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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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Indruck hunt nsfw!!! I'm so excited you're doing fills again, they're always so good!

Thanks so much, and here you go! Duck’s form is based on a Green Wrasse, and Indrid’s is based on a Flamboyant Cuttlefish.

Go along the trenches they said. It’ll be easy they said.

Duck’s been here for two hours, trawling the spot where the sea bed and reef give way to deeper water in search of black moon oysters. It’s courting season in Kepler, and if he can find a few he’s certain at least one of the two mers he has his eyes on will agree to a date. But at this rate, he’ll be bringing some of his model ships as his gifts for his first year of courting, and that’ll be embarrassing. No one wants to date a mer with such a boring hobby.

So here he is, far from where most reef mers would even think to come, searching for a shellfish notorious for it’s shadowy color. At least there aren’t any deep sea mers around to see him repeatedly get hissed at by the same eel because he keeps losing his bearings and checking crevasses he already searched. He’d rather not have an audience.

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

Indrid cannot believe his luck. Weeks of hunting, of hunger, with barely any food to be found, and now a tantalizing, green tail dangles near his hide away. No mer in these parts has such coloration, so it must be a very big fish indeed.

His foresight is half-obliterated, so he must rely on skill to earn his prey. He camouflages as best he can along the rockface, creeping along beneath the ledge where the tail keeps disappearing and reappearing. If he lunges too soon, he’ll miss and scare off dinner.

Almost...almost…

He pushes up in a burst of speed, grabs the tail, and propels back into his lair, his prey putting up a remarkable fight. He doesn’t notice his error until it punches him in the eye.

“OW!!”

“What the fuck?” The merman spins, lashing out again but missing him in the dark.

“I, I am so very sorry, I thought you were a fish!”

“I look like a damn fish?” His unwilling guest gestures angrily at his upper body.

Because his eyes are adapted to dark water, Indrid can clearly see the muscles in his arms, the round belly and charming face. Now he wants to sink his teeth into him in an entirely new way.

Oh, right, he’s waiting for an answer.

“From down here you did. I assumed all reef mers stayed far away, and thus missed the obvious explanation for the size of your tail. I, ah, am not the sharpest when starving.”

The wary, annoyed expression softens, “Ain’t there food down here?”

“Yes, but it’s fast, poisonous, or fought over, and I’d like to keep all my tentacles attached to me.”

The merman points at the cave ceiling, “The reef is just up there. We got plenty to eat.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t, they’d recognize me as a deep water mer and be frightened.”

“I could vouch for you. Assumin you don’t plan on grabbin anyone else.”

“Of course not” He flicks all his tentacle tips, trying to hide how hurt he is by the suggestion.”

“Then you can be my guest. There’s a festival tonight, so the grub oughta be good.”

“You mean it?”

“Yep.” He nods, black hair swirling around his forehead.

“Thank you so very much! I, is there something I can do to repay you?”

“Well…”

He mentally crosses all fingers and tentacles, hoping for an answer along the lines of “kiss me” or “hold my hand on the way there” and he flickers his lower body an appealing yellow to sweeten the deal.

“...you got any clue where to find black moon oysters?”

“Yes” he cocks his head, “why?”

“Wanna give ‘em as a present to some mers tonight.”

“Ohhhh” Indrid nods, understanding and trying to hide his disappointment, “a courtship gift. Of course, right this way…Duck.”

The mer starts, “How’d you-”

“-Know your name? Foresight, though it’s severely diminished right now. He smiles, holds out his hand, “I’m Indrid. Now, let us find you those oysters.”

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

Duck never expected a deep sea mer to be so chatty, but as they weave their way between rocks in search of their quarry, Indrid talks amicably about all manner of things, often swimming backwards so he can ask Duck questions about his life on the reef. Listens intently as Duck tells him about his time studying coral health, demanding details as they float across a deeper trench.

Still, Duck feels like he’s not carrying his conversational weight, and when Indrid peers into another empty crag he asks, “hey Indrid, what kind of fish only comes out at night?”

The other mer blinks his glowing red eyes, “What kind?”

“A starfish.”

A slower blink, and then Indrid snickers, “I didn’t know we were in the pun timeline.”

“Sorry, know it’s silly-”

“Why was the shark worried after eating a clownfish?” Indrid wiggles his tentacles.

Duck smiles, “no idea.”

“Because it tasted funny!”

He giggles, “that was awful.”

“Precisely!” Indrid beams, then pulls Duck flush against the cliff-face. In the darkness beneath them, he can just make out something immense swimming along the trench. Indrid doesn’t release him until it’s out of sight.

“Apologies, but there was a non-zero chance of that being an aggressive shark.”

“Glad you were here watchin my ba--holy fuck!”

Only Indrid’s eyes are the color they were a moment before. The rest of him, even his hair, is the same speckled grey of the rocks.

“Indrid that’s, that’s incredible! I know mers who can color change a little, but nothin like this.”

“It’s mainly for survival purposes, but I am glad you, ah, you like it” Indrid returns to his usual color, save for his tentacles, which flash pink on their way back to silvery-blue.

“Can you control it?”

“To a degree; some of it is subconscious expression of emotion, but much of the time I can manipulate it as I need. See?” He holds one tentacle out in front of Duck’s tail, matching it perfectly.

“That’s so fuckin cool.”

“I, ah, would be happy to show you some more” the pink flashes are back, “but first…” he pulses up to small ledge, slips three tentacles inside, and retracts them with a flourish a moment later, each hold a pitch black oyster, “let’s get you to your party.”

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

In spite of there being no timelines where Duck reneges on his end of the deal, Indrid remains nervous most of the way into town. Then the other mer stops, reaches into a stand of kelp and produces a scallop, “here, you were hungry when we met and you put off eatin to help me, seems only fair to get you a snack before you get there.”

Indrid grins, rips open the shell, and downs the mollusc in what he hopes isn’t a completely horrifying way. It’s been so long since someone shared a catch with him.

“Do you still want to see more camouflage?”

“Hell yeah.”

They pass the rest of the journey to the town square with Indrid changing color, the two of them laughing as Duck comes up with increasingly ridiculous things for him to match. He adds in extra effects, hoping to dazzle Duck, and he’s having so much fun he’s almost sad to arrive at the party.

Then he sees the buffet, and it’s difficult to be that upset. Better still, Duck doesn’t immediately leave him in search of his potential lovers. Instead he guides Indrid to a cluster of other mers his age. Juno, Aubrey, and Dani all welcome him into conversation and help him navigate some of the unfamiliar foods Duck gathers from the large stone tables.

Deep sea mer courtship is very goal focused, but up here the custom seems to be unhurried, as much a chance to catch up with friends as find a mate. There’s even dancing, which he’s drawn into when Aubrey coaxes Duck onto the dance floor and the merman offers Indrid his hand. They spin and flit about each other, Indrid initially taking care not to brush him with his tentacles. When it happens on accident and Duck responds by thwacking Indrid back with the tip of his tail, Indrid takes to touching him whenever the dance allows.

Since none of the reef mers swim screaming away from him, he and Duck even join in on the group dances. Indrid shows off, changing colors to match his partner because he catches Duck smiling whenever he does.

The first of Duck’s crushes arrives, though Duck stays, dancing, with Indrid.

“Are you supposed to wait until a certain time to offer your gift?”

“No. I, uh, I’m just a little nervous. I’ve never done the whole courtin thing before.”

“Understandable. Though if you ask me, I’d say you have a great deal to offer.” He nudges him with a tentacle. Duck takes a deep breath, then swims away after the other mer. Indrid hasn’t even made it to the table when Duck is once again beside him, saying they weren’t interested and would Indrid like to keep dancing?

He would, and they do, trading jokes and stories as they turn in slow circles around each other. They alternate between the dance and recharging with their friends until Duck’s other crush swims into view, having gotten to the party rather late. Duck’s approach is more confident, and Indrid encourages him along with the others. After ten or so minutes, Duck catches his eye and gives a thumbs up. Indrid returns the gesture and watches that stunning tail swim away.

Indrid stays, continues talking and eating with his new friends. He’s even approached for courtship twice, demurring both times. It’s not long before he regrets this choice, because his foresight keeps showing him flashes of what Duck is getting up to with his new partner and getting his hands and mouth on another mer might be a welcome distraction. He finishes the last of his meal, waves goodbye to his friends with a promise to come see them again, and swims home alone.

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

Duck hums as he swims over the edge of the trench, carved coral box in hand. Indrid left Dani directions for how to visit him, so Duck’s no longer concerned about swimming into the wrong cave and getting eaten.

The front of the cave is empty, and the scant light still filtering in doesn’t show him much beyond it, so he floats further and calls, “Indrid? You home?”

Red eyes appear in the dark, followed by flashes of pink and yellow, “Duck?”

“Didn’t see me comin?” He grins, swimming up to greet the other mer.

“There were only a few futures where you visited so soon after the party. Is something wrong? Does your new partner need more oysters?”

“Nope, came ‘cause I wanted to see you. Is, uh, is that okay?” Nerves creep up his tail; maybe Indrid was only interested in their exchange yesterday and not in him.

“Of course. I, ah, my lair is rather messy but if you come this way I have some lights.” He motions for Duck to follow him. As they swim deeper into the cave, bioluminescent kelp and algae flicker to life, revealing walls covered in elegant, detailed carvings. They turn left, coming to a room filled with yet more carvings, a large, comfy looking hammock, and a floor scattered with shells.

“You did all these?” Duck touches a lovingly rendered carving of a ray.

“Yes. They help me capture visions from time to time, or are simply images I enjoy.” That same light pink is coursing up through his tentacles and occasionally racing through his hair.

“Oh, that reminds me, here” Duck holds out the box, “seemed like these were your favorite last night, so figured you’d like some more.”

Indrid studies the crab rolls in their neat lines, “Oooh!” His tentacles wiggle, “thank you. That was very sweet of you.” He swims over to a small table, sets the box atop it, and then begins searching a rock shelf. “But I insist you share some of them with me, assuming you don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Uh-”

“Where are those blasted plates-”

Duck rubs the back of his neck, “Indrid? Is, uh, is that a yes or a no?”

The other mer turns, flashing bright blue, “To...oh, oh my, really?”

“Future just tell you I’m courtin you?”

“Yes. I, but I thought you made your choice last night?”

“That ain’t really how this works. I mean, I had a great time last night, might see her again, but I ain’t made any kind of choice about bein exclusive. Besides uh, I, uh, if I’m bein honest, mer I thought the most about last night and today was you.”

“Oh.” Indrid says much more softly as Duck swims to him and brushes his tail along a tentacle.

“It’s okay if you ain’t interested, I can back off and we can have dinnerAHfuck” he laughs as Indrid uses all available limbs to pull him closer with a delighted chirp.

“The answer is very much yes, Duck Newton.”

“Thank fuck” Duck leans in, kissing him eagerly as two tentacles tease up and down his tail.

Then he can’t see a fucking thing and Indrid curses, “Of all the time for my kelpalabra to die. One moment, let me find something so you can see.” He pulls back, red eyes and kaleidoscopic lower half the only thing in Duck’s vision, achingly alluring even as he mutters around the room.

“We, uh, we can keep it like this.”

“You’re certain? I thought you couldn’t see in these conditions.”

“Can see what matters.” Duck opens his arms and Indrid chuckles, swimming into them.

“I’m amazed you were not swarmed by admirers last night.”

“Flatterer” Duck kisses his cheek.

“I am being entirely truthful. You are so charming, and so very handsome…” Indrid strokes his face as his tentacles glide up his chest and down his tail, “mmmm, I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you.”

“How, uh, sensitive are these?” Duck lets one tentacle curl around his fingers, brings it to his mouth for a kiss.

“About the same as my hands, but far more flexible.” Two tease just below his hips, his scales beginning to ripple and part at the stimulation. The surrounding darkness heightens each grope and stroke, his body having little to no warning of where the next touch might come from. His world is nothing but Indrid’s hands and tentacles on his body, that little voice and moonlight smile illuminated by the colors of his affection.

“Fuck, ‘Drid, this is so fuckin nice.”

Indrid hums, pulsing a warm yellow as he coaxes Duck open, kissing his neck and nibbling his ears. Duck winds his fingers into his silver hair, gives a testing tug and gets a moan in reply.

“Again.”

He growls, pulls harder as his cock emerges, scrapes his teeth up Indrid’s neck and discovers that makes him practically scream in delight.

“You wanna be in me, or should I fuck you?”

“Ah, beg pardon?”

“Wait, fuck, do you not have-”

“I have this” smaller tendrils emerge from beneath a fold between his front tentacles, “there isn’t really room for anything to go in, and while I can get some shape from it” he demonstrates by twining three into something close to Duck’s dick, “it is unlikely to be the method you’re used to. My kind mate by sort of, hmm, mushing them together? My, that sounds deeply unattractive when I say it that way.”

Duck licks his lips, “They look pretty damn dexterous.”

Indrid’s eyes glow brighter, “The are.”

“Get over here and show me.”

The other mer comes to him so forcefully they’re propelled back into a wall. Duck barely registers the collision, too busy moaning as tendrils curl around his dick, stroking and sucking so elegantly he’s pretty sure he’s never going to be satisfied with a blowjob again.

Okay, except for one form the mouth currently devouring his own with kisses. Indrid moans and squirms in his arms, tentacle and fingertips caressing him from cheek to tail.

“May, may I try something?” Indrid pants in his ear.

“Long as you don’t stop what you’re already doin, ohfuck,” He bucks his hips as more tendrils push into the slit under his dick, Indrid purring as they do.

“Ohhhhhgoodness, you feel wonderful Duck, please, please say we can do this again?”

“Damn, ain’t even made you cum and you’re already beggin for a next time?” Duck teases, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, pleaseplease” tentacles tighten around him, trapping him against Indrid as the other mer frantically fucks him, “I’ll can make you feel so good, I want to, please”

“Mission fuckin accomplished” Duck yanks on his hair and Indrid yelps with joy, cumming inside him and across his dick. The orgasm makes him lose control of both his colors and his tendrils, meaning he shimmers like the inside of an abalone as tugs and twitches along Duck’s dick. The touches draw his own climax from him with a groan, and he buries his face in Indrid’s neck, mouthing kisses along it as he spills into the water.

Slowly, all tentacles and tendrils relax and withdraw, leaving only Indrid’s arms around him.

“You asleep?” It’s only half a joke, as Indrid is going limp.

‘Mmmhmm. A perfectly wonderful mer just robbed me of all my energy in the best possible way.”

“Heh, funny, most stunnin mer in the ocean did the same to me.” He swims them over to the hammock, guiding them down onto their sides as Indrid looks sleepily up at him.

“In that case, would the wonderful mer like to join me for dinner after we nap?”

Duck kisses his nose, nestles closer as Indrid’s tentacles shift to match his tail, “Yeah, he would.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay #mermay fills

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skullphones · 4 years ago

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Sibling, cousin, and sibling-like headcanons nobody asked for (I’ll include emperor and prince to this list but other than them, the rest of these are purely my own headcanons) extra note: I’m aware the blaster bros exist but I just. don’t have headcanons for them. sorry tammy.

Goggles and Bobble. This is already a pretty popular headcanon, and while I think all of blue team has family dynamics to some extent, these two exude the most sibling like energy. They’re both chaotic as fuck and get into hijinks together. Even though Goggles is the one who tends to get into trouble most of the time, Bobble is always going along with his shenanigans and enables them without question.

Army and W-Sailor. This is mostly taken from a friend, but it is pretty funny to think about the strict older brother and (slightly spoiled) younger sister dynamic. White takes turfing the least seriously in the team, and always gets forced to shape up thanks to Army. Meanwhile she also messes with Army a whole lot, such as disorganizing his stuff to leave him confused, or swapping salt with sugar to make his curry taste sweet.

Forge and B-Sailor. Taken from the same friend as the previous hc. I just really enjoy the idea of two sibling pairs in a team together, though they get along a lot better compared to Army and White. Not really a lot to say except Blue is a lot more laidback and tries to calm Forge down whenever she stresses out too much over something.

Scuba and Octoglasses. Taken from a different friend (yes a lot of these are adopted headcanons). This one actually also involves my OTHER friend’s “Callie is their older sister” headcanon, and as such they’re part cuttlefish, and have those crosshatched eyes. They’re identical twin siblings, with Scuba being trans. They make fun of each other a LOT and it’s endless teasing and taunting and pranks. They do get into arguments sometimes but for the most part they’ll make up pretty quickly.

Mask and Moon. Moon teases Mask a lot but half the time he’s too tired to come up with a witty remark and just gives a “fuck you” in response. Mask honestly isn't a very open person even to Moon, but she’s at least very good at reading him to check if something is bothering him or not. All in all they get along decently well, even if Moon threatens to curse him a lot.

Skull and Paisley (thanks Peri). Again, this leans very VERY heavily into headcanon territory. My interpretation of Pais is very childish and playful, which is somewhat contrasting to Skull’s quiet personality. Skull rarely brings up the fact they’re related—not due to anything personal, but because he just doesn’t think it’s very important. Skull doesn’t really talk to her much apart from turfing strats, and they never really have bonding moments unless Pais specifically asks him to hang out with her, so they’re slightly distant, though them being on the same team has made both more aware of each others personal lives (such as Paisley and Stitch dating).

Gloves and Clip-ons. They’re cousins rather than siblings, but they’re still close and always messing with each other. Even if the teasing is endless, they both agree pulling pranks together is much better than pulling pranks on each other. Rims is the unlucky inkling that gets on the receiving end of most of these.

Emperor and Prince. I don’t think they were that close when Emp was still on the team, but I like to think he tries to connect with Prince once he returns from training. Monarch team will constantly go to the Crust Bucket to pay Emp a visit after battles, and he’s happy to see Prince grow as a leader each time he has a new tale about their most recent battle.

Vintage and Omega. This one’s reason is extremely obvious, just look at them. They both never really had friends growing up, so they always only had each other to talk to. As a result they’re very close and open with each other.

Fierce, Jet, and Justice. Fierce and Jet are biological siblings, while Justice is their adoptive sib. Justice’s actual parents live in the same village as Fierce and Jet’s, but ever since he was assigned to be a Guardian he’s lived on their farm for convenience sake. They each have different roles in helping out in the farm, with Fierce doing the more physically taxing work like chopping wood, Jet taking care of the chickens, and Justice harvesting fruit and veggies.

Fierce is the oldest, so he’s the one who gets to visit Inkopolis the most, though the other two beg him to take them along with him a lot. They also aren’t very “trendy” per se, but rather stick to their own aesthetic, which is why Fierce refuses to wear shoes and Justice doesn’t like taking his helmet off.

Anyway that’s all I have so far, I can explain a bit more for specific ones if you guys want me to, and if you have your own hcs I don't mind hearing them!

#coroika #splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon manga #headcanons #also what I mean for blue team is that they really just seem like one giant family to me #more of in a found family way if you get me

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jeejee-the-snek-boi · 5 years ago

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The Urban Kraken

TMA AU

Tw: mild/moderate horror depending on tastes, drowning, facial distortion/shapeshifting/camouflage

Statement of Logan Sanders, regarding his time as a marine biologist working in Birmingham. Original statement given January 13th, 2012. Audio recording by Janus Dee, Head Archivist of the Thomas Headscape Institute, London.

Statement begins.

I'd recently moved to Birmingham to help out at the National Sea Life Centre. It wasn't particularly an interesting job, or even one appropriate for my level of qualification as a marine biologist, but we'd had reports of some kind of squid spotted in the local canals. There'd been otters and even dolphins who had managed to find their way into canals and rivers that would be outside of their normal habitat, so whilst a squid sounded unusual, to boot, I was naturally curious as to how it had got there. My colleague at the time- a rather very annoying yet charming man called Roman who worked in the gift shop- had warned me not to investigate. I found it… odd, to say the least. He couldn't have known much about marine biology- or, at least, I assumed he didn't, given the fact he was unable to distinguish between a shark plushie or a dolphin one, although perhaps he merely needed glasses.

I, of course, didn't heed his warnings- I had no need to, at the time, of course, although he did seem rather familiar.

It took me a few days to realise that we had the same face, only… he wore it more expressively than I did, and he didn't seem to wear glasses either. I merely assumed it was a coincidence, or some long lost relative, so I didn't give it any thought.

I was working behind the scenes mainly, although I did occasionally try my hand at being a tour guide. I happen to have a special interest in marine life- hence my profession- so I found joy in teaching people about the animals we housed there. The children particularly liked the sharks, which wasn't a surprise to me, although it wasn't uncommon for people to label my commentary as unnecessary and boring- I tried not to let it get to me, of course, although occasionally it did.

On one such day, I found myself going for coffee on my break, where I ran into Roman. I didn't particularly mind his company, although I still found him a little odd. I knew everything about his dreams and ambitions- and he had a lot- but very little about him personally. He would talk for hours about his dreams to make it as an actor, and I gained a fair few insights of his insecurities too- the man seemed riddled with them.

And, whilst I'll admit, none of that is particularly unusual, he'd ask everyone about their families or their kids- he made it a point to learn as much as he could about people and to include those facts in his daily interactions, but we never learned anything about him. Most people where I worked had written him off as shallow and selfish, superficial even, but I suspected differently.

Anyway, Roman and I talked for a number of months, and I still hadn't learned a single thing about his life. I still didn't know why his face was so familiar to me until I found myself people- watching at the gift shop one day, and I noticed that, alone, his features seemed to… shift. I couldn't pinpoint what colours his eyes were, and his skin had taken on an almost… iridescent quality, if that's even the right word for it, as though he had chromatophores. It reminded me of a cuttlefish, or other cephalopod.

I'd put it down to some form of shiny make-up, or perhaps a face mask that he'd forgotten to remove in the morning properly, and it wasn't until a few weeks later and more people watching that I finally noticed what detail I had been missing- his features seemed to shift and change to match those of each customer.

I was alarmed, of course, because there was no logical explanation as to why a human would possess such qualities.

Which… for some strange reason, drew my attention back to the so-called squid in the canals myth that had been circulating for a while now.

There had been some… rumours circulating, asides from the existence of the squid. There'd been a few scattered suicides and cases of drunken misadventure down at the canals, a few dead bodies, all drowned. Some were intoxicated, and almost all were alone- although the time of death wasn't always at night as you might expect for a spate of murders. So, naturally, people started to link the deaths with the squid.

I was curious, and wanted to see the squid for myself, so I spent several days observing the canal. I sat on the benches with my notebook and camera, although apart from the odd family of mallards, or a troublesome Canada goose, there was nothing in the water. I eventually concluded that there wasn't anything in the water, but now I was invested in the mystery.

The deaths were relatively spread apart, although almost all of them had been within the city centre. I observed for longer anyways, deciding instead to people watch- if there was a murderer, the murderer most likely frequented the area, although as more deaths occurred, I found myself struggling to find a connection to any particular person's commute and the times or locations of the murders.

I remembered Roman's odd ability to camouflage, although I knew his commute took him to the other side of the city.

That was… until I saw him down by the canal. He seemed to be talking to the water, so I kept myself hidden behind one of the bridges. He left, and, as far as I'm aware, didn't kill anyone.

I took to following him after work, watching him frequently do the same thing again and again. It was… odd, but he wasn't the murderer. Although, I was beginning to suspect that, if Roman wasn't human, and was some form of… I wouldn't go as far as to call him an aquatic mammal- but sea creature, perhaps, then perhaps he was communicating with the squid.

So the next time I visited, I brought my scuba suit. I must have looked a prat walking through the streets in scuba gear in the middle of an urban area, but I was intent on getting to the bottom of this mystery.

It took several days before I had the courage to jump into the murky water- the amount of waste products thrown into the canals ranged from the odd box to shopping trolleys to knives- and there were a lot of knives in Birmingham- anyway, I wasn't planning to jump in just yet, until I saw a thick tentacle pull Roman into the canal.

I panicked, and dived in. I'd had experience working with squids- it was stupid of me to dive in without chain mail, given how sharp the beak of a squid can be- but I was only thinking about saving my colleague from the canal. I knew how to make the squid let go, and I intended to do that.

I couldn't see very well, but I could make out their shapes, and Roman didn't seem to be having any trouble breathing at all. The squid was half person, like a mermaid- although perhaps a little demented, but they were hugging Roman.

As soon as the squid person- for comedic purposes, I'd named them squidward- noticed my presence, I attempted to swim away, although they grabbed me before I could do so.

I was sure I was going to die, so I squeezed my eyes shut- only to find myself being pulled to the squid person's chest in a hug. It was… strange, to say the least, and awkward. But soon, the squid person let go of me and allowed me to swim away. Roman joined me, although he seemed reluctant to look me in the eye.

I confronted Roman, who explained to me that the squid person was his brother, Remus- or, more accurately, his sort of twin. The two had once been one being, but both had very different desires- Roman wanted to live on land, whilst Remus was content in the water- so they had simply… split, into two.

I asked about the deaths, and Roman explained that Remus didn't understand that humans couldn't breathe in the water. He was lonely, and whenever he saw somebody else lonely, he wanted to hug them. They usually drowned, and Roman didn't have the heart to tell him that they had died.

I… went back, in my scuba suit, and kept Remus company with Roman for the best part of six months- and the deaths diminished greatly. Of course, we couldn't keep it up forever, so we had to find a way to help Remus to understand that humans couldn't breathe. We didn't find a way, so I came up with a solution.

Roman had quite a bit of money saved up, and the two of us had become… close, to say the least, if the evenings spent in his apartment were anything to go by, so we brought ourselves a patch of land up in the Yorkshire Dales, and dug up one of the fields entirely. We made a pool, a deep pool, and I borrowed one of the moving tanks from the aquarium and we transported Remus up to his new home.

He loves it there, content to splash about, and free to hug Roman and I without fear of drowning anyone. And Roman and I managed to hold down our jobs back in Birmingham thanks to rail travel, even if the long commute was taxing, at times, and eventually decided to get married.

I decided to submit my story to the archives to keep a document of the existence of such creatures, and to put word out that they are not harmful and are not to be killed.

My initial reaction would be to discredit this statement as a rather elaborate prank, but nonetheless I had my colleague Virgil do some digging, and he found that Logan Sanders had a doctorate in marine biology from Oxford University. He did work, and still does work, at the Sea Life Centre in Birmingham city centre, and was willing to talk to us again. Virgil requested pictures, which Logan was happy to provide us with, so I had Patton check to see if the photographs are real. Again, the photographs checked out, and Logan and Roman allowed us to visit. After said visit, I can confirm that the squid man, and indeed Roman's cuttlefish-like camouflage, are more than just urban myths.

Recording ends.

@needscaffeine @patton-birdie @sanderssideburns

Anyone can ask to be tagged! Tagging you guys because

1. Mutual

2. I sent an anon ask and you said I could tag you!

3. Bae

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chibi-pix · 5 years ago

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VLD AU - That’s Not Pidge!

@a-haunted-sock thank you very much for inspiring this next one. I got it done sooner than I expected.

Writing and illustrations alike! Here’s another addition to the giant mermaid!Pidge AU. Word count: 2,720 words. I’ll put it in the “keep reading” section below.

As a note, later we see “<speech like this>”, that means they’re in another language. Rather than fussing with translations or coming up with another language, I like to use that form to show different languages, especially of fantasy languages. Enjoy!

There were hardly any times where Lance feared the ocean. The first time was after playing video games. He learned from one specific game that the ocean was indeed a frightening place with the high probability of so many different creatures wanting to kill you. But he also understood that it was in their nature and they just hunted prey. Once he got over that, he respected the ocean more deeply, no pun intended on his part, and loved how natural and mysterious it was. Far into the depths rested a great mystery, one humans could only daydream and ponder about. It was strange, really, that people knew more about other planets and stars than they did their own oceans.

The second time he felt fear about the ocean was when he met Pidge. Yes, she startled him at first, but that was reasonable. She was much larger than he was, the boy able to comfortably fit in the palm of her hand; using both hands, she could safely encase him in webbed prison. He felt very thankful that day that she had no intention of eating him, but rather she was curious. A strange creature that didn’t look like it belonged to the ocean, a creature she had seen come and gone… and many who never returned to the shore. At least not breathing. But what scared him more was her comment. She had a family, as well as he hoped she did so that she would not be lonely, but that wasn’t the scary part. What was was that from what he understood, she was a runt. Smaller than average.

At the same age Pidge was, however young or old that was, Pidge’s older brother was larger. Much larger from what Lance could ascertain. THAT was what frightened the poor boy. Not that anyone could blame him. Lance had spent plenty of time studying creatures of the ocean, at least the known ones. He made comparisons and he knew that Pidge was of a carnivorous race, or at least mostly carnivorous. Her teeth sharp, meant for tearing into flesh. Thinking of that, the mysteries of behemoths of the sea washing up with massive bites bitten out of them was less mysterious and almost terrifying. But that was nature.

And nature was something Lance loved and respected.

Fear. Respect. Love.

And knowing Pidge always helped to draw him back out, whether he was joined by Hunk and Keith, his best friends and the only people he talked about Pidge with, even going as far as to introduce them, or he went out on his own; he just had to be careful of mother nature deciding what days were perfect days for storms despite what meteorologists thought they knew.

Or at least he thought that was really all he had to be careful of as he went out to the middle of the ocean, nearing what he mentally called Pidge’s territory.

Setting his electromagnetic anchor so his boat wouldn’t drift away, Lance dove into the water, eager to swim with Pidge. Perhaps this was a day she would take him deeper. His suit and gear may have seemed minimal compared to what divers used to use, but it was definitely more advanced and allowed safer, deeper dives. He hoped to sneak out his uncle’s prototypes one day to test with Pidge, trusting that she would protect him and safely get him back to the surface if something went wrong.

Lance kept swimming downward, easily getting down to the dysphotic zone. He spent so much time in that level under the surface, it was in such an area that Pidge and he originally met. He went further, reaching about six hundred meters. Now that wasn’t the deepest part of the ocean, that was know, but it was far enough for Lance.

Okay, Pidge, now… where are you? He thought to himself, the voice in his head taking on a playful tone. It was sometimes like playing hide and seek with the massive mermaid; she had a way of remaining hidden. Perhaps it was the fact that people couldn’t see clearly in the ocean water naturally? Or maybe it really was magic? Science was also a plausible thing, she could be able to adjust her colour as needed like a cuttlefish. Hunk would love that idea; as bright as the mechanic was, he’d probably giggle and say it sounded like cuddle and made them sound pleasant. That thought made the diver chuckle to himself.

Lance saw movement in the distance. He recognized the wavy motion and figure. Pidge! He thought, his mental voice sounding a bit too excited than he expected. Oh thank goodness Allura wasn’t there to hear his thoughts, she would tease him about having a crush, as any good relative did. Annoying, but he knew she loved him and teasing was a good sign of that. He just wished she didn’t hit close to home when she would joke that the only girlfriend he’d probably get would be a fish. In reality, Pidge technically was a fish, right?

He really wasn’t sure. She could breathe air like a mammal but she also breathed through her gills like a fish. And he wasn’t about to get too personal and awkward and ask her about mating or anything like that. Nope! Too soon! Maybe never.

Shaking his head, Lance pushed those thoughts away. He then looked. Wait. Pidge wasn’t there. Okay. She may have been playing. Smirking behind his mask, he looked around. Behind him? Above him? Below him? He checked every bit, trying to locate Pidge. Can’t sneak up on me, Pidge. He playfully thought. He heard a sound, even through the water. Behind him. Spinning around, he could see the figure again as it neared.

Huh? He thought. Wait a moment… that… that isn’t Pidge… that one is… bigger?! His eyes widened. Oh quiznak! And worse yet, it was speeding toward him. Before it could reach, a set of hands came up from under him, startling him as he was suddenly cupped and pulled into a familiar surface. Wait… this is Pidge who has me! He thought in alarm. But… who was that? A family member?

Pidge pulled Lance in close, protecting him between her hands and chest. She made a sound, something akin to a snarl as a larger creature swam around her, sniffing at her and checking her over. From inside his safe zone, Lance couldn’t understand what was said when the other spoke. Not that he couldn’t hear them, but rather they spoke a different language.

“<Pidge! What is the meaning of this? Is this why you’ve refused to come home?>” the larger creature, a merman, inquired, settling his movements. He sniffed again. “<What even is that thing? It doesn’t belong out here.>” He grabbed for Pidge’s wrist, making a move to pry her hand away from its protective position. Pidge didn’t budge, she refused to let anything or anyone hurt Lance, especially while he was in the ocean and she was near enough to protect him. “<Pidge, show me.>” That wasn’t curiosity in his voice; he was being protective of the much smaller mermaid.

“<No, you’ll try to hurt him. Or worse, eat him. He’s not food.>” Pidge snarled, using her tail to smack away his hand. She tried to swim off, but the other got around her again. Curse being the runt. “<Leave us alone, Matt.>”

“<Pidge, whatever it is you’re doing, it’s dangerous. Being so close to the surface...>” the other started to say, concern now softening, showing a gentler side of his protectiveness.

“<I keep hidden… they aren’t able to detect me, Matt.>” Pidge spoke softly.

“<Aren’t able… this one was in your zone, near your cave!>” the other, Matt, reminded. “<And how can you be so sure they aren’t able to detect you? Pidge...>”

Pidge turned, showing Matt her back. She then pulled her hands out a bit to check on Lance. Still there. Still alive. Still fine. But he did seem rather scared. Before Matt could check, she pulled her hands back, keeping him hidden.

“<Pidge, this is a being of the surface, isn’t it? By the depths… you know what Dad always told us!>” Matt raised his voice. He then moved in closer, nuzzling his sister. “<Please… please stop this… come home. I don’t want you hurt…>”

Pidge sighed, her shoulders relaxing and the ridge along her back, which she didn’t realize had gone stiff, softened, swaying again with the movement of the water around them. “<I know… but I like it up here. It’s been fun and I’ve been safe. I’ve also been able to help others.>” She looked to Matt. “<A sky-ship went down. They call them planes. Its captain was still alive; because I freed him and got him back to the surface, he’s still alive. People are happy.>” She looked down to her hands again. “<He told me so. I trust him. He’s done nothing but been kind and trust me… And I trust him.>”

Matt sighed. He knew his sister better than he knew his own fins. She was as stubborn as she was curious. But she also knew how to see the good in others. She wasn’t naïve, she didn’t openly trust others. But she could tell when someone truly meant no harm to her.

“<I promise, I won’t eat this… thing. Whatever it is you have.>” Matt assured. “<So… will you at least show me?>”

Pidge grumbled before looking down. She pulled her hands away, but further cupped them, keeping Lance safe. She brought them up and whispered into them, this time speaking in a way Lance would understand her. “My brother wishes to meet you; he promised he won’t eat you and I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything to bring you any harm.” she spoke so softly, but Lance could understand her easily. “Do you wish to meet him?”

Meet her brother!? Lance’s eyes widened. This thing that probably originally intended to eat him? He relaxed, though. Pidge said she wouldn’t let her brother hurt him and he trusted her. He then gently placed his hand on her lip that he had access to with her hands slightly parted. Soft. Hiding dangerously sharp teeth. But he wasn’t scared. He then tapped her lip a bit, talking in his own way to her.

Okay, let’s meet big brother. He thought. He heard Pidge sigh; he could tell she was worried about him, but he trusted her to help keep him safe.

Pidge pulled her hands down and opened them up, showing Lance there, sitting on both of them. Matt went in closer to see him, but the older, larger merman pulled back when Pidge snarled at him; the sound startled Lance.

Wow! She can sound aggressive! The human thought, both unnerved and amazed. But she’s definitely making sure he does nothing, huh?

“Well,” Pidge mumbled, “Lance, this is Matt. Matt, this is Lance.”

Matt eyed Lance, seeming to evaluate him. This thing was something Pidge wanted to protect? It may have been tiny, but he heard stories and knew this sort of creature could be a potential threat. What if he blabbed to the others of his species about Pidge? What if they decide to capture her? Experiment on her? Keep her in a little cage?

Kill her?

“<How can you trust this thing? Pidge...>” Matt muttered. “<Surface beings are dangerous creatures...>”

Lance blinked. Matt definitely wasn’t speaking a language he knew. Odds were, it wasn’t even a language any human knew; hearing it, he really questioned when, where, and how Pidge learned to speak his language and completely bypassed the awkward moments of the language barrier.

Pidge grumbled under her breath. “They aren’t all the same, Matt.” she said, speaking so Lance could understand her. “I’ve met a few.”

“<A few? And why aren’t you using the ocean’s language?>” Matt gave a quizzical look, trying to comprehend his sister and her actions.

“Because Lance doesn’t understand it, and yes! A few!” Pidge huffed, blowing bubbles from her mouth. “Lance’s friends; they’re my friends, too. Keith and Hunk are very nice. Even...” She giggled a bit. “Hunk passed out when we first met. He was scared. And Keith got so excited, he spooked me.” She looked happy at that memory. Hearing her, even Lance was amused. That was an interesting day. “Look, Matt, you don’t know them like I do. And it’s not like I’m out there for everyone to find me, befriending every human I meet. I’m careful.” She gently scooted Lance over to just one hand and used the other to gently poke him. Lance seemed to chuckle, a few extra bubbles going off from breathing mask.

Matt raised an eyebrow before carefully grabbing Pidge’s wrist. He leaned in to get a better look at Lance, examining him more closely. “He makes himself too comfortable here...”

“Because he’s my friend and knows I won’t hurt him.” Pidge deadpanned, pulling her tail up and swatting Matt’s face with it, getting him to let go. “And if you must know,” she moved her hand to her head, letting Lance go there to hold onto her hair, “yes, I allow him in my cave to see my collection.” She swam off a bit, but Matt decided to follow. “What can I tell you to convince you?”

“Hmm...” Matt grumbled. “Look, if I find a scratch on you that isn’t from some other predator of the oceans...”

“Don’t go threatening him, Matt.” Pidge stated. She looked up. “We’re clear. Lance, I’m going to return you to your boat, okay? I’ll make sure Matt doesn’t sink it.” Lance pressed on Pidge’s head, silently acknowledging what she said. “And Matt, you better behave yourself.” she snarled at her brother. She went up and broke the water’s surface near Lance’s boat. She went over and put her head near, letting Lance get on board and remove his mask. “Sorry about Matt.” She looked back, seeing him surface just enough to show his eyes. “He’s a bit protective of me; our parents have told us old stories. But those stories didn’t come from this era. And they never met you, Hunk, or Keith.”

“It’s fine and understandable.” Lance assured.

“I hope… this doesn’t scare you off.” Pidge’s ears twitched downward.

“It doesn’t.” Lance shook his head. “See you next week? I’m spending the week helping out at AARC. And helping Keith with his blog… Man, how’d I rope myself into that one.” He shook his head. “Anyway, we can meet in a week, right? Maybe any other days when I have time off?”

“I’d like that!” Pidge exclaimed, looking excited.

“Maybe I can convince the others I’ll be out on a camping trip, then we can watch the stars together.” Lance suggested. He grinned when Pidge’s ears twitched happily. “I’ll see you next week then. Or sooner.” He then looked to Matt. “Nice meeting you, Matt. Hopefully we can get along one day.” He yelped when Matt’s tail came up and splashed water at him, his boat, and Pidge; thankfully it wasn’t enough to sink the boat. Matt huffed before diving back down.

“I’m sure he’ll behave.” Pidge assured.

“But he doesn’t like me.” Lance chuckled.

“He doesn’t like you, yeah.” Pidge confirmed.

“Eh, family. Should’ve seen Marco and Veronica when Luis brought home his then-girlfriend for the first time. They got protective.” Lance shrugged. “But they warmed up to Lisa. I’m sure Matt will warm up to me, too. Just gotta give it time and be patient.”

“Yeah.” Pidge nodded. “Anyway, safe sailing. See you another time.” She nodded before diving down to join her brother, most likely give him a stern talking too.

Lance smiled, watching as Pidge disappeared into the waters. He then deactivated the anchor and sailed back to the AARC base, his mind dwelling on what he told Pidge as a blush came to his cheeks. “I just compared me meeting Matt to the family meeting Lisa, didn’t I?” he sighed. “Oh boy… but..” He shook his head. “Meeting Matt was a bit scary. I think I’d be terrified to meet their parents if Matt was THAT MUCH BIGGER than Pidge. Wow...” He then nodded, focusing his mind on getting back home.

Well, I hope you guys enjoyed this one. As an added note, I knew Matt was bigger than his sister, but even I was impressed with what my mind came up with when I doodled Matt looking around Pidge. Whew!

#Pidge #Pidge Gunderson #Katie Holt #Matt Holt #Lance #mermaid pidge #mermaid katie holt #merman matt holt #mer!matt holt #mer!Pidge #mer pidge #giant mermaid #giant mermaid pidge #giant merman matt #matt is massive #VLD #Voltron legendary defender #alternate universe #i love when people inspire me

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subjectsix · 4 years ago

Note

🎠 🎨 🧱?

ask game

🎠 - if you’re comfortable, recall a dream that made you feel like everything was going to be alright.

OH OKAY I had one recently!!! And it was narrative but just enough nonsensical in that sort of dream way, but it made me feel really cozy and happy when I woke up??? I dreamt that I would go to this heavily themed restaurant all the time, like the kind that are outside of amusement parks and have their own giftshops and little attractions inside. And one of the things they had was a live band! And in my dream, androids with very good AI were common, and one of the days I went to hang out there, they had an android (who looked just like 80s Stewart Copeland from The Police???? bc he was like... for a coverband for The Police I guess?) who was filling in for the drummer, and spotted a patch I had on my jacket and started talking to me about it and asking me if I played any instruments and stuff. From then on we became good friends and I’d come visit him and we’d talk about whatever. On the last day I came back, I took my family to see some of the attractions in the place and to meet my new friend, buthe was nowhere to be found and nobody knew where he went. He left me a pile of gifts with a stickynote with a smile on it on top-- the gifts were a couple of wrapped boxes (I never opened them) and a little tiny tank with a cuttlefish in it (????). And I spent the rest of that night kind wondering where he was and hoping he was alright and holding my gifts close. Then we all drove home and I was in the backseat, and a green thunderstorm (like, green sky and green lightning) started to happen. I had all my gifts pulled close to me and I started looking for my android friend on twitter, hoping I could find him and get in touch so we could hang out again. The whole dream was super cinematic, and when I woke up I felt really happy (and made some OCs based on the whole thing)

🎨 - what color or color(s) do you feel describes you? why?

I think greens, yellows, and blues? I’m also a fan of grey and brown! I really like saturated yellows, and just about any shade of green, esp foresty ones or real saturated ones. Blue in general is just awesome.

🧱 - what do you feel like your foundation is? how long has it been steady? are you still building it?

I know this is like the “token Christian answer”, but my foundation genuinely is God-- he’s carried and been growing me through so much, and its so like... comforting to know I can rest in him even when I’m worried or anxious or grieving or confused or anything. It’s definitely still being built in the sense that I’m still growing and learning akjdfhadkjfh. A few years ago I really dealt with grief for the first time, and while it hurt like grief does, especially since I’d never been through anything like that before, also felt a lot of peace I can’t really explain? As in like-- I definitely was still grieving and hurting and feeling that whole gambit of emotions, but while still feeling those there was an underlying feeling of it’s okay that I’m really thankful for. I definitely grew closer to God in the whole experience

#coffee talks #ask game #thatfriendlyanon

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psychicscavenger · 6 years ago

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Sea Witch (Shance MerMay 2019)

another drabble for my series Making Waves and Turning Tides. Series was inspired by @justshance‘s Mermay prompts for 2019, written for @shancemermay and fellow shance and mermaid fans in general.

Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, some plot, conspiracy, pining, fairy tale elements, little mermaid elements, AU

After having to watch that disgusting display of emotions, Lotor sank into the depths of the abyss, welcoming the feeling of darkness as well as the increasing pressure allowing his gills to breathe in and out gently. The wonderful air flowing through and cleaning out the salty air from above surface left him feeling more relaxed but he was still on edge hoping his plan would work.

Lotor continued to swim down, the light from the surface fading away until he was swallowed up by the void, circling around him with only his senses to guide him past other mers who lingered around the abyss, usually nowhere to go with other unsavory creatures who liked to lurk in the deep. Lotor located his cave quickly, quietly slipping into the vast cavern, easily avoiding the fluttering cuttlefish his mother liked to experiment on. He cool called out a greeting towards the witch, sliding against a rock and parking himself there, unfurling his tentacles to stretch as the witch, his mother Honerva, approached.

"Lotor have you spoken with the fish noble's son?" A raspy voice called from behind the seaweed curtain. Lotor hummed, meticulously cleaning a tentacle sucker, making sure no remnants of fish scales were stuck underneath before casually replying, "Yes I have. The silly little brat took the deal and he's now off frolicking on the dry lands with the king. We'll be ruling this pathetic ocean soon Mother. That damned Queen Allura was a fool to reject me as a potential mate and to cast you from her palace with your talents! A true disgrace for a monarch in my opinion." Lotor huffed as his mother oozed from the shadows, pulling back the weeds to expose her curling tentacles floating around her as she glided over to her son.

"Just remember the plan. Once that noble gets a taste of what he wants, you'll draw him back and make him hold up his part of the deal. We need that trident if we want to take over the ocean." She spoke, every word punctuated harshly through the murky water Lotor would twitch every time she spoke.

"And what happens if he refuses or doesn't get a hold of it? Lance is divine looks wise but he's not all that brilliant upstairs." Lotor mocked snickering at the image of the mer earlier, acting all flustered and squeamish when the two humans approached him.

"That I'll leave to you dear son. Consider it a gift for helping me this far. It's taken years to find the right someone to help take down the queen but now I have high hopes that we'll be taking over not one but two kingdoms if all goes well." Honerva spoke heading over to a cavern rock that held some valuable objects to her. It was piled with bones, some mers, some regular fish. She even had a collection of shark teeth in a jar as well las several jars of glowing substances, Lotor would rather not ask what those were about.

Honerva pulled out a dusty broken mirror, so old it was rotted in the handle area, bits of algae and mold growing on the reflective portion which Honerva wiped away, repeating a few mumbled phrases unintelligible until the mirror glowed and soon Lotor was watching Lance in the mirror.

"This way we'll keep an eye on the boy, measure his progress with the humans." Honerva stated watching as Lance was currently having a battle with a few humans over the proper way to wear what the humans called pants. Lotor furrowed his brows watching the spectacle as he leaned back, crossing his arms with impatience.

"How long will this take do you think?" He asked getting annoyed upon seeing the human king enter the room and calmly remediating the situation, hands lingering upon Lance's waist with Lance flushing immediately.

"Not long, humans are easily predictable and are often like the very fish they hunt and eat. Place something shiny and new in front of them, and they'll snatch up the bait pretty easily." Honerva explained smirking upon seeing the matching blushing expressions between Lance and the human king.

"Sometimes too easily." She grinned.

****

Lance wasn't normally materialistic, sure he was a mermaid, he hoarded a fair bit of treasure that many humans have dropped into the ocean, and he liked to keep his scales cleaner and shinier than his family or friends in the shoal, but compared to having a big, fluffy cushion all to himself, not having to share with his sisters, brothers, niece and nephew, he knew he could never go back to his old life.

"It's so big and bouncy! Beds are so cool!" He moaned, spreading his arms and legs over and over on the vast space, the long sleep shirt he was given rising up just a tad bit, exposing more and more of his upper thighs that had Shiro coughing and glancing away out of respect for his guest, and to keep himself in check.

"Yeah they are..also I just want you to know that you are welcome to stay here as long as you like even if you're finished recovering, I'm afraid to admit, but living on the far coast we don't see too many visitors." Shiro explained a small smile appearing on his face as Lance sat up tilting his head just so in that adorable curious way he's done all day.

"Do I get to use the bed still?" Lance asked which had Shiro chuckling. "Yes, you can use the bed as long as you want." Lance sighed happily flopping back over much to Shiro's amusement as Lance flipped over and snuggled into the sheets.

"Thank Goddess, I never want to leave ever again. You are my treasure now." Lance reached up patting a pillow as Shiro held back a giggle about to head out into the hall.

"If you need anything, I'm sure any of the kind people working here can attend to your needs, I'll be up as well as I'm not much of a sleeper, my rooms not too far down the hall. If you can't find someone, just come find me." Shiro stated turning to head out when Lance shot up, shouting "Wait!"

Shiro froze, unsure what was wrong until he suddenly found a sturdy presence pressing into his front side, arms wrapped around his middle and nearly hanging off of him(Lance still hadn't been able to get his legs to work properly like the humans, Shiro was currently in the process of finding the man a wheelchair to use in the meantime), his face pressed into Shiro's shirt, inhaling deeply as he spoke.

"Goodnight Shiro. I'm glad I met you, you were definetly worth it." Lance sighed happily unaware of the blushing flustered mess Shiro had become.

At first he wasn't sure what to say to something like that. It was definetly a little odd for a goodnight even if the man was very obviously appreciative of Shiro's hospitality, although it was expressed in such a strange way it had Shiro wanting to seek out answers to this puzzle.

But first, bed time.

Eventually, Shiro hugged him back, a little less tighter than Lance's but happy to return the affection in some way, whispering goodnight to Lance before gently coaxing him back to bed, maybe spending a bit too much time tucking him in but he reminded himself, or rather, tried to convince, that he was simply being extra cautious since the man was injured. They still haven't been able to get any solid information such as who he was or where he came from, but he was ultimately deemed not a threat and welcomed by the castle staff and guards alike.

All except for Keith that is.

Keith was friendly, in his own strange way. He obviously cared for others who mattered to him and Shiro's second-in-command for a reason.

His people skills..need work on the other hand.

Since Lance has been invited to the castle, Shiro had found the two bickering several times and Lance had only been there for four hours. Keith didn't trust strangers so easily and was incredibly suspicious of Lance, Shiro didn't really blame him either because Lance did some..very weird things. Like tonight's dinner fiasco.

As Shiro slipped away from Lance's bedroom, trying to get Lance's soft sleepy smile out of his head, he almost groaned at the memory of Lance's first dinner experience in the castle and how..not great it turned out. Apparently salad was too confusing of a dish to explain to Lance so he didn't eat it. The main course, some kind of lobster bisque, had insulted Lance, and in the end the only thing he liked was bread that he referred to as a beige sea sponge. Then Keith got involved...

"Shiro I need to talk to you." Shiro flinched, finding himself suddenly face to face with the very angry person he was thinking off.

"Good because I think we need to sign you up for more etiquette lessons." Shiro teased amused as Keith's face bloomed in embarrassment before he turned away huffing, with Shiro following.

"Lance started it, he was acting so weird! All I simply said was, the fork isn't to comb your hair and he yelled at me! He got mad because I wouldn't let him comb his hair with a fork Shiro, a fork, thats weird." Shiro sighed in response, understanding somewhat.

"Keith what you said was and I quote; 'Hey idiot, that's not how a fork works,' and glared at him until he stopped. I don't blame him for getting upset to be honest." Shiro shrugged it off, turning away towards his room when Keith jumped in front of him again.

"Still, how does someone his age not know how to use a fork? He looked like he had never seen one before Shiro! He's been looking at everything like that He got excited sitting in a chair Shiro. A chair. Don't you think that's a little suspicious at all? What if he's planning something?" Keith asked urgently to which Shiro sighed, aware that Keith tended to think towards the negative and conspiratorial side of things.

"Well, it's strange but I'm actually starting to guess the poor guy hit his head so hard he may have amnesia. It explain's why he can't remember how to use the most basic of human tasks. That or something really bad happened to him, we'll just have to find out and by doing that, he'll have to stay here, got it?" Shiro asked gently to which Keith nodded, obviously disgruntled with the idea.

"Fine but I don't like this." He griped trodding behind Shiro heading off towards his own room as Shiro just about closed his door, a few guards posted outside in case of any emergency.

"Okay MOM. Goodnight." Shiro held back a giggle when Keith made a face, waving him off as his version of 'goodnight' before Shiro shut his door getting ready for bed and a small part of him excited and intrigued to get to know his blue eyed guest.

#shance #shance mermay 2019 #lance is in love with beds #partcularly big beds he doesnt have to share #unless he wa ssharing with shiro of course

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fluidityandgiggles · 6 years ago

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Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 7

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 5, Last Chapter

Writing Masterlist - for previous chapters not otherwise linked, Read on AO3

Notes (I guess): I decided to post this earlier than usual, both in honor of fanfic writer appreciation day and because I finished writing this one yesterday, and I was going to schedule it, and just not worry about anything... and then there was a power shortage and as I’m was writing this, on Tuesday, I had to rely on my phone to provide me with wifi. God bless... (Well, I have wifi now, don’t I?)

I just thought that after all the angst of the last two chapters you’d appreciate a bit of sweetness, and where this chapter started almost as harshly as the last two, it’s just. So sweet. And fluffy. And I feel so happy that I managed to do such a thing. Well... that and prove to the world that I’m a massive nerd. (If you really want to know, some of Emile’s rants in this chapters are based on actual answers I gave in my finals. And those of you who know me well enough know that I studied theatre in high school...)

Thanks and credits go to @broadwaytheanimatedseries for the initial idea (and for being there to listen and talk about ideas with when we hang out, which happens a lot more lately actually), to @whatwashernameagain the absolute angel for Keep Him Safe and for being incredibly awesome (and for the German translation of one of my favorite quotes ever), to @anony-phangirl and @asleepybisexual for their usual contributions that shall never go un-thank-ed and uncredited, and a special one to @winglessnymph who is the person and inspiration behind a good chunk of Emile’s background and who, after showing them a screenshot of this chapter, just said “my old high school can burn, but yes at least Emile survived”.

Tag list (sort of): @bunny222, @ab-artist, @secretlyanxiouspersona, @your-username-is-unavailable, @virgilcrofters, @why-things-go-boom, @ilovemygaydad, @violetblossem

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter in particular also has mentions of alcohol and drug use.

—————

"But I want you to come!"

"Leah, sweetie, I can't come. I'm going to Emile's. But I'll see you sooner than you think, okay?"

"Okay… but it's not going to be fun. Rachel is two and she's boring and I don't like Mom."

Leah called every day after school. Remy could've been in a class, or at a group meeting, or taking a shower, and she would call every day after school. It was somewhat adorable.

But now was no time to deal with adorable.

"Emile, my darling, my precious, my sweet sweet love," Remy declared at the beginning of their morning sols 20 class last Monday, "can I come over for thanksgiving?"

"Didn't you say you have to see your mom?" Emile whispered over his cup of tea, struggling to get comfortable. The weather got extremely cold lately, and at thirty-six degrees at eight in the morning, not even the four layers and giant thermos full of tea could keep Emile warm enough to survive morning classes.

India literally asked him if he's not supposed to be used to such temperatures, which earned her a lecture on hypersensitivity and illness caused by stress.

"But it's Linda! Emile, babe, sweetheart, darling, dollface—"

"Don't call me bubbeleh and I'll consider it."

"It'll be worth it. I promise—"

"I need to ask my mom, and my sister is coming to pick me up because I'm kinda scared of flights, and Minnesota is kind of far away."

"Alright. I don't mind."

He really hoped Nathalie would agree.

"I don't want to be here alone," Leah half-whined.

"I know, babe, but it won't be long. Trust me."

He let her talk about school for a good while more, at least until he could hear Linda screaming at her to stop holding the line. It was horrifying. He didn't remember her doing it much.

Then again, she was barely home anyway.

The call disconnected rather quickly, right on time for his appointment at the psych clinic. The grad student who claimed Remy as his personal project was supervised today by the head of the department, as part of his research, which meant Remy had to be on his best behavior.

It also meant he'd get misgendered. Which was a thing said student, whose thesis was on gender dysphoria and gender identity (same subject as his big project for AP psychology back at Bronx Science, really), made sure to not do.

This was going to be fun.

——

"You went to the Bronx High School of Science, right?"

"Yeah? Gurl, why you asking me? I told you that already."

"A 4.0 GPA, went to a gifted program in Columbia—"

"Why are you asking me questions you already know the answer to?"

"Dr. Freeman wanted to hear those for himself," Remy heard the guy - Michael, his name is Michael, stop calling him "the guy" - mutter to himself as he typed away on his laptop.

"What makes you think that you're a boy, Miss Harris?" The doctor asked, pushing his glasses up. What a prick…

"Well, considering how I was quite literally diagnosed with gender identity disorder by a licensed psychiatrist, I don't think I am. I know I am."

"And yet, you've enrolled into Harvard under the name Rebecca. Is there any explanation as to why?" Freeman looked directly at Remy. "You're an intelligent young person, and enrolling under your preferred—"

"I didn't know I could do it, and now I have, like, no idea how to change it in administration."

"Biologically speaking, Mr. Harris, the concept of sex is very non-binary." The older man's gravelly voice seemed to chill even Michael, still taking notes. Suddenly he didn't seem so evil.

"First of all," Dr. Freeman said, "in sexual species, you can have female be XX and males just be X. For example, in insects. Female birds are ZW and males are ZZ, for reptiles it's temperature differences that female or male make. In some flatworms it's a penis fencing competition. Some fish like clownfish and parrotfish can have females become males because there are no males left, and the New Mexico whiptail lizards are a female-only species who reproduce asexually. Some species, like cuttlefish, have males act like females in order to get close to the females. And fungi have thousands of sexes. And that's not even getting close to humanity."

The doctor cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. "You can be male because you were born female but have a 5 alpha-reductase deficiency, and so you develop a penis in puberty. You can be female because you were born with XY chromosomes but you're insensitive to androgens, or because your Y is missing the SRY gene, both of which would result in developing a female figure. You can be male because you were born with two XX chromosomes but one of them does have the SRY gene. You can be male by having two X chromosomes and one Y, or a female by having only one X chromosome. And you can be male or female by being born in the wrong body for your brain.

"As I said, there is no such thing as two biological sexes only. So I'll ask you this again. Why would you enroll as a female named Rebecca if you know that you are neither?"

Remy had no idea how to respond. The professor looked at him, straight at him, and Michael kept typing away…

"...I told you, I had no idea I could do that."

"I'll write you a note to give to Vivian in administration. She'll take care of everything, you just need to provide her with a name."

"It's Remy—"

"I hope you understand that this isn't legal, it's only official. I don't have a doctorate in psychology just to explain what's the difference between the two to my students."

Remy nodded nervously, swallowing air. "Yes sir."

——

"Your suite is so much more comfortable than mine," Emile wiggled on the couch, petting his bunny, as Remy was making him a cup of tea. "You can… clearly see Leah was here."

"The marks on the wall? Yeah… she brought her scooter with her and wouldn't stop running into the wall with it."

Emile giggled - how much cuter could this boy get? - and scratched Mycroft's head a bit. "I asked my mom and, yeah, my grandparents and my uncle and his family are coming over, so it wouldn't be that much of an issue if you came over, but…"

"But?"

"We're having thanksgiving at my grandparents' on my dad's side. So it might be a bit of an issue. I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. It's okay, we didn't plan for this or whatever. I'll watch over Leah and you take care around your family, okay?"

"Okay. Have fun with her. She'll really need it."

"I know and I'm willing to suffer for that."

The kettle started whistling. Remy filled the mug with the boiling water and took it to Emile.

Just yesterday Emile screamed "I waited five minutes and the weather didn't change, get your shit together, Boston" at the sky when it started to snow. It wasn't even that much, Remy had seen bigger storms and he was sure that Emile did too - he was from Minnesota, after all - but it was still somewhat funny. After asking, Emile explained that in Minnesota, and basically all around the Midwest, "if you don't like the weather, just wait five minutes".

Remy didn't think he meant it literally. He probably didn't.

"How's India doing?"

"Midterms."

"Cool."

Emile was muttering something to himself in a language Remy didn't understand. He let Mycroft go and the bunny just sat there, on the couch, looking happy enough.

"Hey Remy, what's the Hebrew word for thanksgiving?"

"...I'm a Christian from New Jersey. Why are you asking me?"

"I don't… I don't know. My parents are expecting me to call my cousins before thanksgiving and they don't know English or Dutch yet… not that I know that much Dutch either, but… wait, you're from New Jersey? I thought you're from Manhattan."

"Only since I was five."

"Oh. Cool."

Remy moves the bunny and sat down next to Emile, who leaned against his side and put his head on his shoulder. His hair was incredibly soft, Remy was never quite able to stop running his fingers through it, and the whole situation just… made Remy feel like everything was going to be okay. Just… don't move from this spot, where the his adorable, tiny friend was cuddling up to him and muttering to himself in a different language, and everything will be alright.

His hair smelled like jasmine and seawater. And Remy was torn between admitting to himself just how much he liked it, and wondering if Chris would be jealous.

"You went on a date, right?" Emile raised his head, his hair tickling Remy. "I just…"

"Yeah, I did." And it was a bit better than Halloween. Chris was… way more interesting when not in parties, apparently. For one, he did not talk about his crush on Harrison Ford, and he did talk quite a bit but at least it was about law school and not Indiana Jones. It was… it was great.

"Huh… that's nice." And then, "a friend once asked me on a date. I had to say no."

"Why? Was something so wrong that—"

"No… I like that guy, but… he's the same guy who always paid me to bake weed brownies for him and his friends, and that's not very appropriate, right?"

He had to do a double take. "Weed brownies?!"

"Yeah… my school was the druggie school, you know?"

"No… I didn't know."

"Yeah… it's not like my parents couldn't afford to send me where my sister went, but they were worried about how the stress would affect me so I went to a public school. And… at least I only ever sneaked vodka in water bottles and baked weed brownies, I never, like… held someone's hair out of their face in the bathroom or had to keep someone from killing themselves, which now that I say it out loud just sounds so bad and I totally would've done it if I had to but—"

"Emile, babe, you're making me worry. Like, really."

"Sorry… I never ate weed brownies, though. I'm sensitive to weed."

This… this was the thing that baffled Remy about Emile. This… tiny, pure, angelic thing, with the soft hair that always smelled like jasmine and seawater and the bright, sparkling eyes. His soft little friend whose sunny disposition never faltered, not even in the darkest of times, and whose dedication and determination shone through everything he did.

Emile Picani, the sweetest human Remy ever met, was used to sneaking vodka into school and baking weed brownies.

Fuck.

"How do you even find out that you're sensitive to weed if you don't, like, smoke weed or whatever?"

"You have to decarboxylate the weed to activate it, which basically means heating it up, and the smell gives me migraines, so… that's how I found out."

Yeah, because that's so much better.

"But I mean, good riddance. Can we watch Mulan? I want to do something…"

"Aren't you reading that Sartre thing?"

"No Exit? I already finished it." Emile sipped on his tea. "I don't… get it? I can see why Estelle and Garcin will never achieve an epiphany, but Ines came in already aware that she's amoral… can't she just… leave Hell?"

Gilliam gave the class an optional assignment, to read and analyze No Exit by Jean-Paul Sartre. It wasn't even going to go into their final grade, but he did say that it might be very important to the next semester when they study Freud ("and how he almost ruined the entire field of psychology, more or less"), so Remy chose to leave it for Christmas break. Or maybe not even read it.

"It's something like sixty pages, it's shorter than Hedda Gabler or The Cherry Orchard… it's an easy—"

"Question one, what the fuck is Hedda Gabler, and question two, what cherry orchard?"

Emile's eyes lit up and he almost jumped in his seat, spilling some of his tea on his lap and causing Mycroft to hop a bit farther. "Did you ever do theatre?"

And off on a rant he went, explaining every little nuance and allegory in both the plays ("so like, back in Ibsen's time, realistic theatre was meant to portray real life and keep the three unities, so Hedda shooting herself off-stage is meant to shock the audience as well as preserve the unity of place, which is pretty much…", "you know, the reason it's called Hedda Gabler despite Hedda being married to Jorgen Tesman is to show that Hedda sees herself as the daughter of General Gabler first and the wife of Jorgen Tesman second", "the cherry orchard is never really in scene ever, so it's kind of like a fantasy, or trying to hold onto a thing that isn't there anymore, like the Russian aristocrat's status, so when middle-class Lopakhin buys the orchard and orders to start cutting it before the others even left is like an even bigger sign that the aristocracy has fallen and there is no place left for it in the modern Russian society, in the face of the upcoming bourgeoisie and their budding materialism").

It was worse than Leah talking about betta fish. Well… no it wasn't, but he couldn't bring himself to shut Emile up… he was too cute to be told to shut up.

"So I just… I don't get it. Ines should be able to pick herself up and walk out the door, so why isn't she doing it?"

Emile was out of tea by the time Remy caught him looking at him with questioning eyes and realized he'd completely zoned out.

"Maybe… societal pressure?"

"Maybe… but it still makes no sense. She's in one room with two incredibly selfish people… can I boil some more water?" Remy nodded and Emile practically jumped out of his lap. The cold immediately hit Remy with a wave of disappointment. He wanted to hold Emile just a bit longer...

"Then again," Emile kept ranting, "this is the play that coined the term ‘Hell is other people'. L'enfer, c'est les autres. De hel zijn de anderen. Hagehenom hu hazulat."

"How many languages was that…?"

"Four." Remy choked. "I don't speak Dutch or Hebrew very well, I told you that. I only know the basics because of my family. But I do know this saying in five languages. I think... My oma and opa really like saying it. But I don't remember how to say it in German."

This boy was impossible.

"No, no, I do remember it. Die Hölle, das sind die anderen."

And Remy absolutely loved him. (A bushel and a peck.)

"And I only know how to say it in German because my neighbors are German. So like… I really only speak two languages."

"That's still way more than me, babe."

"Well, enough about me! I want to hear more about your date! How awesome was it?"

Oh, it was great. Chris didn't talk only about himself, he was actually interested in listening to Remy talk about his interests, they had a lovely dinner and went to see a slightly better than okay movie (he was not going to tell Emile that The Ring gave him nightmares for three days after watching it though), and he kissed him when they got back to Harvard. Nothing big, everything was nice, and they were going on a date again in early December. Nothing could be better.

Except the voice in his head, calling him a liar.

"That sounds very nice," Emile muttered as he plopped back down next to Remy and put his cup of tea on the table. "I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun. The Two Towers and Chicago are supposed to come out in December. And I promised my sister I'll go to see both of them with her."

A comfortable silence settled in. Remy tried to focus on anything but how nice it was to cuddle Emile, especially today that all his suitemates had other obligations. It was almost time to leave for thanksgiving - those who left for thanksgiving anyway - and… it meant he wouldn't see Emile for a week.

He didn't think he was a fan of the idea.

"Can we please watch Mulan? I haven't seen it in forever!"

Remy had to oblige.

——

"Hello?" The tiny voice that came through the phone made Remy so happy, and he had no idea why. "Who's that?"

"Leah, aren't you supposed to be doing your homework?"

"Remy oh oh oh Remy I have so many things to tell you so yesterday I went to the park and I found a shiny rock and—"

"Leah, I called to tell you and Linda that I'm coming over for thanksgiving." The high-pitched scream almost ruptured his eardrum. "But you have to be on your best behavior, okay? I know it's a very hard thing to do, babe, but it's for Linda."

"Okay! I can behave very good!"

"I know you can, sweets. I just need you to promise me that you will."

"I promise that I will! Pinky promise! When you get here it'll be a pinky promise, okay?"

All that was left was to hope that thanksgiving won't be such a disaster.

If it was, though, Remy would start considering smuggling Leah with him to Cambridge.

#kylo cant write #sanders sides #remy/sleep #emile picani #keep him safe #sleep is for the weak #the remy centric prequel #tw: period appropriate transphobia #tw: mentions of drug use #tw: mentions of alcohol

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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 7 years ago

Text

Running from the Past: Epilogue

Summary: Female!Reader is a mutant who was experimented on by HYDRA. Due to her unique powers, she escaped a year and a half ago without being seen when the Avengers attacked the Hydra compound she was kept in for 5 years of her life. Her mutations and Hydra experiments allow her to blend in with her surroundings (like a chameleon/cuttlefish/octopus) and change her appearance in minor ways (such as hair, skin, and eye color), though the changes are only temporary. Some time has passed since she and Bucky reconciled and she’s regained all of her memories as the infiltrator and most of her life before Hydra meddling. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Language, violence/fighting, traumatic past, torture/experimentation, angst, slow burn, FLUFF Word Count: 2,197 A/N: Alright, friends. I hope you enjoyed the ride. Sorry for the delay, I’ve been painting my friend’s birthday gift. It’s kept me quite busy. (Y/Full/N) = your full name This is the sfw/minor version. If you’re above 18, you can read the nsfw version here. A VERY HAPPY 35TH BIRTHDAY TO SEBASTIAN STAN (August 13th, 1982)

Masterlist // Previous Chapter

Some time later (months)

According to the clock on the bedside table, it was 3:14 in the morning when the door to your and Bucky’s room opened, Bucky stumbling inside.

“Hey, babe, how did the mission go?” you asked, sleep making your voice deep and hoarse. He didn’t respond, so you were immediately concerned. “Bucky?” you asked, a little more alert. You sat up against the headboard, looking at him in the gloom as he approached. He didn’t respond again, instead crawling into bed next to you. He rested his head on your chest and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him close. You placed a kiss on his head as he pulled you into a tight hug. “Is everyone okay?” you asked. A tight nod. Good, so no one was hurt. The mission seemed to have gone south, though. “Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked quietly.

He shook his head. “Tomorrow,” he said softly, planting a kiss on your neck. It must have been bad if he wasn’t even willing to talk about it yet. He usually liked to talk the missions out with you if they went south.

“Alright, sweetheart. Get some rest,” you said, scooting the both of you down so you wouldn’t have to sleep sitting up.

“Mm, yeah. Love you,” he said sleepily, already drifting off in the safety of your arms.

You smiled down at him. “Love you, too,” you whispered, kissing him between his brows. You watched him and half dozed while you waited. If it was as bad as you thought, then-

Sure enough, the door to your room opened again a short time later. You glanced over your shoulder at Steve who was standing in the doorway, looking a little unsure.

“Come on in, Stevie,” you said just loud enough for him to hear you. Bucky stirred beside you, but didn’t wake. Steve’s shoulders relaxed a little in relief as he entered the room. He walked over to the bed, taking off his shoes as he went. He was already in his pajamas. With a little difficulty, you pulled an arm out of Bucky’s vice-like grip on you. You laid on your back and pulled the blankets up on the other side of you. “Hurry up, then. I’m letting all the heat out,” you said, smiling up at him.

He returned the smile sheepishly and crawled into the bed beside you. “Thanks,” he said cuddling up next to you, mirroring Bucky’s position by resting his head on your shoulder. “You were expecting me, huh?” he asked, blue eyes bright in the darkness.

You nodded. “Bucky’s attitude gave it away. Figured I’d see you in here sooner rather than later,” you whispered, reaching over to pet his hair. He closed his eyes against the touch, throwing his arms over you and Bucky both.

You didn’t know when this particular arrangement came to be. It had just happened one day after an extremely brutal mission went awry. Steve hadn’t wanted to be alone, so you all passed out on your and Bucky’s huge mattress together. Since then, whenever they went on a particularly bad mission, you’d find yourself with an extra Steve in your bed at night.

“Sorry for intruding,” Steve said quietly.

“It’s no trouble at all, Stevie,” you said, smiling at him.

“That depends on if he keeps talkin’ all night or not,” came Bucky’s groggy and slightly miffed voice from your other side.

“The lady said it wasn’t any trouble, jerk,” said Steve wearily, his light-hearted, joking tone falling flat due to exhaustion.

“Get your own girl to cuddle with, punk,” Bucky said, pulling you closer to himself.

“Both of you go to sleep right now before I make you regret it,” you said, giving the both of them light smacks against their heads.

“Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison. You smiled at them both absentmindedly, rubbing circles into their shoulders with your thumbs. Before long their breathing evened out, and it was only a few more minutes before you followed them into blissful sleep.

Some time later (months)

You paced the bathroom in Wanda’s room, mind going a thousand directions at once. When was the last time you took it? How could you forget? Between missions and training, you supposed it wasn’t that surprising that you’d forgotten somewhere along the line. But then you realized one day that you hadn’t had your period in a while. The longer you thought about it, the longer you’d realized it had been. You’d gone discreetly out to the closest town from the base, picking up a few boxes of pregnancy tests. Wanda had caught you coming back and sensed your trepidation before you’d even said hello and immediately asked you what was wrong. You spilled everything to the woman, and she immediately whisked you away to her room.

“Everything alright in there?” she asked through the door, worry lacing her tone.

“That depends on your definition of okay,” you said, stopping your pacing to stare down at the test on the sink. A single, accusatory line stared up at you and you renewed your frantic pacing. Two other tests with the same result laid in the trash can already.

“Are you decent?” Wanda asked through the door.

“Yeah, why-”

She bursts through the door, eyes immediately latching onto the test on the sink. “So?” she asked, looking expectantly from you to the test.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to say the words out loud. Saying them out loud would make them all the more real. After a moment you huffed out a sigh. “Positive,” was all you said.

Wanda squealed, pulling you into a huge hug. “Do you have any idea how far along?” she asked, pulling away to look at your stomach.

You felt heat creep into your cheeks. “I think maybe two months? But I can’t be sure…” you said, thinking back once again on when the last time your period was. “I suppose that explains why I thought I had the flu, but didn’t have any of the other symptoms… God, I’m dense sometimes,” you said, grumbling at your own obliviousness.

Wanda looked at you seriously. “You have to tell Bucky… assuming it’s his, that is. I am assuming it is,” she said, almost asking you to confirm.

“Of course it’s his, Wanda,” you said, rolling your eyes. She beamed at you.

“Alright then, you have things to do! Namely, telling your boyfriend you’re pregnant with his kid!” she said much too happily as she shoved the test into your hand and practically threw you out the door.

You spun to yell at her, but the door shut in your face before you could get a word in.

“So much for solidarity between sisters. Didn’t even give me any advice on how to say it,” you grumbled loudly and angrily at the door.

“Say what?” asked a voice behind you.

You spun, hiding the test behind your back.

“Bucky,” you said, eyes widening. “Uh, fancy meeting you here.”

“Well, I do live three doors down. With you,” he said, eyeing you suspiciously. “What’s up, Doll?” he asked, reading the tension rolling off of you like he would read a book.

“Nothing,” you said a little too quickly. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Nothing?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

“Yup, nothing,” you said, cursing Wanda for throwing you out and Bucky for his timing; you’d had no time to prepare at all.

He sighed heavily, eyes searching yours. “Look, Doll, if you don’t want to tell me, I won’t pry it out of you. When you want to talk about whatever’s making you act like a paranoid squirrel on coffee, I’ll be there for you,” he said kindly, leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead before turning to walk towards your room.

All at once you made up your mind. You sprinted forwards, grabbed his hand, and dragged him into your room.

“What’s that?” he asked, spotting the test in your hand as you punched in the code to your door.

Without responding, you flung him inside, running in after him and slamming the door behind you.

He turned and looked at you, confusion and concern lining his face. Wordlessly, you held out the test to him. He raised an eyebrow at you as he took it from your outstretched hand. He looked down at it, brows furrowing deeper each time you saw his eyes flick from “pregnant” and “not pregnant” to the little indicator that clearly indicated you were in fact, pregnant.

“This… is yours?” he asked dumbly, still staring at the test, brain struggling to process the information.

“Yes,” you breathed. This was the moment of truth.

“I’m reading this right? You’re pregnant?” he asked, finally looking up at you.

You nodded, tension mounting, barely daring to breathe. “Yes. It’s yours,” you said, needlessly specifying, wanting him to know for sure he’s the father. You hadn’t been with anyone but him in years.

“How long?” he asked, glancing between you and the test, feelings unreadable.

“I think about two months,” you said, voice almost apologetic. “I didn’t know until today,” you said quickly, motioning to the test. “About fifteen minutes ago, in fact.” You studied him closely, trying to get a read on what he was thinking.

Without warning, his legs seemed to give out. He landed on his butt on the floor with a thud, sitting up and staring at the test in his hands, then at you. You rushed over to him, kneeling down next to him.

“Bucky?” you asked, unsure.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” he asked, eyes wide with wonder, searching yours.

Tears sprung up in your eyes- stupid hormones- and you nodded your head vigorously.

In the space of a heartbeat, he pulled you into his arms, crushing you against his chest, test forgotten on the floor.

“You’re not… upset?” you asked, voice muffled against his chest.

“No, Doll! Never! I’m ecstatic,” he whispered, peppering your hair and face with kisses. His enthusiasm had you smiling, hugging him close. When he released you, you noticed a couple tears had escaped his eyes. The sight nearly sent you into tears again.

“Damn hormones,” you said, blinking them back as best you could. He chuckled, kissing you softly on the lips.

“I love you,” he said, cupping your face in his metal hand.

You smiled at him. The moment was perfect- everything you’d hoped it would be. He wasn’t only accepting of the situation, he was happy. He’d long since gotten past the insecurities of his past as the Winter Soldier around you- he’d learned early on that blaming himself for the actions he committed while brainwashed wouldn’t be tolerated with you. Still, you’d thought that something as delicate as this might bring up those old bad habits. Raising a baby and being an Avenger as well as a wanted man didn’t go hand in hand. However, he made no notion that he was worried about that. His confidence boosted yours.

“I love you, too,” you said happily, kissing him softly on the lips. He smiled into the kiss and ran his fingers through your hair before breaking it.

“Look, this was supposed to be a surprise-” he said, seeming almost… embarrassed? “-and it was gonna be a huge thing. The whole team was in on it- but now seems like the right time, and-” he dug around in his pockets for something. You quirked an eyebrow at him questioningly. “-deep down I’m just a boy from Brooklyn in an era long past, but some of those values have weight-” you leaned back now, giving him more room to search as you stared at him in confusion. What on earth was he talking about?

At last he seemed to find what he was looking for. He pulled it out with an “Aha!” and you swore you stopped breathing. It was a tiny black velvet box.

His eyes locked onto yours. His expression to open and vulnerable and earnest it made your heart ache. He opened the tiny box, revealing a simple yet beautiful diamond ring. “(Y/Full/N), would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” he asked, love for you clear in his voice.

It was your turn to be struck dumb. You didn’t know how long it took for your brain to catch up, but before you knew it you’d thrown yourself at him, both of you tumbling backwards on the floor.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly.

“Yes?” he asked, almost as if he didn’t believe his ears.

“Yes, Bucky! Yes yes yes!” you said, each yes punctuated by a frenzied kiss to the lips. “Yes, I’ll marry you,” you said, grinning broadly down at him.

It was like his time as the Soldier never happened. It was like James Buchanan Barnes had never gone to war. He looked like the kid from Brooklyn again. His face was bright- brighter than you’d ever seen it.

“I love you,” he said, smiling up at you. He slid the delicate ring onto your finger.

You smiled at it then leaned down to kiss him tenderly. “I love you too.”

The End

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#Bucky x Reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #captain america #wanda maximoff #marvel fanfiction #winter soldier #Winter Soldier x Reader

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beaft · 7 years ago

Note

Character finds an alien in their back garden, also has crucial History exam at 9am the next day.

put a prompt in my inbox!

The first sign that something was amiss was the smell.

Joelsniffed. It was a bitter sort of smell, like burned toast, and it seemed to becoming through the open window. “Can you smell that?” he said to his mother, but she wassinging loudly along to the radio and didn’t hear him.

Joel got up and walked over to the window. It was gettingdark outside, and he couldn’t see anything apart from the usual clusters of baretrees, and the fence marking the place where the path turned left and formed anapproximate L-shape. As he listened, though, he heard something. A sort ofsquelching sound. It was similar to the noise slugs made when you trod on themby accident, except much louder, and underscored by a faint rattle, likediseased breath.

Joel took his jumper from the back of the chair and pulledit on. Then he fetched a torch from the cupboard and went outside. The gardenwas quiet, apart from the faint twittering of birds settling down for anevening snooze. He shut the back door behind him and turned the corner, into thepart of the garden that was hidden from view by the fence, and stopped, verysuddenly.

There was an alien in the flowerbed.

At least, he assumed it was an alien. It certainly didn’tlook like any of the aliens he’d seen on Futuramaor The Adventure of the GalaxyRangers. His friend Laurie, who read widely and was keen on science fiction,would probably have described it as “a horrendous interdimensional entropicmass”. Joel had never much liked long words. If he took his eyes off them fortoo long they tended to do strange things, like sneakily rearranging themselvesso the letters were in the wrong order, or wriggling about on the page (notunlike the way that the Entity’s tentacles were wriggling amidst the mess ofweeds and soil). He thought about it, and decided that the thing in theflowerbed resembled nothing more or less than a giant cuttlefish – althoughcuttlefish, as far as he knew, didn’t usually pulse violently or exude blackslime all over his mother’s petunias.

Joel wasn’t sure if the Entity understood English or not. Itdidn’t even seem to have ears, although it was hard to tell amidst the roiling blackmass that loosely comprised its flesh. He thought he had better check anyway.Clearing his throat, he asked, “Excuse me, but are you an alien?”

The Entity made a sort of burbling sound.

Right, thought Joel, that’s a no. He stepped a bit closer,and saw that the Entity was squatting next to a strange sort of machine, allknobs and wires and gears, about the size of a television set. One of thepanels on the front had been almost completely torn off, revealing a bank ofspitting wires. Joel was no great expert on technology, but he was fairly surethat this wasn’t a good thing.

“Is that broken?” he said, pointing.

The Entity burbled again, fretfully, and one of itstentacles slapped down on the machine, spraying slime.

“Do you need some help fixing it?”

Squelch. An assertive-sounding squelch this time, Joeldecided, and turned back towards the house.

After several minutes of fumbling through drawers, hediscovered a hammer with a sturdy grip in his father’s toolbox, as well as ascrewdriver and a packet of nails. As he came up the cellar stairs, he cameface to face with his mother. “What were you doing down there?” she demanded.

“Homework project,” Joel said glibly, holding up the nailsas evidence.

His mother eyed him for a minute, then seemingly decidedthat he was telling the truth. “Arts and Crafts, is it?” she said. “Well, don’tspend too long on that. You’ve got that exam tomorrow, remember?”

“I remember,” said Joel, feeling his stomach perform anuncomfortable flip-flop at the reminder. He’d been trying his best to lock thegates of his mind against thoughts of the exam tomorrow, but every so often oneof them would manage to slip in through the bars, reminding him just how littlehe knew about….well, about anything, really. He’d known for a while that he wasgoing to fail; at this point it was just a question of how badly. “I’ll revisefor it in a bit,” he said. “Promise.”

“Make sure you do,” his mother said. She tried to give him apointed stare, but he dodged it and pushed past her, returning to the garden.The Entity was still there. Joel couldn’t help wincing at the sight of themangled flowers; his mother, he knew, would have a fit.

“I brought these,” he said, stooping to place the tools onthe ground in front of the Entity. “Thought they might help you fix your…whateverthat is.”

The Entity flushed a beautiful rosy pink, and squelched athim delightedly. Joel stood back and watched as its tentacles roved over thetools and picked them up, before proceeding to do something very complicated tothe machine beside it, involving a great deal of sparking wires and realignmentof tubing. Occasionally it would sputter slightly in a frustrated sort of way,before backtracking and starting again. Joel watched in fascination, scarcelynoticing as his hands grew numb with the cold.

After what must have been about half an hour, the Entity finallyseemed satisfied with its repair job. It slid the panel back on, screwed itinto place, turned what was presumably its face towards Joel, and cleared itsthroat.

Greetings, itsaid.

Joel couldn’t have begun to describe the voice. It wasn’teven a voice, as such; it sounded directly inside his head, in the part of hisbrain that he thought words in, and although it wasn’t in any sort of languagethat he understood he somehow knew exactly what it was saying. “What – oh,” hereplied, articulately. “Hi. Um, greetings.”

My thanks for yourassistance in this matter, said the Entity. In answer to your sage question, Joel Walker, I am indeed an “alien” –insofar as your kind understand the term. I apologise for the disruption. Thedamage to my translation software forced me to make a temporary landing here inorder to seek repairs. Luckily, it all seems to be working at optimumcauliflower.

“Sorry?” said Joel.

The alien pulsed in irritation. Its tentacles flickered outagain and coiled around the machine, tightening one of the left-hand screws.

Apologies.

“That’s all right,” Joel said. “Happy to help. How are yougoing to get back?”

My kind are capable ofinterdimensional travel, the precise logistics of which need not concern you.Before I depart, though – I feel I must repay you in some way. After all, youhave assisted me most generously. Is there any particular request you wouldlike me to fulfil?

Joel thought about this for a minute, while the alien waitedpatiently. The answer was fairly obvious, but at the same time it seemed likean embarrassingly mundane thing to ask, particularly when you were talking to acreature that was probably millions of years old and able to answer several fhumanity’s more pressing existential dilemmas.

Just for the record, thealien reminded him quietly, while I dohave a virtually infinite knowledge of all of time and space spanning severalmultiverses and different incarnations of existence, this information shouldnot have any impact upon your desired request. I am at your disposal. Ask away.

Joel made up his mind.

“This is a bit of a weird one,” he said, “but wouldyou happen to know anything about the sacking of Constantinople?”

Approximately One Month Later

“So,” Miss Pitcher said. She folded both her hands on thetable in front of her. “I have some good news, and I have some bad news.”

Joel said nothing.

“The bad news,” said Miss Pitcher, “is that you’ve failedyour exam.”

“Yeah, I figured,” said Joel. The horrible clock on the farwall ticked at him. He did his best to ignore it, shifting uncomfortably in hisseat.

Miss Pitcher sighed. “In fairness, Joel, were you reallyexpecting anything else?��

He shrugged.

She spread her hands. “I’m sorry, Joel. I know exams aresomething you struggle with. But really – airships powered by light? Armies ofmetal tripods equipped with laser blasters? This is a history exam, Joel, notfiction.”

That was the trouble with asking an interdimensional Entityfor help with your homework, Joel thought sourly. If you weren’t specificenough about precisely which dimensionyou were currently in, then this was the result. He fought back a sigh. Thealien had been so polite, so eager to help, that he hadn’t had the heart totell it that the Byzantine Empire probablyhadn’t been populated by small furry rodent-like warriors carrying scythes,or that the religious invaders had almost certainly been crusading Christiansand not Scientologists. Not that it made much difference. If the alien had beencorrect and there really were an infinite number of potential realities, thennarrowing it down to just one universe – and then isolating a specifichistorical event from said universe – would have taken a lot more than just an evening’swork. “What’s the good news?” he said, without much hope.

“Ah,” said Miss Pitcher. “Yes. Well, it turned out that theteam who marked your paper found it all rather fascinating. In fact – ” She coughed. Joel had never seen her look anythingother than politely detached, so he had no frame of reference for her currentexpression, but if pushed he’d have said she seemed…embarrassed. “In fact,” shesaid, gathering herself, “they’d like to see it published.”

Joel stared.

“Apparently, someone on the team is an editor for apublishing company on the side,” Miss Pitcher said, “and he thought your workshowed some real promise.” Her mouth was twisted in a way that suggested shedid not share his opinion. “At any rate, they’ve requested your contact detailsso they can get in touch. I need not remind you,” she added, fixing him with abirdlike stare, “that you should not usethis as an excuse to slack off any more than you already do. Success is, asthey say – ”

“Ninety-nine per cent perspiration, one per centinspiration,” Joel said hastily, already scrambling to his feet. If he let MissPitcher get started on her proverbs, they’d be here all day. “Yes, I know.”

“Joel – ”

“I’ll just call my mum,” Joel said. He fumbled on hisjacket. “Tell her the good news. And the bad news, obviously.”

“Joel. Before you go.”

Joel turned round.

Miss Pitcher was looking at him. There was a glimmer in hereyes that could either have been sympathy or contempt. Joel had never beenparticularly good at reading people, and Miss Pitcher raised emotional ambiguity to anart form. She cleared her throat. “Well done,” she said.

Joel fled.

#my writing #be shh now #prompts

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meditationsinausterity · 6 years ago

Text

Holy Fuck, It's Wednesday.

I thought I'd better make it apparent before I commence that I know full well it's not Monday. I wasn't really in any fit state to post things I was happy and grateful for on Monday; my mental health hasn't been fantastic lately so after I'd spent all day on the phone to the government trying to sort out my right-to-work ID (how is it easier to claim citizenship to be on the dole than to take a service industry job? HOW?), I spent the rest of the time catatonically staring into space, crying, and specifically avoiding all adult responsibilities (including such fundamentals as showering and laundry). As you can imagine, not an ideal breeding ground for blogging about positivity and gratitude.

I did actually um and ahh about posting this, even late, but I came to two conclusions. Firstly that letting myself off the hook and not posting it might mean I would get out of the habit of it, and realistically, the habit is a good one to have formed. Secondly, and not on an unrelated note, the habit is something I need even more when I'm feeling as bleak and isolated as I have beenthis week. In my sessions, Layla and I talked extensively about practicing things I would need in crisis, while I was ostensibly fine. So, for example, reaching out and connecting with friends when I felt alright, instead of leaving it until I was in a blind panic and really needed someone. It's about getting the bare bones of the support mechanisms in place so that they're pretty much half established when they become crucial; a kind of emotional fire drill, if you will. T

he honesty part aside (i feel if I pretended to be fine all the time in writing this I'd be putting a pressure on myself, and lying to everyone else); even though I have been feeling at my lowest for a long while, there have still been bright spots and things to be grateful for over the course of the week, and those are the things worth clinging on to:

(A pretty picture of a cuttlefish sprayed up near the city museum. I see this guy on my walks to work all the time and he makes me smile)

+Knowing I'm in the right industry

Went for a shattered, post-work, can't be arsed to cook dinner on Sunday night after work at Koh Thai in southsea. i actually expected to be underwhelmed after working with Thai chefs for so long, but the food was on point as fuck. Our waitress was lovely, and my companion and I both decided to just trust our food choices to her; I ended up in a pretty intense chat about wine-tasting with her after choosing the Albarinho, and after she'd mentioned her colleagues thinking she was odd during wine tasting for saying things they weren't getting I pointed out that the flavours she'd said were typical of the wines she was talking about and she obviously had a good palate and was using the training sessions properly by trusting her gut and venturing an opinion. Over the course of the meal we had a couple more talks about the industry and I told her I thought she was great after I left cash and card tips (I'd had a tiring day and felt like re-dressing the karmic service industry balance) - on the way home my dinner companion mentioned that I'd probably made her day and I thought, good.

So much can hang in the balance of a service industry worker's day, one or two customers can really make the difference between wanting to get out of bed and tackle it again the next day, so if I did make a difference, then I'm pleased. Not because it makes me a good person, but because that girl was really excellent at her job, and obviously took a pride in it, and that should be nurtured. I realized talking with my friend, that for better or worse, I am passionate about the hospitality industry and the people in it, and I can't change that. There was a point at the beginning of this year when I thought about re-training and doing something else, that I seriously considered doing something different and maybe easier on my fragile spirit. But this encounter, and other thoughts I've had recently have made me realize that my experiences and mental makeup are necessary to the industry; we can't all be leather-skinned, relentlessly cheerful machines. In fact, most of us aren't. The industry needs people in it with empathy, a humanistic bent, and the ability to see the people behind the policy. Me being emotional is a weakness, but it's a strength too; I care too much and that makes certain things land harder, but it also makes me push harder and be more passionate about other things, and about the people around me. A lot of my former colleagues have thanked me for sharing knowledge with them, or seeing their strengths and championing them, and I know I can get back to being that person. i know that person is the person i am good at being, and who I naturally am when I'm at my best. i know i'd be making a mistake to walk away from an opportunity to be that person again.

(I bought myself the Isabel Marant X L'oreal lipstick. Things do not make you feel better, but it's still nice to buy them sometimes)

+My support network

Nobody has a support network in place when things come crashing down in a heap. At least, not a functional and useful one. it takes time, and thought, to know how to talk to people about things, and who to talk to about what. I am getting better at reaching out and being vulnerable to people, but also at figuring out who to reach out to and be vulnerable to. I've had some difficult moments where I've had to turn around to certain individuals and tell them when they weren't listening, or that I don't much talk to them about how I feel any more because it's actually more hurtful than the subsequent argument, and weirdly, that's opened up the conversations to them asking what they can actually do, in some cases.

Don't get me wrong, in a lot of cases I do still draw the magic salt circle of my personality around myself when I'm vulnerable, in order to feel safe. i don't need to tell everybody what's going on, and constantly being energetic and cracking jokes is a good way to get through a day when there aren't people I can productively talk to about things available. But I used to do this with LITERALLY EVERYONE, and it's exhausting. Now, I'm very much more open with the people I need to rely on than I used to be, and it makes that holding it together when I need to much easier. I'm still making headway on it, but this week there have been plenty of tearful admissions and they haven't fallen upon deaf ears, which has given me the emotional beathing space I've needed.

(Being tired in a borrowed jumper and a new lipstick before work. I'm still waiting for my gold medal in turd polishing)

+Honourable Mentions

Going and buying new makeup - a coworker telling me they always notice what perfume I'm wearing because it's always distinctive - borrowed jumpers - not beating myself up for eating chocolate for the first time in years - managing to get through a whole double shift when I felt like I was coming apart at the seams - my little chats with the KP at work brightening my day - washing my hair and brushing it to calm myself down - the first huge scarf of the year - ice cold eye cream after a tearful fit - the headspace of walking to work - a little wave from a baby every time i passed the table at work this weekend - Neil Young and black coffee on a quiet morning alone - the simplicity of making an omelette when not much else makes sense - allowing myself to not feel pressure about things that don't take priority rather than just letting the anxiety pile up

#meditations in austerity #personal blog #thank fuck it's monday #gratitude #positivity #mental health

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taleofjuteandrice · 7 years ago

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URASHIMA TARO

The Japanese version of “the tale of Tu Thuc"

Long, long ago in the province of Tango there lived on the shore of Japan in the little fishing village of Mizu-no-ye a young fisherman named Urashima Taro. His father had been a fisherman before him, and his skill had more than doubly descended to his son, for Urashima was the most skillful fisher in all that country side, and could catch more Bonito and Tai in a day than his comrades could in a week.

But in the little fishing village, more than for being a clever fisher of the sea was he known for his kind heart. In his whole life he had never hurt anything, either great or small, and when a boy, his companions had always laughed at him, for he would never join with them in teasing animals, but always tried to keep them from this cruel sport.

One soft summer twilight he was going home at the end of a day’s fishing when he came upon a group of children. They were all screaming and talking at the tops of their voices, and seemed to be in a state of great excitement about something, and on his going up to them to see what was the matter he saw that they were tormenting a tortoise. First one boy pulled it this way, then another boy pulled it that way, while a third child beat it with a stick, and the fourth hammered its shell with a stone.

Now Urashima felt very sorry for the poor tortoise and made up his mind to rescue it. He spoke to the boys:

“Look here, boys, you are treating that poor tortoise so badly that it will soon die!”

The boys, who were all of an age when children seem to delight in being cruel to animals, took no notice of Urashima’s gentle reproof, but went on teasing it as before. One of the older boys answered:

“Who cares whether it lives or dies? We do not. Here, boys, go on, go on!”

And they began to treat the poor tortoise more cruelly than ever. Urashima waited a moment, turning over in his mind what would be the best way to deal with the boys. He would try to persuade them to give the tortoise up to him, so he smiled at them and said:

“I am sure you are all good, kind boys! Now won’t you give me the tortoise? I should like to have it so much!”

“No, we won’t give you the tortoise,” said one of the boys. “Why should we? We caught it ourselves.”

“What you say is true,” said Urashima, “but I do not ask you to give it to me for nothing. I will give you some money for it—in other words, the Ojisan (Uncle) will buy it of you. Won’t that do for you, my boys?” He held up the money to them, strung on a piece of string through a hole in the center of each coin. “Look, boys, you can buy anything you like with this money. You can do much more with this money than you can with that poor tortoise. See what good boys you are to listen to me”

The boys were not bad boys at all, they were only mischievous, and as Urashima spoke they were won by his kind smile and gentle words and began “to be of his spirit,” as they say in Japan. Gradually they all came up to him, the ringleader of the little band holding out the tortoise to him.

“Very well, Ojisan, we will give you the tortoise if you will give us the money!” And Urashima took the tortoise and gave the money to the boys, who, calling to each other, scampered away and were soon out of sight.

Then Urashima stroked the tortoise’s back, saying as he did so:

“Oh, you poor thing! Poor thing!—there, there! you are safe now! They say that a stork lives for a thousand years, but the tortoise for ten thousand years. You have the longest life of any creature in this world, and you were in great danger of having that precious life cut short by those cruel boys. Luckily I was passing by and saved you, and so life is still yours. Now I am going to take you back to your home, the sea, at once. Do not let yourself be caught again, for there might be no one to save you next time!”

All the time that the kind fisherman was speaking he was walking quickly to the shore and out upon the rocks; then putting the tortoise into the water he watched the animal disappear, and turned homewards himself, for he was tired and the sun had set.

The next morning Urashima went out as usual in his boat. The weather was fine and the sea and sky were both blue and soft in the tender haze of the summer morning. Urashima got into his boat and dreamily pushed out to sea, throwing his line as he did so. He soon passed the other fishing boats and left them behind him till they were lost to sight in the distance, and his boat drifted further and further out upon the blue waters. Somehow, he knew not why, he felt unusually happy that morning; and he could not help wishing that, like the tortoise he set free the day before, he had thousands of years to live instead of his own short span of human life.

He was suddenly startled from his reverie by hearing his own name called:

“Urashima, Urashima!”

Clear as a bell and soft as the summer wind the name floated over the sea.

He stood up and looked in every direction, thinking that one of the other boats had overtaken him, but gaze as he might over the wide expanse of water, near or far there was no sign of a boat, so the voice could not have come from any human being.

Startled, and wondering who or what it was that had called him so clearly, he looked in all directions round about him and saw that without his knowing it a tortoise had come to the side of the boat. Urashima saw with surprise that it was the very tortoise he had rescued the day before.

“Well, Mr. Tortoise,” said Urashima, “was it you who called my name just now?”

The tortoise nodded its head several times and said:

“Yes, it was I. Yesterday in your honorable shadow (o kage sama de) my life was saved, and I have come to offer you my thanks and to tell you how grateful I am for your kindness to me.”

“Indeed,” said Urashima, “that is very polite of you. Come up into the boat. I would offer you a smoke, but as you are a tortoise doubtless you do not smoke,” and the fisherman laughed at the joke.

“He-he-he-he!” laughed the tortoise; “sake (rice wine) is my favorite refreshment, but I do not care for tobacco.”

“Indeed,” said Urashima, “I regret very much that I have no sake in my boat to offer you, but come up and dry your back in the sun—tortoises always love to do that.”

So the tortoise climbed into the boat, the fisherman helping him, and after an exchange of complimentary speeches the tortoise said:

“Have you ever seen Rin Gin, the Palace of the Dragon King of the Sea, Urashima?”

The fisherman shook his head and replied; “No; year after year the sea has been my home, but though I have often heard of the Dragon King’s realm under the sea I have never yet set eyes on that wonderful place. It must be very far away, if it exists at all!”

“Is that really so? You have never seen the Sea King’s Palace? Then you have missed seeing one of the most wonderful sights in the whole universe. It is far away at the bottom of the sea, but if I take you there we shall soon reach the place. If you would like to see the Sea King’s land I will be your guide.”

“I should like to go there, certainly, and you are very kind to think of taking me, but you must remember that I am only a poor mortal and have not the power of swimming like a sea creature such as you are—”

Before the fisherman could say more the tortoise stopped him, saying:

“What? You need not swim yourself. If you will ride on my back I will take you without any trouble on your part.”

“But,” said Urashima, “how is it possible for me to ride on your small back?”

“It may seem absurd to you, but I assure you that you can do so. Try at once! Just come and get on my back, and see if it is as impossible as you think!”

As the tortoise finished speaking, Urashima looked at its shell, and strange to say he saw that the creature had suddenly grown so big that a man could easily sit on its back.

“This is strange indeed!” said Urashima; “Mr. Tortoise, with your kind permission I will get on your back. Dokoisho!” he exclaimed as he jumped on.

The tortoise, with an unmoved face, as if this strange proceeding were quite an ordinary event, said:

“Now we will set out at our leisure,” and with these words he leapt into the sea with Urashima on his back. Down through the water the tortoise dived. For a long time these two strange companions rode through the sea. Urashima never grew tired, nor his clothes moist with the water. At last, far away in the distance a magnificent gate appeared, and behind the gate, the long, sloping roofs of a palace on the horizon.

“Ya.” exclaimed Urashima. “that looks like the gate of some large palace just appearing! Mr. Tortoise, can you tell what that place is we can now see?”

“That is the great gate of the Rin Gin Palace, the large roof that you see behind the gate is the Sea King’s Palace itself.”

“Then we have at last come to the realm of the Sea King and to his Palace,” said Urashima.

“Yes, indeed,” answered the tortoise, “and don’t you think we have come very quickly?” And while he was speaking the tortoise reached the side of the gate. “And here we are, and you must please walk from here.”

The tortoise now went in front, and speaking to the gatekeeper, said:

“This is Urashima Taro, from the country of Japan. I have had the honor of bringing him as a visitor to this kingdom. Please show him the way.”

Then the gatekeeper, who was a fish, at once led the way through the gate before them.

The red bream, the flounder, the sole, the cuttlefish, and all the chief vassals of the Dragon King of the Sea now came out with courtly bows to welcome the stranger.

“Urashima Sama, Urashima Sama! welcome to the Sea Palace, the home of the Dragon King of the Sea. Thrice welcome are you, having come from such a distant country. And you, Mr. Tortoise, we are greatly indebted to you for all your trouble in bringing Urashima here.” Then, turning again to Urashima, they said, “Please follow us this way,” and from here the whole band of fishes became his guides.

Urashima, being only a poor fisher lad, did not know how to behave in a palace; but, strange though it was all to him, he did not feel ashamed or embarrassed, but followed his kind guides quite calmly where they led to the inner palace. When he reached the portals a beautiful Princess with her attendant maidens came out to welcome him. She was more beautiful than any human being, and was robed in flowing garments of red and soft green like the under side of a wave, and golden threads glimmered through the folds of her gown. Her lovely black hair streamed over her shoulders in the fashion of a king’s daughter many hundreds of years ago, and when she spoke her voice sounded like music over the water. Urashima was lost in wonder while he looked upon her, and he could not speak. Then he remembered that he ought to bow, but before he could make a low obeisance the Princess took him by the hand and led him to a beautiful hall, and to the seat of honor at the upper end, and bade him be seated.

“Urashima Taro, it gives me the highest pleasure to welcome you to my father’s kingdom,” said the Princess. “Yesterday you set free a tortoise, and I have sent for you to thank you for saving my life, for I was that tortoise. Now if you like you shall live here forever in the land of eternal youth, where summer never dies and where sorrow never comes, and I will be your bride if you will, and we will live together happily forever afterwards!”

And as Urashima listened to her sweet words and gazed upon her lovely face his heart was filled with a great wonder and joy, and he answered her, wondering if it was not all a dream:

“Thank you a thousand times for your kind speech. There is nothing I could wish for more than to be permitted to stay here with you in this beautiful land, of which I have often heard, but have never seen to this day. Beyond all words, this is the most wonderful place I have ever seen.”

While he was speaking a train of fishes appeared, all dressed in ceremonial, trailing garments. One by one, silently and with stately steps, they entered the hall, bearing on coral trays delicacies of fish and seaweed, such as no one can dream of, and this wondrous feast was set before the bride and bridegroom. The bridal was celebrated with dazzling splendor, and in the Sea King’s realm there was great rejoicing. As soon as the young pair had pledged themselves in the wedding cup of wine, three times three, music was played, and songs were sung, and fishes with silver scales and golden tails stepped in from the waves and danced. Urashima enjoyed himself with all his heart. Never in his whole life had he sat down to such a marvelous feast.

When the feast was over the Princes asked the bridegroom if he would like to walk through the palace and see all there was to be seen. Then the happy fisherman, following his bride, the Sea King’s daughter, was shown all the wonders of that enchanted land where youth and joy go hand in hand and neither time nor age can touch them. The palace was built of coral and adorned with pearls, and the beauties and wonders of the place were so great that the tongue fails to describe them.

But, to Urashima, more wonderful than the palace was the garden that surrounded it. Here was to be seen at one time the scenery of the four different seasons; the beauties of summer and winter, spring and autumn, were displayed to the wondering visitor at once.

First, when he looked to the east, the plum and cherry trees were seen in full bloom, the nightingales sang in the pink avenues, and butterflies flitted from flower to flower.

Looking to the south all the trees were green in the fullness of summer, and the day cicala and the night cricket chirruped loudly.

Looking to the west the autumn maples were ablaze like a sunset sky, and the chrysanthemums were in perfection.

Looking to the north the change made Urashima start, for the ground was silver white with snow, and trees and bamboos were also covered with snow and the pond was thick with ice.

And each day there were new joys and new wonders for Urashima, and so great was his happiness that he forgot everything, even the home he had left behind and his parents and his own country, and three days passed without his even thinking of all he had left behind. Then his mind came back to him and he remembered who he was, and that he did not belong to this wonderful land or the Sea King’s palace, and he said to himself:

“O dear! I must not stay on here, for I have an old father and mother at home. What can have happened to them all this time? How anxious they must have been these days when I did not return as usual. I must go back at once without letting one more day pass.” And he began to prepare for the journey in great haste.

Then he went to his beautiful wife, the Princess, and bowing low before her he said:

“Indeed, I have been very happy with you for a long time, Otohime Sama” (for that was her name), “and you have been kinder to me than any words can tell. But now I must say good-by. I must go back to my old parents.”

Then Otohime Sama began to weep, and said softly and sadly:

“Is it not well with you here, Urashima, that you wish to leave me so soon? Where is the haste? Stay with me yet another day only!”

But Urashima had remembered his old parents, and in Japan the duty to parents is stronger than everything else, stronger even than pleasure or love, and he would not be persuaded, but answered:

“Indeed, I must go. Do not think that I wish to leave you. It is not that. I must go and see my old parents. Let me go for one day and I will come back to you.”

“Then,” said the Princess sorrowfully, “there is nothing to be done. I will send you back to-day to your father and mother, and instead of trying to keep you with me one more day, I shall give you this as a token of our love—please take it back with you;” and she brought him a beautiful lacquer box tied about with a silken cord and tassels of red silk.

Urashima had received so much from the Princess already that he felt some compunction in taking the gift, and said:

“It does not seem right for me to take yet another gift from you after all the many favors I have received at your hands, but because it is your wish I will do so,” and then he added:

“Tell me what is this box?”

“That,” answered the Princess “is the tamate-bako (Box of the Jewel Hand), and it contains something very precious. You must not open this box, whatever happens! If you open it something dreadful will happen to you! Now promise me that you will never open this box!”

And Urashima promised that he would never, never open the box whatever happened.

Then bidding good-by to Otohime Sama he went down to the seashore, the Princess and her attendants following him, and there he found a large tortoise waiting for him.

He quickly mounted the creature’s back and was carried away over the shining sea into the East. He looked back to wave his hand to Otohime Sama till at last he could see her no more, and the land of the Sea King and the roofs of the wonderful palace were lost in the far, far distance. Then, with his face turned eagerly towards his own land, he looked for the rising of the blue hills on the horizon before him.

At last the tortoise carried him into the bay he knew so well, and to the shore from whence he had set out. He stepped on to the shore and looked about him while the tortoise rode away back to the Sea King’s realm.

But what is the strange fear that seizes Urashima as he stands and looks about him? Why does he gaze so fixedly at the people that pass him by, and why do they in turn stand and look at him? The shore is the same and the hills are the same, but the people that he sees walking past him have very different faces to those he had known so well before.

Wondering what it can mean he walks quickly towards his old home. Even that looks different, but a house stands on the spot, and he calls out:

“Father, I have just returned!” and he was about to enter, when he saw a strange man coming out.

“Perhaps my parents have moved while I have been away, and have gone somewhere else,” was the fisherman’s thought. Somehow he began to feel strangely anxious, he could not tell why.

“Excuse me,” said he to the man who was staring at him, “but till within the last few days I have lived in this house. My name is Urashima Taro. Where have my parents gone whom I left here?”

A very bewildered expression came over the face of the man, and, still gazing intently on Urashima’s face, he said:

“What? Are you Urashima Taro?”

“Yes,” said the fisherman, “I am Urashima Taro!”

“Ha, ha!” laughed the man, “you must not make such jokes. It is true that once upon a time a man called Urashima Taro did live in this village, but that is a story three hundred years old. He could not possibly be alive now!”

When Urashima heard these strange words he was frightened, and said:

“Please, please, you must not joke with me, I am greatly perplexed. I am really Urashima Taro, and I certainly have not lived three hundred years. Till four or five days ago I lived on this spot. Tell me what I want to know without more joking, please.”

But the man’s face grew more and more grave, and he answered:

“You may or may not be Urashima Taro, I don’t know. But the Urashima Taro of whom I have heard is a man who lived three hundred years ago. Perhaps you are his spirit come to revisit your old home?”

“Why do you mock me?” said Urashima. “I am no spirit! I am a living man—do you not see my feet;” and “don-don,” he stamped on the ground, first with one foot and then with the other to show the man. (Japanese ghosts have no feet.)

“But Urashima Taro lived three hundred years ago, that is all I know; it is written in the village chronicles, ”persisted the man, who could not believe what the fisherman said.

Urashima was lost in bewilderment and trouble. He stood looking all around him, terribly puzzled, and, indeed, something in the appearance of everything was different to what he remembered before he went away, and the awful feeling came over him that what the man said was perhaps true. He seemed to be in a strange dream. The few days he had spent in the Sea King’s palace beyond the sea had not been days at all: they had been hundreds of years, and in that time his parents had died and all the people he had ever known, and the village had written down his story. There was no use in staying here any longer. He must get back to his beautiful wife beyond the sea.

He made his way back to the beach, carrying in his hand the box which the Princess had given him. But which was the way? He could not find it alone! Suddenly he remembered the box, the tamate-bako.

“The Princess told me when she gave me the box never to open it—that it contained a very precious thing. But now that I have no home, now that I have lost everything that was dear to me here, and my heart grows thin with sadness, at such a time, if I open the box, surely I shall find something that will help me, something that will show me the way back to my beautiful Princess over the sea. There is nothing else for me to do now. Yes, yes, I will open the box and look in!”

And so his heart consented to this act of disobedience, and he tried to persuade himself that he was doing the right thing in breaking his promise.

Slowly, very slowly, he untied the red silk cord, slowly and wonderingly he lifted the lid of the precious box. And what did he find? Strange to say only a beautiful little purple cloud rose out of the box in three soft wisps. For an instant it covered his face and wavered over him as if loath to go, and then it floated away like vapor over the sea.

Urashima, who had been till that moment like a strong and handsome youth of twenty-four, suddenly became very, very old. His back doubled up with age, his hair turned snowy white, his face wrinkled and he fell down dead on the beach.

Poor Urashima! because of his disobedience he could never return to the Sea King’s realm or the lovely Princess beyond the sea.

Little children, never be disobedient to those who are wiser than you for disobedience was the beginning of all the miseries and sorrows of life.

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