#and i do kind of hate when stories do that in general. just flatten everything into something feel-good

[itspileofgoodthings]

but on a more serious note, I do hate when any adaptation--but especially this one!--decides to change the nature of specific uncomfortable or antagonistic character interactions to something softer or sweeter, or even just decided to give two characters that don't get along or interact much at all A Moment™. That really is not always the right call!

[comicaurora]

Being a watcher of anime, I just wanted to say that you've done a fantastic job of handling power creep in your comic. Is that something you think about in writing your fight scenes? Like, are you consciously making sure your characters never get to late DBZ levels of bullshit?

Ho yea, definitely. Stay tuned for January, I've got a video on powerups cooking because this has 100% been on my mind.

Spoilers for that, but my general theory is that power creep is a systemic problem that results from flattening the story's conflict struggle into a linear power vs power clash. This is most obvious in stories that are 100% strength-based with things like numerical metrics of "power level" where the thing that determines who wins the fight is who can get the highest number, but it also applies in stories where the starting premise of every new villain is "none of our tricks work on this guy!" Making the new bad guys too tough or otherwise too immune to the heroes' swiss-army skillsets makes everything feel floaty and pointless until the writer finally takes the limiters off and lets them wack 'em for real. It's frustrating because it's designed to be frustrating for both the characters and the audience, but it's also a trap. It locks the writer into an arms race with themself and also devalues all their increasingly cool ideas by virtue of inflation.

Hell, quick tangent, that's why I'll go to bat for one of the most hated mini-twists in the more recent Dragon Ball movies, when in Resurrection of F, Goku is severely injured by a regular laser pistol because it was a sneak attack in the back he wasn't ready for. Everyone got so mad, because of course he's like eight powerups past Super Saiyan at this point and it feels ludicrous that this could hurt him when Frieza death-beams couldn't, but it added a twist of actual stakes to these literal physical gods by recontextualizing their toughness as requiring awareness, preparedness and training. A sneak attack from a random minion could still take them out! Suddenly this conflict structure wasn't just power vs power, because stealth was a factor that could sidestep that power clash and render all those fancy new forms completely unhelpful.

Writing this story is already kind of a hard-mode thing, because I like making characters that are blatantly quite overpowered. There are things that every one of these protagonists are just too strong or tough or magical or socially powerful to (typically) worry about. Alinua is, frankly, basically never in danger of dying, and if she has time she can do feats of magic on a very large scale that basically can't be matched. Kendal and Falst are strong and tough enough to shrug off or push through physical injuries that could incapacitate or kill the others, and Kendal literally has multiple gods on his side, though that's not always a good or helpful thing. Tess is extremely hard to trap or slow down, and bladed/edged weapons have a lot of trouble with her. Erin is so versatile there are almost no situations where he's legitimately powerless, and he's very good at coming up with plans. Dainix has a one-two punch of a ton of combat training and a super-mode that pops out when he's in serious danger or overly stressed, which in writing-land is basically a get-out-of-danger-free card.

I think the trick is that all of these things are overpowered in specific directions, and they are not so overpowered that they can completely disregard other threats.

Kendal and Falst are not so strong and tough that they can just brute-force their way through, say, an entire city or an army of bad guys, and Tess isn't agile enough to completely run away from everybody, which is why they still need to be strategic when dealing with an enemy city, and why Tess's lack of tactical planning in Zuurith was starting to get her worn down by sheer numbers.

Erin and Alinua are ludicrously powerful, but on a much slower timescale than their teammates, so they're vulnerable to incapacitation by fast and agile opponents - and because of the way their magic works, if they're rendered unable to channel energy - like in the fight in Gleicann's forest - they're completely helpless. Because this is a weakness all mages have, everybody knows about it.

Erin has a high amount of social and political clout, but that means he has to play by a set of rules that basically nobody else does in order to retain that clout. He's dealing with a space of danger and complexities whenever they're dealing with other political powers, and he's doing it completely alone.

Dainix's regular non-Crucible form, despite being a highly trained and capable warrior, is just as vulnerable to physical threats as any normal non-mage human, making him the least prepared for a straight fight - and his Crucible form is barely understood and even harder to control, making it a tool that's very, very risky to rely on. He doesn't yet know what all his abilities are or what they cost him to use, and the first time it happened he was out of commission for weeks, so he knows there's risk attached.

There are always perpendicular threats or environmental factors that can hamper our heroes and feel totally logical in doing so, as long as their powerup is not just narrative shorthand for "okay they can win now." I steer clear of "the power of friendship has given me the boost I needed" because you can do that anywhere in any situation. I caveat'd the hell out of Vash's literal divine intervention in chapter 18 because "the literal physical god with perfect regeneration and supernova powers can show up at any time" is the kind of absolute stakes-killer I know better than to give free rein. There was an earlier draft where Vash could still heal Kendal (sort of retroactive spoiler alert, for a very long time there was a version of this fight where his enemy fully took off one of Kendal's arms and when Vash took him over he reformed it) but I had a dang good reason to not do that, so I didn't. Giving Kendal imperfect control over Vash's starfire abilities is narratively dangerous in the power-creep longterm forecast, but the fact is, even in the absolute best-case scenario where he gains perfect, effortless control over the raw fragment of a living star, I can still tie those powers to Kendal having access to the sword, and there are still lots of problems that cannot be solved by setting them on fire.

And even if a tool could be used to solve a problem, I think it's very important to focus on whether or not the character would be willing to do that. This is something I focused on a lot in the next couple chapters with how Dainix and Falst are gonna navigate the SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER. Kendal is, for the most part, totally unwilling to kill anything that isn't a chimera, severely limiting the practical applications of being able to crack rocks with his bare hands. Erin could theoretically solve most of his social conflicts through displays of raw magical power to intimidate or brute force his problems, but if he goes wild and stops being seen as a reasonable political player, he loses all of that oh-so-important social capital that makes people value him for more than just a talent for violence. Alinua knows full well the terrifying potential of her magic power, and all the horrible things it could do to anyone and everyone if she pushed her power past their limits, but spending ten years terrified of doing exactly that has left her completely unwilling to even consider that, even for people she hates.

So yea, it's a delicate balance I'm doing my level best to maintain, while still making sure our heroes get their wins and make progress. Reassuring to hear it's working out okay so far!

[onlyweknowleeknow]

Almost Forever

Han x reader

Genre: angst, breakup au, idol au.

Synopsis: Han had always been the one, you had never doubted it for a moment. But sometimes, the right people come at the wrong time. And because of this, your relationship came crashing down in a mix of hateful tears, sorrowful words, and not so sweet goodbyes.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: afab reader, mental/emotional manipulation, hints of fluff, angst, depression, anxiety, perfectionism, language, crying, yelling, fighting, break ups, regret, misunderstandings, unhappy ending(slanted parts are memories), Han has big time anger issues.

A/n: this is gonna be a unique story. I’m not very motivated to write a normal one, so I hope y’all like this type of writing too. I do not condone this kind of relationship, it is definitely not healthy. this is simply a figment of my imagination, please do not take offense to it, nor get upset by anything said in the story. enjoy! :)

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Han Jisung.

The name seemed so distant, yet all too familiar.

It seemed like an eternity ago, the day he simultaneously walked out the door and out of your life.

Han Jisung had given you anything and everything. It only took the curl of your lips or the flutter of your lashes to get what you desired from him. And you, too, had given him everything. But sometimes, everything still isn’t enough.

Sometimes, on a completely random page in the book of your life, a new character is written. And sometimes, that character fades away within a few chapters, sometimes just a few pages. Yet sometimes, if you get lucky, that character will stay. That character will blossom into someone you couldn’t imagine your story without.

Unfortunately, authors like to tease their readers, don’t they? So they swirl hundreds of words and emotions together, spinning a web of adoration around each and every character, only to rip them away, one by one, when you least expect it.

They build people up, up, and up. Higher and higher, until they break the ladder, until they send one character or another tumbling into a pit of despair and longing and emptiness.

To you, that’s who Han was. He was your favorite character, the one that everyone adored and admired, the one that had been written off the pages of your book all too soon.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You unlocked the dull-looking door with a groan. It pushed open to reveal an even more tiresome looking apartment.

Without much thought, you dropped your purse and slid off your shoes. You walked towards the couch with lazily strides, feet dragging.

It had been a long day, an extremely long day. Your boss had been so generous to give you an extra load of work because, apparently, one of your co-workers had called off sick and, also apparently, that was your issue. Somehow.

You didn’t have time to dwell on the past workday, though.

Suddenly, you recalled some leftovers you had in the fridge, tucked away in the very back, hidden safely away. Who knew, maybe Changbin would pop by and snatch up any remaining food. Wouldn’t be the first time.

So, with another groggy sigh, you diverted your path to the kitchen, rather than to the couch. As you walked into the kitchen, your eyes landed on a piece of paper that was magnetized to the fridge.

You had forgotten about the folded sheet, so you inspected it closer.

Quickly, you pulled away, then breathed in a sharp inhale. It was a simple recipe for rice cakes you had used almost a year ago now.

It wasn’t that you really needed the recipe, now or back then, but Felix had recommended it and how were you supposed to deny his suggestion, the baker himself?

Your eyebrows furrowed, your hands came down to snag the paper from the fridge and immediately crumpled it into a ball. You threw it away, then let your hands run over your face as memories began to cloud your vision.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Your fingers flattened the table cloth, your tongue pushed against the inside of your cheek. You hoped it looked okay.

Your hesitant gaze wandered across the dimly lit room.

You had spent hours planning the little event in your dining room, but it was well worth it. The crimson table cloth was neatly splayed across the table, delicious food lay spread across it.

One of the dishes included some rice cakes you had spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to perfect, who could have guessed Felix’s recipe would be for advanced bakers only?

Flowers were placed in the center of the table, and candles were set around the perimeter of the room in miscellaneous patterns.

You pushed your hands together and breathed into them happily.

You did good. Yes, this was definitely worth the struggle. He would love it, you assured yourself.

You couldn’t stop the excitement that bubbled up your spine, couldn’t stop your fingers from lightly twitching.

You drew in a sharp breath and scrunched your nose, a habit you used to put your emotions at bay. You spun on your heel after checking your watch; 8:22pm. Han would be home soon, he had promised to try to come home around 8:30pm, which was an hour sooner than he normally got home. It was your 4th anniversary, after all.

You made your way into the bathroom, and made sure to touch up your hair and makeup, along with the grey dress that adorned your figure. It was pretty and delicate looking, yet comfortable to wear and soft to the touch. Your hair was pulled back, styled into a fragile bun. You allowed a few pieces of hair to fall over your forehead; it completed the look, you thought.

When you entered the kitchen again, it was 8:29pm. You hummed, and sat down in your chair to stop from fidgeting. Though, your foot continued to tap against the ground, your teeth also continue to nibble at your lower lip.

You couldn’t sit still, hands itching to touch or fix something. So, you stood up and shuffled around. You fixed everything that was out of place, humming a soft song that had been stuck in your head all day. You arranged the pillows in size order, fixed the dishes that were slightly out of place in the kitchen, rearranged the food platters on the dining table, and touched-up practically anything else you could get your hands on.

Time sure did fly by, because when you checked your watch again, it was already 9:15. Han should’ve been home a while ago, but you couldn’t really get mad. He did say it would be a tight fit, so you decided to wait.

But the seconds turned into minutes, the minutes into an hour, and an hour into 3 hours. And soon enough, you were slouched on the couch, staring at absolutely nothing.

Maybe he got held up? He wouldn’t purposely bail. He was a busy man, after all. He had to write songs for StrayKids’ upcoming comeback, learn choreos, and more.

You stood up, then sat back down. What could you do, really? It was 12:30am now, you were getting tired and worried. It wouldn’t be the first time Han had skipped a date the two of you had planned, but he hadn’t skipped your anniversary dates before. It was a mistake, you were sure.

As another hour passed and Han still wasn’t home. You decided enough was enough. You packed up all the food and cleaned off the table, folding the crimson table cloth into a neat square, before putting it away. You did the dishes, and by the time you were finished making sure everything was spotless, it was 2:07am.

You fought the urge to stay up and wait for your boyfriend. Instead, you walked to your shared room and undressed, putting on some pajamas. You then took off your makeup and thoroughly washed your face. You put your hair into a more comfortable updo and settled into bed, snuggling into the warm, entrancing covers and sheets. You stared at nothing for the hundredth time, a single tear escaping your eyes and leaving it’s mark on the pillow below your head. You checked your phone one last time, but still, radio silence met you from Han’s end.

It was an accident. It had to be.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Your mind was filled with memories of him for the rest of the night, and well into the next day.

Work was long and tiresome again today, so you took a short break. You wanted to get coffee, but you really didn’t want to have to call a cab or walk. So you just stayed in your sad, little office, giving your mind a break.

A migraine was starting to form in your head, the familiar throb of pain washing over your body in waves. You sighed, today was only getting worse. Your co-worked had called off for all week, which meant you had double the workload… all week, obviously.

Even though you were prepared to handle everything, your mind was elsewhere, deciding that you definitely shouldn’t get any work done today.

But your self break ended soon, so you had to get back to work. Working definitely made the day go by slower, paperwork upon paperwork piled on your desk. It seemed like the day was endless. Even so, you were hardly able to make a dent in the papers on your desk, which just pissed you off more. 

You groaned, checking your watch.

A mistake. Your eyes hovered on the piece of jewelry, time slowing down even more, if that was even possible. Apparently it was.

It was a simple, leather watch with black numbers and silver pointers.

You unhooked the watch, flipping it over to stare at the indent on the other side. It was Han’s initials plus yours, a reminder that you would forever be his. And maybe, at the right time, you would’ve been.

You found yourself biting the insides of your cheeks, chewing carefully.

And then it happened for the second time within less then 24 hours. It was strange, really. You hadn’t thought about him for months, not even if you looked at the watch. But after yesterday, he hadn’t left your mind, not even once.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Have you seen Han?” Your voice sounded small, even to you.

You only shrunk when Chan and Changbin turned their eyes to you. You weren’t scared by any means, just nervous. You had recently been nervous quite a bit. It was unusual for you, but what could you do? Nothing, not really.

Changbin shook his head. “I haven’t since he left about two hours ago. He might’ve gone to the other recording room though.” He offered. Chan agreed, his deep voice speaking up as well. “Yeah, he probably did. He goes there a lot when he can’t think of lyrics, or just when he needs a break.”

You thanked the boys, who offered you sweet smiles and soft whispers of ‘good luck’.

The pair was right, Han was in the other recording room. You could see him through the small glass panel on the door. He was sitting on the small sofa that sat in the middle of the room, hands covering his face. You watched him for a moment, but he hardly moved from his spot, so you knocked.

That made him jolt upwards, his eyes wide. He relaxed when he saw you, gaze softening as he motioned for you to come in. “Hey my love, what are you doing here?” He asked when you opened the door and walked inside, his voice hoarse. You assumed he had been napping. You offered him a smile, walking towards the couch, where Han was now sitting up with his arms outstretched for you.

You giggled, approaching him. He wrapped his arms around your hips, face pushed against your torso. “I missed you.” He mumbled, sighing deeply. You rested your hands on the top of his head, stroking his soft hair. “I missed you too.” You said quietly, not wanting to startle him awake too much.

“I’m actually here to check in on you. You missed our date again.” You slowly spoke, waiting for his response. And just like that, he was tense again. His muscles tightening for just a moment, before he pushed himself away from you. You stumbled slightly, blinking down at him.

“What do you mean, ‘again’?” He asked.

“Well— I’m sure you didn’t mean to, but you missed our last two dates also.” Your voice was slow and hesitant.

Han scoffed, standing to his full height slowly. “You know I’m an idol, right?” He asked, his tone laced with irritation.

You sighed, bristling. “Of course I know that. I’m not blaming you, I’m just letting you know how many dates you’ve missed now, I—“

You were interrupted by the, now upset, man. “It’s always about me messing up, isn’t it? I have a lot of pressure on my shoulders, y/n. I have to produce music for the group, and still attend normal practices.” He defended himself.

“Han, that’s not what I’m saying, I just—“ He interrupted you again.

“On top of that, I also have an extremely busy schedule to attend to. Fan meets, concerts, filming, vlives, and more things you don’t even want to know about.” Han was practically fuming now, his pent up anger exploding all over you.

“Han, calm down. I know you’re busy, I’m just saying that you’ve missed some of our dates. It’s really okay! I just wanted to tell you and check in.”

Han scoffed at that, crossing his arms as his gaze narrowed. “Calm down? You’re telling me it’s okay? It’s not fucking okay, y/n. All you do is talk about yourself! I can never do anything to please you anymore. You always complain about me not being around, when we both know I spend as much time as I can with you!” He continued on, “I work so hard, harder then you, that’s for sure. You just sit at a desk and sign papers all day, while I’m working my ass off to perform in front of millions of people! On top of that, I have to deal with Dispatch trying to pry into our private lives!” He shouted. Throwing insult after insult at your job and life.

“I know and I’m sorry, but that’s not fair, Jisung.” You said in a hushed tone.

Han paused. You almost never used his first name. But rage blinded him, so he continued. “You’re right, it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that I have to deal with your complaining all the time, on top of my already stressful life. Would you just give it up? I need a fucking break.”

The Han you had agreed to date would have never reacted to anything like that. But this Han, he wasn’t the same person. He had changed over the past 4 years, and not really in a good way. You could feel tears threaten to spill from your eyes, and judging by the way his own gaze softened, you weren’t doing a very good job at hiding it.

That was the day you really, truly accepted the fact that your sweet, playful Han was gone, at least for now. It was time to close this chapter of your book, it was time to let Han Jisung go. You didn’t want to, but his words just sealed your relationship’s fate.

You stared at the boy who had stolen your heart, only ripping your eyes away when you felt a tear slide down your cheek.

“Fine. You want a break? I’ll give you a damn break.”

You shoved past him, ignoring his sorry pleads of forgiveness and his empty promises. “Y/n- wait, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, let’s talk. I let my anger get the best of me, I promise it won’t happen again. Y/n—“ You didn’t want to leave him, of course you didn’t, but you had to. If not for yourself, then for him.

It wasn’t fair, it really wasn’t.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wanted to curl up into a little, tiny ball and never see the light of day again. Life was cruel and harsh, you had been sure of that since you were a child.

But now, as an adult, after falling in love, the world seemed unfair in a whole new way. A cruel way.

Your heart shattered each time you saw Han in a news article or on television. It hurt to see dating rumors and scandals about the boy. You didn’t know if any of them were true, since you had cut contact with all of the members, and you certainly had no claim over him, but the thought of him with someone new or just the thought of him struggling, still broke your heart.

Even after all these months, the boy had managed to retain a solid grip on your life, his face appearing in even your deepest dream as of late.

And when you awoke, sorrow would fill your mind, trapping you within it’s depths.

But here, in the middle of your work day, was not the time to think about the miserable story that was your love life, or former love life, rather.

The only thing you could do here and now was hope for the best for Han Jisung and his members.

And sometimes, if you allowed yourself, you could imagine what it would have been like to spend eternity with the precious boy. Because god only knows; you two had almost forever.

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A/n: I wrote this while at a sleepover with two of my friends. It was hectic and honestly, this isn’t proof read. I have no idea why I decided to write a brand new story instead of writing a chapter for my ongoing series, or finishing up one of the two stories I already had mostly finished. But anyways, I wrote this in like 2 hours with a ridiculous amount of distractions, so forgive any mistakes. <3

[angrylittlesliceofpizza]

i need to rant a bit because oh FORKING SHIRT i’m so. so. tired. of everything.

but like, right now, especially my *continued inability to JUST WRITE MY FORKING STORY*. why, brian, you forking stoopid brain.

like, i know why, partly. existing in the first place (with adhd, anxiety and possibly autism) is kinda hard in general, especially in the middle of winter (yay seasonal depression) even with light seriously coming back.

the world and everything is just So Much these days that my main goal is “get up in the morning, not go back to bed until night, don’t forget to eat and drink some water-based stuff in between”. i got used to go outside again when the weather was light and warm for a couple weeks, but now i’m stuck inside again so it’s mostly zelda playing to distract me from the strong urge of “this is all pointless and i hate myself let’s just go be miserable under my duvet”.

so, zelda works for the main goal. but since i’m awake and doing stuff, inevitably i’ll think about that story. and that’s a Problem.

i first need to gather the will to think about it. concerta helps, but the i also have Other Stuff to do. like, y’know, normal procrastination -_-

if i manage to *actually* decide to write, i usually panic and just mentally nope out right away.

if i remember to have some anti anxiety to block the noping urge, and actually look at what i was working on two weeks ago, i get stuck in the main problems of this project, and this is where i panic again and the hell circle starts turning.

it goes something like this…

- there’s Too Much of everything in there

- i need to cut down some stuff

- i don’t know what to cut without feeling like i’m horribly flattening the characters, and since it’s a very character driven story, that’s Bad

- bonus step: i don’t even know how to WRITE anymore, period

- extra bonus: i *never* knew how to write, i’m just rehashing the same thing over and over and adding bells and whistles (standard impostor syndrome, let’s just. try and gently ignore it. shush.)

- the usual advice to that is “just write everything and then cut”, which is. NOT HELPING. my “method” is long, slow, tedious. i need to *reduce the amount of writing i have to do in the first place*. because my process means that wether i want to or not, i keep adding stuff every time i write a bit of the story just to be able to write SOMETHING

- yes it’s annoying. yes i’ve tried not to. idk how. I WISH I KNEW

- at this point i just want to give up. problem: it’s not an option.

- since i know it’s not an option, i think: hey what if i got professional help? like, a writing coach. a co-author.

- … these have problems too: mainly, for the first, no trustworthy person i know is available, and also i would have to pay, which has its how anxieties attached (yes i f—ing HATE THAT ANXIETY don’t worry i know that kind of work is worth the price when done well) and for the second, WHO. WHOMST. WHO THE FORK would sign up to co-write a story i have entirely plotted out, in a world and with characters that are already so fleshed out they feel solid and real in my mind, and so would basically end up being a ghost writer for a novel (or short series) with a ridiculously massive wordcount and a completely unknown author? no-one that’s who. no-one has that kind of time and dedication for a project they won’t add creative stuff to and that’s not very likely to sell. and on top of it feeling Very Wrong, i don’t have the money to actually pay a ghostwriter.

- (also: no, i won’t ask chatgpt omfg i write IN FRENCH that’s why it wouldn’t sell! no i can’t write that story in english. i’ve tried. it’s horrible; i overthink everything even more. big nope.)

-  at this point, idek what i want anymore.

- fifo’s timing being IMPECCABLE as always, he pops by towards the very end of that big paragraph above, and goes “woah, you’re now flopped in the comfy chair playing zelda :o” to which i reply “no i’m ranting about how i can’t write :| ” and so he patpatpats my shoulder and since i feel like crying and don’t want that to happen i shoo him away. the whole moment does NOTHING to help.

- i know even less what i want.

- bonus: it’s 3:20 pm, and my lunch, a plate of pasta, is cooling for the third time or so in an hour. i’m wondering if it’s still worth heating up again. brb i’ll solve that conundrum.

- by “idk what i want” i mean: do i actually want to write that story, and share it with random people who might like it (yay) or not (meh) and maybe even be awful *to me* about it (yikes)? but what else could i do anyway? develop endlessly and seemingly pointlessly their world, and the story behind it being lost with me when i inevitably die? (yeah, all of us, sooner or later)

- at this point, brian the forking brain informs me that publishers would hate my story anyway, because a character that used to be a kind of self insert (and is still part of my coping mechanisms for stuff like, yknow, being mortal) is waaayyyy too obviously that and “urgh, cringe”. first, brian, wtfh, we are 40, we are trying to be a positive person, and “cringe” is IN NO WAY part of our vocabulary o_o shut up.

- so. i can’t abandon this project that is too big for me. i can’t write it either, because i have no idea how to make it smaller to help me cope with it. at some point i thought writing linearily and publish as i was writing would help with that, but… no. it doesn’t. i can’t write straight (hah) to save my life. sorry, i meant 'novel’. same thing though at this point. idek how to *cut down that thing into manageable chapters* they are all SO DAMN LONG WHY (also blog interfaces, for posting and reading, are… Not Made For That. and AO3 was no better when i used it to post a thing.)

- so, i’m stuck in limbo. another solution would be “read! read a LOT!” and— look. i’m not sure i have the spoons for it. i’ll try, with audiobooks, but then i feel like i'll probably just feed my impostor syndrome.

- in conclusion, fuck everything, i’ll finish my pasta and go back to playing zeld while drinking coke.

[bubblegumfanfictions]

Falling in Love again.

Fandom- Bleach

Ships- Kisuke Urahara x Reader

Warnings- Some language, Implied Sexual Assault, Past sexual Assault.

Summary- Imagine a tally mark appearing on your skin every time you fall in love. When your tally mark is Red then it's onesided, Black then the love is returned. If it is scarred then your love ended traumatically.

You have a scarred tally mark and a red tally mark, the red one being for Kisuke Urahara.

Word Count- 3,928

You led in bed staring down at your wrist where a single red tally mark decorated your skin. In this world, a tally mark showed your love. People who fell in love easily were littered with marks, whereas the people who were only in love with one person would have one. If the mark is red it's unrequited, if it was Black then the person you love returns your feelings.

Your singular red mark was for Kisuke Urahara, a friend of your friends. You went to his shop with your friends whenever they needed something from him seeing as that seemed to be your only excuse to see him. You didn't want to come across as weird for visiting on your own. Especially when you have no real powers like the others.

Annoyingly you had one other mark on your arm, a scarred tally mark, one from your ex. In this world a scarred tally would mean that your love for them ended very abruptly and traumatically. No one knew about that tally, you were very good at keeping it hidden, whether it was with a well placed bracelet or a long sleeved shirt.

Rolling onto your side you let out a huff. It hurts, it shouldn't but it does. Knowing that the one man you love doesn't feel the same way. You barely get to see him since your friends don't visit that often. But you'll take whatever time you can with him even if you don't get to talk.

Well, only time will tell.

---

"Y/N!!!" A fist slammed against the door multiple times as Ichigo's voice yelled your name. "C'mon man! We've gotta get to Hat 'n' Clogs!" Sleepily, you raised your head taking a glance out of your open window.

"Wh-what for?" The early morning rasp in your voice made it a note or so deeper than it actually was. You stretched out and hopped out of bed throwing on the nearest clothing you had, which happened to be a (f/c) long knit sweater, a pair of black leggings and some brown boots.

"Y/N! We haven't got all day, move your ass!" You shook your head and ran out of the house not brushing your hair, figuring you could comb it down with your fingers on the way there.

By the time you got there you realised there was no point fixing your hair until you got inside in the first place. It was so windy outside that your hair just kept blowing around which made it worse than before. "Hey, come in guys." You froze for a moment as heat rushed to your face, you brushed a small amount of hair over your face, hoping he didn't notice it.

Quickly yet quietly you walked into the shop following behind Ichigo whilst you brushed down your hair. Kisuke stopped you briefly "You missed a spot." and with nimble hands, he began to flatten down your hair. "There, done." He gave you his signature grin, placing a hand onto the small of your back leading you to the rest.

Once Kisuke leads you to your friends he then gets down to business. “So, I am assuming you guys are here for the training grounds, right?” The ginger he questioned nods his head. You didn’t have any special abilities at all, but your friends knew you were great moral support and a generally good person so they let you in on their secret.

Most of the time you find days like this one quite boring, sure you’d get to see Kisuke but you usually have nothing to do. On some days you would help Tessai, Jinta and Ururu with their work or well, in Jinta and Ururu’s case, you would do their work for them.

When your friends finish training and all head home Kisuke typically gives you something for your time. At first he would give you the equivalent of minimum wage for the amount of work you do but recently (due to finding out your love for (favourite collectable)) he would end up getting you those instead.

The boys and Orihime go down into the training room, leaving you upstairs in the shop with Kisuke. “So, um… Is there anything you need me to do today?” you asked in your typically meek voice. Being with Kisuke made you so nervous you could barely talk, so being able to say that was a blessing.

Kisuke tilted his hat back with his thumb as he thought about things you could do around the shop. “Not that I can think of, for once Jinta and Ururu did the work I assigned for them.” You fake gasped at his comment. They finished their work… Early?

“No way, Jinta and Ururu finished their work? Damn that never happens.” Kisuke laughed at your comment and squeezed your shoulder. Yeah, when you did hang out with Kisuke alone you did have a lot of fun, but you still don’t like to intrude if you don’t have a reason to.

“Tell me about it.”

“Well what am I meant to do then?!” You dramatically waved your arms in the air in exasperation. When you did so Kisuke caught sight of the two tally marks and promptly grabbed your wrist.

“A Scar and a Red tally mark. I’m sure those are both fun stories.” He lightly massaged the scarred tally on your wrist making you flinch. He looked up at you in concern, dropping your arm. “Sorry.”

“It is fine, I’m just- No one has ever seen that before, as you can imagine I’m not particularly keen on anyone seeing that one..” You explain, rubbing the scar to try and ease some of the emotional turmoil.

“Does anyone know? Ichigo? Orihime? Chad?” He listed off some of your friends and to each one you shook your head. No one knew this, and you were planning on keeping it a secret from everyone, not even Kisuke was meant to know. “Would you mind telling me?” You shook your head once more. You didn’t even want to remember the scar, much less the asshole who caused it.

Kisuke rubbed your shoulder, trying to soothe your pain with a small smile on his face. "It's fine, you don't have to talk about it. But if you ever need to, I'll be happy to listen." Tears start to pool in your eyes, you've never spoken about it to anyone outside of your family, maybe it would be good. But not now.

You gave Kisuke a tight hug, the tears in your eyes spilling out. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." You kept repeating over and over into his chest. Kisuke was shocked at first but wrapped his arms around you, rubbing his fingertips up and down your spine to calm you down, his cheek pressed into your hair.

Both of you stayed that way for a while until you finally calmed down, letting go of the tall, green clad man. "I'm sorry about that- I should probably head home." You scrubbed at your eyes with the sleeve of your jumper with an appreciative smile on your face.

"Hey, it is fine." Kisuke messed up your hair with one of his hands. "It is nothing to worry about, just know that I am here if you need to talk. Just because you don't have powers doesn't mean you can't come here whenever you want to." He cups your face in his hands with a grin "YOU are an absolute pleasure to have here, okay?" You nodded your head, still too upset to really speak properly. "Good."

Kisuke walks you to the door once you calmed down enough and saw you out. "Hope to see you here soon, Y/N." You nodded your head.

"That will probably be when they come here again." You smiled at him, waving your hand as you walked home.

------- Timeskip to a week later. -------

You walk home from the shops as you keep looking down at the shopping list, making sure that you have everything. Your mother had asked you to go down because she forgot some ingredients she needed. It was getting a little dark and it was kind of scary being by yourself, but at the same time you did enjoy the peace and quiet.

"Ohhh, Look who it is." Your face paled, you knew that voice anywhere, he was the reason for the scar. "Why do you look so scared, don't you remember the fun we had together?" You bit your lower lip harshly, weighing out your options. Urahara's shop wasn't that far away so you could make a break for it, but you knew he was a fast runner.

With a groan you made your choice and dashed to the shop. "Oi! Get back here you stupid cunt!" Of course, you could hear the sound of heavy footfalls hitting the asphalt behind you, this was inevitable. But if you got close enough to the shop you knew that you'd be able to at least get someone's attention, whether it was Jinta, Ururu, Kisuke or Tessai.

"Oh, Y/n I knew you enjoyed our time together, you remembered how much I enjoyed the struggle. Although you were so much more compliant when you slept." You stopped dead in your tracks, you hated him, you hated thinking about him... About the things he has done and the fact that you loved him once. He laughed at your stop, you were almost right outside of the shop by this point, but that didn't matter.

"Do you finally agree with me Y/n? Do you finally see that it is all you're good for?" You were trembling by this point, not from fear, oh no; from pure hatred. You dropped the bag you were holding in your dominant hand and with a quick turn you put all of your anger into your movements and punched him in the face, knocking him to the floor.

Your body, however, was still shaking. You wanted to hurt him, you wanted to hurt him bad. How was it fair that he got out of the relationship with nothing yet you with a heart full of anxiety and fear. You readied yourself to hit him again with the fist that already had blood on it since you broke his nose when you heard a voice call out to you.

"Y/n? Y/n? Are you okay?" Your head turned towards the store, and stood in the doorway was none other than Kisuke Urahara. You didn't even look down at him. You sprinted as fast as you could to Kisuke, pushing him inside of the building before sliding the door shut.

You led your back against the door as you slid down it, landing yourself on the floor. Your eyes were wide, frightened- Kisuke has never seen you with that expression, you looked terrified. Knowing something was up, he locked the store up and left the room, coming back with a warm cup of tea, sitting next to you.

He handed you the cup and spoke with a quiet voice, trying not to scare you. "What was all that about? Are you okay?" You shook your head, keeping your face directed towards the cup in your hands, which were still trembling. "Did you want to talk about it once you're calmed down?" You nodded your head, Kisuke was silent for a few seconds, as if contemplating whether or not he should say anything. "Did you want a hug?" You nodded again.

Kisuke wasted no time wrapping his left arm around you to pull you into his side, he used his thumb to rub little circles into your side as his head rested on top of yours. "It'll be okay, Y/n. You'll be okay, just breathe. Whatever happened won't happen anymore, you're safe here." He kept whispering to you.

Eventually, you finished the drink he made you and hugged him back. His face was now completely in your hair as he kissed the top of your head. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Y-yeah, thank you..." You stuttered out, tired from what had just occurred.

"Good, if you want I can run you a bath and get you some fresh clothes. You can stay the night if you don't feel safe to head back, okay?" You nodded your head, but then you remembered your mother. As if reading your thoughts, Kisuke spoke up again. "I'll phone your mum while you're in the bath and fill her in, how does that sound?"

"That sounds good, thank you Kisuke." He rubbed your head and stood up, offering you his hand.

After your bath you had calmed down considerably, no longer shaking and being able to speak. Kisuke left some of his clothes folded up in the bathroom for you to change into (which you did). You sat on Kisuke's bed cross legged, trying to comprehend what happened today when there was a knock at the door. "Come in."

Kisuke walks into the room with your phone in his hand. "So I spoke to your mother, she said you could stay here for the night and that I should walk you home at some point tomorrow, or whenever depending on how long you want to stay." He sits next to you and continues. "She also told me who that guy was. Nothing about what happened, she just said that he is the scum of the earth."

You laughed "Yeah, that sounds about right. Due to what happened I don't ever call him my ex. Whenever anyone mentions him we just call him twat." Of course, Kisuke was very confused as to what happened but he already asked a few times so he didn't want to push it, but the look on his face told you everything. "I'll tell you what happened."

"You don't have to." He protested quickly, not knowing if it would upset you to talk about it.

"It is fine, I just have one condition. This is a very touchy subject for me so I was wondering if you could um--- how do I put this?" Kisuke chuckled, knowing what you meant, sitting back with you on his bed, pulling you into his side, much like when you were against the door.

"Take your time."

You took a deep breath and began. "He was my first boyfriend, if I can call him that. He was controlling, manipulative and abusive in more ways than one. He didn't let me talk about any guys, if I played a game wrong he would stop me from playing it. If he was horny I'd have to do something about it and so on... Well anyway, it got to the point where I-- I didn't want to do anything like that. He said he was fine with it... But-" Your breathing got heavier the further into explaining, tears began to form and fall from your eyes. You hated remembering this, but you were hoping that maybe this would be good in the long run.

"Hey, look at me." You hear Kisuke say gently as he turns your face to him. "I know it may not mean or do much but you're safe here, nothing is going to happen to you, I'll look after you, okay? There is no need to worry while you're here, but I do understand why you are." He rubs your head affectionately, hugging you tighter. "Like I said, take your time."

You relished in that hug and composed yourself before continuing. "He said he was fine with it, but one night I woke up and his hand was somewhere it shouldn't have been and his other hand was--- y-yeah. He was with me for a while after that since I was too scared to break up with him. Then I met someone I really liked who was so nice to me, and I realised that I didn't want to be stuck with someone like him."

Kisuke made a noise of understanding. "So that is the red mark then, it is hard to believe that someone would be so thankful for a red mark."

"Yeah, I know. But I really am, and I'm thankful for the help from him too." You smiled, running your finger delicately along the red tally mark.

"Doesn't the red tally mark hurt though? That the person who saved you from that twat doesn't feel the same?" He asked, and yeah it was painful.

"Yeah, it is really painful. But I always think to myself I would rather have this red tally mark and be friends with him than have none at all and still be with twat. Anything is better than that even if it is not reciprocated love." You shrugged your shoulders trying to come across as nonchalant when all you wanted to do was tell Kisuke that the mark was him, but you decided against it. You let out a yawn that caught Kisuke's attention.

"I should probably let you sleep then." He gets up from his spot and you huddle under the covers. Kisuke grins at the sight, fixing the blankets over you and kissing your forehead. "Today has been a rough day so if you need anything just shout, okay? Even if you think it is dumb." Despite everything that happened you slept well that night.

----Time skip 3 days----

"Y/n! Let's go! Hat n Clogs is waiting!" Ichigo yelled up to your window, pulling you from your sleep. You rush to get dressed, throwing a jumper on with leggings like before and you ran from the house.

You opened the door and outside waiting for you was Ichigo and the gang. "Well? Come on!" With that you all went back to Kisuke's shop. Over the 3 days you and Kisuke got closer, he'd constantly phone your mother to check up on you. (since he phoned your mum before and not you so he knew her number) It bugged her so much that she gave you Kisuke's number so she wouldn't be bothered anymore, which was sweet.

Everyone walked into the shop and greeted Kisuke. "Ah, Y/n!" He wrapped his arm around your shoulder playfully, a smile playing across his lips. "Everything okay?" You could see his eyes from the angle so you knew what he meant and you smiled back at him.

"Yeah, I'm okay." He let go of you and began talking to the others about Gigai upgrades. As you tidied around the shop you heard the bell chime indicating someone had come in, you looked up and that someone was twat. Your eyes went wide as you dropped the broom you were holding, alerting the others.

Kisuke's carefree smile and attitude completely dropped when he saw who was there. He grabbed your shoulders, pushing you towards your friends, they noticed something was up there and they stood in front of you. "Get out." He shakes his head, walking around the store as he was being stared at by everyone. "I said get out."

Twat laughed, "I'm a customer here, you can't tell me to get out, I want to buy something." Kisuke got closer to Twat, who was starting to clearly become intimidated by your friends.

"I have the right to refuse people. Customers are typically human, and sadly you don't qualify for one of those, so get the fuck out of my shop." With each sentence Kisuke got closer to him until eventually he got so intimidated and fled. Kisuke locked the shop door and ran over to you, avoiding the strange looks from the others.

"Are you okay?" You appear to be in a state of shock, you feel like you can barely move or speak, you just stood there, trembling. Kisuke continues to ignore the others as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. "I am going to tell them if that is alright, just make any sound for a yes, okay?" He heard a small sound come from you so he begins to explain to your friends what happened.

-------

By the end of the explanation you came back to reality, since you weren't paying attention to anything other than Kisuke's arms around you, you were able to pull through pretty quick. Your friends all looked really mad at him for everything he did and thanked Kisuke profusely for helping you out through this. After a while, the others finally leave, giving you a hug and giving you a word of advice, they even offered to teach you how to fight which you decided to take up.

You sat with Kisuke in his room as you usually do after something like that happens. You were talking about nothing in particular when Kisuke stopped you. "Um- Y/n, that person- they return your feelings." You laughed

"No they don't, the proof is in the pu---" You lift your sleeve to show the proof when you noticed that he was right. The telly mark was Black now. You stare at the mark in utter shock. "I- What?" Your eyebrows furrowed together. "That is impossible, why would he like me?" Kisuke smiles at you, messing up your hair like he normally does.

"Probably because you're a fantastic p-" He stops dead in his tracks when he stops a completely new mark on his arm, the arm that was totally clean, in all of his years of living he has never fallen in love. You look up and wonder why he went quiet when you notice him staring at his arm, he must have realised who that tally mark is for. "That-" He gestures towards your mark. "That is for me, isn't it?"

You flush, you never thought you'd end up in a situation like this one. "Y-yeah it is." You bite your lip in worry, you knew he liked you as well, I mean you could literally see it, but that doesn't mean that he would want to be with you. Kisuke smiled softly at you as he ran his fingers through your hair.

"I always thought you were pretty, and I knew that I would absolutely fall for you, I could feel it. So I'm honestly glad it is returned. But um- We don't have to be in a relationship yet if you don't think you're ready for one." Kisuke was the sweetest and that is why, without a doubt in your mind, you knew that you were ready.

"I am ready, I've wanted to be with you for a long time now, I love you Kisuke." You blushed heavily. You think those words often enough but you didn't think you'd ever say them out loud to him.

"Since we have that sorted- can I kiss you?" Kisuke asked, his thumb running across your jaw, your skin tingling from his touch.

"Yeah, you can." His thumb moved, holding on lightly to your chin to pull you close. You were a hair's width away from kissing but he stayed there for a few moments with a look in his eyes that said 'You can still back off if you want to' but you didn't. He took your stillness as an invitation to continue and planted a soft kiss to your lips, his hands moved to cup your cheeks while your own remove his hat so they could rest in his hair. After a few moments of his soft kiss Kisuke pulled back, only to kiss you one more time.

"I love you too, Y/n. I'll make sure nothing bad will ever happen to you again."

[zigtheeortega]

hidden

pairing | blaine x mc

word count | 3.2k

warnings | smut. public sex. minors dni.

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @pixelsandkink, @natesewell, @choicesarehard, @empressazura 

author’s note | alright i guess this is how my foreign affairs obsession begins. i had to do a bit of random world building since we’re only three chapters into this bitch so please just ignore it if any of this turns out to be out of character and refuted later or something. also i love blaine ! foreign affairs supremacy

•─────────────────•

Her cheek slipped out of the palm of her hand, forehead smacking the desk, nearly jumping out of her skin at the abrupt awakening.

“Ow.”

She prodded the tender spot on her face, thankful her foundation was thick.

A soft snore caught her attention – next to her, Blaine was passed out. Leaning back in his chair, his head was thrown back, arms crossed against his chest, the textbook on its face in his lap.

“Hey, Blaine,” she whispered, barely audible over his snores, shaking his arm gently. “Blaine. Blaine –”

She shoved his arm, and he stirred, eyes popping open. He sat up too quickly, his knee hitting the edge of the table. “Shit –”

“Shhh,” she shushed him, jabbing a thumb towards the front desk, which was unoccupied. “I think we’re the last ones in here.”

“Huh,” he yawned, rubbing his eye with one hand.

“Hey!” She said, noticing the sound of crinkling in his lap. She snatched it up by the spine, furiously smoothing out the pages with flattened palms. “This is a priceless Rutherland book. There aren’t that many copies of this volume as is, and this is the original print. Be careful.”

“If you wanted to feel me up, you could’ve just said so,” he smirked, voice gritty and just the right amount of rasp to send a tingle up her spine.

“In your dreams.”

The last thing she remembered was skimming an old Ardonian textbook, fighting sleep as she tried soaking in as much as she could.

“Yeah, I saw you there, Carina,” he teased. “You were pretty wild.”

She rolled her eyes, flipping to a new page in her notepad, jotting down their textbook titles. “Do you remember where you stopped?”

“Nope. Most boring history book I’ve ever read,” he said, through another yawn.

Blaine was clearly a fast learner – he’d known how much the whole “Ardona versus Rutherland” thing had bothered her, so he set out to make that the one thing he teased her relentlessly about.

“Yeah, alright. You say that like reading about –” she flipped back a few pages, “‘Ardonian formal wear’ is somehow more interesting. If I have to read another page about the vast variations of lapels and cufflinks, I’m going to throw up.”

He shrugged. “There’s more exciting stuff. You just need to know where to look.”

“Okay, then show me.”

“Isn’t the library closing or something?” He stretched lazily, gesturing towards the empty desks and tables around them.

“Not for another…” she trailed off, shaking her wrist to readjust her watch. “Thirty minutes.”

“If it gets us out of here faster, I’ll assign you all the homework you want,” he said, scooting back from his chair, raising his hands above his head in a final, full body stretch, his hoodie lifting just above the belt of his jeans, her gaze roaming the thin line of hair below his belly button.

She averted her gaze, silently thanking herself for not being so obvious that he noticed her gawking.

She followed suit, trailing behind him with a stack of hardbacks in her arms, sliding them back in place as they stalked deeper and deeper into the maze of books.

“Right… here,” he said, dragging a finger across the spines, settling on a large, thick one right smack in the middle of the shelf.

He gently tugged it out of place, flipping the cover to show it to her. “This is a favorite.”

“Henrietta Hayes,” she read the cover, gently taking the book from his hands, ignoring the spark when their fingers brushed.

“Yep,” he said, leaning up against the bookshelf. “I much prefer biographies. More of a connection.”

She nodded. “Agreed.”

She turned the withered pages with a delicate touch, skimming as she went. “So you’re related to her?” “Yeah. She’s a great-great-great-great somebody,” he shrugged. “My parents didn’t have time to manually shove Ardonian history down my throat, so they settled for the next best thing – gifting me a stack of biographies for my thirteenth birthday.”

She grimaced. “That’s rough. You probably wanted a PlayStation or something, huh?”

He laughed breathily, the rasp from his sleepiness still lacing his tone. “Yeah, I wanted Mario Kart but I got endless Hayes’ stories. Don’t get me wrong, they’re interesting, but it’s proof they’ve been trying to groom me for the throne since I can remember.”

“So… why are you showing me this?” Carina asked, a bit confused. “What’s your angle?”

He shrugged again. “Trying to prove that we’re better.”

She sighed, snapping the book shut. “Alright, it’s been fun hearing about your ancient family members, but I’ll stick to the general information, thank you very much.”

His hand wrapped gently around her wrist, holding her in place. “You needed a reminder that I’m more than whatever you’ve been taught to perceive me as. I’m not whoever Henrietta was. I’m not whoever my parents want me to be. I’m just as lost as you are.”

She chewed the inside of her lip. “You’re right, but I can’t just ignore everything that’s been said to me. I’m supposed to hate you.”

“Well, do you?”

She sighed, staring at his hand, still holding her wrist. “I don’t hate anyone.”

“So, a non-answer. How diplomatic of you,” he scoffed, lip curled.

He was gorgeous, and infuriating. A horrible combination.

“You shouldn’t have kissed me or we wouldn’t be in this mess!” Carina whispered angrily, trying to keep her voice low despite her rage.

“You’re joking, right?” He shook his head, dropping his hand. “Carina, I don’t know what kind of revisionist bullshit you’re pulling right now, but if I remember correctly, you kissed me first.”

“Well – Well, my kiss didn’t count! It was a peck. I was coming down from an adrenaline rush. It wasn’t anything,” she shook her head, sliding the book back on the shelf. “You could’ve just left it at that, but you went in for round two, so you made it all complicated.”

“Yeah, I went in for round two because the first kiss sucked,” he said, emphasizing the last word.

She sucked in a sharp breath, trying to hold back a startled gasp. “If it sucked, you wouldn’t have gone in for another one.”

“Nope. Just trying to clean up after you,” he said, a hint of a teasing smile on his lips.

He was insufferable. Annoying. Unbearable. But he was gorgeous.

“What are we even arguing about? We’re literally just arguing to argue right now,” she huffed, flinging her arms in the air, letting her palms slap her thighs.

“You want to hate me, but you can’t. And you’re a bad kisser.”

She gritted her teeth, grabbing the lapels of his denim jacket, tugging him forward to smash her lips against his.

This kiss was a lot different than the last one – born out of frustration and anger and delicious sexual tension rather than exhilaration.

He groaned into her mouth, his hands grazing the hem of her skirt, slowly tracing the shape of her hips. He fisted the fabric there, pulling her closer, closer than they’d ever been.

The library was nearly silent, the dozens of rows around them completely unoccupied.

He slid his hands underneath her blazer, tugging at the hem of her skirt with a crooked finger. She could barely focus on what their mouths were doing anymore, considering he was two seconds away from copping a feel.

She pulled away, panting. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He laughed, just as out of breath as she was. “There’s nobody around. Live a little.”

“I can’t afford to ‘live a little’. You of all people should understand that, unless you’re just that dense.”

“Ouch. That almost hurt,” he smiled, hand snaking around her waist.

She smacked his chest with an open hand, her palm thudding inaudibly against the material of his hoodie. “Shut up.”

“Is this the part where you expect me to say ‘make me’? How cliche of you.”

“You’re the worst.”

“And you’re holding back because you think you owe people shit. You should let go,” he said, raising his hand to cup her chin. “I’ll be right here to catch you.”

Her lips parted involuntarily, a little dumbfounded by just how… suave this guy was. She was clearly immune to his charms in some capacity, but had just enough cracks in her exterior that he knew he could slip through.

“And you said I was cliched,” she said, running her hands down his lapels and smoothing them back in place. “I’ve, uh, never done this before.”

“Made out in a library? Weak –” He cut himself off at the look in her eyes, surprise flitting across his features before he wiped it away, the teasing back in place as quickly as it left.

“Guess I underestimated you,” he murmured, glancing around to check the surrounding area.

“That’s the best dirty talk I’ve heard in awhile,” she grinned.

He raised his brows at her, challenging. “You’re that easily impressed?”

He leaned in, so close that his lips grazed her earlobe, short whiskers scratching her jawline. “Wait till you see what else my mouth can do.”

She sighed involuntarily, eyelids fluttering. She really hated how her body reacted to his voice, low and grating, the bass of it sending shockwaves into her nerves. “Fuck…”

“Think I can make you cum before the librarian does her last rounds?” He said in her ear, hand splaying across the back of her skirt, gripping her ass, chuckling when she gasped.

“What about you?” She breathed, tilting her head to expose more of her neck to him, revelling in the way he sucked and nipped her skin.

“I know you’ll get me off. I mean, look at you,” he said, cupping her breast with his free hand. She sighed again, annoyed at herself for reacting – again.

His hands roamed, settling at the front of her skirt. “Is this okay?”

She nodded, rolling her lips to keep from making noise as his fingers slipped under her skirt, fingertips grazing the inside of her thighs. She sucked in a breath when he deftly pulled her underwear to the side, the pads of his fingers sliding against her.

“Don’t tell me auntie Henrietta’s got you this worked up.”

“Stop teasing me – no time –” she managed to get out, whining when his thumb circled her clit.

God, the act of being seen alone with him was enough to get her a headlining story, and kissing him would get her blacklisted faster than her mother could call her and chew her out – but fucking him? She’d never be able to show her face in public again.

But something about the rush of being with him, making her own choices, being spontaneous, was enough to make the decision for her.

“Just shut up and fuck me, Blaine,” she groaned, her nails digging into his shoulder, forehead pressed against him as she tried to focus on containing her noises.

“Turn around,” he ordered, spinning them around so she was pressed up against the bookcase. Thank god they were in the back, hidden by the edge of it.

She gripped the wood, trying to hide the trembling of her arms as he hurriedly shoved her skirt up over her hips, bunched at her waist.

He ran his hands over her hips, digging his fingers into her flesh. He toyed with the back of her thong, slipping his hand under the fabric before dragging it to the side.

“C’mon, stop staring. We don’t have all day,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“Goddamn, Carina,” he said, low and breathy. “Keep looking at me like that and it’ll be hard to stay quiet.”

She stared at the books in front of her, browsing the titles while he unzipped his jeans and rolled on a condom.

“You’re looking for books, even now?” He laughed, reaching his hand underneath her to stroke her clit gently. “You’re something else.”

“I was not –” she said, sucking in air when he expertly curled his fingers inside of her. “Jesus –”

“You sure you’re alright with this?” He asked, pumping himself slowly – she could feel his knuckles graze her ass and it was enough to make her breaths quicken. 

“Yes, Blaine – please she could be coming by any minute now –” She was cut off by him sinking into her slowly, languidly, and she dropped her head, sighing into the crook of her elbow, arms already bent and shaking.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, rasp still twinging his voice. He leaned forward, his left arm snaking to cup her breast, the right gently grabbing her chin to tilt her head towards him.

“Look at me when I’m fucking you,” he said, dragging his thumb across her parted lips while he pumped into her slowly, hips rolling deliciously slow.

“Oh my god – I –” Her senses were overstimulated – the way he was fucking her, talking to her, looking at her – she was already putty in his hands. She moaned an incomprehensible phrase when she grinded her hips, Blaine bottoming out inside of her.

“Use your inside voice,” he laughed breathily into her ear.

She opened her jaw, sucking his thumb into her mouth, revelling in the way his lids fluttered when she ran her tongue over the pad of it.

His pace quickened, hips snapping into her. He captured her earlobe between his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose, his low gravelly moans right in her ear.

As much as Carina wanted to scold herself for getting too comfortable with him that quickly, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

She was almost grateful for the forced tension with him via their parent’s pressuring – it made fucking him much more gratifying.

It wasn’t hate fucking, because she really didn’t hate him. He was annoying, but not evil. It was definitely a twisted act of vengeance – their reputations wouldn’t survive being caught like this, but neither of them cared in the moment.

God, it felt so good for her to just let go of the million expectations that everyone had for her to chase the one thing she wanted. That level of spontaneity was addicting – she didn’t blame Blaine for rebelling so often.

“Fuck – you’re so good –” he said, tilting her head to press hot, open mouthed kisses against her parted lips.

Probably to keep her quiet, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. He tasted so sweet, so fucking sweet –

“Blaine, please, I’m close,” she said through soft gasps, lips still touching his.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Keep going like that, and touch me, please,” she said, whining way louder than she intended to when his fingers found her again.

He covered her mouth with his hand, slowing his pace so he could scope it out. It was seemingly quiet, still, their soft pants the only sound.

She wiggled her hips, smiling against his hand when he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Such a tease,” he said, before moving his hips again.

She braced her arms against the bookshelf, pushing against him. He set a relentless pace, the low thumps of her skin against his jeans just loud enough that they definitely could have been noticed by someone a couple rows away.

“So, so beautiful,” he murmured, the words of affirmation falling from his lips as naturally as his teasing did.

The familiar intense feeling washed over her, clenching around him while white lined the edges of her vision. She folded her arms on the edge of the shelf, dipping her head so she could catch her breath.

“Can I just say that you’re looking absolutely regal right now?” He smirked, pulling out of her.

“You didn’t finish though,” she said, weakly, still recovering.

“You can make it up to me later,” he said, lightly patting her ass before pulling her skirt back in place.

“No, this can’t happen again,” she shook her head, turning to face him completely, one hand still resting on the shelf for balance. “This was a one–time thing.”

“Oh, so you’re willing to admit defeat so easily, huh? I guess Ardonians are better in every way,” he shrugged, resituating himself.

There he was again – Blaine was back to teasing, his automatic default.

She gritted her teeth, pushing his chest with a pointed finger. “You not finishing isn’t some kind of competitive edge over me –”

“It is, but continue.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. “I can’t with you. Bye.”

She pushed past him, heading back towards the tables to grab her stuff. Just as she slung her backpack over her shoulder, the door to the stairs creaked open, the librarian emerging.

“You’ll need to leave. We’re closing now.”

She nodded. “Have a great night.”

The air outside was warm, still, the last rays of sun long gone. The campus looked nearly abandoned, a few stragglers entering and exiting the residential buildings.

“Hey, Carina, wait – you forgot this –”

She turned, lips already curled in disgust. He really didn’t know when to stop.

“It’s your fancy fountain pen. Figured you needed it,” he said, tossing it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, reaching out to snatch it from his hand, but he pulled it out of her reach.

“Damn, someone’s annoyed. Turn around, I’ll put it in your backpack for you.”

“If it gets you away from me faster, sure.”

“Night, Carina. See you in class,” he grinned, giving her a solute before turning in the opposite direction.

Tatum approached her, brows furrowed. “You really shouldn’t be seen with him.”

“I know,” she sighed, tugging the straps of her bag tighter. She took off in front of him, briskly walking back towards her suite.

“Hey… stop walking for a second. I need to see something,” Tatum said, annoyance lacing his voice.

“Uh… alright,” she agreed, halting in place.

He closed the gap between them, standing right behind her. Her cheeks heated a bit, wondering if he sensed something off about her. His instincts couldn’t be that good, could they?

“What the –” he spat, the sound of light crinkling alerting her.

He circled her, holding something up. Her eyes widened when she realized what it was.

Blaine had slipped the condom wrapper into the clip of her pen before returning it.

Her hands balled into fists at her sides, wondering how the hell she got caught up with the son of her family’s nemeses, and why she loved the feeling of eating the forbidden fruit.

He was the flame, but she was the gasoline, for sure. She didn’t know how long she could fan the flame without being burned, but she found herself hoping for much, much longer.

––––

[ferret-not-microwave]

Les Amis Modern AU: What They Wish Others Believed About Them (Part 5)

[I kind of wrote this in response to some general trends in characterising the Amis. There are some stereotypes which I'm not quite comfortable with.]

[Hey, y'all! I'm so sorry for not posting this series for a long time, I was flattened for the past 12 days by COVID-19. We have Cosette and Marius today, and I'm so glad that I am feeling better enough to write about them. Cheerio!]

Cosette:

• Is fed up of being considered dainty, fragile, weak and excessively nice, a bit of a pushover. She is anything but. Living with crappy foster parents don't really let you do that. She can stand up against bullshit with biting sarcasm if necessary. It's just that Cosette doesn't rise to the bait very easily, because she has trained herself to ignore battles which don't need her attention. But that doesn't mean that she needs to be protected all the time.

• Is sick of having to relate her childhood traumas in order to not be judged as being a privileged airhead. Cosette likes buying nice things. She likes fashion, and she has some habits from Catholic school, still. She spends a lot of money on her friends and loved ones. She is sunshiney and injects bougie humour and fun into meetings. That doesn't mean that she knows nothing about the shitty world, and that she doesn't actively try to make ethical choices in her consumer behaviour and social commitments. She really dislikes the "Ohhhhh" moment coming from someone judging her for her privilege when someone tells her story to them. Why presume that people are shitty for no reason, damnit?

• Is sick of being mistaken as straight. On one memorable Pride, she was called "straight passing". She dislikes the term immensely. She thinks that people do not have the liberty to immediately assume that she is heterosexual because Marius is her partner. Similarly, people do not get to assume her sexuality because she presents stereotypically femme.

• She feels insecure and uncomfortable when people fix too much attention on her in relation to someone else, as if to scrutinize her. It happened twice amongst the Amis, once when Marius introduced her as his crush for the first time, and once when they came to know that she and Eponine knew each other since childhood, and that Eponine's parents were her abusive foster parents. She likes it better if she were befriended for being herself.

• She feels a little frustrated that people didn't get her conflicting feelings towards Eponine. People immediately assumed that she forgave and forgot everything Eponine had done or said when they were children, in her "characteristically sweet way". Actually, the first time she saw Eponine, her fear reared its ugly head again and she almost ran out of the Musain. There was much dancing around Eponine (who seemed worn out and super uncomfortable as well) and it is only with Marius and Courfeyrac's help that Cosette could start a conversion with Eponine. She did it not be particularly forgiving (though she eventually forgave her anyway), but because she needed to leave her emotional baggage behind and move on.

• A large part of Cosette's forgiveness towards Eponine was fuelled by the knowledge of Eponine's own abuse at her parents' hands. As someone who had faced quite a bit of the same abuse, she needed to put her foot down. Cosette was extremely angry about it, and her anger made sure that Eponine could separate from her parents faster, and eventually get custody of her siblings.

• She hates, hates, hates it when people remind her that she's lucky to get an adoptive father like Valjean particularly after she has a row with him. Just because her foster parents were shitty doesn't mean that she cannot speak against some of Valjeans imperfections! And children often disagree with their parents. She doesn't need to be dampened with the idea that she should basically think Valjean to be perfect because of her past. She is fiercely loyal to Valjean, and doesn't need anyone to test that.

• Cosette is protective of Marius. No one gets to mow Marius over with judgements and snide comments. In fact, Marius found himself being not so much the butt of jokes anymore after Cosette teaches him to stand up for himself. At the same time, Cosette does not helicopter parent Marius. She does tease him within limits, and does not usually interfere when he has disagreements with the Amis. It is a fine balance which does exhaust her sometimes.

• Cosette can be mischievous, even impish. She can land punches (whether they hurt or not doesn't matter), ace paintball/mudslinging matches, play the best pranks on April Fool's Day and curse like a sailor if needed. She is especially proud of the wide-eyed look she still gets from some of the Amis at her antics. She can also get people out of trouble faster than you can say "bail".

Marius:

• Marius feels scared of being judged. It is really, really difficult to understand your own privilege when you come from a super rich, super bigoted family (read grandfather). He has taken lots of embarrassing knocks and call-outs every day till now, but he is learning, and learning fast. The Amis know, and for them he isn't some peripheral person anymore, but an integral part. But sometimes he wakes up with nightmares of being kicked out as a wokeboi and a fraud by the whole group. He often stumbles over his words because he panics that maybe what he is trying to say is problematic. It takes him months to take any initiative in the Amis because he suffers from imposter syndrome all the time.

• Marius hid all information about his favourites (he loves strawberry rosé macarons and silver needle tea, for instance) because he thought that he would be judged as a rich brat. Funnily, it was Ferre who had figured these out and was the first Amis to give him a small tea chest and a box of macarons as a birthday gift (followed closely by Courf and Jehan with a huge birthday party). It took time for Marius to understand that just because he got a bit panned for his political opinions the first time, it doesn't mean that the Amis hate him.

• Quite unlike popular belief, Marius and Ferre do get along very well. They share a lot of niche interests (poring over etymology dictionaries and having a love of museums and trivia nights). They did discuss that first "to be free" moment, and Marius had placed his request to be given more chances to undo his problematic stances. (There was also another "to be free" moment that had left Ferre stunned, but it's a them thing). It hurts Marius when people immediately think that he's probably annoying Ferre when they hang out.

• Marius is not stupid. Please. The whole idea people have that he is stupid because of his awkwardness and shyness is plain mean at times. No, he doesn't need to be talked to slowly, like talking to a child. Whenever he has the courage, he brings up a lot of valid points in Musain meetings. He is extremely resourceful in handling money and talks with boring rich people, and fundraisers have never been better without him. He is juggling a double Masters degree with internships and volunteer services, and picks up languages at the drop of a hat (including Elvish).

• Marius has also had that dangerous phase when, in a bid to be as radical as possible, he fell into trouble way too many times. Even the most even-tempered of them all (read Jehan) has outright cried in exasperation on finding Marius glaring at a policeman in a protest, promising to burn the place down with a flare if they didn't back off from hitting protestors. Marius has similarly taken punches and hits, and there was a time when Joly would hover around him to administer first aid as quickly as possible. It took Enj and R a whole day to explain to him the merits of self-preservation and that revolution today does not necessarily involve a militant loss of life.

• Marius has also that phase when he drove a college sophomore to tears with his radical speech. Aka attacking the heck out of the kid's problematic Facebook post. Cosette had to give him a talk. Marius is learning about how to be a zealous but kind activist every day.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 13)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Billy Russo x Reader Word Count: 2663 Warnings: fluff, light angst, brief mention of smut

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: I’m still sorry... or am I? 😂

PART 12 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Sunlight filters in through the part of the window not blocked by opaque curtains, the golden glow reaches Billy’s eyes making him throw an arm up to block out the brightness. He’s careful of his movements, not to disturb you as you sleep against him.

He had a good time last night bowling and meeting all your friends but when you accepted his offer to come back to his place that was when the real fun began. In the comfort of his apartment you sat curled against him on his couch, feeling warmth spread through your body from the amber colored drink in your hand, though Billy was more intoxicating.

You quickly found your way into his bed, tangled together as your hands and lips explored every part of each other until you reached soaring heights of passion and pleasure. Billy was an incredible lover and you hadn’t thought that simply because he had broken your dry spell. He knew how to please and did so generously. You didn’t intend on staying over but truthfully your legs felt like jelly afterwards you couldn’t do anything but stay beside him, falling asleep in his arms.

Billy puts his arm down, shifting just a little so he could face away from the sunlight, the slight movement unintentionally waking you. He felt bad, watching as your heavy lids blinked themselves open a few times before they focused on his beautiful smile.

“Sorry, go back to sleep babe,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

A smile pulled at your lips as you felt the soft lingering touch of his lips. “S’okay, I want to stay awake.”

Billy smiled at the soft noises you made as you took in a stiff inhale of breath, your body tensing up as you turned away from him, bringing your hand to cover your mouth as you yawned. The feel of morning breath was heavy on your tongue so you decided to go to the bathroom, hoping there would be mouthwash you could freshen up with.

Goosebumps prickled at your skin when you pulled off the sheets, sitting up as you scanned the floor for your clothes that had been scattered around the room amidst the throes of passion. Billy’s eyes roamed your bare skin, memories of last night bring warmth to his body, feeling himself ache for you again the longer he stared.

You spotted your sweater, pushing yourself up from the low platform bed to grab the crumbled fabric from the floor, stretching it over your skin. Beside it was your pants though you picked up your lacy bottoms and stepped into them before leaving his room to find the bathroom.

Billy leaned back against the arm he folded under his head, not feeling like getting up to find his phone wherever he last left it. He didn’t need to distract himself anyway since you walked back in, slightly shivering as your bare feet walked along the cold floors.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling back the blanket.

As you began to get back in bed your movements were halted by “nuh uh” as Billy shook his head. “No clothes in bed, it’s the rules.” He smirked, sitting up towards the edge of the bed.

A giggle escaped your lips as you moved towards Billy’s side of the bed, standing in front of him. His hands went under your sweater, holding you firmly by your waist.

“Those are the rules, huh?” You repeated, grinning coyly as you let your hands glide up his arms, caressing his smooth skin until your fingers met a raised ridge along his left shoulder.

Your brows furrowed with concern as you stared at another scar on his chest, having missed both in the dimmed lighting last night. They were clearly old but by the way Billy’s jaw tensed you suspected they weren’t fully healed.

His dark gaze wandered as he focused on something behind you, his trance dissolving from the sound of your sweet voice saying his name.

“There was… this guy, Arthur. He volunteered at the Ray of Hope group home I was in. We all thought he was so cool, playin’ stickball and hoops with us. I was ten or eleven at the time.” Billy clenched his jaw, clearing his throat of the lump that formed there.

His hands dropped into his lap and he began wringing them. “When a grown man tells you that you’re pretty you know nothing good is coming. Let’s just say I wasn’t interested in the kind of games that he had in mind. I went after him with the stickball bat, caught him a few times before he broke my arm… ripped my rotator cuff in three places.”

You had been listening quietly as Billy spoke, not realizing you were holding your breath until his hand cupped your cheek and you let it out shakily. His story wasn’t new– no, unfortunately you had heard about this situation too many times but despite being familiar with this in your line of work Billy’s story really affected you.

No matter who the person or what their story is, you care deeply about all the cases you have from Metro-General but Billy was different. You really liked him and hearing him talk about the terrible memories from his past reminded you about Pietro and what could have happened if someone had been there to help. Growing up in the system is hard enough as it is, but if the caretakers aren’t doing their job to protect these children…

Sighing, your lips flattened into a line of frustration. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Billy.”

“Hey… don’t, okay?” His hands wrapped around your waist as he looked up to meet your sympathetic eyes. “Everyone’s got a story, this one’s mine.”

His lips stretched across his face into something that wasn’t quite a smile but not a frown either. You knew it wasn’t easy to share, something he clearly can’t forget though you appreciated his openness, feeling closer because of it.

Leaning down you cupped Billy’s cheeks, feeling his scruff scratch at your palms as you placed a gentle kiss to his lips. You felt him smile against you as he kissed back, his hands grabbing the hem of your sweater and breaking the kiss for him to pull it over your head.

Billy kissed your exposed skin, softly, slowly as he laid you down on the bed. His touch was like heaven, setting fire to your soul, and together you climbed higher and higher until you reached the apex of pleasure a few more times over.

You got home late in the afternoon knowing you had a novel’s worth of texts to return from your friends, mainly the girls wanting to know all the details. Bucky’s was the only text that you replied to right away. He hoped you would get home safe, and behind your shared wall he let out a sigh of relief, reading your message that you did, even if it meant you were only getting home now.

Bucky shuffled reluctantly to his door, wondering why there’s a knock. Looking through the peephole, he can’t help but let a smile stretch over his face.

“Hey neighbor!” you said, with a beaming smile.

He hadn’t seen you in a few days, throwing himself deep into his work, thankful for the distraction. “Hey Y/N.” Bucky takes note of what you’re wearing, a comfy hoodie and oversized polar bear pajama pants. You always had the cutest pajamas.

“You busy? I was gonna watch a movie and order a bunch of food since my period came and all I want to do is eat. Sorry was that TMI?” you asked, seeing his expression change in a multitude of ways.

He let out a slightly uncomfortable laugh. “Where’s Billy?”

“Working.”

Bucky wasn’t happy with that answer, making him feel like you were settling for plans with him since Billy was busy. He was about to decline, making up a lie about anything just so he didn’t have to feel bad about himself before you continued.

“But I’d rather hang with you anyway. Not that Billy would care about my period like that but, I don’t know, we’re not at that point yet, you know? Like I feel like I can always be myself around you.”

His blank expression turned into a smile as Bucky nodded his head. “Yeah, yeah I get that. I feel the same about you.”

Bucky felt a weird sensation in his stomach as he stood there smiling at you, breaking out of his trance as you spoke again.

“Okay so hurry up and come over. I don’t know what I want to eat. I kinda want tacos, but also pizza. And if you have cookies bring them over because I already ate the ones I had.”

It felt right, sitting beside you on the couch, stuffing your faces and laughing as you watched a movie. Bucky took it upon himself to grab the bottle of Advil from your bathroom, bringing over a full glass of water for you to take for your cramps.

“Thanks. You know, I know you hate relationships and stuff but you’d make a really good boyfriend.”

Bucky was frozen, the only sound he could hear was that of his heart drumming rapidly in his ear. “Y-you think so?” he croaked out, swallowing down the thick knot in his throat with a gulp of his drink.

You nodded, leaning forward to set the glass down on your table. “Why, you don’t?”

“No, that’s… That’s not it.” He turned away from you, silent and contemplative.

It wasn’t always like this. Bucky was a young boy that grew out of the idea that girls had cooties long before his friends did. It started with Olivia. They met in sixth grade, two nervous kids in a brand new school that happened to sit next to each other in homeroom.

Her eyes were like honey and Bucky was stuck, letting himself get lost in her beauty. He memorized the freckles speckled across the nose and cheeks of her sandy brown skin like a galaxy of stars, each one more dazzling than the last. Her hair was polished bronze packed in tight corkscrews that Bucky loved brushing aside so he could kiss her; every morning before they got to class, during lunch where he neglected his food in favor of her lips, and after school when they parted.

Bucky loved her as much as a young man could love a young woman, his first love, the girl he thought he would have everything with. He was a fool to think he could have it all, blinded by his utter devotion to Olivia before he realized his relationship was more one-sided than he realized.

They spent seven years together and not once did Olivia tell him she wasn’t planning their future the same way Bucky was. Olivia meant everything to him and when she was accepted to college on the West Coast Bucky immediately started looking into transferring to a school out there. It didn’t matter that their music program wasn’t as accredited, he was willing to do anything to make what he and Olivia had last.

What Bucky didn’t know was that Olivia didn’t feel the same. Not anymore. She fell out of love with him and was hoping to use graduation as a clean break. She broke his heart and Bucky was devastated.

He didn’t understand how she could stop loving him just like that. How it was so easy for her to let go of all their history; wondering what the turning point was in their relationship and why she didn’t tell him. His trust was broken. She strung him along for months, years maybe? It wasn’t just the fact that they broke up, she had moved on. Olivia was with someone new and every day Bucky asked himself why he wasn’t worthy of love.

He shut down, losing himself in composition, letting the melody of strife carry him through the sea of heartache. It was decided then, by a boy who was barely a man, to take what he needs and never be vulnerable again. It was easy.

It was easy.

Over the past few months everything has changed. There was a moment Bucky was ready to abandon his beliefs. He had grown up, matured; he knows his boundaries and knows there is so much more of himself to give to someone.

Bucky thought that someone could be you. It was a silly idea. You were just friends. But he was friends with Olivia first too. He felt the same ease as you did with him, enjoying spending time with you even if you did nothing. He thought there might have been a chance, somehow for him to break free of the mold he set upon his life and ask you out but someone beat him to it.

You and Billy had been seeing more and more of each other. He remembers that feeling from so long ago, desperate to spend every waking moment with the person that sent your heart a-flutter. Bucky understood when you cancelled plans with him, for the times Billy was able to make a last minute date after work arrangements changed. He understood, even if he didn’t like it. He couldn’t object even though he wanted to. You were happy and Bucky felt worse the more he thought about even thinking of taking that away from you.

He changed the subject, letting the movie resume but the thoughts never left his mind.

For the first time in a very long time Bucky is lonely. While the world is out overspending on chocolates and roses, fancy dinners and champagne Bucky lays in bed, trying to distract himself with a movie. He’s usually alone on Valentine’s Day, by choice. It’s too complicated to sleep with one of his regulars, not wanting to get their hopes up by any means on the day that celebrates love.

Bucky exhaled a heavy breath, upset with himself for being unable to keep his mind off everything. His heart is a dilapidated shack lost in a desolate wasteland. Abandoned after so many years, it’s dust covered, with a haze of cobwebs clouding over the part of himself that used to thrum with life.

And suddenly the walls become unsteady. His heart begins to crumble at the sound coming from the other side of the wall. It’s you, with unmistakable cries of pleasure, in a duet of passion with Billy.

Bucky shudders, feeling uncomfortable for being able to hear something that should be so intimate. It’s payback perhaps, a taste of his own medicine for all the times he’s disturbed you in the same way.

His mind runs wild against his will, imagining you in bed as the soundtrack of your lovemaking permeates the thin walls. It’s bittersweet poison to his ears.

Bucky throws the blankets off him, nearly tripping over the boots he haphazardly toed off earlier as he rushes towards his desk. He grabs his headphones to block out the sounds, a painful reminder of what could never be.

He grabs his phone, scrolling through his contact list. So many names and yet he feels nothing for them. He stops at your name, his chest hitching with agony. He wants what you have. To love fully, and give himself completely to someone. To renovate all the broken pieces inside of himself.

His fingers tap away and Bucky refuses to stop himself of their doing. He’s scared but excited, knowing the threat of getting hurt again is very real but he’s had enough of telling himself that the way he’s been living is what he’s really wanted.

With his own melodies playing in his ear Bucky is ignorant of the way you cry out Billy’s name. He is blissfully ignorant, opening the Tinder app he’s just downloaded, creating a profile because he’s finally ready to give dating a real shot.

PART 14

[remmushound]

Bay/rise 17! @errorfreak88 @brightlotusmoon

Cassandra forced Hueso down the streets of the Hidden City. Any yokai that dared get too close was met with Cassandra’s annoyed wrath and, if they were truly pressing their luck, a slash from her weapon. They passed through the same rift Cassandra had come in through, and came out through the statue on the other side.

“The human world?” Hueso asked curiously, looking around. “Though there doesn’t seem to be many humans here… wonder what happened.”

Cassandra growled and yanked Hueso’s arms as far back as they could go without snapping.“Stop talking.”

“Humans are social animals.” Hueso dared speak softly. The streets were remarkably empty... “You must be awful lonely with no one to talk to.”

“I said be quiet!” Cassandra jostled Hueso harshly.

“Is that why you need me? To bring them back?”

Cassandra growled and shoved Hueso to the ground as they arrived at their destination . The Yokai was silent a moment before he made an attempt to rise.

“Listen here.” Cassandra said finally, letting the skeleton sit up. “Some… friends of mine went through a portal right here and you’re gonna bring them back for me.”

Hueso considered. “What kind of portal?”


Cassandra blanked. “What?”

“What kind of portal? There are various types. Twelve of them to be exact.”

“I don’t know— a-a a blue one? Why does it matter!”

“Different portals have different rules. If you give me the weapon used to open the rift, I can do a ceremony to bring forth its history. Have you got the weapon?” He turned back to look at Cassandra.


“Well, no…” Cassandra tapped her fingers together a moment before snapping again, “But it shouldn’t matter! Big Mama said you knew about portals!”

“I do…” Hueso said slowly. The name of Big Mama brought images of gore and coliseums and cruelty toward yokai, mutant and human alike. “I can read the energies they leave and locate their espíritu—“

“You can’t open a rift?!” Cassandra practically spat in his face.

“Well— no. Not without a mystic weapon…” His eyes followed the frustrated stomping of Cassandra as she stormed off.

“STAY HERE! I'll be back…” 

~~~

The Shredder was waiting where Cass had left him, watching over Big Mama with cold, hollowed eyes. Cassandra touched her ring to announce her presence to the great monster and made him look up to acknowledge her.

Big Mama looked up weakly as well, her beak curling into a smile. “See? Didn't Big Mama tell you—“

“A lie.” Cassandra growled softly.

Big Mama’s eyes went to pinpricks. “What?”

“A LIE!” Cassandra repeated, charging Big Mama with a loud scream and slashing the yokai across the face with her Naginata. “You told me Señor Hueso could open a rift for me! You lied!”

“I did not lie— I— Big Mama told you—“

The Shredder pounced on Big Mama and dug his claws into the soft of her abdomen, making the Jorogumo’s words fade into agony as her wails echoed around the stadium.

“TELL! ME! THE! TRUTH!” Cassandra yelled, and through her anger she was starting to cry, “You have one more chance to tell me how to find where that rift went! ONE! MORE!”

“BARON DRAXUM!” Big Mama wailed, black oozing from her mouth and the punctures where The Shredder had brutalized her. “You-you’ve met him yes? If Hueso can tell him where to go, Draxum could open a rift anywhere! I… I promise…”

Cassandra brandished her blade and held it in front of the bigger of the spider’s many eyes. “You better be right about this.”

~~~~

Draxum didn't know how to feel. He wasn’t quite sad, but there was definitely something there. Something that made him feel almost hollow inside as he sat in the empty lair that his creations called home. They should have been back by now. Everything was awfully quiet. He could hear the faintest sounds of machines at work in the smart ones room, and he could hear the gurgle of water surrounding from every direction. The filthy, putrid sewer waste produced by the humans that Draxum still tried to hate. For the first few hours alone he had the TV on in the background so the silence wasn’t so silent, but it turned off by itself and Draxum for the life of him he wasn’t sure how to turn it back on. He hadn’t been listening to it, of course— human shows were of little entertainment to the Yokai. The droll in the background had helped to keep his thoughts from straying too far. But now there was nothing stopping them from flooding and blinding him with insecurity and anxiety and, overall, just a feeling of… well, nothing. There was nothing.

He stood up. His muscles still felt weak from his experience with The Shredder almost three months prior. His face was still sunken, his powers mediocre at best. He had to get stronger, and the constant care of Michelangelo could only carry him so close his ultimate goal. He couldn’t just sit there being miserable, feeling sorry for himself. He didn’t want to. Not when he had all the time in the world to train and an array of weapons at his disposal. His muscles needed to work, and he had the dojo to himself. There was only one sensible thing to do.

Of all the weapons available, he felt the tonfa suited him best. Strong and sturdy, built for both defense and offense and able to deal a significant amount of damage even with the slightest of blows. He took a set of them in his hands and gave an approving grunt at the weight. Then he stepped into the dojo, making sure to stretch a few times before he dared approach the first dummy he saw.

For several hours more, Baron Draxum was there training. He trained until four of the dummies lay broken and dejected in a pile and his hairless palms were slick with sweat. He dropped the duo weapons to the ground and ran his hands through his fur to try and cool himself while he trotted off to find a shower area.

Another hour passed. Baron sat once more on the couch with his mind aimless and surprisingly blank, wearing one of the robes that the big one had made just for him. He was tired, but his thoughts wouldn’t let him sleep. His creations still weren’t home. Something was wrong.

“Baron Draxum!” A loud voice disrupted the silence.

Baron groaned. Moments ago he had been begging for a break from the silence, but in just a few seconds he was begging for its return. Still, he stood to face the soldier he knew all too well.

“Cassandra.” He said as he approached the excitable youth, “Am I to assume you are the reason for my creation’s disappearance?”

Cassandra almost vibrated with excitement as she saluted the Baron, a wide smile splitting her face at the sight of her comrade.

“MASTER DRAXUM, SIR!” She shouted proudly, “I require your assistance with something, sir!”

Baron smiled. “Oh? Do go on.”

As Cassandra recounted her version of events, Baron listened intently. His ears flattened against the sides of his head as the story neared its end and, once it was finished, he was silent for the longest time.

“Master?” Cassandra asked softly, walking close enough to touch Baron if she wanted to. “Will you help me return our Foot Clan to its rightful power?”

Baron gave a long inhale and then exhaled sharply. “Yes, General. I will assist you in this endeavor. You know I hate the turtles as much as any.”

“Then… why are you in their house?” Cassandra scratched her head. 

“I think the better question would be how did you find me?”

Cassandra only stared.

Draxum sighed. “I was awaiting their return. I figured this would be as good a place as any to rendezvous after I got separated from them. I have been using their kindness to heal myself from our Great Master’s feeding off of me. Is there something wrong with that?” 

“Not at all, Master sir!” She saluted again.

“Great.” Baron smiled. “Then let us return to the Great Master. Together.”

~~~~

Baron and Hueso sat together with their eyes closed. Lit candles were scattered in a peculiar pattern around them. Hueso held with him artifacts from each of the turtles, retrieved from their home by Baron Draxum, humming softly and occasionally breaking his silent concentration with a muttering that neither Baron note Cassandra could quite hear. Cassandra sat back anxiously and tried her best to keep quiet despite the sharp impulses to talk stabbing her like a needle.

“I am seeing a place… not close.” Hueso said slowly. “A place separate from ours.” He gripped Leonardo’s stuffed unicorn securely, “It is there that Leonardo and Michelangelo exited the rift.”

“Go on!” Cassandra covered her mouth a moment too late. 

Hueso almost lost the vision, but a moment more of meditation brought it back.

“There is an Oni there. The Oni is an ancient one similar to the Oni who created your master. He is… furious. His rage burns like cold fire.”

Hueso grabbed Draxum’s hands and started to join their minds together.

“I see him.” Baron mused quietly, “He is…”

“Not from here.” Hueso finished. “He is Oni.”

Baron opened his red eyes quite suddenly and stood. Cassandra gasped and scrambled over to get a better view as Baron Draxum held his hand out to the dumpster in front of him. Two vines came from where his feet were rooted in the ground and slowly, agonizingly, they formed into a doorway. Once the vines stopped their slow, snake-like joining that brought the frame of the door together, they spiraled down and made a strange Kanji. The Kanji for demon. Oni.

The doorway exploded into a bright pink. Like a vortex, started to draw everything into it— scraps of loose trash, water from grimy puddles, loose stones from the asphalt. Anything in its path that was light enough. Hueso’s eyes slot open and he clung desperately to a dumpster to avoid being sucked in, grimacing as the dumpster started to be dragged toward the rift as well. Baron simply dug his hooves more securely into the stone while Cassandra clung to his arm with that excitable smile she often had.

“YES!” Casey screamed, bouncing in place while looking quickly between Baron and the rift.

“Por Dios it worked…” Hueso gawked.

“Yes.” Baron made a fist, the heat of the portal starting to seep into his very being and fill him with the taste of the power he had lost months ago. The sensation was fleeting, like a wind whistling through his mane on a hot summers day, or like the faintest scent that would remind one of their childhood. It was good. It was… perfect.

[thepartyresponsible]

another soundtrack fill! this is for the anon who asked for  bucky barnes/jason todd and “vengeance” by neoni, which i had never heard before, but which is definitely a “killing monsters with giant robots” song.

so here’s a pacific rim au. the only surprise here is that it’s taken me so long to write one.

                                                        ---

Echo Lazarus and Bullseye Lucky throw Scorpio back into the Pacific, but the Kaiju’s barbed stinger rips a hole clear through Laz’s chestplate first. Twenty seconds later, Lucky executes it with a shot through a weak point in its cranial bones. Jason would take that less personally if the damage had been on his side of Laz, instead of Frank’s. Probably.

“Fucking assholes,” he says, fighting free of the harness, elbowing his way out of the Conn-Pod. “Kill-stealing chucklefucks,” he continues, right over the top of Frank’s half-assed attempts to calm him down. “I’m sick of this shit, Castle.”

“I’m fine,” Frank says. There’s a bit of blood on his mouth, but it’s from smashing his lip against his helmet, not from neural overload or internal bleeding. When he wipes it away, no more leaks out to replace it. “Nice of you to check in.”

“I know you’re fine, Castle,” Jason says, ignoring the still-panicked thudding of his heart. “Fuck off.”

He stomps his way free of Lazarus and shoulder-checks Frank seconds later, relieved by the solid warmth of him. Relieved, also, by the exasperation in Frank’s face as he shoves Jason out of his personal space.

“I’m fine,” Frank says. And then, a beat later, a bit more intent: “Jason. I’m fine.”

“I know,” Jason says. Because he does. His brain was Frank’s brain was their brain when the hit landed. The fear that flooded them was Jason’s, not Frank’s.

Frank’s not scared of dying. Jason’s not that nervous about it, either. But being linked while the other dies? Feeling Frank fade away like water down a drain?

Yeah, sure. That scares the hell out of him.

“Jason,” Frank says, looking at him, sidelong and flat. Outside of the Drift, he never seems to know what to say.

“You’re fine,” Jason repeats, sullenly, dutifully. “I know that. I do. I told you.”

He flattens himself obligingly against the hallway wall, lets the techs swarm past him to get to Echo Lazarus. None of them even make eye-contact, and Jason knows what that means. Their Jaeger will need extensive repairs. They’ll be out for a week or two, minimum, and they won’t even get a recorded kill out of this little shitshow.

Bullseye Lucky will get the kill. Again.

“If I break their knees,” Jason says, as the crew of techs scuttles between them, “they’ll stop stealing our fucking kills.”

Frank rolls his eyes. When they’re in their own brains, he likes to pretend he’s indifferent to this whole business. But Jason’s been in his thoughts. He knows how Frank feels about the Kaiju. He lost his whole family to these ocean-borne bastards, his wife and his little girl, his son. He likes the kill just as much as Jason does.

It’s a balm. A comedown. It’s a moment of catharsis they both need more than they want to acknowledge, and Lucky has stolen three of their last four, and Jason’s losing his mind about it, a little.

“If you cause a big scene about this,” Frank says, “I will not have your back when Barnes knocks you on your ass.”

Jason scoffs. Audibly. And then, just to be sure Frank hears him, he does it again, louder, with more emphasis in his jaw and shoulders. “Fuck you, Castle,” he says. “You’re gonna have my back forever.”

Frank rolls his eyes again. He doesn’t argue.

Forever means for as long as he can. Forever means today and, if they’re lucky, tomorrow. And they have tomorrow because Jason flinched when he saw the hit coming, because he threw everything he had into moving, directing that hit anywhere that wasn’t right at Frank.

They have tomorrow because Clint Barton and Bucky Barnes shot Scorpio through the skull, and so now Jason will never know if he and Frank could’ve saved themselves. He can’t come down, can’t feel safe.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Jason says.

   Barton and Barnes aren’t generally known for partying, but a beer or two seems to knock the taste of Kaiju ichor out of their mouths. Jason finds Clint tucked away at the little on-base bar, which exists primarily to stop Rangers from going out among the civilian populace and regaling them with the most recent stories of how close they all came to absolute annihilation.

“Hey, shithead,” he says, as he slides up next to Barton at the bar, “quick question: are you at least getting off on giving me blue balls? Because someone should be getting off. And it’s damn sure not me.”

“Christ,” Frank says, with a heavy sigh. He elbows up between them and directs bleak, beseeching eyes toward the watchful bartender. “Help me.”

“Sure,” the bartender says. “Is that a single or a double?”

“Please, yeah, tell me all about your balls, Todd,” Clint mutters, in a tone just as deeply skeptical as Frank’s. “They definitely don’t feature in my brain enough.”

“A double,” the bartender says, with a decisive nod. “Sure.” He starts pouring. Frank grunts what would probably be a thank you, if he took his head out of his hands.

“What the fuck does that mean, Barton?” Jason says, leaning half over Frank’s shoulders to see him. “Are you daydreaming about my balls? Because I’ll give you a free sample if you stop sniping my fucking kills.”

Clint swivels his head to stare at the side of Frank’s. “Can you,” he says, low and deeply felt, “believe this shit?”

“Absolutely,” Frank says, as he takes a hearty swig of whiskey. “Believe it? Yes. Hate every minute of it? Also yes.”

“Can I tell him?” Clint asks. “Can I just--”

“Hey,” Jason says, because he’s finally caught sight of Barnes, skulking in the shadowy back of the bar. Barnes is like that. Jason’s noticed. It can be full summery sunshine, and Barnes will find a way to be evasive and out of sight. Jason always manages to catch sight of him anyway, though. He’s not hyperaware of the guy. It’s just basic situational awareness. “Hey, asshole.”

“Thank God,” Clint says, and Frank taps his tumbler against the side of Clint’s glass in a show of solidarity that Jason finds both deeply disloyal and completely unacceptable. He steals their drinks as recompense and then stalks across the bar.

Bucky looks up at Jason gets closer. His hair is too long again, still wet from his post-fight shower, falling across his face and curling, a little, at the ends. His eyes are bright blue and narrowed, wary like a stray cat. He’s wearing a PPDC t-shirt and old jeans. He looks ridiculous. He’s an asshole.

Because Barton will come through when you need him, but he’s not the mother hen on the team. Lucky’s been stealing kills because Bucky Barnes can’t keep his hands off the trigger.

“That for me?” Bucky asks, pointing at the whiskey in Jason’s hand.

“No,” Jason says, and he takes a quick sip to establish ownership. It’s smoky as hell, because Frank likes that kind of old man garbage, but Jason drinks it anyway.

Bucky points at Clint’s drink. “So the beer’s for me?”

“The beer is also mine,” Jason says. He downs a bit of that, too. “Why the hell would I be bringing you a drink?”

“Gratitude?” Bucky says, eyebrow cocked. “For saving your ass?”

“My ass was never in danger,” Jason says. “Fuck you for worrying about my ass.”

“I don’t know if you’ve seen your ass,” Bucky says, “but it’s really difficult to--”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Jason puts the glasses down on the table. “We’re gonna skip straight to the part where we fight?”

Bucky steals Frank’s stolen whiskey. “You brought me a drink. I figured ass talk was allowed.”

Jason’s jaw drops. He rescues the beer before it falls victim to similar machinations. “Sure,” he says. “Sure, Barnes. We can talk about asses. We can talk about how I’m gonna kick yours all the way to--”

“Jason,” Bucky says. He leans forward, elbow on the table, and he looks good, when he comes out of the shadows like that. The light does nice things for his cheekbones, for his eyes, for the sharp line of his jaw and the soft curl of his smirking mouth. “Is that really what you want to do with my ass?”

Jason swallows. He takes a long, fortifying drink of the beer in his hand. He’s been learning about these kind of tactics from Frank. Stalling, Frank tells him. Tactical misdirection.

But he’s just a kid from Gotham, and he plays by Gotham rules. The Joker’s always wild, the stakes are always high, and you call every bluff you find, because you’ve always got less to lose.

He sets the glass on the table. It’s empty, anyway. He’s great at tactical stalling. A Goddamn natural.

“I dunno, Barnes. Do you have any suggestions of something else I could do with your ass?”

   Hours later, Barnes still isn’t out of ideas, but they’re catching their breath through another round of tactical stalling. “Jesus,” Jason says. “Did you see those shitheads high-fiving when we left? Frank won’t even let me high-five him.”

“He and Clint have a history,” Bucky says. Which Jason knows, thank you. He’s seen plenty of Barton in the Drift. “Anyway, Clint’s been bitching at me about you for months.”

Jason furrows his brow and looks over at him. The sheets are bunched up at mid-thigh. Bucky doesn’t look any less beautiful than he did when he shoved Jason backwards onto this bed, but he at least has the decency to look winded and considerably mussed.

“Months,” he repeats, trying to infuse the word with all the dubiousness a single syllable can hold. “What the hell do you mean, months?”

The look Bucky gives him indicates that maybe he’s not interested in Jason for his brain. In fact, it seems to suggest that he doubts Jason has one. “Oh, fuck you,” he says. “What? You want me to say it?”

Jason doesn’t know what the hell Bucky is or isn’t saying. When they left the bar, he figured they were going to work out their shared aggression in a way that wouldn’t get either one of them demoted or transferred. He’d held onto that assumption until Bucky started treating him like he was something worth putting effort into, and he’d been too busy after that to do any complicated reanalysis.

“Yeah,” he says. “I want you to say it.”

Bucky makes a face at him, a sideways smush of his mouth and a long look up through his ludicrous eyelashes. He reaches up to touch the side of Jason’s face, fingertips gentle as they run across the freshly bruised skin, the only sign on Jason’s body that he almost died today.

If Bucky had touched him like that four hours ago, Jason would’ve slapped his hand away and told him to go to hell.

Right now, he wants to lean into it. He holds himself still.

“I’m not stealing your kills on purpose,” Bucky tells him, gaze dropping from the bruise on Jason’s hairline to look him straight in the eyes, pinning him to the bed. “I just hate it when you get hurt.”

Jason swallows. He tips his head into Bucky’s hand, and Bucky leans in and kisses him like he can’t help himself.

“You’re still a kill-stealing piece of shit, Barnes,” Jason says, mouth an inch from Bucky’s, staring up into the bright blue of his stardust eyes.

Bucky looks down at him for a moment, mouth caught between a smirk and a smile. “Uh-huh,” he says. He kisses him again, on his cheek, on his jaw, in a line down his throat to his chest. “Let me make it up to you.”

[wyvern-tales]

I don’t wanna fall asleep, because I have so much to say

Warnings: Fear (lots of it), descriptions of violence, humans being jerks, swearing, main character being a jerk sometimez

Word count: 24,256

Summary: Zelu didn’t like humans. They were basically fairytale monsters, but real, and somehow 10x worse. Everyone knew to avoid them. That was just common sense. Avoid humans, avoid human inventions, avoid everything related to the surface world. Simple as that. 

So then how the hell did he end up in this crab trap?

Prompt: A human finds a tiny merfolk stuck/passed out/hurt on the beach, they decide to take it home

Author’s Note: Heyyyy so this is the first time I've actually written G/t before, and the first time I've completed a story, so I really hope you enjoy it! Spent a good chunk of my time making this!

Tagging @secret-shifters for the event and @just-some-gt-trash for the gift! Hope you like it!

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the ocean, there are rules.

 Every Merfolk in every water of the world knows them. Five simple rules, made for everyone, regardless of culture or ability. Merfolk are expected to follow these rules like their land cousins, the Borrowers, and their code. The Rules are actually really similar to the Borrower Code, with a few obvious exceptions. Merfolk weren't Borrowers, not even that close. Borrowers looked like humans, but small. Merfolk sort of looked like humans, but more resembled the fish they swam with in more ways than one, size included.

The Rules went like this:

-One: Never speak, approach, or interact with humans. They are hunters and slavers, they take and never give back.

-Two: Avoid all human traps, inventions, and contraptions. Nothing good will ever come of this, no matter how intriguing they seem.

-Three: Should you find a captured being, Merfolk or not, don't help them. The risk is too great and you will most likely end up captured along with them.

-Four: Where the sea meets the land, never surface, no matter the time or place. Humans live on every spot of dry land, no coast is safe.

-And Five: Should you be spotted, do not attempt to fight. Always hide or swim as deep as you can go.

  Every child is taught these rules once they reach seven hundred sun-cycles (around two years, if talking in the newer dialect), the first two especially. They are responsible for the safety and survival of the Merfolk species, after all. From the great Whales and Sharks to the elusive Anglers of the deep sea, the rules have protected the ocean from human meddling for generations. Even the terrifying sirens and shifters, beings from the more magical side of Merkind obey at least two or three.

  Zelu's mother, like most other mothers in the sea, made sure the rules were drilled into her children. Threats of evil humans with their nets and fish-hooks hung over their heads, keeping the young pups from ever leaving their cave at night. Tales of the giants beasts and their crimes were told to wide eyes and shivering tails. Humans were always brought up in lectures whenever a child was caught doing wrong, sort of like a mythical monster of legend, only this monster was real.

 "Swim too far out and a human will catch you!"

 "Put that hook down before it's owner comes looking for it!"

 "I hear humans look for naughty pups to sell. Shark pups are worth lots of land money on the surface!"

 "Say that one more time and I'll throw you ashore to the humans!"

 "Do you want to become human food?"

 "Never go out at night, or else the land-walkers will come roaring with their boats to find you."

 "Behave or you'll end up like your Uncle Tarren. Don't want to end up dried up and put on display, do you?"

  Zelu's mother meant well, she just wasn't the best at expressing it.

 The nursery knew her as the strictest shark in the Atlantic. Her real name was Lain, eldest of an old family of twelve siblings, but that didn't stop the other children from coming up with all sorts of nicknames.

 The old Mershark knew her children would have to leave the seaweed beds and go off on their own someday, even if dogfish grew slower than the other neighboring sharks. She knew she held the smallest family in the beds, with only three small pups compared to the usual five or six. The fact that two of them kept getting into trouble and starting fights with the other families, while the third refused to talk to anyone who wasn't directly related, didn't help at all.

 Zelu's mother didn't really need a sitter or bedkeeper (young dogfish pups usually did fine alone) but Lain had to hire one anyway. Her children didn't meet the number requirement, but apparently in terms of behavior, she needed an extra set of hands and eyes to 'keep them under control'. So she found a kind young Mershark from the Lemon clan, who went by the name of Kepsy.

 Kepsy watched over the pups while Lain was out hunting or running errands. Zelu and his siblings liked her well enough, she treated them like friends rather than stupid babies (like most bedkeepers) and wasn't too strict when it came to Lain's personal rules. But both she and their mother shared one annoying quirk.

  Kepsy could recite the Rules by heart, and clearly wanted the pups to do so as well. Every morning Lain wasn't around, the bedkeeper had them list the first three once before breakfast and once before bed. Zelu and his little sister Mala hated that part of Kepsy's routine, but the oldest, Cain, didn't seem to mind.

 Cain wasn't much of a speaker. He did things without words or explanation, usually communicating with body language and simple eye movements. He only talked to his family and nobody else, the only exception being Kepsy, and even then she usually just got a few one-word sentences. The other pups in the seaweed beds thought Cain was mute. Zelu's family knew better. He and Mala could tell just what he wanted without him ever opening his mouth. Quiet, cryptic, and observant, that was Cain.

 Once, Zelu asked why he was so dedicated to the Rules. Cain just flattened his fins and pointed out the rip in Kepsy's fin. He made sure Zelu was looking at it, before turning his claw to the long scar that curved from the corner of the sitter's mouth. He did this every time, always the same answer.

 Cain never had to elaborate. Everyone knew what had caused those scars.

  So Zelu knew exactly why the Rules meant so much to everyone. But if he's being completely honest, did it really have to go that far? His siblings didn't have to worry about humans until Lain passed on, when they'd be forced out to make their place in the ocean. Mala could probably take on every fish in the sea and come out on top. Their neighbor, Jessin, always went on about how Cain didn't need to fight anyone to win during combat training. Said he had a 'gift', whatever that meant (Zelu didn't understand it, but he knew better than to press, since Lain got annoyed when it was brought up).

 Zelu, well, he could handle himself just fine, thank you very much. Kepsy said he was always reckless, but everyone knew he was the fastest swimmer and had the ability to use his natural defenses offensively. That was something most Dogfish Mersharks couldn't master. Dogfish spines were meant to be used as a shield rather than a sword, but Zelu's shield held iron barbs and serrated edges. He rivaled Mala in terms of agility and speed, if he did say so himself, and could out-maneuver the fastest sharks in the beds, fitting into places most wouldn't be able to.

 Point is, Zelu could take care of himself. He knew that. The Rules kept Merfolk alive, yes, but did they have to be followed so strictly? There was no room for adventure anywhere. Who cares if he bent them a few times?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Famous last words.

 A small part of Zelu's brain knew he shouldn't have wandered too far from the seaweed nursery, away from the safety of his cave and siblings, just four sun-cycles after his birthnight.

 It knew he should have listened to Mala and Cain's calls for his return, rather than ignore them in favor of possible adventure, leaving while Miss Kepsy's back was turned.

 It knew he shouldn't have gone and explored the brackish beaches and muddy sandbars of the coast, not particularly enjoying the sickly sweet feel of fresh water mixed with salt running over his gills.

 It knew he shouldn't have swam closer to the crab traps that littered the barren sea floor, intrigued by the shiny tags and ropes that attached them to the surface world.

 It knew he shouldn't have tried to help the young Mercrab trapped inside. It knew he should have ignored her barely-masked pleas for rescue.

 That part of his mind knew he shouldn't have trusted her. It knew this, yet the rest of him still went to help, the majority ruling out logic. Zelu'd be lying if he didn't kind of expect her to shove him in to take her place, but the urge to assist a fellow Merfolk overpowered his caution. And after all that, here he was, that small part of his brain shaking its head in clear disappointment.

 The Mercrab grinned evilly at him from her perch on the trap ceiling. Zelu snarled at her, tail lashing in both anger and terror.

"This is your fault, you know." She said, clacking her armored fingers mockingly. "The rules forbid helping trapped Merfolk. But I expect nothing less from a brainless shark pup."

 She spat out the word 'shark' like it was something gross, scrunching up her face at the 'k'. Zelu said nothing. He simply bared his teeth, specially made for crushing and tearing at the shells of crabs and lobster. The Mercrab flinched away. She knew that when he gets older, they'll sharpen, ready to take on jellies, sport fish, and even bigger crustaceans, including Mercrabs.

 If he gets older. That was a huge if and both parties knew it.

"I just wanted to help you," He growled, thrashing his tail against the bars. "Is that really bad? Or do you bottom feeders not understand emotions?"

"My my, so touchy. I wouldn't be that rude to the humans if I were you," The crab pointed up to the rope. "They wait exactly one cycle before pulling up these cages. I'd say you have…."

 She raised a hand to test the currents, loudly tapping the metal wiring with a clawed foot. Zelu winced back with each reverberation, hissing as his fins flattened against his head.

"....thirty minutes left. They always come back when the water picks up. Gosh, I really must be going then."

 Thirty minutes? THIRTY MINUTES? When the water picks up? That....that's almost no time at all!

"W-wait a second! Let me out!" The Mershark suddenly cried, original panic pushing aside his anger. He gripped the twisted wire of his prison so hard, his soft skin threatened to break under pressure. "Y-you don't have to leave me here! I helped you!"

"And let you get revenge? Not a chance. I made my choice. You were dumb enough to break the rules, so just face the consequences." The Mercrab grinned wider at him, climbing off the trap and turning to leave. "Did you forget crabs and dogfish are enemies? I'd say this was stupid, even for you."

"B-but….I saved you! I-I rescued you! You should be thanking me!" He pleaded. "I-I didn't do anything to you! I'm just a pup!"

The Mercrab just shrugged. "Sorry. That's just how things work. Don't want another shark to grow old, do I? The less predators, the better."

 With an enraged yell, Zelu bashed his body against the cage and lunged, shoving his arms through the bars to slash at her with venomous claws.

 "YOU DIRTY-" He cut himself off with a snarl, gnawing on the bars that held him back. "I'LL- I'LL RIP YOUR LEGS OFF AND BEAT YOU TO DEATH WITH YOUR OWN LIMBS!! LET ME OUT, DAMMIT!"

 The crab trap rocked violently, kicking up clouds of sand and muck in the Mercrab's face. Some of the other normal crabs were knocked into him, but he didn't care. He gnashed his teeth and flared his fins, as threatening as a ten-year-old shark pup could possibly be. His attacks missed by a hair, but his show of aggression seemed to work, making her back away.

"...Fine. Be mad. Won't help anything. Enjoy your doomed life, little dogfish." She shot him one last (albeit slightly irritated) smirk, before scuttling off to whatever whale carcass she crawled from.

 "GET BACK HERE!" He screamed after her. "GET BACK HERE YOU COWARD!"

  After about two whole minutes of shouting and fighting, Zelu's arms fell limp against the bars as he watched the Mercrab's shell vanish over the ocean dunes, rage settling like the seabed around him. His fins drooped, his spines flattened back into a neutral position, and his grey tail limply dragged against the uneven floor. Panting, the Mershark retracted his limbs and slowly sunk to the bottom of the trap, fingers still gripping the wired bars. Zelu let his forehead hit the wall with a depressing thunk.

  He felt crushed. He felt angry. He felt stupid. He felt, well, he felt humiliated. Mercrabs didn't pride themselves on their manipulation skills, no, they were more famous for being shellheads. Mercrabs weren't smart, they were tough and hard, no room for critical thinking anywhere. So for a shark, one of the strongest and most self-respecting Merfolk in the seas, to be tricked by one? The whole situation felt way more than humiliating, above all else.

 Mala and Cain were right. He never should have explored beyond the seaweed beds. He never should have gone chasing after adventure at such a young age, it had only brought him sorrow. Just like Lain said.

"..bloody traitor…." Zelu muttered to himself, turning his head slightly to shoot a look at his unwitting roommates. "....not you guys though. You seem fine."

 The trapped crabs simply gazed at him and clacked their claws, not a coherent thought crossing their minds.

  Zelu crossed his arms and swiveled to lean against the wall, the back of his head resting against the wire mesh. He looked up at the surface with a bubbly sigh. "Stupid shell-back…who does she think she is, ranting about me breaking the rules..."

 He didn't really know who he was talking to, but whatever. The crabs seemed to be listening a little. One of them, a large blue-shell with the biggest claws of the bunch, reminded Zelu of Cain, just a little. It was the quietest of the bunch. Zelu gave it an upward nod. The crab merely blinked at him, not moving from its stance. The Mershark huffed and turned away. Something about having a crab staring at him felt creepy.

 The crab trap felt far too small. The Mershark shuddered. There were only three normal crabs in with him, and they didn't do anything other than stare off into space, display their claws at each other, or stuff their faces with bait. They kept their distance though, which was a plus. Zelu considered eating one of the crabs, but decided he wasn't hungry. Probably for the best. Who knows how old that mystery meat called 'bait' was.

'Maybe Kepsy will come looking for me. It's way past noon, so Lain should be home by now. She'd break a few rules just to help, right?' Zelu thought, watching the sun rays beam through the water. '….Who am I kidding. Rule breaking is the last thing she'll do.'

 Zelu's mind brought up the faces of his siblings. He considered calling out and making tons of noise, off the slight chance one of them heard his pleas. He wasn't that far away from the seaweed beds. Maybe they'd hear him, if he put in enough effort!

 The Mershark instantly swam up and gripped some loose-ish wire. The crabs stumbled back at the sudden movement. He filled his gills with as much water as possible, ready to scream and rattle until his throat burned and his gills grew weary-

 When a long, dark shadow passed overhead, engulfing the crab trap in murky darkness. Zelu shut his mouth with a click, the air in his gills escaping in a stream of tiny bubbles. His hands felt glued to the thin wire, cutting into his palms from the sheer force he gripped it with. All will to speak died in his throat.

A Crocodile?

Here?

In Gator country?

  How the heck did it get so far from shore? They were notoriously reclusive and never ventured far from home, so seeing one out here in the crab beds made almost no sense at all.

 The croc drifted along, heavy tail swishing from side to side as it lazily circled overhead. It poked its head underwater, long toothy snout sweeping aside murk as it scanned the ocean floor. Sharp reptilian eyes went over Zelu's cage twice, sending claws of ice down his spine.

 Crocodiles didn't usually go after crab traps, right..?

  Eventually, it's gaze stopped on another separate trap, and the massive reptile dived down in an explosion of bubbles, tail pumping to build up speed. It seized the trap in those mighty jaws faster than Zelu could blink, crushing through the thin wire bars without trouble and stirring up a cloud of silt, before swimming back to the surface with its prize. The trap had been reduced to a flattened mess of wires and shells in almost no time at all.

A cracked crab shell drifted past Zelu, spiraling down into the sand.

His eyes followed it.

That had to be a clear warning from the universe. Zelu decided that maybe calling out was a bad idea.

  So instead, he hunkered down in one spot to wait until something happened.

 Occasionally, another crab would wander in to join him. Each time Zelu tried to scare it off, hissing (quietly) and flashing his claws and teeth. And each time, it ignored him in favor of free food. Zelu cursed himself, folding himself back up in the corner as yet another stupid crustacean tumbled in. The empty space shrank with each new addition and he hated it. Sure, he was bigger than them, but not by much.

Thirty minutes, huh?

 Probably more like ten now. There was nothing Zelu could really do at this point other than try to fall asleep, or stay awake until either the crocodile returned for another snack, or the humans came to retrieve their trap. It had been designed to let plenty of crabs in, but none out, creatures like Zelu included. Just by sight alone, he knew escape was pretty much impossible.

 Yes, all the Mershark could do was wait. So he adjusted his tail, laid his head down on the stiff metal floor, and prayed to the Great Megalo for a somewhat peaceful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Zelu awoke to the sound of frantic rattling and squeaking. He ignored it at first, keeping his eyes firmly pressed shut, but then the ground seemed to jerk upward. He bounced up from his coiled position, spines flared and eyes wild. Did the croc find his prison? Was another Merfolk trying to break in? Did the humans return? Was someone trying to help him out?

 The cage jumped again, but didn't float back down this time. Zelu looked up at the ceiling, where the once lax rope now stood taut and firm, and then down at the rapidly shrinking seabed. Well, at least he got one out of four guesses.

 The crab trap jerkily burst from the surface and Zelu instinctively tried to dive back down. The bars stopped him though, and he was forced to watch the distance between him and the cool, comforting sea grow with each tug of the rope. The crabs scurried about like panicked minnows, occasionally running over Zelu's tail with their sharp feet.

 "C'mon Dale, get those traps up already! We left 'em out long enough!" A booming voice shouted from above, making Zelu's heart jump into his throat.

 "I am pulling them up! Gimmie a minute, this one's heavier than the last one!" A second, even louder voice shouted back. "I think we got a good haul today, eh?"

 The trap lurched upward, swinging dizzily from side to side as the outline of a massive, burly figure in a brown coat heaved it from the water. Zelu caught sight of a strange white contraption, sleek and intimidating. Like the skeleton of a whale, only more smooth and pointy. Kepsy talked about humans having things called 'boats' to travel over water. This, Zelu decided, had to be one.

 At first, he felt pretty excited. He'd never seen a human boat before. But then the humans driving it yelled to each other again, and he was suddenly reminded why this boat was there in the first place.

The crab trap bumped against the hull, prompting a squeak of terror from Zelu, who very quickly clapped his hands over his mouth. Pulled over the side rather jarringly, the Mershark watched as the human seized the trap's roof with a massive gloved hand, pulled open a hidden door Zelu never knew existed, and promptly emptied it into a grimy bucket without a second glance.

  Zelu tumbled out headfirst, landing among a squirming heap of even more crabs, who didn't really look as terrified as he did. How they could be less than mildly irritated about this was beyond him. The bucket felt bigger than the maw of a Megamouth, hard and spiky with a floor that moved and shifted, and massive white walls slicked with seawater.

 "How many d'you reckon we got today? Fifteen?" The burly human said to its companion.

 Trembling, the Mershark looked up as the second gigantic shadow of the day fell over his newfound prison. A face big enough to blot out the sun stared at him, looming over it's catch with mild interest. The light behind it blurred most of the human's features, but he caught a scruffy-looking beard and squared glasses, which the giant raised to its forehead.

 "Well I'll be…" The human murmured, sharp, chocolate eyes widening in apparent shock. "Ain't you the strangest little thing..."

 Zelu gave a strangled hiss in response, flashing his ear and elbow spines threateningly. The beastly thing didn't even flinch. In fact, it actually chuckled.

"Feisty too! Oi Redmond, getcher lazy arse over here!" The human called, beckoning for it's companion with the massive sweep of an arm. "We got ourselves a weird lil stowaway!"

 Zelu flinched at the sudden movement, biting back gasps as his gills struggled to reap oxygen from the air. It wasn't immediately life-threatening, but he needed to get back to water. His gills could only absorb so much water from the humidity. He had about thirty minutes tops before he started to actually suffocate.

 The human leaned in toward the bucket flashing flat white teeth, each one bigger than the Mershark's hand. It could very easily bite him in half, like he was nothing more than a twig instead of a living creature that should be feared. Zelu cowered away, curling his tail inward, trying to keep his body as low, small and spiky as he could get. The crabs below didn't help, constantly shifting and clacking against one another, occasionally pushing him closer to the giant above. He bit back a pained yelp as one managed to clamp down on his tail fin.

"What's it this time? You pick up some shiny junk again?" A second voice practically shrieked from far off to his right. Zelu grimaced, ears flattening against his head at the noise. "I'm telling you, I won't make any more stops at the pawn shop."

 Another sunfish-sized head came into view, this time with a clean face and soggy red hair pulled back in a ponytail. A second pair of hollow eyes, this time seaweed green, stared right through him. One giant was more than enough, but two? The Mershark swallowed the sobs that threatened to creep up his throat. He could practically feel his chances of escape swirl down the drain with each passing minute. They could do whatever they wanted and receive little resistance. Not even Mala could fight out of this one.

"...good lord." The new human breathed, leaning in far too close for Zelu's comfort. He dared a swipe at its nose, but the human pulled back before he could make contact. They both snickered in amusement.

"Ain't it cool?" The bearded one said happily. "Crabs be damned, I call first dibs!"

"D-Dale hold on, we don't have any idea what this thing is! You can't just call dibs on it!" Ponytail replied, looking up at the other. "It could be venomous or something! Look at those spikes!"

"Venomous-Shmenomous, I think it's cool as hell!" Beard crossed it's arms with a pout, which quickly turned to vicious glee. "Where d'you think it came from, eh? New discovery?"

 Zelu pressed his webbed hands to ears in a feeble attempt to block out all the chatter. His captors' booming voices just blended together into one loud roar. His hears rang painfully, each massive sound clanging off the bucket walls like an energized ping-pong ball. As much as it hurt, he had to focus. Find an escape.

  His tail-fin twitched from side to side anxiously as the Mershark scanned the walls of the bucket, searching for anything that would aid his escape. A crack, a small hole, hell even a piece of stray seaweed would do. The crabs around him piled on top of each other, trying to escape with no sense of teamwork. One would almost make it out, only for another to seize it by the leg and drag them both back down, rinse and repeat. Stupid dull creatures. Perhaps he could use them to climb out? While the human's backs were turned?

"I'm sure it ain't venomous, Red. Watch this!"

 Something above him moved, and Zelu looked up to see a massive hand reaching down into the grimy bucket. He shrieked in terror, twisting out of the way just in time for the hand to close around a crab instead, which promptly nipped at fingers almost as long as his tail. The owner swore loudly, waving its hand to shake off the little crustacean. It's companion laughed.

"No offense, but watching you get bit by crabs isn't that impressive."

"Ha, ha." The human said sarcastically, before grabbing at the Mershark again. This time with both hands.

 Despite his best efforts to twist, slash, and dodge, the fingers eventually closed roughly around his trembling form, one set gloved, the other bare. The instant he was grabbed, Zelu was reminded just how small he was compared to these monsters. He was just barely bigger than the crabs, and very easily crushable. There was little the Mershark could do to prevent those gigantic hands from seizing him like some prized salmon and hoisting him up into the air.

 The Mershark cried out pitifully, tears stabbing at his eyes as he watched the bucket fall away. For a moment, he found himself dangled upside down, two of the human's fingers tightly pinching his tail. Shot with a sudden rush of adrenaline, Zelu snarled and thrashed, struggling like a rabid animal, hoping his claws would land on something. The human laughed, before carefully bringing up its other hand to stop his attacks.

 After a moment of uncomfortable shifting and lots of struggling, it got him stuck in a crushing fist, arms pinned to his sides, rendering the Mershark's prime defenses useless. Zelu snapped his head around, forced to look up at his captors with burning eyes. He could barely breathe out of water and the extra pressure from those god-awful hands did nothing to help.

"Got some fight in ya, huh? Ha!" The human boomed, peering at Zelu with an eye almost bigger than his head. "If ya were bigger, I 'spect I'd be flat out on the deck, aye? Lil' rough-skin?"

"Dale, don't tease it."

 The Mershark growled at him and snapped his teeth, but it was more out of sheer terror than anger. The human smirked at it's companion, who leaned in to get a better look. It grabbed at the back of Zelu's head with two fingers, forcing the young pup to look it right in those awful, downright predatory eyes. Just the slightest movement and his head would be ripped from his shoulders. A tear threatened to slip out. Zelu just barely managed to keep it in.

"I don't think I've ever seen something like this in all my years on the water. Could it be a mermaid?"

 The bearded human shrugged, jostling it's prisoner a little. "Mermaids are girls, Red. This one looks like a dude. And I don' think mermaids are this tiny."

 "What makes you think it's not a girl?"

 "Well it's got that short hair, an' it tried to bite me earlier…"

 "Girls do that stuff too, Dale."

 Zelu shook horribly while the giants talked among themselves, fins angled down in clear discomfort. His heart threatened to burst from his ribcage and flop out onto the deck. His gills screamed in starvation, begging for more water to fill them. His tail twitched weakly, blood struggling to circulate under immense pressure. Everything in his body wanted the same thing, and that was to get free or die trying. Zelu didn't really like that last part.

 "D'you think he's cold? Thing's shakin like a leaf."

 "It's probably not used to open air. Ignore it."

 Yeah right, it was the air that made his whole body vibrate like a pre-eruption volcano. Zelu mentally berated himself for being so stupid and breaking the rules, blinking rapidly. He would not cry, no sir, absolutely not.

 But it wasn't like there was no reason to. Only seven years old, just turned, and here he sat. Prisoner to these beasts, struggling for air with no foreseeable way out. Just perfect.

"Though, I wouldn't call it half human. Humanoid, maybe, but not fully half. It's got more of a snout than a nose, see? And the eyes have green stuff instead of white."

 The rough hands around him tightened as the humans altered their grip.

 "It looks pretty young…" Ponytail commented, eyes roaming his exposed belly. Zelu swallowed dryly, trying to ignore the spotty, light-headed feeling that started to overcome him. "I think whatever this thing is, it'll fetch us a hefty price. Much more than some silly old blue crabs."

 The bearded one nodded eagerly, messing around with Zelu's tail. "Them marine biology people would go nuts."

 It released his tail, bringing the hand to poke at his head again. "Hey, d'you think it's got proper sharks' teeth or humanish ones? Or a mixture of both?"

 Zelu no longer thought clearly at this point. Whether it was from fear, lack of breathable oxygen, or just plain instincts, he didn't know. He only saw the massive (ungloved) finger coming directly at his face, inching forward slowly and tauntingly. Like a barracuda preparing to strike. His mind played out scenes of bloody carnage, one after the other.

 Knives slicing down through his stomach, pins holding his guts open, a shock collar around his neck, tags stabbed through his fins, hands passing him around like an expensive fruit, a lonely tank on display in front of hundreds of other humans, a blade coming down to separate his tail from his body, a massive boot smashing him into a bloody stain, his family finding his crushed, discarded skeleton in the crab fields-

 It was all too much.

 Shaking worse than a sea lily caught in a whirlpool, Zelu lunged forward as far as he could go.

"MOTHERF-" The bearded human roared, dropping its prize as tiny, hooked teeth sunk into the flesh of its pointer finger.

 It jumped and flailed like a demented chicken, shouting countless human swears and curses as it tried to shake off the frightened Mershark. Zelu just held on best he could, now-freed venomous claws dug deep into leathery skin, wind howling in his ears. He could hear shrieks of laughter from the ponytail human, who didn't do much to help it's comrade.

He was just a pup though. And his small teeth, combined with the sheer force of being whipped around like a ragdoll at high speed, by a giant, made sure he couldn't hold on forever.

 So with one powerful flick, his teeth tore through the skin, disgusting metallic blood oozed into his mouth, his claws ripped free, and Zelu went flying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 The first thing Zelu felt when he woke was pain. Just pure, throbbing, dull pain. Nothing different whatsoever. His head felt like it was full of watery mud, sloshing about every time he shifted. He'd like to stay lying down right here, thanks. If he didn't move it wouldn't hurt so much.

 But that's not how the world works, so resting out here in the open wasn't an option.

 Zelu did take a few more minutes to relax though. He couldn't remember much from what happened before, but the clean saltwater that flowed freely over his gills definitely helped. Much more soothing than the brackish mix he'd been stuck in before. The Mershark inhaled slowly, relishing in the familiar freshness. The mud in his head dried a little with each deep breath, clearing out the condensation.

  Eventually, Zelu felt comfortable enough to peel open his eyes, only to shut them immediately. Everything was so bright. Questions came to mind pretty quickly, since the beds were never that bright. Did he drift off into the middle of the atlantic? Was he in a coral reef or something? Did Kepsy find him? Was he in Lemon shark territory?

 Holding up a webbed hand, Zelu cracked open his eyes again, squinting in the harsh sunlight. It wasn't all the way around him, just beaming from a large half-circle directly in front of his face, but it was still overwhelming to look at. The water here was so clear. It even held a kind of blue tinge to it, very different from the seaweed beds' usual muted greens. This definitely looked like a reef, only less crowded. He raised his head and blinked to get used to the glare. After a second, his vision cleared a little, and he moved his hands away to stare at his surroundings.

 A small hotdog-shaped fish with brown speckles and bulging eyes stared back at him. Zelu blinked. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that. The fish opened and closed its mouth. Then with the flick of an elongated tail, the small fish swam off, stopping a small distance away to nibble at some of the algae that coated the floor.

 A blenny, Zelu thought to himself. Algae eaters. Not very filling.

 Blennies were pretty common in reefs. Pushing himself up on his arms, Zelu winced when his sore elbows rolled over something hard, bending his spines in the wrong direction. The ground felt surprisingly rocky. He looked down to see the floor covered in oddly-colored pebbles. He himself was lying on his stomach in a bed of them. Moving them aside, the pebbles revealed a normal layer of white sand. A thin layer of weird rainbow pebbles over stupidly clean sand? Odd. He expected just sand and mud.

  Zelu moved to float up and swim off, maybe find another Merfolk and ask some questions, only for his head to collide with something hard. Rubbing his forehead, he looked up to see a roof of weird blue stone. Looking around further, Zelu noticed that he was in a small shallow cave. It was just big enough for a family of three Merfolk, completely round like an overturned bowl. Shell-patterned imprints decorated the inside, and his ears just now picked up an odd low hum coming from somewhere above. It vibrated and surrounded him, penetrating his very being with a tone he could barely hear. A small tendril of dread curled around his heart. His shelter looked, sounded, and felt so…artificial.

"Ke….Miss Kepsy? Mother?" He called out, drifting outside the cave mouth. He winced at how weak and shaky his voice sounded. For some strange reason, talking hurt. "Cain? Mala? A-are you guys there?"

 While his eyes struggled to adjust to the light change, Zelu absentmindedly ran a finger over his palm, tracing the lines until it hit something weird. A rough, raw imprint, spreading horizontally through both palms, cutting small rips into the webbing stretched between his fingers. Confused, Zelu held up his hands in front of his face.

 When the heck did I hurt my hands?

 He looked at them for a solid minute, before everything came flooding back.

 The memories. All of them. The memories of Mala's scolding and Cain's disapproving look. The memories of the crab trap and the traitor Mercrab, her sneering grin burning into his eyes. The memories of the thin wire bars, cutting into his palms while he watched a crocodile circle overhead. The memories of the giant humans and the hands around him, crushing and squeezing his life away. Memories of the booming voices and his gills screaming for water, something hard colliding with his head. Memories of the blood in his mouth and sand in his throat, scratching and ripping open his flesh. Very, very faint memories of steamy breath on his face and two freaking eyes just staring at him-

  Zelu had to move. He couldn't stay here, no matter how much his aching muscles protested. With an aggressive flick of a tail, he shot out of the tiny cave, out into open water. The light burned his eyes, hidden wounds stung, and his head hurt worse than before, but he didn't care. Colorful plants and weird statues flew past his line of sight, melding into a multicolored blur. Zelu just kept swimming. He needed to find his mother, he needed to warn his siblings, he had to get back home before something bad happens to them-

 ...only for an invisible barrier to slam right into his face with an awful crunch, stopping the frightened Mershark dead in his tracks.

 "SHIT-"

  Zelu's hands came up to clutch his face, fresh agony blossoming from his nose. It didn't feel broken and there wasn't any blood, but damn the seven seas it hurt. He drifted away from the barrier, almost tearful green eyes frantically flicking around. What did he just run into? Did something graze him and swim off?

 Zelu reached out a hand, feeling the water for whatever stopped his flight. His claws met an invisible wall, and once the shock cleared from his vision, the Mershark noticed a slight smudge where his face made contact. What was this thing? Glass? He spun around, still clutching his nose. The light no longer blinded him as harshly, giving the Mershark a good view of his surroundings.

  Where the heck am I?

 To his left, a white and yellow Butterfly fish gave him an irritated look from its perch under a rocky, red arch. The Blenny from before continued it's algae purge, pushing past Zelu without a care in the world. Like he, a clear predator, didn't exist. Above his weird blue cave, two Clownfish peeked out at the new visitor from a porous rock formation. Red and green plants sat suspended in the water, but did not move with the current.

Actually, Zelu couldn't even feel a current. The water felt eerily still.

 A weird silly-looking great-white shark statue decorated the pebble bed, accompanied by what looked like an anchor and a gold-toothed skull. The humming source, which sat near the surface, turned out to be a strange waterfall-making machine that churned up the water for no clear reason.

 This wasn't a reef. Not a branch of coral in sight.

 Zelu could feel his spines raise in alarm. Now that he could see better, the Mershark noticed that there was not just one glass barrier, but four. Four massive see-through walls, trapping him in a rectangular box with four other fish. Above, a big black lid shut them all in, weird blue-tinged light tubes casting a soft glow over everything underneath.

 Through the glass, Zelu could see a room. Only this room held weird furniture and was hundreds of times bigger than his own den. One glass-filled window on each wall, a pair of simple desks (one in front and the other set on his left side), an ugly red-white flower patterned carpet spread out over the floor, and a small closed doorway set to his far right. For a room, it looked pretty small and empty, lots of open space in the middle, punctuated only by a scattering of strange, four-legged table-things with a tall plank of wood stuck up on only one side. The thing Zelu was currently stuck in sat atop another desk, pushed up against the wall so he could only look at things directly in front of him.

  He…he was trapped.

  No Cain, no Mala, no Miss Kepsy, no Mother. Not even a crab from before. He was trapped, all on his own.

  Zelu's trembling hands fell from his face. His fins twitched erratically as his mouth opened and closed like a dying fish, inhaling almost way too much water for his gills to process. The Mershark ran his hands over his face, pulling at his hair in panic. The pain in his skin came crawling back in the thousands, the adrenaline rush from before having petered out. The ghosts of many sand particles scratched and tore through his gills and throat. A sharp copper tang itched at his tongue.

  Everything felt so sore and achy. His head offered a startlingly good impression of a sinkhole caving in. Stinging wounds lined his torso and tail like Tiger shark stripes, invisible, but still there. Overall, he just felt gross. He felt violated, he felt exposed, for Megalo's sake he felt half dead.

 And to top it all off, Zelu was trapped. The humans, they had dragged him from the sea, tortured him, grabbed at his body, thrown him to the land, and stuck him in this cage. In this horrible tank, put on display for all to see. He would be kept as a pet or studied. Hell, he might even be cooked and eaten. Nothing more than extra calories, fried and seasoned with some random assortment of vegetables. He truly had no idea what humans really did and didn't do, but Zelu knew what humans did do to most of the things they stole from the sea. He'd heard all the stories, told to him by wide-eyed Merfolk riddled with scars.

 Unfortunately, stuck in the midst of his panicking overactive imagination, Zelu failed to hear the rhythmic booming of giant footsteps coming his way. He didn't see the doorway open and close with a muted 'click'. He didn't even notice the approaching human, far too absorbed in his own thoughts, until it leaned down to peer through the smudged glass, burning hollow eyes staring at the Mershark like a cut of fresh meat. He turned his head, ready to bolt somewhere and hide, only to lock eyes with a freaking giant of all things.

 Struck with a crippling sense of Déjà Vu, Zelu's body froze up against his will. His breath hitched and his skin went completely numb. He swore the glass walls started shaking by themselves.

 For several long minutes, Zelu and the human studied each other, Zelu out of shot-up terror, the human in barely concealed wonder. This human looked very odd compared to the other two who'd stolen and maimed him. It had pure-white hair that stuck to its head like a pulled-apart cotton ball, and bone-pale skin smeared with some weird white ointment. Round glasses sat upon a bandaged nose, magnifying them to a point where it reminded Zelu of the eyes of a swordfish. Its irises looked like great blue fish scales, glinting coldly in the flickering glow of the tank, the black void in the center shrinking and growing with changes in light. The worst part was its hands. Two huge hands made for grabbing and crushing, resting almost mockingly on the table in front of the tank. The human very suddenly bared its flat, spine-snapping teeth, lips twitching upward in a terrifying grin.

 "H-Hey there, little buddy."

 The words sounded slightly muffled through the water, but the human's voice was loud enough for anyone to understand. Zelu flinched away at the noise, mouth moving wordlessly. The human tilted its head, some sick impersonation of sympathy spreading over it's massive face.

 "O-oh, right. Sorry." It whispered, holding up a hand to its mouth in what Zelu knew was mock embarrassment. "I must be really loud to you, huh?"

 No response from the Mershark. Not that he could say anything. Zelu felt completely paralyzed. That pesky adrenaline returned, granting him the ability to hear every tiny noise around him; The humming from the tank, the small swirling swishes of water being shifted, the giant monster's heavy, clearly excited heartbeat thrumming through the table, the sound of massive lungs sucking in and expelling gallons of air….it all felt a billion times louder. Too bad all those heightened senses would go to waste.

 "S-so um, I think introductions are in order, yeah?" The human said quietly. "M-my name's Phelix. With a P-H instead of an F. I sort of...rescued you? From the b-beach?"

'Phelix' offered a small, embarrassed smile. Or was it a sneer? Zelu couldn't tell.

"I-I mean, I found you half-stuck in the sand looking like you just went through a hurricane, so um...I'm sorry if you don't like touching, but I uh...kind of had to d-dig you up and carry you back here..."

 Once again, the Mershark found he couldn't respond. His mouth just gaped uselessly, shivering body making small ripples in the water above him. The human touched him? It picked him up? And probably did all sorts of unspeakable things? Without Zelu knowing?

Spotting the devastated look on its captive's face, 'Phelix' frowned.

 "L-Look, I apologized, right? A-And I fixed you up too!" It pointed a massive finger at Zelu's chest. The Mershark's eyes flicked down, hands coming up to feel what he thought was going to be a collar or vest, something put on him to restrain his movements, but instead he touched a thin layer of sea-soaked softness. His claws ran over long strips of cloth, wrapped around him from head to tail.

'Are these…bandages?' He thought, tugging at one of the looser strips. 'What the hell…'

The white cloth wrapped tightly around his chest, around his arms, and around parts of his tail, some spots holding little blotches of crimson. The whole ordeal was confusing, to say the least. But Zelu didn't let his guard down just yet. The bandages could be part of a larger scheme, one step of many.

"W-We should be okay now, right? You have a name, little buddy?"

 Zelu blinked at it, eyes going back to the original size of wide and terrified. His spines instinctively flared up as if challenging the giant to make a move.

 "Okay, you d-don't want to tell me, that's fine... What about a nickname? C-Can I call you something other than fish-boy?" The giant paused. "...Can...can you even understand me?"

 Of course he could understand, Zelu wasn't stupid. Human languages and Merfolk languages were mostly one and the same, outside of the deep waters. Deepwater Merfolk talked in light flashes, hand signs, and click/growl/warble combos, if he remembered anything from Kepsy's lessons. He just didn't feel like letting the human know any of that.

 "...okay, probably a no on that….I'll keep calling you little b-buddy for now. What about S-Spike though? For a nickname? B-Because of all those spikes." The human gave a short laugh, loud vibrations shaking the tank violently. Well not really, but it certainly felt like it. "Nah, that's a horrible n-nickname…what about....Urchin?"

 Zelu let out a pained wheeze, ears drooping. He considered giving the human his name just so it wouldn't call him something dreadful. Anything's better than a horrible pet name. He ended up shoving that train of thought off the rails before it left the station.

 What if names held some sort of power on the surface land, and giving it to one would give the human complete control? Not like Zelu had control over anything at the moment, but he didn't feel like taking that chance. So he made the decision to remain frozen in the water. Maybe humans could only see things that moved.

"Augh….p-please don't give me that look. You don't have to be afraid, little b-buddy! I just want t-to help you."

 Help him? How? Zelu didn't need help, he was perfectly fine, thank you very much. He knew this human was obviously lying in order to make him stick around for whatever it had planned. He wasn't going to fall for that trick.

 "...a-and before you start shouting about how you d-d-don't need help, lemme tell you this. I found you almost fifteen feet away from the water. You were covered in bruises and sand, and you were choking on your own b-blood." The human leaned back, crossing its arms with a fake-worried frown.

"S-so as much as I hate to say this, you aren't le-leaving until I'm sure you're a h-hundred percent okay."

Something inside Zelu snapped.

 With a pathetic squeal, the Mershark shot across the tank and dove right back into his tiny cave, leaving nothing but bubbles in his wake. He ignored the burning pain that spread over his torso and tail like a rash. That could be dealt with later.

 Heaving with barely-hidden sobs, the Mershark hunkered down in the back of the blue-rock cave, the salt from his tears mixing with the water around him. The human had practically spelled out his death. He was stuck here under the ruse that he was injured, which to be fair, was kind of slightly true, but who gave a shit?

 His eyes couldn't really focus anymore and his body hurt so much. The bandages weighed hundreds of pounds against his skin, stinging when he tried to pull them off, wisps of blood swirling out when his open wounds lost their wrappings. His head hurt, his tail hurt, his eyes hurt, his arms hurt, his gills hurt, heck everything hurt and he hated it.

 So much for not crying…

 The human merely stood up and moved around to stare at him again, head tilted in confusion and disappointment, this time from the square end of the glass.

"...dammit….." He heard the human mutter, pinching the bridge of its nose under its glasses. ".... amazing j-job, Phelix….you m-made things s-so much better…..jesus christ...."

 Oh Megalo, he'd made it mad. It could reach in at any moment and pluck him from the water like a dead goldfish. And he (probably) wouldn't be able to do a thing. Nowhere to run and very few places to hide. He pushed the pebbles underneath him aside, making a small circle of sand for him to lie in.

 Zelu curled his body in a tight U-shape, chest to the floor, hands planted firmly in the sand, elbows splayed out to set his venomous spines in a clear display of angry defiance. His fins pressed themselves flat against his head, the smaller spines above them poking up like antennae. Zelu bared his teeth and snarled as loud as he could, prompting his captor to glance up.

 If the human wanted it's pet to cooperate, it'd have to drag him out itself. And Zelu wasn't going without a fight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Except the anticipated 'fight' never came.

 After the initial first contact, which Zelu now knew took place in the middle of the night, nothing happened. No threats, no extra humans with blades or nets, no hands trying to grab at him. Zelu actually found himself regretting his stubbornness, for Meg's sake.

 After two days without danger, the cave had started to feel cramped and dull. Zelu fidgeted constantly, moving, stacking and rearranging the pebbles around his 'kill circle'. He doodled in the sand. The humming of the tank became oddly soothing over time, as weird as that sounded. His fish neighbors never bothered him, though the clownfish sometimes came around for a visit, only to find themselves driven away by loud growling. Through it all, Zelu almost never left his spot.

  As for the human…

  The human didn't act at all like he expected. It made no move whatsoever to grab him or drag him out of the tiny cave. It didn't even stick a hand in the water. It just….watched him. And existed near him, sometimes staring at a strange silver rectangle, sometimes just sitting around or writing on a weird white sheet. This went on for several sun cycles, end to end.

 Occasionally 'Phelix' would disappear, leaving the Mershark all on his own. Almost like clockwork it'd leave with a simple 'goodbye' to him, and then come back hours later to announce it's return, before vanishing into a separate room. Zelu took that time to wander around the tank and look for a plausible escape route. He never found anything of use.

  Sometimes the human never left. Sometimes it just walked around the house, talking absentmindedly about whatever it was doing at the moment. The Mershark never left his hiding spot during this time. He was far too worried about what would happen if he did that. Although when the human wasn't walking around or writing or leaving to do whatever, it did the strangest things.

  Instead of interrogating or torturing him like he expected, 'Phelix' would try to make conversation, even if it was met with complete silence every time. It would talk about what happened during its day. It would talk about random human things like 'horror movies' and 'anime', whatever those were. Sometimes the conversation went directly at Zelu himself, questions about who he was, where he came from, how was he doing, those kinds of things. Other times the topic of discussion went to something completely random.

 "I found a c-cool rock today! It looked like a rainbow, so I thought you'd find it p-pretty!"

 "Do you eat seaweed or just meat? My p-parents always said seaweed was like, a 'superfood', or something along those lines."

 "Are there more of you in the river? You d-don't have to answer, I'm just curious!"

 "I've always w-wondered….how do magnets work?"

 "Those spines look s-super sharp for a shark. Are you a dogfish? I read somewhere that there's a kind of d-dogfish with spines."

 "My sister Sara gave me a call yesterday. She's having t-trouble with finals again, i-if you know what those are. Might c-come around sometime."

 "You should eat what I g-give you. Going that long without food can't b-be good for someone of your size-"

 "I really like plants. They aren't l-loud and can't judge you, y'know? Super chill when you need them to be. You k-kinda remind me of a plant sometimes, minus the no-judging part."

  Zelu never answered, though he did react to some things by narrowing his eyes or blowing bubbles at the right times. He made sure it seemed entirely random so the human never knew he could understand what it said. Once, it offered to change his bandages, but Zelu shut that down with an angry hiss. Surprisingly, the human didn't press any further than that, even though it was clear the greying cloth was starting to fall away.

  After their one-sided chat, the human would drop in some chunk of meat or fish alongside a farewell. Zelu never touched them. He wasn't some pet, he didn't want to be treated and fed like one, ignoring how his outraged stomach protested. Even if they weren't poisoned or drugged, he didn't trust anything the human gave him. He made the decision to just stay put. He could survive on stored fat and stored fat alone, even if he didn't eat for many, many sun cycles.

 The untouched food started to pile up and rot as the nights passed. The neighboring fish sometimes pecked at it, but their efforts barely made a dent.

 The whole time, his human captor kept up the 'nervous' charade, always stuttering or apologizing about something. It never raised its voice, nor did it stomp around like giants were supposed to. In fact, whenever it entered the room, it slowed down and lowered it's tone drastically.

 Zelu despised those actions. All that tip-toeing and fake-casualty made him want to grow fifteen sizes and punch the damn thing right in the face. It treated him like some fragile seashell instead of a tough-as-nails shark. He wouldn't break if the giant breathed wrong, so why couldn't it stop acting like he would? The Mershark actually found himself constantly hoping for the other shoe to drop, but it never came. The darn thing had been falling for about six sun-cycles now, and he hated it. Any longer and Zelu'd end up forcing it down.

 Today was different.

 After returning from many hours of vanishment, 'Phelix' sat down in front of the tank with a less than pleased expression on its face. It stared at the glass for a few minutes, eyes hard, not uttering a single weird question or odd attempt at conversation.

 The Mershark tensed up, spines flared, eyes wide and daring. His mind rang with more-than-frantic alarm bells.

  Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

 He quietly stifled a roar from his stomach, keeping his head low. Did he do something to upset it? Oh Meg it was probably the conversations, he should have tried to respond to those...

The human offered no more than an exasperated sigh. Zelu flinched, expecting an attack, but it simply took off its glasses to rub at its eyes. He just now noticed that it was wearing rubber gloves.

 "L-Look, I didn't want t-to bring this up, but…" 'Phelix' leaned forward, clasping its hands in front of its face. Its gaze flicked over to stare directly into the blue cave, burning glacier eyes cutting through the water. Zelu shrank away at the sudden attention. "You haven't been eating. You d-didn't eat anything I g-gave you, and I-It's….it's been almost a week since I f-found you!"

 "You haven't even l-left that cave! Little buddy, I can't j-just...let you s-starve yourself like that..!" It brought a gloved hand up to the tank, showing the Mershark a rough cube of raw tuna pinched between it's fingers. "Listen, I've worked with s-sea creatures before.….what I'm a-asking is....p-please don't get mad at me for this."

 'Phelix' rolled up it's sleeves with a queasy look on its face. Zelu didn't like at all where this was going.

 With one swift motion, the human flipped up the aquarium lid and lowered a gloved hand into the water, creeping slowly toward the Mershark's shelter. Zelu squeaked in terror, pushing himself as far away as possible. His back hit the fake-rock wall and he pressed himself into it, willing the solid surface to just open up and absorb him.

  The shoe had finally hit the ground and the impact split open the earth beneath it. He'd done something wrong. He didn't eat what he was given. He didn't speak when spoken to. His human captor had finally decided to get rid of its defective pet. He'd be eaten, sold, or simply crushed into a bloody pulp.

  There is nothing you can do.

  Firm fingers wrapped around him like the tentacles of a giant squid, pulling Zelu to its beak, ready to snap him in two. The Mershark was too weak to properly fight back, but he still struggled hopelessly against the human's hold. He raked his claws over the hand, biting and beating it as hard as he could.

 It didn't even make a dent.

 There was no skin to slice, no flesh to bite and claw. Just solid rubber armor.

 You are going to die.

 "I-I know, I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-'' The giant murmured as Zelu's fighting went from frantic to downright pitiful. "It's okay, j-just calm down. I'm not going to h-hurt you..."

 It pulled the Mershark from the blue-shelled cave. The other fish in the tank hid behind whatever was closest. Zelu felt his vision go spotty. Everything was too bright and loud, it made his head hurt bad. He'd give anything to go back to his dark cave where he was left alone.

 But like usual, Zelu didn't have much of a choice. The hand-prison stopped just under the surface of the water, the human's second hand coming in to presumably twist his head from his shoulders. The Mershark cried out and jerked his shoulders violently in a weak attempt to escape. He snapped his teeth at the approaching digits. He'd bite a thousand fingers to get free, no matter what consequences follow.

  "Oh geez, li-little buddy it's okay! I-I'm seriously not g-gonna hurt you! Really!" The human turned it's free hand palm-up, showing the chunk of tuna. "I-I just want to make sure you eat something, that's all! P-please calm down! You're perfectly safe!"

  Zelu snapped his head around, shooting 'Phelix' a disbelieving glare. He immediately regretted it when his head throbbed even more painfully at the sudden motion. Pinching the tuna in two fingers, the human held it in front of the Mershark's face.

 "C-c'mon, I need you to eat. I d-don't even know how you're even alive at this point." 'Phelix' replied, pushing the fish closer to his face for emphasis. "I swear I-It's not poisoned or anything. I read that d-dogfish like tuna, so this shouldn't be a preference thing."

 Zelu made sure his mouth stayed shut, lips firmly pressed together in a quivering line. He shook his head in a violent 'no', eyes squeezed shut, trying to ignore the pain and lightheadedness that came with. He could feel soggy fish bump against his face. The Mershark avoided it like a fussy toddler refusing dinner. He couldn't eat from a human's hand no matter how starved he was. His pride wouldn't be able to survive such a blow.

"C-c'mon, please work with me…." The human muttered in a pleading voice. "I-I really, really don't w-want to force y-you more than I am n-now! P-please, just-"

 The tuna bumped against his face again, with a little more force. Zelu snarled and snapped at the hand behind it. "-work with me?"

 The hand surrounding the Mershark started to shake. The tuna stopped assaulting his face, but it's scent still lingered in the water. Zelu snorted, fully prepared to try and fight his way out, but his own body said otherwise. His stomach cursed him for refusing such easy food, making sure the next hungry growl came with a full-body ache as punishment. Zelu pressed his heated face into the giant's rubber thumb, biting back horrible groans of agony as he continued to shake his head. He didn't even know who or what he was refusing anymore. His fins and shoulders twitched and shuddered, betraying the clear burning pain that festered in his starving gut.

 You know what.

 Zelu raised his head slightly.

 Screw the rules.

 Screw the rules. He needed food. He needed that tuna. Humans and pride be damned, he needed something.

 The human wasn't crushing him, and it kept saying it wasn't going to hurt him….so perhaps…for once, it was safe..? That reasoning went against everything Zelu had been taught, but it was clear that if he didn't accept the giant's offer, it'd probably start using real force...

 Zelu cracked open an eye, turning his cheek to the rubber floor. The free hand was withdrawing from the aquarium, taking the slightly soggy meat with it.

 "WAIT!" The Mershark cried suddenly, head snapping to the side. His rubber prison flinched at the outburst, squeezing Zelu just a little too tight for a split second. "ST-STOP! I-I'LL EAT IT! J-JUST-"

 Zelu's voice dissolved into a harsh sob, hands clenching into fists as he turned to face the human that called itself Phelix, giving it a one-eyed glare that admittedly looked more like a leaky stare.

 The human looked….well, to be blunt, it looked awful. Its face was twisted in a pained grimace, head leaning away from the aquarium like holding a five-inch Merfolk pup hostage was the worst possible thing in the world. Heck, 'Phelix' looked on the verge of crying, fat tears hanging on by a thread behind those round glasses. It was incredibly surreal, to see such a giant apex predator so distressed.

 Zelu swallowed. As horrible as it looked, he'd cut himself off and the human was clearly expecting an answer, lest he make it angry. Filling his gills with fresher water, he gave 'Phelix' a pointed glare, trying incredibly hard to keep eye contact without screaming. "...p-please let me go. Please."

 The human did nothing for a moment, then nodded without a word. The gloved fingers opened and pulled back, releasing the Mershark into open water. Zelu frantically patted himself down to make sure nothing was broken, trying to ignore the sick feeling that washed over when his claws grazed over his well-defined ribs. Even under the wrappings he was clearly  malnourished. Zelu found nothing new and exhaled some bubbles in a sigh of relief, quietly cursing his own stubbornness.

 The exposed ribs and burning pain that came with his hunger wasn't the worst part. The worst part, well, it was the fact that the human had listened to Zelu. It made absolutely no sense. Predators don't listen to their prey, he knew from experience. But for some reason this one did. It stared at him with those huge, awful, sad blue eyes, listened to his embarrassing pleas for release, and actually let him go. Not a shred of malice or ill intent anywhere.

 Another hand appeared in the corner of his vision. For a split second, pure panic seized the reins of his mind. The Mershark whirled out of the way, fins flared, spines up, claws ready to slice open human flesh, as futile as that attempt might be. Leave it to a giant villainous beast to deal such a low blow, striking from behind, he never should have paused-

 Only the hand didn't grab at him. It didn't even get close. Instead, it stopped a good distance away from him, palm up, presenting that little chunk of tuna like an offering.

 "...N-now can you eat?" He heard Phelix ask in a low tone, huge voice cracking right down the middle. It was astonishing how terrified it sounded. ".....pl-please..?"

 Zelu contemplated turning right around, tucking himself away in his cave, and burying his shattered pride under the multicolored pebbles. Every sane instinct inside him shrieked at him to run or hide. The only part that didn't say 'get the heck out of there' was his need for actual food.

 So Zelu, cursing himself all the way, so tense his bones felt like snapping under the pressure, slowly dragged himself toward the open hand.

  He stopped in front of it, hands clutched at his chest, claws fiddling with the loose bandages. The Mershark shot a look at 'Phelix'. The human still looked pretty distraught, but a more hopeful gleam had appeared in its eyes. It stared at him in awe, mixed wonder and apprehensiveness and regret dancing about in its features. Zelu started shivering again. He didn't like the way those eyes locked on to him. Like it saw something rare and worthy of keeping.

 "Can you….look away?" He tried shakily. "I-I don't…like being watched…."

 This was pushing it. He was in no place to make demands. Zelu fully expected the human to refuse and drop this stupid 'i'm so scared or you' act. That's how things should be. Humans were the top predators of the surface, able to take down even the strongest of Merfolk with their cunning brutality and evil ingenuity. He's seen the scars and he's heard the stories, why can't this stupid human stop stalling and do whatever its planning on doing?

 "Hm? Oh, oh sure. S-Sorry." The human replied with a nod, turning its head to the side. Its arm remained in the tank, bent at an awkward angle. "T-take as long as you want."

 Zelu nodded back, though it was more for himself than anything. What was wrong with this monster? Humans didn't have emotions, everyone knew that. Did he happen to get captured by a mutant? Why the hell wasn't it maiming him right now?

  The Mershark willed his nerves to calm down and stop shaking (a futile effort). He turned to stare at the human's hand. More than anything it looked like an open bear trap, baited and set. He'd seen a few of them rusting away on the ocean floor, among tons of other human garbage. The fingers curled slightly inward, every line in that palm defined and etched into thin rubber, the points of squared fingernails poking through at the fingertips. Every so often, a digit would twitch, itching to bend inward and close into a full fist. The tuna rested in the crook of its middle three fingers. A clear trap from any sane Merfolk's perspective.

  Zelu outstretched a shaky arm, reaching for the food as carefully as possible. He shouldn't be doing this. He was swimming in poisoned waters. He shouldn't trust a human. He can't. As he's said before, It was against everything he was taught, completely against the way he was raised. His mother would kill him for being in this situation in the first place.

 But through it all, his stomach won the battle. He only saw the tuna, in all its savory glory. With all the courage he could muster, Zelu shut his eyes and lunged, arms outstretched. His claws groped blindly for the food, brushing against smooth, thick rubber for a split second, before sinking into his slightly soggy target. Zelu yanked it from its perch in the center and bolted, clutching his prize to his chest in a mad dash for shelter.

 Go go go go go get out of there get OUT OF THERE-

 He hit the cave wall head-on, but he didn't care. Headaches were the norm at this point. Zelu didn't even turn to check if he was being followed. The second the tank lights dimmed and the roof passed over him, the Mershark tore into the tuna with reckless abandon.

 And it tasted so damn good.

 Even if it was just soggy, unseasoned fish meat, to Zelu it tasted like the food of the gods. He bit off massive chunk after massive chunk, not even trying to chew as he forced it all down. Flecks of uneaten fish floated around him like snowflakes. His gut offered no more than a pleased gurgle. It probably looked disgusting and was completely undignified, but who cares about that? Who cares about anything? This was the most important thing right now and it's getting all of his attention.

 Zelu ended up finishing in record time. He didn't know just how big that tuna chunk was until he found himself stuffed to the gills, a sizable portion still left in his claws. If Cain was here, he'd be shaking his head at the pup's clear disregard for manners.

'Sharks should be dignified. We aren't complete animals.' Zelu thought he would say, translated from a simple eyebrow-raise-eye-roll-small-frown combo. 'How many times do I have to tell you this?'

 Well Cain can take his 'manners' and shove it up his nose. He should try being captured by giant land-walking predators and starved for practically a whole week. (Although Zelu would never admit the starving part was partially his fault. Who could blame him? Kepsy said humans took and used drugs daily, that all could have been poisoned)

 The Mershark looked down at the remaining tuna in his hands. Something nasty sank into his gut.

 Could…could it have been poisoned? Did the human just…change tactics? Did it decide to force it's toxins into his system, using Zelu's stubbornness against him? Human drugs could do anything and this absolute clam-brain of a shark just downed the whole thing in one go. He essentially drank a whole bottle of poison without thinking.

 Was he going to throw it all up, organs and blood coming with it? Was he going to rot from the inside out? Was he going to pass out and never wake up? Was his body going to seize up in complete paralysis? Were his gills going to stop working? Was his entire organ system going to shut down? Was he going to go mad and start tearing himself to pieces? Was he going to be struck with a horrible rash that burned him on the inside until he succumbed to death’s feather-light grip?

 Zelu looked over his shoulder at the tank outside his shelter. The room had darkened considerably, the sun having left the sky ages ago, leaving the tank as the only real source of light. 'Phelix' was still sitting at the table, face in its hands, light bouncing off its discarded glasses, which dangled from two twitchy fingers. A sign of clear distress, seen mostly in tired old neighbors or depressed travelers who had no meaning left in their lives.

 He shuddered. Zelu couldn't get over how normal it looked, if you could call anything around here normal.

 The Blenny from before swam in agitated circles, but that was just because it apparently lived in the blue cave Zelu called 'home'. The butterfly fish was doing laps around the fake plants, and one of the clownfish had left its rock. It floated just inside the cave mouth, looking far too innocent for a fish. Heck, clownfish liked to bite, Zelu knew from experience, they had no right to look like that.

 "Am I going to die?" Zelu asked it, turning his body slightly. Morbid question, but he had to say to someone.

 The clownfish didn't respond. How could it? Clownfish couldn't talk. He shouldn't be asking a stupid fish about these things, much less another captured pet. He probably already knew the answer anyway.

 The clownfish hovered for a few long seconds, before swimming right on in without a care in the world. It ambled around the Mershark sucking up the discarded flecks of tuna, cleaning up the remains Zelu's mess. Then it stopped to face him, little black eyes staring right into his very soul. Like it wanted something.

Zelu tilted his head.

The clownfish tilted its whole body.

Zelu tilted his head the other way.

The clownfish tilted its whole body the other way.

The Mershark frowned.

 "You're a weird fish, you know that?" He said. "That was probably poison and you just sucked it all up."

 The clownfish yawned as if to say 'I don't care'. It looked down at the remaining tuna in his hands. Zelu blinked in confusion, before the realization of what exactly it wanted hit him. He smirked.

 "Oh, you want the rest of this?"

 The clownfish burped a bubble.

 "Well too bad. It's mine, poison or no poison. Fuck off."

 Apparently that was the wrong answer. The clownfish darted forward and clamped it's tiny teeth down on the tuna, tail pumping in an attempt to shove Zelu out of the way. Zelu yelped and tugged his precious food back, swatting at the orange menace. He and the clownfish wrestled with the rations, Zelu hissing and swiping at it with venomous claws, the clownfish refusing to let go and somehow dodging every attack. Zelu didn't realize their fight had left the cave until a booming voice scared them both into freezing.

 "Mason! S-stop fighting with little buddy!" 'Phelix' snapped, despite still looking like someone just killed its brother. Zelu tensed up at the bite in the human's tone. "I f-fed you earlier and that's j-just for him, okay? No stealing."

 The clownfish made one more attempt at jerking the fish from the Mershark's hands, before giving up and swimming off to the red rock, where the other clownfish waited. Zelu stuffed the tuna into his mouth, glancing up at the human with a raised eyebrow. He felt he should be more scared (the human looked terrifying at night, something about how massive silhouettes could scare the living daylights out of anyone with half a brain), but newfound food had kind of taken the edge off things. 'Phelix' sighed, clouding up the glass a little.

 "You alright?"

 Zelu chewed. The human leaned back in its chair.

 "S-so." It muttered quietly, pulling off the (now damp) rubber gloves one finger at a time. "You….you can understand me? A-And you can talk, too?"

 Zelu hesitated, swallowing. He pulled the tuna from his jaws, hooked teeth tearing small lines in its surface. Perhaps he should think this through. He'd been hiding for days and nothing happened, so maybe he should…..try and break that tradition? As much as he hated to admit, 'Phelix' was pulling possibly the worst pair of pup eyes imaginable without even knowing it. It could be intentional, to lower his guard, but since when had he been correct about this human? Ever? This was probably too fast, for him to try and give the human any information at all.

 But Zelu nodded anyway. To hell with thinking things through.

 "...a-and you've been able to this entire time?"

 Another nod.

 And the human broke down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 To call that reaction startling would be a complete understatement.

 The split second after Zelu nodded, the human had made a weird strangled 'oh' noise and buried its face in its hands. The table shook as the giant started to actually sob, taking great, shuddering breaths between frantic apologies and curses. Zelu cringed away, dropping his tuna with a hiss of surprise, spines raising at the sudden movement.

 "Oh jesus, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry-" It sniffled, looking up at the spooked Mershark in front of it. Small streams of tears flowed freely down its face. "Th-this whole t-t-time I've b-been treating you like a…l-like a…...god I'm so sorry, I'm such a freaking m-mo-mor-moron!"

 Zelu wasn't quite sure how to react. 'Phelix' just started…..crying out of nowhere. Slumped over on the table, face hidden in gargantuan arms, muttering so many apologies it just didn't feel right. The Mershark shifted uncomfortably, picking at his bandages. He decided he didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. He kind of wanted it to stop. This wasn't correct at all, it didn't make any sense whatsoever. Humans didn't cry, they couldn't. The stories spoke of them killing without remorse and loving without a heart. This both looked and felt wrong.

 As insane as it was, Zelu needed to stop it. What else did he have to lose at this point, anyway? The human made it clear he wasn't leaving, so he'd probably die eventually.

 Might as well use his last living moments doing what he did best. What was that, you might ask? Simple, it's causing trouble and being a general ass to everyone he didn't fully know.

 Zelu raised a shaky hand and rapped loudly on the glass wall. The human looked up at him from behind its arms, watery eyes wide and questioning. Newfound bravery (or was it stupidity?) took over the wheel as Zelu crossed his own arms, clearing his throat with a hardened look.

 "S-stop it." The Mershark announced, voice coming out higher than he wanted. He mentally cursed the small stutter at the beginning. "Stop doing that."

 The human sniffled and shrank away, still opting to hide behind its impossibly long limbs. Zelu took that moment to continue.

 "Stop crying." He demanded. "It's annoying and I don't like it. So stop."

 'Phelix' quirked an eyebrow, massive head rising from the wall of pale flesh made by its arms. It tilted its head to one side, before shaking it, cotton all hair spilling everywhere. The human ran its long fingers over its face in a vain attempt to stop the downpour and straighten out the sorry sight.

 "S-sorry...I d-do that sometimes…." It rasped, taking off its glasses to wipe away the still-oozing tears. Good lord, did this thing just swallow a bucket of sand? Its voice sounded awful. "Just…..f-feeling really bad r-right now…..."

 "About what?" Zelu asked. He made sure his voice sounded hard and irritated. As stunned as his inner self was, there was a possibility the human could be intimidated, even if that possibility went well into the negatives.

 "Y'know….. everything? G-grabbing you like that, tr-trying to f-force you to eat, p-pretty much k-kidnapping you f-from the beach….." 'Phelix' took in a massive shuddering breath, looking up at the ceiling. "I-I'm super, super sorry about a-all that…..I lied b-before, I really d-don't know how t-to handle tiny creatures…."

 The human slumped over on the table with a booming thunk, shaking everything and making Zelu instinctively back away. It pushed its glasses up onto its forehead, eyes glued to the brown wooden surface. A few late tears quietly rolled down its cheeks, sinking into the algae-green fabric of whatever kind of armor it was wearing.

 "I messed up. I j-just wanted t-to help, and I messed up. You have every right to b-be scared and h-hate me."

 Zelu snorted a cloud of bubbles. "Y-Yeah, that was a major double-dick jerk move. You giant brutes have n-no manners."

 Complete silence. Crap. He messed up. That had to be possibly the worst thing to say right now.

There's no way I'm avoiding an early death. If I survive this then I'm gonna eat Mala's stuffed sea sponge.

 " 's rude...." He heard 'Phelix' murmur. "....J-Justified, but st-still rude…"

Well shit. No turning back now.

 "I-I can be as rude as I want. You weren't the one who almost got crushed to death by a lying bone-faced oaf."

 'Phelix' winced, but made no move to respond. It stayed like that for a good five minutes, an occasional sniffle or sigh puncturing the thick silence. After a moment, its eyes started to drift shut.

 Zelu rapped on the glass again to get its attention. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, but his mind had thrown on autopilot and manual control couldn't take back the controls. "Oi, broken nose, i'm not done with you. No…No falling asleep in a pit of your own self hatred."

 The human sat up a fraction of an inch, lifting its head to stare at the tiny form before it. The Mershark tried to ignore the pang of terror that struck him when those tired glacial eyes locked into his own wide emeralds. He was definitely pushing it. The small request from before was a finger dip, this was diving in without thinking.

 Yet Phelix didn't look angry like he expected. They didn't even look mildly annoyed.

  Phelix's entire front was clearly lit up by the fish tank's soft blue light, their outline melding with the shadows of the room. The turquoise eyes still swam with old tears, dark gouges resting under the eyes like shadowy swings. Those thick glasses shone so clearly in the glow, Zelu could see his own warped reflection. A halo of red burned around them like a mask, blotches of pink spilling over the rest of their gargantuan face, a thick droplet of snot hanging by a thread from their left nostril. The soggy bandage on their nose curled up at the ends, and their gnawed-raw lips parted slightly, revealing a very noticeable gap between the yellowing stone squares they called teeth.

 "...eugh. On second thought, maybe don't look up." Zelu added under his breath. The human didn't hear.

For the second time in a row, Phelix looked dreadful. Clearly this wasn't the first time it had gotten upset. If he didn't know better, Zelu'd think it had been worrying and losing sleep over something the entire time he'd been here.

 Zelu took a moment to compose himself. Why did the human choose to look like that? Why that vulnerable and broken? He swore, Phelix looked more and more like a 'they' rather than an 'it' with each passing second. Why not conform to the usual and throw up the 'nasty evil giant har har har' face he knew so well? Why not stick to the storybook definition like he expected?

 "So. You confuse me." The Mershark repeated, louder this time. Gad, this is stupid. "And I hate you for it. So stop being confusing."

The human ran a sleeve across its face, stifling an exhausted yawn. "What's so con-confusing?"

 "Oh, I dunno, everything? You don't act like you should." Zelu replied, tapping the glass with a claw. "Of all the humans to have captured me, I got to get picked up by a crybaby mutant. You're too confusing."

 "Crybaby's a bit harsh…"

 "Well you are one. I don't make the rules."

 Phelix offered a weak chuckle. "S-sounds to me like you do, talking with that kinda atti-attitude."

 "Well I'm not a god, king, or a giant! And I'll talk to you any damn way I want!" Zelu shot back, completely forgetting who and what he was addressing. "And I think you're a crybaby, so a shrimpy little coward crybaby you are!"

 The human outright laughed at that. Their face still burned with past sorrows, but the jubilant smile that brightened their features took many, many edges off things. It still made the Mershark flinch, the sudden joyful sound rumbling around the tank like an earthquake. It took Phelix a minute to calm down.

 "You're..heh... funny." They said through short laughs, leaning forward on their elbows. "Sorry for g-getting emotional earlier….heheh... I cry over stupid stuff all the t-time."

 "You certainly do."

 "So….what about me d-do you find confusing, Mr Shark? You d-didn't really give m-me a straight answer."

 Zelu huffed and made a point in flexing his spines. He pulled at one of the loose wrappings around his chest, holding up the cloth to the human like a dirty rag. "Explain."

Phelix blinked.

 "Y-you're confused about the bandages?" They asked incredulously. "I-I thought I was pretty clear a-about those."

 "Well you weren't, so," The Mershark tugged on the cloth again for emphasis. "Explain, gigantor."

 "O-okay, so uh….they're bandages. I put them on you to help with your injuries," The human offered a mildly confused look, resting their face in their hand. "And I'd like t-to change them without getting b-bit, but ah…..I now know that's p-probably not a g-good idea.."

 "I know what bandages are, thanks, but what I'm asking you to explain is why," Zelu swam up closer to the tank lid to meet the human's admittedly low eye level, making sure every ounce of his energy went into keeping his voice and tone steely. He was a thread away from snapping under all that pressure. "Why did you put these things on me?"

 "Because you were hurt…? And I d-didn't want you to die?" 'Phelix' leaned out of  their palm and tilted their head to one side. "...Is this a trick question?"

 Zelu sighed. He wasn't getting anywhere with this stuttering clam-brain. They were dead set on keeping their plans secret, that's for sure.

 "Hey, if you can ask questions, c-can I ask some too?" The human asked suddenly, shaking Zelu from his dive into the eel burrow that was his angsty thoughts. "S-so it's not mostly one-sided. T-to make things fair, y'know?"

 The Mershark tensed up at that mention, his iron-hard mask starting to crack right down the middle. He'd already given Phelix enough information, what more could it want? His name? His species? His weaknesses? The location of his family? Zelu didn't want to give away anything… but a proposed deal could get him some vital escape info, if the human decided to cooperate (which had a fifty-fifty chance of happening, based on what he's seen of them). He thought it over for a few seconds.

 "....O-Okay, fine, I'll do a deal. What are your terms, human," He snapped, straining to weld his mask back on. "I won't agree to anything if I find it unreasonable."

 "You sure like b-big words, huh?" Phelix chuckled, pushing their glasses back down onto their nose. "A-and it's not much of a deal, little buddy-"

 "Don't call me that."

 "Right. Sorry."

 "I just want to have a c-conversation with you, okay? No tricks or ter-terms," The human clasped their hands together with a small smile, like they were taking to someone important. "Just a civil c-conversation between us, yeah? I ask you something, you ask m-me something. We both get t-t-to learn about each other, so it's a win-win for both of us!"

 Zelu took another second to mull this over. On one hand, he was being promised unlimited information and a deal without any of the harsh terms he expected, if the human was telling the truth. On the other hand, Phelix would be getting information as well, and still held complete power over everything, as proven by….earlier events. They could still change the terms or cut it off whenever they wished. They'd already grabbed him, there wasn't much Zelu had over them aside from his venom and sheer determination. Heck, they could be lying about everything. That possibility was still pretty high, unfortunately.

 ".....Fine. Deal. Just know that if you try to break it off, I will claw the skin off your fingers," Zelu growled, plastering on a look of admittedly shakey defiance. "Ask your question, human."

"Yes!" Phelix gave a little cheer, clapping quietly, but to Zelu it sounded like a war cry. The Mershark cringed away with an undignified squeak, earning an apologetic look from the human. "....sorry. J-just excited."

 "...what could you possibly be so excited about?"

"Oh, just…I've never really t-ta-talked to a merman b-before."

 Zelu chose to not correct him.

 "Alright, first question, ummm…." Phelix stuck a thumbnail in their mouth while they thought. After a few heavy seconds of chewing and thinking, the human's eyes lit up.

 "Oh! I almost forgot! I never g-got your name, little buddy. C-Can I have your name?"

 Zelu fidgeted. Bad first question. Very bad first question. Right to the personal stuff, all stops pulled. If these were siren rules, Zelu'd be dead for answering that kind of question. But he made a deal, and Zelu wasn't the kind of Mershark to break his word. From what he could see, humans didn't really have any magical powers. They were just big. And terrifying.

 "Z-Zelu. My name is Zelu," He answered, voice wavering slightly when the human leaned forward in anticipation. "Don't ever call me 'little buddy' again."

 "Zelu…" They mused, saying his name like they were trying to get a feel of how it tasted. "Interesting name! I like it!"

 Phelix gave the Mershark a hearty grin, planting their hands on their hips. "Well it's nice to m-meet you, Zelu! You were on the b-beach and now you're in my sister's fish tank!"

 "A total pleasure. I'm so pleased to meet you too." Zelu grumbled sarcastically. Why oh why did he give his name so easily? "So glad my kidnapper knows my name."

 "Okay, n-now you ask a question!" The human said happily, making the fact that they ignored the last comment known.

 Zelu thought long and hard. He contemplated asking about the room or the tank to make his escape somewhat easier (though his injuries would definitely hurt his chances). Then he thought about asking the human questions about themselves. Weaknesses, habits, that kind of stuff. So he'd know exactly how to defend himself should they inevitably turn and attack.

 "My question is��." The Mershark looked up at the human, who was gazing at him with wide, excited eyes. Zelu frowned as whatever he was going to ask disintegrated into thin air.

".....okay. First things first. Can you stop with the creepy staring? It's freaking me out."

 "Right, right, sorry. I'll s-stop staring." Phelix replied quietly with a nod. "My turn!"

 "Hold the fucking shell, how is it your turn? I haven't asked anything yet!"

  The human knitted their brows and tilted their head to one side. They made sure to keep their eyes slightly to Zelu's right. "You asked me to st-stop staring. That was a question, so it should b-be my turn now?"

 "That wasn't- augh, just forget it." Zelu grumbled with a snort. Those stories about human intelligence had to be exaggerated. That, or this one knew of the siren's policies and liked playing tricks. "Ask away, whale face."

 Phelix nodded happily and the conversation continued. It went about as well as one'd expect, Zelu answering every personal inquiry with a bladed tongue, Phelix oversharing about pretty much everything asked of them. The Mershark ended up learning a lot of things he didn't even think of asking, which was both good and bad.

 Turns out Phelix didn't own the fish tank that held him prisoner, nor did they own the fish inside. It was their sister's, who was off at a place called 'college' studying something the human referred to as 'siecologee', whatever the heck that was. Phelix also had never owned a pet or slave of any kind, dispelling yet another story about how every human kept Borrowers and captured Merfolk as servants and entertainment. It also explained the human's clear inexperience in handling smaller creatures such as himself. They claimed plants were much easier to take care of, so they never bothered trying to get an animal.

 Phelix worked as this human job called a 'cashier' at some place known as 'Cove-Mart'. 'They' were a 'he', but refused to elaborate how. He lived in his grandmother's old beach house (the human name for den), having inherited it from her after she died. Phelix's white hair and too-pale skin came from him having something called 'Albinism'. That, the human explained, was a human body condition, which meant he got to look extremely pale ("Like an anime character, b-but in real life!"), had awful eyesight (Explaining those abnormally thick glasses), and needed to slather on this ointment called 'sunscreen' whenever he went outside just so he didn't get burned by the sun.

As for Zelu, well, he made sure he told him the absolute bare minimum.

Where was he from? The river.

What was he? Your worst nightmare.

Did he have family? None of your damn business.

Was he poisonous? Yes, very, so don't ever touch me again.

Would he prefer more tuna or something else? Doesn't matter, just no plants.

Could Phelix change his bandages? For now, absolutely not. I can do it myself.

What kind of shark was he? The kind that will bite off noses if you don't stop asking such personal questions.

 Short and sour, that was how he swam, and he had no plans to change it. If the human wanted kindness or some sort of friendly attitude, they'd have to let him go right then and there. Injuries be damned.

 Yet Zelu held back his true ferocious potential. He could be talking to Phelix as horrible as he wanted, but didn't for one simple reason:

 Phelix was a human, a being hundreds of times bigger than himself. Phelix was a creature who could very easily crush the living daylights from his tiny, fragile body whenever he wanted. No matter how timid or stuttery he acted, everything about the human screamed 'massive and scary'. Sure, Phelix had outed himself as a complete emotional mess who probably would cry himself to death if he hurt Zelu, but that natural instinctual fear of the giant kept the Mershark on constant alert.

 Every gargantuan breath was noted, the heartbeat of an organ almost as big as his whole body echoing through the human's hands and into the table grounded him whenever he thought of a good insult, the slight shaking of the aquarium glass whenever Phelix shifted or changed position kept his spines raised, the rumbling waver of a giant voice stabbing through even as the human tried to keep his voice low, all the little details to remind Zelu of just who and what he was dealing with.

 So even as Phelix smiled and laughed and stuttered, Zelu kept his guard up.

 Eventually the human grew tired of their 'friendly interrogation' and the question flow petered out. After one more inquiry about Zelu's well-being and one last comment about how he seemed to be doing better, he bade the Mershark a good night and vanished into the same room he so frequently went into. Phelix had described it as his bed-and-work room, so Zelu could kind of understand why it was used so much. But nevertheless, the Mershark found the wary side of him wondering about what happened behind closed doors.

 Fortunately Zelu didn't have to think about that right now. He just needed to rest. Phelix had left a shrimp-sized roll of bandages in the water so he could re-wrap himself, and as much as he'd like to immediately, the Mershark needed to sleep. He was already many, many hours behind his usual schedule, having spent so many long nights awake and scared out of his mind. Tonight, Zelu would be able to get a full night's sleep. An uneasy one, he still didn't trust much, but a full night nonetheless.

 If Phelix was telling the truth, he'd be trapped here in the fish tank for another two weeks until he was 'recovered and r-ready to go', as the human put it.

 So again, all he had to do was wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 After he learned to accept conversation into his routine and relax a little, Zelu's final weeks in captivity went past in a blur of new information.

 Phelix actually wasn't that bad of a kidnapper, sometimes acting like his kidnappee wasn't currently being held against his will. The human shared his food, answered every question he was asked, let Zelu handle his own problems and injuries, and most importantly, he kept his huge, fleshy, clamshell hands to himself.

 Phelix even started up a trend of having lunch by the fishtank, setting his plate on the half-covered opening while he tapped away on a grey folding device for hours. He let the tiny Mershark steal as much food as he liked, since Zelu quickly made it known that he wouldn't accept anything that was directly handed to him. If either happened to be in the mood, they'd talk for a bit until one got tired of social interaction, or until the grey device ran out of fuel. The Mershark slowly found he actually enjoyed their little chats, even if the size difference made certain things difficult.

  Zelu learned that the green armor Phelix wore was actually an extra layer of fake insulation called a 'sweater', and was made of woven and dyed cloth. Zelu once caught sight of the human shedding his 'sweater' via an open door, revealing a much….rounder body shape than he expected. From a survivalist's perspective, didn't really need any extra insulation. When he politely asked about it (definitely didn't call his natural enemy fat directly to his face), the human turned a funny shade of pink and mumbled about something called 'slow metabolism'. Phelix didn't elaborate when pressed, forcing the Mershark to try and decipher the words' meaning all on his own. He didn't get much.

  Zelu actually ended up telling the human stories about his home life. Phelix mentioned knowing humans like Mala and Cain, and wasn't that surprised to hear about the Rules. He said not many humans were like him, and that whoever made up the Rules had the right idea. Phelix reacted in all the right ways, too. He laughed when Zelu told him about the time Cain mistook a mud crab for a shiny rock, and he acted impressed when he told him about his races with Mala and Kepsy, but a small part of the Mershark said Phelix didn't really believe his boasting and obviously true skill.

  Zelu in return learned that Phelix was almost called Sammy (near miss on that one, Phelix should count his lucky stars that didn't happen), as well as why the human ended up with a funny name. It was, and Zelu will quote him directly, because "My p-parents are b-basic southerners and wanted to be unique."

  Apparently the normal human spelling of the name is actually 'Felix', but his human's name got messed with for whatever reason. Zelu personally preferred the P-H spelling. More aesthetically pleasing than the first.

 Neither Phelix nor Zelu knew how magnets worked. Zelu didn't even know what a magnet was. They had a very deep discussion about it.

 Once, the human came home late and left an entire crab leg on the fish tank lid without a word. Zelu made quick work of it, dragging the massive thing into the water with his teeth like a very tiny great white. He'd never eaten that much in his life and didn't leave a single part untouched, refusing to leave his cave until he felt less like an overstuffed oyster and more like the lean, wiry shark he really was. Phelix offered no real explanation besides the mention of leftovers from a red lobster dinner party. How the human got crab legs from a lobster was beyond him, but he felt no need to ask any more questions, simply pushing the empty shells to the surface of the water.

 As for the final days with Phelix, those were punctuated by two prominent events that happened in quick succession:

 His First Escape Attempt, followed by the Time he Almost Suffocated on Phelix's Writing Desk.

 The human had made a fatal mistake that day. After their usual chat, Phelix gathered up the discarded bandages (he'd learned to change his own wrappings and let them float to the surface for the human to collect), cleaned out the leftover food from the tank, set the lid down on the table as he walked out of the room, and left behind a small glass of water not too far away.

 A simple clear cup, half-filled with tap water, sitting oh-so-close to the fish tank's right side. And behind that glass of water, just a small jump's distance, lay an open window.

 Only a fool would pass up an opportunity that big.

 And only a fool would mess it up so badly.

 Zelu made the first jump, but only after spending fifteen whole minutes thinking it over. He decided on trying his luck, there was still a small chance Phelix was lying about everything and didn't plan on letting anyone go.

 After taking a swimming leap, he burst from the water in a near-perfect arc, landing in the water glass somehow without making a huge mess. The water felt way too fresh and sweet in his gills, like he was swimming in a bowl of liquidized sugar, but it had enough infused oxygen for a thirty-minute stay. Zelu waited to recharge his tail muscles, doing small stretches to keep loose and fit for the Big Leap. One last jump out that window and he'd be home free. He shot a look at the doorway, making sure it was empty before he made his next move.

Zelu ducked down to the bottom of the tiny cup, coiled tighter than the strongest spring, heart racing against many invisible foes, filling his gills with as much water as possible….

And he jumped.

He almost made it, too.

Zelu came within inches of that white-painted windowsill, wind whistling in his ears. His claws could practically feel the cool ocean currents as he soared so close to his target…

 But the next thing he knew, his face smacked into solid glass, something in his nose popped, and he fell down, down, down onto the scratchy flower-patterned carpet.

 Zelu's heart dropped faster than his body, and it was still falling even after he hit the horribly solid ground. Warm blood dripped slowly from his face. His lungs and gills were shocked into inactivity. Not a single part of him moved. No breathing, no blinking, no twitching, heck his brain could have been knocked dead for all he knew. The window was pretty far from the ground, so he didn't doubt everything important had shattered into a million pieces. One thing was for sure, his arms felt like lead and his tail seared white hot whenever it moved, like something thin and many-bladed had sunk itself through the skin.

 The Mershark's eyes finally caught up with the rest of his brain, and he squinted. Zelu was seeing double and it really messed with his head. He laid there for who knows how long, just trying to focus on his surroundings and breathe normally. The ugly red-white pattern of the carpet seemed strangely distant, fading in and out. His brain was a camera (a human device, Phelix showed him his own once) and someone kept struggling to zoom in on a moving target. The room shifted and crossed over one another constantly. His own hands grew like, two more fingers, moving and twisting about without him feeling a thing.

 The floor shook for a spell. Zelu moved a single eye to stare up. Looked like Phelix was back. And he looked absolutely horrified, standing alone in the doorway. Zelu smirked.

Heh. If only he could see his own face right now. Priceless.

"....Holy shit, Z-Zelu!" The human cried, making a mad dash to where the stunned Mershark lay. The ground trembled and quaked, jostling Zelu's motionless body with each footfall. He smiled at the approaching giant, lack of real oxygen already making everything seem funnier than it really was.

 Phelix stopped in front of him, but didn't crouch. Somehow Zelu was high enough for a simple lean-over to achieve full looming capacity. The human's hands came up to cover his mouth in shock. "....little b-b-buddy..?"

"...don' call m' th't..." Zelu heard himself mutter. His tongue felt stuck to the floor of his mouth, words coming out slurred, nasally, and low. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he just huffed some pufferfish venom. "...'s disr'sp'ctful….."

 Phelix sighed, sending a warm breeze over the Mershark. He shuddered in response to the change in temperature.

"O-okay okay thank God, I thought y-you were d-d-dead…"

Zelu raised a hand with a groan of annoyance, letting it hit the ground again with a quiet smack. "...'m alm'st ded…f'ck'n stupid head…..get it rite..."

"Right r-right, okay, you d-do you…" The human said, making quick motions with his hands as if he wanted to do something but kept stopping himself. "Thank God I decided t-to move my d-d-desk under that window….you landed on my hair b-b-brush too.....Jesus Christ….."

 So he didn't hit the floor? Zelu shifted his head sluggishly. Apparently, yeah, he wasn't lying on the carpet. Smooth dark wood met his cheek instead of rough carpet. And his tail? That stabbing feeling came from resting on a massive brush, thick bristles digging into his rough skin. It wasn't broken, just sore. This new information eased his snail-speed thoughts a little, but he still hurt all over. Not a life-threatening hurt, just a stupid-adrenaline-junkie-who-made-a-dumbass-descision-and-is-now-paying-the-price hurt.

 Zelu snickered to himself. Something about that was funny.

"I'm g-gonna pick you up now, o-okay? A-And g-get you back to the t-tank." Phelix muttered, bringing his fingers around the Mershark. Zelu made a pathetic attempt to raise his spines, but they just twitched upward, before going back to lying flat.

  The human gingerly cupped him with shaky hands, Zelu protesting with a weak growl that sounded more like a seagull being strangled. As much as he hated being handled, he didn't do much to fight back. Zelu was way too tired for that. Besides, he knew Phelix wouldn't hurt him. The guy was really gentle compared to the other humans who first found him. Once you got past his alienating hugeness, a guppy could be more menacing. Probably more dangerous too.

"Y-You're an idiot, you know th-that?" He heard the human say while he was lifted. The motion made his head spin, but he was able to power through it. "That was p-possibly the d-dumbest thing you've d-done so far…."

 The Mershark flipped a bird in Phelix's line of sight, arms and head hanging over the edge of the palm like he was slumped over a railing, drunk out of his mind. "F'ck you."

 Phelix snorted, cringing slightly at the sight of Zelu's bloody nose steadily dripping into the lines of his hands. It looked like a bunch of red veins had shown themselves, popping out as the slow-moving ruby fluid filled in the wrinkles and creases. Zelu ran a claw through one of the lines while the human spoke, absentmindedly tracing the highlighted path. Every so often, he'd find a ticklish spot and make the palms twitch.

 "It really is though. P-playing hopscotch with my cups is j-just b-beyond stupid. The window w-wasn't even open."

 "How was I s'ppos'd t' know that?"

 "I-I don't know, by looking? You ca-can't have worse eyes than I d-do, Zee, and I haven't cleaned those windows in years!"

 "I c'n do wh'tever th' f'ck I want, 'Phee'."

 "N-no you can't!" The human shot back. "I swear, If I d-didn't move that desk, you'd have definitely either k-killed yourself or b-broken something important! Y-you can't just….d-do stuff like that! It-It's like you have a death wish or something!"

 Zelu just lazily bit him in response, letting gravity push in his sharp little teeth. He was too tired to talk or bite with any actual force. He could taste blood, but whether it was his own or the human's he didn't know. The hand tensed up and Phelix stopped moving.

"Uhm...y-you aren't venomous, are you?"

 Zelu unhooked his fangs with a tired, wicked grin. "Mmmhm."  

(He wasn't actually venomous in the mouth, but Phelix didn't need to know the finer details.)

 The look of devastation that spread over the human's face pulled a chuckle from the Mershark's throat, but it died when shock molded into annoyance. Phelix huffed something under his breath and practically threw him back into the fish tank, turning on his heel and speed-walking out of the room without a word. Zelu shouted drunkenly at the sudden action, hitting the cold water with a small splash. He righted himself and let his body float to the surface of the water, watching the human march about the house with mild interest, smiling to himself the entire time. The blood from his nose clouded the water around his head, but he didn't really care.

 The air-deprived woozy thoughts had started to clear away, but he still couldn't stop himself from laughing whenever Phelix tripped over nothing or knocked over a random object. After a while, the human poked his head through the doorway with a frown.

 "Th-this isn't funny! I-I have a very w-weak immune system!" He shouted angrily. Zelu clapped his hands over his ears at the volume, but didn't drop his smirk.

 "I was lying you idiotic sea snail!" The Mershark shouted back, sticking his head above water. "Gad, you humans are so gullible."

 Phelix's frown deepened. Zelu's voice gradually died in his throat at the look he was getting from him. The human looked like a strange mixture of sad and irritated. The Mershark shut his mouth with a click and ducked back underwater, hands coming up to pick at his wrappings. Awkward silence fell over the little room like a thick blanket of seal skin.

 "....what's with the sour face? It was just a joke." Zelu tentatively asked, poking his head up so the human could hear him. "...Do humans not have a good sense of humor?"

 Phelix huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, no, we d-do it's just….. nah, it's nothing. I'm fine. J-just a little….hurt…..I guess."

 "Well duh. I bit you." The Mershark replied. "Of course it's gonna hurt."

 "....How are you s-still able to t-talk like that after that fall....?" He heard Phelix mutter before continuing. "I mean the b-bite hurts a little, but it-it's not that k-kind of hurt."

 "Is this an emotional thing?" Zelu rested his head on the tank edge with a fake-sad expression. "What'd I do to huwt your feewings, o massive one?"

Phelix shook his head. It didn't look like the human was in the mood for teasing.

"...sorry." Zelu made a mental note to cut back on the snapping whenever he looked like this.

"You're fine. I-It's nothing important. It's stupid, really. Y-you just scared me p-pretty badly, that's all…"

 "And?" Zelu pressed.

"I...I j-just thought we made progress, y'know? And then you went a-and uh....and almost k-killed yourself trying to es-escape." The human said. "Th-that's why I'm...not in the best m-mood right now...."

 He cut himself off, shutting the door with a disappointed sigh.

 It didn't open for the rest of the day.

 Zelu was left confused for a moment, but when it finally dawned on him, he retreated to his own private room. He made the human mad, but also sad, too. Apparently humans thought a few weeks of talking and sharing food meant full friendship and trustworthiness, even if the 'friend' in question was technically being held against their will. Merfolk didn't really follow that philosophy, friendship was made through years and years of knowing each other or being raised alongside one another. Two Merfolk weren't really true friends unless they hunted or trained together frequently. Zelu understood he 'hurt' Phelix, but wasn't quite sure how to fix it. He liked the human, yes, but he liked the seaweed beds and his family better. In the eyes of another Mershark, what he did was perfectly reasonable.

  Zelu didn't leave the cave until well into the night, when he felt hungry enough to pick at his food stash.

  Phelix ended up spending his time looking over the bite and sulking in his room on his laptop, while Zelu entertained himself with pebble stacking and wordless arguments with his neighbors until they both grew tired of staying awake. Zelu wouldn't know that until much later.

 Had either of them decided to look out the window during that time, they'd have seen the large, grey fin circling the docks, before it vanished back under the waves.

 Had either of them decided to pay attention to the world outside of Spotify playlists and snappy clownfish, they'd have seen a massive shadowy figure emerge from the water and silently drag parked boats and cruisers underwater, one by one until it found the boat it was looking for.

 Had either of them bothered to stay up a little later, they would have noticed that same shadowy figure peer into the beachhouse windows one by one, before stopping at their own and vanishing without a trace.

 But neither of them did any of those things.

 So nobody noticed anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 "Today's the day!" Phelix announced, pushing open the door without any warning.

 Zelu jumped, knocking over his pebble sculpture. He groaned in annoyance, shooting the human a dirty look before swimming up the tank edge.

 "Today's the day for what." He said as he slumped over the glass edge, arms hanging over the side. "It better be important, cuz you knocked over 'Rainbow Monument part 3'."

 "I-I think it's important enough!" Phelix replied, stopping by the tank to scoop out the uneaten food that had floated to the surface. He gave Zelu a somewhat relieved smile. "You're going home today, r-remember?"

 Zelu didn't remember that, actually. But he definitely would call himself surprised to hear those words. It was shocking enough how quickly each of them got over the events of last night, they spent a full hour talking about it. A full hour filled with apologies and awkward silence. Zelu had been afraid Phelix wouldn't get over it, but based on the human’s attitude now, it looked like hsi failed escape attempt was old news by now. "Like, today? Right now?"

 "Yes today, but I don't know a-about right now. Gotta m-make sure you're actually ready to g-go 'n all." The human dumped out the soggy remains of last night's dinner into the trash can, before pulling up a chair and sitting down in front of the tank like he was ready for some big interview. "J-just a few questions, y'know? I'll start n-now if that's okay."

 For the first time in a while, Zelu let himself smile. He was going home. Like, actually going home. Phelix was letting him go, something past Zelu wouldn't believe even if it bit him on the tail. The only strange thing here was his own reaction. He expected himself to be more giddy or excited about it, but he really just felt a sense of mild relief. No over-the-top reaction, just slight internal happiness. Like the feeling you get when you're still hungry after eating dinner, and find out there's some leftovers nobody touched yet. Nothing worth shouting about, but still a nice feeling nonetheless.

 "I'll t-take your silence as a yes." The human continued, pulling up a small paper list from seemingly nowhere. "S-so, as a whole, are you feeling normal? Like, how you felt before all this went d-down?"

 Zelu gave himself a mental check over, then nodded. "I guess so, yeah. Fit enough to bite through some random fisherman's finger, if that's what you're asking."

 "Okay, good, tha-that's good...any headaches? D-Do the tank lights still seem too bright? Anything li-like that?"

 The Mershark shook his head. "Lights weren't that bright to begin with."

That was a lie, the lights sucked from the very beginning, but they're mostly tolerable now. Sunlight was way better.

 "Do you think you could take off your b-bandages without getting any blood in the water?"

 Zelu paused. "....I guess I could? Haven't….. Haven't really tried that yet."

 "Could you t-try right now?" Phelix asked. "You d-don't have to if you don't want to, I'm j-just curious."

 Zelu shrugged. He ducked back underwater and gingerly began to pull at the wrappings around his chest. They came off easily, unwinding with just a few tugs. He had to work a bit to untangle some parts, sometimes having to saw through the fabric with his claws, but eventually it all ended up in a small bundle on the tank floor. No blood or pain, which both the human and the Mershark took as a good sign. In fact most of his wounds had completely vanished, save for a few small cuts around his ribs, which were still healing over.

 Phelix smiled. "Y-you look great, Zee."

 "I always look great." Zelu scoffed in response, crossing his arms. "Just keep in mind I still blame you for everything."

 "Mhm. Okay." The human muttered, still smiling. He flipped over a page on his notes, exchanging quick glances between whatever was on the paper and whatever he was looking for on Zelu. Occasionally he stood up and looked directly down into the tank, asking Zelu to turn around or flex an arm.

 "....what are you doing?" The Mershark finally asked after another page was flipped. "You said just a few questions, not an examination."

 "W-well, I'm j-just double checking a few things. Th-things look pretty good right now, i-if that helps."

 Zelu huffed, but didn't question any further. Eventually, Phelix closed the notepad and stood up, a somewhat sad smile replacing the usual encouraging or friendly one.

  "I-I think you're good to go, b-bud!" The human said, earning an eye roll from the Mershark. He pulled himself up on the glass wall, leaning almost half of his body over the edge.

 "C'mon then, get me out of this damn tank!" Zelu demanded. "I hate this place! You, you're fine, I like you, but I don't like my neighbors at all. They suck."

 Phelix chuckled and shifted his feet, but didn't say anything else. He looked….a bit lost, really. And maybe a little confused about something. His eyes kept flicking around, and he seemed to be thinking  hard about something troubling, like a math problem or a particularly irritating roadblock. Zelu tilted his head questioningly, raising an eyebrow in frustrated confusion.

 "So ah, h-how do you want to d-do this?" He asked after a bit of (gentle) badgering from Zelu. "L-Like, do I br-bring the whole tank to the dock, or-or do I transfer y-you to a cup or something?"

 Zelu shook his head rapidly at the latter suggestion.

 "No bags, absolutely not, I don't feel like sitting a fuckin water balloon." He snapped. "And I've decided cups can go die. I'd like it if you brought the whole tank, thanks."

 Phelix nodded, but still looked a little confused and hesitant, absentmindedly chewing on his pinky nail. "B-but the tank is…..really heavy…."

 "Then use one of those wagon things you told me about! Gad, it's not that hard!" Zelu jabbed a clawed finger at the giant's face. "You better not be stalling, mister I-can't-think-for-myself. As much as I like you, I'd like to go home more."

 It was almost funny how quickly Phelix nodded and hurried off. The Mershark smirked to himself, but not in a mean way. A human, taking orders from a Mershark one hundredth of his size? And not killing him? Past Zelu wouldn't have believed it. He'd probably call Future Zelu crazy for telling such lies and try to fight him off, assuming Future Zelu was a fear-induced hallucination brought on by human drugs (which, according to Past Zelu's delusions, had been secretly mixed into the tank water). He wasn't even sure anyone at the beds would even believe him. They'd most likely pass him off as crazy too.

 The Mershark snorted in laughter. Their loss.

 Phelix came back a moment later, carrying a foam board which was attached to his wrist via a black rope. The board has images of waves and sharks painted over the front, and Phelix looked more than a little embarrassed about everything. He held it up for Zelu to see.

 "I-i couldn't find a wagon, b-but I did f-find this. It'll work j-just as good, right?" He paused, as if waiting for Zelu's approval.

 The Mershark purposely made a show of acting like he was seriously examining it, but eventually nodded. “Works just fine.”

 Phelix gave a relieved sigh, and very carefully began the slow and difficult process of scooping out the other fish, finding good places to store them until he could plug it back in, picking up a twelve-gallon fish tank, and strapping it to a foam board. It took a lot longer than Zelu liked, especially since the human, despite being massive, apparently had the average physical strength of a sun-dried sea bass. It was pathetic, but he didn't say anything about it. Zelu actually appreciated all the effort Phelix was putting into this, when he could just simply…...ignore Zelu’s wishes and stick him in a bag. It wouldn't be difficult, certainly much easier than what he was doing now. The Mershark felt a small surge of gratitude push through his mask while he watched Phelix work. The sheer amount of luck he'd gotten, having this human find him instead of literally anyone else….

 “Th-there we go…” Phelix muttered, standing up from a very strained kneel. “Is that b-better?”

 Zelu gave the human a thumbs up through the glass. He couldn't talk, the lid was strapped on when the tank had been tied to the board, so really it was the best he could do.

 Phelix nodded and gave a tired sigh, grabbing a wide vanilla sunhat by the door before beginning the slow journey outside, down the stone wheelchair ramp and over to the empty wooden docks. But he looked happy to be helping, so it lessened the guilt Zelu found himself dwelling on. Yeah, he was going home, that should be making him feel happier than ever. But….well it was stupid. The thought that he’d actually miss Phelix? Completely absurd. Nope, he wasn't sad about leaving. He wasn't feeling just a smidge guilty about being so rude or ordering that complete pushover of a human around. He wouldn’t miss talking with Phelix about topics he knew next to nothing about. He wouldn't miss learning about the human world. He definitely wouldn't miss the first non-related person to willingly spend time with him and endure his snappy attitude without making excuses to leave.

 While Zelu shook out his thoughts to clear them up, turning his gaze to the human before him. The tank shook and trembled while it glided over the uneven boards. Phelix walked on slowly, making sure to drag the mostly empty fish tank as carefully as possible, but the Mershark noticed his legs shook a little more than usual. The human kept throwing blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glances over his shoulder, and seemed to put all of his body weight onto one foot while he walked, giving the impression of a hobble. His fingers tapped against the rope as if making sure it was still held firmly in his grip, but he couldn't help but notice how Phelix kept scraping his fingernail over the same spot. Zelu could hear the human puffing quietly (who couldn’t, he was very loud even when he tried to be quiet), which made sense as he was dragging something presumably heavy behind him, but it too seemed to have a somewhat frightened shudder to it. Zelu looked over at the docks around them. It didn't take long for him to see why the human was so on edge.

 The docks were….strangely empty. From what Phelix had shown and told him, the marina usually had at least four people manning the boats or cleaning away bird poop, but not a soul was around.

Crowds were the norm, so for it to be this...dead? Weird. Very weird. Heck, the more he looked, the more he noticed there wasn't anything anywhere. No other giant humans, no squawking sea birds, no abandoned whale-skeleton boats. The marina looked more like an old abandoned fishing dock than the crowded marina of the supposed tourist town Phelix lived in. All the posts had rope and some fishing rods were still in their holders, but the massive, looming boats usually attached to them were nowhere to be seen. They reached the end of the dock, where it stopped pretty far out to sea.

 The water was mostly calm, the sun giving it a very bright blue color as the waves lapped quietly against the wood. Nobody was out on the water, no pale shapes or towering masts off in the distance. There wasn't even a cloud in the sky. Just blue above and blue below. The wind whistled faintly and the water made water noises, but it did little to break the eerie silence that had suffocated the empty marina. Phelix hesitantly knelt down and untied the tank from the board, taking off the lid. Zelu poked his head out of the water with a worried frown.

 “Are the docks usually this quiet?” He asked, not liking the way Phelix’s eyes nervously flicked about, like he was looking for something that wasn't there.

 “N-no…...no they-they aren't….” The human mumbled in response. He pushed the tank closer to the edge, the quiet scuffling of foam against wood sounding like a rumble of thunder in the silence. “I….I, uh, d-dont know….why it’s-it’s so quiet.......it’s pr-probably nothing, you should….you should g-go now……”

 Zelu shook his head and looked back down at the sea. It looked completely normal, cool and inviting, the breeze twisting up small waves so it looked like it was in constant motion. Very different from the fish tank’s artificial stillness. Humans could never truly replicate nature, even if they tried.

 Yet as inviting as the water was, there was something…..off about it. He started to understand why Phelix was so nervous, looking down into the water, hands gripping the glass tank tight enough to crack it if he were bigger. Zelu couldnt put his finger on it, but it was almost as if…..something or someone was waiting for them. Not just Zelu, but Phelix too. He could see the faintest dark shadow, the tiniest ripple of movement, the smallest hint of something hiding beneath the cover of the waves. The obscurest of signs of something lurking under the dock, waiting for the perfect chance to strike. The sea felt almost as unnatural as the silence, even as it innocently gurgled and toyed with the dock’s wooden posts.

 “A-are you…..are you going to l-leave…or-or....?” Phelix asked behind him, making the Mershark flinch.

“In...In a minute. I'm just preparing myself. Big moment, you know.” Zelu replied, but even he didn't find it convincing. Even a toddler could see how afraid he was.

 “Okay, I-I guess…..I guess that m-makes sense…...y-you sure tha-that's it?”

 “Yes I’m sure.”

 “Alright…I’ll just, uh, be over here i-if you need me…”

 Phelix awkwardly shuffled a few feet away, pulling the brim of his ridiculous hat over his eyes. He sat down and pulled his knees to his chest, suddenly looking much smaller than usual. Both knew they were afraid of something, but neither knew exactly what.

 Zelu turned back to the ocean.

 The water bubbled.

 A large ripple wiggled its way out from under the dock. Zelu’s eyes followed it suspiciously.

 Something to his right made a small wave push through the water.

 And from behind him, Phelix screamed.

 Zelu whirled around, heart rate going from zero to 100 in less than a second, adrenaline already zooming into his blood, eyes the size of scallops.

 He didn't know what he thought he was going to see, but a giant hand most definitely wasn't it.

 But there it was, a massive hand bigger than Zelu could even dream of, reaching out of the water toward where Phelix sat frozen to the spot, jaw slack, big blue eyes wide, fingers dug into the wooden dock to keep him from rolling over. Water fell from where it gathered in the webbing between the human-sized fingers, sickle-shaped claws dangerously curling inward, rough, toothed skin stretching and shifting above positively gargantuan muscles. It was bigger than Phelix, like big enough to wrap around the giant human like he was nothing more than an orange. That was definitely saying something.

 Unfortunately for Phelix, he only had a few seconds to blindly stare at the hand before it slammed down into the dock, directly over Phelix’s spot, breaking through the old wood like it was nothing more than paper. Zelu screamed, whether it was from fear or surprise he didn't really know, he just did it. He screamed until his throat grew hoarse and his gills started to burn, before self-consciousness slapped him upside the head and he clapped his own tiny hands over his mouth. It did little to muffle anything, but he didn't really care about how effective anything was at the moment.

 Zelu stared at the swirling water, at the bits of broken wood floating in the waves where a sturdy marina once was, at the exact spot where his friend was awkwardly sitting just seconds ago. Something wet was running down his cheeks. His tail was shaking violently, occasionally twitching in a random direction. His spines were stuck up defensively, but his fins pointed sharply at the ground.

“Phelix..?” The Mershark tried, voice smaller than his sanity.

This can't be happening. It wasn't happening. He was dreaming.

“Phelix?” Zelu said louder.

 The water swirled. No sign of the human anywhere.

He can’t be gone. He can't. Not that soon. Not like this.

 “PHELIX!!” Zelu outright shouted, dropping his hands from his mouth and pushing himself out of the tank as far as he could without falling. “PHELIX!!!”

 Nothing.

 Not even a bubble.

 No blood, no bones, no bubbled screams.

 Just......nothing.

 Zelu sank into the still water of his tank. He felt frozen. Someone just dumped a bucket of ice into his veins and left without a word. His brain had been replaced with a rock. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn't believe anything. His claws found his hair and pulled, like that would ground him. Nothing was real, nothing was real, nothing was real, nothing was real….

 The ocean behind him gurgled and something breached. Zelu spun around, hands in his hair, mouth hanging open like an idiot, eyes following the dark shape as it rose from the bottomless depths.

 A boat-sized head with dangerous, predatory eyes the color of mud, slick sea-greased hair falling around its face like strands of kelp, finned ears displaying a pair of sharp milky spines that sat above them, a mouth pressed shut in a thin line of terrifying indifference, no doubt filled with fangs big enough to crush a fully-grown human into nothing.

  A gilled neck and muscular torso with toothed skin, greyish brown melting into a vanilla white underbelly, a massive dorsal fin curving out from between shoulder blades the size of two great white sharks. In one arm, it clutched something firmly, the other hanging loosely at its side. More massive spines jutted out from those arms, one on each forearm, elbow, and upper arm. The spines folded neatly into each other when the arm was limp, spreading out vertically when it was bent.

 Spines just like his own.

 This beast, the same one that killed his first real friend, looked frighteningly familiar.

 Fucking Déjà Vu. Why the hell do you exist?

 The biggest giant he’d ever seen swept its eyes over the dock, locking onto the tiny tank, closed fist tightening. It lowered further into the water, fist held above water, eyes boring holes into the little shuddering Mershark. It stopped with its mouth above the sealine. Zelu swallowed, his own spines shaking harder than they ever had before. There was no way in hell it didn't see him.

 The giant Mershark opened its mouth, exposing the fangs Zelu knew were there….

 And it spoke.

 “Zelu?”

 The tiny Mershark’s breath hitched. His whole body froze up, eyes glued to the monster before him. Not a spine nor fin twitched.

 It’s voice. It’s voice, it was quiet, it was questioning, it was a voice that clearly had not been used often. He knew that voice. Zelu channeled all of his energy into pushing his head above the water.

“Ca…..Cain..?” He squeaked. The giant Mershark nodded.

“Mom sent me to come and get you.” His brother (good lord that was his brother) rumbled. “Sorry you had to see me get rid of the human.”

“Y-you...you…”

“I haven't killed it yet, if that's what you're going to ask…” Cain held up his fist. “I can do it now, if you'd like.” “What-” Zelu shoved his body up, leaning his torso out of the water to stare right into Cain’s massive face. He wasn’t really scared any more, he’d kind of gotten used to this sort of thing, living with a human and all. Cain was just five times bigger than a human, not much of a difference in his perspective. “No, I don't want you to kill him you dolt! Put Phelix DOWN!”

 His brother looked surprised, but obeyed and held his fist over the remaining parts of the dock. He opened it, and something green and wet fell onto the wood with a cough-punctured yelp. The human scrambled to his feet, sweater soaked to the bone, glasses completely gone, soggy hat clutched in one hand. Phelix’s staring gaze flicked over at Cain, then at the missing segment of dock behind him. He trembled, but did not move, feet firmly rooted to the wood, mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

 Zelu almost fell over in his sigh of relief. Phelix wasn't dead. He was incredibly shaken, but not dead. This was going to take a lot of explaining.

 “Phelix?” The Mershark tried, looking up at the smaller giant. Phelix jumped, but then collapsed to his knees by the tank, hands coming to shakily grip the sides.

“Z-Zee, Ze-Zee, wh-what-what.. what’s…” The human stammered not taking his eyes off Cain. “Wh-who... i’m c-c-cold... it's-it's... I-I d-don't- Ze-Zelu-”

“Phelix, Phee, it's okay.” Zelu comforted (well, he tried to comfort), bringing up a small hand to pat the human’s thumb. “Can you look at me for a second!”

 The human’s watery eyes locked onto him, and Zelo offered a small (kinda strained) smile. “Just focus on me, okay? It’ll probably be hard for you to forget what happened, but I need you to calm down. Nothing’s going to happen if you stay by me, alright? The stupid sea bass behind me doesnt want anything to do with you. You're’ fine.”

 Phelix nodded a little too frantically, talking to himself in breathy high-pitched whispers. He seemed lost in his own little world, kind of hiding behind the tank the best he could, eyes firmly glued to Zelu’s slight left. The smaller Mershark turned away from his friend and shot the nastiest glare he could muster at Cain, who looked very confused.

“You tamed it?” Cain said incredulously, but Zelu held up a tiny hand to stop him. In the corner of his eye, Phelix flinched.

“What the FUCK were you thinking, Cain-in-the-ass?” Zelu snapped, loud enough to be threatening, but quiet enough to not spook the human behind him.

 The larger Mershark tilted his head. “I-I was helping you?”

 “DID I LOOK LIKE I NEEDED HELP?” The younger roared back. “Cain, tell me, do I look like I’m dying?”

 Cain paused. “No…”  “Do I look like I've been tortured?”

 “N-no, you don't…”

 “Then what the FUCK did you think was going on?”

 His brother didn't say anything. Above him, Zelu could hear Phelix’s rapid breathing slow down just a little.

 “I….don't know, to be honest…..” Cain mumbled. He seemed to shrink a little. Like literally, his size reduced by a couple hundred feet. Zelu watched with wide eyes as he kept shrinking until he was about Phelix’s size, looking incredibly embarrassed now that he wasn't a huge shark-zilla.

 Well now I know what that ‘gift’ of his is.

 Cain, Zelu’s older brother by five minutes, was a size-shifter. Size-shifters were extremely rare, born with the magical ability to grow bigger than the largest whale, but at the cost of living to only two-thirds of their lifespan. Legends told of these magical beings rivalling the Gods in terms of brute strength, gigantic warriors able to turn the tides of any war. The shifter abilities mostly stayed within one species, the great Whales of the open waters, but over time, the magical gene somehow spread to the other Merclans. Size-shifters could be found in any species from any clan, but most hid their strength for fear of being kicked out or turned into a weapon. Besides, Cain had incredible power, that much was demonstrated, but he’d only grow to 30 years of age, if he was lucky.

 Zelu was reeling internally, but he made sure his anger at the older stayed in charge.

 “Exactly. You almost killed my friend over actually nothing. He was going to send me home you fucking snail-spine, and how did you thank him?”

 “..by almost drowning him…” Cain answered drearily.

 “By almost drowning him!” Zelu repeated angrily. He knew Cain was just being overprotective, but he wasn't happy with anything at this point. Phelix already had an extremely fragile emotional composition, and his bottom-feeder of a brother just stomped all over them in two minutes flat. “Apologize to Phelix right now, or so help me, I'm gonna...i’m gonna…. Ahhh doesn't matter! You will apologize!”  His brother shifted awkwardly. Phelix had stopped trembling, but Zelu could tell he was pretty afraid. The tank still shook slightly and his breathing shuddered, just not as extreme as before.

 “I...guess i’m sorry, human…” Cain muttered, wringing his hands. “For almost killing you.”

 The smaller Mershark turned to Phelix, a hand still resting on his thumb. Phelix nodded, not breaking eye contact.

 “I-I g-guess, uh, a-apology…..ac-accepted?” The human replied. He looked down at Zelu. “D-do you know th-them..?”

 “Yeah, he's my idiot of a brother. Ignore the whole size-changing part and he's harmless as long as i’m around.” Zelu explained, shooting another look at Cain. “You okay, Phelix?”

 Phelix hesitated, then nodded again. “I-I g-guess…y-you have t-to-to go with hi-him, r-r-right? S-since he s-s-said he ca-came to p-pick y-you up?”

 Zelu snorted. “Unfortunately, yeah. I do. Don't want mom to kill me any more than she would now.”  Phelix tried to offer his signature gentle smile, but it came off as more of a grimace. He already looked on the verge of tearing up, hands twitching a little like he kept wanting to do something with them but stopped himself. Zelu sighed.

 “Oh fine, c’mere you big baby.” He said, holding up his arms. Phelix hesitated, but eventually complied with the quiet confirmation.

 He brought his hands around the tiny mershark, scooped him from the water, and quickly hugged him to his chest. Behind them, Cain gasped quietly, but made no move. Zelu was about to protest at the abruptness of it all, but he stayed silent and let the overemotional human cuddle him, half-heartedly patting the soft, slightly damp fabric of the taller’s sweater. A finger was petting at his hair and he could feel the giant heartbeat thump-thump-thumping away beneath all those layers, chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. It wasn’t half-bad, to be honest. As much as the Mershark hated being held, he felt he could let this one slide. Phelix deserved it.

 “T-Times up.” Zelu muttered after they stayed like that for a good five minutes. He was starting to sweat a little, his body not used to being around that much body heat for so long. The human was like a living, breathing furnace.

 Phelix moved his hands away with a sigh. “S-sorry…”

 “Don't apologize. I gave you permission.” The Mershark shot back, but not in an unkind way. “It was….nice….anyways. I didn't completely hate it.”

 Phelix smiled for real this time. He moved to drop Zelu back into the tank, but thought better of it and instead positioned his cupped hands over the sea. He opened them, and Zelu didn't have to fall far before hitting the intoxicatingly cool water. He darted around in a few circles, taking in the wonderfully familiar feeling of seawater in his gills, something he once thought he'd never feel again. Above him, he heard Phelix chuckle quietly, no doubt enjoying the show. Cain swam up to him, now a lot smaller than before.

 “Should we head back then?” His brother asked. “Before it gets dark?”

  Zelu threw one last look at the docks and frowned. Phelix still looked pretty shaken up, the mellowness from before having worn off already. He now occupied himself by sitting on the edge of the docks, with his feet carefully under his body (away from the water), starting to wring seawater from the sleeves of his green sweater. He took off his hat and shook it around in an attempt to dry it off, which didn't really work out that well.

 "Something wrong, Zee?" Cain asked again. His size had reduced dramatically, but he still had enough inches to loom over him protectively.

 The Mershark shook his head, watching as Phelix got down on his hands and knees to sift his fingers through the water in an attempt to try and find his glasses (the human didn't know Cain had placed them in the dock behind him during their cuddle sesh, but it wasn't impossible for Phelix to not have noticed. He looked like he was enjoying himself too much to pay attention to anything else).

He really must be blinder than a starfish without those things.

 "I'll be right back. Just wanna do something." Zelu told his brother before swimming off back to the docks. He stopped in front of the human, careful to avoid the latter's hands as he stuck his head out of the water.

 "Oi! Broken nose! Your glasses are behind you!" He called out.

 Phelix jumped, but thanked the Mershark and eventually managed to find them after a little more feeling around. He stuck them on and blinked to get used to the change in vision, familiar swordfish eyes returning to his features. Zelu gave the human a brief nod and swam back to Cain without another word, before the human could say anything else.

 Cain's face said enough. Zelu punched his shoulder in irritation at the fake-adoring look he got from him.

 "No, I didn't want another sappy goodbye. Whale face couldn't find his glasses." The younger Mershark explained haughtily. "Didn't want him to spend all night combing the ocean for 'em."

 Cain smirked and rubbed his shoulder, but turned to start his path home, gesturing for Zelu to follow. The younger obliged, but not without one teensy little look back at Phelix. He got a glimpse of the human's timid smile and impossibly small wave, one hand still carefully holding the frame of his glasses, but didn't dwell any further on it. He made a point of keeping his gaze strictly before him. How that giant could rival a baby seahorse in both shyness AND cuteness was baffling. It had to be illegal. A clear violation in the laws of nature. Zelu hated it. He absolutely despised it.

 But not in a bad way.

 And knowing his luck, Zelu knew this wouldn't be the last time he saw him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[the-melting-world]

Masquerading with Magicians 🍋

Asra x Reader x Magician

Notes: Fem/AFAB MC

Warnings: voyeurism, masturbation, oral, body swapping

~ 2.5K words

You are tired of Asra’s games. 

“Come on, please tell me what it is!” You beg as you cling to his arm. He keeps you light on your feet as he pulls you down the opulent corridors of the palace. The two of you have just left one of the dancehalls and you’re still a little dizzy from it. Not to mention that you’ve had more than a few drinks by now.

Asra’s doesn’t drop his teasing grin. “I want it to be a surprise. We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?” You huff.

Asra stops at one of the many polished doors and takes out a key. He lets you inside a private chamber. Inside, the light filtering from the lanterns is pale, but soft. The walls and carpet are bathed in a spectrum of teals and cyan blues with accents of gold.

You look around in wonder. “Asra, where are we?”

He closes the two of you inside the cozy space. “Do you like it? Watch your step.” He catches you before you stumble into the shallow depression carved in the floor. It’s home to a concentration of cushions and downy blankets.

There is also someone waiting for you in the center of the nest. Like all of the guests in the palace, they wear a mask.

“MC,” they say with a delicate incline of their head, “always a pleasure.”

Then they take their time removing their mask. You blink in disbelief as Asra’s face grins back at you. 

The Magician? What were they doing at the masquerade? Unlike Asra, they were not wearing a costume.

In fact, they were not wearing much of anything.

You walk up to them and kneel down. “It’s good to see you!” You scratch behind their fox-like ears. “But what are you doing here?”

The Magician nuzzles against your hand and closes their eyes in satisfaction. “Mmm. That’s a good question.” Then they surprise you by pouncing and rolling until you’re on your back.

“Did you miss me?” They say in between nipping affectionately at your neck. 

You laugh and suddenly wish you weren’t restricted by the masquerade costume. 

“Of course I do! But will somebody please tell me what’s going on?”

Asra finally comes to your aid, laughing good-naturedly as he lifts the Magician up by their shoulders and sits them down. Once you’re all seated with your legs crossed, Asra and the Magician share sly glances before Asra starts to explain.

“The Magician and I wanted to give this to you on your birthday, but Nadia caught wind of what we were planning and convinced us to wait until the masquerade.”

You cross your arms in suspicion. “So I’m about to get a late birthday present? What’s so special that you had to drag me from the party and summon the Magician all the way from their realm?”

The almost identical magicians share another glance, but this one is hesitant. Asra nudges the Magician with his elbow. “Should I ask her or do you want to?”

You look at the Magician. “Ask me what?”

The Magician’s ears twitch in uncertainty. Their overgrown pupils search the carpeted floor for answers.

You hate seeing them so nervous. So you lean forward and take their hands in yours. Due to their otherworldly nature, you can easily feel the pulse of cosmic energy under their glamoured skin.

“You don’t have to be shy around me, Magician. Whether you realize it or not, you’re my friend too. I want to know your thoughts.”

This seems to put them somewhat at ease. Their ears stop twitching, but they flatten them to the side as they look up at you with those glossy purple eyes and say, “MC, I know that I can be a bit mercurial at times, but at the end of the day, I care for Asra. I want to see him happy. And you,” they eased into a smile, “you make him happy. It was only a matter of time before I began to care for you too.” 

You try to thank the Magician, but their face immediately sobers and they start talking fast. 

“And I know I can’t make you happy in all the ways that Asra can, but I would like to try to do so in one of the ways that I know how.”

You want to agree with the Magician, but you’re not really sure you know what you’re agreeing to.

“I . . . I’m not sure what you mean.”

The Magician lets their hands slip away from yours as they turn to hide their ever reddening face. Asra chuckles as he pats them on the back. Then he leans forward.

“What the Magician means is –”

He whispers the rest in your ear. You feel your own eyes widen and your breath catch at the revelation.

The Magician dares a tentative glance in your direction. You are so overcome with excitement and gratitude that all you can do is nod and giggle.

“Yes. Yes. Yes!”

Asra and the Magician share identical grins. You are already trying to get your masquerade costume off, silently cursing Nadia at outfitting you with something so tailored and complicated.

Asra laughs and places a hand on your knee. “MC, slow down. We’ll take care of that. You just relax and tell us what you want.”

You sigh. “Well, that’s kind of awkward.”

The Magician, comfortable now that they have your approval, lifts an eyebrow and suggests, “I can simply read your mind. It’ll make things go a lot smoother.”

You tilt your head, contemplating that option. In the end, you say, “I think I can do this.”

“Right.” Asra, who is clearly past his patience, closes the gap between you and him. “Let’s get started.”

You gently rest your fingers on his chest. He pauses before reaching your lips. 

You can feel your face heating up as you glance in the Magician’s direction. “Let them help you out of your costume, and . . .” your face climbs to a new level of heat, “we’ll see where it goes from there.”

Asra draws back slowly. “Hmph. You adapted pretty quickly.”

You give an innocent shrug, but behind your smile, it’s a different story.

Asra smirks before turning his attention toward the Magician. You’re a little thrown off by how comfortably they regard one another while the Magician works on getting Asra out of his gown.

You lean back on the mound of cushions and watch their intimacy unfold. The Magician leaves soft, lingering kisses at the base of Asra’s neck as they unclasp buttons and loosen the threads holding everything together.

Meanwhile, your hand travels under the high slit in your dress to the warm space between your legs. You’re already wet, but only a little. You try to breathe evenly and not read too much into Asra’s reactions as you tease two fingers in and out.

In what seems like no time at all, Asra’s gown is off and he and the Magician seem to have temporarily forgotten about you. It’s a known fact that Asra takes making out very seriously and when it comes to him, it can become just as intimate as making love.

You don’t mind though. Everything’s better if they don’t realize you’re watching. But it’s when the Magician uncovers Asra’s erection that makes you eager to join the action.

As if sensing your need, the Magician briefly pulls away from Asra and gestures to you. “We are being rotten hosts, Asra. MC wants to play too.”

Asra blinks rapidly, as if waking up from a dream. “MC! I’m so sorry. I just caught up –”

You crawl over to him and silence him with a kiss. The Magician is chuckling merrily in the background. You feel their hands working on getting off your costume now. You and Asra share long, deep kisses while the Magician toils away at the bodice. Soon the materials are sliding down your torso, but you hardly care.

Your breath hitches when something warm and wet latches onto your nipple. You break away from Asra to see the Magician, eyes closed, sucking and gently purring. It makes your head light.

Asra notices your interest in the Magician and encourages you to lie on your back. The Magician hovers over you and cocks their fluffy head to the side.

“I can be whatever you want,” they whisper, scanning your face for some kind of clue. Without speaking, you tentatively reach up and drag your fingertips along their chest. They give you an experimental kiss and your skin tingles as a wave of magic interrupts their glamour for a softer, smoother anatomy. Your fingers register what was once flat, lean muscle now as full and supple flesh. 

But your attention is pulled away from the Magician as Asra draws your knees over his hips and wedges himself inside you. Your body reacts to this sublime level of comfort and fit. Like ribbons unfurling for the first time, you unravel, your arms naturally stretching over your head and your spine arching by a few degrees. 

In your moment of vulnerability, the Magician takes firm hold of your wrists and bends very close to your face. “You still haven’t told me if this is the form you want me to take.”

You take a steadying breath as your eyes coast over the Magician’s soft anatomy.

You bite your lip and nod. 

Asra starts to move inside you.

“Hurry,” you whisper breathlessly, “sit on my face.”

The Magician chuckles as they answer your command. Your lips part as you and tilt your head back to receive them. They tighten their hold on your wrists. The feeling of them restraining you briefly sends your mind to a more primal place. Your eyes flutter shut as you pass your tongue along a set of vertical lips. You give another lick, sucking hard when your teeth catch onto soft meat.

The Magician inhales sharply and lets go of your wrists. They lean back and grab your hair for better control. Your mind sort of blanks as they drop their hips and take a deeper seat on your face. Your hands wander up to their ass, gently encouraging them to make the ride as rough as they want.

“ . . . Damn.”

Asra’s voice. Clearly he likes what he sees.

Your toes curl as he roughly gathers your thighs and eases into a familiar rhythm. You direct your muscles to clench hard and often. But this is difficult when the Magician is practicing their own choreography against your jaw. You do your best to keep up, sucking generously on their clit. Bathing your tongue against the wetter, more sensitive parts. Swallowing. 

You wonder if the Magician knows that their pussy tastes like cosmic foam. That it feels like little galaxies bursting into existence all over your tongue. 

The Magician calls your name. “Are you ready?” They sound delirious and out of breath.

You hum against their pussy. “Ready for what?”

A moan. “This.”

Something happens and your world tilts. 

The tiny galaxies in your mouth seem to expand and swallow you whole. You disappear inside of a black hole and are reborn through the mouth of a white one. You blink to try to clear your vision. Eventually, the disorientation fades. You are back in the cozy chamber. This time you are sitting up and you see...

You see yourself. Lying before you.

The Magician has moved to the side. Once again they are a mirror of Asra’s anatomy, comfortably relaxing back and stroking their own cock.

The other you looks just as disoriented as you feel. That’s when you notice her eyes.

They are purple.

“Asra?” you say, but your voice is not your own. Yet it sounds so familiar. 

Your copycat with the purple eyes glances at the Magician. “Did you just –”

The Magician rolls their eyes and pauses briefly to say, “Yes. I switched you. You better hurry up before the spell wears off.”

Your jaw drops. “I’m in Asra’s body?”

The Magician grins. “You’re welcome.”

Asra and you lock eyes and are barely able to contain your excitement. Without even thinking twice, you flip him over and say, “Let’s try this.”

Asra’s skin shivers in anticipation as he finds himself on his hands and knees. You don’t even think twice as you fit your cock inside of his still ripe pussy. You glide in easily, but... 

“Oh gods.”

Asra turns his face, which looks identical to yours, over his shoulder and says, “Is something wrong?”

You have to fight your eyes from rolling back. “No, no. It’s just . . . tight.”

You almost don’t recognize your own face when Asra gives one of his distinctive smirks.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

You nibble the inside of your cheek and start rocking your hips. All you can manage is a weak, “Mm-hm.”

Soon Asra gets caught up in his own new sensations. Little does he know that you chose this position with the intention of impressing him. The Magician’s soft grunts in the background motivates you to keep thrusting hard and steady into Asra’s warm pussy.

“Hey Magician,” you say, “watch this.”

You reach over just enough to fit your hand around the base of Asra’s neck. Then you whisper, “Bend down. It feels better that way.”

Asra trusts you and sinks his face into the cushions. The deep arch in his spine puts you over the edge. You hold his neck while you fuck him. And while it feels amazing on your end, the real high comes from watching Asra get off. 

“Ngnnnn,” he groans in your voice, unable to form coherent words.

You know all too well how your body reacts to this position combined with the pressure against the back of the neck. But this isn’t even the height of sensation.

It takes absolute focus to thrust, hold Asra down, and feed your other hand down his navel. With your index and ring finger, you spread apart the lips of his pussy. Then you employ your middle finger to engage his clit.

“Ah!” Asra had more to say, but it’s muffled by the cushion.

You bite your lip in concentration, knowing the trick to maximizing this sort of pleasure. Asra, though he has tried in the past, could never really get it right. You understand how featherlight your fingers have to be in contrast to the strength of your thrusts and the secure grip you have on his neck. 

Asra can’t really hold on much longer. 

You feel yourself about to erupt.

But then you are swallowed inside yet another galaxy...

!!!

“Oh. That’s – fuck!”

You receive Asra’s cum in your original body, face down in the cushions. Exactly where you want to be. 

The sudden shift back to your original bodies has momentarily untethered you and Asra from reality. You have no control over your hips as they fight to cling to the sensation. Asra’s behind you, caught in a similar puppetry, locked in a carousel of swearing.

Once again, you detect those tiny pinwheels of light emerging in your core as if some of the Magician’s magic has rubbed off on you.

Eventually, you and Asra are reclaimed by natural laws. That floaty feeling dissolves and you are lying in a heap, sweating and breathing like you nearly drowned. The Magician, who is still jacking off, waits patiently for the two of you to catch your breath.

You’re the one who kisses Asra and says, “I think we should help them out.”

He pushes the damp hair out of your face and presses a sweet kiss to your nose. 

“I agree. And then after that, do you want to . . .”

You interrupt him. “Go home, take a shower and curl up with a cup of tea?”

He playfully bumps his nose against yours. 

“Mm. You read my mind.”

[funnylori]

Baking alchemy: if the recipe says use a pan, use metal; if the recipe calls for a dish, use ceramic or glass. Otherwise you may need to adjust baking times and temperatures to get an even bake.

For example, my bread pans are glass, and that's why the inside of my banana bread is crazy moist (ie almost underbaked) and the outside is so browned. Though, using glass for pies instead of the recommended metal pans is handy if you're new to pastry. It will help you see when the bottom of your pie is truly baked. It can be dangerous to check the bottom of hot pies, so use the buddy system. Don't be spilling hot pie filling all over yourselves.

Also, know your oven. Get an analog oven thermometer and leave it in there. I used to have one I'd hang from the center rack so I had a good idea of how it was doing. My oven is hella slow on a good day. I think the element needs maintenance.

I like to use chocolate chip cookies as my gauge of how an oven is heating. The time it takes them to be perfectly baked is what I keep in mind for everything else. Normally the recipe I use says it should take 9 minutes to bake but they are still raw then. It takes my oven 12 minutes to get them browned on the edges and still have just baked but still gooey soft centers. If you're not confident about your mixing skills using store bought dough is totally okay! It's honestly easier to check temperature with dough you know is consistently made.

☆☆☆WRITE NOTES DIRECTLY IN YOUR COOKBOOK☆☆☆

You'll learn new things every time you make something. Adjustments you like. Things that work or don't work. You'll 100% forget what those are at some point and then be frustrated. Also, use bookmarks like little sticky note tabs to help you find your favorites.

Anyway, I'm making a rhubarb pie for my dad because tomorrow is his birthday. I'm not sure how I'm gonna deliver the pie to my dad safely, but that's another story. But I make pretty good pie crusts because I use my dad's recipe. It's flakey, tender, and tastes good. I hate chewy or though crusts. My dad mixes his dough so gently it's often not strong enough to actually get a slice of pie out of the pan in one piece. It tastes so good we don't care. I like to mix mine just a touch longer so it holds up better, but it's really easy to over mix it and make a tough crust.

Tonight my husband was chatting about how one of his friends was getting help making pastry for crusts via zoom meetings. He said I should make a video of mine and share it. Maybe I will if people are intrested. I can do the fancy way and the bare bones no special tools way. I like to bake and I like to make things accessible to everybody. I still wrote it out for him, you can have it too.

If you have read this far my perfect pie crust recipe is 3 parts flour to 1 part fat and a pinch of salt.

For me that's usually 2 cups all purpose flour and 2/3rds cup shortening for a single crust in my pyrex 9.5 inch glass pie pan with a little extra left over for decorating. Fruit pies need a top crust or lattice so in that case I'd use 3 cups flour and 1 cup shortening.

Blend the fat with the flour in a bowl. I use a pastry blender cutter thing (not the kind that are a bunch of round wires with a handle, but the kind that's more metal with flat blades like this one). You can also use a couple of butterknives for this. Use a twisting motion with the pastry blender to cut the fat into the flour until it's combined into about pea sized chunks. I like to scrape the blender with a knife or fork every few turns. Don't over work it or it will get tough! You want the chunks, it'll become flakey bits. There will still be some finer bits that are more flour.

Stir in ice cold water a couple tablespoons at a time until things just start coming together. Like, be cautious with the water and use a fork to combine it with the dough with kind of a whisking motion to moisten the dry flour bits and get them sticking to the floury fat bits. How much water you need varies with the weather and humidity. Definitely don't get the dough too wet. If it gets sticky you've gone too far. You only need enough water to get it all to just come together into a ball. Once it starts coming together you'll see it's kinda shaggy, that's your flakes! Gently push it together into a ball and flatten into a puck or disk. Push the edges together so it rolls out evenly later. Don't knead the dough! If it's not staying together maybe give it one or two light kneading turns in the bowl but no more or you'll get a tough crust. If it's warm or a hot day, wrap the dough in plastic and put it in the fridge for a bit. Keeping the fat cold keeps the flakes.

When you're ready, generously flour a flat surface and roll it out. If you're worried about picking it up to put it in a pan, roll the crust out in between two floured sheets of waxed paper. Beware that it'll totally still stick to the waxed paper if you aren't careful to keep checking that it's floured enough while rolling it out. I have a fancy silicone mat I got to put on my table when I roll out crusts, but it's honestly a pain in the ass and stuff still sticks if there isn't enough flour.

For sizing, hold your pie pan upside down over the crust and roll at least two inches wider than that. Drape the crust into the pie pan, don't stretch it. Lift the sides and ease it into the bottom. Wrap it a little bit over the edge of the pan and trim the excess. This recipe has a habit of shrinking in the pan, so having a bit extra around the edges helps keep it in place. Prick all over with a fork if blind baking / baking it empty, and bake at 425°F until golden brown, which is probably around 15 minutes.

For my fat I always always use butter flavored vegetable shortening such as crisco*. It tastes good and works consistently well. Butter is sometimes used, so is lard. They have different water contents and work differently so experiment with them before expecting them to work with my recipe. Shortening is solid and works good at room temperature. Butter should be worked colder and has water in it which changes how bakes turn out. I've never tried making a butter or lard for crust myself though.

My mom always made us a treat with the extra crust bits cut off from the pie pan. She'd put the funky strips on a cookie sheet and dust them with cinnamon and sugar and bake it them for us. Usually she'd forget to pull them out until we could smell them burning around the edges.

*when trans fats were banned because they're truly awful for the body, the formulation of vegetable shortening changed to include palm oil, which is so so bad for the environment and deforestation destroying orangutan habitat. It might be option for crusts, but it can have ethical issues as well. Check your ingredients and where they come from. Bob's Red Mill has an article on shortening, what it is, why you want to use it for crusts, and what it can be made of.

Anyway, I love pies and have strong feelings about crusts that goes quite deep. I can keep going, if y'all wanna know more about anything. Lemme know if you want directions to good videos or if I should make one myself. I'll post a picture of the pie tomorrow once it's set and we cut into it.

[aquariusrunes]

The Superfriends AU (part 2.5)

It had been a long day. 

That was Nino’s only thought as he laid along one of the benches in the boys locker room. His arms dangling off the side as he stared at the ceiling tiles. 

The day started out with him waking up to a text from his best friend informing him that he would not be in school for the next week and a half. Apparently Adrien’s old man had been in deep talks with some sort of fashion god from America, and now Adrien was going to be one of her star models in her next collection. 

The deal closed last night and the Agreste crew was on a jet at five in the morning to get to Steel City USA as quickly as possible. Gabriel had apparently decided it was fine to not even tell his son about it. Adrien’s text had explained that he learned he would be going to America roughly twenty minutes before they left for the airfield. 

Nino, of course, told Adrien to have a good time, keep him updated, and that he would email Adrien every assignment and all the notes he missed. And because he was a good friend like that, Adrien promised him lots of photos and a cool souvenir. 

But Nino hadn’t been prepared for class without Adrien. 

Going to class in general he rarely felt prepared for anymore. It was a full on warzone the minute the seats were filled. With Marinette and her crew taking up the back of the far side of the classroom and Lila and her girls sitting towards the front on Nino’s side. Adiren and he still have their original seats though, as did Chloé. But today, Nino was the only one in the front row. 

No one really commented on Chloé’s absence, the girl’s appearances were getting fewer and farther between as the year went on. He suspected she might be working on a transfer of some kind, seeing as how she and Lila didn’t get on well and the blonde would rather die before joining Marinette’s side. Of course everyone asked were Adrien was, and Nino happily informed any who asked. 

But then he made a mistake. 

Nino had mentioned how Adrian was going to be doing this new collection with Damian Wayne. And as expected, Lila went off. 

Apparently, Lila and Damian were childhood best friends. Her parents had known Bruce forever and the two couldn’t wait to set up their children on playdates whenever they could. In fact, Lila was practically an honorary Wayne. Bruce called her his future daughter-in-law because she and Damian were practically engaged. Though Lila wasn’t sure if she had romantic feelings for the notoriously stoic boy, he was very much in love with her. Damian had been chasing after her for years, apparently. 

Nino was so done. 

He then mentioned the campaign was for one Edna Mode. Now, Nino knew very little about fashion, he would admit this to anyone who asked. He would never pretend to know about fashion. But he did know that Edna Mode was the biggest name their was. Not only did she design the highest end clothing, she also designed superhero costumes! And she was well known as some kind of god to all in the fashion world. 

Cue Lila mentioning how she, of course, new Edna. They’d met during Milan Fashion Week several years ago. Apparently Edna drew immediate inspiration from the Italian girl. Lila had been Edna’s personal muse ever since. Edna would fly her to fashion shows all over the world. Lila would be Edna’s star model, the face of Mode, if her mother hadn’t thought Lila too young when they first met. Also, Edna liked to send her cloths, you know, Mode exclusives that literally coast more than all of Paris!

Apparently, Edna was like a grandmother to the girl.

The worst part of Nino’s day so far had to be the fact that, while Marinette’s crew tried to immediately disprove Lila’s statements, Marinette herself wasn’t in class. Nino still wasn’t sure where the girl was. He hadn’t seen her all day, and he was honestly a little worried. He texted her a few times but his messages didn’t go through. His mind was racing with possibilities of what Lila could have done. 

And now, he was sitting in the boys locker room. Alya, Rose, Mylène, Juleka and Sabrina were out in the cafeteria, hanging on every word of Lila’s story. It was about how she saved Ace, Bruce Wayne’s personal therapy dog, from oncoming traffic in Gotham City two summers ago. Nino had needed a break. And the boys locker room was perfect, seeing as all the boys Nino knew, and thus would interact with him, didn’t believe a word that came out of Lila’s mouth.  

“You look rough bud.” Nino’s head lifted slightly, seeing Kim leaning against the set of lockers to his right.

“Feel rough dude.” 

Kim laughed before sitting down next to his friend. “Needed a little break from the rat queen and her pack?” He asked. 

“Yeah…” Nino closed his eyes. “Please do not call my girlfriend a rat.” 

“Sorry.” 

The two sat in silence for a few moments. Kim was the first person, after Marinette, to find out that Nino was working undercover for the girl. He’d even changed Nino’s contact name in his phone to The MoleTM. And the two had rekindled their childhood friendship rather quickly. Kim was the person Nino had known second longest out of everyone in Bustier’s class, the first being Marinette. 

Kim also took the liberty of informing the rest of Mari’s crew where Nino’s true loyalty lied. It was nice having his old friends back, especially because he missed hanging out with the boys. Still sucked that they had to keep up an act anywhere Lila could possibly be though.

“DC texted me last night.” Kim said. “Asked me to spread the word. She’s gonna be out of town for a little while.” 

Nino slowly sat up, removing his hat as it began to fall and placing it in his lap. “Out of town?” He asked. “Where’d she go?”

“America.” 

“Dang.” 

“Yeah,” Kim scratched the back of his head. “She said that she had totally spaced about letting anyone know. Apparently she’s got a Great Aunt who lives overseas and she’s gonna go spend some time with her. She’s also gonna get to see one of her cousins. She sounded really pumped.” 

“Why didn’t she just text everyone?” Nino asked. 

“Mari said that when she hit my contact, she thought she was texting in the groupchat. She only realized after she sent it, so she quickly asked me to spread the news. Apparently she was texting from the plane before they took off. She left real late last night.” He shrugged. “Anyway, she doesn’t have international coverage, so it’s gonna be radio silence for the next ten or so days.” 

“Ten days?” Nino questioned. 

“Hey, she got permission from her parents, and all the work she’ll miss from teachers.” Kim twisted to be facing Nino directly. “More importantly, I overheard that sunshine’s gone too.” 

Nino nodded slowly, unsure of where this was now heading. 

“Adrien, despite taking a stance as Switzerland, is one of Lila’s biggest buffers. Still not sure what the kid’s got on her, but whatever it is, it keeps her a least a little in check. And with DC gone, who knows what she’ll do.” 

Nino nodded, suddenly aware of just how serious this could get. Of course if Lila said anything Mari’s crew would come to her defense, but rumors involving Marinette always seemed more potent and to have a harsher affect when the girl wasn’t around to directly defend herself. This would be a very dangerous week. 

“I’m on guard.” Nino said sternly. “Everything I hear, no matter who it’s from, is going straight to you guys.” 

Kim gave a sad half smile. “Remember when school didn’t feel like some sort of secret war?” He asked. “When all we had to worry about was if Chloé would accidently akumatize someone and if whatever they were serving in the caf was edible that day.” 

Nino responded with his own half hearted smile. “Ah the good ol days, may they return to us at some point.” 

Kim stood, patting Nino’s shoulder. “Keep us posted my dude, you’re our only life line in these trying times.” He watched his friend walk out of the locker room. He’d give it a few more minutes before he left and returned to that most cursed lunch table. 

This week was going to be hell. And something absolutely awful would happen before it was up, he could feel it in his gut. And despite what most people thought of him upon first glance, his gut was never wrong. 

He pondered briefly about what would have happened had he listened to it when the Liar first showed up. Oh how different things could have been. 

… 

His knee bounced rapidly, foot tapping against the carpeted floor of the Wayne Enterprise Jet. His fingers rhythmically pounding against the small table set between his seat and the two across from him. His green eyes glaring back at him in the reflection of the window. It wasn’t that he hated flying, or that it really even bothered him, he just enjoyed it more when he was the one in control of the plane.

He had asked, of course, but his father had said no. Even though he knew how, and his father was perfectly aware of how good of a pilot Damian was.

Yes, he didn’t like this pilot. The flight to Smallville had been fine, he supposed, they only hit a minor patch of turbulence that he was sure they would have avoided if he had been piloting, but it was fine. They had gone to Smallville to pick up Jon who was helping his grandmother with some big event happening at the Kent Farm. All the supers were there though, so when Bruce had called and asked Clark if Jon could tag along this week, his father agreed. He was already out of school anyway. 

Now they were flying to Steel City so he could be forced to model with some famous Parisian and his lovely cousin and some other girl who’s name he’d already forgotten. Damian never really modeled before, but Edna seemed confident in him. It was also an excuse to see his cousin. He hadn’t seen her in person for a long time. 

The knot in his stomach tightened and the rhythm of his fingers increased. 

Finally his ears popped, just as a hand softly rested over his own. His fingers flattened out against the table as Damian slowly glanced to his side. Sitting next to him was a sixteen year old boy who was rarely pegged for his age.

Colin Wilkes looked almost nothing like his ten-year-old self that Damian had met six years ago. The venom coursing through him had long since began to alter the boy’s body, making him function as a better host. He was very muscular, with a physique that rivaled that of a professional football player. He had also gotten taller, coming just an inch or so above Damian’s new height. Colin’s face was the one thing that never seemed to change, still round and doughy with stubborn baby fat persistently clinging to his cheeks. His tan skin coated in freckles, the number of which would very depending on the season. His scraggly bright orange hair still hung in his eyes, the bright hazel irises were currently searching Damian for something, some sort of chink in his armor. 

Colin’s eyes were very good at finding chinks in his armor. That is, after all, how they got into this whole mess.

“Everything okay Damian?” His voice was soft, it didn’t sound like it belonged in his body, but Damian knew just how low and threatening it could become. 

“Course.” Damian tried to break eye contact but found himself failing. Colin’s own eyes squinted as he pushed his bangs out of his face. He knew Damian was lying, he was good at that, he just hoped the boy wouldn’t push it. 

With a sigh the red head removed his hand. “Okay,” He breathed, standing from his seat next to the darker skinned teen. “We can talk about it later.” Damian’s eyes remained trained on him as he raised his hands above his head and stretched before saying “I’m going to run to the restroom.” 

Damian watched as Colin walked back to the jet’s small bathroom. Once the door was closed, he turned back around, immediately locking with a set of wide crystal blue eyes. “You alright Damian?” 

Why was everyone asking him that today?

“‘m fine, Jon.” He looked away from the half Kryptonian, back out the window. After many years of knowing the boy he’d discovered that Jon’s lie detector only worked when he was making eye contact with his target.

“Colin sure didn’t seem to think so.” The boy murmured. “Are you upset that I tagged along?” He asked, eyes downcast.

“Jon I invited you,” Damian scoffed out. “Why would I be upset that you are here when it was my idea?” He crossed his arms instead of going back to tapping his fingers.

“I don’t know, maybe you wanted to be alone with Colin…” 

Damian and Jon had a very unique relationship. While Colin had been the first friend Damian ever made, Jon was his second, and more importantly he was the son of Superman. Damian and Jon shared a legacy, a duty to their neighboring cities. They were both very much like their fathers, and very much stuck in the mens’ shadows. Ever since they met though, Damian found that they only ever help to pull one another out of those dark casts. 

Clark and Bruce were friends, of course, but not like Damian and Jon were. Jon, like Marinette, felt very much like the other side of Damian’s internal coin. They balanced one another so nicely. He was also one of the few people Damian actually cared for, let alone trusted. Jon was the third person he ever came out to, the first being Tim and the second being Marinette. 

Jon was also the one who encouraged Damian to pursue his feelings for Colin. That had been almost three years ago. Now the two boys were rapidly approaching their three year anniversary, and Jon was still their biggest supporter. 

The knot in Damian’s stomach tightened again.  

“I just,” He sighed leaning his head back. “You’ll be meeting my cousin.” Damian began, pausing to check and see if the boy was listening. Jon’s eyes were wide and attentive, as they typically were when Damian spoke. “She’s, very, how do I put this?” 

“Is she mean?”

“No.” 

“Hard to get along with?” 

“Hardly,” he laughed. “I’d say she’s the easiest person in our family to get along with. Easier than Grayson, and that’s really saying something.” Damian undid his arms. “She’s just got this sixth sense, she can read people. It’s eerie sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” Jon’s head tilted slightly. No matter how old they got, the half Kryptonian always had this look, it was that of a lost puppy. Tim often mentioned that it was the reason Damian decided to be Jon’s friend, because he reminded him of his animals. Jon had also filled out the older they got, taking on the more traditional physique of the super family. His face was chiseled and square, like his father’s with a softer nose resembling his mother’s. He adopted the traditional Kent glasses and was even currently wearing a red flannel, but the one thing that helped him stand out from the rest of the family was how he gelled his hair up into spikes Damian found the hair choice a tad ridiculous but often opted not to comment on it. 

“The last time I saw Marinette in person she happened to meet one of Grayson’s girlfriends. Her name was Kattie something, I don’t really remember. But I do remember how much Grayson liked her, even thought he loved her.” Damian recalled the day in his mind. “She met her for ten seconds, tops. Shook her hand, they introduced themselves, Grayson and Kattie left.” Damian’s eyes moved downwards, focusing on the table between him and his friend. “After they were gone, Marinette turned to me and told me that Kattie was cruel and would break his heart before the month was up.” 

“And?” 

“Two weeks later Grayson woke up and she was gone, along with all the money in his wallet and his credit cards. All of the watches Bruce had bought him over the years were gone too. She also took his car.” Damian shrugged. “Course, it didn’t take us long to track the bitch down, but still. Grayson was heart broken.” 

Jon nodded slowly. “You’re afraid Marinette isn’t going to like Colin.” It wasn’t a question. Another reason why Damian thought their friendship was so strong, Jon had learned how to read him. 

“It’s not that I think she won’t like him, I mean it’s Colin.” Damian’s hands pulled at the bottom of his jacket. “But, I don’t know, she’s predicted at least four breakups in my family and she didn’t even meet those people! It was just based off my brothers describing them. Hell, she even predicted Stephanie and Tim’s break up.” 

“What has she said when you’ve talked to her about Colin in the past?” Jon asked leaning heavily on the table. 

“I, well, I have talked to her about him before but, briefly. It’s not like I’ve gone into long exaggerating details about him. I’m not exactly a gusher, Jon.” 

“Well I know that.” Jon’s head tilted again. “She knows you have a boyfriend though, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“And that it’s Colin?” 

“Yes.” 

“What else?” Jon sat back in his seat, Damian could see Lois Lane in his eyes. 

“She knows how we met, that he’s a meta, and that he’s a redhead.” Damian tried thinking back to whenever he had mentioned the boy. “She knows that he doesn’t have any family ties, that I like him, and that we do vigilante stuff together.” Damian’s eyes raised to see an unimpressed look on Jon’s face. 

“You got to get better at expressing yourself Dami.” He said flatly. 

“Something I’ve been telling him for years.” They both looked up as Colin retook his seat, quickly taking Damian’s right hand in his left. “What are we talking about?”

“Noth-”

“Damian’s worried that his cousin isn’t going to like you.” Jon said, voice mostly flat but slightly amused. 

“Kent, are you aware of what my family does to snitches?” Damian asked, eyes narrowing as he felt Colin squeeze his hand.

Both of the other boys laughed. “I only ever snitch to Colin though! And that’s Colin! Usually it’s fine! And only the important stuff, I know when not to repeat you to him.” Jon’s laugh grew, catching the attention of Bruce who was sitting on the opposite side of the jet. 

“I appreciate it Jon. Your information is always good.” Collin mused. “And Dames, you don’t need to worry. If your cousin doesn’t like me, then she doesn’t like me, not a big deal.” He shrugged. “But, since it is obviously important to you, I will be on my best behavior.” Colin leaned over and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek. “Everything will be fine, you’ll see.” 

“Famous last words.” Damian grumbled out, face quickly returning to the window. While his friends laughed and began a new conversation Damian’s grip on his boyfriend’s hand tightened. The knot in his stomach felt like it was going to explode.

_______________________________________________________________________

(part 1)  (part 2)  (part 2.5) - Here (part 3)

If you have any questions about the story / AU feel free to ask! And if you want to be tagged, let me know! I have no set posting schedule I just upload whenever I get something done, I doubt updates will come this fast in the future, but it helps when I see everyone’s interest in it! Makes me really excited to write and keeps my mind flowing with ideas! Also, I know not everyone is a fan of Damian and Colin as a ship, and if that is not your thing that’s totally fine, but please do not be rude or send hate about it just because it isn’t your personal preference. 

Also this is part 2.5 because it still involves the key players for this au getting to where the story is actually taking place and I wanted to wait for Part 3 to be when they all start actually interacting with one another.

@graduatedmelon @northernbluetongue @violatiger8 @bamagirl513​ @vixen-uchiha @beaversuenightly @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @todaylillypads @laurakinneylance @vgirl-10123

[strawberry-jules]

i think i’ve mentioned my project to start dating myself and learn to fall in love with myself. i’m going to start documenting it here.

i’m in such a better place, thank god. i was really scared for myself, in a constant state of dissociation so far removed from myself i truly didn’t care if i died. i’m learning how to recover from an experience like that. i have such a short time here, i’m tired of feeling like i was feeling. i know that accepting myself as a whole and no longer projecting my insecurities on to a “person” i created in my mind (the shadow man, i’ll get to that in a minute) isn’t an option for everyone. i’m lucky in that i have a lot of choice and will when it comes to my mental health. i forget that sometimes. i always have had that ability to just choose how i’ll feel, it’s very helpful. anyway, onto my constant projection.

when i was in 4th grade, i wrote a story about the Shadow Man, a fictional character i created specifically for this school assignment. he was probably about 8 ft tall, and he was almost entirely 2 dimensional, like a cartoon, except his eyes. his head held no facial features except the sockets where his eyes would have been. two deep, somehow blacker-than-the-rest-of-his-being holes sunken into his flattened skull. he was solid when you looked at him, you couldn’t see through him. in actuality, he was a whisper of a black smoke that you could only feel near you. 

we wrote these stories for a halloween activity in class. after i turned mine in, i looked across the room to the whiteboard, my eyes passing over the window momentarily. there was a man standing at the window, his shoulders and head were the only things visible, and he had a hat with a wider brim than i had ever seen, blocking out a majority of the light trying to filter into the room. i quickly glanced back, realizing that no one could be standing outside the window looking into the classroom-- the side of the room with the window was on the edge of a sudden almost 3 foot drop, the edge of a very sharp little hill, blocked in with a fence. there was only about 6 inches of space between the wall and the drop, perhaps even less. to be looking inside the classroom, someone would have to be standing on that narrow grass ledge between the wall and the fence, or they would have to be so tall that they could stand behind the fence at the front of the school, looking inside the window. no one was that tall. by the time my eyes found the window again, he was gone.

he stayed with me for many years after that. i was 9 at the time. as a child, i would feel him with me in the dark, when i was in the bathroom and steam fogged the mirror and i couldn’t see anything in detail, when i would trek out into the woods alone and i would feel the faintest brush of his hand on the back of my neck. i was 16 when i realized that he was a manifestation of my insecurities and fears, and he wouldn’t go away until i accepted them. unfortunately, i was too young and emotionally immature to actually act on that realization. i continued to allow him to be where i projected my fears of failure; didn’t pass that test? that makes sense, i could feel him breathing down my neck, in retrospect. instances like that. 

the most intense encounters i had with the shadow man were my freshman and sophomore years of college, when i was truly alone. i had no one else to protect me from myself, and in my eyes, he took advantage of that. he would follow me home from nights i was so high i couldn’t find my dorm, knowing that i had put myself in a situation so dangerous with men i didn’t know. he would walk close enough that he could push the small of my back, urging me forward. i could hear his laughter, feel his cool breath through my hair. it became a game of cat and mouse: i would behave in a way that put me in danger, or i just simply knew wasn’t correct, and he would chase me home when i was finally alone, making me pay my penance. if he caught me, i would finally atone for my sins with my life as the payment. if i let him finally catch me and make me whole again, mistakes and emotional projections and inability to deal with sadness and anger and fear and hurt put back into me, the place where it really belonged, i would surely die. i couldn’t handle being held accountable to myself. sometimes, i would try to be brave. i would turn to face him, and he would be gone. i didn’t understand why i could never actually see him again after that day as a child. i could only feel him near me, constantly hovering, constantly watching.

it wasn’t until i came out as lesbian that i had my final encounter with him. i finally admitted to myself that i had been lying and hurting myself and pushing down who i really was, that i had been projecting my insecurities about my attraction to women onto him rather than dealing with it myself. i realized that i would never be able to accept all the bad things about myself until i accepted some real, hard to swallow truths. i’m a lesbian. i have an eating disorder that stems from control issues, more than likely due to my inability to control my sexuality. i have a hard time understanding who i am, because i never allowed myself to become myself. i put myself into a box and hid in it and never let my mistakes or real feelings near me. and that’s okay. it was my coping mechanism. 

that’s when the walls of that box fell away, and i was left with this feeling that none of it was real, and the only real thing about me was a part of my identity i had spent no time with. so i managed to push away all of the good things about myself that came from the time spent in that box, because i felt like i didn’t deserve them, that they weren’t found in an association with my sexual identity and therefore weren’t who i actually am. with that feeling came the need to deal with all the bad things about myself, too, because i deserved it. i deserved to feel that pain for how i treated myself for so long. i got so high that i felt like i went to a different dimension. i saw the shadow man. i cried and i apologized to myself for letting it go on so long, and to him for making him the pinnacle of everything i hated about myself for so long. he forgave me, and he took my hand. he gave me back all the feelings i had pushed away for so long, and i was hit by this tidal wave of love. i opened my eyes and found that i wasn’t looking at the shadow man, i was looking at myself as a child. at some point in my early childhood, i think i was about 4 or 5, i realized i liked girls, but i also realized i wasn’t supposed to. so i hid it, and found it easier to hide all the feelings i didn’t like in that little box, that eventually morphed into the shadow man. at 9 years old, i wrote a scary story that i took so much to heart, i made it a place for everything that scared me, and what scared me the most was myself and everything i thought i shouldn’t be feeling. i had protected myself from myself for so long, that by the time i made it back around to me, the damage was severe. in that moment, i finally understood self love.

it’s taken a couple days for me to realize that i’ve been projecting my anger at myself onto my dad’s family, and that’s the reason i want to stop talking to them. they’re the main reason i hid who i am for so long. i wanted to be perfect in their eyes, to gain their approval and love that i was never given. there’s a lot to unpack in that sentence, i’m not going to get into it, but just gather that my dad’s family can be very toxic and didn’t like me growing up. i finally got to a place where they would approve of me, when my life fell apart, and i was forced to come to terms with who i am. is it right of me to be so angry at them when i was really the one doing the damage? no. but do i think they should be held accountable for how they made an innocent child feel, do i think they should be held accountable for their racist tendencies and selfish world views and constant purposeful ignorance? absolutely. and do i want to be the person to educate them? not really. there are so many of them in such a deeply rooted group think, it would take more out of me than i have to offer, to try to affect actual, substantial change in them. i have so little time on this earth, i don’t want to waste it on them when i could be helping people who deserve my help. i would spend so much of my time on wealthy adults who have college degrees and are willfully ignorant and have obviously made their choices to be such, when i could be helping someone who can’t help themselves, when i could be helping the people who actually want to make a change in themselves, who are open and kind enough to put others first. i’ve wasted the last 16 years of my life trying to please them, i don’t want to waste another 16 trying to educate them. they’re big kids, they can do it themselves and join me when they’re ready, or they can stay where they are while i surround myself with people who are committed to making a change and being good people.

and i want to be tolerant of them, to be able to look at them and say, it’s okay that you’re like this. but i can’t reconcile believing black lives matter while simultaneously making an exception for my wealthy, politically influential family and saying, well, black lives matter but it’s okay that you guys don’t necessarily think that there’s any real importance behind that phrase and i’m okay with that. because i’m not! and i’m not saying that they don’t believe that black lives matter, because i truly think they’re generally pretty ambivalent toward people of color, i just know that they don’t see any validity in saying that people of color are marginalized and oppressed and disenfranchised and persecuted/prosecuted at a significantly higher rate than white people and that’s a really, really big issue. in itself, in my eyes, apathy toward racism is just as bad as being racist, because you’re being willfully and knowingly complacent in hate crimes and perpetuating a society in which shit like this has to be said. guilty by association. it’s bullshit, and i’m tired of being okay with people’s apathy because we’re related. however, i do find myself drawn back to just resigning myself to my fate with them. 

and this ties back into me dating myself. i don’t want to love someone who is so intolerant, i don’t know why i’m being so intolerant because it’s making it hard to love myself. i’m behaving like such an asshole, but i truly am stuck in such an emotional crossroads and i feel like i have to pick between advocacy and complacency, and it makes me feel so resentful toward my family for making me make the choice. why am i projecting my anger on them? what am i struggling with that i can’t get over? am i really this upset with them over their racist tendencies, or am i upset about something else and using this issue as a scapegoat? is it for how they made me feel about being gay for so long, so i’m using something else about them to fuel my anger because i’m angry and i have to feel like i have to have a valid reason to be angry? why am i not angry for myself? i don’t feel that upset when i think about how they made me feel, i’m mostly upset at myself for letting it get to me the way it did. i didn’t deserve that. i’m upset at how they made me feel, not necessarily at them. but i feel like i should be, so i’m using something else about them that does genuinely bother me as a way to cover up the fact that i’m angry that i’m not more angry and hurt, because i really deserve to be and someone needs to stand up for me because i never seem to be able to. i’m projecting my anger at myself onto them so hard that it’s hurting me. 

i don’t know where else to go from here with this realization. i’m fairly sure i just hit the nail on the head with this issue, i just don’t know how to resolve it. i guess i need to learn what family means to me first. i just wish they were better people so that i didn’t have to deal with this.

[dramallamadingdang]

Hi iCad! Hope this isn't too invasive a question, and that it hasn't already been asked/answered, but I am always so curious based on the houses you build what style of house you live in yourself? I'm always intrigued because I can sense a definite style across all your buildings, but you don't seem really skilled at building so many different styles of houses!

Brook-like babbling behind the cut! :D

Right now (though hopefully we'll be migrating at the end of this week, weather permitting), we're living in my husband's house in southern California. It's a teeny-tiny 1-bedroom box of a house. It’s just a step above a studio, but it’s more or less right on the beach. It used to be a pool cabana for a much larger property that was torn down and subdivided years ago, and my husband sort of inherited it from its previous owner.

My house, OTOH, is in the mountains in southwest Colorado. It was built in the 80s, and I've owned it since 1998. My then-housemate and I put a lot of work into repairing and renovating it because it had been neglected for a while when I bought it. It's mountain chalet style on 39 acres, sits about 300 yards/about 1/3 of a kilometer away from the road, built into a hill, drive-under with the garage plus a small, self-contained one-bedroom apartment in the basement at the back of the house and then two living levels above. It used to house eight people and lots of pets very comfortably and is now much too big for just hubby and I plus pets, but it's paid off and I ain't selling, ever. :) It's got a two-story window wall in the great room, with a big wraparound deck outside and a loft overlooking it inside, that sort of thing. It's pretty standard for newer construction in the ski resort area I live in. Probably the closest I've built to it in-game lately is...Well, the log cabin that I just built for Mustang Valley. But that's not really close.

So there's really no relationship between the house(s) I live in and what I build in the game. The thing is, for the game, I build the kind of houses that I like to play in. I mean, there was a stretch of time that I built big, complex houses (like, I built Frank Lloyd Wright's Taliesin once upon a time) and palaces/old mansions and high rises and cathedrals and stuff just for the look and for the challenge of it, but as I came to enjoy actually playing the game more instead of just building in it, I left that (and all the requisite build CC!) behind. Now I'm strictly build-to-my-playing-specifications.

For playing, I prefer simple. I like visually-attractive but small/medium-size, fairly simple, non-split-level, one- or two-floor houses. With more than two floors, I lose track of the pixels, which annoys me, so such houses are a big nope for me. Same with houses that are just really large, such that it takes a couple sim-hours for a pixel to walk from one end to the other. You will never see me build a palace or a mansion in the game these days. I'd never play such a thing, so there's no point in building one.

The other thing that's important to me is being able to use the lots that I build in any neighborhood I play. I have a gigantic lot catalog, most of which is residential lots built by me. So if I'm playing and need a house for a new move-out but don't feel like stopping to build one, I can just go into the catalog and plop something down and maybe just change the exterior color scheme and/or maybe redo or rearrange the landscaping a bit...or maybe not. This means that 90% of the houses I build are built on a flat lot (including beach lots; I flatten beach areas so that I can easily reuse beach lots I've built) and in a narrow range of architectural styles. Bungalows, cottage style, cape cods, craftsman style, classic American Midwestern farmhouses (because that’s what I grew up in *laugh*), prairie-style, the occasional foursquare or log cabin. Never elaborate "Victorian" or Second Empire because I can't stand those styles IRL and wouldn't want to look at them in my game. :) I like visual cohesiveness in a neighborhood (Yes, I know that's not realistic :) ), so if my lot catalog consists of lots in only a handful of styles that visually work together, that means I can reuse houses just about anywhere. Occasionally I branch out and do boxy modern or southwest adobe or even mid-century style here and there, sure, but I do have a "core style" that I mostly stick to because my ultimate goal is reusability.

And because I like simplicity when it comes to actually playing, I don't bother with things like walk-out basements, or other things that would require a lot of digging around in the terrain. I don't usually build houses into a specific neighborhood's hilly terrain because that reduces reusability. So, I'd never build my own real-life house that's built into a hill with a daylight walk-out basement. I love my house, but because it has three living levels, I would totally hate playing a Sims version of it. *laugh* I also don't often bother with doing complex things with CFE, aside from simple things like garages attached to houses on foundation, for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that it makes it difficult to alter the house if needed. I also don't enjoy playing in basements in TS2, so I don't generally build houses with basements unless I have a VERY specific use in mind for one, like a vampire crypt or something. Again, it's not because I can't do those things. I can do (and have done) anything that it's possible to do in the game, building-wise. I just don't often want to because doing those things results in a house that I don't enjoy playing and/or a house in a style that just wouldn't blend in with everything else I build.

So yeah, I've evolved into a pretty boring builder, all in all! :) I like what I like, both in terms of style and playability, and that's what I stick with.