back to Hinami’s room he follows her in. He notices a pink stuffed bunny sitting on her bed. The bunny looks like he’s seen some better days. His left ear is childishly stitched back. Fur that was once easter pink is now faded and grime clings to it. One of the eyes is missing and the other looks like it’s about to follow.

“Touka won him for me.” Hinami says ripping Ayato from his thoughts. “Shortly after my mom died.”

Ayato chews his lips at the mention of Touka. He liked Hinami but he also forgets sometimes that she grew up with Touka. The way he didn’t. The way he should have.

One corner of her mouth is turned up, like she wants to smile but her body can’t take it. The rain has decided to launch a full scale attack. It hits hard against the window. Ayato thinks it might come right through.

“Well I should —”

“Will you stay?” She asks before he even finishes his statement.

“Are you still scared?”

“No...well...I am.” Her eyes meet his and he realizes right then just how pretty they are. “But I know I’m not alone. I guess that’s what Touka wanted to show me… but...here with you I feel like I can take it on.”

“Hina…”

“So will you stay?”

“Always.”

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role Highlights C2E33 (September 11, 2018)

Tonight’s guests are Taliesin Jaffe and Liam O’Brien!

Announcements:

Support the RavenRook Kickstarter! Brian used one of their notebooks to take notes in his own home campaign. (”I was the Marisha.”)

The NYC live show on Thursday, October 4 still has tickets available! (Liam: ”It’s like the inside of Gilmore’s mind, that theater.”)

There’s a new State of the Role video on YouTube and the website!

Between the Sheets, CR’s new show, premieres on Monday, September 17 at 7 PM Pacific on CR’s Twitch channel, and then on YouTube about 36 hours later. The first episode features Taliesin Jaffe and is over an hour long. Brian: “Taliesin is like an endless well of darkness and love and joy. So many bad things.”

All Work No Play is returning! Premieres on the Twitch channel (also later windowed to YouTube) on Friday, September 28 at 7 PM Pacific. A dire warning from Brian: “Have liquid nowhere near your mouth.” Liam: “We’ve seen some things.”

CR is raising money for the Pablove Foundation!

@critrolestats for this episode:

This is the first episode of campaign 2 to have no crits.

There were 16 spells cast this week. Ten of them were Disguise Self, six of those by Jester. Taliesin: “Sometimes you don’t want to be the guy who’s nine feet tall in the theater.”

Of the eight Sending messages Jester has sent this campaign, only her last one to the Gentleman was under the 25-word limit.

Liam: “I feel so sad that Laura can’t be here tonight, because I, personally, wanted to know what Laura thought about what happened in the last episode. I share your disappointment that I’m not Laura Bailey.” Taliesin: “He’s making a suit. It will eventually be okay.���

Caleb’s feelings about the ocean were tied up in finally being out of the Empire. “It was just a rare moment where all the things that weigh on him heavily receded for a bit.” Seeing Crownsguard in town did ramp up the worry again.

Taliesin hadn’t actually seen snowfall until he was a teenager, so the first time that happened was “an intense experience”. Caduceus has spent a lot of time thinking about how large the universe is, but having this confirmation was a really wonderful thing for him. He’s on a delighted high right now, and they’re going to have a hard time getting him away from the ocean.

Everyone talks briefly about their respective Tumblr Aesthetics. As you do.

Caleb’s thoughts on the ocean and the dodecahedron: “Confirming to himself that the universe is wide and vast and complicated, and there’s a hidden logic to it all. It was like seeing his heart’s desire splayed into an abstract form in front of him.”

Brian reminisces about some time they spent on the beach together. Liam was a sea monster. Ashley was attacked by a bug. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the police got involved.

Taliesin confirms that Caduceus really likes the group. “I mean, he doesn’t have a lot of people to compare them to.” He feels like he “really gets” Jester; she seems like the easiest book to read. Taliesin: “He knows what he knows. He knows he doesn’t know a lot, but he knows it doesn’t matter.”

Caleb didn’t assume that Jester’s mom was evil, it just didn’t sound like a great childhood. Caleb still feels sad that Jester had to go through that. “Nobody’s evil, it’s just that life is life and hard. He sees that Jester’s mother obviously loves her very much and is like,��‘I wish she got to see more of her.’” Brian points out that Caleb’s thoughts about other people are always much kinder than his thoughts about himself. Caleb’s constantly thinking, “Ah, this is what life would be like if I wasn’t terrible.” Taliesin points out that it is, by definition, what his life is like, but he’s not there yet. He feels detached.

Caduceus doesn’t understand “the entire nature” of the relationship between Beau and Jester and their pets. “I think if we had another person in the party, he would have the same-- ‘Cool, another.’ This is just three more living things to communicate with.” He likes the owl best so far.

Caduceus doesn’t really get what’s going on with Jester and the Gentleman. Taliesin: “That’s cool, man, get to know your dad!” Liam: “Caleb thinks that all of the Nein, except for Jester, are kind of fucked up and kind of problematic in their own ways... and then Jester’s one of us, more so.” 

Caduceus has a pretty positive relationship with his family. He’s 50-ish, which is the equivalent of early 20s. “He’s literally grown up in a monastery, so his early 20s is not necessarily other people’s early 20s.”

Gif of the Week: Travis’s Lore Alert.

The show gets derailed by Brian’s Dune-blue eyes. “Are you spicing?”

Part of Caleb being more watchful over Jester is being out of the Empire. “He sees chances to help people---he’s irredeemable, but he’d like to be helpful if he can. From his point of view, he’s got things that he’s going to do.”

Brian asks if Taliesin and Liam think there’s such a thing as an irredeemable character. Taliesin on Percy: “I tried to make an irredeemable character and failed.” As long as they’re not a caricature, it’s hard to pull that off. Taliesin: “As long as you have a character who’s trying to move toward something.” Liam: “I definitely intend Caleb to have some chance for redemption.” He doesn’t know where his story will go, but he wouldn’t play him otherwise. Taliesin: “He’s a villain only in his head, which is really the hardest fight of all.”

Dani points out that the Gentleman clearly wanted to keep his relationship with the Ruby on the down-low, and Jester bringing it up could backfire badly.

Marisha’s off-screen trying to catch a fly. Liam: “It’s Vecna. He’s immortal. He’s just been flying around the studio for months.”

Caduceus was looking for a particular kind of information, and “the lighthouse called to him. The lighthouse was his mission. If he’s focused on something like that, he’s focused. It’s very hard to distract him.” He didn’t get as much out of it as he wanted, and badly wants to know more.

Taliesin wrote a segment about the Wildmother in the upcoming artbook, some of which wound up bleeding through to Caduceus. Liam and Brian discuss Taliesin’s amazing writing.

Liam and Marisha get into an argument about the tower. Marisha: “Sometimes it’s just fun to hop the fence to say that you could! I’m not in this episode! Stop talking about me!”

Fanart of the Week: the Ruby of the Sea by ZomgDae!

An extremely deserved shout-out to Rachel Romero for everything she does!

Taliesin is asked if Caduceus has trained himself not to show anger, sadness, or fear. Taliesin points out that Caduceus hasn’t had a lot of reason to be angry, sad, or afraid yet. “He has a lot of very quiet and very personal delight. He’s not a creature of heavy desire. He’s not missing a lot. If something hadn’t gone wrong in his home, he never would have left it. He’s seen violence, and he’s very comfortable with the nature of violence.” Liam: “In the National Geographic sense.” Taliesin’s excited to see what happens if he or his companions are put in a place of real peril.

Liam was entertained that nobody playing the game picked up on Marisha, Matt, and Taliesin’s alter egos in the werewolf one-shot. Laura’s going to be up next in the DM chair at some point, and Taliesin has a fun idea as well.

Fast Times At Talks Machina: After Dark High:

Taliesin thinks Molly and Caduceus would get along pretty well; they had a lot in common. Taliesin was finishing up Molly’s playlist this week, and all the songs he cut wound up finding their way into Caduceus’s playlist.

Taliesin owns a book about presidential beards (because of course he does) and wants to take Brian through that journey. Brian actually grew his beard in the first place because Laura made a comment about him not looking good without one in an early episode of TM.

What would they use the dodecahedron for in real life? Job interviews, auditions, dates...

Dani asks about Frumpkin. Caleb specifically summoned Frumpkin as a cat because he’s a cat person, based on his experience with his childhood cat. Liam’s cat named Frumpkin was actually a siamese, not a bengal like in-game Frumpkin.

Taliesin: “All of our characters should have pets like Strawberry Shortcake.”

We leave you with this image:

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Six Baudelaires AU, Part One {AO3} {Read from the Beginning}

Chapter Twenty-Two → in which Violet steals a Sailboat

“The fucking Ferry is closed!” Nick shouted.

“Language!” Lilac shouted.

“It doesn’t matter!”

The six siblings, sopping wet and shivering, had managed to make their way to town, only to find that the Fickle Ferry did not operate during Hurricane Weather.

“We could wait until it opens.” Klaus said quietly, huddling against Nick for warmth and pressing Sunny to his sweater.

“It won’t open until the storm is past,” Nick said, “And by them Count Olaf will have found us. We have to get to Aunt Josephine.”

“We can’t just swim across the lake.” Lilac said.

“We couldn’t walk, either.” Nick said. “Too far, even if we weren’t freezing.”

“Cold.” Solitude shivered, leaning against Nick.

“I know, I know, sweetie.” Nick said. “It’s okay, we’re gonna figure something ou- where the fuck did Violet go?”

They all looked around, realizing their sister had slipped away.

“Goddamnit!” Lilac shouted, stomping her foot. “She can’t stay still for five seconds?”

“Oh no.” Klaus muttered. “Oh no, oh no, oh no… she’s gone missing, we’ve lost her, what if Olaf has her?”

“If- if Olaf captured Violet, we’d notice.” Nick said, though he looked very nervous. “We were right here, a-and he’d capture all of us, right?”

“She’s gotta be fine.” Lilac said. “She probably just wandered off- okay, everyone stay with me. Where would she go?”

“Hey.” they all jumped and spun around, to see Violet standing behind them, holding several raincoats in her hands.

“Where the fuck were you?” Nick asked.

“Don’t do that!” Lilac shouted.

“What happened?” Klaus looked terrified.

Violet, not even bothering to react to their shock, simply said, “I stole us these. Found a sailboat we can steal. Come on.”

“What?” Lilac shouted.

“That is… a lot to process.” Klaus said.

“Take a coat,” Violet said, “Or we’re all gonna die of hypothermia or some shit before we even get to the cave. All the sailboats are being sold by that henchperson with hooks, but he’s asleep right now so we can just take one, bring it back if we don’t die.”

“Violet!” Lilac shouted.

“Lilac!” Violet imitated. “Come on, are we getting Aunt Josephine or not?” She turned to Nick. “Read any books on sailing?”

“Fifteen.” Nick said. “And two on meteorology.”

“I’ve read three, and seven on meteorology.” Klaus said.

“Then we’re good.” Violet said. “Get a move on, we haven’t got all night.”

“Irma?” Sunny shrieked, meaning, “Did you miss the fact there’s a hurricane?”

“Did you miss the fact we need to get to Aunt Josephine before Count Olaf finds us?” Violet said. “Take a raincoat, and let’s find the biggest boat. We’ll need to fit all of us in it.”

“I’m gonna kill you.” Lilac hissed.

“Maybe after we get Josephine.” Violet shrugged. “Let’s get a boat.”

They found the biggest sailboat they could, and Nick and Klaus found a small nook to hide Solitude and Sunny, where they’d be unlikely to fall overboard. Solitude pulled out Babbitt, who curled up on her shoulder and chirped comfortingly as the two girls hid and held each other’s hands. Nick and Lilac positioned themselves towards the front of the boat, and Violet and Klaus towards the back, and Klaus and Nick shouted instructions as they ran around, trying to keep themselves from falling over in the storm.

While they sailed, they managed to find five life vests- not enough for all of them, even if they would’ve fit the toddlers. There were some oars stored under the seats, as well as a bucket in case of leaks, and a lever in the back.

“I found a fishing pole!” Violet called as the boat sailed farther away from shore.

“Violet, get the tiller!” Klaus said to her. “The lever in the back-”

“I know what a tiller is!”

“Lilac, can you help me with the sail?” Nick asked.

“We’re gonna die.” Lilac sighed, grabbing onto a rope.

A wave splashed the side of the boat, soaking Sunny and Soli, as well as Klaus’s left leg. Solitude giggled as Babbitt chirped, as Sunny curled closer to her and tried to ignore the lightning. Lilac and Nick worked the ropes, struggling to keep the boat upright in the turbulent wind, while Violet worked the tiller and Klaus kept his eyes on their direction, hoping they’d reach the cave before they got lost in the lake.

The children sailed for a very long time, and after a while, Lilac’s nerves calmed, and Violet got the hang of the tiller, and Nick and Klaus stopped falling over and getting hit by waves. The thunder clapped and the storm raged on, but as the siblings carried on, they found themselves getting more used to sailing, and thus it seemed to be getting easier. Even Solitude and Sunny found themselves being more lulled by the boat’s rocking than frightened of it.

“You know,” Lilac called over the roaring waves, “This is sort of fun.”

“Li!” Violet cheered. “It’s like when we played Female Finnish Pirates, except we have an actual boat and not just a box in the living room!”

“And we are in danger of death at any second!” Nick shouted. “So it’s better!”

“Nick!” Lilac shouted, but she laughed.

And after a while, the storm wore itself out, and the sea calmed, and Soli and Sunny crawled out to sit on top of the seats and look up at the shining stars, settling Babbitt on Solitude’s shoulder, where they slept as the siblings sailed on.

Just as the sky grew as dark as it would that night, and Sunny started to yawn and Violet herself started to wonder if they’d ever reach somewhere, they saw a blinking purple light on the horizon.

“The Lavender Lighthouse!” Nick shouted.

“That’s gorgeous.” Lilac said.

“Meh.” Violet shrugged, though she did look relieved.

As the boat pushed closer to the lighthouse, they glanced up at the sky, to see the clouds had parted, and a bright full moon shined onto the lake. Soli leaned over the edge of the boat to look at the water, and Klaus lifted Sunny so she could get a better view.

“Lake Lachrymose is actually very pretty.” Klaus said quietly. “I never noticed it before.”

“I guess we never noticed,” Lilac said, “Because we got used to looking at it through Aunt Josephine’s eyes.”

They nodded, and Nick leaned over the edge of the boat and said, “I see a cave! Behind the lighthouse, that must be it!”

“Everyone sit down!” Violet called. “We’re going to Curdled Cave!”

They approached the mouth of the cave, and Lilac and Nick jumped from the boat once they were in shallow enough water, dragging it towards the shore. Violet picked up Solitude, who placed Babbitt carefully in her pocket, and the six siblings stepped out of the boat, staring into the dark cave.

“What’s that sound?” Nick asked.

“It’s just the wind inside the cave.” Klaus said. “Cave winds make weird noises.”

“It’s a bit freaky.” Lilac admitted.

“Come on,” Nick said, elbowing her, “I can make weirder noises.”  

“It’s not a competition, Nick.” Violet said.

“Let’s make it one. Screaming competition, go!” Nick said.

“Maybe after we find Aunt Josephine.” Lilac said.

“Look at that.” Violet said, walking towards a rock and watching as Solitude leaned over and poked at a wooden sign. “Curdled Cave is for sale.”

“Who’d want to purchase such a phantasmagorical place?” Klaus asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” Lilac said. “Come on, guys.”

They carefully grabbed each others’ hands and walked into the cave, squinting in order to see in the dim light. Curdled Cave was very small, very dark and very damp, and as they peered around some large rock formations, they were startled to see that Aunt Josephine was curled in the corner, wailing into her lap.

“Aunt Josephine!” Lilac called.

“Aunt Josephine!” Violet and Klaus shouted.

“Baudelaires!” Aunt Josephine looked up, hastily scrambling to her feet as the children ran to her. “Baudelaires, you deciphered the note! I knew you would!”

They finally reached her, and Violet quickly said, “It was mostly Klaus and Lilac.”

“But Nick and Violet worked the sailboat.” Klaus added.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it!” Josephine said. “And I’m glad you all made it safely! I’ll help you unload your luggage, I do hope you brought food, I’m running low.”

The Baudelaires stared at her in confusion. “Luggage?” Nick asked.

“Food?” Sunny asked.

“Yes, food.” Josephine said expectantly.

They stared at her, and then Lilac said, “We didn’t bring food.”

“Well, how do you expect to live with me here without food?”

“Live here with you?” Nick asked.

“We didn’t come here to live with you.” Klaus said.

“Then why are you here?” Josephine asked.

“Stim!” Solitude shouted. “Because we were worried about you!”

“‘Stim’ is not a grammatically correct sentence-”

“Because Count Olaf almost caught us!” Violet shouted, anger in her voice. “He could’ve taken us away, because everyone thinks you’re dead!”

“Yes,” Josephine said, sounding very frightened, “Captain Sham revealed to me over dinner that he was Count Olaf, and forced me to write that note, saying he’d drown me in the lake if I did not. But I tricked him- I wrote in that code, and I threw my statue out the window so he’d think I jumped, before climbing down the cliff and finding my emergency boat.”

“You didn’t call the police?” Nick asked.

“Of course not. I can’t use the phone.”

“Why didn’t you take us with you?” Lilac asked, her voice breaking slightly. “You left us all alone, by ourselves.”

“Lilac,” Josephine said, “It is not grammatically correct to say ‘all alone by ourselves.’” Nick let out a groan as she continued, “Now, you could have said, ‘You left us all alone’ or ‘You left us by ourselves,’ and that would have been correct. Do you understand?”

Lilac stiffened, and Klaus said, “We understand plenty.” They understood that their guardian cared more about grammar and her own safety than the safety of the children she was to care for.

“Come on, Aunt Josephine.” Nick said. “We’ll sail back to town, and tell the police about Count Olaf.”

“No!” Jospehine said. “No way! I’m staying right here!”

“They won’t believe us unless they see you’re alive!” Klaus shouted.

“I am not going back there, I’m too afraid!”

“We’re all afraid!” Violet snapped, her fury finally boiling over. “We’re all fucking terrified, Aunt Josephine! We were afraid when you brought home Count Olaf, we were afraid when we thought you had jumped out the window! We were afraid to give ourselves allergic reactions, and we were afraid to steal a sailboat and make our way across this lake in the middle of a hurricane. We were afraid, but that didn’t stop us!”

Aunt Josephine shook her head. “I can’t help it if you’re braver than I! I’m not sailing across that lake, I’m not making any phone calls, and I’m going to stay right here for the rest of my life, and nothing you can say will change my mind.”

Violet took in a frustrated breath, and Solitude let out a tiny sigh. Nick put his head in his hands, and Lilac held a very angry Sunny a bit tighter and stared at the ground.

But quietly, Klaus stepped forwards and said, “Aunt Josephine? Curdled Cave is for sale.”

“So what?” Josephine asked.

“That means,” Klaus said, moving closer as his siblings realized what kind of card he was playing and started to smile a little, “That before long… certain people will come to look at it. And some of those people…” he paused, before almost whispering, “Will be realtors.”

Aunt Josephine’s mouth hung open, and she looked hurriedly around the cave, as if a realtor was already hiding and waiting to pounce. “Okay.” she finally said. “I’ll go.”

“Thank fuck.” Nick muttered under his breath, and Klaus grinned.

“Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no…”

“Lilac,” Nick whispered, “Can you get her to shut up?”

Violet was sitting in the back of the boat, teaching Sunny and Soli how to use the tiller. Klaus sat by her, trying to keep his eyes on the horizon, to figure out which direction would take them to town. Meanwhile, Aunt Josephine sat in the middle of the boat, looking more terrified every second.

Lilac glared at Nick. “Be polite.” she whispered.

“Not gonna happen.”

“Nick.”

Nick sighed, and then scooted towards Aunt Josephine, who was wearing two life vests at the same time. He sat across from her and, slowly, pulled a photo out of his pocket. It was thankfully not too damaged by the water, and as he passed it to her, he said, “Can you tell us about this?”

Aunt Josephine looked down at the photo, and they were surprised to see her face soften. “Ah, Lucky Smells Lumbermill. In Paltryville!” she sighed. “It’s not far from here, maybe a day’s drive. I remember the day this photo was taken. We were all so young. Look! There’s Ike. Isn’t he handsome? Oh, and Gregor! Of course that was before… well…”

“Who are all these people?” Klaus asked, moving closer to the photo.

Josephine bit her lip. “You could call us Volunteers.”

“Why were you at a Lumbermill?” Nick asked. “And with our parents?”

Josephine sighed again. “It’s a very long, very scary story, Baudelaires. Your parents… they were much braver than I ever was. Brave and Noble.”

“They never told us about you.” Klaus said quietly. “Or Uncle Monty.”

“We think there’s a lot of things they never told us about.” Violet sad.

Josephine bit her lip. “Your parents told me once that they wanted to raise you in a quiet world… a world far away from the fiery injustices that were threatening all of us. They wanted you to be safe.”

“It didn’t work.” Lilac said.

“No.” Josephine shook her head. “It didn’t. Your parents made a vastly frightening decision, Baudelaires, and it ended in fire. Why, I remember when I saw them last. Your Mother, she said… she… oh no.”

“What?” Nick said.

“Oh no.” Josephine looked positively terrified. “We’ve just entered the territory of the Lachrymose Leeches!”

The children glanced at the water, noticing that it was starting to swirl darkly. “Well,” Lilac said, “That’s nothing to worry about. None of us have eaten since this morning. That was way longer than an hour ago.”

“Thian!” Solitude shouted, turning to glare at Aunt Josephine. “Think again!”

They all turned to Aunt Josephine, who was shaking uncontrollably. “Banana.” she said. “Right before we left.”

“Aunt Josephine!” Lilac shouted.

“You couldn’t have mentioned that?” Nick asked.

“Lee!” Sunny called, pointing to the water. “Leeches! Ten o’clock!”

“Son of a fuck!” Nick shouted, leaning over the edge of the boat.

“Nick!” Josephine shrieked. “That is definitely not grammatically correct!”

In the churning blackness of the lake, the children could see skinny, rising shapes, only slightly visible in the cold moonlight. They weren’t any bigger than fingers, but they were moving very fast, and there was quite a lot of them. There was a quiet, whispering sound coming from them, and after a moment, they were on the boat, banging against it and letting out frustrated screeches.

“Look.” Lilac said. “We’re perfectly safe. They can’t get past the wood.”

“Sure.” Violet nodded, slowly picking up Sunny and passing her to Klaus so that she wouldn’t be close to the water. “Perfectly fine.” She lifted Solitude, almost shoving her at Nick, who hugged her a bit too tight, and Soli let out a cry of exasperation.

The tapping sounds on the edge of the boat started getting more frequent and more loud, and Nick said, “Li? I think they’re frustrated.”

Lilac glanced into the water, and then relaxed. “No, look! They’re leaving.” The leeches were wriggling away in the water, swarming together into a shape similar to a question mark. Then, after a moment, the leeches rushed back, hitting the boat with a loud thwack! and causing it to rock. The children and Josephine screamed, struggling to remain upright, and as soon as they did, Solitude pulled Babbitt out of her pocket and held them to her chest, so she was absolutely sure they wouldn’t fall out of the boat, and she didn’t even complain when Nick held her tighter.

“Yadec!” Sunny shouted, pointing to the side of the boat.

“Sunny’s right!” Violet shouted. “There’s a small crack in the boat!”

“We have to sail faster!” Klaus said. “Or this boat will break to pieces!”

“Oh, okay, Klaus!” Nick shouted back. “We’ll just control the wind, then!”

“Nick, this is no time for sarcasm!”

“I’m coping, Klaus!”

“I’m frightened!” Aunt Josephine cried. “Please don’t throw me overboard!”

“Nobody’s throwing you overboard!” Lilac shouted.

“Aunt Josephine, take an oar!” Violet called. “Lilac, you take the other one! If we use the oars, the sail and the tiller, we should move faster!”

The boat was hit again, and they let out shouts of surprise. One of the leeches was thrown over the side of the boat, twisting around on the floor. Solitude screamed, and Klaus had to grip tight onto Sunny to keep her from crawling out of his arms to get a closer look. Lilac grabbed an oar, hitting the leech like it was a baseball and sending it flying back into the water. She put her oar in the water, as if to row, only to let out a shocked scream as the leeches pummeled the oar, biting away with their sharp teeth.

“Well, oar’s busted!” Lilac shouted, tossing it into the water.

“We’re so fucked!” Nick said.

“We are not fucked!” Lilac said. “There’s always something! We’ll find something-”

“If we can’t go faster,” Violet said, whipping out her ribbon and tying back her hair, “We’ll have to signal for help. There’s gotta be some boats nearby, now that the storm’s done!”

“How do we signal?” Klaus asked.

Violet considered, shutting her eyes as Lilac also tied her hair up. “Yes! Close your eyes!” Josephine shouted. “That always helps me when I’m frightened! Close your eyes and pretend you’re somewhere else!”

“She’s concentrating, Aunt Josephine!” Klaus shouted. “And so’s Lilac! They’re going to save us!”

After a second, Violet leapt to her feet, reaching under the seats and pulling out a bucket. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Lilac asked, looking over at her as she ran for the mast.

“Absolutely.” Violet said, as she swung the bucket over her shoulder and started climbing the mast. “Get me a fire!”

As she continued to scale the mast, Lilac ran towards her Aunt, saying, “Josephine, I need your hairnet and your oar!”

“You can have the oar!” Josephine said, thrusting it into her hands, “But I need my hairnet, it keeps my hair out of my face!”

“I don’t have time to argue with you!” Lilac said, glancing up to see that Violet had reached the top of the mast, and was now hanging the handle onto the tip, creating a kind of bell. “I’m trying to save our lives!”

“Lilac-” Josephine began, but she stopped as soon as Nick ran forwards, yanking the hairnet out and throwing it at Lilac, before jumping aside as Violet grabbed onto the sail and leapt back down, ripping the fabric as she did.

Lilac took the hairnet, wrapping it around the fishing pole, saying, “Nick, Klaus, see if you can keep leeches from getting on the boat! Vi-”

“Already on it!” Violet shouted. She took the oar, rubbing it against the wood of the boat.

“Wha?” Sunny asked.

“Klaus, Nick, tell her about friction.” Violet said.

“When you rub two sticks of wood together,” Klaus shouted, jumping away from a crashing wave, “It creates friction, which creates sparks, which makes fire.”

“Once we have a fire,” Violet said, “We light the fishing pole on fire and wave it around-”

“Which creates a signal!” Lilac added. “Then we hit the bucket like a bell, making noise!”

“Vi!” Nick said. “The boat’s too wet for the oar to cause friction!”

“Then what do you suggest, oh wise one?” Violet snapped.

Nick and Klaus looked at each other, both reaching the same conclusion. Then, Klaus said, “I still have the spyglass! Use that!”

Sunny grabbed his spyglass from his pocket for him, and Violet took it, saying, “The scientific principles of the convergence and refraction of light?”

“The scientific principles of the convergence and refraction of light.” Klaus nodded.

“The scientific principles of the convergence and refraction of light!” Nick repeated.

“Ray!” Solitude added, and I will give you a wild guess of what that translated to.

Violet held up the half-spyglass, aiming one end at the fishing pole Lilac still held, and pointing the other end at the bright moon up ahead. After a moment, the moonlight passed through the lens, concentrating into a beam of light, creating a small flame.

“Thank fuck!” Nick shouted.

“Language!” Lilac said, running to the front of the boat and waving her makeshift torch. Violet grabbed the oar and banged onto the bucket, also shouting for help as she did.

“Save me!” Josephine cried. “Save me!”

“Mayday!” Sunny shouted.

They only had to signal for a few minutes, before they saw a boat approaching on the horizon. Nick and Soli cheered, and Lilac breathed a sigh of relief.

But everyone’s relief was zapped away the second they saw who was driving their rescue boat.

“Hello, hello, hello.” Captain Sham said. “Fancy meeting you all the way out here.”

[caitsbooks]

Caitsbooks Reviews: Small Town Hearts (ARC) by Lillie Vale

I received an ARC via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. All quotes are taken from the ARC, and all opinions are my own. Overall: 5/5 Stars Characters: 5/5 Setting: 5/5 Writing: 5/5 Plot and Themes: 5/5 Awesomeness Factor: 5/5 Review in a Nutshell: Small Town Hearts is a fantastic read, with something for everyone, from an adorable romance to a great portrayal of the ups and downs of friendships.

"This was the summer that everything had come undone, unspooling our lives like the wickedest of storms. Now there was only the calm, the after.”

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"We get to come back from our mistakes. We have to believe that’s possible.”

- Premise - Small Town Hearts follows Babe, who lives in the lighthouse of her small town that attracts a fair share of tourists and visitors during the summer months. When she meets Levi, an artist, she must remind herself of a very important rule: never fall for a summer boy. But when she finds her friendship with her two best friends crumbling, and her ex-girlfriend back in town, falling for the wrong boy may just save her summer.

"Oar’s Rest held on to memories. Every first kiss, every last kiss. Every tragedy, every miracle. It was greedy for them.”

- Writing & Setting - Lillie Vale’s writing style is amazing. Her voice is the perfect blend of the humor and wit that’s now a must for lighthearted contemporary romance, and the elegant prose of heavier, sometimes denser reads. It sets the tone for this fun, adorable, yet grounded story. It also helps to vividly portray the town of Oars Rest, which is probably one of my favorite aspects of this book. I grew up in a small beach town that can get touristy, and the entire time I was reading this book, I kept seeing my hometown. Lillie Vale’s portrayal of Oars Rest made me remember why I love my town so much.

"I could be the captain and get us through these rough waves.”

- Plot - There are a lot of things going on in this book, but it never feels heavy. There is constant action, angst, and drama stirred by the various relationships (romantic, platonic, and familial) and the unique events of an Oars Rest summer. No moment is dull, there is always something interesting happening, and always something you’re waiting for, dreading, or anticipating.

"Whatever was good about us, we’re choking it to death. Our roots are too tangled. We need to have space to breathe.”

- Characters - Not only was the setting crazy relatable for me, but also the characters. Babe is such a fascinating protagonist, with flaws that hit home a little too hard, and so many great strengths. Her character growth over the course of this book is amazing! Meanwhile, her best friend, Penny, was equally grounded. I want to go on about her more but I don’t want to give anything away, but let’s just say she struck a nerve with me. That was one thing I really adored with this book. There were no cliche mean girls in this book, which is something that you see in YA contemporary too often. Instead, you’re given down-to-earth, scarily realistic characters that will remind you of people you know in your life, both for better and worse. The romance in this book is absolutely adorable, and Levi is such a great love interest. Also, I was so happy to see a bi main character fall in love with someone of the opposite gender and no one calls her straight or minimizes her sexuality! Honestly, everything with the LGBTQ+ rep in this book was amazing. I was so happy with how her ex-girlfriend was handled. She was still in the closet while they dated and broke up, and I loved that she was never blamed for not wanting to come out and that Babe respected her privacy and protected her secret even if led to more issues for her. It was just really great.

"We were beginnings and middles, but we weren’t endings. They were still up there in the clouds somewhere, waiting for us to catch up.”

- Conclusion - Pros- Great LGBTQ+ representation, amazing setting, relatable and realistic characters Cons- ??? Overall- 5/5 stars. Small Town Hearts should be added to everyone’s TBR. It’s adorable, fun, yet full of heart and depth. This is a book you can’t miss!

"Because the strength of a lighthouse is from its being alone. From being a beacon of light in the darkness, a finger showing you which way is home.”

[suggestionsofthecaribbean]

Chat: Girls’ Night

Feat. @lizzyswann-turnersuggestions, @giselletortugasuggestions, @anamariasuggestions, & @angelicasuggestions

TL;DR: The girls of the reluctant Jack Sparrow Rescue Mission join for a night of drinking wine, dragging Jack, and offering advice on each other’s love lives whether it’s been asked after or not.  

Come to see Angelica and Anamaria become the hottest it couple of the Caribbean, learn Elizabeth’s true feelings on James Norrington and discover a truly horrifying secret only Giselle can impart...

Elizabeth had never hosted a party.  She had been the guest of honor at a few parties her father had thrown for her birthday, and that when she was younger - when she was old enough to host her own parties, her friends had largely moved or married out of Port Royal society.  Too proud to ask either James or Giselle for advice this time on how to adapt Port Royal party customs to a quartet of cool pirates, she decided on several basic necessities: food; drink, both alcoholic and otherwise; some kind of rag in case there was a spill; the potential props in order to play games, but kept out of the way so that no one felt obligated; company (so adieu, Captain Norrington, girls only); and, naturally, rules.  She was explaining that to the first arrivals on the scene. Elizabeth (to whom it may concern): Teasing is tolerated, bullying is not.  If you want to behave like one of the men you can go sit with them if you like.  I will be very clear on this point: if anyone wakes in the morning with something written on her head, so help me God, we will find the culprit and we will dunk her."  [mood shifting out of Pirate King mode] ...But I think that covers it.[Giselle puts her hand up] Giselle: Can we write elsewhere? Angelica: Can we write on the guys if/when they fall asleep? Ana: I was gonna suggest no writing on people without permission but I’m in if we are writing on the guys. Elizabeth: [pointing at Giselle] Excellent question! No. [pointing at Angelica, then Ana] Hang on a minute. What guys are going to be here? Angelica: Not here, on the rest of the ship. We can sneak out when it gets dark Elizabeth: I dunno if that's really covered by the all-girl-party rules.  I was just sort of thinking of establishing ground rules - ground here being my cabin.  Outside of it you can do what you like, can't you? Angelica: That sounds fair Angelica: Also I brought wine, if anyone's interested [Giselle gives a thumbs up, already getting into the snacks] Ana: Works for me! And I’ll take a glass. Angelica, pouring wine for Ana: So what do you usually do on a girl's night? Giselle, mouth stuffed full: Not have sex with men. Elizabeth: [poker face] Ana: It was rare we’d ever have one, but I grew up with four older sisters. We would talk shit about the boys around town, do each other’s hair sometimes, drink. Angelica: That sounds lovely Angelica: and not having sex with men can definitely be accomplished Elizabeth: ...yeah, mostly gossip and drink.  Discuss - [cough] - discuss anything you're not supposed to be discussing in mixed company. Angelica: it's okay you can say sex life Angelica: how's the former navy man? [Giselle manifests popcorn] [Anamaria chokes on her drink trying not to laugh] [Angelica sips wine] Elizabeth: [turning red] ..... as he is your captain, I don't know if it would be, hm, civil to discuss it- Angelica: how about we all tell each other a secret, to make things fair for poor lizzie? Giselle: Well it's not like we can't hear it Elizabeth: [loudly whispering] GISELLE Ana: Can’t say I’m not disappointed to not hear that gossip, but we don’t all have to talk about anything we’re not comfortable with. This is supposed to be a fun night, no stress. Ana: Or men. Which is like the same thing. Angelica: cheers to that Elizabeth: [takes a  big swallow of wine and elects to stay silent] Giselle: Well, in terms of secrets, I'm willing to share some Angelica: Oh? Giselle: [takes a delicate sip of wine] i was once part a group of ladies brought in to entertain some fancy pirate lords Elizabeth: [leaning in from where she's decided to sit] Anyone i know? Ana: [gets comfortable, grinning] Oh God here we go! Angelica: I fear the worst Giselle: i think i'm the only one what can claim to have undone both jack sparrow AND his father Elizabeth: Angelica: That might be the worst sentence I've ever heard, are you okay sweetie? Giselle: a bit itchy sometimes but overall alright Angelica: I can imagine Ana: I have no words. I kind of want to high five you and also forget I ever heard that. Angelica: I second that Ana: Does Jack know?? Giselle: don't think they talk much Giselle: kinda want to see his face when he finds out Ana: That’s exactly what I was thinking Angelica: I brought him up once and jack straight up left Angelica: just walked out Ana: Oh. I’ve only ever heard stories about his father, but never from him... Elizabeth: If it's not too forward - how do you know Jack? Angelica: Let's just say it's his fault that I'm not a nun anymore Ana: He DIDN’T. Of course he did. Elizabeth: [unintentionally melodramatic hand-pressed-to-heart reaction] Angelica: I learned the hard way that Spanish monasteries take chastity very seriously Elizabeth: ... I am so sorry. Ana: I swear to God he ruins everything he comes across. [rolls eyes and takes a drink] Elizabeth: I don't have anything even comparable to that, but he did try to trade my hus- [winces, collects herself] He tried to trade my ex-husband to Davy Jones to free his own soul.  And lied to me about it the whole time, letting me think he was doing everything in his power to save the man i loved, who had been cruelly forced into service by Jones.  He was just using all of us to get to the heart of Davy Jones, and he didn't care what became of us along the way. Ana: I...I’m so sorry you were treated that way. He can be a complete bastard. Sometimes he even takes pride in it...but I can’t imagine he’s proud of all that. That doesn’t make what he did any better though. Giselle: ………we should leave him to rot Ana: I sometimes wonder why we don’t. He owes me a debt, at least, is what I say my reason is for going after him. Elizabeth: ...Beckett's got warrants for our - I mean mine, Will's and James' - executions... all because we helped Jack out of his own. Elizabeth: I don't know, I guess if he just dies somewhere it's like it was all for nothing. Angelica: And I thought he fucked my life up Angelica: Are you guys okay? Elizabeth: I'm the Pirate King. I'm fine. [hesitates and chews on her lower lip] ... I don't know about James so much. Angelica: Well he's got the bastard himself pursuing him despite everything Angelica: Can't be much fun Angelica: why are we even talking about him, I thought this was girl's night?Angelica: Can't we shift the conversation to something more uplifting Elizabeth: I mean, it's certainly an icebreaker - he's the one thing we all have in common. Ana: Can you imagine how terrified he’s going to be when he comes back to find we’re all friends? Angelica: God you're right about that Angelica: Must be his worst nightmare Ana: We have to scare the SHIT out of him! Angelica: Honestly the only thing that he'd find worse than this would be if we were dating or something Angelica: So I think we're good to go Ana: [winks] Line up, I’ve got two secret admirers already. Elizabeth: [turns extremely red at that one and crams pretzels into her mouth] Angelica: That you do, any updates on that by the way? Ana: No. One’s a naval officer but it’s not James obviously so who even knows. And the other one’s part of the crew, but God knows who it is. Angelica: Yeah I have no clue to be honest Angelica: What do the rest of you think? Elizabeth: [shrugs broadly] As you put it, Anamaria, I've never had a secret admirer, and I don't know the first thing about them. Ana: Alright. But you or James probably know the crew better than I do, so if you ever have a theory let me know. Angelica: This is like a mystery novel Elizabeth: The real mystery is how any of these men learned how to write poetically. Angelica: How do we know if it's a man? Angelica: I mean the naval officer, obviously Giselle: [defensively] nehemiah's a poet! what with his hashtags and quips Elizabeth: [patting her on the arm] Yes, but he's not writing Anamaria, because he's taken. Giselle: [glances between anamaria and angelica, stuffing popcorn in her mouth - SHE HAS THEORIES] Angelica: [sips wine] I'm just saying Ana: I mean it’s either a guy or one of us, if they’re on the crew. Or they could be lying. Angelica: If it's jack I'm going to throw myself in the sea Ana: Pfffft he would have his work cut out for him if he tried. And it doesn’t seem to be his ghost messages so I think I’m in the clear Angelica: Oh that's right he does That Giselle: you should look for hidden messages Giselle: like them emoji Elizabeth: Like, the emojis being clues to the identity of the sender? Giselle: yes! we're all pirates, we're supposed to do hidden clues and such Angelica: idk guys this doesn't look like it could lead to anything Angelica: pretty normal looking if you ask me Giselle: it's a star Giselle: stars shine bright in the night Giselle: so do…… lighthouses!! it's a lighthouse keeper!!! Elizabeth: [wanting to preserve Giselle's feelings but not on board with this] I think it might just be an emoji they think is very nice. Elizabeth: Maybe you should ask Nehemiah! He knows, I'm sure, lots about emojis. Angelica: do we know any lighthouse keepers? Angelica: It sounds like a Solid theory to me Ana: I’m gonna agree with Elizabeth on this one Elizabeth: If they haven't conveyed their identity yet, I'm sure they have a good reason. Angelica: They might be scared or something idk Elizabeth: When my - it took Will a long time to tell me he loved me.  He had to be sure how I felt about him.  There was... It doesn't matter anymore. Nevermind. Angelica: Aw hun, you don't have to think about that Angelica: Do you want some wine? Elizabeth: Thanks, but I should probably watch how much I drink. Angelica: Fair enough, that means it's more for me Elizabeth: ...anyway. They'll tell you when they're ready, I know it. Angelica: Let's hope they do Elizabeth: They just want to be sure she'll accept them for who they are. Angelica: Oh yes I'm sure Angelica: If you got to choose, who would you want them to be, ana? Ana: I wouldn’t even know, I was always working with family, or just working so much I hardly cared. Never really thought about love. Ana: My dad left my mom when I was really young so I guess I just never thought it was worth enough to go looking for love. I haven’t been unhappy without romance. [shrugs] Angelica: I understand that, though in my experience that's just something that men do Elizabeth: [chatting w giselle about james' clothes lol] Angelica: No offense to you two, liz, Giselle Angelica: I'm sure your boys are fine Elizabeth: ...yeah, I'm usually the guilty party. Angelica: Oh really? Elizabeth: .... Exited an engagement to get engaged to someone else. Annulled that marriage to get with someone else again.  [beat] ...Kissed Jack during the second engagement. But it was to kill him, so, you know.[avoiding everyone's eyes] And.... even in a good place, I still think about other people. It's. [huff] It's confusing. Angelica: Maybe you're just not meant for monogamy? I've met plenty of people who made alternatives work Elizabeth: [mumbling] I don't think that's it. Giselle: i feel like it's okay to kiss someone outside your engagement if it means jack sparrow dies Angelica: Oh I'm totally with you on that one Giselle: but aside from that, i'm happy with how slow things are going with nehemiah - ain't never met anyone what didn't want to get my knickers off as quick as they could Angelica: But from what I can tell, that's not always the case is it? Ana: One of my older sisters used to say she was “window shopping”—she didn’t feel bad about looking at attractive men as long as she didn’t “make a purchase” while she was with another. Angelica: That's quite the philosophy, and completely understandable Elizabeth: .....Or attractive women. Angelica: Oh cheers to that Angelica: Being attracted to women is 90% of my life honestly Elizabeth: [peeping up at her in relief, and also... more relief] So that's - that's completely normal? Angelica: I mean if you ask me, it totally is Angelica: Maybe you should ask your man if he's up for a threesome? That way you could get in touch with some ladies Elizabeth: [COLORING] That's not really- nevermind. Angelica: It’s not for everyone, I get that Ana: [lets out a breath] I hadn’t even noticed that I found women attractive until someone thought to ask. I’m glad I’m not the only one. Giselle: i mean, threesomes are alright, i ain't never had a problem being with the ladies, but you had to share the money after… Angelica: Thought threesomes would cost extra? Giselle: they do Giselle: they do Giselle: i just don't like sharing my money Angelica: fair enough Elizabeth: [laughs out loud] Ana: [chuckling] I mean, you earned it, I get that. Angelica: [nodding in agreement] You worked hard Elizabeth: ...Giselle, have you ever been in love?  Before Nehemiah, I mean. Giselle: love's a bit of a fool's game in my old line of work, y'know? they start askin for free what you can charge ten shillins for Elizabeth: What'd you charge Jack? Angelica: I could have charged him?? Giselle: [huffs quite loudly and mutters into her wine] not enough considerin Ana: If I’d charged him he probably would’ve stolen it back anyway. Angelica: That's true Angelica: He's tricky like that Angelica: did he leave anything behind when he passed away btw? Anamaria: Whatever, I was using him for sex right back, would’ve evened out if he didn’t take my boat Elizabeth: I don't know how, but I heard Tia Dalma has what's left of him. Ana: Did someone loot the body? Angelica: Isn't she the swamp witch? Feels a little weird to leave a dead body with her Elizabeth: .... was it. Was it any good? Ana: ...I don’t like to talk about it because I hate admitting that it was. He doesn’t need to know that. Elizabeth: [presses her hands over her mouth and lets out a little squeal]  I want to know about it though! Elizabeth: I'm the only woman here who hasn't- you know. Angelica: [nodding] I'm not saying it was worth it but all I'm saying is that his mouth is good for more than talking Angelica: The mustache does tickle tho Elizabeth: [is gonna die] Ana: ...yeah I’m gonna pass that question off to Angelica and Giselle. I only ever did it the once anyway. Angelica: For the record I'd like to inform you all that I'm better than him Elizabeth: [moves her hands from covering her mouth to just burying her entire face in her palms] Angelica: I do hope your little navy man takes good care of you sweetheart Angelica: I always say that if he won't go down on you he's not worth your time Elizabeth: [muffled groan] Angelica: [sips wine] Ana: We could be your wingmen if you need it? I can’t tell if you’re embarrassed or upset because your face is covered. Angelica: I can make a powerpoint if you want Angelica: to show james Ana: He seems in love enough he’d probably do whatever to please you. Elizabeth: [pulling her hands down, composing herself immediately, after a moment to sniff as though she was on the verge of crying] I'm good. It's - we're good. Thank you. Elizabeth: [glances at Anamaria with a particularly fond smile at her statement that James looooves her] [because aww] Angelica: Eating ya girl out is part of being in love, everyone knows this Angelica: Just fyi if anyone here is thinking of dating me Elizabeth: [lifts just one hand to hier brow to make it out like she's scratching her temple but is really just momentarily avoiding Angelica's eyes] Angelica: [sips wine] Ana: Maybe if I did date someone the secret admirers would finally speak up about who they were.. Angelica: That might be uh, that could work maybe possibly Ana: I wouldn’t want to use someone like that, though. I dunno, stupid idea. Elizabeth: [hands end up clasped over her mouth again, but she doesn't say anything much] Angelica: I mean I could help you, if you want Angelica: That's what friends are for, right? Ana: What, like, fake date? You’d be okay with that? Angelica: Yeah, totally! :) If it helps us find the admirer then any tactic is good Angelica: plus it might scare jack Ana: That WOULD be hilarious. I mean, if you’re sure you’re okay with it, it’s worth a shot? Angelica: I don't see why not :)))) as long as you're comfortable with it Ana: Alright. I’m sorry I’ll probably be pretty awkward, I haven’t been in a relationship in ages Angelica: Oh no I'm sure you'll do great ️Angelica: So uh Angelica: Do we announce it? Ana: I guess so...? Elizabeth what did you do when you and James started seeing each other? Elizabeth: I... don't know that there's anything to compare to this. Angelica: If we want the admirer to see it we can't be discreet, right? Ana: I guess not, I just don’t really know what to post. It’s not like tumblr has a relationship status thing Elizabeth: Oh, hell. [laughs, albeit a little tensely] Elizabeth: Actually.  I think that's nearly the same as this. Ana: [concerned] Elizabeth, are you alright? Elizabeth: I'm fine.  There's just a whole lot of irony going around. Angelica: If you talk about it, maybe you'll feel better? Elizabeth: What's any of you know about James and I? Angelica: Not much, but if we knew more then we might be able to help you Angelica: We just want what's best for you darling Ana: I know you two are very close, he cares about you a lot. That’s about it. Elizabeth: Uh. Well. Elizabeth: James proposed to me in Port Royal the day I was first abducted by pirates.  I accepted him after he rescued me later, but I was in love with somebody else and he let me go. Elizabeth: I didn't mean to end my entire marriage for him.  I wish I could say I did.  But it just sort of happened when Will and I met up and I told him how I was feeling. Elizabeth: Then, you know, James showed up in Tortuga and they tried to lynch him.  I put a stop to that, and - more or less, people thought I was getting some... Use out of him.  So yeah. Elizabeth: [back to business] Same as you, pretty much.  We faked it really.  I was only keeping him in my room since I thought somebody might try to finish hanging him if they got him alone. Angelica: So it was a bit of a coincidence, is what you're saying? Elizabeth: A huge one! Imagine if he'd showed up just a little earlier than I did. I'd have been too late. Angelica: Oh yeah he'd be dead af Ana: So are you saying it’s still kinda fake now? Elizabeth: It's pretty real now.  I just don't know where it's going. Angelica: Well are you happy? Do you love him? Elizabeth: I'm. I'm not sure. Elizabeth: I'm not sure if I've ever really been in love. Elizabeth: [covers her eyes again as though she's getting a headache] Let's not talk about me. Angelica: No but sweetie, we need to solve this Angelica: You look like it's really eating you up [she puts her arms around liz] Elizabeth: [groans, inwardly, outwardly, globally, spiritually, on the astral plane, etc] Elizabeth: I've said I love him, but I don't know what I feel. Except guilt! I feel so much guilt! Angelica: I'm sorry to be the one to say this, but you might need some time to work on yourself darling Angelica: I'm not necessarily saying you should call things quits completely, but it sounds like this could end up being bad for both you and James Elizabeth: I can't do that to him.  I was just talking to him about us. Angelica: Listen, you can't move things too fast if you're not sure about this. Whatever you decide to do, that's one point I cannot stress enough Ana: Sorting through your emotions on your own time, either by yourself or with people you’re comfortable with, doesn’t mean you have to leave James behind, or even go on a break. Elizabeth: Angelica, if i took that advice, I would be on an island in the Caribbean somewhere, starving. With Jack Sparrow. Elizabeth: I've spent the last three years of my life moving too fast. Angelica: Then maybe it's time to calm down a little. Focus on your career or something Elizabeth: But I do care about him. Elizabeth: And it's not Jack that ruined his life, it's me. I did that. Elizabeth: He let Jack go because I stepped in and asked him. Elizabeth: Hell. If I had married him, he might not have chased Jack into a hurricane, either. Elizabeth: I owe him a lot.  And he needs my protection - he worked for Beckett for a year and no one trusts him. Angelica: Sweetie, you can't be in a relationship just because you feel like you owe the guy something. That's not healthy and certainly not fair to him Angelica: With your position I'm sure you can grant him some form of protection, as for what you owe him there are other ways to pay that debt off Elizabeth: [a little stubbornly] It's not the only reason. It's part of the reason. Angelica: A reason still, you should never feel like you owe a significant other anything Angelica: How would you feel if it were the other way around? Elizabeth: If James felt that he owed me? Angelica: exactly Elizabeth: I think he does feel that he owes me. Angelica: Then that's no good either Elizabeth: [desperately] Do we really have to talk about this? Angelica: If it's making you uncomfortable then we don't have to, but I do think you should talk to someone about this Elizabeth: There's nothing to talk about. Angelica: [shrugging] if you say so... Elizabeth: [crossing her arms, but thankfully not evoking either pirate king or captain status to get her way, just sulking] I do. Angelica: Yeah I can tell :) Ana: Well I might be shit at relationship advice but I’m fantastic at changing the subject. We ranted about Jack already but we haven’t dragged Beckett? Angelica: The only thing I know about him is that he's short and a Bitch Giselle: short and obsessed with himself - we all, 'cept cap'n swann, ree-gret-ah-blee have a kom-man-al-ihtee with him Angelica: Oh really? And with that, Girls’ Night amiably returned to slumber-party standards: subjects were changed, wine was had by all, and eventually men’s faces were defaced with mysterious sigils such as approximations of the eggplant emoji and the exotic incantation only known as DEEZ NUTS... and what horrors it summons, none yet live who can speak of it.

[gyeolsim]

august 2nd

[misha’s handwriting is clumsy and sweet, mixing cursive and print letters however he pleases, trying his best to write straight lines on the yellowing pieces of paper he ripped out of his sketchbook but failing to do so until the end of his letter is half-diagonal.]

thiren,

i usually call you foster but it felt weird to start like that, like it’d be a formal letter. miss foster, attached you will find a description of our summer. it feels weird to call you thiren too, i don’t know you like that. i guess name-related formalities don’t translate well to english, but i’m always weirded out when people our age call adults by their first name, like prof mothman, may i call you moth? it’s just not right.

sorry it took me an extra week to write back. the dean stuck me in a day-loop but he chose a real quiet one, just me and munro and the clouds, too gray to swim for too long, so i only noticed the day was suspiciously familiar when munro wasn’t done finished reading the same book in three days. i’m just kinda distracted because i’m going back to magadan [scribbled in a tiny font in between lines: ^russia] to get my things from my dad’s house. i grew up in there. i think you’d like it. it’s on a hill too, and the ocean behind our house freezes up in the winter at night, and when the sun rises and the ocean hasn’t warmed up yet everything is so quiet, and you feel like you’re the last person on earth.

these days i spend most of the year in wsc and the summers in korea with my moms and/or the munros. i haven’t been back in over a year, and i gave up writing letters to my dad a long time ago. i’m eighteen now so i guess i’m finally the man he always wanted me to be so now and i can face him and let him know that i’m proud of who i am and it doesn’t make me sick or broken and he’s not going to like it but it’ll be fine. it’ll be fine. i’ll be fine. i like russia but russia doesn’t like me. it’s kind of a first time haha. it’s weird because i always thought i’d do this with a boy and munro was kind of a surprise, but it’s important to me that he knows. it’s important that i tell him.

i’m writing from the munro’s lighthouse. i like it here. i think you would too. i like that all of us grew up by different oceans, like maybe at some point when we were kids we were all sharing the same water and we didn’t even know.

in the mornings we do chores or go fishing for dinner or go exploring the rocky cliffs and munro still sucks at making nests but it’s fun and it feels so free like we’re never in wollstonecraft, you know, it’s like our lungs get bigger.  in the evenings we have lunch with her dad and we go up to the lighthouse and we read in silence or to each other or sometimes we play boardgames when mr. munro is in the mood, but sometimes moire and i get too rowdy and he kicks us out so we go to the cove and [scribbled over] whoa ? ? ? ? ?

whatever

did you know that munro has a shit-ton of cousins? i met em when we went to the village and they all look like her but not really, you know, red and freckled but not like the sun when you’re underwater and everything is cold but you know that the light means not forever. she gets embarrassed when i talk to them, and they’re either into me or freaked out or both. all small towns be like that.

i guess munro’s dad is like my dad now. is that weird ? it feels weird to write it. not cause of how munro and i are, but because i’ve never actually said it before. he calls me son and i help cooking and cleaning and he’s teaching me how to keep the ships safe and i’m teaching him how to fix their truck, and sometimes he touches my hair but not like when men are creepy y’know, like he’s proud or some shit. i don’t know. it makes me sad and happy and scared, because i’ve got someone else to take care of now, and sometimes his knees hurt. there’s only one of me and the weight of that responsibility makes me feel like i can’t breathe sometimes, not like i don’t want it but like it’s so fucking important it’s the only thing that matters.

thank you for the pic. i wish i’d gotten to spend more time with your mom but i was too busy making sure my moms didn’t get into too much trouble. not to get all oppression olympics on you, but having seven moms pretty much always tops everyone else’s parental problems. i know what you mean though. i think we’re reaching the age where it’s our turn to take care of our parents and it tugs at something in our chest like an ache and a responsibility and love and fear that we’re going to fuck up. what’s your mom like? she seems like she loves you.

i want to do something like that with however much life i have left, taking care of something that matters. i never thought about it cause i never thought i’d make it past eighteen but i guess i got an extension on this assignment and i’m scrambling to figure out how to make the best with the chance we got (senior year 2: back to the senior).

munro says hi. we’re talking about backpacking europe or maybe hong-kong before getting to busan, which is a whole different story. i guess i’ll tell you about it when we get there.

anyway, what is the difference between regular magic and blood magic ? i asked le blanc once but she wanted one of my teeth in return and i wasn’t in the mood to play pretend dentist so i let it rest. she’s weird like that but i think it’s cause she’s worried of how it’s going to come across if she just says things how they are, so you kinda have to work your way around the bs, but if you make it sound like helping with your arm is the most fucking fun thing in the world she might do it without realizing she’s helping. don’t tell her i told you.  

anyway, write back if you feel like it or if you get stuck in a loop, they’re fun only for like an hour after you realize and then you get lonely. do you have friends over there? how did you get started on the alchemy thing? why is your hair/skin like that? is that rude to ask? ask me something rude in return if you want.

misha reznikov.

ps. stealing this from munro’s letter to truong cause i thought it was fun but i dare you to find another supernatural creature near you and maybe befriend them. send pics. i also choose dare 

[in moire’s handwriting] don’t ye make him do something lame!!!!!!!! hi foster --MOIRE

[enclosed is:

a selfie of misha and moire, misha bare-chested and moire in a plain bikini top, grinning at a starfish that’s gotten stuck to misha’s forehead.

a polaroid of the lighthouse from the beach, tall and reassuring.

a childish drawing of a seal mom and her baby seal basking on a rock, a lot of time and effort put into it.]

[thorkidumpster]

Saaame I have so many WIPs. Tell me about your lengthiest one? Gimme a sneak peak of your favourite part and maybe what you think has you stuck.

sneak peek? here, just have the whole goddamn thing. it’s only a little over 1.3k words long.

Thelighthouse has always been here, perched on the rocky cliff.

ForThor, the lighthouse may well have been created when the gods torethe sky from the earth and filled the chasm left behind with churninggrey seas. The stone had already been worn to marble smoothness whenhe arrived as a boy, lead there by the fairies once he grew too oldto play their hidden midsummer games.

Sohe climbed the tired, sagging steps to the top, lit his fire, andwarned the ships of the dangers—both on land and below the waves.

Shipswould appear hazy on the horizon, all rotten wood and crewed by wretchedsouls. As the ships drifted closer, they would fade away, leavingonly the wails of the men who had died upon those rocks.

Themermaids watched with merciless eyes, waiting for a live crew to gnawon—when they finished with a wreck, no bones nor shiny bobblesremained. There were times they turned their attentions to Thor andtried to Sing time down from his tower, but he had been touched byfairy magic. He could hear the unholy screeching under their Songs,the desperation for marrow to suck. They longed for the flesh of men,and grew desperate on their lean diet of small fish and whateverweighty washed ashore from the deep dark.

[keep reading]

Theywatch him from the rocks with black void eyes, mouths a jagged cut ofsharp teeth set in flat, scaled faces. Women, once, and beautiful asall people are—until they were tossed into the merciless sea assacrifice, their deaths a sailors' plea for calm seas and passingstorms.

Butthe sea embraced these lost wives and daughters, and shaped theirbodies with gentle currents. More fish now than woman, a predator andsister to the sea.

Thisparticular bed of mermaids remained at behest of their only lover.The water sings to them, provides for them, and in the pull of themoon-tide, they hear its words. They would not stray through aburning light and its keeper's interference in their hunt withoutorders.

Forthe most part, he avoids them and they do not try overly hard to killhim.

Butthey are a fair barometer for the ocean's health, so when Thor wakesin the dusky hours of the night to them screaming in fear, theirknife-teeth and unclosing lips trying to form words he cannotunderstand, Thor springs from bed, snatches an old fish-knife fromthe table, and dashes to the coast with no care for clothes.

Thewailing grows even louder as he approaches—the mermaids are tearingat something with their hands, a lump of flesh just too far onto theshore for them to snatch. A dead animal, Thor assumes, until the lumpgives a wheezing scream of its own.

Aman.

Thorsprints down to the huddled, shuddering man. The mermaids snap theirteeth at him, spitting more words, but when he brandishes his daggerat them, they scatter back into the water.

Hecrouches down by the man, equally as naked as he. There are deepgouges on his chest like the raking of nails, and Thor can see thewhite of bone peeking through the red, torn skin. The man's—no,boy's, because the lad looks no older than his twentieth year—hisface is swollen and dark as the horizon from bruises.

Thorcarefully slides his arms under the boy's knees and around hisshoulders and lifts him, mindful of the dispatched hip. The boy criesfrom the jarring, a pitiful bubble of a sob, but Thor pays littleattention. He must be moved, and so Thor is moving him.

Thereis a little shack attached to the light's tower; only one room foreating and sleeping and cooking, but that is all Thor needs. All hehas ever needed. He values his solitude. But having no better placeto set the boy, Thor lays him out on his bed, then he gets to work.

Watermust be boiled, needles sterilized, clothes gathered, herb crushed,and poultices made. But first, that hip.

Thorrolls his shoulders. “This is going to hurt like a bastard,” hetells the boy, who moans at his words. His eyes are a haze of fear,but shock is settling in—good, then he will not remember the pain.

Thorangles the boy's injured leg at an angle and presses his weight ontoit, hard, harder—ignoring the boy's pleas—until he feels the hiprealign properly. The boy gives a shuddering gasp, bloody tearsleaking from his eyes.

“Boy,that was only the beginning,” Thor sighs. He has nothing on hand toserve as an anesthetic. “You best just go on and pass out now.”

Buthe doesn't. The boy remains awake and screaming through the longhours of the night.

It'snot until the sun burns over the ocean line that the boy sleeps. Heis stitched, patched, and mended to the best of Thor's abilities andsupplies. Thor considers a trip into town—if the smatteringcollection of faded cabin and sad, dilapidated merchant stalls couldbe considered a town and not just human stubbornness. It was a waystrek inland, though, a journey that eats several hours of the day andreturns him in time for supper. Thor hesitates to leave the boy alonefor that long. It'd be faster if he had a car, but he's neverbothered with machines and metal, not after kissing the world ofmagic.

Sohe sits at his lonely table for one and waits, whittling bits of woodinto carvings of the fairies that raised him, the parents he couldbarely remember, and selkies with their furred coat cast over humanshoulders.

Everynow and then, the boy stirs. His eyes will flicker, useless, behindtheir lids and his chapped, gouged lips will part with a whine.

Buteven as Thor watches, the bruises darken, then turn to a faint blue.Whatever the boy is, he is not human.

Justfor that, Thor has a half mind to throw him back to the sea.

Theboy sleeps for another day and a half.

Thorsnoozes upright in his dining chair, head dropping down to the armscrossed over his chest. He passes the time examining the boy'shealing wounds—all recovering at a remarkable speed, except for theslices along his ribs. Thor occasionally slathers more herb pasteonto his thin chest, interest piqued as to why only those seem to beclosing at a human rate.

It'snot until Thor cooks his dinner at the end of the second day does theboy wake properly.

“Who?”The boy whispers—his eyes are still half-closed and murky from thefever that comes and goes.

Thorscratches at his bristled beard. “Better question'd be 'where', boy.”The rabbit he's searing hisses in the pan and a fat dollop of butterleaps out. “But name's Thor.”

Theboy's nose twitches at the smell, but for good or ill, Thor can'ttell. “And... where?”

“Lighthouseon Gråstrand.”

“...okay,”The boy says, his voice scratchy and parched sounding.

Thorhums and fills him up a glass of water. The boy's hand is too weak tograb the cup steadily, so Thor must tilt his head and raise the rimto his lips for him. The boy drains the cup, sputtering as his drythroat fights the liquid.

WhenThor lowers the empty cup, the boy's doe eyes seem brighter.Satisfied, Thor turns his back to return to his rabbit.

“Don'tyou want to know my name?” The boy asks, almost offended.

Thorlifts a shoulder. “Don't rightly care. But if you must, go on.”

“Myname is Loki,” he replies.

“Soundslike a fine name,” Thor says, offhand. He plates his rabbit andfries slices of tubers in the drippings of fat and butter leftbehind.

Lokigroans as he shifts in the bed, settling into a more comfortableposition. “That smells good.”

“Youain't getting any. Not until I'm sure you won't puke, boy.”

“Loki.”

“S'whatI said.”

as for where i’m stuck... i mostly struggle with plotting without someone acting as a soundboard. it’s dumb, i know XD so this is as far as i’ve gotten on my own. it’s about as far as i ever get, unless i’m just writing porn.