#but James has that covered and i have feelings about selkies

[mysunfreckle]

If you still need prompts to keep you sane maybe fluffy fantasy au enjoltaire? (Idk if you've seen the siren Enjolras and nymph grantaire posts but you can do something along those lines if you want it's up to you) thank you for literally everything you've written because it's amazing and thanks in advance!

I haveindeed seen (and loved!) @stopcallingmeapollo‘s myth au! Which actually made itrather a puzzle to come up with my own… But that gave me an excuse to daydreamabout folklore for days, so thank youso much anon, for your incredibly kind words as well! I hope you’ll like this

( @petalparnassee you have given me fresh Scottish lore and now look whathappened:)

Grantaireis lying on his stomach on a flat rock that rises just above sea level, his lowerhalf still comfortably in the foamy water. It’s early in the morning yet,the wisps of mist that drew  from the seatowards the shore have barely dissolved. Through the faint haze that is stillleft Grantaire sees a shape approaching. It’s a black stallion and the gate of his hooves is like poetry itself. Blinking lazily Grantaire watches himapproach the shore. He is too familiar with the elegant movements and the prouddemeanour to be impressed. The cobbles on the beach skit away or are trampledunder the gleaming black hooves and the horse charges straight into the water.Grantaire doesn’t bother to watch the proud head disappear underneath thewaves. A moment later there’s a splash of water beside the rock he is restingon and two pale hands grip the edge. Montparnasse pulls himself up out of thewater, his dark hair wet and slick against his head.

“Show off,”Grantaire hums.

“Goodmorning to you too,” Montparnasse snarks. He sits down with his legs crossed.

In the greylight of morning his skin looks even paler than it is, but Grantaire knows thelighting doesn’t matter. Montparnasse will always be annoyingly beautiful.

His greyeyes are staring of into the distance. “I saw someone walking towards theshore,” he says nonchalantly.

Grantairemakes an exasperated sound. “I swear, if I have to rescue one more of your stupid victims I’m telling Jehan.”

Montparnassemakes a tutting sound. “This one isn’t really my type,” he says airily.

“That’ll bea first,” Grantaire grunts. He splashes his heavy tail in the water, makingMontparnasse glare.

He ignoresthe insult however and continues casually: “Too blonde for a start… To loud… Tointerested in you.”

Grantairegulps and nearly rolls off the rock.

Montparnasse’sdistinctive kelpie laugh sounds loud and neighing across the water.

“Enjolras is on his way here?” Grantairesplutters. “Why didn’t you just say that, you ass.”

“I wasgoing to,” Montparnasse sniffs. “You were the one that decided to be rude.” Helets himself slide smoothly off the rock and allows the waves to carry him fora moment so he can shoot his most annoying grin at Grantaire. “Good luck, seal-boy.”

He divesunder water before Grantaire can either answer or lash out at him. AnxiouslyGrantaire directs his gaze towards the shore. This is ridiculous. Will he evernot be nervous at the prospect of speaking to Enjolras? Because it’s thespeaking that’s the problem. Seeing him is fine. Grantaire used to watch himwander along the shore, collecting pebbles for hours. But that was before heactually met him. Before Enjolras noticedhim. There is a jolt of nerves in his stomach as his eyes finally discern ashape in the distance that might be Enjolras. Grantaire watches it approachuntil he is sure. It only takes the morning sun throwing one rosy ray on thefigure’s head. Golden locks gleam like yellow flames and Grantaire knows it canonly be Enjolras. He slides off the rock, his round body moving with as muchgrace as Montparnasse’s lanky one and swims to the shore with a effortless preoccupation. As soon as his tail brushes the loose cobbles of thebeach his sealcoat unfurls from around him and two feet offer him stability.Grantaire follows the rolling waves onto the shore, wrapped loosely in hisfurry pelt. He would rather wait for Enjolras like this. Transforming before theeyes of someone else is unnerving to him. He sits down on a boulder resting very nearthe water that is big enough to seat two and turns his head towards the walkingfigure. He takes a deep breath and raises his arm in a wave.

“Grantaire?”a melodic voice calls out.

“Who else,”he calls back, thankful that his voice displays more confidence than he feels.

Enjolrasspeeds up and Grantaire smiles when he is near enough for Grantaire to hear thepebbles clinking in his pockets. Enjolras has a relatively hard time repressinghis hoarding tendencies.

“I didn’tknow if you’d be here,” Enjolras says, almost apologetically. “But you usuallyare in the morning so…”

“It’s veryearly,” Grantaire points out. “You must have left before sun-up.” Waking upwithout the sun on his face is distasteful to Enjolras, Grantaire isn’t sure hehas ever seen him this early in the day. He gives Enjolras an enquiring look.“Wait…did you even sleep?”

“I did!”Enjolras protests. He sighs. “Just, not a lot?” He sits down on the boulderbeside Grantaire.

Grantairelooks out across the beach, watching the waves break on the shore. “Didsomething happen?” he asks.

“No…”Enjolras says slowly.

Grantairenods and waits. Enjolras lives in the small town nearby. Lots of people there.People that, kind and understanding as they may be, still get freaked out bythings they did not expect to see. Maybe that’s why Enjolras rambles around thefields and over the beaches so much. Maybe that’s why when he’s talking toGrantaire-

“It’s justfrustrating!” Enjolras bursts out. “I mean I like it here. And it’s great having to not, you know, hide who Iam. It’s definitely better than the city but-” He gestures in frustration. “Nowit just seems like I’m dealing with stupid stereotypes every other day. Why thehell would I care whether someone isa virgin or not?”

Grantaireis very happy Enjolras doesn’t expecthim to actually answer that question, because it took all his self-command to notaudibly choke at that sentence. It’s not that he minds, he just didn’t expectthe conversation to take that turn. Enjolras luckily doesn’t notice his temporarydistraction and swiftly moves on to other grievances. Grantaire doesn’tinterrupt him. Enjolras clearly needs to vent.

AndEnjolras does vent. He vents until sparksstart flying from his mouth and thin wisps of smoke crinkle from his nose everytime he exhales in a huff. Grantaire feels the heat that always radiates aroundEnjolras growing stronger and he silently basks in it. In the water he is nevercold, but on the shore he is. Enjolras pours his heart out until his fire literally spills from his lips.

“Sorry,” hegulps, shutting his mouth in embarrassment.

Grantairelaughs softly. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “You bottle stuff up too much.”He’s painfully aware of how much that is the pot calling the kettle black, buthe carefully ignores that.

“I know,”Enjolras sighs. He glances sideways at Grantaire and gives him a slight smile.“Thanks for listening.”

“Thanks forwarming me up,” Grantaire quips.

Enjolrassmiles a little wider. He looks a lot better now. Less at war with himself andthe world in general. “How have things been here?” he asks after a while.

“Wet,”Grantaire says seriously.

Enjolrasmakes a sound hallway between a laugh and a scoff. “I’m serious,” he says.“Talk to me about what bothers you for a change.”

Grantairegrimaces. “Kelpies,” he says decidedly. “Kelpies bother me.”

Enjolraslaughs. “Why?” he asks.

Grantairepulls a dramatically incredulous face. “Have you ever met a kelpie?”

Enjolraslaughs again and this time Grantaire can hear the roar of fire and the clink ofgold echoing in the back of it. He grins and thinks it’s a pretty fantasticalthing, for a selkie to be able to make a dragon laugh.

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 15

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite

Previous Chapter: Chapter 14

Next Chapter: Chapter 16

Will covered his face with his hand. ‘I do not understand why after yesterday you’d want to return to the woods,’ he said. ‘Well, I understand the recklessness of some of you, but I was expecting a little more sense from Alastair.’

Lucie had to agree that if any of them had the common sense not to run towards danger, it was Alastair.

‘If we do nothing, we stand little chance of saving Thomas,’ Alastair said, his voice betraying no emotion but he did seem a bit stiff.

‘Excellent point. I’ve heard I am to congratulate you, by the way, Alastair. And Thomas too, of course. Here I was hoping that after James and Cordelia broke up, I’d have another chance for a Carstairs in the family with you and Lucie.’

Lucie wished she could disappear. She deeply regretted telling her father about her crush on Alastair, almost two years ago. Nowadays, she realized she’d probably just looked up to him, she had been grateful for the way he’d defended her. She had liked him better than most boys in school, and had mistaken that for a crush. However, when it came to boys in school, the bar was on the floor.

Alastair, for his part, looked horrified. ‘That will never happen. I’m gay.’

‘So am I!’ declared Lucie. She figured this was as good a time as any to bring it up, and she’d been meaning to tell everyone anyway.

Everyone stared at her. Alastair looked amused. ‘Well, that is one way to come out. Congratulations, Lucie.’

Her father looked surprised. ‘Really? You always told me about boys you liked.’

Lucie shrugged. ‘Yeah, that’s weird,’ she said. ‘I think at some point I started looking at girls and realized what I felt for boys didn’t really compare.’

Lucie wasn’t sure that made sense, but on the internet she’d discovered plenty of lesbians had had crushes on boys before realizing. Feelings were confusing for sure, and the longer Lucie thought about it, the more she began to understand those oblivious book characters who were obviously in love but had no clue.

‘I didn’t realize,’ Will said. ‘But I’m glad you told me. Can’t wait until you tell us about any girls you like.’

Considering her father’s fondness for the Carstairs family and how determined he was to bring one into the family, Lucie wasn’t sure telling him how she felt about Cordelia was a good idea. She didn’t doubt her father would think it a good idea to help, which would end in disaster.

Lucie felt that was enough said about the topic for now. ‘Back to our plan,’ she continued. ‘We need to find the selkie skin, which according to our source is located in the woods, in the land in between. The same place Alastair and Thomas ended up finding yesterday. There was a trap door they couldn’t open, but cortana could cut through the lock, so that’s our way in.’

Lucie didn’t mention the minor risk of getting trapped all the way in the realm of the thief of souls. Nor were they completely sure the trap door hid the selkie skin, but it had to hide something interesting, right?

‘Hold on, whose selkie skin, and why?’ Will asked.

Cordelia summarized last night’s visit. ‘Grace needs that skin, or she will be forced to use her power on us. Even if our plan has its risks, the risk of doing nothing is falling under the spell of a siren.’

‘I thought you said she was a selkie,’ Will said.

‘Something in between, I think,’ Cordelia said. ‘She is a selkie, but she has the voice of a siren. Something about myths being muddled. I don’t know, I can’t say I have much experience with the lovely ladies of the sea. That’s what she called herself, by the way.’

Lucie had to admit Grace was indeed quite lovely.

Will sighed. ‘I guess you’re right that someone has to go. I’d do it myself, but there must be a reason she asked for Cordelia specifically and I don’t have any weapons. But I do want you to be back by dinner. Now hurry before Tessa, Gideon or Sophie learns of your plans.’ A playful smile appeared on her father’s lips. ‘And if anyone asks, this conversation never happened.’

Lucie quickly put on some walking shoes, heart beating fast until the four of them were out of sight and she was sure her mother couldn’t stop them anymore. Her father might be lenient when it came to recklessness, but her mother was not.

‘If anyone gets mad at us, I’m definitely blaming your father,’ Alastair announced.

‘That’s not fair,’ Lucie protested. ‘He covered for us.’

‘Let’s just focus on our mission,’ Thomas offered. ‘Yesterday, we took this path and it took us to the ruins.’

She followed Thomas and Alastair, who remembered how they’d come upon the ruins yesterday. It was a nice route, Lucie had to admit that, with a small pond on the side. In the end, after a long walk by Lucie’s standards, they exited the woods back where Lucie had entered to follow Tatiana, at the side of the village.

Lucie frowned. ‘Are you sure that was the right route?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t see any ruins.’

‘Perhaps the entrance is somewhere different today,’ Thomas suggested. ‘Maybe we should go back and try another path.’

After trying several paths and walking for hours, Lucie was getting tired. She wasn’t used to taking walks this long like Thomas and Alastair were and she was pretty sure she had blisters on both feet. Determined not to complain, she trailed behind the two boys, who kept exchanging longing stares. They really were adorable together. Thomas at some point took Alastair’s hand in his, which caused Alastair to stop in his tracks. Lucie nearly bumped into him.

‘Why isn’t this working?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Well, yesterday was the first time we found the ruins,’ Thomas said. ‘Before that, the forest was normal. Apart from some gnomes, things like that. Nothing unusual, at least. Perhaps today, the gateway isn’t there. Or perhaps there’s another trick to reaching it.’

‘Is there anything we did different yesterday?’ Alastair wondered.

‘We didn’t intend to find the land in between,’ Thomas said. ‘What if we cannot find it now that we’re actively looking?’

‘Then how would Tatiana find it?’ Alastair asked. ‘If that’s where she hid Grace’ skin, she can’t have stumbled on the ruins by accident like we did.’

‘Could be part of the deal she made, her learning how to come there,’ Lucie said. ‘Is there anything else you did differently?’

‘We were there earlier,’ Alastair added. ‘Thomas decided to sleep in today, whereas yesterday he and I went into the woods early in the morning.’

‘I think I was on my way there when I followed Tatiana,’ Lucie added. ‘When I returned, Cordelia said I was gone for an hour when it didn’t feel that way, just like you were gone for a whole day.’

‘I’m not sure stalking Tatiana until we can follow her there is such a good idea,’ Alastair said. ‘Perhaps we should try it again tomorrow morning.’

They tried again the next morning, and then in the evening for a short walk, but no result. She had patched up her feet with blister band aids from her mother’s first aid kit and kept going, even if her feet were still hurting and it was getting worse. It wasn’t the time, it turned out, and Lucie started to get frustrated. Grace hadn’t come back, and how were they supposed to get her skin if they couldn’t get back into the land in between?

The third morning, after another fruitless attempt to find the land in between, her mother was waiting for them in the hallway when they returned to the house.

‘Where have you been all morning?’ she scolded.

Lucie realized none of them had a good excuse for this morning. Most of the time, no one had noticed them return, and they had been ‘reading’ the whole time in their bedrooms. At least for Thomas and Alastair, it was believable that they’d want to spend time together in a bedroom “reading” any time of the day. She looked around to see if anyone would come up with something. At least Cordelia was a decent liar. But no one offered a believable excuse and Lucie had no inspiration.

‘We were looking for a way back into the land in between,’ Lucie said, deciding not to reveal her father’s role in their adventures. ‘But we couldn’t find it. So no harm done, we weren’t in danger and the only injuries sustained are my blisters.’

Her mother sighed. ‘You’re just like your father, Lucie. But I’d hoped some of you had more sense.’

Her mother looked at Alastair, her expression stern. ‘I thought you could be a voice of reason among them, Alastair. I don’t understand why you’d do something so reckless. Promise me you won’t go into the woods again.’

Lucie agreed that out of the four of them, Alastair probably had the most common sense, but it was almost painful to see Alastair respond. Lucie knew her mother often came across as harsher than she meant, but Alastair probably didn’t. His face went blank, he retreated back into his shell. Lucie might not have noticed anything was wrong if Cordelia had not looked so concerned.

‘I’m sorry to have disappointed you, dr. Gray,’ he said and before anyone else could say anything, Alastair disappeared inside, presumably to his bedroom.

Her mother had a PhD and did all sorts of medical research, Lucie knew she liked it when people called her by her title, but at the same time she’d hoped Alastair was close enough to her parents to call them by their first names.

Thomas and Cordelia also made their way inside before her mother could get angry with them too, Lucie remaining behind.

‘It was for Thomas,’ Lucie said. ‘We needed to find the place in between again. We needed to find Grace’ selkie skin or else Tatiana will force Grace to enchant us with her voice.’

Tessa sighed, putting her hand on Lucie’s shoulder. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Lucie? We could have gone in your place.’

Lucie figured she shouldn’t tell her mother her father had encouraged her to go.

‘I didn’t want you to put yourself in danger,’ Lucie said. ‘Cordelia has cortana, Alastair has his memory, so they had to go. I think you’ve upset Alastair, I better go check if he’s alright.’

Tessa sighed. ‘No, I will check on him. You’re right, I was too harsh on him. I didn’t consider… Never mind, I’ll go. But don’t think you’re out of trouble, young lady. You’re not leaving the house until otherwise specified.’

Lucie groaned and went inside, taking off her shoes and replacing the patches on her blisters. She had a pair of fit flops she could still wear, and Lucie decided that even if those shoes weren’t the most suitable for the forest, she would wear them for their next walk. If she was ever allowed to leave the house again, that was.

She wasn’t sure where Cordelia or Thomas had gone, upstairs to find Alastair? Perhaps she should join them, but her father found her first.

‘Tessa caught you,’ he concluded, sitting down next to her.

Lucie made a face. ‘Now I’m not allowed to leave the house.’

‘I’ll talk to her,’ her father promised. ‘Have you found anything yet?’

‘No,’ Lucie said. ‘I don’t understand why. Thomas and Alastair one day walked into the land in between on accident, but now we can’t find it and it’s frustrating and my feet hurt and these blisters are bursting open.’ She paused. ‘Did you see where Thomas and Cordelia went?’

‘Upstairs,’ Will said. ‘I’m thinking they’re talking to Alastair. He seemed rather upset. Is everything alright with him?’

Lucie sighed. ‘I think it’s something mom said. She didn’t mean to hurt him, but because he’s the oldest out of the four of us and definitely the one with the most common sense, she said that she’d expected more from him.’

She couldn’t explain it exactly, she didn’t always understand what upset Alastair. But she suspected Alastair felt like he didn’t deserve to be here, or that her parents liking him was very conditional. Perhaps in Alastair’s mind, all love was conditional, and any mistake he made meant he’d lose someone’s love. Lucie was trying to understand what was going on in his head. As a writer, she should be able to understand how people thought and why they did what they did. As a friend, she should be able to offer support. She wasn’t sure she was doing a good job with either.

‘I imagine that’s difficult for him to hear,’ Will said. He sighed. ‘This is all my fault. I’ll talk to your mother, and tell her I encouraged you to go.’

‘Mom will be very mad with you,’ Lucie said.

‘Now she’s angry with you, and I deserve it more,’ Will said. A playful smile lit up his face. ‘Besides, you’re not little princess Lucinda who needs to be locked in a tower, that’s for sure. What’s life without a little risk?’

Lucie wondered if he’d feel the same way after facing her mother.

She went outside into the garden on her fit flops to feel the sun on her skin after reapplying sun screen. The weather was nice today, not too hot, a soft breeze against her cheek, and only a few clouds in the air. That could change any moment though, Scotland was known for is changeable weather. A good atmosphere for a nice romantic scene, or bonding between friends or family. Or just fun scenes that might not need to be in the book but balanced out the dark ones. Lucie felt a book should be balanced in that sense. While she loved drama and darkness, she did not like gritty stories where everything was dark and terrible. She liked to balance out the darkness with a sweet romance or gentle characters still remaining kind and hopeful in the worst circumstances. Or characters who might have turned bitter, but were trying to be better. Thomas had a bit of a weakness for those, which totally wasn’t because that archetype resembled Alastair.

The garden still counted as the house, right? She suspected Thomas and Cordelia were both still with Alastair and she didn’t think it would be a good idea to join them. She didn’t know Alastair as well as Cordelia did, she feared she’d only say the wrong thing. Besides, Alastair didn’t seem to like people taking care of him or fussing over him, Cordelia had told her she sometimes had to force him to let her protect him for once. Lucie feared her mother’s comment had reinforced some deeply held belief of his that he was worthless, even if she had never intended to make him feel that way.

She wondered how she’d never seen something was not right at the Carstairs home. Cordelia hadn’t either, but she remembered how when she was young, Cordelia would sometimes come to her for sleepovers, whereas Cordelia’s parents had rarely invited her over at their house. Of course, when she was little Lucie would get homesick and preferred having sleep overs at her own house anyway, so it had never bothered her.

And when Lucie was little, her father would always come sing her a Welsh lullaby. He was Welsh through his father, whereas the house here in Scotland had been in her grandmother’s family for some time. He was a horrible singer, and it was hilarious how he kept trying and did not care what people thought. It was sweet and Lucie had always felt safe and protected when her father came to tuck her in and sing his horrible songs. Cordelia had told her it was usually Alastair who sang her good night songs and tucked her in. That had made sense too. Alastair had a beautiful voice after all, and who wouldn’t want to listen to him sing? Back then, Alastair had seemed much older and wiser than the two of them, but really, he’d been a child too.

And Cordelia had regularly had to cancel plans because her father was sick and she couldn’t leave him. Lucie had understood, although the disappointment never quite faded. But when Lucie’s father was sick, he might whine and moan like a typical man flu patient and complain that he needed uncle Jem’s care and support, but he would never have asked Lucie to choose taking care of him over spending time with the few friends she had.

None of those things had struck her as odd in childhood, but now she was thinking maybe they should have. Maybe someone should have seen something was not right at the Carstairs house. Perhaps then Alastair wouldn’t be in so much pain now.

‘Lucie!’

Lucie looked up, but didn’t see anyone calling out her name. Nor did she recognize the voice. It was a smooth, feminine voice.

‘Over here!’ the voice hissed and Lucie followed the sound to the trees and recognized Grace.

‘What are you doing here?’ Lucie asked.

‘Tatiana left me alone. She didn’t realize I had enough free will left to come here.’

‘I’m sorry, we don’t have your skin yet,’ Lucie said.

Grace rolled her eyes. ‘I know. I’ve seen you walk in the woods once or twice. Honestly, that was embarrassing.’

Lucie frowned. ‘How so?’

‘You never even opened the gateway,’ Grace said.

‘How are we supposed to do that? We’re not Tatiana!’ Lucie exclaimed. ‘And Alastair and Thomas entered the land in between by accident.’

‘It sucks people in sometimes,’ Grace said. ‘But rarely by accident. Alastair was targeted when he and Thomas came there, Tatiana found out he has a memory ability and she thinks he’s a threat to her plans. I think she’s scared her brother will remember something. That’s why the werewolf was after him.’

Lucie frowned. ‘They know about that?’

‘Yes. But they do not yet know about you,’ Grace said. ‘I figured it out when I realized you could see Jesse. You better get my skin back before she realizes what you are. She’ll want you dead for sure.’

‘What I am?’ Lucie asked.

‘You have power, Lucie,’ Grace said. ‘You’re a witch.’

‘No, I’m not,’ Lucie said. ‘I just see ghosts. That’s all.’

‘I know you see ghosts. You talked to Jesse. Do you have any idea how rare that ability is?’

‘I’ve never met anyone else who could do it.’

‘Exactly!’ Grace exclaimed. ‘You have no idea what you’re capable of. You can open a gateway into the land in between. And even more important, if you find yourself trapped you can open the way back.’

‘How do you know?’ Lucie asked.

‘Because I have heard legends of one other person like you. A witch who was born centuries ago. She wasn’t like other humans who used magic, she used dark magic, but hadn’t acquired it through a deal and there was no price to pay to something powerful. As a little girl, all she knew was she saw ghosts. And when ghosts stayed around her, they became stronger. But she learnt there was much more she could do and grew stronger. She learnt to open those gateways and use them as a weapon, she learnt to control the dead.’

Lucie was horrified. She could do such things? ‘What happened to her?’

‘As a woman of her time, and an odd one at that, she was treated badly of course. At some point she snapped and became a dangerous, evil witch. Who can blame her, honestly. She was defeated by the ancestor of the Carstairs, the one who carries cortana. Before he could deliver the killing blow, she jumped into the sea and drowned herself. She lost her dark magic, but came back to life as a daughter of the sea, a mermaid. She repented, changed, and lived her life peacefully in the sea. That is how we know her story.’

Lucie frowned. ‘I don’t want to be an evil witch,’ she said.

Grace’s grey eyes were cold and void of emotion. ‘Then don’t be. Just because magic is dark doesn’t mean it’s evil. Be a good witch or a neutral one or whatever you want to be. But you can’t change that you are a witch, and I need you to find my skin. You, the bearer of cortana, and the one with the memory. Without you it can’t be done. But you need to know what you can do, you need to open a gateway.’

‘How?’ Lucie asked.

‘It’s your power, not mine,’ Grace said. ‘Go figure it out. I need to get back before Tatiana realizes I am missing. They say when the witch wanted something, all she had to do was ask. So be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.’

[corolune]

Breathing Underwater / Chapter One — Zephyr

AO3 / Tumblr Alex had always known he wasn’t like other children. They didn't hear the song of the ocean in their ears, or feel the thrumming rhythm of the waves in their hearts like he did. Then he finds a silvery coat made of seal fur, glistening and calling him to slip it on — and everything he thought he knew about himself washes away like foam on the sea. Alex Rider is a selkie, and this is the story of how a seal becomes a spy. Prologue 〰 Chapter 1: Zephyr 〰 Chapter 2: Nimbus

zeph·yr — a light wind from the west.

Alex Rider was seven years old when he learned that none of the other children heard the ocean’s song in their ears. A half-formed rhythm that beat in time with his breath, the way the Thames rushed in tune with the hustle and bustle of London.

Mrs. Smith held her finger to her lips, quieting the loud chatter of the class, and beckoned Katie to continue her show and tell.

“And this one,” Katie held up a large, spiralling shell in her hands, “is called a conch shell. When you hold it up to your ear, it sounds like you’re at the beach! It has ocean sounds in it and it’s really really cool. Miss, can I pass it around, for everyone to hear?”

“Yes, you may, but we’ll have to be quiet so we can hear the ocean waves, right class?”

As the shell made its way around the circle of children, Alex leaned into Tom and whispered, “Why would you need a shell to hear the ocean? I can hear it just fine wherever I am!”

Tom shot him a curious look from under his curly, dark fringe. “Yeah, you can imagine how it sounds, but with the shell you can really hear it!”

Alex furrowed his brow, shaking his head, but decided to wait and see what exactly this ocean sound was. The others oohed and ahhed excitedly, holding the conch up to their ears, and soon enough it was his turn.

Tom bounced in place, eyes going wide as he handed the shell over to him with a grin. Cupping it gently to his ear, he listened and waited, but there was nothing other than the sound of air rushing through the twists and turns in the spirally shell. Squeezing his eyes shut and clapping his hand over his other ear, he strained his hearing, but it still sounded nothing like the ocean.

When he blinked his eyes open, it was to Tom’s concerned look, and his neighbour poking his arm.

“Come on Alex, it’s my turn!” James whined, as Alex continued to stare at the shell in his hands. He passed it over to him, leaning over to Tom.

“That didn’t sound anything like the ocean.”

“What are you talking about, mate? That totally sounded like waves on a beach!”

“Waves? But the ocean sounds like a song Tom, and there’s just air in that shell!”

Mrs. Smith cleared her throat, and Alex realized that his whisper was perhaps not much of a whisper after all. “Would you boys like to share what’s going on?”

“Sorry Miss,” Alex mumbled, as Tom continued to glare righteously at him.

“Tom? Is something the matter?” Mrs. Smith raised her eyebrow pointedly.

“Sorry Miss, it’s just that Alex said the shell doesn’t sound like the ocean at all!” At this, the rest of his classmates' voices rose into a rumble and Alex’s cheeks grew pinker by the second.

“It sounds like waves, I suppose, but not like the ocean,” he tried to explain.

“But waves are the ocean!” James exclaimed, while Crystal gasped at him. “If it sounds like waves, it sounds like the ocean,” she said.

Alex sunk deeper into his seat and vowed to never bring up this topic again. Never ever. Especially the bit about the ocean song, which Tom teased him about for weeks afterward.

〰〰

Alex spent his days doing schoolwork, playing football, and sneaking onto the tube with Tom to go to the shops downtown. He learned to avoid other topics, too, like how Ian left him alone at home, or in a hotel when they were on holiday. Or how sometimes, Ian would come home from work trips covered in bruises and scrapes. He made friends easily enough, and then Ian hired Jack to keep him company. It helped him forget that feeling of loneliness that hovered over him like a rain cloud, as if there was something he was missing, like the melody of a song he couldn’t quite remember.

Sometimes, when he was alone at night, he stared up at the stars from his little window and wondered what his parents were like. He barely remembered much of when he was little. Sometimes he thought of the light on the surface of the sea, reflecting into the water below where kelp waved in giant fronds. He remembered cold air on his face and the smell of salt. His parents must have loved the sea, to have taken him to the beach as a baby.

The months passed by, and he got a new bicycle, learned Jack was terrible at cooking, and finally watched the X-Men films Tom had been gushing about. Soon enough, his tenth birthday had come and gone, and summer was upon them.

When the high tides came, at his uncle’s lake cottage in the country, Alex’s blood thrummed hard in his ears. The dark night blanketed the small hamlet, an inky sky bleeding into the city lights that he could see far into the distance. A little lake, too big to be a pond, rippled in the balmy breeze as he lay propped up on his elbows in the grass nearby. If he closed his eyes he could hear the water’s shush-shush-shush in time with his heartbeat.

He was a city boy, but something about the vast, empty lake called to him. He supposed other ten year olds would feel a bit frightened, left alone in the wilderness for hours, where the nearest city was a half hour’s drive away. He never liked the country very much, not when he and Ian went into the woods or hiked up a mountain. But here, there was something that quelled the itchy feeling that had him feeling lost, like he was holding a puzzle piece that wouldn’t fit.

When he heard the car rumbling on the dusty path, he rolled onto his knees and peered over the cattails in the moor. Ian was back from his trip into the little town, and maybe now he would finally stop being so mysterious and tell him the real reason they were here.

“Alex! Come and help me with these,” Ian called, opening up the boot of the car.

Scrambling down the grassy knoll, Alex reached him to see old crates and crumbling piles of paper amongst the grocery bags.

“What’s all this? Where’d you get all this old stuff?”

Ian smiled crookedly. “Help me haul it inside and I’ll tell you!”

The crates were splintered and creaky, rocking with every step on the uneven cobblestone of the driveway. The papers were bundled into musty files, but between the two of them it was short work to gather everything into the foyer of the little cottage.

“So did you drive us up here to go to an estate sale or something without me? Bet I could have found something a lot cooler than some old paperwork.” Alex grinned as he put down the last box.

Ian chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t buy any of this. Lucky for me no one had come across it yet.”

He pried one of the crates open. Inside, there were soft cotton dresses, yellowed with age, in floral prints and geometric lines in vibrant colours.

“These things, they’re your mother’s.”

He blinked, looking up sharply.

“My mum’s? But...I thought there wasn’t...” Alex stumbled over his words, confused and hopeful all at once. “I thought there wasn’t anything left of hers,” he finished in a soft, timid voice, feeling something pull at his chest. He ran his fingers over the soft fabric, trying to remember his mum’s face. The smell of sea salt wafted up from where he shook out the folds. A large seashell, curved into a spiral, fell out as he lifted it away, clattering onto the wooden floor, and he reached after it. In his hands, the shell was smooth.

“I didn’t think so either,” Ian said. “But last time I came up here, remember I had to check on some things for our holiday?”

Alex nodded, the sound of his blood rushing in his ears like the thrum of the ocean.

“Helen—your mum—she had a safe in the little bank in town. Just by chance that the man there recognized the name Rider, good thing we weren’t playing disguises, eh?”

Alex had moved onto untying the twine from the bundles of files. The folders were dry, caked with dust, and brittle. The papers inside were less dusty but equally crisp with age. Inside they held an eclectic mix of newspaper clippings and postcards, photographs of people he didn’t recognize, and pressed flowers. Little mementos of a life lived, a life that Alex had had little chance to wonder about.

His parents had died in an accident. But in him now, seeing these objects that his—mum—had once lovingly saved, a spark flared into a hopeful warmth. He read and read his mother’s journal until his eyes slid shut, and he felt Ian lift him up and tuck him into bed. He dreamt of Venice and Prague, of coffee shops and delicate flowers blooming under gentle care. His dreams were full of strange people and stranger plots surrounding both his mum and his dad.

〰〰

The next morning when he woke, he could feel the ocean’s rhythm in his ears, louder than it had ever been before. He stumbled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, to see Ian already awake and halfway through his toast.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Ian said around a mouthful of crunchy bread.

Plopping into a chair, Alex stole some from the pile for himself, spreading a very generous amount of jam onto his piece.

“Hmmm,” he hummed. The jam was really very good. Actually, now that he thought about it, he felt very good too, light and happy for the first time in, well, a long time. If he concentrated hard enough, he could even make out words in the usually jumbled melody in his ears.

Come...sea...little...

He chewed over this development as he finished breakfast, glancing at the crates and papers still piled up in the foyer from the night before. There was just one box he hadn’t gotten to before falling asleep — it was sealed shut so tightly that he hadn’t been able to pry it open by himself.

Ian noticed his gaze. “We can bring those with us for you to keep, when we drive back home.”

“Yes, I’d like that,” Alex nodded. “But I didn’t get a chance to look inside that one, can you help me get it open?”

Without noticing it, he found himself in front of the small box and running his fingers over the little notches in the wood, as if he’d been pulled towards it. A dull rhythm echoed in his ears like a siren song.

Armed with a sharp knife, his uncle pried open the lid. Whatever was inside was wrapped in packing paper and plastic, and an unassuming beige envelope rested on top. “For Alex R.,” it read in curly script, and the back of it was sealed shut with a sticker in the shape of a round, pink heart.

Ian leaned over his shoulder, humming with interest at this new mystery. “I’d reckon your mum left you this, Alex. Strange that I never came across any of this when you were younger.”

“You mean this is all a lucky accident? If we hadn’t come here...if you hadn’t gone to that bank, I wouldn’t have ever gotten any of this?” It wasn’t the first time Alex had had this thought since Ian first told him what he’d brought, and it seemed a little too much like coincidence.

“Perhaps, but then again, maybe she’d assumed you’d go looking for her things one day or another. Either way, it doesn’t matter — go on, open that envelope, I’m dying to see what’s inside just as much as you are!” Ian grinned, and Alex could feel the excitement rolling off of his uncle, who was always thrilled to play detective. Truth be told, he was excited too — it wasn’t everyday that he discovered an old family treasure.

The sticker peeled open easily, its stickiness long since disappeared. Inside, there was thick, creamy stationery paper, folded into thirds, and something shifted inside with a dull clinking sound. A golden chain slid out, flowing into his palm like liquid metal. Tiny shells dotted the chain and a small seashell hung from the middle.

“I remember that necklace,” Ian said thoughtfully. “I only met your mother a few times, but I can remember her wearing it — the seashell opens like a locket, I think, though I can’t recall what was inside it.”

Alex was more interested in the letter than a piece of glittering, girly jewelry, and he was happy to hand it off to Ian to inspect. Unfolding the elegant paper, he shouldn’t have been surprised to see his name on it, but he still couldn’t hold back a small gasp. The curly letters were undoubtedly his mother’s.

Dearest Alex,

In this box is something that has been yours since the day you were born. I’ve kept it safe and hidden, and hopefully you will find it one day when you need it. I wish that I was able to share this with you, face to face.

You must know by now, that you are different from other children; I am sure you never had to be taught to swim, and that the waves call to you in a way unlike anything else. You make friends easily, and others are charmed by you when you smile. You get those traits from me.

There is something else you get from me, too. Like me, you are a selkie, and your life is equally in the sea as it is on land. The sealskin in this box — this is yours. Wear the coat and you will swim as a seal, slip it off and you will walk once more.

Make sure to never lose your skin, always keep it safe and hidden, always keep it a secret. If you lose your skin, you must find it before someone else takes it and holds power over you.

My mother gave me this necklace, and now I’m giving it to you—a rare shell that will be a compass to your coat should you ever lose it. I hope that one day, you will find someone you trust with your life, someone you can share your secret with.

I love you with all my heart, my darling son.

Your Mum,

Helen R.

With slightly watery eyes, he looked up to see Ian nonchalantly trying to read the letter from where he sat next to him. Nothing in the letter made any sense to him—he’d heard of selkies of course, but the idea that his long lost mother was a seal was so weird that it passed right over his head. Distantly he noticed Ian taking the letter from him to read properly, but Alex was too much in the midst of an identity crisis to notice.

The soft, crinkling sounds of paper roused him from his circling thoughts. He turned to see Ian crumpling up the packing paper and tearing open the thin plastic that covered the contents of the box, tipping it over.

Soft, white fur with patches of grey unfurled onto the floor, somehow familiar, beckoning Alex. Something in his chest unfurled along with it, and for the first time that feeling of something missing, that yearning for something more, dissolved like foam on the sea. He ran his hands through the short, white fur, and knew that this was what he’d lost, and now found.

“This is yours,” Ian said.

That night, as Ian sat at the dock and Alex, clad in the silvery fur, dove into the cold lake water shimmering with moonlight, everything he thought he knew about himself washed away.

← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

[annecoulmanross]

Spooky Ask Meme

I was tagged by @sailingsouthernseas – thank you! These answers have possibly gotten a little strange but also it’s very late at night and I think I’ve seanced myself into some unholy union with Lady Jane so here we are. 

1. Pumpkin: Favourite season?

I pretend that I like autumn for the aesthetic.... but during the spring I can physically feel the seasonal depression lifting from my cold bones like a ghost that has been at last freed from this earthly realm and can finally translate itself to a sunnier place. 

2. Ghost: Do you get scared easily?

Not particularly. Most physically threatening situations that typically scare people hold no fear for me: I like high places and dark places and caves and especially underwater caves that hold a high risk of death. I suppose there are probably other things that scare me but I’m much more alarmed by very tangential hypotheticals, like what if there really is an afterlife where you get to meet all of the famous dead people you’ve loved, and I get to go there but Cicero doesn’t like me?  

3. Candy Corn: What's your favourite kind of candy?

Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. 

4. Vampire: What is your favourite supernatural creature?

I can’t possibly choose. Dragons, selkies, and ghosts, in no particular order. 

5. Witch: If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

The ability to understand and communicate in every human language ever. 

6. Trick or treat: What was your favourite Halloween costume?

Every year I imagine I’ll finally put effort into making an elaborate Halloween costume, and every year I slip even further from the platonic ideal, which was my Halloween costume when I was six months old: I was a chili pepper. 

7. Black cat: Are you superstitious?

During the spring of 2016, I picked up the habit of knocking on wood whenever someone asked me about my future plans, because I’d applied to study abroad but I didn’t know if I would be accepted. Fortunately, I got into the program and went to Italy and – not to be hideously pretentious and basic – but it quite literally changed my life and set me on the road less-travelled-by that I’m currently walking, and so I’ve been just a bit superstitious ever since. 

8. Ouija Board: If you could change your name, what would you change it to?

Oh I’ve had different names in the past and I’m sure I’ll have different names in the future. Nomina are slippery things. 

9. Graveyard: Do you know any good scary stories?

Several. That being said, I’ve been told my cannibalism story is “disappointing” and “anticlimactic” and “not worth waiting through the entire second act of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar for.” 

10. Skeleton: Have you ever broken a bone?

Never once. 

11. Werewolf: What is your favourite urban legend?

Stories of tunnels under the city are, without a doubt, my favorite things. 

12. Horror flick: Do you like scary movies? If so, which one is your favourite?

I like horror films with a message, though my tastes tend to be very mainstream in that regard – Get Out, Cabin in the Woods, that sort of thing. 

13. Haunted house:  Would you prefer to live in the city or the country?

Absolutely the city. I could possibly do to live a little further from the city center than I do right now, since the pandemic makes it a bit hard to leave my apartment, but I still vastly prefer the urban center to the hill-towns and mountain hermitages where my family all currently live. Those are lovely for holidays but they quickly drive me crazy. 

14. Zombie: Do you think that you could survive a zombie apocalypse?

Not with my current equipment. If I took a few precautions, yes, probably. 

15. Cauldron: What kind of potion would you make if you had the opportunity?

Semantically speaking, how does a potion differ from a super-power? What domains do each cover, and are there any things I can accomplish with one but not the other? I’m officially over-thinking this. 

16. Full moon: Do you prefer nighttime or daytime?

James could not possibly have put it any better: “Daytime if I’m left alone.”

17. Corn maze:  What is your favourite autumn activity?

That time in late autumn when they finally FINALLY start selling eggnog in the stores and people complain about how it’s not even December and it’s too early for the winter holiday foods to be on sale, but I buy up all the eggnog and go find texas toast and bring it home and make delicious eggnog french toast.

18. Broomstick: What exciting places have you travelled to?

If my life has had one truly perfect moment, it was during a freezing cold November morning in Benevento in Italy, when I could see my breath in the air when we tumbled out of the bus, and everyone was shivering and sleepy so they sent us out to find something warm to drink before class, and I wandered into a bar and bought an Italian hot cocoa (read: a cup of pure melted chocolate) and a beautiful sfogliatella pastry, and then I sat at the counter and watched the sun finally lift itself over the rooftops and pool in the piazza in the center of town where all the leaves had begun to fall to the ground at last. 

[ericsonclan]

A Test of Courage in the Woods

Summary: Some of the monsters decided to do a test of courage in the woods late one night.

Notes: Wrote this for @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale October challenge for Day 5: Walk in the woods.

Read on AO3:

“So, remind me why we’re in the woods in the middle of the night?” Violet looked over at Clementine with crossed arms.

“Because we all thought it would be fun to do a test of courage,” Clementine replied simply.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Louis jumped forward with his hands outstretched. One of his hands nearly popped off but luckily the young frankenstein caught in time. “It’s gonna be fun!”

Clementine smiled over at the frankenstein, her nose crinkling in amusement.

“Yeah, nothing bonds monsters like a test of courage,” Sophie smiled over the werewolf.

“Sure,” Violet responded.

“So, why these woods?” Prisha had a curious expression on her face.

“Well,” Clementine took a step forward, “Rumor has it that in these very woods a killer resurfaced a few years ago. All the humans warned young and old to steer clear of this place, but especially teens who seemed to be the killer’s true targets.” Clementine tried her best to amp up the spookiness in her voice.

It seemed a few monsters were falling into her story. Brody moved closer to Mitch while Minnie seemed to stay close to Sophie. But perhaps the biggest reaction to her tale thus far was from the young frankenstein who let out a fit of giggles.

“Hahahaha, that’s a good one Clem!” Louis had his hands on his knees and wiped away a mock tear. When he looked up, however, his nose scrunched up in confusion. “Why is everyone staring at me? Is one of my limbs missing?’ Louis spun around widely, his dreadlocks bouncing this way and that with his speed.

“No, we're just confused.” James’ soft voice broke everyone’s attention away from the frankenstein and towards the cyclops. “Why were you laughing?”

“Because killers aren’t real,” Louis stated it in a matter of fact tone as if he had just given the most basic of common sense.

All the other monsters glanced around at each other.

“What?”

“Killers are real,” Omar commented as he pushed his way to the front. “There have been many unsolved cases over the years all throughout West Virginia.”

Louis’ face became deathly pale. “What? I just thought it was something humans added to the movies to make them scarier.”

“No, they’re real.” Minnie scratched the ground with her talons.

Louis stood frozen for a second until he felt Clementine’s hand on his shoulder.

“Louis, if you want to sit out of the test of courage, it’s okay.”

“No!” Louis shook his head violently back and forth. “I’m gonna do it!”

“Alright,” Clementine searched the frankenstein’s face for a moment then continued on with her story. “The tale goes that the killer lures teens into the woods at night to kill them and finally have company in this forest,” Clementine gestured at the woods. “Human or monster, he doesn’t care as long as he has his victim.”

Suddenly Aasim’s flames burst out of him, shooting high in the air and turning a light, faint blue. Ruby and Marlon jumped back from the fire elemental.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Aasim’s flames faltered down but still held their color.

“Maybe it would be a better idea if you walked outside the perimeter of the woods,” Prisha offered. “It would be a shame if we caused a forest fire.”

“Yeah, gonna have to give you the boot, buddy,” Louis flashed an apologetic smile.

“Maybe you’re right,” Aasim seemed a bit disheartened. “But it’s rude to completely exclude Ruby and myself from the test of courage!”

“What does Ruby have to do with it?” Brody poked her head out to look over at the fire elemental.

“N-nothing. Forget I said anything,” Aasim’s fire round his cheeks crackled and popped as he looked away from the group. But that only seemed to cause the group to become more interested.

Louis especially seemed invested in the potential romance between the fire elemental and dryad. “Oh, do tell, Aasim. Do you like Ruby?”

“What? I… ummm.” Aasim’s flames were a deeper blue now.

“Now y’all leave him be,” Ruby butted into the circle around Aasim.

“Why are you getting so defensive, Ruby?” Mitch smirked over at the dryad. Everyone was jumping into the conversation except Marlon who sidestepped the group and made his way to Sophie whose head was tilted as she listened intently to the heated debate. With all this talk about crushes, he figured he might as well see where he stood with the harpy.

“Sophie,” Marlon tapped Sophie’s shoulder, causing her feathers to stick up and ruffle. She looked over, a pleasant smile appearing on her lips when she noticed the dullahan. “I just wanted to ask, well…” Marlon scratched the back of his neck. He was chickening out. What if she didn’t feel the same? “ What are we?” Marlon froze when he realized what he said. His hands held the sides of his head to keep it in place; he could feel it slipping.

Sophie seemed to take the question seriously, debating on what to answer when she finally chose her response. “We’re bros,” Sophie hit her fist to her heart and then gave a sideways peace sign.

“Oh, yeah.” Marlon looked down; he could feel his heart tightening. He kept his view on the ground for only a few seconds before forcing a big smile. “The best!”

“Hell yeah!” Sophie extended her fist which Marlon met in an instant. The harpy chirped happily when he did so. “Wanna partner up for the test of courage?”

“Sure.” Marlon smiled at the harpy before looking over at the group that was settling down. It seemed that Clementine had shut down all the badgering that was directed at Ruby and Aasim and was working on what pairs would go into the woods together. After a few minutes the pairs were decided. Mitch and Brody along with Marlon and Sophie would go through the furthest entrance. Violet and Prisha as well as Minnie and Omar would take the middle. And Clementine and Louis with Jesse and James would take the left entrance.

“You sure you’re okay with staying outside the forest?” Brody glanced back at Ruby. “You were really excited about it.”

“Aww, don’t worry about me. I just wanted to give Aasim some company and to make sure he didn’t get lost going around the long way.”

“Alright,” Brody gave Ruby a quick hug, “See you at the finish line.” Ruby returned the hug and soon the selkie was off, jogging over to Mitch and intertwining her fingers with his.

“Okay everyone, good luck!” Clementine called out before walking forward into the woods with Louis who seemed a fair mix of excited and nervous.

Aasim and Ruby watched the others disappear into the forest, not talking until they were all gone. “Are you sure, Ruby?” Aasim glanced over at the dryad. “I know how much you love walking amongst the trees.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Aasim, but I’m alright. I can still walk beside the trees and get to be with you.”

Aasim’s fire grew at those words, a happy smile on his face as he reached into his fireproof messenger bag. After a few seconds he pulled out the container of fireproof blue gel, handing it over to Ruby. She covered her hand in it first before Aasim did the same. Cautiously they held each other’s hands. Excited, giddy smiles overtook their faces when it worked. It was a miracle each time to simply be able to hold each other’s hands. Ruby and Aasim started their stroll along the perimeter of the woods. Ruby walked alongside the trees, her free hand brushing against the low hanging branches while she talked with Aasim.

“I almost blew it today,” Aasim shook his head. “They were quite persistent.”

“They were giving us both a hard time, but we are hiding our relationship.” Ruby glanced over at her boyfriend who looked saddened by the whole thing.

“I know. I just want to make sure that we can make this work without hurting you.” The flames on Aasim started to pick up height, swirling and dancing in the air. “That and I have to talk to my parents and you have to with yours and-” Aasim stopped when he felt Ruby’s hand give his a gentle squeeze.

“It's gonna be alright. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Together,” Aasim took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Let’s focus on our time together.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ruby swayed her and Aasim’s hands slightly as they continued their walk. “So, any idea who’s gonna reach the finish line first?”

“Probably Jesse and James or maybe Prisha and Violet.” Aasim placed his hand on his chin.

“That would make sense. But it could always be an underdog team like Mitch and Brody.”

“Perhaps or…. No.” Aasim shook his head.

“What?”

“I was going to say Sophie and Marlon but Marlon can get spooked easily and Sophie can well…”

“Be a bit of a scatterbrain.” Ruby chuckled. “She sure can. I bet she’s gonna get distracted by the woods.”

----

“Oh, hold on Marlon,” Sophie’s voice made the dullahan stop as he looked to see the harpy fly up and sink her talons into a tree branch. With a few happy tweets she let herself fall upside down and swing back and forth.

Marlon chuckled and looked at the harpy. “What are you doing, Soph?”

“Sorry, I just needed to do it once. I can’t resist a good tree branch. But I promise this will be the only one.” Sophie gave an apologetic chirp as she shook out her feathers. A few loose ones fell to the ground. Marlon shook his head but he had a happy smile on his face. A smile that made the harpy’s heart race quicken. Sophie stared at the dullahan for a moment. Why had she been so stupid? She had been given the perfect chance to share her feelings. But instead she said they were bros. Marlon seemed happy with it though. So maybe her feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated.

Sophie shook herself out of her thoughts and swung herself upwards. She would just be the best bro ever then. Flying over and landing beside Marlon, she continued through the dark woods with him. They walked in content silence for a few minutes. Both of them didn’t seem too spooked yet. Although they would have to be careful to make sure Marlon’s head didn’t fall on the ground whenever the spooks did get to them. Sophie glanced over at the dullahan then back at the forest. “I got worms.”

“Excuse me?” Marlon looked over in confusion.

“In my pocket,” Sophie dug her hand into her pocket and revealed some pink worms that squirmed in her hands. “Y’know, for a snack. Want some?” She held out her hand with a casual grin.

“Oh, no thanks,” Marlon replied then glanced away.

Sophie looked at the dullahan then back at the worms. Great going, Sophie! That’s not how to be a good bro! Of course he didn’t want worms. He probably thinks eating bugs is weird.

“That’s cool. I’m not hungry either.” Sophie lied, stuffing the worms back into her pockets. Before Marlon could speak otherwise to her statement, the pair was cut off by the loud growling sound of the harpy’s stomach. Marlon and Sophie looked down at her stomach then at each other. Sophie gave a nervous laugh.

“Wow, ummmm….” Sophie’s eyes searched desperately for anything she could use as a topic. “Let’s take the right path!” She pointed her finger towards the right side of the woods.

“You sure?”

“Yep, right is always right! Right?” Sophie flashed a goofy smile.

Marlon gave a good natured laugh. “Okay. Y’know you could always fly above the tree line and find the best route.”

Sophie felt like an idiot for not thinking of that obvious solution. “Nah,” She waved a hand dismissively. “Where’s the excitement in that? Besides, it’s more fun to wander the woods with you,” She playfully nudged the dullahan’s shoulder, “Bro.”

“Right,” Marlon led the way, leaving Sophie alone with her thoughts. The harpy glanced up to the sky and wondered if it was the better call to just fly up and see the finish line.

------

“I think I see it,” Omar glanced up at Minnie. A few loose red feathers fluttered past Omar and down towards the trees below. The harpy and brownie bobbed slightly up and down with the beat of Minnie’s wings.

“You sure?” Minnie tilted her head as she looked down. A small bubble of anxiety was still in the pit of her stomach at putting this idea in action. Sure, she was careful with Omar and made sure her talons weren’t applying any pressure to the brownie, but she also had to make sure she wouldn’t drop him.

“Yes, if we take the left path for most of the way then veer right, we should make it out of the woods.”

“Okay, down we go then,” Minnie gently glided down towards the solid ground. A relieved twitter escaped her lips when Omar had successfully gotten to the ground safely.

“Good work,” The brownie held up his hand. Minnie leaned over ever so slightly and high-fived Omar.

“Yeah, go team!” Minnie cleared her throat. She hadn’t spent too much time alone with Omar, but from their shared Home Ec class he always seemed cool.

“Shall we?” Omar gestured to the left path.

“Yeah, let’s kick the other teams’ asses!” Minnie crowed and led the way. Omar jogged beside her, his feet softly pitter pattering on the dirt. He gave a soft laugh.

“Yeah, that would surprise them.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, we’re clearly the odd ones out in terms of why the others paired up.”

“True. But we’ll win and show that friends can win.”

Yeah,” Omar smiled up at the harpy. “The unlikely duo of a harpy and a brownie.”

Minnie returned the smile then looked back at the path. Both of them walked in silence for a little while before Minnie decided to start up a conversation.

“So….. Omar, why do you like cooking?” Minnie paused at her own question. It felt like such a stupid thing to ask a brownie.

Omar didn’t seem to view the question that way though. Instead of being annoyed or upset by the simple question, he gave it serious thought. “I like it because of the joy it brings.” Omar had such a gentle smile on his face as he spoke. “To see how happy my cooking makes others. It makes me feel happy. Feels like I have a gift worth pursuing that I want to pursue not because it’s something my fellow brownies say I should do, but because I want to.”

Minnie’s eyes widened, surprised by the thoughtful response. “Wow, shit. You’ve really thought it through.”

“I spend a lot of time with my thoughts,” Omar shrugged. “What about you, Minnie? Got any hidden gifts?”

“Well, ‘gift’ is a strong word. But I love singing. I wanna pursue it but I don’t know,” Minnie shook her head. “ It may just look fucking stupid to be known as a giant bird who sings.”

“I don’t think so.”

Minnie’s eyes shot over when she heard Omar’s statement.

“I say if it makes you happy you should pursue it.”

Minnie felt her heart warm at the brownie’s words. “So,” Minnie redirected the conversation. “Think anyone else will use their innate monster abilities to get to the end?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

-----

“Don’t worry, Jesse. I’ve got heightened eyesight,” James reassured his boyfriend who walked beside him. “So I won’t let anything happen to you now that-”

“Now that I’m basically blind,” Jesse sighed, his black snakes curled around the gorgon’s face, hissing softly as they searched the darkened woods. The world was already tinted darker to Jesse thanks to the special sunglasses he had to wear in order not to petrify others. But now that it was late at night, in the woods, with barely any natural light… Well, he might as well be blind.

“You’re not blind because you have me,” James smiled warmly over at his boyfriend and was met with some annoyed hisses from the snakes. “And your snakes.” The snakes moved back and forth, clearly happy with James’ correction. “Just follow my lead and everything will be okay.”

James strolled forward only to stop when he heard a soft thud beside him. Looking over, his eye grew large when he noticed that Jesse had faceplanted onto the ground. It seemed that he had tripped over a rock. A rock that James hadn’t seen.

“Jesse, I’m sorry!” James kneeled down to help up his boyfriend. “I didn’t see that rock.

“I figured,” Jesse had a small frown on his face. “I need my glasses,” Jesse turned his face away, his eyes firmly closed. He didn’t want to risk hurting James.

“Right, of course.” James searched the area, his eye quickly spotting the black sunglasses. Gently picking them up, he handed them back to the gorgon who gave a short thanks before placing them securely back on his face. “Ok, just give me one minute.” James didn’t wait for Jesse to respond and bolted off ahead. Gotta make sure there are no more rocks or sticks on the path. The cyclops made quick work throwing the rocks off the path and soon rejoined his boyfriend’s side. “I’m back.”

“What were you doing?” Jesse quirked an eyebrow. One of his snakes slithered forward and eyed the cyclops.

“Clearing the path. You won’t be tripping again.” James slowly intertwined his fingers with Jesse’s. “You ready for a nice walk?”

“A walk? Sure. How nice it will be depends on if I trip again.”

“You won’t.” James gave Jesse’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Jesse turned towards James with a smirk. “I was teasing.” The gorgon looked back forward. “It's always nice walking with you.”

James’ eye grew large before softening. A happy smile appeared on his lips as his face grew pink. “Well then, let’s enjoy our walk.” James declared softly before he heard another thunk. Glancing over, he noticed that he had led Jesse straight into a tree.

“Jesse!”

Jesse rubbed his face with a groan, the snakes on his head hissing and spitting angrily. “No other team can be struggling as much as us.”

------

Brody felt her heart racing wildy as her eyes darted around the forest. It was a bit of struggle going through the dark woods. There was nothing inherently wrong with a nighttime walk through the woods. But that story Clem told had set the selkie’s heart racing. She could feel her heartbeat pounding softly in her ears as she pulled her sealskin closer to her.

“Don't worry, Brody!” Mitch smiled over his girlfriend. “I’ll make sure nothing gets to us! If there is some fucking psycho out here, he won’t stand a chance against us!”

Brody looked up at the minotaur with a warm smile. “Yeah, you’re right.” She grabbed her boyfriend’s hand which caused the minotaur’s tail to curl around his leg.

“I’ll punch anything that jumps out at us!” Mitch declared loudly as he walked alongside Brody.

“Just make sure it’s not one of our friends.” Brody gave a teasing smile over to her boyfriend.

Mitch returned the smile then focused on the woods ahead. His hoofs clacked softly against the dirt ground. “So, you ready for your next swim match?” The minotaur looked over to the selkie.

“Yeah, Coach Garcia has helped me out with a technique that will make my swimming even faster.”

“Heh, the competition better watch out. They’re gonna get their asses kicked this Thursday!”

“Damn right!” Brody had a proud smile on her face. She glanced down for a moment, pulling the sealskin closer around her as she stopped walking, causing Mitch to do the same. “Are you going to be able to come to the match?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t fucking miss it for the world!” Mitch’s statement made Brody look up and lock eyes with the minotaur. Getting up on tiptoes, Brody planted a soft kiss on Mitch’s cheek.

“Thanks, Mitch.”

Mitch had an excited smile on his face, his tail curling even further around his leg. “Come on, Brodes. Let’s be the first through the test of courage!”

Brody laughed goodnaturedly as she jogged to catch up to her boyfriend’s long strides. “There isn’t any prize.”

“Sure there is,”

Brody looked over with a curious expression.

“Bragging rights.”

“Alright, then let's get those bragging rights.”

“Hell yeah!”

Mitch and Brody continued, focused entirely on making it through the forest as quickly as they could.

----

Violet couldn’t care less how long it took to make it through the woods. It was nice here. The cool wind, the shining light of the moon. Her girlfriend’s hand in hers. She couldn’t think of a better way to spend an evening.

“It’s lovely tonight,” Prisha’s voice drew the werewolf’s attention. Her tail began to wag back and forth wildly when she saw how beautiful Prisha looked in the moonlight.

“Yeah,” Violet had a warm smile on her face as she looked at Prisha only to look away when she locked eyes with the vampire. “So, what direction should we go?”

Prisha shrugged. “I don’t have a preference. I’m quite enjoying our time in the woods.”

“Yeah, it’s nice here,” Violet’s tail swayed back and forth at a steady pace. Something about the woods always felt so comforting to Violet. Maybe it had something to do with her werewolf instincts. The stars looked super pretty tonight too. Violet’s tail wagged faster. This was the best test of courage she had ever done. It was the only one she had ever done, but the statement still held true.

“I remember when I used to live in the woods.” Prisha smiled around at the forestry. “Those years were so peaceful. Just the calming presence of the woods and me.” Prisha let out a happy sigh. “Those decades were so tranquil.” Prisha slipped her hand out of Violet’s and strolled over to examine a tree. “There was nothing quite like it.”

“Maybe I should leave you and the woods alone,” Violet grumbled, annoyed that Prisha was no longer beside her.

Prisha glanced over her girlfriend. “My, Violet, are you jealous of the woods?” The vampire had a teasing expression on her face.

“Why would I be jealous of some shitty trees,” Violet crossed her arms and looked away. Her words didn’t match up with her body language. Her tail had gone limp against her leg and her ears were sad and droopy. “Let’s just keep moving.” The werewolf sulked away further into the dark forest.

“Vi,” Prisha strolled forward. “You surely can’t think I was comparing these woods to you.”

Violet’s ears remained flat as she walked forward. “Doesn’t matter what I think.”

“It does to me,” Prisha reached out and grabbed Violet’s hand. Violet paused when she felt the cold embrace of the vampire’s hand. “Nothing compares to you.”

Violet looked up at Prisha with wide eyes. Her ears perked up and her tail slowly started wagging. “Except you.” Violet awkwardly rubbed the side of her arm. She shook her head. “No, wait, that sounded better in my head.”

Prisha smiled at her girlfriend and gently captured her lips in a kiss. Violet’s eyes grew large as her tail swayed widely back and forth. She leaned into the kiss for a moment then pulled away. They looked at each other with shy smiles. Violet had grabbed both of Prisha’s hands with a happy smile on her face. She leaned her head back and let out a joyful howl that echoed throughout the woods. An evening in the woods really was the best.

------

The woods were the worst. They were dark and scary and the sounds of creatures whispering from the trees made Louis’ skin crawl. Still, he wanted to prove that he had courage. That’s what the test was all about. He especially wanted to prove it to Clementine. He glanced over at the human who seemed comfortable strolling through the woods.

It was so odd, how Clem made him feel. Whenever he was with her he’d get really nervous and his heart would start pounding wildly. When it first happened he had wondered if it was due to the tea he had on the way to school. But that had only happened when he had caffeine and the tea didn’t have that. After observing the others, Louis figured he had what they had: love sickness. Is that the right term? Louis cocked his head to the side in thought when he noticed Clementine look over at him. The pair glanced at each other then shared a quick smile before looking away. There it was again. His heart was acting wild, he could feel his face heating up too.

“So, think we’ll finish first?” Clementine glanced over at the frankenstein.

“Yeah! We’ll show them what we’re capable of.” Louis had a confident smile on his face.

“Not scared of the woods?” Clementine had a playful smile on her lips.

“Who, me? Nah,” Louis shook his head and flashed the biggest smile he could. “The woods should be scared of me!” He lifted up his arm and flexed it.

Clementine chuckled. “They should be terrified.”

“Exactly,” Louis strode forward, a new wave of confidence coursing through his veins. Clementine joined his side when all of the sudden a howl echoed throughout the woods, causing some of the birds to fly up from their nests and into the sky. “Ahhh!’ Louis yelped and jumped into Clementine’s arms.

Clementine could feel her heart racing but it wasn’t because of the sound. It was the fact that Louis was in her arms. She could feel her face heating up when she noticed out of the corner of her eye that one of Louis’ hands had come off and was flying through the air. Pivoting her legs, she reached out one of her hands and caught the loose limb.

She looked at the frankenstein’s hand wriggling within her own. This wasn’t exactly how she envisioned holding Louis’ hand for the first time. When she first came to Ericson, she wasn’t sure if she’d get along with the monsters. But now here she was in the woods holding the monster she had caught feelings for. Clementine shook herself out of her thoughts. She needed to focus.

“Thanks, Clem!” Louis’s cheery voice made the human turn her head to look towards the frankenstein. That’s when she noticed how close their faces were. Both of their faces took on a shade of blush as they looked away.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Clementine set down Louis who brushed off his clothes when he noticed he was missing one of his appendages. He turned his head wildly, making his dreadlocks bounce here and there.

“Need a hand?” Clementine twisted her hand back and forth, displaying the hand.

“Oh, thanks.” Louis took the hand and reattached it with a small pop. “Gotta had some more stitches next time.” The two smiled at each other for a few seconds too long then both glanced away again.

“So, shall I take the lead?” Clementine gestured to the path in front of them.

“I couldn’t think of a better guide.” Louis soon followed Clem, leaning closer to her whenever there was a sound that spooked him. Clementine noticed the frankenstein’s nerves and decided to lighten the mood with some casual conversation. The pair soon got caught up in their talks, so much so they barely noticed when they made it to the finish line. Only two other pairs were there so far.

“That’s bullshit,” Mitch huffed, his tail flicking back and forth. “Brody and I totally got here first!”

“Oh really?” Jesse had a smug smirk on his face. “Because how I remember it is that you two showed up after us.”

“Guys, come on, there’s no need to fight,” James tried to step between them and waved his hands back and forth.

“Mitch, it’s not a big deal.” Brody added from the sidelines.

“It is to me! I-” Mitch stopped when he noticed Clem and Louis. “Looks like others are showing up.”

The others turned and saw the frankenstein and human giggling with each other, still not noticing the other monsters.

“They’re cute,” James smiled as he watched.

“They’re dumbasses,” Mitch shook his head. “Just gotta go for it.”

“Says the minotaur that got asked out instead of doing the asking.” Jesse smirked.

Mitch was about to speak up but Brody beat him to it. “Hey, you two over here!” She waved at Louis and Clem who waved back and strolled over.

“Hey, guys! Looks like we made it through the test of courage!” Louis smiled proudly.

“Is it just you guys so far?’ Clementine asked before glancing back at the woods.

“Yeah, I’m sure the others aren’t far behind though,” James said with an optimistic expression. The three pairs sat down in the clearing and waited for the others.

Minnie and Omar were the next pair to make it through. Both were smiling and talking about something when Omar noticed the others. The next couple didn’t appear out of the woods but rather on the outer perimeter. Ruby and Aasim quickly let go of each other’s hands when they noticed the others. The dryad and fire elemental soon joined the group and got caught up in discussing the beauty of the woods when they heard an excited crow. No one even had to look to know it was Sophie. The harpy flew up in the air and did some quick circles before landing beside the dullahan again, exclaiming proudly how they weren’t last place. After a few more minutes, Prisha and Violet appeared from the woods. Both seemed perfectly content with taking their time. The werewolf’s tail wagged happily as she strolled forward with the vampire.

“Are we last?” Prisha looked around at the others. “Damn, how unfortunate.” The other monsters shared a look; it was clear based on the vampire’s expression that she didn’t mean it.

“Well, looks like everyone made it through.” Clementine looked around her circle of friends.

“Yep!” Sophie chirped. “We showed that test of courage who was boss!”

“We should do a victory cheer!” Louis’ suggestion had all the monsters unsure as he stuck his hand in the middle of the circle.

“Sounds good to me,” Clementine added her hand into the circle and caught the teasing look in Violet’s eyes. “What?”

“Nothing.” Violet shrugged and added her hand. One by one the other monsters added their hands into the pile.

“Goooooooo, monster pals!” Louis shoot his hand in the air along with others who look confused by the cheer.

“We definitely need a better cheer,” Violet shook her head.

“Well, we could always make a new one one next time.” Clementine offered.

“Oh? Are we gonna do this again?” Sophie bounced excitedly on her talons.

“Only if the rest of you want to.”

The group of monsters started to grow loud, each monster adding in their opinion until it was decided upon. This wouldn’t be the only test of courage these young monsters would face. As Clementine glanced around at her friends, she could tell that they were excited for next time, whenever that might be.

[iamnmbr3]

I just saw the movie and currently want to bang my head against the wall. They took everything we hoped for and tossed it out the window. So many characters are still dead, Tony was needlessly killed off, and they apparently just don't care about the relationship between Steve and Bucky. This might be the one thing that motivates me to start writing fanfiction. Until then, do you know any good Stucky fics to help with coping after seeing this... thing?

*Hugs!* They treated the fandom so badly. I understand you can’t please everybody with a movie like this, but literally nobody got what they wanted. Was there a reason Tony Stark couldn’t earn his happy ending and pass the mantle to someone else and retire to be with his wife and child??? 

And c’mon. I know they’re not gonna make stucky canon, but did they have to completely invalidate and disrespect the depth of the relationship between Steve and Bucky? I mean, they’re the ones that built that relationship up!

None of the characters got satisfying endings. This movie was just depressing. It betrayed the trust of everyone who got invested in this franchise.

Be the change you want to see! Write the aggressively anti canon fanfic we all need! And then let me know so that I can read it. 

You can check my fic rec tag for stucky recs. I haven’t read any post endgame fics yet. I’m giving the fandom a day to work on them. But then I’ll go look and do a rec list.

In the meantime, here are a couple humor recs and some fluff recs to get you started.

Humorous fics to cheer you up

Blood Is Thicker Than Carpet Cleaner by Alexicon (complete | 5,872 | T) 

Just because it had been a joke didn’t mean it was a bad idea. Steve opened the phone book to the business section and searched fruitlessly for the right entries for about six minutes until he finally came across ‘Cl’ by sheer luck when a few pages stuck together as he turned them.

For some reason, his eyes were immediately drawn to a small, bleak ad in the corner, with only a few words, a phone number, and a thin black border.

The ad’s content:

“Winter’s Cleaning Services. Fees paid half up front. Specializes in blood removal.”

Well. That was. Specific.

Steve Rogers is Captain America, a superhero. Bucky Barnes is the Winter Soldier, an assassin. Steve needs someone to clean his apartment. Bucky shows up to a meeting with a potential client. Neither of them got quite what they expected.

buachaill sciobail by silentwalrus (complete | 5,271 | unrated )

“Okay,” Sam says. “Okay. Alright. O-kay. I just, I gotta say, man, when you told me ‘Bucky is a selkie’ this is not… really…. what I… imagined.”

“What did you imagine?” Steve says. Across his lap - or rather covering his entire body from the waist down - the eight hundred pound tube of blubber that is J.B. Barnes blows a snot bubble.

it’s a love story, baby just say yes by KiaraSayre (complete | 1,824 | M )

“Eyes on the prize, Widow: we’re getting Captain America and Bucky laid, with each other. That’s the op. Got it?”

i heard love is blind by girl0nfire (complete | 1,159 | M )

Steve keeps bringing home guys that look like Bucky; Bucky keeps bringing home guys that look like Steve. Sam just wants to drink his coffee in peace. (Guest appearances by nearly every character Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans have ever played. Really.)

introducing mister and mister united states by moonythejedi394 (complete | 18,440 | T )

“HE’S BEAUTY HE’S GRACE HE’S MISTER UNITED STATES!” “Bucky, what the [bleeped]…?”

“Following his pardon by the President of the United States, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, former Nazi prisoner of war and brainwashed Hydra agent, took to an unusual method of adapting to the modern world: Twitter. His Twitter handle was tweeted out by Tony Stark, and in the following two days, he gained over ten million followers. Barnes posted only four tweets as well as sharing and retweeting several Vines, but two of his tweets were videos of the famed Steven Rogers, also known as Captain America. The latest of these featured Barnes entering Captain Roger’s bedroom and shouting the line: “He’s beauty, he’s grace, he’s mister United States”, just to cause Captain Rogers to fall out of bed before confusedly saying, “Bucky, what the [bleeped]?” The rest of the world seems to agree with Captain Rogers; Barnes, what the hell?”

Things the men of the Howling Commandos are no longer allowed to do in the SSRby Odsbodkins (complete | 769 | G )

The Captain America: The First America version of Skippy’s list - Things the men of the Howling Commandos are no longer allowed to do in the SSR.

The Art Of Trolling by Odsbodkins (complete | 4,414 | T )

Since everyone thinks they can ask all kinds of intrusive questions about Captain America, it’s Bucky’s duty to troll the hell out of them.

Fluffy soft fics

just goddamn marry me already, for fuck’s sake by newsbypostcard (complete | 6,376 | E )

“Do you,” Steve says, fingers newly tugging Bucky’s underwear until it starts to slide off his hips, “want to marry me, or not?”

Bucky sighs. “You know, in some circles people would consider this interrogation under duress.”

undersell, overcommit by silentwalrus (complete | 10,222 | unrated )

Steve goes so hard for Bucky that he becomes a licensed, practicing massage therapist.

give me your answer do by lazulisong (complete | 2,053 | G )

Bucky knows it’s going to be a bad one when Steve wakes up again, lifts his head up from the side of Bucky’s fancy electric hospital bed, and says, “Now don’t get mad until I explain.”

His voice has the tone that had meant he’d got into another fight and had two black eyes, or found a HYDRA nest and accidentally forgotten to tell Bucky or the other Howlies that he was going in to clear it out, or that he’d met a stray dog on the way home from the store and given it his share of meat for supper and was planning to eat boiled potatoes and stale bread, while expecting Bucky to eat his own share of the meat as if it didn’t choke him.

A Precarious, Fragile Thing by Taste_is_Sweet (complete | 6,961 | T )

“I didn’t know he did that,” Tony said. He knew Bucky liked tucking himself so far under Steve’s arm that it was like he was trying to climb into his armpit. But he’d always stayed upright, just kind of plastering himself against Steve’s side. This blanket thing was new.

“Seventy years of skin hunger,” Steve said. His voice was just as soft, but for a moment his eyes flickered hot with anger, bright as the candy-colored screen. “He was always tactile. Now, when things get…well, sometimes it helps. The contact.”

And it looked…nice, the two of them together like that: Comfortable. Familiar. Safe. Tony knew what a precarious, fragile thing it was, to feel safe in the middle of the night.

[thestuckylibrary]

INFINITY WAR: ULTIMATE COMFORT POST

**THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS**

Infinity War Fix-It Fics:

AO3 tags: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie),  Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) and  Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers - check these often for new fics!

To Never Have Loved At All by hitlikehammers (oneshot | 2,839 | T)

Steve will say they had work to do, and a universe to put to rights. They had people to find and hearts to unbreak. They had a mission. There was no time for any of them to mourn.

Steve, as it turns out, says a lot of things that are mostly bullshit.

in a world where you are possible my love by onibi (oneshot | 753 | T)

God, he looks good.

There were probably more than one thousand things on Steve’s mind right now, but that one thought rose to the surface like oil over water. Bucky looks so good.

the space between spaces by notlucy (oneshot | 294 | G)

We are all stardust. Some of us are better at it than others.

A Thousand Miles, A Thousand Years by stainedgreen (oneshot | 727 | T)

With the Time Stone mysteriously removed from Thanos, Steve and Wong travel back in time to the critical moment and Steve hug-tackles Bucky to the ground.

Not Again by grantbarnes (WIP | 492 | NR)

post infinity war fic centering around steve and bucky, but also with other character’s maybe idk i just need stevebucky fix it

my heart's the same by chai_lattes (oneshot | 930 | G)

"the end of the line's come and gone, pal. but i'm still here."

A New Normal by Skarabrae_stone (oneshot | 633 | G)

Steve, Groot, Rocket, and Bucky are happy in Wakanda. That's it. That's the fic. Super shameless, self-indulgent fluff.

Wherever You Will Go by Cryofreeze (oneshot | 15,762 | T)

If I could turn back time I'll go wherever you will go

This is the Perfect Time to Panic by emij1s, Slenderlock (oneshot | 8,784 | E)

James, the golden voice says. We can’t tell you where you are. But we can tell you that you’re dead.

Fuck his entire life. Except he doesn’t have a life to fuck anymore, apparently. So he can’t really do himself any harm by back-talking the Infinity Stones, can he?

“No shit,” he says.

or: Finding the infinity stones and restoring half the universe is the boring part. The fun part comes next.

Mods’ Comfort Reads:

Mod Blue suggests: These American Dreams (ain’t no white picket fences left for me) by kariye (oneshot | 50,608 | E)

In which Bucky has a house, a dog, an herb garden, and a serious case of insomnia. Welcome to Havensport, Indiana (population 8,294), where Tom’s Neighborhood Grocer stays open all night, little old ladies call the car shop to get their refrigerators repaired, and the heat of summer days and the length of summer nights can make you think that this perfect world will last forever. 

The Art Of Cooking For Two by littleblackfox (complete | 92,761 | M)

“Any questions?” “Uh. What the fuck am I doing here?” Bucky offers. 

took my love, took it down by LaughsAtThunder (oneshot | 31,785 | E)

The problem, Bucky thinks now that he has most of his memories back, is that his whole entire world has always revolved around Steve Rogers. Steve has been always been half of Bucky’s identity. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ best friend. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ wingman. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ teammate. And now, well, now Steve had other people to fill those positions. And of course, of course he’d always been a little bit in love with Steve. So when he overhears Steve telling Natasha that he’s finally found someone he’d like to date, someone with similar life experience, Bucky clings blindly to the hope that maybe, just maybe, Steve is talking about him. 

4 Minute Window by Speranza (oneshot | 24,127 | E)

"Look, if they catch me," Bucky muttered, "they're either going to kill me or they're going to put me in a box with a little window and—Steve, I can't." 

Part 1 of 4 Minute Window

Through Cities And Churches by Speranza (complete | 37,256 | E)

A tale of many cities and churches and two boys. Happy 100th Birthday, Bucky Barnes: March 10, 2017. 

This, You Protect by owlet (complete | 64,326 | T)

The mission resets abruptly, from objective: kill to objective: protect

Mod Julia suggests:  the cold never bothered me anyway by icoulddothisallday (complete | 75,562| E)

Bucky Barnes has spent his whole life in a state of mild hypothermia. Steve Rogers has spent the last 70 years in the ice. The two things aren’t related until, suddenly, they are. Shrunkyclunks soulmate AU (AKA the awkward bb au).

Winter Gorgon by Quarra (complete | 74,067 | E)

For as long as Steve could remember, all he ever wanted to do was what was right. So when he hears about his father's old regiment being held as POW's by the Nazis, he's determined to put what Doctor Erskine gave him to good use and goes AWOL to rescue them.

But the 107th isn't all he finds there. Deep in the labs is a very unusual prisoner; one with snakes in his hair and a mask nailed to his face. Despite the man's monstrous visage, Steve can't in good conscience leave him to the enemy. That one act of mercy will change his life, the course of the war, and even the future of the world.

Put It on Repeat, It Stays the Same by giselleslash (complete | 20,205 | E)

Steve and Bucky have a one night stand that turns into a friends with benefits situation. A weekend snowed in at Bucky’s apartment brings to light how much that really doesn’t suit either one of them.

A Historical Relic and a History Professor Walk into a Bar- by thecommodore_squid (series | 48,122 | M)

Steve narrowed his eyes. “I’m beginning to suspect I’ve been set up.”

“I would never,” Natasha said, feigning shock.

Steve sighed.

“God fucking dammit,” he heard someone say and looked up.

AKA An AU in which Steve is still Captain America and Bucky is the unfortunate history professor selected to help him understand those references.

little windows by sheisraging (series | 52,488 | M)

Bucky looks at the paintbrushes Steve rolls nervously between his hands, at the box now sitting on the coffee table. He brushes his fingertips over the star. “You want to paint my arm?”

Grab Your Things (I've Come to Take You Home) by belovedmuerto (oneshot | 22,310 | T)

Steve getting hit with some sparkly purple sh*t during a battle and left with all of his old ailments gives Bucky the opportunity to do something he's been meaning to do for ages.

Mod Iamnmbr3 suggests: Your Kind of Idiot by dirtybinary (complete | 4,545 | T )

In which Bucky doesn't fall from the train, Steve has company when he wakes up in the twenty-first century, and neither of them knows how to talk about their feelings unless they're about to die.

The Art Of Trolling by Odsbodkins (complete | 4,414 | T )

Since everyone thinks they can ask all kinds of intrusive questions about Captain America, it's Bucky's duty to troll the hell out of them.

United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015) by fallingvoices, radialarch (complete | 20,605 | T )

The Associated Press @AP Winter Soldier set to stand trial for Washington D.C. massacre and treason apne.ws/1og6SWE

give me your answer do by lazulisong (complete | 2,053 | G )

Bucky knows it's going to be a bad one when Steve wakes up again, lifts his head up from the side of Bucky's fancy electric hospital bed, and says, "Now don't get mad until I explain."

His voice has the tone that had meant he'd got into another fight and had two black eyes, or found a HYDRA nest and accidentally forgotten to tell Bucky or the other Howlies that he was going in to clear it out, or that he'd met a stray dog on the way home from the store and given it his share of meat for supper and was planning to eat boiled potatoes and stale bread, while expecting Bucky to eat his own share of the meat as if it didn't choke him.

A Precarious, Fragile Thing by Taste_is_Sweet (complete | 6,961 | T )

“I didn’t know he did that,” Tony said. He knew Bucky liked tucking himself so far under Steve’s arm that it was like he was trying to climb into his armpit. But he’d always stayed upright, just kind of plastering himself against Steve’s side. This blanket thing was new.

“Seventy years of skin hunger,” Steve said. His voice was just as soft, but for a moment his eyes flickered hot with anger, bright as the candy-colored screen. “He was always tactile. Now, when things get…well, sometimes it helps. The contact.”

And it looked…nice, the two of them together like that: Comfortable. Familiar. Safe. Tony knew what a precarious, fragile thing it was, to feel safe in the middle of the night.

Circling Back by chaya (complete | 59,642 | E )

Steve looks for Bucky, Bucky finds Steve, Steve tries desperately to put Bucky back together. Bucky tries desperately to let him. (Spoilers for Winter Soldier.)

A Person's Worth by melonbutterfly (complete | 810 | G )

For a brief moment Bucky remains silent, and then he says, voice quiet but factual, just a bare scratch to it, "I don't know if I'm worth all this to you."

And there will forever be only one answer to this. "You are."

things learnt upon reunion by dirtybinary (complete | 2,615 | T )

It is their first day on the run, and their first night spent together in seventy years: part mission, part honeymoon.

Bit by bit, Steve gets the hang of Bucky again.

Or: the CA:CW trailer gave me feelings and then this happened.

Things the men of the Howling Commandos are no longer allowed to do in the SSR by Odsbodkins (complete | 769 | G )

The Captain America: The First America version of Skippy's list - Things the men of the Howling Commandos are no longer allowed to do in the SSR.

buachaill sciobail by silentwalrus (complete | 5,271 | unrated ) 

“Okay,” Sam says. “Okay. Alright. O-kay. I just, I gotta say, man, when you told me ‘Bucky is a selkie’ this is not... really…. what I... imagined.” “What did you imagine?” Steve says. Across his lap - or rather covering his entire body from the waist down - the eight hundred pound tube of blubber that is J.B. Barnes blows a snot bubble.

January 2nd, 1938 by kristophine (complete | 1,201 | E )

“Stevie!”

Steve frowned harder down at the paper.

“Steve!” Bucky dropped down on the floor next to him. “Get a look at this!”

Grudgingly, Steve glanced up, and found himself laughing. “You didn’t.”

just goddamn marry me already, for fuck's sake by newsbypostcard (complete | 6,376 | E )

"Do you," Steve says, fingers newly tugging Bucky's underwear until it starts to slide off his hips, "want to marry me, or not?"

Bucky sighs. "You know, in some circles people would consider this interrogation under duress."

The Wedding of Bucky Barnes by stephrc79 (complete | 67,805 | T )

This is the story of how an instagramming, trolling, pain in the ass got married to an equally annoying, artistic, bossy, stubborn blond oaf.

Or, you know, how one James Buchanan Barnes, Instagram Extraordinaire, married Captain America himself, one Steven Grant Rogers.

The Not-Christmas Not-Truce of 1944 by dropdeaddream (complete | 1,416 | T )

Bucky stabs a man in the neck.

The cow moos.

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[unnameablethings]

Flower of the Sea

Once, the Hunger Of The Abyss had seen a flower fall from a tree hanging over the water and drift through the currents, delicate and pink and fragile. She had been very young at the time, not even named yet, and she had cupped it in palms that were still soft and small, played with it for a few minutes before the water and the little mermaid’s claws had battered it until it was no longer beautiful.

The fisher-girl, too, is delicate and pink and fragile, and though the Hunger of the Abyss is no longer baby-soft and playful, she has the same urge to look, to touch, to cup that soft beauty in her hands and take it for herself. But she does not dare, could not bear to break the fisher-girl like she had broken those soft petals. The Hunger of the Abyss has sharper claws now, is bigger, her skin leathery and armored, and though she is powerful, and knows herself to be strong and attractive and very appealing to potential mates, she is not beautiful in the same way the fisher-girl is beautiful. She does not know if she would be appealing to a human mate, the way she is appealing to a mer-mate. The way the fisher-girl is to her.

The Hunger of the Abyss remains silent, still, watches the fisher-girl swim and sail and laugh and splash and catch fish, occasionally swims away when she sees the fisher-girl look in her direction with wide eyes. She does not want to frighten the fisher-girl away. That would be terrible, awful, for the fisher-girl to no longer swim in these waters. The laughing little selkies who dance on the shore tell the Hunger of the Abyss that she is being ridiculous, that she can win a fisher-girl’s love with no trouble at all, or that she should not bother with a fisher-girl at all, but the Hunger of the Abyss does not listen. The selkies do not know fishers. Granted, the Hunger of the Abyss does not know fishers either, but she can’t imagine that the selkies have somehow managed to guess more accurately than she has. She does not ever intend to speak to the fisher-girl, or let the fisher-girl see her.

But then there is a storm, and the fisher-girl does not read the signs and stay in shelter like a sensible human, so it catches her out on the ship. The fisher-girl struggles with her little sail as the Hunger of the Abyss watches with a writhing tail and fins that flicker in what certainly isn’t fear, because the Hunger of the Abyss is never afraid. The sailboat is tipping dangerously, taking on water, and the fisher-girl’s clothing is plastered to her with rain, her hair escaping her braid and falling into her eyes as she white-knuckles at ropes, her small chest rising and falling rapidly. And then the sailboat tips, and the fisher-girl falls into the water, struggling to stay afloat as the sailboat sinks, and the waves crash over the fisher-girl’s head, and the Hunger of the Abyss moves.

Her claws are sharp enough to gut a whale, so she must be very, very gentle as she takes the fisher-girl into her arms, brings her face up to the air, keeping her above the waves. The Hunger of the Abyss cuts through the water, going as rapidly as she can. Humans do poorly in cold water, and the fisher-girl is so tired, has been cold and wet for a long time already. The Hunger of the Abyss can feel the fisher-girl’s small, soft breaths, the rapid flutter of her heart, the surprising warmth of her, and though she will never admit it to the selkies, there is a strange thrill to it, to how soft and quick and warm she is. How very small.

The Hunger of the Abyss drags herself into the shallow water and deposits the fisher-girl on the sand. She starts to push herself back into the waves, but the fisher-girl staggers to her feet, holding out her hands and calling out through the storm. The Hunger of the Abyss pauses, tilts her head inquiringly.

“Thank you,” the fisher girl says. Her voice is hoarse with saltwater, but still sweet. Hunger of the Abyss feels her tail flip over itself, in a way that she is glad the selkies were not around to see, and then smiles, very cautiously, keeping her teeth covered.

“It was my honor,” she says, and then throws herself back into the sea with a powerful push of her arms and tail. She checks on the fisher-girl over her shoulder once she’s in the water, sees her trudging her way up the hill to her home. The door clicks behind the fisher-girl, and only then does the Hunger of the Abyss dive back into the stormy seas, and return to her own home, under the sea-cliff.

The fisher-girl does not come out to fish for days and days after that, and the Hunger of the Abyss finds that her thoughts turn more and more to her. Is she well? Is she safe and healthy? Is she getting enough to eat?

But then the moon is full, and it is time for the selkies to dance, so the Hunger of the Abyss reluctantly puts aside thoughts of the fisher-girl and follows the pod of giggling seals up to the beach. The Hunger of the Abyss drapes herself over the low, flat stone in the harbor, and watches the selkies shed their skins, laughing their burbling laughs as they stomp and twirl naked on the sand. She props her head on her hand as she watches, humming soft accompaniment to their dancing and raucous singing. Her voice is a voice that can capsize ships and summon storms, so she keeps it soft, merely adding a wild rhythm to their dancing.

There, over the rocks, movement. The Hunger of the Abyss sits up, watching with narrowed eyes. Another man, come to steal the selkies’ skins as they dance? She will eat him alive if he tries. After the first man took a selkie unwilling and trapped, and the selkies came weeping and raging to the Hunger of the Abyss to get their sister back, she has accompanied them to every dance. It will not happen again. But wait, no, is that-

The fisher-girl comes over the rocks, carefully easing herself down the sea-cliff to the cove. The selkies notice her right away, but do nothing except laugh louder and harder and twist their heads to look at the Hunger of the Abyss where she sits on her rock, claws The Hunger of the Abyss watches the fisher-girl intently as she edges around the dancing selkies, her bare feet sinking into the sand. The Hunger of the Abyss can just make out the fisher-girl’s expression, wide-eyed and soft, as she skirts the dancers and comes over to the rocks edging the shore, where the selkie’s skins are laid out. The selkies are looking at her more carefully now, and the Hunger of the Abyss digs her claws into the rock, hoping that the fisher-girl doesn’t steal a skin. She does not want to have to hunt the fisher-girl.

But no, the fisher-girl is walking around the seal-skins, is wading into the water. She is looking at the Hunger of the Abyss, and she is carrying something in her hands. The Hunger of the Abyss watches her come, a strange tenseness in her chest that is not fear, nor even the respectable wariness of any creature that has survived to adulthood in the sea.

The Hunger of the Abyss is too deep for the fisher-girl to reach her without swimming, and she pauses when the water is at her chest, clearly wondering whether to swim on or go back. She glances back at the shore, holding the shiny thing in her hands close to her chest. She is so sweet and nervous, so the Hunger of the Abyss obliges her by sliding off the rock and into the water, two strokes of her tail bringing her within arm’s length of the fisher-girl. The fisher-girl draws back, eyes going wide, and the Hunger of the Abyss’s chest twinges at the sight of her pale, shaking hands. She has some kind of necklace in her hands, and she holds it out to the Hunger of the Abyss. A gift. A courting gift?

The Hunger of the Abyss bows her head so the fisher-girl can put the necklace on her, and feels her small warm hands slide the chain over the Hunger of the Abyss’ head, to her hummed approval. The Hunger of the Abyss has many necklaces, most far richer than this one, but she has liked not a single one of them as much as this.

“Thank you for helping me the other day,” the fisher-girl says, looking up at the Hunger of the Abyss. Her head has to tip back so far that it makes the Hunger of the Abyss want to croon at how little she is. “I don’t know why you did, but I wanted to make sure you knew I appreciated it, and I knew that a mermaid guarded the selkies when they danced because of what happened to James Burne, so I thought… I know it’s not much.”

“It is a beautiful gift,” the Hunger of the Abyss says, and then, “You are beautiful.”

The fisher-girl’s eyes go very round and she turns a lovely pink, like the inside of a snail’s shell. “Oh!” she says, and puts her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, thank you! I - you’re beautiful, too!”

The Hunger of the Abyss’s stomach goes tight like hunger and more than hunger, and she smiles, forgetting to hide her teeth. The fisher-girl blinks rapidly, and then smiles back.

“How are you doing without your fishing-boat?” the Hunger of the Abyss asks, because she has been… not worrying, but thinking about it often. The fisher-girl grimaces.

“Not… great. I mean, I’m doing fine, but I was trading fresh fish for a lot of my groceries and now I don’t have that income… It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry as I please,” the Hunger of the Abyss says. The fisher girl goes pinker still, looking away, and the Hunger of the Abyss sees that she’s trembling all over, now, and her lips have gone a strange blueish color. The Hunger of the Abyss needs to (kiss them) get her back to shore. “Are you cold?”

The fisher girl hesitates, then nods, rubbing her arms. The Hunger of the Abyss picks her up and out of the water, cradling her against her chest. The shore is some distance away, and the fisher-girl is cold and weary. She should not have to walk so far. The fisher-girl makes the softest sound, all beautiful from her lips, and her hands clutch at the Hunger of the Abyss’ shoulders. She is so very warm, warmer even than the last time, and it is blissful against the tough, cold chest of the Hunger of the Abyss. It takes the Hunger of the Abyss several moments to even strike out for the shore, she is so overcome by it, but she can feel the fisher-girl shivering, and so she places her reluctantly onto the sand.

“Return in the day, when you will not be so cold,” the Hunger of the Abyss orders.

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

The fisher-girl nods several times. The selkies are staring openly now, have slowed their dance to watch, and when the Hunger of the Abyss catches their eyes, they explode into giggles. She hisses at them, no teeth behind it, and they scatter in mock-terror, twirling away from the water.

“Wait- what’s your name?” the fisher-girl blurts. She is hugging herself,

“I am the Hunger of the Abyss.”

“Oh,” says the fisher-girl, and her lips move in the shape of it. “Thank you. I’m Jasmine - it’s a kind of flower.”

The Hunger in the Abyss hums at that, pleased. A blossom in truth, then, as well as in hushed sunlight-dreams of her, all coiled in the sea-grottos.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Jasmine says, lovely little flower, and runs up the sand of the cove, dodging the dancers and hauling herself back up the sea-cliff.

Tomorrow. The Hunger in the Abyss waits with barely bated patience for the selkies to finish with their dancing. She has to find a suitable courting-gift to exchange for the necklace. (The necklace was a courting gift, yes? It wasn’t just a gratitude-gift? Of course it was. But.)

A fisher-girl with no fish is a sorrowful thing, and of all the skills the Hunger in the Abyss has, hunting is among the greatest, so near dawn, as the selkies slip back into their skins and swim off to rest, she sets out in search of fish, and many of them. Storage presents a problem, but the rock-pools on the shore present a solution, and the Hunger in the Abyss brings fish after fish to an enclosed tidepool, still half-full of water. Every now and then she loops back to the cove where the selkies dance, lingering to see if Jasmine has come, and she has not come, so the Hunger in the Abyss goes back to her fishing.

And then finally she comes to the cove when the sun is high, and Jasmine - oh, precious flower, sun and stars - is there, sitting cross-legged on the sand in her swimming clothes, and the Hunger in the Abyss hauls herself onto the shore with a burble of delight that she had not intended to let escape her throat.

“You came,” the Hunger in the Abyss says, and her own voice is soft to her ears. Jasmine smiles, and the Hunger in the Abyss holds out her arms. “I want to show you something.”

Jasmine steps willingly into her embrace, and she is the warmest of all the times the Hunger in the Abyss has held her, sun-soaked and relaxed. “Show me,” she says, and the Hunger in the Abyss pulls herself back into the sea, rolling onto her back so Jasmine can sit and let only her legs trail in the water. Jasmine is all flushed again, nearly glowing from the sun, and it’s difficult to look away from her to check the water where she’s swimming for any unexpected obstacles. But no, there is nothing, and they reach the rock pools in very little time at all.

The Hunger in the Abyss puts Jasmine up on the rocks, and climbs up after her, sitting with her tail trailing in the water and waiting expectantly for Jasmine’s reaction. Jasmine is not looking at all of the fish that the Hunger in the Abyss caught for her, though. She’s looking at the Hunger in the Abyss herself, wide-eyed and craning her neck up.

“Gosh, you’re big,” Jasmine says. She turns pink again. “And strong.”

“Yes,” says the Hunger in the Abyss, because it is true, she is very big and strong. She preens a little at the compliment, but Jasmine won’t look into the pool and it’s important that she does. “Look at my gift.”

“Your-” Jasmine looks down into the pool, and then back up at the Hunger in the Abyss, mouth open. “Did you catch all of those? For me?”

“Yes. A courting-gift, in trade for my necklace. You said that you needed fish.”

“Yeah,” Jasmine says, faintly. “Yeah, I did. A courting-gift?”

“Mmm.” The Hunger in the Abyss leans over the pool to look in. That’s an impressive number of fish, an excellent courting-gift. She has done very well. “Do you accept?”

She very carefully does not look at Jasmine, but she can feel her tail flicking with agitation. Hopefully humans do not know the language of a mermaid’s tail. Jasmine is silent for longer than the Hunger in the Abyss would have liked, and she kneads her claws into the rock, tail flicks growing to writhing.

“I accept,” Jasmine says, finally, with an air of decisiveness, and a delighted trill explodes from the Hunger in the Abyss. She spares a moment to be thankful that there are no selkies around as she turns to look down at Jasmine, soft and beautiful and golden darling, beloved, courted, own. She is not sure what to do, how to react. Mermaid courting rituals tend to be more violent and physical than a fragile human body could bear. And then Jasmine’s soft mouth touches hers, and the Hunger in the Abyss hums in unexpected delight. She is unbearably soft, soft as petals drifting on the water, and she makes such pretty sounds when the Hunger in the Abyss cradles her face and kisses her back.

Jasmine breaks the kiss by laughing.

“Oh my god, it’s going to take me so many trips with the net to get all of those fish home, how many did you catch, what am I going to do with them all?”

“Whatever you like,” says the Hunger in the Abyss, and kisses her again.

[overstalking]

Another Wonderful Submission

Born From Dark Water

Based on the film ‘Song of the Sea’ and this ask: http://overstalking.tumblr.com/post/159215981404/genji-hanzo-and-zenyatta-with-a-selkie-so-how

The practice of self imposed solitude was a form of punishing himself just as much as it was for survival. Living the life of an exile and an assassin, he told himself that it was best not to allow any form of weakness like family or loved ones in his life that could only be exploited by his enemies later on. Anything that once resembled a chance of that, he either cut down or cast aside. Besides, a murderer like Hanzo Shimada had no right to hope for such things.

Once he and his brother Genji had reconciled along with fulfilling their duties at Overwatch, Hanzo fell into old habits despite his insistence to his brother that he had forgiven himself and moved on. That didn’t stop Genji from offering a place to stay in either Switzerland or Nepal should he need it; but being the proud man that he is, and not wanting to make his brother worry, Hanzo reassured him that he was fine and declined his offer every time.

During his travels, Hanzo found himself in a small safehouse on the edge of a small, craggy shore off the coast of Ireland. It was a small, drafty, stone cabin located where strong winds and thunderstorms occurred almost every other day, and isolated from the outside world… it was perfect. There, he found the time to live a quiet reclusive life with no burdens or responsibilities weighing him down and often spent his time meditating. Finding food was easy enough- given his skill with a bow and resourceful nature he sustained himself primarily on the abundant salmon from the nearby river, rabbit and deer in the forest, and a small garden for herbs and vegetables he grew just on the edge of the forest behind the house. The few times he would venture into the nearest town, which was miles away, it was to shop for supplies he otherwise couldn’t gather or create on his own. He only really socialized with the older locals who ran the shops, and that was limited to mainly small talk where he started to pick up Irish Gaelic.

Genji would send packages of small comforts from home on his birthday and around the winter holidays- large boxes of tea, a few bottles of saké, some other small treats and a handwritten letter along with a sparrow feather attached to a photo of him and either Zenyatta or Angela. It warmed Hanzo’s heart to know that his brother was doing well and thinking of him.

The rural countryside was rife with myths and tales of fae folk and other creatures from old times. At first, Hanzo chalked it up to superstitions and stories derived from old tradition much like that of gods and yōkai from his own homeland. He remembered a story his father told him once about the Namahage that would visit their castle and punish lazy or naughty children on New Year’s Eve so that he and his brother would behave. Once they grew older and realized that Namahage were just grown men dressed up in costumes, however, the tale lost its’ effect on them.

Still, he stuck around for the tales that the old shopkeepers would share after they would close their shops and go to the pub before heading home.

“You live in that little shack near the sea, is that right?”

“I do, yes.”

“Ah… so, lookin’ for a selkie bride, is it?”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t tell me ya haven’t heard the tale of the selkie?!”

“I have not.”

“Oh, fer the love of- Moira! Flaherty! Our Japanese friend here doesn’t know what a selkie is!”

“So? Leave him be, James. An’ don’t go fillin’ his head with some old stories!”

“Bah!” scoffed James, as he brushed his hand at them dismissively. The old man moved closer to Hanzo’s side of the table and leaned in, almost like a schoolchild about to tell a dark secret and whispered to him.

“Alright, here’s what you do, friend- you to the sea an’ shed seven tears into the water. Seven, no more no less. Once you do that, it’ll summon a selkie an’ then, you’ll have to steal her coat.”

“Why?”

“Because, once a selkie has lost their coat, she’ll have to agree to be your bride.”

James put his arm around Hanzo’s shoulder.

“Handsome young lad like you… doesn’t make much sense you don’t have at least someone in your life. Jus’ try it, son. An’ hey, if nothin’ happens, well then I’m just an old fool havin’ the craic!”

“Dad? C’mon it’s time to go.”, James’ daughter, Aoife approached the two at the table to bring her father home. She was a beautiful woman in her mid 30′s, and medium length red hair… She was also happily married with three children. She ran the flower shop and took care of her father after his wife died, and would always greet Hanzo with a courteous smile.

When the two leave out of earshot, Hanzo overhears Moira at the bar sigh while cleaning the bar.

“Poor old James… don’t go weeping in the ocean for a fairy tale, Hanzo; he just likes tellin’ stories. Gives him a reason to get out of the house since his wife’s died, you see. He’s pushin’ 95 this year now, an’ his mind’s goin’ downhill. So don’t mind it.”

It’s true that James was among the oldest residents in town and in declining health, so Hanzo brushed it aside as nothing more than a lonely old man telling a story. Then again, maybe it wasn’t all crazy- Hanzo and his brother both had power over ancient spirit dragons for god’s sake! Maybe this island had some forgotten magic of it’s own, after all.

The next couple days, Hanzo went on with his life and thought nothing about his old friends’ story. Then, he started to notice just how many seals would congregate on the rocks near his house; but he reasoned that it was most likely because of the abundant amount of fish and sunlight in that spot that was ideal for relaxing.

Then he thought more about what James had said- how ‘a handsome young lad like him’ truly has no one to share his life with. Hanzo never paid it any mind until someone brought it up. Genji was always more charming and likeable than him in their youth, so he just accepted that. He expected that he’d have to go along with an arranged marriage like his father, have some children, and live his life as the head of the clan. But life has a way of making other plans, since he had to cut his brother down after their father died, his entire world had fallen apart, and he had to find a way to start life all over again.

One day, after meditating on the beach, he stood up and walked closer to the ocean. The waves had started to lap at his feet and he stopped when he was about knee deep in the water. He thought about everything all at once- his brother, the clan, his parents, the life he left behind. For years he was hellbent on a constant search for redemption. And through it all, what did he have to show for it? For his sacrifice, his time in Overwatch? What will his legacy be?… Will anyone remember him when he’s gone? Would anyone accept and love him after all he’s done? Does he even deserve that?

The tears he didn’t even know he had been holding inside had started to fall.

One,

A sob

Two,

Three

He starts to weep

Four,

Five,

Then, finally… bawling

Six,

Seven

He falls to his knees and cries into his arm, hiding his shame from the rest of the world.

Once he calmed down, he made his way back to the cabin to go change out of his soaked clothes. He looked around and noticed that the seagulls and waves had gone quiet and that’s when saw something moving off to the side on the rocks nearby.

He saw a figure draped in what looked like a long, dark, iridescent, fur coat. He watched her as she shed and laid on top of it while she lounged on the rocks, with a content smile on her face and her naked body basking in the sunlight. She was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

An all powerful sense of longing crashed into him like a tidal wave; he never wanted to get close to someone so much in his life. He doesn’t know what possessed him to walk over to her right then and there, throwing any sense of caution or apprehension to the wind. Once his footsteps hit the sand, she shot up and immediately turned to face him, clutching at the coat covering her body. He froze, and for the longest time they said nothing; just stared at each other, waiting for a response and wondering what the other’s one’s next move might be.

He was close enough now to get a good look at her- her hair was long, her skin was a cool tone, and her eyes were dark, clear, and blue like the ocean. He reached a hand out and slowly approached her. She lowered herself from her rock and started to walk towards him. He stepped back, almost afraid of her at first, then froze again. When she got close enough, she gently placed a hand on his cheek and traced her fingers along his jawline. He noticed that her skin felt cool to the touch and shivered when he felt her fingers travel down the sinews of his neck and along his collarbone. Through the fabric of his shirt, he could feel the gentle press of her palm over his heartbeat.

The lives of humans had piqued a deep curiosity in her. Each day they would meet at the same spot, and over time, they had begun to learn more about one another. He taught her how to use a bow, while she taught him how to swim and catch salmon with his hands. He told her all about his home and life on the surface. He even cast aside his fear of embarrassment and showed her the fisherman’s dance from his homeland, which amused her greatly.  

The first time Hanzo invited her to his home, she tried saké for the first time. Much to her naivety, she drank too much too fast, and Hanzo soon followed. Before long, inhibitions were thrown aside, their faces glowed, and their bellies were full of laughter and warmth from the alcohol. They were sitting on the sofa by the fire when she climbed on top of him and softly brushed her lips against his, then wrapped her arms over his shoulders to hold him close. The kiss deepened and he held their bodies flush together, his hands taking in every curve, almost worried she might slip away if he let go.

“Stay with me… please.” he whispered into the crook of her neck

Her voice was filled with sorrow,

“I- I can’t.”

His kisses trailed down her collarbone to her sternum,

“You will never want for anything… I can take care of you.”

He paused to look up at her reverently, waiting for a reply,

“Please…”

She had a sad look in her eyes, and then perked up when she thought of an idea.

“A year. I will stay with you for a year. If I’m unhappy, by the time a year has passed, I go back to the sea.”

Hanzo shed tears of joy and wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her into another deep kiss,

“I guess I will have to make you happy, then…”

The legend says that selkies make great wives, but their hearts will always have a powerful longing for the sea. So in order to keep his new wife happy, he purchased the property along with the cottage on the shore where they had found each other. In the morning, he could find her wading in the shallow water looking up at the sky before dawn. This was her time, so he gave her space and stood in the doorway while they both watched the sun come up. During restless nights, she would lay his head down on her lap and sing songs to him while brushing her fingers through his hair as he drifted off to sleep. He fell more in love with her with every passing day.

He bought clothes for her- thick wool sweaters and coats to keep her warm, and light breathable yukatas for warmer days to wear around the house. She loved the intricate patterns of flowers and clouds that were dyed onto the fabric in vibrant colors of all shades; but her most favorite was a dark kimono he gifted her with water lilies that shone bright shades of blue, green, and purple in the black silk when pointed at the sunlight.

The first night they made love was filled with as much nervous but impassioned hesitation as one might expect. Hanzo trailed his warm hands to calm the gooseflesh creeping up on her shoulders and left soft kisses in his wake. She arched her back when his mouth found her breasts and he suckled and rolled his tongue against the small hardened peak and repeated his attention onto the other side. He moved down her body and nestled his head between her legs, holding her hips in place and taking his time. She combed through his air and let out a soft moan when his lips and tongue found the delicate bundle of nerves and brought her closer to the edge all while lavishing her with praises.

He crawled up between her legs and she turned him over so that she was on top of him. She straddled his hips, and teased him briefly by grinding him against her folds then he slowly moved inside. She rolled her hips against him in a slow rhythm, having complete control of the pace. He looked up at her adoringly, then flipped over and started becoming more wild and erratic with his thrusts. She arched up against him and dragged her nails down his back when he hit all the right spots. He held her body close and spread kisses up and down the crook of her neck, whispering soft praises and love into her ear. She cried out when she came and felt a warmth spread as he finished inside her.

Afterwards, they held each other and whispered sweet nothings while he inhaled the ocean’s scent in her hair as she nuzzled into his chest and her fingers traced the lines of his elaborate tattoo. Every night thereafter, he could taste the saltwater on her skin.

He tried burning the coat. Once; on a night after they had been arguing when he was sure that she would find it and run away. He threw it into the fire while she was sleeping, and a minute later he heard a godawful shriek of pain coming from upstairs. She was writhing on the bed and the skin on her arms had started turning a angry and violent red. He put two and two together and rushed back downstairs to pull the coat out and stomp out the fire. He never bothered asking for forgiveness, knowing in his heart he didn’t deserve it, so he expressed his apology through his actions: applying salve to the burns on her skin, dressing her wounds every day, and holding her close every night. From then on, he kept the coat folded neatly in a large lacquered box under the floorboards of the house and never lashed out at her again.

A few weeks later, she had started becoming nauseous at certain smells and vomiting. Hanzo was worried that it was a side effect of her being stuck on land for too long, thinking that she might need to return to the ocean or she’ll die. Turns out, it was morning sickness.

Hanzo was elated at the news, and so was she. They were going to start a family! He brought her into town to shop for baby clothes and furniture, never once leaving her side. James and Aoife were curious about his new wife, having never seen her before in their small tight knit community.

“Where are you from, dear?” Aoife asked innocently

“She’s a selkie, darlin’, I already told ya!”

“Hush, dad!”

James pulls Hanzo to the side while Aoife helped his wife pick out some baby clothes.

“So, it worked, did it?! I knew it! The stories couldn’t’ve all been shite! How’d you do it? How’s life been for her on the surface? She doing alright?”

“James, although we are friends, I would appreciate it if you did not ask such outlandish questions about my new wife. They were only stories, old friend, nothing more.”

Hanzo felt bad for dismissing his old friend, especially since he was right; and James was noticeably hurt by this.

“Alright. Y’know…”

His once jovial expression suddenly grew dark and a grave seriousness was brought out in his tone.

“I’m not mad, boy. My wife Fiona may be gone, but I know a selkie when I see one! Their home is the sea, you know; an’ bless you for living close by, but it’s not the same to them. Once I gave my wife back her coat, she was gone for seven years! But in life, my Fiona was happy and she could come and go to the sea as she chose. It wasn’t until our Aoife was in primary school that she saw her for the first time and decided to stay. You can’t keep her from her home like that without at least giving her a choice! I saw the red marks on her arms… If a selkie’s coat is harmed, they can feel it. Don’t tell me you tried to burn her coat, lad?!”

Hanzo didn’t like being confronted, and he could kill the old man right then and there if they weren’t out in public. The fact that this man knew more than he let on brought out old impulses in Hanzo of wanting to tie up loose ends and how he would do away with a ‘problem’ like this in his old life. But he was a new man now, a good one; and he didn’t want to risk losing the happy life that he was about to have with his wife and child. He only snapped out of his incensed rage when his wife walked over to them.

“Hanzo?”

He almost jolted when she touched his arm.

“Yes? What is it, love?”

“Aoife and I are done shopping. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, beloved; I’m fine.”, he reassured her as he kissed her forehead.

He put his arm around her shoulder and the two started walking to their car. When his wife was out of earshot, he quickly walked over to James while Aoife was talking on the phone to her husband. Hanzo leaned forward then shot a look at James with his eyes full of hatred, and gave him a warning:

“Don’t ever talk to me or my wife again.”

Soon enough, Hanzo and his wife had set up a makeshift nursery in their tiny home, filled with clothes, toys, a changing station, and a canopy crib surrounded by a painted mural of the ocean.

There was a hurricane on the night she went into labor. The contractions had started and she clutched onto her stomach. Because of the weather, it was impossible to bring her to the hospital or call a doctor. While Hanzo ran upstairs to get medicine and the bed ready for an impromptu at-home birth, she slowly staggered out of their home and into the storm.

“I’m sorry”

He ran after her. They got separated when a tree was struck by lightning and fell over, blocking his path. Once he found another way around, he frantically searched the woods and shore until her cries gave way to the sound of the howling wind and roaring thunder. He kept trying to call out to her until his throat was raw and he could no longer make out her footprints in the sand. And in his grief he fell to his knees; the howl he let out was not human.

When the storm cleared the next morning, his exhausted and disheveled body remained in place, too despondent from the night before. His gaze was downcast and empty, staring off into the horizon but focusing on nothing in particular. There was a sound of something lumbering towards him, but he paid it no mind. Then he felt a tug as a bull seal bit down and pulled at him on his pant leg. Once the seal got his attention it started moving its body like an excited dog towards inland, down to where the sea joins with the river. He stood up and decided to follow the creature as it dove back into the water and occasionally lifted its head to turn and make sure he was still following behind.

The seal led him to a grotto a few hundred feet from where he last saw her footprints wash away on the edge of the river. He crept into the small cave and there, laying on her side at the edge of the water, was his wife. Her hair clung to the shape of her form, the dark color giving off the impression of her coat and a small pool of blood gathered at her lower half that trailed down into the water. Her skin was sickly white and pale, and to his relief he saw that she was alive, but barely- her body shivering weakly from the cold.

He rushed over to her side and held her close, kissing her forehead and rocking her back and forth.

“I’m sorry… she needed… the water…”

“Shh shh shh it’s alright, I’m here…”

She turned around to face him and in her arms was their newborn daughter- contentedly nursing at her breast while wrapped up in her own little white fur coat.