#also the swords name is sardine
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burgerking-drive-through · 1 year ago
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“I should prepare if I’m going on the journey.
I’ve got… hm.”
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“Where is-
Oh!”
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“I don’t want to wake her…
Oh! What was it that they did…”
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“…I think I’m ready to go now.”
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Hi Driftkit,
I’m going on a journey soon, so I needed to take my sword back. I hope you don’t mind(I figure you have swords of your own). I’ll see you soon!
-Beetlelegs
@driftkits-moth-net
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smallestgalaxylemon · 2 years ago
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Omniscient reader's viewpoint? More like... um... [please insert your own funny caption]
[More]
ID by the wonderful @princess-of-purple-prose under the cut
[ID: A collection of text posts (all but the last from Tumblr, and the last one from Mastadon) with characters from Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint edited over.
(Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja) First base is beating the shit out of each other second base is having a civil conversation (Han Sooyoung) Third base is dying for each other fourth base is marriage
(Han Sooyoung, Kik Dokja, and Yop Joonghyuk) theyre madly in love they want each other dead theyre trapped together in an endless cycle theyre divorced theyve been married for 25 years they know nothing about each other theyre each the only one who truly understands the other. i didnt say their name but they popped into your head didnt they
(Han Sooyoung, Kim Dokja, and Yoo Joonghyuk) no one ever talks about the 6th love language (being annoying)
(Sword saint, who isn't in the image, about Kyrgios) ah, an opponent arrives… [draws my sword and turns around] hm. your footsteps made you sound taller… [sheathes my sword and draws a second, smaller sword]
(Kim Dokja) i do love stories that start out with the protagonist going "hi! 👋😃 i am such a normal guy. the most average person ever. 😄 an average joe even. i have no friends or enemies. i spend my time reading books and sing to myself on occasions. nothing to see here! ^^" and it turns out that not only are they a liar but also the most fucked up person ever. and a cunt
(Han Sooyoung) apparently this morning my wife heard me make a noise in my sleep and she asked me if i was okay and i just responded with "yeah, i'm just pissed off" and promptly fell asleep again. like I was dead asleep and Just tucking hating still i guess. the grind never stop
(Kim Dokja with Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung) ordered a bunch of sardines in bulk and my kids found them and have started saying to each other "i swear it on father's sardines" and i dunno it just doesnt feel like i'm coming back from this one. End ID]
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jeannereames · 8 months ago
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Going through other classical fan’s blog on here, I saw one person put forward a theory that Hephaestion was erased from history due to his excessive cruelty, such as him torturing Philotas. Could there be any truth in that? Was Hepheastion uniquely cruel as he became more powerful in Alexander’s empire?
The Problem with Hephaistion’s Erasure
…is that he wasn’t erased. (Or not until later.) It’s perception more than a reality. He actually has quite a bit of mention in Curtius, Arrian, Diodoros, and Plutarch—as much (or more) than any of the other younger marshals during Alexander’s lifetime. This reflects what was present in the now-lost sources written during ATG’s career or in the generation after his death (Kallisthenes, Kleitarchos, Ptolemy, Aristobulos, Marsyas, Nearchos, Onesikritos, etc.).
Yet the notion that he was erased from the historical record is a common one. When I first arrived at Penn State and announced that I wanted to do my dissertation on Hephaistion, Gene Borza told me, “I don’t think there’s enough information in the ancient sources to support an entire dissertation on him, even as a court study.” Then, that very summer, Gene reread the ancient sources for a project of his own, and next fall, he admitted (with some surprise), “He’s in the sources more than I realized.”
(I bit my tongue on, “I told you.”)
So, what’s going on here?
First, Hephaistion didn’t outlive Alexander. Maintaining his memory was not particularly useful to any of the surviving marshals/Diadochi, except maybe Perdikkas, who inherited his position. Yet, like Leonnatos and Krateros, Perdikkas also died (relatively) early in the wars, and the Successors who outlived him (e.g., Ptolemy, Antipatros, Antigonos, Lysimachos, et al.) blackened Perdikkas’ memory.
Ergo, Hephaistion fades into the background until appropriated later by Hellenistic- and especially Roman-era rhetorical schools as part of popular anecdotes and topoi (conventional tales or themes) about Alexander.
Do you know HOW many times the “He is Alexander, too?” story appears? Sometimes positively, occasionally negatively. Same with Hephaistion reading (beside Alexander) a letter from Alexander’s mother. He also gets trotted out frequently as an example of Alexander’s lack of self-control, given the king’s “excessive” grief at his death (which seems to grow with each retelling).
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Yet NONE of those has to do with his role as chiliarch or his military accomplishments. Also, in Plutarch—probably the most popular history of Alexander*—we find nothing about Hephaistion as a commander, and little about politics. Plutarch tells us the king sent Hephaistion a little dish of smelts (or sardines); that Hephaistion and Krateros got into it with swords; that Hephaistion blamed Kallisthenes for the failure of the proskynesis banquet; that he ate a whole boiled fowl and drank a pitcher of wine on the morning of his death; and that Alexander called him Philalexandros. But if Plutarch were all we had, you’d never know Hephaistion was named chiliarch!
It’s largely the personal that came down to later historians…and movie-makers like Oliver Stone (or Netflix, even when their Hephaistion historian tells them to give him more to do; at least he got to intrigue with Mazaeus). One must go to the original histories and start making lists to realize just how much Hephaistion appears, particularly post-Baktria.
The man did have a career apart from being the king’s bosom buddy. 😒
As for whether he was exceptionally cruel, three problems complicate determining that: 1) biases in the sources, 2) biases of the people who knew him, and last, 3) simple cultural differences.
Let’s start with the last, as it’s mentioned in the ask. Hephaistion was one of three marshals who interrogated Philotas. To modern readers, use of torture strikes as horrific (as well it should). But in the ancient world, torture during questioning was standard, for some. A slave’s testimony wasn’t even admissible in court unless given under torture. (Otherwise, they believed a slave would lie to save their master.) Torture of arrested (lower-ranking) soldiers in military camp was also the norm, especially by the Roman era.
It’s not the torture itself that’s shocking. It’s who it was performed on: a high-ranking member of the Hetairoi. Arrian glosses over the whole thing because Philotas (Parmenion’s son) was tortured, not because torture was employed.
Also, there were three of them: Krateros, Hephaistion, and Koenos, Philotas’s brother-in-law, who didn’t want to go down with the ship so needed to distance himself (emphatically). Plutarch has Philotas, during the torture, beg Hephaistion for pity, while Alexander listens behind a curtain. Yet Plutarch’s point is what Alexander says regarding Philotas’s lack of fortitude—not who Philotas appealed to. We absolutely cannot trust details like this in Plutarch’s anecdotes! He changes out players, and details, as it suits him. Philotas’s supposed appeal to Hephaistion quite probably didn’t happen.
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But did Plutarch make Philotas beg Hephaistion in order to increase the reader’s impression of Hephaistion’s cruelty? Maybe. Yet in Plutarch’s version, it’s Krateros who’s the snake in the grass and out to get Philotas. So perhaps Plutarch is trying to imply Hephaistion was the soft-touch among the three. Despite Plutarch’s overall portrait of Hephaistion, I’m inclined to read it as the latter here. (For my article on the whole Philotas Affair.)
Still, it’s a good example of why just reading these stories and interpreting them with modern sentiments can (sometimes) result in serious misunderstandings.
The other two problems both concern bias, albeit among different groups.
As I just alluded to, our sources paint different portraits of Hephaistion. Plutarch probably has the most “negative” picture, and Curtius the most “positive.” Diodoros and Arrian are more neutral (but sometimes deceptively so, at least in Arrian). From positive to negative, I’d rank them: Curtius, Diodoros, Arrian, Plutarch. (Hephaistion’s barely in Justin, so I ignore him.)
Outside these histories, particularly in Roman rhetorical exercises, Hephaistion appears only in relation to Alexander. By then, he’d become a symbol, not an officer or even much of a person. Just Alexander’s echo: “Alexander too.”
Last, we have the biases of those who knew Hephaistion. I already noted that enshrining his memory was not particularly useful to the Diadochi, so they didn’t. Others may also have had reason to bad-mouth him. But not all, or we wouldn’t have the nicer assessments such as Curtius’s assertion that he was charming and didn’t push his place.
By the end of his life, he was Alexander’s righthand man with loads of power. That’s going to make enemies, and there were men at court afraid of him. Why isn’t clear. Was he fearsome because he was cruel and arrogant, or because he had the authority to break a man’s career (just as did the king)? It seems many of the people who were afraid of him (or disliked him) also feared Alexander. Except Krateros, who’s a special case.
Leaving him aside, we know Hephaistion also quarreled with Eumenes … but so did a lot of people, including rather infamously Antipatros. (Eumenes was also friends with Krateros.) Similarly, Arrian (7.18.1-5) relates that a certain Apollodoros told Alexander (in Babylon) about bad omens concerning him. But first, Apollodoros had asked his brother (a Seer) to sacrifice about Hephaistion, because he feared him. His brother said the omens were bad and sure enough, Hephaistion died shortly after. So Apollodoros asked his brother to sacrifice about Alexander, because he also feared him … bad again. Curiously, Apollodoros told Alexander, and got a pardon for his honesty.
Arrian recounts the story as part of his list of bad omens for Alexander in Babylon, so we’re not told why Apollodoros feared the two but may hazard a guess. Arrian sets the warning in Babylon, but most of the events predated that, going at least as far back as Ekbatana, and likely earlier.
Upon his return from India, Alexander had engaged in a lot of “house-cleaning.” Curtius (and Arrian, et al.) present him as exceptionally savage to some of those left behind to mind the store while he was away in the East. He removed them from their positions and even executed several—all based on negative accounts of their behavior in his absence, milking the populace and such. He supposedly didn’t give these noblemen a fair chance to defend themselves because he’d become easily swayed by flatterers and other courtiers with grudges (and—so Curtius—one of them was even, horrors!, a eunuch). There’s a LOT of Roman anxiety about imperial purges under this, as well as the standard template of growing tyrannical behavior that would (of course) result from Alexander’s Orientalizing.
So, we must interrogate the texts as to whether Alexander was unfairly harsh, or these men had earned their punishment. Even if Apollodoros told Alexander about the omens, it may have been to save his own neck by showing he’s really a “good guy after all.”
The negative press about Hephaistion all arises once he gained power and authority. Perhaps that’s because it went to his head, and he attacked his enemies. But it’s equally possible he went after wrong-doers in the name of the king, and they didn’t like it. After he was dead (and so was Alexander), those people got revenge with a poison pen, like Ephippos of Olynthos.
It might also be a bit of both the above. After all, in ancient Greece and Rome a moral man helped his friends and actively sought to hurt his enemies.
The upshot remains: we just don’t know what Hephaistion was like as a person. Curtius describes him as charming. Plutarch’s portrait is more hostile, but even that isn’t unmitigated. We’re reduced to “hints and allegations.” More specificity about him is what fiction is for. 😉
—————-
* Plutarch’s popularity owes to four things. His Life of Alexander is shorter than Arrian, Curtius, or Diodoros. It’s also heavily focused on personality and anecdotes, which are intrinsically more interesting to the average reader. Thid, it was more readily available than most others (even Arrian). Last, his Lives all lend themselves to reuse in sermons/etc. as moral lessons. A number of the stories that people know best about Alexander come from Plutarch.
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breadboylovin · 2 years ago
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i have animals to show off: fish edition
tenches (tinca tinca) are cutie little awkward guys
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but they have fucked up looking pharyngeal plates
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(via university of nottingham)
these european sturgeon (acipenser sturio) are autism creatures
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crevalle jacks (caranx hippos) are also just Guys
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monkey-face pricklebacks (cebidichthys violaceus) are silly in name and face
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surf smelts (hypomesus pretiosus) are equally goofy
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bonus: i just like that this man-of-war fish / nomeus gronovii parasphenoid looks like a sword
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(via UF's fish atlas)
YEAHHHHH LETS GO FISH TIME!!!!
the tench looks so O___O its very funny also i love any animal with a stupid repeating binomial name (gorilla gorilla....). i wont lie i dont know what a pharyngeal plate is (i HAVE heard of pharyngeal jaws tho) and i fr thought that was a slug or something before i noticed the teeth
those sturgeons are soooooo silly i love when animals have mustaches
the crevalle jack looks like he swims fast as fuck he looks right at home on a salt life t shirt or something
the monkeyface prickleback looks like a mudskipper but even sadder somehow. maybe hes sad that he doesnt even get to walk on land like they do
sadly the surf smelt is not my favorite because it just looks like a sardine or anchovy and i think those guys both taste bad and look too normal. i do still respect small schooling fish tho they look pretty all together like that. do you know if these guys are cleaner fish at all?
i didnt even know there was a man of war FISH thats fucked up. i watched this video of the dudes from hivemind (my fav youtube channel rn) learning about weird sea creatures and god SO MANY of them are just named after land animals we dont need to start naming them after other sea creatures too 😭
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sunsetsongwind · 2 years ago
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O K
i will say extremely random things - I once told someone that i would fight death with a tin of sardines and a dried carnation and win
probably my mom. as i get older, i realize more and more that no one is perfect, including, her, but she is still definitely one of my role models.
hmmmmmmmmmm @rowynri hello
my cat is the Best Cat in the entire universe. her name is Solis and i love her
uhhhh red for ff14 do not ask me why red i will not have an answer for you
if you look up elpis flower, also from ff14, they sell those. currently i am broke but eventually i would love one of those
hmmmm embroidery
depends on the occasion - I'll put on like a nice outfit and earrings if i'm going out, and then how i dress at home depends on how pretty i want to feel on any given day.
Make up is an almost never thing, except maybe concealer if i have a Huge pimple
if i have watched a movie like that, i wouldn't know it - i tend to not keep track of the ratings of movies
working my way through the new season of RWBY, and also introducing my family to Journey to the West, Overly Sarcastic Productions style. Cannot recommend enough
Sword Art Online with my dad! he loves that show, and I'm pretty fond of it myself. also, what do you mean which one someone cannot only watch one anime anyway
music, yes - i mentioned embroidery, and i love dancing - like the spontaneous kind, where you hear music and just need to dance
literally daydream. reading, embroidery, and other things are also options (as are youtube and tumble of course) but when i can't do any of those, daydreaming it is
one, except when i have a cold like lately. Then, i use one of my stuffed animals to prop up my pillow so that i do not simply Perish to congestion
erggghhh i do have trouble sleeping a lot. i only remember dreams if a. they were crazy or b. i tell them to someone else pretty soon after waking up.
not actually sure what hyperfixation would feel like so not sure. uhhhh probably g'raha tia from ff14 again though
well that is actually a Story. so here's the thing. hard phone cases, the kind where you have a colored shell and then a rubberish inside, can come apart. you can pull off the shell and leave the rubber. So at one point i decided to paint my phone case like the sheikah slate from breath of the wild. it looked... kind of horrible. so after a while i decided to try and pick all of the paint off. this failed, and it actually ended with the shell of the phone case cracking to the point where i could not put it back on. so, my phone case is currently solid black and flexible, with flecks of brown paint.
Can You Hear The People Sing, from Le Miserables. So, despite not watching a lot of One Piece, I am still a fan. a large part of this is due to This Bites by Xomniac, which you can find on AO3 or FF.net. It is So Good, and during a later part of the story (i don't want to spoil, sorry) that song is used as an anthem, and while I haven't seen Le Miserables, I'm pretty sure this is how it was intended to be used, and it was absolutely amazing. Just... so cool.
i made oatmeal raisin cookies! it has been good!
not a dream
Hey everyone, I've thought about some cute questions for you to answer so here they go, leave the answers in the replies or reblogs and tag people who you want to answer said questions as well. You don't have to answer all of the questions, no pressure, answer the ones you like if that's easier for you!
What's one thing that your friends say that applies to you? Like a quirk or something they know you for? Something they associate with you always?
Who inspires you in your life? I don't mean a celebrity, but a person you know, brag about someone incredible that is your inspiration.
Who do you consider to be your favorite person and why?
What's your favorite kind of animal? If you lived with said animal, what would you name them? If you have said animal, what is their name?
What color is your most recent obsession?
What's a little decor item that you want to own in the future?
Do you have any mundane but cute "talent"/thing you can do? Something just slightly unusual but also completely usual?
Do you like fashion? What kind of a dresser are you? More casual? Fancy?
Do you wear makeup? What's your go-to makeup look? If you don't wear makeup, have you ever thought of wearing it?
Recommend us one movie that the critics/public didn't like that much when it came out but you personally think is a hidden gem!
What show are you watching right now? Recommend it to us!
Have you ever watched an anime? If yes, which one?
What's your favorite kind of art medium? Recommend us an artist or show us an art piece (could be music, painting, crochet, whatever) that you really love!
What do you like to do when you are bored?
How many pillows do you sleep with, if any?
Do you have trouble with sleeping? Do you remember your dreams a lot or forget them as soon as you wake up?
Who is one cool character in something you've seen in your life that you hyperfocused on at a time in your life.
Show us your current phone case!
Recommend people a song that has meant a lot to you sometime in your life and share us the story about if you'd like.
How has your day been so far?
UwU - I love you!
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harrowreads · 2 years ago
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❥ Jimin Fic Recs
❣ Each blurb gives a glimpse of the contents of each fic, but be sure to read the warnings before proceeding! ❣
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❥ Conserve Your Strength by btsrunmyiife | drabble, tumblr ↳ You decided the best way to deal with your emotions was to hide away in a dark bedroom with your music. Jimin reminds you it’s okay to lean on other people sometimes. ❣ Gender Non-Specified Reader ❣ queer, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw | established relationship ↻ read my review
❥ Love the Way You Wear That by here2bbtstrash | oneshot, tumblr ↳ You can’t resist the handsome stranger that approaches you at your favorite gay bar, especially not when he’s wearing that skirt. ❣ Female Reader ❣ queer, smut, pwp | chance encounters, strangers to lovers ↻ read my review
❥ Melting For You by blog-name-idk | oneshot, tumblr ↳ It doesn't matter that he'd been on a date when he saw your story. Jimin will pick you every time. ❣ Gender Non-Specified Reader ❣ fluff, hurt/comfort | oh my god they were roommates, friends to lovers ↻ read my review
❥ Morning Rush by bluewhale52 | oneshot, tumblr ↳ Packed like sardines in a tin, that’s your fate this morning. Until you encounter a beautiful stranger on your morning rush to work. ❣ Female Reader ❣ non-explicit smut | chance encounters, strangers to lovers ↻ read my review
❥ A Siren's Call by jminssiii ↳ It was supposed to be a retreat, a vacation, but you find yourself being pulled towards the sea. You feel a deep yearning towards the sea and probably more for the man in the waters. ❣ Female Reader ❣ fluff, angst, sfw | fantasy au, strangers to ??? ❣ warnings: major character death! ↻ read my review
❥ Two In One by here2bbtstrash | oneshot, tumblr ↳ You finally have a much-needed smoke session with your best friends, just like old times. you’re also pretty sure they’re gay… right? ❣ Female Reader | Feat. Hoseok ❣ threesome, smut, pwp | friends to lovers ❣ warnings: they smoke weed ↻ read my review
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❥ Curse of the Serpent by colormepurplex2 | oneshot, tumblr ↳ Perseus, also known by his mortal name Namjoon, sets forth armed with godly weapons and a determination to do what others have failed– find and slay the creature known only as Medusa, who is rumored to be in a sea cave at the edge of the world. Only things aren’t always as they seem. Using his bronze shield as a mirror, Namjoon can see that there’s more to the story and that perhaps his sword isn’t the answer after all. ❣ Namjoon x Jimin ❣ angst, smut, fluff | enemies to fated lovers, greek myth au ❣ warnings: intent of murder, mention of violence ↻ read my review
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Namjoon | Seokjin | Yoongi | Hoseok | Jimin | Taehyung | Jungkook
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steve0discusses · 4 years ago
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S5 Ep7: Joey, Who Once Almost Beat Legendary Marik Ishtar, Promptly Loses to an Embarrassing Horse Guy
Y’all.
This update is only 11 caps. Nuts.
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I was kind of surprised when this episode just ended so abruptly. I really thought that this would be a 3-episode epic journey, and that Joey would die maybe one or two times, and everyone would be crying at the end, but like...I don’t think this arc has enough time to do that so we’re just moving straight on through this Zigfried nonsense at breakneck speed.
Normally I would just append this to the next episode which wasn’t that long either, but I’m still getting over my flu I got at my local DMV and so I’mma gonna take it slow and we’ll just do tiny updates.
So anyway, that’s where my brain is at, and I think that’s a perfect place for Yugioh. We start out this episode with this show actually pretending that what Zigfried is doing right here is weird:
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It would be weirder if these people DIDN’T talk to their cards in a loving, clearly not platonic, caress. I mean these cards were real boys like...recently...maybe 2 weeks recently--not sure how long that Yugi and team have been illegally stranded in the States and stuffed like sardines inside of Mr Hawkin’s RV...but it hasn’t been long enough for Zigfried to forget.
And I have to ask...what was Zigfried doing when the Oricalchos dropped and everyone got devoured into the great Leviathan? I mean this guy isn’t even slightly magical or even that bloodthirsty...so do you think he just kind of hid in his milk pool? Or was this guy like the first one in that great Leviathan on purpose? I feel like Zigfried would jump into that snake for an excuse to take a long nap and occasionally wake up to like talk to his horsey cards. He just seems like kind of a lazy villain that would love a break from his life problems.
(read more under the cut)
And, speaking of villains who need breaks from their life problems, Seto’s issue with the magma gets resolved pretty cleanly.
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What doesn’t get resolved is what happened to the copy-paste jpg of a classical painting that was hanging behind him last episode, but they probably put this blurry stand-in painting there so it would be less distracting. Unfortunately it is very green, so much like the last super-hi-def painting, I cannot look away.
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And Mokuba books it real fast out of there, saying some excuse of “I...better check on Seto...” and then he did literally nothing in Seto’s office.
But, I have to hand it to Seto, he has figured out the big bad of this season, and that’s some remarkable character growth for our normally oblivious Seto who usually has to jump through some hoops before he connects the dots.
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It does help when Zigfried is a type of person that no one would really forget meeting. It’s just really hard to hide if you have a personality like that. Like a hermit crab covered in glitter just moving from one horse-shaped shell to another horse-shaped shell.
Speaking of difficult personality, Rebecca is doing her best to make RebeccaxYugi Canon by declaring it on international television. Unsurprisingly, this joke act is more than actual canonical TeaxYugi have ever been.
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To the point that it’s almost like a very smart marketing ploy. Like if you aren’t interesting, just name drop other interesting duelists until you become the interesting duelist. She’s just out there actualizing her wishes and dreams, and who’s gonna say otherwise? Yugi?
Like hell Yugi would tell anyone the truth about anything. Her fake story is impossible to debunk.
Anyway, lots of cards get played that I don’t really go over here, and it was so many card shenanigans that it took the whole episode. Overall, Joey’s cards got removed from his deck one by one, and it was like a slowdeath (but also one of the fastest duels this show has ever had.) Joey didn’t overcome his temper, he got too emotional or whatever, and this happened:
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And Seto kind of looked over as Mokuba walked in the door and was like “sup?”
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Why is it that Mokuba hasn’t achieved chair privileges? Is it too hard for the animators to draw a chair? Or is Mokuba kind of too hyper for a swivel chair?
At the end, everyone tries to console/harass Joey until he tries to attack everyone here but the dark wizard.
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Maybe it was a good thing Mokuba wasn’t here to school his ass because Joey could really learn a little from the Kaiba perspective of “you lost because you played the wrong cards, dumbass.”
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the last scene was Joey jumping into the air and screaming “I GET NO RESPECT” and I feel like it was directly to the writers of this show.
I have mentioned this before, but Joey’s list of supernatural accomplishments in this show is as long as Yugi’s if you think about it, and yet...he’s still supposed to be...amateur at cards? The show does this sometimes, where we have to just buy that “Joey will be good at this one day” when like...I think he got good at cards! I think he already did that several seasons ago!
Joey was one of the 3 legendary guardians of the dragon swords last season, and although he did absolutely die last season--now he can’t win the baby tournament when up against just a little bit of lava (like he’s never seen lava before?)
But with the logic of the season, you can’t have the big bad go down to Joey Wheeler or else Yugi can’t play him. And honestly, how many times has it been kind of at the cost of the natural character logic that Yugi must go up against the big bad in every tournament arc? And like, this is just anime problems, that aren’t just about this show...
...and I don’t know how they’d better solve it. But, it’s the choice they made. Just make Joey’s luck run out, because he has a luck based deck or...whatever. It’s fine. It’s just one step closer to the Bakura arc when we discuss Egypt stuff so I think this is like...pretty forgivable. Although honestly, it would have made more sense if this were...not Joey Wheeler.
Like Duke Devlin is right there--I’d buy this being Duke Devlins loss over Joey. But...whatever, it’s fine.
Also, if you just got here, this is how you can read all these Yugioh caps in chrono order
https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono
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kurodachimagic · 3 years ago
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Chocolate and Cherries - Chapter 1
Summary: When Adachi falls into the arms of a kind stranger his life changes for the better.
Rating: Pg 13
Tags/warnings: Fluff, getting together, au, Writer Adachi, Chef Kurosawa.
Word count: 6.2k
A/n: This story was written for the cherry magic mini bang! Thank you @hiwatari-art for inviting me to join! Had a lovely time working with you as always. Thank you to my other artist over on twitter guacagabs. The entire story is being posted right now. Thank you to @schnaf for being a great friend and beta!
Read on ao3
Adachi dragged his feet on the pavement as he made his way home from work. He was already too exhausted to start his writing day with the best mindset but it would have to do. He’d already skipped four days this week and if he didn’t actually sit down to work on his book, it would never be published. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head slightly.
The situation was not ideal by any means, he was not great at cooking and it was already too late to start dinner, but he definitely needed to eat something or his mind would absolutely quit on him, he knew that much.
Adachi knew he should probably get something healthier but he refused to waste even more time walking to the store, so he decided to stop by the food cart near his flat for his usual emergency menu: two tuna onigiris with mayo - along with a can of soda in the hopes that the caffeine would boost his creativity. He was not too happy about it, but he didn’t have much time to contemplate his choice because as soon as he had paid, the first few droplets of water hit his shoulders. Looking up, he felt the next few drops hit his nose and his forehead. He cursed inwardly and simply took off awkwardly running the last few blocks home, trying his best not to slip and fall, his dress shoes nothing but a hazard in this particular situation.
The building door was so close, he could see it through the pouring rain; just a few meters and he would be home. Adachi rushed, his hand extended already to grab at the door handle when his body collided with something - someone - and fell backwards. It was as if time had slowed down; he could see the face of the person he ran into frozen in shock, his eyes widening as he saw Adachi falling, while Adachi could only think about the pain this would cause him, physical, yes, but mostly emotional. He always managed to get himself in embarrassing situations and now -
His neighbour extended his hand just in time to catch Adachi’s and pulled him upright effortlessly, his expression switching from shock to a relieved smile. “Are you ok? I’m so sorry, I hadn’t seen you.”
“Thank you! I’m so sorry,” Adachi said, feeling the heat rise to his face, partly because of his clumsiness and partly because his neighbour had not let go of him yet. In fact, Adachi could have sworn that the guy was rubbing his thumb on the back of his hand. He didn’t know what to do, so he tried again. “Uh, sorry. I should’ve been more careful.”
“It’s ok, I’m glad that you didn’t get hurt.” The man seemed to suddenly remember they were standing in the pouring rain and pulled Adachi to the door. “Come, you’ll catch a cold in this weather.”
No matter how hard he thought, Adachi couldn't remember ever catching his name but he had seen this man before in the elevator and in some of the common areas. He seemed to be a bit of a recluse, much like himself.
The man opened the door and finally let go of his hand before ushering him in. “After you, Adachi.”
Adachi’s eyes widened; he didn't know how the man knew his name, but he didn’t mention it. He walked inside and called the elevator, followed closely by his saviour. Once the doors opened, he stepped in and turned around, pressing the button for the fifth floor and finally facing the man. "Thank you, again…" he trailed off.
"Kurosawa. My name is Kurosawa." He pressed the fourth-floor button.
Adachi smiled and bowed to him. "It was nice seeing you, Kurosawa. Have a good night."
The elevator dinged and Kurosawa bowed with a smile before exiting. “Good night, Adachi,” he waved.
Adachi hesitantly waved back as the elevator doors closed. Before he knew it he was one floor up, opening the door to his flat, throwing his work bag on the sofa and taking his wet clothes off with a groan before going to the bathroom.
What a day. Not only had he stayed late to finish on that project Urabe had handed to him but he also made himself look like a fool in front of his very cool neighbour, and to add insult to injury now he needed a hot shower to hopefully avoid catching a cold. He shook his head and hopped under the stream, washing himself thoroughly and letting the hot stream relax his muscles.
Feeling in a bit of a better mood, Adachi got out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel and went about getting into a comfy set of pyjamas. He finally sat at his desk and opened the white doc of doom, checking the time and cursing as he realized it was 9 pm already. He slouched in his chair, throwing his head back with a groan. This book was going to take a million years at this rate, he really needed to prioritize his schedule, put on some good hours into it each day, especially during the weekend, he needed to -
Adachi’s stomach growled loudly, reminding him that his emergency dinner laid abandoned in its bag. He got up and stomped over to the sofa, unwrapping the onigiris and eating them without so much as a thought before returning to his spot. He promptly sat down to continue with the daily task of staring at the document while he begged his brain to type something - anything - out. But his mind had other plans though, Kurosawa’s face and gentle smile kept popping in his mind. Maybe it was because of the way he moved, how he had kept him from falling with his sharp reflexes, or maybe it was how elegant he looked even when he was soaking wet, how well his suit fitted him. Kurosawa was like some sort of superhero, or… no, he was more like a Prince Charming from an epic battle world. That was a start - it was not the murder mystery he had thought about, but it was definitely a start.
The sound of Adachi’s footsteps worked like a metronome, helping his mind settle into a rhythm. He was starting to see things in more detail: The brave prince paced in his castle, his sword close by his side, the problems his kingdom was facing were almost too much to bear and with his father on the brink of death, it was all on him. A shadow appeared above the citadel - the… the… ‘kingdom x’ was being attacked by a three-headed dragon. How would he fix this and save his people? Had someone sent the dragon or did it act with free will? Did the soon-to-be king have secret magic powers? Maybe they were a secret even to himself!
With renewed energy and excitement, Adachi sat down to work. This new world just wanted to be written, to become a reality, and he was not going to stop it. Aided by the occasional sip of soda and a few “stretching breaks” that were more like actual pacing, he managed to draft four thousand words by 5 am, effectively breaking his 3 thousand word record from just a few months ago. If he could keep up the pace he could finish the book within the next month and send it to Tsuge for editing and review. He sent a quick text to his friend to tell him the good news and got into bed; he would probably regret staying up so late tomorrow, but now he didn’t have it in him to care. Writing was definitely his call - even if he was very close to missing his goal of being a published author by 30.
---
The commute to work was nothing short of hell. The morning started with Adachi missing his usual train and having to take the next one during rush hour - not that he ever managed to avoid rush hour, but he usually took the first train during it so it wasn’t as crazy as later in the morning. This resulted in him having a very unpleasant ride, squeezed half to death between the sea of people, feeling like a canned sardine with a bad case of insomnia. That was the other issue, the previous writing night ended up being a success but even though he’d been exhausted by the time he was done, it had been impossible to fall asleep. Now he was on his way to a long workday with a pounding headache and a sour mood. If given the opportunity, Adachi would’ve chosen to take the day off to sleep and feel refreshed enough by sundown to continue writing.
His job was definitely a necessary evil, but sometimes he couldn’t help but resent it. On the verge of thirty, Adachi spent most of his day at the office, writing his reports, Urabe’s reports, and occasionally picking up the slack of some of his colleagues. There was barely any time for hobbies or relaxing and least of all to be an aspiring writer. To be completely honest, Adachi had started viewing his day job as his second career in the past year. His heart and soul were focused on his new goal, what he really wanted. In the end, if writing didn’t become his main income, it wouldn’t matter, he was passionate enough about it to continue no matter what. After all, living in the fantasy worlds he created was more than enough for him.
Adachi made it to his desk just on time, but running those last few blocks only served to make his mood even sourer. He pulled at the collar of his shirt with a small huff, still thinking about his writing and leaned back in his chair until it touched Urabe’s shoulder, startling him.
He turned around swiftly, blush already rising to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Senpai.”
Urabe nodded and waved him off. Then, he cocked his head and looked at Adachi in more detail. “What is going on with you, Adachi? You look tired.”
“I just had trouble sleeping last night, that’s all,” Adachi said with a heavy sigh. He could picture so many things he would rather do than give explanations about his personal life, but he would feel too guilty if he was rude to Urabe when he was only worried about him.
“Hmm, are you sure that’s all?”
“Yes. I’m ok.” He attempted his best smile. “Thank you for asking.”
“Adachi,” Urabe pouted, his brows burrowed into a childish frown, just like every time he would ask Adachi to take on more work, any semblance of concern already gone out the window. “Can you finish this report for tomorrow? The boss is really piling stuff on my shoulders and I already had other plans for today.”
Sometimes Adachi wished he was a bad person, or a bad colleague even, but he couldn’t help taking on the extra work when it was needed, after all, he didn’t have much of a life. He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“Oh, wait. Is your birthday today or tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
“And you’re turning 30, right?”
Adachi nodded once again, hoping to end the conversation as soon as possible; he didn’t want to be reminded of the passage of time or how much he hadn’t achieved by now.
Urabe rolled his chair closer and elbowed him. “Aaah, you sly weasel. Do you have a date?”
“Of course not. I’m just looking forward to getting home and sleeping.” That was literally his birthday plan.
Urabe frowned and gave him a quizzical look. “But you have... ‘dated’ before, right?” He winked.
Adachi shook his head slightly and saw the same look many people gave him, a mix of pity and judgement.
“You should ask one of the girls out. I’ve heard Yui is single and she’s very pretty!”
Adachi slowly turned his chair towards the copy machine and saw Yui across the room. She was, in fact, very pretty, but… she didn’t spark anything in him. She looked like a work of art, pleasant to look at, but not for him. “No, I don’t think that would work.”
“Adachi, if you don’t date someone by the time you turn 30, you will turn into a wizard!” He whispered.
“What? That’s ridiculous!”
“It’s true, you’ll see!”
Adachi rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk, finally starting on the reports needed. The sooner he was done with that, the sooner he could return to his writing.
--
The elevator opened its doors for Adachi and the ding that followed made his muscles relax instantly. Only a few more minutes and he would be up in his flat, taking his shoes off and cooking something quick before sitting down to write. He felt inspired by the beginning of this new story and he wasn’t about to let a bad day at work ruin that for him.
Just as the doors started to close, someone put a bag between them to keep them open. The first thing Adachi saw was a girl with a cute and gentle look, a black wispy fringe framing her face and a sweet smile. She nodded at Adachi and he smiled and nodded back. He wondered if he would ever date a girl like her, if sharing his life with a partner and doing things together would be so different than what he did now. The answer was probably not, since he assumed nobody would be supportive of him working all day and writing all night; if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really have time for a relationship, even if he sometimes yearned for a bit of company - theoretically. Adachi blinked repeatedly, suddenly crashing back into reality when he saw the looming presence of Kurosawa behind her, giving him a weird look he couldn’t quite place as he ushered the girl into the elevator.
Out of sheer awkwardness, Adachi nodded and mumbled a quiet hello at him, looking away as a blush crept onto his cheeks. Was that Kurosawa’s girlfriend? He groaned and let his head fall back against the elevator wall. He’d been caught staring at his neighbour’s girlfriend like a creep. He ventured a sideways glance and realized Kurosawa was still looking at him with a weird expression.
Thankfully, the ride was short and only a minute later, Adachi was home, barely paying any attention to his basic needs as per usual. He made some instant ramen and added a bit of egg to it before eating it mindlessly, daydreaming of his new story and the magic system involved.
Perhaps it was quickly becoming a much more ambitious project than he had anticipated but as long as the writing flowed, everything would be ok. What was supposed to be a long writing session soon turned into an early night after Adachi’s brain decided to shut down mid-sentence, putting him to sleep sitting at his desk, his head hanging down and his spine hunched over.
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willowaudreykeyes · 4 years ago
Note
Prompt: myths and chaos with Logan with the line “so apparently microwaving this ancient manuscript isn’t a good way to find out its secrets.”
Remus’ Puzzle Temple Of Friendship And Chaos
Warnings: Baby eldritch thing, tentacles, one eye, vague sexual reference that’s from a song
Platonic Logince, brotherly-and-on-good-terms Creativitwins and Intrulogical of whatever relationship interpretation that you want.
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Roman
“Remind me to thank your brother at dinner tonight.”
“That’s if we make it to dinner. And you all call me extra; he made an entire temple for us to explore within a week!” He spent a lot of energy on it too. I still remember the shaky finger he pointed at me after the second day of working on this Incan-like temple; slurring tiredly about not going into the space between our Kingdoms and ruining the surprise. He also forced me to carry him to his room as he dangerously swayed on his feet. I’ll have to thank him by working just as hard for his and Logan’s adventure after the two of us finish this one.
“I know; yet I’ve yet to thank him for doing so. And I must ask how long it took to make this language.” Taking my first glance at said language, I recognise it immediately as the first language that Remus and I had known. We had known it better than English at one point, until Patton insisted that we make English our main language so that we wouldn’t confuse Thomas. 
“Oh, we’ve always known it. We used to speak it in front of Patton as kids to confuse him and we still use it occasionally whenever we send a letter, or in his case a slab of mysterious leather, between our Kingdoms.”
“So you can translate this?”
“Of course!” I hold the slightly chipped black and red tablet out at arms length, quickly noticing that everything on the tablet makes no sense. No wonder he was so tired after every day in the Imagination; he even made us a puzzle. “It’s encrypted though, so we have to figure out what the cypher is first. And knowing Remus, it could be anything.”
He takes it from my hands and adjusts his glasses for the fiftieth time today before tapping his chin. I doubt Logan realises that he has so many visual tells when he becomes passionate and interested. “He would leave a clue somewhere where we could find it. He’s chaotic, not unfair.”
“Aha!” In a spark of inspiration, I rough up my hair and gain a huff of defeat from the neighbourhood nerd as I do the same to his own. It had dust from the temple in it anyway. “We just have to think like Remus! Now what’s the most logical place to put a cypher for this thing?”
“Where we found it.”
“Okay. Now what’s the opposite of that?”
His eyebrows do that cute thing where they pinch down a bit when he’s confused. I don’t bother hiding my smile as his eyes shift around, taking in invisible words as he tries to find my line of thinking. “I’m… not following. The opposite of where we found it is every room that we didn’t find it in, and we went through forty-three rooms and eight hallways; perhaps half or less of the entire temple judging by the size and spacing between each room.”
“And only twelve not-too-tough traps, which is less then his usual quota…” Probably because of the exhaustion, but I should have figured that out earlier. I’ll up the level of hazards in his next one as a double thank you for his hard work. “Anyway, we must think chaotically if we are to beat the chaotic one!”
With a silent nod, he attempts to fix his hair as I take in our camp and the temple before us. It’s very reminiscent of an Incan temple in design yet is mainly made out of pitch black obsidian; with intricate wall carvings engraved with pure ruby, emerald, moonstone and diamond; and a whole lot of animal and human skulls that are packed tightly into every ceiling. And I must say, adding the creatures from both of our Kingdoms as the wall carvings is a nice touch. 
Except I won’t say it out loud because the majority of them are of naked people, naked cannibals and of naked murders. 
At least our camp has some more class to it! Logan wished for something realistic, but was soon swayed by my enchanted Harry Potter tent that’s magically large enough to have a working bathroom and still look like a ‘regular’ camping tent from the outside. I do like regular camping, but I prefer to have a shower after a tub of Thomas-knows-what is dropped over us and getting into every uncomfortable crevasse. Just thinking about that disgusting concoction makes me shudder.
“... Perhaps our microwave?”
I snap my gaze back to him, beaming at his rather shy sounding remark. He always sounds shy when he says something that deviates from his path of logic. At least he’s opening up a little more. “Perfect! I knew you’d think of something!”
“It was the first usable thing that I saw. Were you daydreaming again?”
“Nope- Using the microwave to solve a cypher sounds like something Remus’ mind would think up. He did mix sardines, lettuce and one of your ties in the blender before drinking it once.” I mumble the last half -I probably shouldn’t out Remus just yet for drinking Logan’s tie a few months ago- and put the tablet in the microwave and set it to three minutes. Three is the magic number after all.
“Did you say something?” 
“Mumbling ideas to myself is all!”
The microwave suddenly glows a bright purple and I manage to drag Logan in close before blocking something from hitting the both of us with my summoned shield. With a pop, crackle, fizz and several loud noises that sound like tearing metal; I risk peeking over it in perfect sync with Logan. The sight of three large tentacles wiggling out of the new holes in the camp's microwave brings out a sigh from me. A very loud sigh. Remus could probably hear it and currently giggling to himself from the comfort of his bedroom.
“It may be best not to touch those. Or the microwave.”
“But the tablet!” Logan pushes by my shield and barely escapes my reach before I am able to pull him away. With a straight posture and a quick slick back of his hair, he opens it and nearly jumps into my arms Scooby-Doo style from the loud pop that occurs. I’m in front of him again within a moment, but the usual feeling of hostility that Remus puts on his dangerous creatures as a warning is lacking. At least this thing won’t try and face-hug me like that faceless chicken that guarded the temple did.
Inside was a brown-black-blue ball of tentacles, with three longer than the others that retract out of the newly-made holes in the microwave. My heart stutters as a singular, goat-like, boysenberry coloured eye opens from one of the many seams in the creature; just to quickly dart it’s vision between the two of us before landing it’s creepy gaze on Logan. “Huh. So apparently, microwaving the ancient manuscript isn’t a good way to find it’s secrets- but a great way to hatch an eldritch abomination.”
“If you’d hand me a blanket, perhaps bringing it with us would be advantageous in future explorations.” Of course he wants to bring the nightmare creature; he always does. I hand him the nearby dish towel instead as I don’t feel like leaving this thing alone with Logan would end nicely.
“As long as you're carrying it.”
“Of course; you’re the one with the sword and shield.” I’m rather sure that that means that he would make me carry the disgusting creature if I wasn’t the one with our only ways of defending ourselves; and I don’t know if I should dramatically put my hand to my chest in horror or just pout.
I go for the pout.
Only for it to be rather rudely ignored as he cradles the little beast in its new home, wrapping it’s longer tentacles around Logan’s hands and attempting to remove his watch for a moment before I manage to grab it before they do. Logan’s too busy holding it in one hand and going through his cue cards to notice though. “And I shall name it as randomly as I can; since Remus seems to name all of his creations.” 
“Why?”
“It’s only polite to follow custom; and the custom for Remus is to name his creatures.” I hate everything about this -plus the tablet is just full on missing or destroyed now too- but Logan seems enraptured by the little thing. I roll my eyes and put on my backpack as Logan already begins walking up the temple steps. We just had lunch, so we have a chance of leaving before dinner, but I highly doubt it.
Despite not being able to see, the creature manages to grab out one of the cue cards from Logan’s hand before letting him snatch it back. With a quick smile after reading it, he pockets them all again before getting a better hold of the thing before it runs away and eats a whole deer or something. “It’s name shall be Anaconda-Do-Not.”
God-fucking-dammit Remus. I frown at the thing as we enter the fire-lit entrance, glad that its eye is hidden under the dish towel. Sheep eyes have always kind of creeped me out; especially on things that aren’t sheep. “You’re not allowed to hang out with Remus, Virgil or Janus anymore if they keep giving you those weirder cue cards.”
“This one’s from Remus. It’s a metaphor about-”
“I KNOW WHAT IT IS!” A light pain follows my facepalm, but I ignore it and march onwards. Hoping to get rid of this thing as quickly as possible. “Let’s just… go shove it into a keyhole or something already.”
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By the way, I really hate that stupid Anaconda song and so I know that it’d be perfect for Remus. Hopefully the ending is alright because it was the only bit I really had issues with ^^’
Oh and Remus definitely fell in love with the new Eldritch creatures name.
@ladyedwina @5am-the-foxing-hour @sparrowofsong
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hankwritten · 4 years ago
Text
Crinoline
Demoman/Soldier, 3k
Request for hyper messed up, Masquerades
“You’ve already managed to get cocktail sauce on your finery. Fantastic.” Spy pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose, nails making little indents the sequined cloth that had replaced his usual mask. He’d also changed into a different name for the evening, but Jane had aggressively forgotten it; he would always be Spy, and that was that.
“No one’s looking at our frilly blouses, crouton,” Jane said. “It is amazing they aren’t blinded entirely with how much glitter we’re wearing, let alone see past all this glitz-crap to notice a little shrimp juice.”
“You’d be surprised how keenly the eyes in this room are watching.”
This, Jane speculated, was not said to him in particular, but rather Spy talking to himself as his gaze swept over the party. He did that sometimes. Just babbled about like Jane was another piece of fancy furniture.
“Just lie low,” Spy reminded him. “Keep your ears open, see if you can learn something that might be to our advantage. You remember what we’re going here, yes?”
“We are getting the war back on!” Jane brightened instantly.
“No,” Spy hissed, covering Jane’s mouth with a gloved palm, glancing around in case anyone had heard them. “Not tonight, at the very least. We are merely looking for an opportunity that, should the King wish it, we could use to spark something out of the stagnant peace Cerulea has been forced into.”
That all sounded like getting the war back on to Jane. “Cssfr,” he corrected around Spy’s hand. Spy rolled his eyes, and withdrew it. “Ceasefire,” Jane repeated. “Not peace.”
“Yes, yes, whatever satisfies your constant and vocal bloodlust,” Spy waved away. “That doesn’t change our job. Rub some elbows. Blend in.”
“These dinky little masks really going to keep anyone from recognizing us?” Jane self-consciously pushed at his half mask as he said it. “Maybe they’re inviting Ceruleans into their shindig, but that doesn’t make us in particular welcome.”
“You wear a helm on the battlefield. Trust me, as long as you don’t start shouting ‘die Scarlet scum’ in that baritone you oh so love to show off, no one’s going to match a voice to a name. We are anonymous, General. Just as everyone else.”
Jane growled. He didn’t belong here among fancy wines and stinky cheeses—he should be back out on that battlefield, but as long as doddering nobles were clicking their heels at ceasefire, he was stuck here playing spy. The men and women around him talked of peace and stability but, he could smell the venom underneath, rancor in every vein as they patted themselves on the back for plugging a dam with a thumb. Too much bad blood had been spilt, and no grand masquerade would un-spill it.
They were all pampered up with elegant gowns and find doublets that could buy a whole company’s supply of swords, wearing masks that shed their national identities in the spirit of camaraderie. Or hid them, in Jane’s case. His mask was an even balance of red, white, and blue, no clue as to the terror of the man underneath, who’d last summer stood across enemy lines from some of the very people in this room.
“I see you’re giving this your upmost concentration,” Spy deadpanned as Jane scanned the ballroom. “Let us split up then. I have no doubt that will make at least one of us more efficient.”
Jane let him go with a shrug.
At least the food was good. He helped himself to more shrimp, and walked through the chatting masks as their voices turned to noise around them. In the center people danced, swaying in time to the music, an overwhelming concerto that filled the vaulted ceilings despite their size. Despite his contempt…maybe it was a little beautiful. It chased and swelled-
And at its crescendo, Jane caught sight of him.
A man, dressed in black and gold, a long sash tied over one shoulder and stretching down to cover his arm, stood still as the crowd undulated around him—an anchor among swaying kelp. Instead of the standard upper mask to cover the eyes, his instead hid the entire left half of his face, not even a gap in the lacquer for an eyehole. What could be seen was impossibly handsome: dark skin, immaculately kept facial hair that revealed the strength of his jaw, a smile that quirked as he tilted back his drink. As though he knew something no one else in the world did.
Jane was so struck, he couldn’t even glance away when he turned and met his eyes. The mystery man’s grin grew even wider.
A heat in his cheeks, Jane beat a hasty retreat into the throngs, berating himself all the while. What was that about? He couldn’t be getting all flustered at random strangers he met eyes with across a crowded ballroom, not when there was a mission on.
He shook himself, and took a drink off the nearest tray. It was time to eavesdrop, then. The Scarlet King hadn’t show up yet, but Redmond was half-dead anyway, and he had plenty favored families underneath him that might have a key to the kingdom. Or a key to the kingdom’s destruction, preferably. He’d almost managed to make another circuit of the ballroom when someone crashed into his side.
“Ach, sorry there lad,” a rich voice greeted him, steadying Jane’s drink so it didn’t go flying over them both. “Seems we both came at each other a bit fast, eh?”
Jane lifted his head, and his mouth went dry. It was the same stranger from before, now inches away from him, a warm hand around Jane’s wrist.
“You.” Jane had meant it to come out as an accusation, but his tongue wouldn’t behave the way he wanted it to. “Are you following me?”
“Me? Nah,” the man said. “This was probably a coincidence. Hand of fate. Couldn’t be that I saw a good looking man and came over because I thought he might be interesting to talk to.”
“Well jokes on you, buster. I have been told many times that I am a terrible conversational partner!”
“Dunno ‘bout that,” he replied with a twinkle in his single visible eye. “We’ve only been talking for half a minute and I’m already having a much better time than I was before.”
Jane found he couldn’t look away from that smile, that he hadn’t yet pushed the friendly hand away. It took a concentrated effort to avert his gaze. “You’ve got some odd tastes then.”
“Maybe. But I would like to talk with you more…If that’s alright?”
For the first time the easy charm slipped slightly from the man’s face, and Jane couldn’t help but feel bad for being so brusque. Mission, he reminded himself, but…dammit.
“It’s alright,” Jane said, a little too eagerly. “I mean, I would like that. To talk to you more. Even if you mince your words obtuse and confusing ways!”
The stranger chuckled, patient and mild. “Glad my obtusedness isn’t off-putting.”
“Your obtusedness also isn’t a word.”
“Isn’t it? Maybe I’m just mincering it.” He grinned as Jane snorted, and offered, “you want to take a step outside? You look a little warm.”
He was, hot around the collar where this man had made him feel in minutes with just a few flirtatious words. The veranda was sweet relief then, looking over the sprawling gardens, staircases on either side that could take you down into mazelike hedges below. Several couples milled about in the cool night air, but far fewer than inside, and Jane already felt better.
“Place is like a sardine can,” Jane noted as he leaned backwards against the railing.
“Aye, seems like the whole country’s in there.”
It struck Jane that he didn’t know which country he meant, that he might’ve quite possibly been lured out here by a Scarlet. He didn’t want to believe that though; it was better to think this wasn’t his hated enemy, that as long as he didn’t know he could pretend they were both blue at heart. Or, hell, even the neighboring countries of Amberny and Chartruel had sent delegates to mooch off the finger food, why couldn’t it be one of them?
So actively was he blocking out alternatives, he realized it was his turn to speak, and the stranger had been waiting on him for a minute now. “So,” he began, haltingly, “what’s your name?”
“Oh you can’t just ask that at a masquerade, laddie,” the black-masked man teased, leaning next to Jane. “Where’s your sense of mystery?”
Jane grit his teeth, reminded unflattering of Spy. “Fine then. What do I call you?”
“Hm. How about Finn?”
“If that’s what you like, fish boy.”
Finn snorted, and tilted his head back. Jane mirrored him, glancing at the stars that spilled out above the castle’s spires, white lights sparkling next to the golden squares of arrow slits. Their arms brushed, the faintest touch as Finn leaned toward him, and Jane was sure he was going to ask for his name.
Instead he said, “care for a walk?”
Jane glanced at the hedges behind him. “In there?”
“I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.”
“How dare you! My sense of direction is impeccable! I have entered the wilderness between Cerulea and Scarlend twenty-eight times on purpose, just to find my way back out again!”
Jane wound up getting them lost for thirty minutes. It was nice though, the good sort of lost where you’re not really trying to find your way back home, just learning more out about where you are. Finn talked all the while. It was nice to hear him talk, and Jane couldn’t believe how easily he could slide from one topic to another, how suddenly he’d be telling a story about wizards and dragons then jump to economics and Jane would still be hanging on his every word. At some point during their journey, they had started holding hands. Jane wasn’t sure who initiated.
They swung their hands between them, and as Jane gazed sidelong at his newly acquired companion, he thought he’d never known a more perfect human. He didn’t even care if he turned out he was Scarlet, he just wanted to keep listening to this man and never stops.
The music grew louder as they ascended the steps back to the veranda. Finn gazed inside, the sounds of shoes tapping on polished floor almost drowning out the joyous laughter of intoxicated guests.
“…Would you do the honor of dancing with me?” he asked.
Immediately, Jane was yanked rudely to the present. He remembered he didn’t belong here, that nights of passion and softly whispered words wouldn’t take blood and corrosion from his bones.
“I don’t know how,” Jane said, a truth if it had to be.
“Can I show you?”
He didn’t belong here, but Finn looked at him so hopefully, with such adoration in his eyes…
“Alright,” Jane found himself saying.
Finn lead him back the ballroom, the masked side facing Jane so there was only the etched gold to know him by. It felt as though every veiled eye was upon them, watching Jane, knowing he would falter before even taking the first step.
Finn stopped, arms raised, a smile across his cheek as he waited for Jane to join him. He did, falteringly, and the music began.
The steps flowed like water. Finn the stream and Jane the leaf being carried along, left after right after left again. The waltz was as simple as they came, but every few seconds terror set into Jane’s legs, and they threatened to seize up on him. Every time he was sure he would fall. He never did. He was pushed, and pulled, and the rawness in his throat was hard to tell apart from exhalation.
“Why did you come talk to me?” he couldn’t help but ask in between gulps of air. He could hardly breath from the tension, but still he asked. “We barely looked at each other, why me?”
“You were…different,” Finn said as they spun dangerously close to another couple on the floor. “Everyone around here is so stuck up their own arses, and there was just something about you that…”
“Different’s not always a good thing.”
“Mmm. Sometimes you take a chance on different. Might find the most interesting person you’ve ever met.”
Jane had been ‘interesting’ before. It was always said with an air of disdain, the assumption that they meant something else entirely when they said ‘interesting’ behind their gloved hands. But not when Finn said it. From Finn it was an embrace, tight like the hand in the small of his back.
He pressed his face where Finn’s neck met his collarbone.
The dance was the longest moment of Jane’s life, yet over far too quickly. A grand bell chimed the hour.
“Ach, I’ve got to go for a bit,” Finn said, parting gently from Jane’s grasp. “Can I meet you by the fountain?”
“The fountain?”
“Where I first bumped into you.”
Jane’s eyes landed on it, giant golden serpent with water flying from its nostrils into the pool below. By the time he’d looked back, his companion had already wedged himself partway into the crowd.
It felt like he was dreamwalking. Every moment with the lights so bright and the smell of food and perfume clogging his nostrils made him think he’d been put under a spell, and that’s why he was having a hard time making it to the fountain. Maybe he should find Spy. Explain to him that there was magic at work here. Or, if that wasn’t the case, then that he’d fallen head over heels for a warlock in a black and gold mask.
“Where have you been?”
Oh, he’d found Spy after all. Or Spy had found him? How long had he been standing under the fountain, staring dreamily out at the bustling partygoers.
“Met someone,” Jane said.
“Met someone?” Spy groaned. “We are not here meet people unless we are seducing them out of information. Which, judging by that look on your face, you did not.”
“The only look on my face is the final thing my enemies see before I send them to their graves! I do not know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s nothing new,” Spy frowned. He glanced over his shoulder. “And we’re out of time. The night is almost over.”
Jane followed Spy’s gaze to the plinth standing over the ballroom, where it appeared the King was putting in an appearance after all. How he was still alive Jane would never guess, though if he had to hazard one he’d say dark magic of some sort.
But, as Redmond’s creaky voice addressed his subjects—half stiflingly welcoming his guests and half grumbling that they would have been victorious if the war had gone on—Jane found himself drawn to a very different sight on the plinth. Surrounding their ailing King, all waiting for him to crumble to dust so they could personally lay siege to his heirless throne, the noble families of Scarlend gathered. The oldest of money, whose purses kept the red armies armed and dangerous.
The dream shattered like a bucket of water dumped over his head.
“Spy,” Jane tugged his sleeve, never taking his eyes off the plinth. “Who are they?”
Spy idly cocked his head in the direction Jane was gesturing. “The DeGroots, I believe. They have the strongest claim to Redmond’s throne, but whether they’ll have the actual gumption to beat out the Bidwells remains to be seen.”
The King’s favored aristocrats. And there, standing uncomfortably among the clan all wearing similarly designed masks, was Finn.
Or Tavish as Jane gleaned while Spy continued to prattle on, running over exactly he thought each family’s chances were for snagging the crown. He barely noticed as Jane grew colder, lead in his gut weighing him to the floor.
Tavish looked immensely uncomfortable, as though he’d rather be anywhere else besides behind the King as he made his speech. He kept trying to shuffle himself behind his relations despite his height, but a stern looking woman whose mask covered her whole face kept pulling him forward again. When Redmond was finally ushered back to his pallet chair, ending rather suddenly mid-tirade and collapsing into it, Tavish was the first to make his escape.
Jane didn’t hear Spy’s snide comments to do better. He didn’t move as people began to push past him to get to the fountain, or notice that he was alone again. All he could do was stand there as his heart crumpled.
He couldn’t be here under the fountain, he realized suddenly. This was where he and F- he and Tavish had planned to meet up. If they were seen together any more than they already had been…
Even as he thought it, he caught sight of gold flitting through the crowd. He pushed, shoving against the people who’d been bumping him a moment before, desperately trying to make enough space to pass. His feet took him outside, to the gardens, and he breathed in relief as a breeze pulled at the scarf around his neck. Good. The night was almost over. A little longer and he would disappear from the party, never to be seen again.
“There you are!”
Jane froze as the sound of fine shoes walked through the garden’s tended gravel.
“Been looking all over for you,” Tavish said, and then froze when Jane whipped around. The stared at each other for several seconds, neither saying a word, Jane’s mouth a firm line. “…You saw me up there, didn’t you?”
“You’re a DeGroot,” Jane replied. He didn’t know what else to say.
“Ach…bloody hell…” Tavish rubbed the back of his neck. “Look I just…I wanted nobody to know me for once. You don’t know what it’s like being with people like them all the time and I…” He looked up. “And I really liked pretending for a night.”
“Don’t look at me like this doesn’t change everything.”
“Why does it have to?” Tavish took a step toward him. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and I-”
“Because you’re Scarlet, maggot,” Jane hissed, ignoring how Tavish’s declaration still made his stomach flutter. He couldn’t let this man have control of his heart, he couldn’t.
That finally made him get it. “…And I take it you aren’t?” The silence was the only answer he needed. But when it kept going the visible half of Tavish’s face scowled, and he said, “it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Please tell me this doesn’t have to matter.”
He reached forward to take Jane’s hands.
“You still don’t get it!” Jane said, yanking away. “It does matter, and you know why?”
Jane reached up and ripped off his mask.
Several fearful seconds ticked by, Tavish’s mind visibly ticking away at the new information before his eye widened in shock. He took a step back. “You’re one of the Generals.”
And goddammit it hurt to watch the betrayal climb across Tavish’s face. It hurt, and now Jane knew what he had put Tavish through just a moment ago.
“…We’re both dead if we keep this up,” Jane said. “My side or your side, won’t matter which one catches us.”
“I…” Tavish wouldn’t look at him. He didn’t blame him. If they’d met a month ago, they would have killed each other no questions asked.
“I’m sorry.” The genuine regret leaked out of Jane and into their secluded corner of garden. “For what its worth…you’re the most amazing person I’ve met too.”
A line of silver ran from the corner of Tavish’s eye, catching in the full moon.
Jane couldn’t help it. He reached forward and wiped it away, wishing he could do something to fix this, almost wishing he’d never said anything at all. What did it matter? What did it really matter when he risked his life every day he put on his armor and charged off into battle? It was for a far less worthwhile end than the person in front of him.
The thumb that had brushed aside the tears moved sideways. Tavish tensed, but didn’t stop him when Jane’s nail slipped underneath the mask and drew it away.
There was no eye beneath. Jane had begun to suspect that was the case, but even if he hadn’t there was nothing that could shock him about Tavish’s appearance, nothing that could turn him aside. The hand not holding the mask rose up to warmed skin, wanting to be closer, to feel more of him.
He brought their mouths together. His eyelashes flicked wet where they touched against Tavish’s cheek, and when Tavish pressed down to meet him, he let the kiss turn hungry. Their tongues flit against each other, searching, wanting desperately to know one another.
“…I still don’t care,” Tavish whispered desperately in-between kisses. “I don’t even want what they have planned for me I just…”
“I know.”
And that was the part where Jane should’ve said ‘I know, but’, where he should have reminded Tavish of their respective loyalties. Their duties. But if he was going to abandon every one of his principals, he might as well do it in style.
So when Tavish pressed their foreheads together and said, “take me with you,” Jane stalwartly replied, “okay.”
They found Spy an hour later, one of them ruddy-faced and the other very ruffled.
“Oh good,” Spy sighed. “I suppose this is the someone…who you……..met……..” His voice trailed off as he fully took in the figure at Jane’s side.
“Spy!” Jane declared. “I have found a way to start the war back on!”
“‘Lo,” Tavish waved, still a bit dazed.
“…..”
“Tavish here has agreed to elope with me!” He said, squeezing Tavish around the shoulders. “We are going to run away to Cerulea together, and he’s going to stick it his parents!”
“More like my Mum, but aye.” Tavish looked sideways at Jane with adoration.
“…Yes I suppose that would quite piss them off,” Spy said faintly.
“Great! So we can grab another horse then?”
That snapped Spy back into focus. “Three day’s ride, two if we push the horses…that should keep us ahead of their retinue…”
He began to mumble calculations to himself, and Jane was glad to have him around for once. Schemes were exactly the sort of thing Spy excelled at.
His head jerked up. “It’s a serviceable plan. Dangerous, and not what we were sent here to do, but running off with the crown prince will surely achieve our goal. Hurry! Every minute in the saddle is one less without arrows aimed at our backs.”
“He always like that?” Tavish asked as they were swept out in the flood of guests.
“You get used to it.”
“Suppose I will. I’ll get used to a lot of things.”
The two of them giggled, and Spy rolled his eyes as they hurried into the night.
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xiiaoshuo · 4 years ago
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❛ ⇀ from @kalixus — !!!
       . ✧ . * . ˚  KALIX SHUDDERED.    he tried to place the bad feeling in his stomach as he sat in the designated meeting spot.  he usually did what he could to gather intel on his employers.  some deserved a scare more than their assigned hits and well —— context helps. it always helped.  it was what gave him his edge.
       “  sardines.  ”  kalix shrugged as they sat across each other at this incredibly inconspicuous speakeasy  (  sarcasm fully intended  ) .  “  can’t stand them.  ” 
       twenty questions wasn’t exactly what he was expecting in playing this little game of chess with the other.  aelius had this way of alluding to the amount of power he held through his nonchalance , which was a rare quality in people like him.  people who saw zeros followed by commas , not decimals.  he took a sip of his drink and wondered where aelius was going with this , was this a strange game of chess or was kalix thinking too hard?  was that what aelius wanted from him?  
       kalix looked up when he heard a familiar voice.  he looked at aelius with a silent but telling expression that said  :  are you fucking serious?  he silently watched the target  sit down in a booth across the bar , but upon looking back at aelius —— he couldn’t help but make the his next question a fairly straightforward one. 
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       “  what are you playing at ?  ”  this was way too far from his style.  years of taking the time to know everything about the client and the target , planning the tactics and picking a place that he could control and know everything about  ;  this place passed none of his requirements.  there was nothing about this in their agreement , if one could even call it that.  the client , the hired gun , and the target in one room with about twenty other people. 
        what the fuck is he playing at ?  
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aelius ╳ ⋮  ————— IT'S NOT VERY nice to play with your food && more often than not , it's an act in asking for trouble . go slow , think smart , be efficient : those are the guiding principles && sticking your neck out there just because you think you can doesn't fall much into any of those camps . but aelius would admit that kalix required a different touch—in that he needs one at all . most hires go about their business with minimal contact : only as much as it would take to get the job done && then they'd part ways . no real names , cryptic notes disguised as shopping lists , physical cash wrapped in inconspicuous amazon packages . no trail , no evidence beyond circumstantial && aelius has a handful of his own people on the inside to make sure it stays that way . 
but aelius would admit : kalix is a wild card dealt in a hand he's never seen before . && he has a feeling the others gathered at the table have already familiarized themselves with the kind of plays he'd make , so it was time to get a little creative .
the twenty questions were more to pass the time && give the crowd here time to forget about them . after all , aelius isn't so foolish as to not notice that they were an odd pair but given enough time , they'd become background scenery , too . the questions were also to get under kalix's skin—mostly for no other reason that he wanted to && to remind kalix that he could . meeting here , aelius could already sense that kalix is getting skittish on him , which is a double-edged sword he’s trying not to fall on . he appreciates the respect , he doesn't know what that fear might push him to recklessly do .
positioned like he is , aelius sees the target walk in long before kalix does but nothing about his body language suggests that he does . he lets kalix spot them on his own && he gives his drink a half-hearted mix.
“ that's number twenty-one . ” he lets the black stirrer fall from his fingers , now drifting slowly in the swirling liquor of the glass . “ seems like you're out of questions   . ” – [ 💸 ]
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itsuki-minamy · 4 years ago
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“K - THE FIRST STORY”
CHAPTER 3: THE SWORD, THE CAT, AND THE SEVEN KINGS (Part 3 / End)
Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia
* Prologue: Side: The Boy * Chapter 1: The boy named Isana Yashiro * Chapter 2: Flames * Chapter 3: The Sword, the Cat, and the Seven Kings (01 / 02)
Humans, if they're too hungry, their heads won't work.
The boy is accused of murder, he is about to be cut by a guy with a sword, a naked girl shows illusions, and loses the power to think deeply about them. He just remembered the relief that Neko, who was running naked, put on his jacket properly because it was so cold in the middle of the night.
Now the three of them aren't even sure what purpose they were pursuing, and are kneeling in the boy's room, which is the beginning, to get rid of his harsh breath. The fatigue and hunger from not having eaten since last night seems overwhelming.
In the hallway of the student dormitory, the peaceful buzz of boys and girls trying to go to school in uniform resounded, like "Good morning." and "Did you do your homework?"
Kuro was also tired of being thrown during the night. Still, he has not lost sight of his purpose, and when he stands weakly to his feet, he reaches for the sword at his waist.
"Bad "King"... Isana Yashiro... By order of the dead "King"... You..."
However, since he has escaped many times, he is very weak. Also, there is swirling graffiti on the raised Kuro's left cheek, with "stupid" on the right cheek and "meat" on the forehead. It was written by Neko while being carried away by illusion. However, while chasing him, she got used to it, so she didn't laugh anymore.
Looking at Kuro, who was trying his best to draw his sword, the boy was confused on what to do, with a feeling that was different from the already imminent sense of crisis and was mixed with a slight sense of humor.
At that moment, a sad sound and signal was heard. It's Neko's belly.
"Shiro, I'm hungry… Ah~"
At what was said, the boy's belly screamed and responded.
"At the moment... aside from the accumulated stories, why don't we eat?"
At the boy's suggestion, Kuro frowned, "What...?", But his belly obediently complained of hunger.
The boy was flirting and standing up to him.
"Thanks for your support."
It's okay to put the problem aside for the moment and eat, but the boy had no other household skills than cooking rice.
It seems that Neko loves to eat too, but she can't seem to cook like a natural thing, and when they stood in the kitchen and talked about how they could make something that they could eat, it seemed like they couldn't make it. He stood up.
When he sees a briefcase that appeared to be stuffed with guns on the table, does he want to kill before meals? Although it was loud, when he opened it, there were some kitchen gadgets like his own kitchen knife and condiments that he thought were professional.
What kind of person is this guy, a chef who thinks he is a samurai? The boy is confused and watches Kuro's tendency.
Kuro first looked inside the refrigerator and looked at him.
The contents of the refrigerator in the room of the boy who does not cook is deficient. There are some ingredients that can barely be made with miso soup, but there is nothing that can be a side.
"Shall we go shopping? Because there is something like a supermarket on campus."
"I want to eat fish!"
Kuro looked at the boy and Neko with a hard look, and fell silent with a thoughtful look for a moment. Finally, he turns to Neko instead of the boy.
"Do you want to eat fish?"
"Yes!"
"Then buy three horse mackerel. The skin is crispy and the inside is smooth and juicy."
"Nyaa!"
Neko happily makes her eyes shine.
"If you put some soy sauce on the freshly baked horse mackerel, it tastes great. Because it's simple, it tastes universal and happy."
Horse mackerel, Neko sniffed at the drool.
"Then let's buy eggs. Do you like rolled eggs?"
"Dashimaki?"
"It is a dish that is made by mixing many sardines with broth and eggs, and rolling it while baking. It is a soft and smooth food with a spongy dashi aroma. When you put it in your mouth with grated radish, the flavor is accentuated and returns to be delicious."
Neko's drool could no longer be held and hung from the edge of her mouth. Kuro looked into Neko's eyes and said.
"You want to eat?"
"I want to eat!"
"Well. Then go buy it. Write down any other necessary items in a note. Well, your most important role is definitely bringing Isana Yashiro back to this room. If you run away, you won't be able to eat the delicious food I just mentioned. Do you understand?"
"Okay! Wagahai will eat delicious fish and dashimaki with Shiro!"
It seems like he intends to catch Neko with her appetite and make sure the boy doesn't run away.
In the chase during the night, Kuro seemed to have grasped Neko's characteristics to some extent. The endurance game that lasted over a dozen hours, gave birth to a kind of strange bond between the three of them. There is no trust in her, but he can somehow understand the points that he can trust.
He won't run away anymore... He's so hungry that he doesn't know where to run since he found his home, so he only wants to talk quietly once.
The boy laughed bitterly and watched the exchange between Kuro and Neko.
Steam comes out of the rice cooker and there is a slightly sweet aroma that can cook boy's favorite rice.
But that is not all today. The fragrant smell of burning fish mixed there, playing an indescribable harmony.
Wearing a pink apron, Kuro rhythmically cuts the onions. The boy gazed admiringly at the onions, which quickly and accurately became increasingly thin.
Tofu miso soup is made on the stovetop next to the fish, which has a small, crackling, explosive skin and is exquisitely browned.
After chopping the onions, Kuro takes it upon himself to bake rolled eggs with one fluent hand.
After chopping the onions, Kuro takes it upon himself to bake rolled eggs with one fluent hand.
The egg, which was stirred well in a bowl and mixed with the broth, soy sauce, mirin, etc., was rubbed with a strainer, and the liquid egg was poured into a heated, oiled pan. The egg makes noise and hardens in good condition. Kuro started to roll it into a half mature state with beautiful movements.
"Oh~"
The boy and Neko involuntarily give a voice of admiration. The belly of the two screamed again.
When the eggs in the skillet are tightly rolled, the remaining egg liquid is also poured out and rolled further. In the blink of an eye, a beautiful rolled egg was completed and Kuro put out the fire.
At the same time, the sound of cooking rice resounds, and the fish appears to be baked and the grill rises.
It was a wonderful skill to finish everything at the same time.
The boy and Neko make their eyes shine on the table. It's simple, but that's why it stimulates an empty stomach.
He didn't have all the china in the boy's living room, so he bought it when he was shopping for ingredients.
While shopping, he offered to buy a bowl for Neko and was delighted with her large eyes glowing brightly. Along with Neko, who carefully selects her favorite tea bowl, the boy also chose tableware for Kuro. He doesn't eat as often in the boy's room, but he can't bear to let him eat white rice from a flat plate or drink miso soup from a cup.
Kuro opens the rice cooker. The white steam that smelled of freshly cooked rice rose, and Neko happily offered her a new bowl of tea of ​​her choice. He's staring into her glowing eyes as another rice is spilled.
A boy dressed in a killer robe, a guy trying to cut it, and a mysterious girl who suddenly appeared and was believed to be a normal kitten until yesterday, like a united family, clasped their hands around the warm rice.
"Itadakimasu!"
When he sipped the miso soup, the moderate salty taste and aroma of the soup spread through his mouth. The ingredients are simple, tofu and fried, but the boy thought it was the first time he had had such a delicious miso soup.
"It's delicious! It's really delicious!"
The boy lifts the cheeks with red tide. Kuro didn't look careless, but he snorted with a casual expression.
Neko also hurries, squeezes the muff and rice, and enjoys the fish. However, she didn't seem to be very good at using chopsticks and she spilled grains of rice in a conspicuous way.
When he saw how Neko was eating, he looked up and pulled the voice recorder from his chest.
"Rice is important, chew it well."
A man's deep voice rang out from the voice recorder. It was a good voice that was smart but also had a mysterious feel to it, but the boy twisted his head at a strange word like haiku, slogan, etc.
"That's…"
Kuro's eyes said, "Do you want to listen?" He turned to the boy as his eyes twinkled. Seeing his glowing eyes, he said that he was talking about a mysterious tape recorder, the boy was sensitive to the long annoying air it created, and the sign that a story was likely to unfold that the boy didn't care, and he quickly turned his important attention to the rice.
As he cut the fluffy rolled egg into bite-size pieces with his chopsticks, cut out the story of the person that is important to the guy.
"By the way, I want to ask you now."
When the boy changed, Kuro also turned to the boy, erasing the childish expression he wanted to show off when he played the tape recorder.
"In the first place, who are those men who chased me?"
They were people who manipulated supernatural powers, such as attacking with a metal bat that spewed flames and shooting fireballs with cigarettes. Both Kuro and Neko have a mysterious power, so the boy feels lost if he is the only common person.
"A member of their clan was killed. They are seeking revenge."
"Clan member? Are they a runaway tribe or a mafia or something?"
"Clan is a group that follows the 'King', and Clansman is a member of it. The 'Red King' Suoh Mikoto is the 'King' of the third clan, and the most temperamental man among the 'Kings'."
Clan, clan member, "King", "Red King".
The boy freezes slightly, writing down the words that appear in his head.
"In short, the head of the supernatural powers? Is there some other group like that? Do you mistake me for the criminal who killed that member?"
"I am not mistaken; you are the criminal himself. When I finish eating this, I will crush you properly."
The boy was told with a very serious look and a tone that declared that he would take care of the domestic matters he had to do.
"Yes..." He withdrew.
Although he is eating rice with him, he seems willing to carry out the execution after the meal. There are simple parts that are easy to use in Kuro and stubborn parts that are unlikely to bend smoothly, and it seems easy to understand and difficult to read.
"Fill it up!"
Neko, who was happily eating, happily handed the empty tea bowl to Kuro. Kuro receives his bowl and tries to serve rice naturally as if he is doing it every day.
"Oh, yeah, me too!"
They have an especially delicious side dish today, and the boy's favorite white rice is on the rise. Kuro silently stared for a few seconds at the boy who took advantage of Neko and pushed the tea bowl away.
"Well, this is probably the last white rice of my life."
With a light sigh, Kuro also received the boy's tea bowl.
He doesn't want this to be the last meal, but the white rice he eats with the garnish that Kuro made is really delicious, so the boy chews the stuffed rice he got and puts a juicy fish on it.
"I know why they are after me, but why are you trying to kill me in the first place? You are not a partner of those people, right?"
It seemed like a lonely little shadow had fallen over his eyes.
"Because I am a vassal of the Seventh King, the former 'Colorless King'."
"Colorless?"
"It means it has no color. My deceased master ordered me to carefully identify the next 'King' and if he is bad, I will not hesitate to eliminate him. He had the power to predict the future."
He must have longed for the dead master. When talking about that person called Miwa Ichigen, Kuro has a scathing tone.
"The power of prophecy... "Colorless King"... What is that "King" you mentioned earlier?"
"He has great power and embodies the reason of this world. The power of the 'King' is moving this country. It is something that ordinary human beings do not know."
It's a tremendous story and the boy makes his eyes go round
"I was wondering if the Prime Minister was the greatest in this country..."
The current prime minister, Samukawa Kanichi, is not very popular but he is not very obnoxious and he is a person who still maintains a medium approval rating. There is no atmosphere like that of a king, but in this country where there should be no royal system, Prime Minister Kanichi should have the decision-making power to move the country first.
"Now, the politics and economy of this country cannot be established without the power of one man. Japan, which became a defeated country and was eaten by the surrounding countries, could now become the greatest economic and technological power of the world because of the appearance of that man in this country."
"Who is that man?"
"He is called the 'Golden King'. His power is secretly everywhere, for example..."
Kuro poured the soy sauce into the chabudai and took the PDA out of his pocket.
"Both were created by a company controlled by the 'Golden King'."
Soy sauce, PDA, gender and manufacturer are different, but both are famous brands that are spread all over the world.
“The head of those people with fire powers, you said he is the 'Red King', right? Is there red and gold?"
"There are seven kings."
"Seven people?"
Kuro took out various condiments from the briefcase containing a set of kitchen utensils and placed them on the table.
The seven seasonings with different colors on the tops can indicate seven "kings" respectively. Kuro puts his index finger on the seasoning on the red cap that contains paprika powder.
"The character of the clan is completely different depending on the 'king' who rules. For example, if you describe the Red Clan in one word, it is violence."
The boy instinctively frowned, "Uh…". He is being attacked by people who are like symbols of violence. The boy on the skateboard who attacked the boy with a metal bat without asking questions was certainly violent language.
"That is a very close-knit clan, which is united with an elegance darker than blood. Killing that member was a very stupid thing on the part of the new 'King'."
"That's why! It's definitely about someone else! I'm not a 'King' and I didn't kill anyone in the first place!"
The boy is quick to insist on the premise of something he does not remember. Kuro sipped tea silently with a nasty face.
Neko, who should be on the boy's side, seems not to be interested in the story of the two, and when she finished eating the rice, she got on the bed and started playing with the boy's umbrella.
"The 'King' is the one that moves the economy and is the boss of the mafia, right? A high school student living a mediocre life like me is not a 'King'!"
“I have said that the nature of the 'King' varies. There are several ways to do it. The fourth royal authority, the "Blue King", is the head of an institutional police organization for those who have powers, while the first royal authority has immutable power, but is shrouded in mystery. He is patrolling the sky over Tokyo in an airship without fulfilling the role of 'King'."
"Airship... Oh, I certainly could see it. That's a 'King' too, isn't it..."
There is something strangely intriguing, and the boy hugs himself around his belly on the shirt.
“Furthermore, although the existence of the fifth 'King', the 'Green King' has been confirmed, but he has not appeared on the table and appears to be planning something under the surface. It's no wonder if you're a newborn 'King', a high school student, or if you're hiding your status and power as a 'King' and killing for an evil purpose."
"Oh... what does that mean..."
“There is a mysterious relic called "Dresden Slate" that selects the "King" and grants him great power. It is said to be a huge block of stone with a mysterious power that was discovered and studied in Dresden, Germany, during World War II. After the war, the Slate was brought to Japan and is now kept in the Mihashira Tower, which is the residence of the "Golden King". I've never really seen it. The criteria for the Slate to choose the 'King' are unknown, but history shows that not only are good people chosen, and that position and age have nothing to do with it."
"Hmm...", the boy gave a warm reply.
"But I don't have any supernatural powers..."
"Is that what you are hiding? The Seventh King, the "Colorless King", is a special "King" who has different characteristics for each generation. What kind of power and what role does he play appears on the Slate. It is said to be a prankster who knows no limits, the king of clowns. So I don't know what kind of power you have, even if you're hiding it."
"No, I'm not hiding it..."
"Just what is common to successive 'Colorless Kings'."
Without hearing the boy's objections, Kuro continues.
"The 'Colorless King', good or bad, has the power to interfere with the 'King' and change the balance of power between the 'Kings'. The predecessor, Ichigen Miwa, was a kind person. He was doing his best as mediator so that there would not be a conflict between the 'Kings'. The new 'Colorless King', as 'King' has shed human blood, and I cannot forgive him for causing and causing chaos!"
In front of Kuro, who speaks enthusiastically, the boy again heaves a heavy sigh.
Perhaps Neko was tired of playing alone, she returned to the kotatsu and picked up a piece of fish that was slightly stuck to the plate with her finger and put it in her mouth.
Each plate was carefully emptied. When Kuro put his hands on the plate he had finished eating, the boy did the same.
"Thanks for the food."
When Kuro and the boy talked to each other, Neko compared them to each other, clasped his hands as if to look at them and said, "Sorry."
Kuro drinks the hot tea and stands up naturally.
"It's time to kill you."
So, Kuro said that with the same ease as if he said that he would go to a convenience store.
Neko jumps up and poses intimidatingly while yelling "Shah!" The boy was impatient and held out his hand.
"Wait, wait! Then it's funny! Let's calm down! The reason you want to kill me is because I'm the evil 'Colorless King', right? What's the evidence?"
"That video."
"It's so easy to fake! Don't you think that's funny? Why would I call myself the 'Colorless King'?"
"Evil, you reveal yourself."
"If it were so… I made a mess with those dangerous people, I'd already be running away to a safer place! Right?"
Kuro looked away with a thoughtful gaze, but it seems his determination to kill him hasn't changed yet. The boy says desperately.
"I said it many times, I'm just a mediocre high school student!"
"So who is she? Is she not your clan member?"
Kuro pointed at Neko. Neko, who was still intimidating, turned to her own topic and showed her big eyes as if she had struck the void.
"Eh? No... She is..."
The boy looks at Neko from head to toe. The beautiful long-haired girl, who wears only the boy's uniform coat and exposes her bare feet in the harsh place, does the movements that animals actually perform, as she claims to be a cat.
Apparently, it is the identity of the kitten who was friends with the boy, but that is not what he wants to hear and the boy had no words to explain what she was.
The boy asks Neko directly.
"Who are you? Or what are you?"
"Wagahai is a cat!"
Neko said it like she did at the beginning, and she was very excited.
Kuro puts his hand on his jaw as he ponders.
“A Strain… Is she here by chance? Cannot be."
"Strain?"
"A person who has her own special power without being granted by a 'King'. Some people have it."
The boy asked Neko, "Is that so?", But Neko tilted her head with a smile.
"I don't understand anything, but I'm Shiro's cat, and Shiro is mine!"
Neko declares that in a good mood and starts dancing around happily.
Kuro also thought that it was difficult to think that this innocent girl understood the story of the evil "King" or was his vassal.
The boy turned to Kuro and faced him with the greatest sincerity he had.
"Hey, Kuro Yatogami. This is probably some kind of unfair accusation. I'm going to clear up that suspicion in front of you! And I'll ask those scary people to clear up the misunderstanding. No!"
Holding his fist in front of his chest, the boy insisted.
"Your deceased master said to identify the other person and kill him if he was evil, right? Then identify me correctly, if I am good or bad!"
Kuro straightened his line of sight towards the boy and paused to think a bit. Finally, he took out of his pocket that voice recorder that played during meals and handed it to the boy.
"Press a button."
"Hey?"
"Do it."
The atmosphere cannot be maintained any longer, the boy gets confused and presses a button, "Well then..."
"Do not judge the cold, without first knowing the heat of the burning sun."
A good voice flowed with astringency, depth and sensuality.
"What is that?"
The boy was very confused, but Kuro was convinced of something.
"Don't make a quick decision. You have apparently earned a chance to live, Isana Yashiro."
Even with a smile, he was confused. He's not sure what that means, but for the first time, he's happy that Kuro's attitude has softened and the boy's expression relaxes.
"Shiro is fine. Yes, can I call you Kuro?"
"Isana Yashiro."
Kuro, who called him by his full name to cut off his offer, stretched his back and looked at the boy with a stern look.
"I will identify you as you say, and if I find out that you are evil, I will kill you immediately. Okay?"
He thinks he was stubborn, loud, but sincere. In response to Kuro's statement, the boy smiled and asked for a handshake and extended his right hand.
"Thank you, Kuro. That is enough for now."
"If you are grateful, thank Ichigen-sama for advising me."
Kuro doesn't hold his hand and walks away.
The fact that he gave up means that the voice of that recorder is the voice of "Ichigen Miwa". The boy wondered why he was really worried about the tape recorder containing Miwa's mysterious words.
"What is that voice recorder?"
At that moment, the atmosphere Kuro was wearing changed. The atmosphere becomes brighter as if a flower is blooming, and a loose smile is shown as if such a face is made, and the cheeks become red.
He seemed to be excited and began to speak rapidly while breathing.
"This is…! This is a record of the words of the late master, Ichigen-sama. The words of Ichigen-sama, who was also an avant-garde poet, were so connotative and beautiful! I was recording it. It was not enough. burn it on my soul, and I still get lost."
Out of breath, Kuro presses the switch on the recorder.
"Occasionally walk the path you have chosen, the path of your dreams."
"Miwa's words" flow from the tape recorder, and during the narration period, he listens with an elated face that appears to have been beaten. Stained like an apple, Kuro picked up the recorder and looked at the boy with a proud face.
"That's what I'm saying!"
"How awful!"
An honest impression came out of the boy's mouth.
++++++++++
Wagahai is a cat. There is no name yet.
She feels like she used to have one, but she forgets. So a cat is just a cat.
Neko is now curled up on the boy's bed in the shape of a kitten.
She chased him from last night until morning, and when she had breakfast, she made her sleepy, so the boy said, "We will sleep for the moment."
The boy is sleeping under the blanket where the cat is curled up, and on a small tatami space, Kuro is leaning against the wall, sleeping with a sword in a sitting position.
Neko doesn't like Kuro. He came to destroy the happy days with the boy.
There is no way she will like people who say terrible things like kill the boy.
However, the rice he made was so delicious that she forgives him a bit. Especially the fish with crispy skin and plump body was wonderful.
Inside the room with the curtains closed, the morning sun shines through the gap, but it is comfortable and dim.
Neko tried to fall asleep as she was, and after thinking for a moment, she moved towards him. Bring her face to the boy's face and wave by bringing the tips of their noses together.
"Good luck, Shiro."
Neko snuggled into a position where the boy's body temperature could be felt. It is not cold here.  She is not alone. She liked this place where she could hear the boy breathing next to her.
Neko is from Shiro, and Shiro is from Neko.
Feeling the temperature of her favorite company, Neko closes her eyes and enters the world of dreams.
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thiswasinevitableid · 5 years ago
Note
21, Indruck (for the Mermay minifics)
Note: Duck’s design is based on a Grouper (aka one of the strongest fish) and Indrid’s is based on an Oarfish.
Every mer in Kepler Cove knows not to go near the strange lights. Lights that glow bright orange or deep purple, flicker gold to green or fade from blue to silver. But Duck is desperate. 
And so when night falls, and all sensible creatures are safe in their beds or dens or buried beneath the sand, he swims across the flat, empty patch of sand to the cave on the outskirts of town, green lights guiding his way tonight.
The house is cluttered with bottles and shells, with drawings and discarded pufferfish quills, and all around him the lights swirl. They’re solid when they bump him, but when he holds one in his hand, it isn’t an object his eyes understand.
It’s when he looks up to find two red lights, glowing more dimly than the others, staring him down that he remembers the warnings.
“Uh-”
“I am surprised to see you, Duck Newton. In most future, you decided on the prudent option and stayed far away.” The mer comes into view, his silvery tail, streaked with a red fin, matching his silver hair. The tail is much longer than Duck’s own, even though it ends in a standard fin. And he’s grinning. It’s not a Great White grin, but it doesn’t put Duck at ease. 
“You gonna make me regret it? And how do you know-”
‘Your name” The mer says along with him, “I can see the future. Or futures, I suppose, churning and changing, flitting in and out of view like sardines in a school.” He circles Duck slowly, his form long and lean next to Duck’s, which is built for power and unassuming in it’s mottled green, black and white. He remembers the stories of sea serpents, of mers with strange tails and angular faces who would lure the unsuspecting out into the deep trenches, never to be seen again.
“Then you know-”
“-why you are here? I can see it coming, but perhaps you would like to tell me yourself.”
“Do you know what’s been happenin to folks around here?”
“The plague? Yes. I...I tried to warn your predecessor that such a thing might come on the tides. He chose not to listen. And now you are here, a new chosen guardian, forced to bear the results of his disregarding me.” 
“There ain’t any record of you tellin him that.” Duck says cautiously. 
“Is there mention of someone called Indrid Cold?”
“Yeah, now that you mention it.”
The mer points to himself without another word, then swims to his wall and removes several drawings, the images evaporating as he does. 
“Oh. Uh, didn’t know that’s your name.”
“Of course not. Everyone calls me the witch. Or worse. And only the desperate would seek out a monster mer, and I watched the futures as you narrowed your options little by little until deciding on me. This spell” he catches a smaller light in his hand, “will produce a special plant that when ingested will cure those who are ill. But it will cost you.”
“Ah. You’re that kind of mer.” Duck crosses his arms with a roll of the eyes.
Indrid whirls, knocking lights aside as he hisses, “No, I am not. This is how magic of this caliber works. It cannot be given for nothing, no matter how much I wish I could do just that. I do not desire anything from my fellow creatures other than peace and respect, and yet I must demand a great deal to deliver what they ask of me. The choice is yours, Duck Newton; seek my help or do not, but do not act as though I am some predator laying in wait in the dark.” He flicks his tail dismissively, goes back to what must be his desk, fin tense as he waits for Duck to respond. 
Duck looks at the spell, “What’s the price?”
“Ask it.” Indrid sighs, jerking his tail towards the spell.
Duck gazes at the light, repeats the question, and gets a flash of two luminous red pearls. 
“Ah fuck, those only turn up in the oysters near the damn Nettle Eels.”
“Unfortunate.” Indrid continues drawing, back resolutely towards him, “if you decide to attempt it, bring the asked for items here. Only then can you release the spell.” His fin is limp now, his shoulders sag. 
“I’ll do my best. And, uh, Mr. Cold?”
“Indrid is fine.”
“I believe you. About it not bein’ your doin’.”
With that, he swims back to town. But as he glances over his shoulder, still not certain if Indrid is dangerous, the other man is watching him. When he notices Duck has turned to look at him, he lifts his hand in shy wave farewell.
--------------------------------------------
“You still got that spell?”
Indrid turns, knowing what he’ll see yet smiling all the same when he does; Duck Newton, arms clearly stinging, with two red pearls in his hands. He retrieves the spell, takes the stones and places them with other items the magic has demanded. As soon as Duck touches the spell, the light bursts into a thousand little specks.
“It is done. The grove of plants should be ready by the time you return to your home.”
“Thank fuck.” Duck slumps against the wall. Then he holds out his hand.
Indrid cocks his head, perplexed. Duck makes an awkward sound in the back of his throat, hand returning to his side. 
“I just, uh, wanted to say thanks. For helpin’ me. Lotta people are gonna be alive because of you.”
“More would be if I had convinced your predecessor of the severity of the plague.”
“Hey now” Duck swims closer, and Indrid finds he has no instinct to back away, “he was a dipshit. Don’t gotta take the blame for that.” He holds out his hand again, and this time Indrid takes it, shaking it. Duck smiles when he does.
As the other man swims towards the exit, he pauses, “There was another spell, wasn’t there? One that woulda cured it without the plant step.”
Indrid swallows, “Yes.”
“What was the price?”
‘I believe it requires a stone from the valley surrounded by the mer-eating eels. The one, ah, almost no one returns from.”
“That’s what I thought. Thanks, Indrid. Thanks for lookin out for me.”
Indrid wishes he could curl his tail all the way around him so he no longer has to deal with the sensation of Duck looking at him with unfamiliar kindness. 
“You are welcome. If you ever need my assistance, you know where to find me.”
---------------------------------
“Damn thing bit straight through my sword. Minerva’s too.”
Indrid examines the snapped metal, then begins swimming between the lights, “Do you think an increased offensive capability or a defensive one will be better for ridding the reef of the Giant Scorpionfish?”
“Ain’t sure, futures don’t happen to have any clues?”
Indrid pauses, tail waving lazily, then shakes his head, “it seems the two show about the same outcomes of success.”
“In that case, let’s go with somethin’ that’ll keep us safe while fightin it. Don’t really feel like havin some super-powerful weapon floatin around after this is done.”
Indrid picks a golden light from the air, hands it to Duck. This time, he doesn’t immediately move away, instead waits for him to learn the price. 
Duck shuts his eyes, gets an image of deep blue eggs. Then he shivers, Indrid’s tail having brushed along his by accident.
“Eagle Ray eggs. Do you think it wants all of ‘em? Seems kinda rude to take the whole nest.”
“Hmmmm, looking at the futures, it seems two or three will suffice.”
“Gotcha. It may think that’s some tricky quest, but I happen to know where a lot of different nests are around here. I’ll be back in an hour.”
----------------------------------------------------
“Got your message, you said a tidal storm was comin?”
“Yes, we have about five hours at maximum before it hits here. I already found the protection spell and learned the price, to expedite things. It wants a black pearl, a rare red sea flower, and gold from a sunken ship.” Indrid swims back and forth between drawings, erasing and recreating as the futures change.
“Fuck, okay. Uh, I’m allowed to have help, right?’
“Of course.”
“I’ll send Juno after the flower, Dani and Aubrey can help her. And Ned’s real good at findin gemstones in a hurry. I know there’s a wreck about a two mile swim thataway, but it’s been picked over.”
“I may be able to help; we can use my powers to locate the stray, remaining gold. Come, there is no time to lose.” He darts out of the cave and Duck follows him, watches the light glint off his scales, the way his body twists and speeds through the water.
Even if they fail, at least his last mission will have had a hell of a view.
-------------------------------------
“‘Drid, I was wonderin if you...uh, didn’t know you had pets.”
“I do not. Or, ah, I did not, The Eagle Ray eggs hatched. The spells almost never want animals, so it never occurred to me that the eggs would remain viable--AH! Careful with that, I know you are getting used to your wings but those are fragile. Anyway, what do you need?”
“Not a spell, but could you use your future vision to see if the issues with the Kelp fields are gonna lead to somethin bigger?’
“Why Duck, are you really giving me the honor of being an advisor to a Chosen?”
“ Damn right I am. Also that ray is chewin on your desk chair.”
“AH!”
-----------------------------------------
“Hey ‘Drid, can I uh, um, I need some help.”
“Of course, let me just finish feeding Spot and Speckle their dinner. Is it a spell or a future?”
“Uh, it’s, uh, fuck, a, uh, spell? Yeah, a uh, fuck, spell. I need some help findin my, uh, fuck, keys? No, fuck, I mean-”
“You don’t have a reason for coming, do you.”
“Nope.”
“There is no need to lie about one. Wanting to visit is reason enough. You are welcome here any time, my friend.”
------------------------
“Nice, ain’t it?”  Duck stretches out on the warm rock, sun soaking into his chest. 
“Mmmmmhmmm.” Indrid hums beside him, long tail draped off the edge and into the water. 
“You said you don’t come up here much.”
“I had some run-ins with sailors I tried to warn off oncoming disasters. I became a bit of a local legend, an omen of doom, and so decided it was best to lay low.” The words are detached, but Duck rolls over to find Indrid staring wistfully up at the sky, “I do enjoy it up here. I like watching the stars, seeing all the snippets of a new and different world. Some days I think I love the surface as much as I love home. Perhaps that is silly.” 
Duck rolls onto his side, “Ain’t nothin silly about lovin’ somethin’ incredible. I mean look” he points the forest, the tangle of green looking down on the shore from the hills, “look at that. How does it grow? What lives there? There’s so much to know about nature, up top and below.”
Indrid is on his side now as well, “Thank you. It is nice to know I am not alone. In, ah, in my thoughts, that is.” 
Duck reaches for his hand, and when Indrid scoots close enough to give it, Duck presses their tails together. Indrid sighs at the contact, and soon his tail is draped over Duck’s, his fingers tracing abstract patterns up and down Duck’s arm. 
“‘Drid? Would, uh, would you ever wanna maybe...move closer to town? I know Barclay’s been visitin more, Dani too. Seems like you’re startin to know more folks in town. There’s, uh, a house near mine that just opened up. We could be neighbors?” The note when his voice turns up at the end is steeped in vulnerable hope that he prays Indrid can’t hear. 
Red eyes regard him, “No, Duck. I do not think I could be. I am a solitary creature. The spells I help usher into the world and keep safe can be dangerous in their demands, attract dangerous beings in search of them. I ought to remain so, more for the sake of whoever wishes to be close to me than for my own.”
“But-”
“I need to return home. Farewell, Duck.” He slithers off the rock, and by the time Duck is in the water there’s only a flash of silver, disappearing into the darkness on the edge of town.
------------------------------------------------
“Barclay, you seen ‘Drid lately?”
“Uh huh, saw him yesterday when I ran some food over. I wanted him to try my new red snapper wraps.”
“Oh. So he’s, uh, fine then?”
“Seems to be. Why?”
“The last few times I gone to see him, he ain’t been home. I’m worried I mighta done somethin’ to offend him.”
“Nah, I bet it’s just a run of bad timing. Indrid likes you more than anyone else on this reef.”
“...If I send someone else to get spells or info, he’s always there.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
---------------------------------------
“Mr. Cold, I am here on the utmost urgent business.”
“Hello to you too, Ned, and Indrid is fine. What is…” He sees the oncoming answer and blanches from top to tail with fear.
“Duck is ill?”
“He hasn’t been able to get out of bed for a week. Barely consumes food or drink. The lovely Dani took a look at him, but it does not seem to be an ailment know to her.”
“Show me the way to him. Please.” Indrid follows Ned, and the lights follow Indrid, his foresight not showing him enough to know which spell may be needed. They wind through town, whispers darting from house to house as they do.
The night is only made worse by what he discovers when he reaches Duck’s side.
“He is heartsick. That is why Dani was unable to find means of healing him. Only one exists.”
“One of your, like, spells?” Aubrey asks hopefully, red tail twitching with worry.
“No. It can only be cured with a kiss from one who loves him. Romantically, I should add, as the illness is brought on by a romantic love that one tries to repress or destroy. Do any of you know someone who loves Duck that way?”
All heads in the room shake. He sighs, “May I have a moment of privacy to think?”
When they’re alone, he strokes Duck’s brow, tail curling protectively around him without him truly meaning too.
Then he leans down and plants a single, tender kiss to Duck’s lips. 
Mismatched eyes flutter open.
“‘Oh thank goodness.”
“Fuck, whole body feels like I just got over the fin-pox.” Duck rolls his shoulders. Indrid realizes he hasn’t moved away from him, can’t bring himself to do so.
“‘Drid? Did, uh, did you just kiss me?”
“I, I did. I am sorry, it was the only-”
He’s yanked into the bed, one hand tangled in his hair as the other traps their hips together. Ducks tail flaps excitedly and Indrid’s curls around it as many times as he can. 
“I tried so fuckin hard, darlin, I thought you were angry with me, or that you were pushin me away for my own good, and as much as I missed you I didn’t wanna push you so I tried not to think about you, but, but I, I just started feelin’ sicker and sicker whenever I pushed thoughts of you away.
“Oh my, love, I am sorry. I only meant to keep you safe. I never meant to hurt you so.”
“It ain’t your doin’; I’m the dipshit who couldn’t tell you how I felt. I know you didn’t want to be with anyone-”
“-you are right, I thought it would be dangerous. But, well, in the last few weeks, I have realized that while my powers make for an oft-dangerous time, so does your position in the reef. And I, I missed you terribly. I want to be by your side, Duck Newton, if you will still have me.”
Duck runs a firm hand down his tail, grinning brighter than the lights still spinning around them, “You know, darlin, I think I’ll do just that.”
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paladin-pile · 6 years ago
Text
What “Pilot Personality” do each of the Voltron Characters fall into?
This has been sitting in my docs for exactly a year under the title “stupid freaking meta” cause it was a pain to write. But it’s been on my mind so I thought it was time for another post, based on my experience as a pilot and member of the aviation community. 
As I was making this I realized that this might be some good fanfiction material for y’all, so enjoy. (Fyi: every pilot-related example or description I use in this post is a real life true story/situation that I have heard or experienced! Nothing made up.)
I began learning to fly at age 16, before I learned to drive. I got my pilot’s license at age 19 which was almost 6 years ago, and it’s safe to say I’m just a little obsessed. I spent years around pilots from all walks of life, and very quickly caught on to the fact that there are different types of pilots, but still a common thread that goes through everyone.
When I sat down one day in July 2016 and watched Voltron for the first time, I was immediately smitten. It was everything I loved: space, flying, technology, awesome characters, all rolled into one. Interestingly enough, I can pinpoint the EXACT SECOND I first fell in love with this show...
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I literally paused the episode here and texted my friend about how I had found the new Big Thing in my life. This was it, this show knew us. As I continued watching I was thrilled to see each character be such a fabulous example of the different types of pilots and have a lot of deep threads I resonated with. I’m going to go through each main character and describe what “type” of pilot they fit and why. So buckle up folks, this post is Hella Long. First up,
Lance
It may be hard to believe, but I speak from experience when I say the vast majority of pilots are exactly like Lance. Even if your normal personality is not like his, he amplifies the traits that are inside every one of us. It doesn’t matter what your personality is like on the ground, your pilot personality can be a lot different, 
Lance isn’t scared. 
These are the kind of people who live for dives and stalls, pitching down the nose and laughing maniacally as the engine builds up to a whine and the ground fills the windshield. In order to get to this point, you have to be really comfortable with the aircraft, know what it can do and what it can’t. This kind of boils down to the first point about pilots in general that are illustrated nicely in the show:
Pilot thing #1: You have a healthy fear of what you should be afraid of, but you know you don’t have to be afraid of much.
Personally I have learned to fear only three things as a pilot: birds, fire, and myself (the ‘myself’ point we’ll come back to later when we talk about Shiro). Most everything else is a non-issue and might even be considered a thrill. This doesn’t mean we’re not cautious and responsible, but we’re not scared.
True, imidately following this scene, Lance crashed the simulator (which I also theorize he did on purpose), so it could be argued he’s not that great of a pilot, but the point still stands. He’s in training, we all did stupid stuff in training, I did stupid stuff in training. It’s the attitude we’re talking about here.
* Side dish for thought: I see a lot of the fandom throwing around the term ‘cargo pilot’ like it’s some sort of insult, or ‘oh that’s so boring and has no prestige whatsoever’ but let me set one thing straight: being a cargo pilot is the BOMB, and I would take that over being a fighter any day.
Flying a 180 ton aircraft filled with supplies or troops through canyons and around mountains, low enough to trim bushes and kick up sand, and the satisfaction of yelling “5 tons of toilet paper comin’ in hot!” into the comms is an end in itself. The poor grunts in the back are strapped in like sardines and trying not to hurl at your erratic maneuvers, but they don’t complain cause they know you have to stay low and move crazy to avoid enemy fire. You and your Thicc Baby are proud as anything when every load is delivered safely, whether its potatoes or tanks. (From what we see in Voltron it seems Lance didn’t want to be a cargo pilot, but I have to admit it would have fit him pretty well.)
#2 Talking to your aircraft
There is not a pilot on the face of the Earth that does not talk to their aircraft like it is a sentinent being, and treat it accordingly. No matter how big and tough we are, you can always catch us patting our ship with a dopey smile and gooey eyes, cooing “Hey Beautiful” or any other myriad of pet names.  It’s a thing, everybody does it. I don’t pretend to know the psychology.
Keith
Ok story time.
A few years back, I took a nurse’s assistant course and worked in a elderly care home.  It was an awful place. Elderly folks who had no family lived in small, dirty rooms, no longer able to care for themselves or sometimes even communicate. I knew everyone on the floor, and tried to show them love as much as possible in their often abusive situation.
One such person was a tall gangly man in his nineties. He was confined to a wheelchair, never made eye contact, and never spoke. Every mealtime we would take him into the cafeteria and sit with him, spoon-feeding because his hands shook too much to hold a utensil. We were encouraged to talk to him as much as we could, even though he never responded and none of us were sure just how mentally present he was.
One time I went into his room, I noticed something. On the rickety table at the end of his bed was a small, dusty photo frame. It held a picture of dashing young man in an Air Force uniform with sharp eyes and half-smirk, a curly-haired little girl in his arms. One of the nurses told me that was him and his daughter. Since we now had a little something in common, I decided to bring it up at the next mealtime.
“Sooo, I saw your picture on the end table,” I hedged, holding out a spoonful of potatoes. I didn’t expect a response, and sure enough, he remained staring at the table blankly.
“You were in the Air Force, huh? That’s pretty neat. I’m a pilot too, but I’ve haven’t flown anything very exciting.” I held the spoon to his mouth and he took it, swallowing slowly.
“P-38’s or P-51’s are my favorite,” I rambled, scraping together the creamed peas. “There’s something about the sound of that Merlin engine that can’t be beat!” I hummed and shook my head with nostalgia. The fighter planes from WW2 had always been my favorite. With the next bite ready, I turned back to him, and almost dropped the spoon in shock.
His head was lifted, back straight, staring at me with such intensity I almost thought he would leap out of the seat. My mouth hung open, spoon frozen midair, and for a moment I sat there in disbelief. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes, bright and fiery, overflowing with words he couldn’t speak. Finally, I recovered enough to smile, wishing I could hear what he wanted to say.
“I love flying,” I whispered, “There’s nothing like it, is there?” His eyes stayed locked on mine, and it was a long time before he could be coaxed into taking another mouthful.
Here’s where I’m going with this. Pilots like Keith are from an era that no longer exists. His are the type we can only find in the silent annals of history, like WW1 and 2. Pilots who were called “knights of the air,” unorthodox and brave in every sense of the word. Cutting out engines and making impossible maneuvers that pushed themselves and their aircraft to the limits and beyond. Split-second, all or nothing stunts that shouldn't have worked but did, pilots that flew by pure instinct and blood running like fire through their veins. Pilots who couldn’t let go of the controls when they landed because they had been gripping them too hard, too long. Pilots who would wait till the very last second to bail out of a burning plane so they could direct it to crash into a target, pilots who coaxed their plane to finish a mission even though half of it was missing, oil was smearing over the canopy, and hydraulic fluid was dripping down their legs. Pilots that got into a new plane that had just been designed and no one knew what it could even do, and flew it anyway. Kamikaze pilots who put their plane into a dive toward a target, knowing it would be the last thing they ever did.
They fought a war, some of them won, and they all disappeared.
The nature of air war isn't like that anymore--with the advent of supersonic jets and drones, the era of the fighter pilot is all but gone, and the gritty sword fights in the sky have become extinct. Even those who are fighter pilots today are given strict guidelines, and risks are reduced to a minimum.
Pilots like Keith don’t exist anymore because they are not born, they are only made under certain circumstances.
The closest you will get to those kind of pilots today are probably bush pilots, they’re pretty much the only ones left that push everything to the limits, fly with no rules, and rely on instinct. But for now, that spirit of Keith, that “you fight like a Galra,” drive, that extra sense and lion-heartedness...are only found in museums, in monuments, and in gravestones.
Shiro
Shiro is a classic fit to what we call a “Jet Jockey.” Responsible, hero-type, yet still a massive dork; the guy you’d see in charge of the Thunderbird demonstration team. He’s a leader, calm, charming, and fierce. It’s in the blood, in the way they walk and smile. When you hear the term ‘you got it or you don’t,” these people definitely “got it.”
They’re perfect, polished in the exterior, but what you sometimes will not notice is their vulnerability. Most all of them have lost close friends, hold some kind of loneliness or sadness in their chest, something that only the love of the air can soothe. Be nice to these guys. People like to put them on a pedestal, but they need human companionship to not let lost in the sky.
I’d like to take a moment here to share my insights from aviation relating to Shiro, namely, Pilot Error, and the Kerberos mission. I see a lot of content in the fandom of Keith and the Holts being outraged that anyone could suggest that the Kerberos crash was caused by pilot error. The typical response is along the lines of, “Shiro was the best, the brightest, most skilled and responsible student, he would NEVER make a mistake like that.”
That’s bullshit and every pilot knows it.
From our very first day in flight school, this concept was drilled into us until we could recite it in our sleep. Mistakes happen to everyone, no matter how good you are or how much experience you have. You think, “Oh I would never do that” or that just because so-and-so is legendary they can do no wrong. It happens every day and the best pilots are not immune. The vast majority of crashes are caused by errors by pilots who are not dummies. It’s the go-to answer when no one is quite sure what happened because it’s the most likely reason. It sobers the rest of us, thinking “that could easily be me,” but we don’t doubt it or get outraged cause we know it can happen to the best of us.
People are prone to make mistakes for no reason, when we know better. It just…didn’t even cross your mind at the time. You thought you were doing the right thing. It’s happened to me personally and I very nearly got killed, but it really opened my eyes to the whole issue.
Semi-related to this is a theory I’ve been toying with: that Shiro getting chosen to pilot the Kerberos mission was a controversial and even scandalous decision. Here’s the cold hard facts: There is no way Shiro was the most experienced pilot at the Garrison. Even if he was a prodigy and had insane natural talent, someone that young just does not have the experience that an older pilot that had been flying for years would have under his belt. Shiro was probably so good that some of the higher-ups at the Garrison wanted to assign him to Kerberos, but the other portion were against it, saying it wasn’t smart to be sending someone so inexperienced, no matter how good he was. When the Kerberos crew disappeared, it could easily have become a huge, maybe even public scandal, where the people who opposed the decision were crying “I told you so!” and citing what a mistake it was to assign someone so young.
The youngest astronaut NASA ever sent to space was 32 years old, and she certainly wasn’t in charge of anything at the time. The youngest person ever in space was a 25-year old Russian cosmonaut named Titov who was essentially strapped into a capsule and launched into orbit to test what happened to the human body in zero gravity for 24 hours (not pleasant, they found out). He was also the second human to go to space, when we knew pretty much nothing about anything. I can’t imagine the guts this guy had, knowing he was going up as an experiment. The whole story is worth checking out. Honestly this sounds more like something the Garrison would do, and the whole situation adds to the suspicion that something is fishy in the place.
Experience rules, I cannot emphasize this enough. It doesn’t matter how “good” you are or how fast you learn, the guy with more experience will always be better than you, no matter how old they are. For Shiro to be the most experienced at such a young age, all the other older pilots and instructors would have to be dead or medically disqualified, or something.
Short end of it is, there is no way Shiro was the best pilot at the Garrison, or the best choice for the mission. Even if he was a prodigy and at the top of his class, which I’m sure he was, that’s not what the higher-ups use to make a decision. Of course, this whole theory might be moot. The creators most likely put Shiro on the Kerberos mission for plot reasons only, but realistically is a little different story.
Hunk
Hunk’s category of pilots hold a special place in my heart: the mechanics. They probably otherwise would not be pilots, but it’s convenient to be able to fly the stuff when they’re running checks. Always covered in grease, their second home is in the hangar, tending to the planes like a kind doctor to a child with the flu. They listen to the aircraft. It’s more of a technical relationship, not quite as mystical as the other pilots tend to portray it. For the Hunk-type, it’s dissected into moving parts.
These folks are NICE. My best friend in training was a mechanic named Bob, who was a ray of sunshine and the sweetest guy absolutely ever. He was also HUMONGOUS, and it was always a kick to seem him squeezing into a tiny Cessna 150 with a squinty-eyed smile and a cheerful “Let’s see how she does!” He would never fly more than a few trips around the pattern.
“Nothing major,” he would say. “I’m not gonna do any crazy stuff like these guys,” *points thumb over shoulder at the Lance-like pilots drinking coffee* “Just little trip around the pattern so I can check out what I did without having to wait for another pilot to take ‘em up.”
They talk up a storm, they ramble. Mechanics tend to make fun of pilots for knowing nothing about how the airplane works, and have gut intuition like no one else. You LISTEN to these guys when they have a hunch or you. will. die.
Pidge
Pidge’s type of pilots are fun to be around. Curious, in the learning stage, usually teenagers, enthusiastic and eager, wanting to be a pilot for the intellectually stimulating reasons (“I read all the fighter manuals”).
I’m reminded of one of the students who was training at the same time I was. 5’4, short cropped hair, large aviator sunglasses, devouring the training books with quick wit and banter with the instructors. She also would roll up to the hanger in her sporty convertible right after getting her drivers license, blaring “Sexy Back” loud enough to shake the propellers off the nearest aircraft.
They may not have the ingrained, primal love for hardcore flying that pilots like Lance, Keith and Shiro have, but to them it’s cool and they love it for their own reasons. It’s a stepping stone to something greater, more knowledge, laid out before them like the rolling landscape far, far below.
Allura
When we’re sorting Voltron characters into pilot categories, Allura drops with a perfect little clink into the box marked Female Helicopter Pilots.
If you’re looking for folks that are Tough, who can catch grenades in their teeth while brandishing two sub-machine guns and walking through fire, you’ve come to the right place. Arnold Schwarzenegger's got nothing on these women. Don’t cross them, they can most likely bench press their own helicopter. They instantly generate mad respect, you feel like bowing whenever they walk in a room.
Fixed-wing pilots and helicopter pilots are two very different breeds, and usually are very loyal to their respective aircrafts. Most airplane pilots wouldn’t be caught dead in a helicopter and vice versa. Of course there are exceptions, but the accepted culture is for the two groups to rib each other, kinda like cat people vs dog people.
These pilots have a beaming smile and deceptively sweet twinkle eyes. These are people who have whipped the butts of every obstacle given to mankind, stared death in the face and beat it with their bare fists. I might be exaggerating here, but this is the feeling one gets when coming across these women.
Coran
Oh Coran, you are one of the most iconic pilot types, and the one folks are most likely to encounter hanging around any small airport. The middle-aged-and-older folks that fly to to other cities for lunches, dubbed “$100 hamburgers.”  They are chipper, wear shorts and Hawaiian shirts, and like to reminisce about the good old days. I am not exaggerating. Most of them are hobby flyers or retirees with eccentric senses of humor and very large amounts of money, maybe more than one plane and an antique car. If you start talking to one, be prepared to spend a while. They are a bottomless well of tall stories of glory, belly laughter, and that snark and slightly odd sense of humor that can turn dark if the right subject is brought up.
All together, pilots are a colorful bunch. Most everyone fits into these basic categories, but there’s a common thread through it all. Love, almost to addiction. Once we get in and taste the crisp air aloft, feel the vibration of the aircraft beneath our fingers, hear that ethereal voice speak to us. There’s no going back. It calls and calls and calls, and the farthest star is too close to hang our dreams.
Hope this has been helpful or interesting to someone. Please feel free to come by and talk to me about anything!
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battlestar-royco · 7 years ago
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lorcan and elide could have had a lovely sort of father-daughter / guardian relationship like from The Last of Us. it would have added a new dynamic to sjm’s books since she never portrays any relationship that isn’t romantic in any detail or depth. instead we got...... its forehsnahdndjn bcos Lorcan!!!!!!! his first name sounds like elides last name agfshsghd
STOPPPPP THIS IS THE E0S I WOULD HAVE WANTED TO READ. Also I’m so surprised and glad that “foreshadoforwngpirnpi” is becoming my legacy.
The Badass-and-Child trope is one of my all-time favorites. I loved it in TL0U, I loved it with Arya and the Hound in St0rm of Swords, and I loved it in Logan. You are so right, SJ/M’s books (and most of YA tbh) are seriously missing out on guardian-child/teenager or even mentor/protege type relationships. And of course, when we get friendships, it’s M.alide Gals Being Pals and C.haorian Bros Being Dudes. The closest thing to a guardian/kid relationship in T0G would probably be A.robynn/Sardines. I was so interested in A.robynn because he was so perfectly creepy and vague. There was so much intrigue around him: what is Sardines to him, how did he become the King of Assassins, what was his endgame when he took her in/kidnapped her, how will he interfere with the King of A.darlan, what kind of allies did he have, why was he collecting all these young people and indoctrinating them into lives of crime and murder? TOO BAD THESE QUESTIONS WERE NEVER FUCKING ANSWERED IT’S FINE EVERYTHING’S FINE
Wait do people actually say that because L.orcan and L.ochan are similar, it’s foreshadinife??????? I? Want? To? Scream??? Wow, really cool foreshadowniffe SJ/M. I guess that also means that E.lide is secretly Cr0chan royalty because it rhymes with her last name? I guess she’s secretly the heir to Pr.ythian because she is also the heir to P.erranth and they have mostly the same letters?
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evolutionsvoid · 7 years ago
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Before becoming a pirate and scouring the surface waters for prey, Stomas lived a pretty straightforward life. He scuttled across the ocean bottom in search of food and resources, working with a community of other deep sea creatures to survive in such a hostile world. His duties of scavenging and collecting caused him to notice the strange things that fell from the world above. Bizarre containers, ravaged ships and bloodied corpses would descend to their world, and many did not think much of it. It was just extra resources for them scavenge and use. Some saw these items from above to be garbage and they cursed the surface world above for polluting their land with such filth. Stomas, however, thought quite differently. As he investigated these strange objects, he saw the value and profit they held. The sunken ships provided shelter or could be converted into new reefs. The containers and busted crates were filled with strange knick-knacks and trinkets, which many different sea creatures loved to collect or wear. Scavenged tools and weapons could be adapted and used to make things easy for those down below. The corpses and other edibles made for tasty dishes and easy meals. As he looked into these strange gifts, he began to see a great opportunity. The so-called "trash" from the surface waters was actually treasure, which gave him an idea. If these things were so helpful and valuable, why wait for them to wind up down here?    With a plan in mind, Stomas traveled to the surface waters to see if his idea could work. There he watched the great ships sail through the seas, transporting loads of mysterious goods with them. While such riches were enticing, something else caught his eye. As he observed, he saw other ships attack these fattened boats, stealing the goods for themselves and sending the victims down below. Such a spectacle riveted him, and at last everything snapped in place. He returned down below and talked to some others about his brilliant plan. He wooed them with tales of riches and excitement, an adventure that guaranteed profit and challenge. Soon, he gathered a crew of interested sea creatures and began to ready the ship. Finding a somewhat intact wreckage, they worked for days patching it up and making it look worthy of the pirate title. When all was complete, they strapped it to the back of a giant manta ray and climbed aboard. With Captain Stomas at the helm, the Sea Goblin rose from its watery grave and returned to the world of light and wind. Now it stalks the ocean surface, searching for merchant ships to plunder and sink. At the head of it all is Captain Stomas, leading his bizarre crew into the exciting lives of pirates. 
Attitude - Though he is indeed a pirate captain, he does share their ruthless, violent behavior. Instead, Stomas runs the ship as if he was the boss of a company. He likes to keep things running smooth and efficiently, so he is always keeping a close eye on things. During attacks and raids, he is more serious and focused, as he wants to make sure his crew comes out unscathed and victorious. After a successful plundering, though, he will loosen up, happy to celebrate with his crew. Even when running the ship, he is friendly to his crew members and enjoys sharing a joke or two, but he won't hesitate to snap orders or give reprimands if needed. Since the purpose of the Sea Goblin is to collect goods to sell back down below, Stomas makes sure to keep profit in mind. He is good at bartering or haggling, and he always measures the risk versus the rewards before attacking certain ships. As long as it isn't too risky or dangerous for his crew, he is open to take any route that will lead to profit. This can include attacking port towns, taking out pirate ships that are already robbing another ship, accepting payment from terrified merchants who don't want any trouble, or even escorting others across the ocean in return for a hefty sum. As long as there are goods to be had, he is happy to give anything a shot.   Relations - As a pirate captain, he does not have many good relations with those who travel the surface waters. Merchants and traders see him and his crew as abysmal monstrosities that should be avoided at all costs. Certain captains of war ships vow to hunt down Stomas and the Sea Goblin in hopes of ending their reign of terror. Thankfully, the Sea Goblin can submerge itself, making these threats negligible. While a scourge up above, he is a much more welcome face down below. The many ocean bottom communities he sells and trades to adore him and are always excited when his crew comes down with boatloads of goodies. Though he does enjoy profit, he is quite charitable to his fellow sea creatures and will sell stuff at rather low prices so that they can get everything they need. In some cases he may even give it away for free if the town or community is in a rough patch. In times when the Sea Goblin isn't spotted for months, it may be due to him and his crew lending a hand down below.       Though he does not interact with the landmasses that much, he has had run-ins with a rather bizarre group of individuals. The order known as the Knights of the Wrong Table have run into his pirating ways from time to time, and they have proved themselves to be quite the urchin in the side. Sometimes when Stomas may lead an attack on a port town, those blasted knights show up and foil his efforts. In some cases he has even encountered them at sea, when the order is "hired" to help protect a trade vessel. During these battles, Stomas curses the order and tries to knock them aside to claim his prize. Outside of these encounters, though, he sees them in a different light. Though they can be troublesome, Stomas respects them as worthy opponents and sees them as a terrestrial equivalent of his own crew. He does not show any real ill will towards them, as he respects their work and determination. This does not mean, however, that he will pull his punches when they cross swords though! Though he does keep trying to recruit their knight named Cobalus to his crew, as he is a fellow ocean denizen as well. Stomas honestly can't understand why such a sea creature would work on the land and confine himself to a tub on wheels. Even when Stomas tells him the joy of the open ocean and all the fun a pirate life provides, the sea creature refuses to part with his fellow knights. It's quite strange.    Another land-walker that Stomas has dealt with is a crazy spider named Arnie Brachnum. Stomas ran into him when his crew made landfall once, and the strange circus owner hunted him down to propose a partnership. Brachnum demanded that he hire Stomas to collect and deliver circus attractions for him (with a fine pay of course). Though there was profit to be had there, Stomas did not want his pirate crew to be turned into a bunch of errand boys, so he refused. This angered the spider to a rather frightening degree, and Stomas at least agreed to run one or two errands for him. Normally such an offer would calm things down, but Stomas and Brachnum still have quite the strained relationship. Stomas actively tries to avoid running into Brachnum on the shores now, as the captain had previously tried to deliver a load of Savanna Devils to the ringleader and accidentally forgot that they couldn't breath underwater. Needless to say, Brachnum was not too happy with this, and Stomas has been dodging him since.       Subordinates - Technically the crew of the Sea Goblin are Stomas' subordinates, but he does not like calling them such. Though he is indeed the captain, he prefers to see them as fellow friends and coworkers. While he may call the shots and make orders, he is open to their suggestions and always willing to lend an ear. To him, his crew is what truly matters, and he will not risk their safety if a job gets too dangerous. During battle, he will yell out orders and direct them in a raid, but when victory is claimed he is happy to celebrate besides them. His crew may grow or shrink, but his main members are: Graller, Lophiel, Styles, Hexel, Chrystine, Hal and Glesni. There is also Malfred, who is the manta ray who carries the Sea Goblin on his back. Though he is technically a part of the ship, Stomas sees him as a valuable crew member and is always sure to check on his health and mood. On top of that is his loyal pet octopus Molly. Molly can always be found with Stomas, usually perched on his hat or antenna. Stomas absolutely loves his little friend, as he enjoys having her around and feeding her sardines. Though she may be small, Molly is quite the clever cephalopod. She is good at mimicking voices, fiddling with complex mechanisms and sneaking past defenses. Her small body and color changing ability allows her to sneak around unnoticed, which she uses to sabotage enemies and startle foes. When Stomas is in the middle of a sword fight, it is not uncommon for Molly to squirt a stream of ink into the opponents eyes so that her master can get a free shot. While Stomas does care about the safety of his crew, any threats or harm that is directed towards Molly will enrage him and he will not stop until the offender is chum.   Abilities - As a dweller of the deep sea, Stomas possesses many abilities that make him a powerful opponent. His thick, colorful armor is quite difficult to penetrate, allowing him to deflect sword slashes and bludgeoning blows. His many legs allow him to skitter about surprisingly fast, and they are perfect for keeping him steady and balanced when the sea gets rocky. One of the most noticeable weapons he has is his massive cannon claw. When underwater, such a claw was used to pressurize water and fire off a power jet to blow away attackers. Up on the surface, it can be loaded with various types of ammunition so that it can be fired off like a cannon. He commonly uses cannon balls to punch holes in enemy ships or send foes flying into pieces. When not being used for long range battle, Stomas can easily crush foes with its powerful muscles and skewer them with its sharp points.    Another impressive ability that he has, that is not as obvious as his cannon claw, is his eyes. These rectangular organs are extremely complex and powerful, allowing him to see things that are invisible to everyone else. They are well adapted to picking up minute details, which he uses when sizing up ships or fighting opponents. No one besides himself knows what he can all see, and he refuses to talk about it so that he doesn't give away all his tricks.     Tools - Though his natural body provides plenty of abilities and weapons, Stomas does use a sword during battle. His claws do not possess the reach a blade has, so he prefers to use that when the fight gets up close. Though he is not a sword master, his eyes make up for all of it. Their ability to see an extreme level of detail allows him to notice subtle movements of his foes and predict how they will strike next. Though a little sloppy in his form, he has the uncanny ability to block practically every swing that comes at him. The other tool he has is the Sea Goblin itself. This bizarre ship may seem waterlogged and busted, but it is a monster when it comes to naval battles. Since it is reliant on Malfred to stay above water, no amount of damage to its hull will sink it. The masts are superfluous and its maneuverability is unmatched. The ship itself is coated in barnacle cannons that use water pressure to fire off rounds, easily puncturing wood and metal. The Sea Goblin can also dive underwater, allowing it to flee losing battles or outflank opponents with ease. Even if the Sea Goblin takes a large amount of damage, the crew can just take the busted remains of their opponent's ship and use it for repairs.     Weaknesses - Though he is quite intimidating, Stomas does have his weaknesses. As a creature of the sea, he cannot be out of the water for too long. While he may be able to walk around for a few hours without issue, he will always need to submerge himself in salt water eventually. Opponents who flee inland will be safe from him, as a chunk of his crew cannot pursue, and he dare not go too far from the water. Though armored and wielding powerful claws, there are ways to take advantage of him in battle. His massive cannon arm is good at long range, but poor when facing foes up close. It may be strong, but it is quite slow. Those who keep themselves positioned close to this giant claw will be able to easily dodge its slow punches, and make his sword swings awkward and clumsy. His antenna are also a vulnerable point, as they are packed with sensors and nerves. Hitting them will stagger him, as the strike will overload his senses and throw him off his game. As a creature of the water he is also vulnerable to cold spells and ice magic. Lastly is his devotion to his crew. If any of his crew mates are captured and threatened, he will do anything to ensure their safety. Even worse, if one were to take Molly hostage, they would have absolute control over the distraught captain.  
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