#but something i could go around the arctic ocean in

[halfelven]

ideal home is right by the ocean with a lake in the woods easy to walk to and really fast to bike to

[tiredfox64]

I absolutely LOVE your “You Have Freedom” fic!! We need more Havik appreciation—

Can you write about Havik w an S/O that changes her hair almost every other week?? Kinda like Ramona Flowers from Scott Pilgrim.

You’re that bestest ever💖🔊‼️

Chaos Chameleon

Yip notes: Ugh I need to redye my raccoon tails again. I think I need to buy a better dye cause the black part is the only lasting color 😭

Pairing: Havik x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: Don’t clutch your pearls due to dyed hair it’s 2024

It’s a mystery how you could afford so much hair dye and take good care of it to keep the color popping.

You are not the kind of girl who picks natural hair colors like black, brown, blonde, or ginger. No, you go for the colors that shock old people and make children want to be you. From the bright neon colors that are fit for a rave to the soft pastel colors that would have been perfect for a Tumblr post when pastel goth was popular. Why stick to one hair color when the universe has an abundance of colors for you to try out? It’s never too late to have fun with the body you were blessed with.

As much as you loved dying your hair and seeing how the color popped off in the sun, there was someone else who loved the sight of it as well. That someone would be Havik.

He knew you had a bit of a chaotic side when he first saw you with your hair split into two colors. You looked like sweet cotton candy with one side of your hair being a blush pink and the other side being a baby blue. Add in the fact that you had black strips in the front part of your hair to make raccoon tails, you caught his attention quickly. He was already showing you off to Darrius before he introduced himself to you.

“Darrius, have you ever seen an Earthrealmer this exotic? I had no clue they could be so colorful.”

“Well, if you like her so much why don’t you go introduce yourself?” Darrius said in a somewhat annoyed tone, finding Havik’s fascination with some hair to be a weird distraction.

However, Havik took his words seriously and jumped at the opportunity. You could kinda thank Darrius for meeting your boyfriend. If it weren’t for his sarcasm you wouldn’t have seen a large man with a mangled face and strange clothes running towards you. Sure, it was horrific at first but once he complimented your hair you realized he wasn’t all that bad.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Gosh, Havik didn’t know there were so many different colors. And yet you manage to own a lot of them in bottles and containers.

He got used to the smell of hair dye and how it differed between colors and brands. There were a lot of Arctic Fox bottles scattered around while there were containers of Manic Panic stacked on shelves. All of them were opened and used at least once. They had to be considering you dye your hair often. You dye it almost every other week.

It was a shock to Havik. One week it’s like cotton candy on your head and the next week it’s lemons and limes. When he asked you why you changed it so quickly you replied,

“I’ve had it for two weeks, it’s time for a change.”

Sometimes it’s just one color, sometimes it’s split, multicolor, two-tone, ombre, the list never ends. He likes it when you hide one color under another, it’s like a surprise. One moment he thinks it’s just a silvery white but the second he runs his fingers through it, BAM, a plum purple color right under it. Get ready for your hair to get messy and possibly knotted because he will not stop playing with it.

You always clarify the specific color name too. Cause it could never be just blue. It’s always something specific when all he can identify is that it’s blue and sometimes it’s dark. He can sometimes identify aquamarine he just needs to think about the ocean.

If only you told Havik every time you dyed your hair. He’s irresponsible with time, he doesn’t realize when weeks have passed by unless he is waiting for something to happen. The second time you dyed your hair he had no idea it was you at first. That lemon and lime hair now turned into a fiery red that could only be compared to a ripe watermelon. When you went up to hug him he pushed you off of him.

“Get your hands off of me, woman!” He yelled.

“It’s me you idiot!” You yelled back.

“What!”

He stared at you for a few seconds, blinking rapidly before realizing it was you. No strange woman was trying to force themselves upon him.

“Oh…it’s nice.” He tried to fix his wrongs by giving a compliment. The head pat doesn’t fix it either.

Nonetheless, he still loves what you do to your hair. It’s crazy, it’s colorful, it’s a burst of your personality. He’s never witnessed a girl like you. You are a rare, colorful gem who can match his chaotic energy. So…why doesn’t he dye his hair?

Eventually, you would suggest doing his hair. It is quite long so there is lots of potential there. You even have a dark red that would match well with his attire. If that man can wear bones as clothes, it’s safe to say he could allow some dye in his hair. So you pleaded and begged, whined and nagged. Then finally he said,

“Give me a good color. Don’t you dare make it neon or that ugly pastel mess.”

“Aww, but you would look so cute with light pink hair.” You teased.

“…I love you, but I won’t hesitate to rip my head off and crush it just to prevent you from putting that stupid color on me.”

“Oh, you’re such a drama king. Come on, I’m gonna make you my masterpiece.”

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You were like a painter who couldn’t risk anything. Your masterpiece had to be perfect. One wrong move and you might have to switch up your idea.

IF ONLY HAVIK WOULD SIT STILL!

You didn’t do his whole head of hair like you usually did with yourself. Gotta take baby steps with this kind of stuff. You colored some strands of his hair with the front being special. You were going to do a raccoon tail since that was his favorite thing. He specifically pointed it out when you first met him. Plus, he has black hair so there is no need to use any dye for the black parts. Just use that dark red and go for it.

Havik never knew the process took so long. It would have been much longer if you decided to bleach the strands. That would have been a whole new struggle. You wanted to keep the color dark so it worked out. Still meant he had to sit still for a while and get sprayed with water to remove the excessive dye. Did you need to spray him directly in the face? No, but it was funny.

You were about to show Havik the end result but you hesitated.

“Wait,” you paused for a while, “I want to do the other side too.”

“Ugh! We have been at it all day!” Not really but it’s been two hours.

“I promise it will be worth it! I’m having fun with this, don’t kill my vibe!” You pushed him back in his chair before putting more dye in the bowl. Round two here we go.

Yeah, you wanted to dye the shaved side as well. You were gonna do a raccoon tail look for it. Havik had to sit there for another hour-long process, feeling your nails dig into his head to prevent him from moving and having the cold dye touch his scalp. Guess this shows how much Havik loves you. He’s willing to sit here and take it.

Time to splash him with water again. Don’t put the hair dryer on high you’re gonna remind him of when his face first melted off. BOOM! He is finished. You brought him over to your mirror so he could get a good look at himself. And…well…he loved it. It was different and unique. The raccoon tail was what caught his eye the most. He ran his fingers through his hair to see the red and black strands mixed together before separating. You knew he truly liked it once he picked you up and squeezed you tightly to his body. He nuzzled his face against yours to show his appreciation which you gladly accepted.

Just then Darrius walked in and immediately noticed something different about Havik. Havik was about to tell Darrius about what you did but he was interrupted by a question.

“Who is that woman? Where is your girlfriend?”

“THAT IS MY GIRLFRIEND! IT IS THE SAME GIRLFRIEND EVERY WEEK. I CAN NOT KEEP EXPLAINING TO YOU THAT SHE DYES HER HAIR!”

Darrius really needs to take his glasses off when he’s inside.

Yap notes: Can you tell which gear I like to put on him? I enjoyed doing this it helped my brain a little since the writer's block has been kicking my butt. Oh well, time to eat more Wing Stop. Adiós!

[acaptainbyanyothername]

The Midst cosmos is weird, right?

A gravity that spans the entire cosmos, allowing someone to theoretically drop from the Un to the Fold? An ocean of darkness with a mono-directional current? What is the gravitational source? Where does the current come from and go? These questions are not answered with the current cosmic hypotheses you may have seen illustrated in appendices. What if there was more to the cosmos that explained these questions, something that our lovely in-canon scientists have no way of knowing?

(All the credit to @druidposting for churning out these thoughts with me and teaching me about marshes. These theories are as much their brainchild as mine).

Bernhard and Gottle, this is my pitch to join your research team. Say hello to the Theorized Diagram of the Complete Midst Cosmos (a 2d vertical cross-section of the 3-dimensional cosmos):

You may be surprised. You may be off-put. “What the fuck is this?” is the scientific inquiry you may be posing. Never fear— explanations and mad ravings to be found under the cut

The Three Components of the Cosmos

The three components in the cosmos you see represented in the diagram are the Un, the Fold, and a theorized Un-like space below the Fold monikered as “????” for convenience’s sake.

The Fold’s Gravity

The Fold is the gravitational center of the cosmos— the reason why if a Phineas jumps from the Un, he is pulled down toward the Fold

This is because the Fold is a large enough body of matter that its center of mass has a strong enough gravitational pull to affect the Un

The Fold orbits its center of mass in an ellipse, which explains a) why denizens on this cosmos see its surface as something akin to a flat ocean (it is so massive that it would appear that way without the full perspective) and b) why light and the horizon seem to break down in a location such as the Delta, the point of the greatest bend in orbit

With the Fold being an ovoid, that then creates a hypotheses for an Un-Fold space to exist all around the Fold! After all, the “Un” is simply where the Fold is not. The Un therefore is not just above the Fold, as we already know from Midst-canon, but also below it (above and below are of course relative terms when dealing with gravity, but for ease of communication “above” refers to the top of the diagram and “below” refers to the bottom). This “below” space is referred to as “????” in the diagram.

Though it is important to note that the Un is not empty— it has breathable air, as does the Fold! The primary difference are the microscopic Foldlet molecules that make up the Fold, causing it to be slightly denser than the Un and therefore more amassed around the core

Think of the Fold almost as like a gas-giant planet! A huge source of gravity comprised mainly of a gaseous substance that has huge influence over its surrounding area!

Therefore, to continue this analogy, the Un is essentially the gas giant’s outer atmosphere

The ???? Area

So to recap, ???? is a theoretical area of the cosmos that no one within the canon of Midst knows about. It is similar to the Un in that there is a lack of Fold there.

What is the ???? like? Does it have mica? What does it look like? The unfortunate answer is I do not know. Your guess is as good as mine. Here’s what questions I CAN ANSWER THOUGH:

Why don’t the scientists of the Midst-canon know/theorize the existence of the ???? space? Well, imagine it this way: if you were in the Arctic, and the only way you could get to Antarctica was by tunneling through the Earth’s core, you would probably not know of Antartica’s existence either.

Anyone who would attempt to travel from the Un to the ???? would be forced to go right through/by the core of the Fold, aka its gravitational source. That intense of gravity is not survivable! You’re a pancake now, a pancake who doesn’t know there’s anything beyond this. The red dotted line of the diagram demarcates the known cosmos of Midst-canon.

(Side tangent, this is why the Fold is perceived as something more akin to an ocean in Midst-canon: there’s no way to go through it and see the whole picture that it’s a sphere. Even though the gravitational pressure drastically increases the further down you go into it, that is confused with the Midst-version of deep sea pressure!)

If you WERE to travel to the ???? area, you would still perceive the Fold as below you! That is because the perception of “down” is relative to the direction of gravity, and the direction of gravity is still pointed towards the core of the Fold

The Delta’s Cosmic Purpose

Here is where I ESPECIALLY gotta shout out my amazing co-researcher @druidposting. Mirrorhawk dip’s on me for this amazing cosmological thinking.

The Delta acts as a marsh to the greater ecosystem of the Fold! In essence, the marsh accumulates muck and detritus, but due to their good water outflow they end up serving as an excellent water cleanser— the water comes out on the other side remarkably clean!

That’s what purpose the Delta serves, but instead of water it filters tearror systems

The Fold’s Current

So the Fold flows from the Fount down to the Delta, mucking itself up in the process. The Delta accumulates the sediment of old tearror systems, but also filters the Fold so that it runs pure and clean out the other end

The current essentially orbits around the core of the Fold— once the Fold is purified by the Delta, it circles around until it’s on the ???? side. This newly purified Fold fresh from the Delta therefore acts as the Fount for the ???? side. A reverse Fount, if you will.

The process rinses and repeats on the ???? side— the Fold flows from the reverse Fount, mucks itself up, then is purified again in the reverse-Delta, where it then makes its way up to be the source of the Fount as the Midst-canon characters know it!

Therefore, it only LOOKS mono-directional with no end or beginning from a top-down view— really it makes a full circle loop!

That’s all I’m willing to type out today! There are still so many things to be explored— what is this theoretical ???? space like? How do measly isletary gravitational pulls overpower the much larger pull of the Fold? How do things float in the Fold?

Bernhard and Gottle, if you give me grant money more research can be put into answering these questions. Bernhard and Gottle please give me grant money. Please. Please. PLEASE—

[prismaticpichu]

No trigger warnings this time, only feels <333

Parts 1 & 2!

~

“What the HELL is wrong with you?! Why would you SEND me to Modeoheim…?!”

An asphyxiating silence loomed like a ghost between them, thickening the air of the darkened ShinRa corridor, raw and humid and unbearably unbreakable as Sephiroth stood motionless in his grasp.

Blue eyes blazed, inextinguishable by tears.

“Answer me!”

Sephiroth’s chin remained dipped, a wilted spill of quicksilver bangs veiling his expression.

“ANSWER ME…!”

And the silence loomed, ghosts lingering.

“ANSWER ME! SEPHIR—“

“I thought you could do it.”

When the response came, it came coldly, like an arctic whisper that severed the silence with its bitter temperature, and Sephiroth slowly lifted his gaze with an unreadable light reflecting in the emerald ice.

Zack stared into them with all the fire burning in Ifrit’s blood.

“…Do—“

“I thought you could bring him home,” Sephiroth continued on in a merciless breath, the edge of his words honing into something of a snarl. “I thought you could save him, attempt to reach him. I thought you would care. I thought you would help him.”

And the man’s lips pulled back to mirror the growling in his voice.

“Instead you ensured that I would never see him again.”

What transpired in the following moments appeared in nothing more than blinding haze of red, his memory all but engulfed in the famished color’s embrace like an inferno that had swallowed his heart and mind whole. Noise only vaguely managed to penetrate; the nebulous echo of a skull slamming against metal rippled like a bloody current in water; the indistinct grenades of two roaring voices turned into a dangerous weapon of their own.

“I HATE YOU…!”

And his voice echoed, loud and free.

“LIKE HELL YOU’RE A HERO…!”

And echoed.

And echoed.

“YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A FOOL! NAIVE!”

And echoed.

“I should have let Ifrit KILL you…!”

And echoed.

“YOU COWARD…!”

And echoed.

“No…”

And echoed.

“You’re a… YOU’RE A—“

And echoed.

“YOU’RE A HEARTLESS MONSTER…!”

And another teardrop plunked onto the mattress, its echo silent.

“I… I called you a monster.” Zack’s voice had constricted into a watery, painful choke. “Even when we both knew that word was so terrible. I… I must’ve known that it would hurt you, somehow. Somewhere…” He bowed his head over the sanguine-stained sheets, his shoulders quavering with the weight of the horrible memory. “But I didn’t care. Not one bit.”

Seph continued to strain against the pillow, shifting and squirming as if lost to the mercy of a riptide.

Zack held onto his hand like an anchor.

“That was before, though, Seph… Before you showed me what an amazing, kind, loyal person you are…” Oceanic eyes continued to glisten and mist, now shamelessly shedding pearls that crawled thinly down his cheeks. “Before you came over that night… before I broke down into your shoulder… before you told me that you would be there for me now… And—and you always have been…”

“It’s alright…”

He felt the delicate, awkward, yet blessed warmth of a pair of strong leather arms wrapping around him, straining his eyes as he lamented uncontrollably into his shoulder.

“It’s going to be alright…”

Zack used his free hand to wipe at his eyes, clearing them so he could look at the painful sight more painfully clear.

“And now… now things are so much different. They’ve changed so much… haven’t they?” He tried his best to will a smile onto his lips, the slight curve quivering and teary as he squeezed his friend’a hand tighter. “We’re a team now… you and me. You’re my partner. My… my mentor.”

Another teardrop fell, dribbling off the stained rivers on his cheeks.

It’s going to be alright…

“My best friend…”

Sephiroth’s entire body tensed, convulsing tautly under the sheet and linen, an audible and sharp dirge of a sound cutting through his lips as he buried in his cheek in the pillow and convulsed even harder.

It was only seconds after that the tears began to trickle from his eyes.

Zack could only stand there and watch, the mirroring tears on his own visage continuing to crawl, feeling an engulfment of helplessness and agony unlike anything he had ever endured before.

“Hey… It’s okay… it’s okay…” Because maybe if he said the words softly enough, they would be true, reaching out to place his other hand over the trembling warrior’s. “It’s okay, pal… it’s okay… I’m here. I’m right here.”

The tormented dirge continued, a horrid choke cleaving through Sephiroth’s throat.

Zack laced his fingers through his.

“It’s alright, pal…” His voice was barely able to quaver, hardly afloat. “It’s going to be alright…”

[everestica]

Luke Pearce x reader : “I wanna be yours” - Arctic Monkeys

♫ - Reader can be interpreted as Rosa or as their own person! For @minimallyminnie after our very awesome convo about Tears of Themis (Mostly Luke lol)

You and Luke had been inseparable since you two had started dating a couple months ago. Always sticking together, especially in the colder months. You could never figure out how warm Luke always was no matter how cold it was. Luckily for you Luke always had you pressed against him whenever you two had to go outside knowing that you were much colder then he was and he could keep you warm. 

“Let me be your portable heater, That you’ll get cold without”

Even after you two had been dating he would still always see you around with your co-workers laughing and joking around when he came to see you during your lunch time, he had never really minded before but it was when a certain person would come up to you and start talking is when it kinda made him irk. The same person that tried to convince you that you should have never been with him as he wasn’t good for you. He did know that he was no multi-millionaire like Marius or some fancy Doctor like Vyn, but he did love you. 

“Maybe I just wanna be yours, I wanna be yours.”

Finding out that he was apart of something bigger, and having to go on the difficult missions was one of the longest and hardest things you two had ever had to talk about, lots of things were said in that conversation that you both wish you could take back and restart, but no matter what secrets you two have to tell each other and no matter what actually comes out of your or his mouth you both know that you love each other at the end of the day.

“I just wanna be yours. Secrets I have held in my heart.”

Each morning being able to hold each other as you wake up to the morning sun's glow hitting both your and Luke's faces in the morning, symbolizing a new day. It will never get old no matter how many times you wake up with him next to you, no matter how many times he wakes up telling you he loves you, and cuddling into you even more. 

“Hold your hair in deep devotion, At least as deep as the Pacific Ocean.”

“I wanna be yours.” 

♫ - Please if you are going to repost any of my works anywhere else, ask permission first! There will be almost a 100% chance that I will say yes as long as you just ask and give credit! Thank you for your understanding!

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

OC Questionnaire Tag

tagged by: (a lot of people ages ago... haha oopsie) @kaylinalexanderbooks thank you!

tagging: Open Tag and very softly tagging @afoolandathief |  @thewritingsofevbrowne | @writing-sigh | @unhingednovelist | @the-mindless | @arctic-oceans | @rosebury-archives | @zmwrites |

Your OC's interview questions are: -Do have a favorite book (or alternatively, a favorite story to listen to)? -If you could change one aspect of your appearance, what would it be? -You have a perfect day all to yourself! Describe what that would look like.

My OC's questions:

What's the last thing you replaced, and why did you have to replace it?

Where's a place where you've felt that you didn't belong?

Do you trust your instincts?

I'm going to do this round with Kylee (from TCIO), Triveya (from FSF) Max (from FSF), and Nova (from GD). Two OCs I love and two OCs I want to flesh out more and get to know better, so hopefully this will be good! My OCs responses under the cut!

Kylee (The City is Ours WIP) *Kylee is non-speaking autistic and would answer all the questions with either sign language, or a text to speech app on her phone*

What's the last thing you replaced, and why did you have to replace it?

"I think my spinning fidget ring. It's great for stimming but sometimes I go too fast with my super speed powers and break it. I usually go through about three of these a week." She laughs sheepishly.

Where's a place where you've felt that you didn't belong?

Kylee gives a dry snort. "I'm autistic, it's hard to feel like I belong anywhere, I constantly feel like I'm an alien on my own planet. If you had to ask the place I feel most like I don't belong though, it's definitely school. If one more person tells me high school is the best years of my life I'm gonna break something."

Do you trust your instincts?

"Since these powers popped up, my instincts have given me a lot of near misses instead of getting killed, so yeah, I'd say I do."

Triveya (Fractured Stars Falling WIP)

What's the last thing you replaced, and why did you have to replace it?

She sighs and shrugs, laughing nervously, "Potion bottles. So many potion bottles. Not because they broke, I have a spell for that, and haven't broken any of my tea mugs or potion bottles in years. But I do keep losing track of them... I'm just so scatterbrained and lose track of stuff if I can't see it..."

Where's a place where you've felt that you didn't belong?

Triveya shrugs, speaking numbly, "I'm over a thousand years old, I've kept to myself for hundreds of years now... so yeah, I can feel a bit out of place... but even back in my own time when I looked my age... I've always felt different. Not just because I was such a gifted magic user and leagues ahead of my peers, I was even better than my teachers- I just- I don't know, there's something deeper in my core that feels like it doesn't belong in this world..."

Do you trust your instincts?

Triveya chews her lip, and looks around in confusion. "I honestly don't know what instincts mean anymore. A gut feeling? I have a lot of those all the time, always feeling a little sick to my stomach at the idea of failing, always feeling like I'm not good enough to keep up with how smart I'm supposed to be. Like my knowledge is here, but my common sense and motor functions are all the way over there. I've learned to ignore it at this point because it's always there."

Max (Fractured Stars Falling WIP)

What's the last thing you replaced, and why did you have to replace it?

"I don't remember, really. I've always been very neat and orderly, keep to myself. As far as I can remember I haven't had to replace anything yet." (Narrator voice: note the word 'yet', he will in fact soon have to replace something, because plot.)

Where's a place where you've felt that you didn't belong?

Max rolls his eyes a bit in annoyance and frustration. "I'm the son of a high councilman for a kingdom run by a group of high ranking nobles elected by the people. Sometimes I feel like the only person in court with any sense that actually cares about the problems happening in front of us instead of parties... uh, if that counts..."

Do you trust your instincts?

Max shuffles his feet nervously, looking around to see if anyone is watching. "My instincts to stay out of trouble and keep my head down and not start any drama or stick my nose where it doesn't belong? Yes, I trust those feelings."

Nova (Galaxy Destroyer WIP)

What's the last thing you replaced, and why did you have to replace it?

Nova sighs, processors whirring as she fiddles with the metal plates that make up her body. "I have to replace my parts all the time, and it's hard because parts from PIE cost a shiny credit that I don't have. Who has that kind of money in this galaxy? Not me, that's for sure, not since I got scrapped..."

Where's a place where you've felt that you didn't belong?

Nova rolls her eyes, shooting a look at her crewmates. "I'm a highly sophisticated high intelligence android, in a galaxy filled with flesh idiots. Of course I feel out of place, I'm the only one with any sense around here!"

Do you trust your instincts?

She squints for a second, trying to figure out what the question means. "You mean my programming for self preservation? Yes... obviously I do, I'm a sophisticated and well made and programmed android, of course I trust my programming and processors."

FSF Taglist: @rose-bookblood @chalcid @evethenovicewriter @writing-is-a-martial-art @mjjune @fiercely-raging-writer @wildswrites @corishadowfang @surroundedbypearls @serenanymph (send me a message to be +/- from the taglist <3)

TCIO Taglist: @friendlyneighborhood-writer @jessica-writes22 @rose-bookblood @yejidoesthings @space-writes @cljordan-imperium (send me a message to be +/- from the taglist <3)

GD Taglist: @fiercely-raging-writer @aesa @thatprolificauthor @writeouswriter @rose-bookblood (send me a message to be +/- from the taglist <3)

[bodhranwriting]

A Rivalry for the Ages: Talas vs Sixsmith (Tocktick, Bodhrán M.)

Talas tapped his fingers against the nearest glass canister, “Like this beauty.”

“Beauty?” The incredulity was obvious even to Emmett.

Talas’ eyes narrowed and he deliberately turned his head away. “She is a miracle of modern engineering. This beauty will get this hunk of wood flying again.”

The room temperature plummeted from merely ‘icy’ to ‘Arctic ocean floor’.

“Hunk of wood.”

“She’s running so smoothly now, Emmett, you should hear her, she’s as clean as a fucking whistle.”

“The Iris is not a hunk of wood.”

“I think you will see a fucking noticeable difference in how she runs,” Talas went on with what appeared to be suicidal cheeriness, “And the filter is distilling the excess steam down to practically nothing. We may need to fix up the vent outside though.”

“My ship is not a hunk of wood.”

Emmett grabbed Sixsmith’s sleeve and tugged him backwards. If these two were cats, their fur would have been on end.

Fuck this.

He caught Maia’s gaze and – beyond the spark of pain – saw her look heavenward and mutter something.

It looked like, ‘men!’.

“C’mon, Six, I’ll show you your workroom,” Emmett said loudly. He nodded at Maia, who shrugged helplessly, and then added, “If you don’t mind, Talas, we’ll join you for dinner in an hour or so.”

He saw Maia turn a steely gaze on Talas as he hustled Sixsmith out of the room and down into below decks proper.

He didn’t let go until the doors were safely closed behind them.

——————————-/

“It is so smooth,” Talas said in wonderment, “We were just cutting through the sky.”

“Yep, the wind goblins really blessed us,” Sixsmith replied gleefully.

Talas’ face twisted and he snapped, “No, it is because Maia and I worked for a week straight to make this hunk of wood sky worthy.”

“Blessed wind goblins,” Sixsmith repeated with infuriating cheeriness.

“Wind goblins are not real!”

Sixsmith grinned at him and dropped his voice to a whisper, “How do you know?”

“Because there are no pieces of folklore, no scientific studies, no proof that they are!”

“Maybe…” Sixsmith adopted an innocent expression which Emmett remembered with remarkable clarity, “… they’re just hidin' from you. 'cause you dun’t believe in the wind-goblins.”

“You mention wind-goblins one more time and I do not care that you are old, I will punch you in the face.” Talas was practically vibrating with fury.

Sighing, Sixsmith turned to lean on the railing. “You’ve got no romance in your soul, Tally.”

“Do not call me Tally! And there is no such thing as wind goblins!”

“Suit yourself.”

Face reddening, Talas grunted in frustration and stormed down the steps to the engine room. Sixsmith smirked.

Waiting until Talas was clearly out of earshot and the rest of the crew moved back to their tasks, Emmett sidled up to Sixsmith. Trying to keep his face neutral, he murmured, “You know wind goblins aren’t real, right?”

Sixsmith stared at him wide-eyed, all bewildered innocence.

Then he cackled.

“’Course,” he replied, “I’m just fuckin’ with him.”

———————-/

Sixsmith inhaled and then pointed at the balloon. “I could hit that,” he said confidently.

Talas rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes? Prove it.”

“I would if I had bullets –“

“Oh, that is convenient. You never do seem to have the bullets, do you –”

“Convenient? Tally, darlin’, d’you know how a gun works?”

“Probably better than you – and do not call me Tally –“

“Talas! Sixsmith!” Emmett threw up his hands and continued, “You’re both adults. So act like it.” They glared at him. “Please?”

There was some mutinous wordless acknowledgement from both, but as Emmett turned around, he heard:

“It’s a gun, Tally. It’s supposed to have bullets. Whadda ‘m I supposed to do? Throw it at someone’s head?”

“Throw it at your own. Then we all might have some peace –“

“I’ll crack both your heads together in a minute!” Emmett snapped. “Sixsmith, stop riling up Talas. Talas, stop rising to the bait. If not for me ‘cause I’m starting to feel like a schoolteacher, but for my kid. Set an example for Shade's sake.”

The fact the kid in question was watching the argument with the air of someone about to pull out snacks didn’t help.

——————————-/

Emmett’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard. “Lady Dewitt was granted five nightguards by the Board! I’m asking for one!”

“The threats against Dewitt were very credible, Mr Askren.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He was shaking, forcing himself not to back down. Throgmorton was giving him a very sharp look and it was turning his legs to jelly. “But someone has already tried to assassinate the Katsaroses, damaged our ship, and threatened my eleven-year-old! For Shades sake, my pilot has nearly been kidnapped twice!”

“That one is not a problem,” he heard Talas mutter from behind him, “all we have to do is wait the hour it will take them to return him.”

——————————/

“The ball is vital.” Talas said, biting a hangnail. “And if you do not know the correct courtesy, things could go very badly for us.”

“Worse than they are already?” Scarlett asked dryly.

“Much worse. I know what to expect at these events. If possible, I suggest you do as I do.”

Sixsmith scrunched up his nose. “Well, if you provide the stick, I’ll try to shove it up me arse, but I dun’t think I’ll get very far.”

“Fuck you.”

“Thank you very much, you’re not me type.”

—————————-/

[naffeclipse]

Sorry I haven't been commenting on the Apex Polarity chapters, there's been a lot going on recently and hhh,, sorry,,

I'm just gonna go over a few overall things~

Ok, starting with the setting. You've captured the arctic setting SO WELL! I don't understand how you do it but it's all just so easy to visualize when you write it. From the white arctic ice to the small research base and to the dark cold ocean, it's all so well written! I also just love this type of setting. I'm currently a little obsessed with arctic environments and especially arctic research bases. (The Thing has me in a death grip pfpgjdjf) I'm having a very good time hehe~~

You venture into places and explore environments I haven't seen anyone in this fandom write about yet. (maybe I live under a rock and there are more fics that explore settings like this, sorry if I've missed those) What I want to say is I'm so impressed that you can tap into all these different environments and transport us there so effectively! Lovely stuff!!

Michael and Vanessa are holding big secrets, gosh, especially Michael! I want to know what he knows, and what he might be hiding~

I really like those two in this story btw! Y/N needs some good people around to bring them down to reality after their meetings with Eclipse, and so far Michael and Vanessa are doing a great job.

I gotta say, the oatmeal with cinnamon brings so much warmth to my heart. Where I live it's a common food, especially during the winter months. Next time I have some it'll be really hard to not think about this fic. X3

Ok! Now the guy we all are obsessed with! Eclipse!!!

I'm falling so hard for this orca that by this point the impact will be fatal. He's so scary, off-putting and littered with red flags, still I want to cuddle him!? How do you even write a character like that!? How is he turning into a softie!?!?

Every interaction with him gives us something new, it's always so exciting when he shows up! And of course you're taking advantage of all his animal/monster features, one of my favorite things about your writing. You're using his teeth, his claws, his orca body and giving him those animalistic behaviours that just makes him SO FUN TO READ!! He's a creature and I LOVE IT! >:3

So in the recent chapters with the rock, the nap and that little ice block ride, oh my goodness he's sweet! How are you making him sweet while still keeping his forceful behavior!? I'm really wondering if he'll ever stop with the manhandling, will he be transformed at the end of all this, and where will this story even go!! I have my theories, but I feel like they could all be wrong X3

Before I end I'd like to just ask one thing about Eclipse!

How is his relationship with actual orcas? Are they mingling or does he hunt them? Or are the orca families too strong for him and they bully him out of territories and hunting grounds? Or do they just ignore each other?

(Feel free to ignore this question if it will lead to spoilers :p)

I'm VERY excited to see how this story continues, it's been such an enjoyable ride so far! Thank you for blessing us with your writing! ♥️♥️♥️

Meep, I am rattling you so hard right now, you have no idea!!!

Thank you so much! I've really thrown myself into descriptions for this fic as I want to capture the essence of the feeling of a place as intense and wonderful as the Arctic so your comment makes me so so happy!

Ah, Y/N really does need good people!! Vanessa and Michael have got stuff going on :)

Aw, that's super sweet ;-;

AH YES THE GUY HIMSELF!!! I'm really glad you enjoy him, I enjoy him too, writing and in the brainrot alsjdfals but we'll find out more about him as we continue on this icy little journey hehe

I would love to answer this question but I think it might be a spoiler, so I'll just ask that you keep it in your back pocket for later!!!

Thank you so much, Meep!!! I'm excited too and I'm so glad you like it!!

[unculturedmamoswine]

My fic for Forduary week 1: Childhood and school years!

This one is an HDM AU-- Ford's daemon settles and he's not that happy about it. Takes place in the same verse as this ficlet I posted a good while ago. (Short version of an HDM au: people's souls live outside their bodies in the shapes of animals. Kids' daemons can shapeshift but they settle into a permanent form during puberty.)

Ford settles first, not so long after his and Stanley’s Bar Mitzvah. He’s almost relieved. He kind of didn’t want Stan to be first, but he wouldn’t admit it to Stanley. It’s just that people expect Ford to be the more responsible one, and if his daemon’s settled, it’ll get people to take him more seriously. Stan wouldn’t understand that; his feelings would be hurt if he thought that Ford thought he was better than Stan. Not that he thinks that! Stan is the best. The best brother and friend and the bravest and toughest and most fun and lots of other stuff, besides. But he’s not very responsible, and Ford can’t even quite admit it to himself that he loves being seen as responsible when compared to Stan.

So Ford should be really glad that Elisheba’s settled. They’re the perfect age for it, right smack dab in the middle of the bell curve– they’re normal about something for once. It’s just that he can’t understand her form. They used to fantasize about what she’d become, like all kids probably do. Ellie loved to be an arctic tern– a bird that’s always migrating! And they can sleep while they’re flying! That would have been so cool! And she was a green iguana a lot, and even a Tasmanian tiger! Almost nobody had an extinct animal for a daemon– that would have been really impressive. And if it set them apart, made them even more different than their peers, who cared? Ford could take it. He’d had everyone making fun of him for his hands his whole life, he could stand it if people thought his daemon was too different or strange. But Ellie’s form, the thing she’s going to be forever, well. He’s just not sure about it.

Castor canadensis, North American beaver, isn’t really… him. Right? She isn’t anything particularly interesting or special. Nobody brilliant or noteworthy ever had a beaver for a daemon. No inventors or explorers or anything. In movies, do hard-boiled detectives or chiseled leading men have beavers for daemons? No, they don’t. The only beaver daemons in movies and on TV are laundresses or scolding mothers.

The only person Ford’s ever seen in real life with a beaver daemon is a mechanic. A Catholic mechanic with a beaver daemon and arthritis.

“I don’t really get it, Ellie,” says Elisabeth, Stan’s daemon. She’s on the floor of their room next to Elisheba, a red fox at the moment, sniffing at her. “Is being a beaver really that great?” She becomes a perfect copy of Elisheba and loudly smacks her tail against the living room floor. “Oh, that’s pretty fun!” They both laugh and slap the floor until they hear a distant shout from Dad.

“Okay, I guess the tail-slapping is alright,” Stan tells him skeptically, “but not that great. You could just drop one of your books on the floor and get the same effect.” Lisa pops into the air as a hornet and buzzes teasingly around Ford’s head.

“You’re just jealous,” he laughs as he bats Lisa away, wishing that he didn’t agree with Stanley.

-

Ford kicks his feet against the hull of the Stan o’ War. He’s holding a schoolbook, but staring out at the ocean. He should be doing his homework while he waits for Stan to get out of detention, but instead he’s brooding. Elisheba sighs behind him, and Ford frowns. He doesn’t want to turn around and see her squat little form, her dopey face, her long orange teeth. It’s been two days since she settled, and he still doesn’t know how to feel about it.

“You’re just going to have to deal with it,” she says resentfully, breaking their hours-long silence.

“I don’t have to deal with anything. I’m fine. I’m happy! It’s good that we’ve settled,” Ford tells her, feeling his jaw settle into a mulish expression. He can hear her clawed forepaws dig into the planks of the deck. He rounds on her, ready to scold her for clawing up their dilapidated wreck, but he looks straight into her eyes and finds he can’t get a word out.

Elisheba stares back at him, burning with the resentment and disappointment that feels too big for Ford’s chest to hold. Of course she feels the same, how could she not? She’s him, the biggest, truest, most important part of himself. That's the problem.

“I just didn’t think that we’d… be like this.” He feels ashamed to say it to her, even if they both think it. It feels like some kind of betrayal.

“We are who we are!” Ellie slaps her tail on the deck for emphasis. “This form just feels right, what does it matter exactly what I am if we’re still ourself?”

“Hey, break it up!” Lisa flaps up over the side of the Stan o’ War in her largest avian form, a brown pelican. She alights heavily on the deck next to Ellie, reaching a wing out over her as if to shelter her from harsh sunlight. “Man, this is why you need me around, Sixer,” she says lightly. “You get yourself into trouble when you think too much.”

Stan struggles up onto the deck, flopping down with an oof. He sits up, taking in Ford, standing facing his daemon and Stan’s, fists clenched. Ford knows he must be bright red, and hopes Stan thinks it’s all anger.

Stan, who is sometimes so able to be cool under pressure, shrugs off his heavy backpack and his jacket, leaving them behind him in a heap on the deck. The wind flutters through his and Ford’s hair, and ruffles Elisabeth’s feathers.

“Hi, Stanley. How was detention?” Ford mumbles, hoping to change the subject before Stan can even start it.

“Fired six spitballs onto Miss Lackson’s dress without her noticing even once!” Stan says proudly. Lisa preens. “And I even got some homework done, so you don’t have to do it all,” he adds impressively.

Ellie laughs. “My hero,” she teases, and nudges Lisa so hard she has to open her wings so as not to fall over. Ford snickers.

“You should be grateful!” Stan insists, all overblown indignation. Ford knows it’s just to make him laugh, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t work. “Here I am slaving away, learning crap outta books that I’m never gonna use just so you don’t have to do my homework, and you’re here talking to yourself like a crazy kid!”

“I’m not crazy, you’re craz– hey!” Ford grabs for Elisheba as Lisa opens her beak wide, trying to fit Ford’s daemon into her cavernous mouth. Before Ford can grab Ellie, she hisses viciously, flashing her long orange teeth at her brother. With a whoop of delight, Lisa turns into one of her favorite forms, a caiman, and snaps her jaws right back at Ellie.

“Hah!” Stan flings himself at Ford, grabbing him in a headlock while he’s distracted by Lisa’s many sharp teeth trying to take a bite out of Elisheba’s new, permanent tail.

“Hey, I’m planning on keeping that tail, Lisa!” Elisheba yelps, naturally echoing Ford’s thought. “Ow! Stanley!” Stan’s knuckles dig into Ford’s scalp. Ford flails his hands blindly in the direction of Stan’s body, completely forgetting anything he might have learned in boxing.

“Say uncle, Poindexter!” Stan demands gleefully. Ford raises his foot to kick Stan in the shin– it’s a dirty move, which Stan should approve of–but Stan gasps and lets him go before Ford goes for it.

As he straightens up, Ford has a brief impression of Elisheba between Lisa’s shoulders, claws gripping crocodilian hide and incisors digging into her head, perilously close to Lisa’s eye. Lisa turns into a dingo and shakes Ellie off her back with a slight yelp. She bounds over to Stan.

“Wow, jeez, ease up, Fangs,” Lisa complains, as Stan cradles her head in his hands, inspecting it for damage.

“Eh, don’t be such a baby, Ellie ain’t gonna blind us,” he tells her. Still, he strokes her ears gently.

“Yeah, I had everything under control,” Ellie says, panting. “When have we ever blinded you before? The trend would suggest that we will continue not to gouge out any of your body parts.”

Ford, grinning, leans down to pick Ellie up. She’s heavy– must be almost forty pounds. They haven't weighed her yet, which they should. And they need to find out how fast she can run– can she even run? He doesn’t know, but he’ll find out.

“That was pretty good, Ellie!” Stan, satisfied that his soul will survive, reaches out and ruffles the fur on the back of Ellie’s neck.

“Stan!” Ford tugs her away from his reach, embarrassed. They’re getting too old to touch each other’s daemons like they did when they were small. That kind of thing is only for babies and really little kids, which they definitely aren’t. “You shouldn’t do that!”

Stan goes on like Ford hasn’t spoken. “You can fight pretty good in that form, but what else can I expect from a guy with metal teeth?”

“What?” Ford laughs.

“Yeah! Stan opens his own mouth and points inside as if that explains anything. “Beavers got iron in their teeth, that’s how come they’re orange! It’s like rust!”

“How do you know that?” Ford asks suspiciously. 

“I know stuff! I know everything! Specially everything about you,” Stan insists, as Lisa wags her tail charmingly.

“Come on!” Ford punches Stan in the shoulder, grinning at his brother. “You don’t just know that magically! Unless…” Ford scratches his chin, wincing as he scrapes a pimple with his nail.

“Don’t bring up aliens,” Lisa groans.

“It’s a known fact that the protective anti-alien-scanning machinery the government uses to protect national secrets interferes with human brainwaves!” Ford crosses his arms, eyeing Stan suspiciously. “Have you been having headaches? Dreaming about nuclear launch codes?”

Stan groans. “God, Ford, you’re the biggest nerd! I read it in a book, okay?” Stan slumps over to his backpack, Ford following curiously. He pulls two thick books from it, turning and offering them to Stanford. “Here. I figured, you know, you’re a huge geek, you’d wanna read up on Ellie’s form and stuff.”

Ford sets Ellie down, then kneels so she can look at the covers with him. Rodents of North America says one, and Beaver: America’s Engineer says the other.

It’s so strange to feel so many ways at once. It’s surprising, and not, that Stan would do this; Stan would do anything for him, and Ford knows that. But that Stan would do this, specifically, go to the library– the city library! Those are city library stickers on the spines, they aren’t even from the school! All just for him, because Stan is his brother and the only person in Ford’s corner. He grateful, really. It's a nice thing for Stan to do, but there’s a little part of him that’s annoyed that Stan could read him so well. Shouldn’t he get to have some feelings that are private? Oh well. Ford shoves that down, and tries to just be grateful.

Made nervous by Ford’s silence, Lisa says “We didn’t look that close at ‘em but there’s some cool stuff in there. About your fur and your teeth and all the stuff beavers can build. And you’re gonna be a real good swimmer! That’ll be handy if we’re ever lost at sea!” She wags her tail vigorously and nuzzles Ellie, who presses herself close in response.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan nudges the daemons apart with his foot, as uncomfortable as Ford is with all the mushy stuff. “Look, point is… uh.” He scratches at the back of his head.

Ford jumps in to save them both from the awkwardness. “I get it, Stan, really.” He hugs the books to his chest. He’ll say it, partly because he means it, and partly because he should probably mean it more than he does.

“Thank you.”

[justgottafinishthischapter]

How do I go about fleshing out a city and making it feel lived in? Especially when the main protagonists are royal/wealthy and don't see the city from the ground level

A character arc is identified by a few key character elements: namely the Lie and the Truth. The Lie is the false reality they believe at the start of the story, and the Truth is the true reality they discover. This can be an internal lie and truth, such as they are worthy of being loved, or an external truth, like the war is not a way of spreading their nation's greatness to other countries. The revelation from the lie to the truth is the turning point in the character arc, when they start to shift from their Want to their Need. When it comes to building a city, the lie is the glitz and glam they can see from their ivory tower. The truth is the scum and muck that they've never noticed before but was always there. Using LA as a great example, it's a city that looks like a paradise of celebirites, hot people, movies, television, music, and everything else. But LA also has low income housing too. Many flock to LA to chase their dreams, only to end up working minimum wage jobs. Artists successful and failed have higher drug usage percentiles in a big city like LA than other cities. So you need to ask yourself: what is the idealized image of the city. How do those outside the city look at it? Then ask yourself: what is the grim reality of the city? 19th Century london had work houses, child labor, people worked in extremely hazardous work environments where carelessness could lead to getting mangled in a machine, or going home with a lungful of soot. Charles Dickenson famously had a problem with 19th Century London's classism, which is why he often focused on poor working class protagonists.

I would suggest looking at movies and television that involve noble and/or royal characters and take notes on how their old world views get torn down by other characters. Zuko had to defect from the Fire Nation entirely and slum it through the Earth Kingdom to truly see the faces of the people hurt by the Hundred Years War. Amity had to meet Luz in order to realize there was a path forward that didn't involve joining the Emperor's Coven. By season 2, she doesn't even want to join it anymore because she's now searching to find what she wants to make of her own life. Weiss Schnee is a pampered spoiled heiress that was taught to be racist toward Faunus. But by the time she returns to her homeland of Atlas, she flings a random guy into a dumpster for saying racist comments about Faunus. By learning about these characters and how they make these kinds of changes can help you in writing your own characters.

As for designing the city: every memorable location needs a landmark or something about it that makes it recognizable. If it's a fantasy, you definitely want to think about defensibility. A huge seat of power for a royal family needs high walls to defend itself. Even if you're in more of an 19th century Victorian-styled setting, there could still be walls from long ago. Look at other fantasy cities. The Northern Water Tribe resembles an arctic venice, using channel locks to raise and lower the water levels to keep out outsiders, and ice doors to let allied ships in and out of the city. Ba Sing Se is instantly recognizable by its ring structure and its 100 foot high walls. Republic City is most recognizable for the giant statue of Aang in Yue Bay. The towns and cities in Attack on Titan have high walls for necessity to keep out the Titans. Likewise, any medieval fantasy world with ogres and trolls running around is going to want walls to protect the everyday commoners from harm.

Magic or technology can also change how a city is structured. Think again about how Earth Benders are imprisoned on a metal tankard in the middle of the ocean to rob them of their power. Public transportation like a bus or blimp is going to radically change how one gets about town. How many and how quickly can get from one side to the other. Are there hard restrictions on who is allowed where? Is a petty cobbler going to be carried out of Wellington Park by the police so the rich don't have to look at him? In Howl's Moving Castle there is both magic and technology. We see steam powered locomotives, but there's also flying machines powered by magic and the eponymous castle itself uses a fire demon as a power source.

Does your city have to protect itself from flying enemies like faeries, dragons, witches, demons, vampires, griffins, or anything else like that? Walls are great at stopping armies, but stopping a gargoyle from just flying over your walls is another thing entirely.

What about your city's economy? A city on the water is going to rely on shipping, sailing, fishing, and trade. A city in the mountains is going to rely on mining and smithing. An old city likely started as a fort or military outpost, like Paris or London. Other times, cities pop up because a resource was discovered there, or a bunch of people had to migrate all at once and all chose to settle in one area. That's how you end up with a city named Swedesville in the middle of the United States. And a big city especially is going to need to be extremely rich, and probably needs something to lure more people to it. But large cities also cause their own problems, such as traffic jams, higher rent, and crowded streets.

You also should ask yourself your city's backstory and history. Both the glorious stuff the state WANTS you to learn in history class, and the not so pretty stuff that also happened. For instance, my city was named after a lesser-known hero of the Revolutionary War. He was propped up as pretty important when I was in middle school, but aside from his role in the war, we weren't taught much about his personal life. I'm willing to bet he has a skeleton or two in his closet. Every city has a past. What defines yours?

I hope this helped you piece together an idea of what you want to do or where to start looking. And good luck with your writing!

[olympeline]

Still thinking about my National Animals AU:

Micronations would not have animal forms. It’s one of the things that marks them out as not being real nations. If a micronation ever achieved their dream of being recognised, they’d gain a beast form then. If you’re curious about Sealand in this scenario: Peter would want to be a lion like Arthur…but instead he’d end up as a seagull. D’oh! 😂

Overseas territories and small, separate parts of countries (the ones like Hong Kong and Macau that have their own nation-people) would have animal forms. Which beasts they have would depend on their circumstances, but a general rule of thumb would be they’d be the same as the nation in charge of them. Not always, but usually. If the ownership changed then their form might change with it. They have the least amount of control over what they’d become as something that’s not quite a colony but not quite part of the “main” nation either.

Now a few more beast form headcanons from around the world:

Australia: lion → red kangaroo

Pretty easy to come up with these. Just like his big bros over in NA, little Aussie was a lion cub in his early days as a British colony. The adult lion he grew into would resemble the kind in Africa that live in scrubland because I think that would be better for roaming around the outback. So he might not have had a mane? Anyway, unlike biggest bro Alfred, Australia’s break with Arthur wasn’t violent enough for a skin ripping. Australia went the Matthew route instead and changed gradually. Until one day he assumed his beast form and found himself standing on two legs as a big ol’ roo.

New Zealand: lion → ram

The lion route strikes again! Calm down Arthur, lol. Another colony cub who grew into an adult lion and then settled on a different form after gradual independence. That form has to be a sheep. I mean, just look at NZ’s canon design. Making him anything else would be weird.

Sweden: ??? → lion → Eurasian elk

Sweden was once known as “the lion of the North” with a fearsome reputation to match. They still keep the lion on their coat of arms, but I think Berwald has moved on from that stage of his life. Sweden is pretty peaceful these days. Berwald would have spent his conqueror years as an Arctic lion with a pale mane. Then at some point he would have changed into an elk, which is Sweden’s national animal. Not a hunter any more but still not to be messed with either. You don’t want to be on the wrong end of those antlers. Yeah, an elk works. Not sure what he would have started as way back in his viking days.

Finland: reindeer

He’s lapland, bro! Father Christmas lives in his house. What else is he going to be? Berwald would be happy too after his final form change. Now his elk self matches his wife Tino’s deer. Nordic ungulate solidarity. 👍

Seychelles: dolphin

I think only small, isolated island nations would get forms that were completely sea based. Otherwise not being able to come up on land would be too much of a pain. Nation-people like Seychelles would have more space to roam in the ocean than her dry land. So her place to unwind would be beneath the waves. Also fits the big fishing culture there.

Argentina: black bull → silver bull

Antonio’s son: the little black calf who eventually grew up to lock horns with his dad over independence. If Arthur and Alfred had a badass lion duel in the North, then Argentina and Antonio would have had a sick bull fight that shook the plata in the South. Argentina didn’t tear off his skin like Alfred did after he won, but his beast form did change its appearance in a more subtle way. His black hide and horns turned silver because how could the Argent-ine be anything else? If Hima ever gives us a canon Argentina, I really hope he’s a guy to go with this headcanon. I just want this epic bull v. bull clash so badly. 😆

Brazil: ??? → jaguar

I haven’t decided what Portugal would be in this AU yet but, whatever it is, Brazil started as a baby form of that. Then changed into a jaguar after independence. I have no deeper reasoning other than jaguars are awesome.

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

I wanted to post this last night but I fell asleep but we so so need to talk about Axlerod's little "navigating the world without GPS" thing because the movie literally INTRODUCES him with Mel Dorado(news anchor) talking about it and one of the first things he mentions is how Axlerod was PRESUMED DEAD FOR THIRTY DAYS. Until he just like. Showed up or something. Why is this not talked about(I say that as though there are more than five people on the planet that like him). But it also begs the question for me of like.. how much of it was just a bit or like..notttt entirely true. Cause the whole Allinol thing was a sham and supposedly his little expedition was the kickstarter for him getting the idea for Allinol and making the all natural fuel and whatnot so like. I mean he is a land rover, which is basically the UK Jeep in nearly every aspect including history, which basically basically means he is a car that could essentially drive whenever whenever with little to stop him, so it wouldn't be IMPOSSIBLE.

Also also. What are we defining as "Around the globe"? Cause at first I just pictured like across the equator or something but I don't know how much that makes sense. Surely he at least had a plane or something for the oceans. Is around the globe just going and hitting every continent?(excluding the Arctics). Is Australia ever included in an around the globe destination cause it is its own place?

Part of me is leaning towards it not being a sham, I don't know why. He looked absolutely knackered so I feel like SOMETHING happened. But then that also begs the question of like, how did they even have a clip of that anyway. Was he vlogging the whole thing. Please tell me he was. Which I suppose could also be a reason for him getting presumed dead if it suddenly ended and there was nothing. Even if it was faked that man was still presumed dead. But there's also the alternative of they found him and were just like "wait WAIT this'll be great for the press." Or again, it could possibly been faked, but for some reason I'm leaning towards saying it wasn't. Maybe I'm somehow a little biased? But I don't know why I would be cause I know the whole Allinol thing wasn't true, and him converting to an electric was PARTIALLY true, he just didn't have the engine change of going to an electric, so really he's like a funky hybrid, I do have my own little facts to support this if anyone is curious, but the movie was mostly focused on the engine. But I did stare at him and the turntable he has on YouTube for about far too long.

Also also also I want everyone to know that the person who wrote "rakish" to describe Axlerod and his grin in the newspaper that gets shown on the screen for a few seconds was absolutely absolutely me. Which is funny because I always figured Axlerod would be more on the unconventional side like all the other lemons are. But that's all the more reason I wrote it. And the other word in there that gets to me that someone would ever describe him like that but I can't remember off the top of my head. Go watch his turntable I think that exudes rakishness.

It's been two years and I'll still never come up with a proper answer for what happened there, or maybe I will eventually, but man. I almost want to post a picture of how he looked because he was BEAT. He was literally crawling he like forgot he was a car or something. He was covered in leaves from tropical looking trees and there was like a banana bunch on him and I think like a coconut or something. Which I suppose could give me a lead to where he went for his "around the globe" thing but I'll save that botany research for another day. I'm not even going to get myself started on the bit of the press surrounding him before he set off and he had all this equipment and gear and stuff and. I need to stress the fact that he does a wink to the camera before he goes off. It's more of a I-normally-dont-ever-wink-at-all wink but it still makes me giggle.

[angelofthemornings]

Maybe I'll sit the Fisheries and Marine Science degree. (This is a cool school to get it from because it's largely about conservation, there's a guaranteed internship, and they're really, really intense about tribal participation and leadership in the program.) Then they'll never be able to take me away from the goddamn ocean, however, in a way that won't destroy my back.

(I still like airplanes. It's okay, I can buy Microsoft Flight Simulator and if I minor in Arctic Skills, which may be wise, they'll put me through ground school so I'll know what all the buttons do.)

Actually, that's a really good idea. I could probably learn the field easily (compared to engineering or airframe and powerplant), I'd like the work, and I'd be making myself useful. I can actually not really tolerate being at the shore for very long because if you *worked* there, then your relationship with the ocean is different and if you try to go to the beach recreationally you'll just be standing there awkwardly trying to find like a rope somebody needs help with. You feel like a working breed in a penthouse apartment. I don't know what to do with myself there besides wander around looking at things and that never feels like a good use of my time. Job of someone with this degree is to wander around looking at things *productively.*

The cleverest thing about this is that you *can* take the entire degree online so if my health insurance situation gets terminal I can...go anywhere else. Not back here. A fucking Halifax pier man I don't care

I'm sure I'll enjoy making two cents an hour in the field of conservation. (Unless I'm lucky, in which case an environmental branch of the government might hire me to do something like help determine stuff about fishing seasons and then I'll get paid a handsome bucket. Not a *very* handsome bucket but like, above average.)

Picked a really odd week to pull my heart out of the ocean and toss it into my car, I suppose. Still, with an Alaskan education I'd likely end up working in, on, or around the Pacific, so it's probably good it's not in the Atlantic anymore.

[str4ng3rdanger]

I'd love to hear more about the lighthouse au, even if it's just little tidbits and headcanons

okay so since this au isn't as developed as others i will go over a big thing and if i think of anything else to add then i will after

so i imagine that wash pleaded to caboose to help him of all people to get maine out the water after grif comments from on the ledge about seeing thrashing in the water below (because it pains wash to have to think about maine struggling to not freeze and drown in an arctic ocean like christ man) and he knows caboose is one of the more simple and sympathetic of the bunch, and it works.

with a strong grappling hook (considering they are by a base of sorts/if they were told to find power sources there may have been other equipment around), caboose keeps hold of it while wash retrieves maine, who initially struggles until realizing that this is his only way to. not die. and once he is back up, he is finally brought to a point of injury (stabbed, shot, nearby drowned, winded, and probably close to receiving some negative effects of the cold) where he can't exactly retaliate any further, and so the reds and blues manage to tell the personnel who show up that maine died and they wanted to personally deal with his remains when really bro is tired and they're getting him out of there. then they go back to valhalla and the character development begins!!

after all, maine has to either backstab the very guys that could have left him for dead with no clear ai in any feasibly easy sight, or he could take advantage of the fact that he is currently out of wherever he was before and has the vague support of the people around him. so, he decides to try and cope with literally everything going on - he has been doing nothing but chasing down things and killing for the past long while, and he is still trying to get used to not having other voices in his head directing him. i imagine caboose is the first one he befriends because he is entertaining and maine doesn't have to so much of anything to get caboose to talk about something random and fun. this leads to tucker taking the time to randomly stumble on a conversation (which are entirely one-sided since maine doesn't talk) and starts adding to it which leads to tucker becoming something of a friend to maine, and then tucker and caboose plan a thing to get maine and wash to talk to each other because even though wash had come up with the plan to save maine, i imagine they had avoided each other since making sure that maine was alright. they reconcile and things are pretty light-hearted for a while.

they antagonize the reds, which leads to red team getting used to maine as well, and all of them start to bond really well by the time carolina finds them.

now THAT, i imagine, goes very interestingly......but the post is long enough for now!

little side things:

considering doc was at valhalla when they got back, i imagine he had to help maine. wash probably stayed by maine's side until he regained consciousness (as he passed out on the way back to valhalla)

caboose loves to tell stories about church to maine, and encourages him on the fact that "church will forgive you when we see him again" when it comes to the fact that maine was hunting him down (and is indirectly why church went into the memory unit). maine probably wasn't handling such topics well initially, but caboose actually helped him get better at handling any subjects related to ai.

in addition to the above, caboose has had a lot of ai in his head before - he probably was able to somewhat bond with maine over this. maine likes to imagine caboose's perspective with it and sees him in a sense that there is hope for himself, too, even if their experiences with a lot of ai were drastically varying. (caboose has technically had 3 in his head at once though, in the form of alpha, beta, and omega during bgc)

grif keeps trying to steal maine's brute shot (weapon) back, and so whenever the blues kick their asses and whatnot, it is usually what they make the reds surrender.

lopez and maine get along surprisingly well, mainly because maine doesn't say dumb shit and can't interpret lopez poorly or something, and maine thinks lopez is funny so he'll listen to him rant about the reds and blues and might not even know what he's saying but pays attention so lopez appreciates it.

doc says he forgives maine but is passive aggressive for a brief period before warming up to maine being around, which is. pretty fair. doc has definitely asked "did o'malley talk about me??" and he maine just. grunted quietly in response. doc decided that it was up to interpretation.

i love this au it is so funny and charming to think about 💕

[thedo0zyslider]

Explosions Across Lifetimes - Chapter Twenty Four: Magical Mistakes - 3k words

Scott and Fwhip both make some mistakes, but one of them is more egregious than the other

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Fwhip lands in the cold mountains of Rivendell, the snow crunching underneath his boots as he does so. He is here for one reason and one reason only, because Scott had offered to give him the crown. Well, it was more like insisting he takes it than giving it up to him, really.

The Count was a little unsure of what he'd do with the crown once it was back in his hands. He wanted it for himself of course, every ruler did. But Scott had just seemed so desperate to be rid of it, the elf having practically begged him over their communicators.

He had started to wonder that maybe Jimmy's weird behavior at the last meeting or two had been related to the loss of the crown after all. That just maybe the Count had somehow made a horrible, cursed object then passed it around to all his friends for fun.

Scott was waiting for him, outside the small, private residence the elven king had constructed for himself at the start of his rule. He said it was for personal storage, and for when he wanted to get away from the palace. (And, according to Jimmy, it was also for when he, erm, had visitors who weren't there for any kind of formal business. Though that secret wasn't going to be leaving the Count's lips anytime soon.) The house had a very warm look to it, which was a stark contrast to how the man standing in front of it is currently looking.

There is something…. cold about Scott, much more than there normally is. His skin looks paler, and the tips of his fingers give off the impression that they are hardened with frostbite. His eyes are sunken, and shrouded with dark circles, like he's been missing sleep. The whole area around him seems colder too, and usually Rivendell's weather does reflect its ruler's emotions, but today it is different somehow. Like this cold is fueled by something more than Scott's sour mood.

The elf doesn't even greet him, he just removes the crown off his head and shoves it into Fwhip’s hands. He's not even smiling either,and Scottt normally smiles all the time, whether it be for business, or a genuine one, the eleven ruler is normally full of smiles and teases. To see him so…downtrodden is unsettling, especially when the reason isn't his demon sibling trying to kill everyone.

“Here, take it!” Scott says, and Fwhip fumbles to grab a hold of the crown before it drops into the snow below. His voice sounds off, more raspy than it was before, and when Scott spoke he lacked any of his usual energy. The elves’ hands briefly brush his, and it is then he feels how cold they truly are. And he doesn’t touch Scott very often, but he does know his friend is never usually that cold. Scott has a normal body temperature half the time, maybe one slightly colder, but not one as cold as the damn arctic ocean.

“Dude, are you okay?” The Count asks, his own creation now firmly clutched in his hands for the first time in almost three or four months. It was still as heavy as it had been when he first placed it on that festival table, but not enough to hurt someone’s neck if they wore it for too long. He was mostly just glad it seemed to be free of scratches, even with the magical aura he could now feel radiating from it. “You look like a hot mess, not gonna lie.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Scott reassures him far too quickly, and the Count narrows his eyes with every word that comes out of the elves mouth. “Just, had a bad day or two is all.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Scott.” Fwhip responds, not feeling comfortable just… leaving when his friend looks like that. Now that he was closer he could see just how unkempt the eleven king truly was, his hair being a mess and no jewelry adorning him. And Scott always had jewelry, or makeup, or something that enhanced his natural beauty on.

“I mean it, I’m fine-!” Scott begins again, and is cut off by the sudden sound of elytra wings swooping downwards and a startlingly familiar voice yelling out a premature apology right above the two rulers' heads.

The interaction is cut short by Joel, who had apparently been spying on them the whole entire time, swooping in and taking the crown from Fwhip’s hands. How the Mezlean knew they were there, the Count had no idea. But maybe he had just been lying in wait, and had walked into a perfect opportunity to get what he wanted.

Regardless, it ended up with Fwhip trying and failing to chase the little menace of a man down, and Scott retreating to his cabin; with no one quite knowing why his empire was so stupidly cold, or what terrible thing had befallen him to make him look such a way.

Fwhip finds out just exactly what’s wrong with Scott a few weeks later, when he goes to visit his sister in the cliffs. The mountains that surround her empire are cold, unusually so, but he figures that the wind is just extra strong that day, or maybe they had a heavy snowfall the night prior. It’s nothing he can’t handle, and certainly nothing compared to any of his prior visits to Rivendell.

He didn’t expect it to be because of Gem, with a white streak in her hair and looking like she was frozen half to death. She’s standing with her back to the door, and the air around her is chilly, just like it had been at her neighbor's empire barely a fortnight before.

“Gem!” He yelled upon opening the door to the bottom floor of her house tucked away in the mountain side, making his way over to his sister in an instant. “What happened!?” His voice is loud and high pitched with worry, brows furrowed as he examines the change in his sister's hair and the dullness of her skin. Concern and anger wash over him like a wave, drawing out any reasonable thought that would have maybe crossed his mind about all this.

“Oh, Fwhip! God!” The wizard turned around at the sound of her brother's voice, the half dragon at her side in an instant. “It’s nothing! It’s fine!” Her words were quick, and rushed, and the wizard frantically tried to hide the now white parts of her hair. But Fwhip grabbed her wrist gently, stopping his sister and flinching at how cold her skin had become.

“Who did this, Gem?” He asked, holding on to his twin despite the near unbearable cold seeping from her and through his gloves.

“It was Scott—but he didn’t mean too!” Gem said, voice slightly panicked, as if she had anticipated her brother's quite negative reaction to the news. Which she probably had, the wizard having had plenty of experience with her brother and his rather short temper at times. ”His ice magic has been acting up, and he wanted to control it more. When we were practicing he hit me with an ice beam, that’s all!”

“He what!?” Fwhip yelled, grip on Gem’s wrist tightening unintentionally. Though he loosened it once he realized, the half dragon's tail now flicking angrily against the wooden floor below them.

“It was an accident! It’s all gonna be fine! We’re already working on a way to fix it, okay!?” Gem broke free of her brother’s grasp, and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him calm. Though it was already too late for that. As soon as the Count had seen what happened to his sister, he’d become determined to hunt down whoever had done this to her. And he knew that was probably why Gem had seemed so startled at his arrival, and probably hadn’t wanted him to find out until it was fixed, but it was too late for that now, wasn’t it?

“It’s not okay, Gem! He hurt you!” Fwhip yelled again, slowly beginning to shuffle towards the same door he entered from.

Gem caught what he was trying to do, and shuffled after him just as slowly. “He didn’t mean too, Fwhip! For the last time, it was an accident! ” She protested once more, though they both knew it was in vain. Once the Count’s mind was set on something there was very little anyone could do to change it.

“He still hurt you!” Fwhip growled, already turning the doorknob and throwing the door open. He shoved his goggles over his eyes, a low growl seeming to permanently be coming from the back of his throat.

“Don’t do anything, Fwhip! He didn’t mean it!” Gem called after him, her brother already out the door and equipping his elytra again. She moves after him, trying and failing to grab his arm and drag him back inside.

“ Fwhip! Fwhip wait! ” Gem’s call falls on deaf ears, for her twin is already gone and out the door. The Count is heading down the mountain, on his way back to his own empire to grab a little something. A little something to do a bit of damage to his eleven friends' empire. Not a lot, just enough to send a message.

He lands near his storage system, blindly grabs a random amount of TNT he had stored away some time ago, and starts flying back towards the mountain range.

Fwhip arrives at the eleven empire the fastest he thinks he ever has. Usually, the flight takes a good hour or so, and this one probably takes much less time, with the borderline dangerous amount of rockets he’s blowing through. But Fwhip’s flown this fast before, and is pretty confident he’s not going to be the one blowing up anytime soon.

Once the Count’s landed he does a quick search for Scott but gives up rather quickly. Of he can’t lay into the elf for hurting his sister, he’ll just have to go through with his original plan after all. Not that he;s complaining, the half dragon had been itching to blow up something for some time now, to hear the sound of TNT go off and watch the land be destroyed by the explosives he himself had made.

He lands in front of Scott’s house once again, and takes out the TNT, not caring who sees him. The Count places it in a way that would do that most damage, that would explode the most area, knowing exactly where and how far apart to place each one precisely. He was well trained in the art of exploding asshole’s’ houses, afterall.

Though Fwhip doesn’t get far in the end, because there’s the sound of boots crunching in now behind him, barely five minutes after he himself has landed. And with the sound of footsteps falling behind him, there comes a familiar voice that, in the moment, the Count wishes would;ve never showed up.

“Fwhip!?” His brother's voice is directly behind him, and the half dragon turns, startled by the sound and with white hot anger still coursing through him. “WHy are you placing TNT around Scott’s house!?”

“He hurt Gem.” Fwhip spits out the sentence rather harshly, and quickly turns to resume what he’d been doing a moment prior. But Sausage is determined, and moves to grab hold of the others arm, jerking him back and away from the TNT rather harshly.

“What are you doing man!?” Sausage pulls him back further, and Fwhip is not in the mood. So he thrashes his free limbs and his tail wildly, trying and failing to dislocate himself from Sausage’s strong hold. It reminds him of when they were both children, and things like this were just harmless and innocent play fights, and not his stupid siblings getting in his way.

“Blowing up an asshole’s house!” He responds, and fishes for something in one of his coat pockets. AN item he normally would have on him, and hoped he did now, or else this plan wasn’t going to work, and nothing was going to be blown up.

His fingers brush it after a moment, and the Count brings an already worn and used piece of flint and steel into the air. The man next to him sees what he pulls out, of course, and all his dam yelling and protests seem to get ten times louder at the sight of it.

“Wh—put the flint and steel down, Fwhip!” Sausage says, and tries to wrestle the item away from him. Fwhip unfolds his wings behind him, unbalancing the both of them with a growl and almost smacking his brother directly in the face with one. He moves back to his work, balance regained quickly, and goes to throw the flint and steel that he’s already set on fire, towards the red mass of explosive in front of him. If the Mythlander won’t let him get close enough to light it himself, the Count will just have to do it through other, probably more risky methods.

“Fwhip, don’t!” Sausage warns him, and tries to get in front of the Count, but it’s already too late. The flint and steel was already thrown. One piece of TNT is already beginning to ignite, and all the Mythlander can do is grab the others before the first goes off and sets off the whole lot of them.

There’s a loud boom, and Fwhip closes his eyes and covers his ears for a minute or two. Considering how close the two of them are standing, he hopes Sausage does the same. When the noise is done he opens all his senses again, and the outcome isn’t the best, but it’s also not the worst one that could’ve happened.

Only one TNT goes off, thankfully, somehow, maybe because Sausage managed to grab the rest of them in time; but it still causes a good deal of damage. It’s still enough. Half of Scott’s house is gone, the stuff that was held inside now being torn and scattered across the ground, and some of the ground surrounding it has caved in. There are screams for the civilians nearby, and Fwhip figures it's probably too late to turn tail and run. Especially with Sausage yelling at him like he is.

“ Fwhip! I told you not too! What the hell man!?” It’s a rare thing, to see Mythland’s King close to genuine anger. Fwhip knows this all too well, and it’s what sets in just how badly he’s messed up here. Sausage keeps yelling, though the Count barely hears it, as his ears are ringing from something. Maybe the amount of sounds that had just happened, he doesn’t know.

When the rining clears and the Count can think clearly again, it hits him just how badly he fucked up. It hits just how badly he’d let his anger get the best of him, how carried away he;d gotten, and what exactly he’s just done.

Fwhip comes to his senses fully when Sausage finally finishes tearing into him after a good five or so minutes, and stands there, awaiting a response. The Count looks at his brother's expectant gaze, and just blinks back unknowingly. He doesn’t know what answer Sausage wants from him, and couldn’t even give the right one if he did know it. Because there is no right answer or any good reason for any of what just happened.

Sausage repeats the question he’d apparently already asked a moment ago, voice trembling with barely restrained anger. It's enough to make Fwhip flinch, and then stop himself from doing so, because he has no right to act scared in this situation. Not when he did this, and he’s the reason Sausage is so mad in the first place. “Why, why did you do it!?”

Fwhip can only give one reason, a sad reason all things considered. A bad reason. The exact same shitty one he’d given before.

“He hurt Gem.” Even to the Count that reason now sounds weak and flimsy, he can only imagine how it sounds to Sausage. His own voice is small, a newfound shame gradually starting to leak into the edges of it, and it’s certainly a stark contrast to how his brother speaks at the moment. It reminds him of Gem desperately begging him not to be stupid barely an hour before.

“That’s not a good reason to blow up his house!” The Mythlander yells again, throwing his arms up in the air. Fwhip just blinks at him, the coldness in the air enveloping him by the second and sinking into his bones. He can’t tell if the coldness is from the empire around them, or the man in front of him, but regardless it is all becoming just a bit too much for the ginger to handle at that second.

“I….I need to go.” That is all the half dragon can muster out, before he’s turning and opening his elytra and leaving the mountains for good that day. He just…he needs to go home. Get his head straight, properly process this without a sibling angrily yelling at him and telling him just how wrong he was. That part can always be saved for later.

“What , Fwhip!” Sausage’s yell, all the ones telling him to come back, follow him until he’s out of hearing range. They keep doing so all the way down the mountains, into the Grimlands and all the way into his bedroom back in the manor.

He’d messed up big time, and the Count could only dread how the next monthly meeting would go; considering how it was less than one week away. There’s not enough time to hide this, to sweep it under the rug, because it;s going to be brought up regardless of however it's handled. His mistakes are going to be laid out for everyone to see and blame him for, and Fwhip has dug himself into a hole he can;t get out of; he’s made a mistake he can’t even think of a way to fix.

He thinks about how Jimmy’s going to react, and knows that will be the worst part to endure.

[prairiesongserial]

23.4

For every prickly sign he gave them, it still didn’t stop Cassidy from trailing in John’s vicinity for the rest of the voyage.

If John was on deck, Cassidy had an excuse to be there too (“Someone has to sail us in the right direction–unless you want this to become an Arctic expedition.”) John didn’t know what that was, but Cassidy said it with confidence. Since John didn’t know how to sail, he couldn’t argue, even when it looked like Cassidy was doing fuck-all. All John could do was try to avoid Cassidy.

Unfortunately, when he went back inside the cabin, John would inevitably be roped into whatever game Val was playing with the boys. Val hadn’t gotten that nap. The boys were too riled up after his story, and it took constant attention to distract them from their dozens of questions. And then Cassidy would find their way into the cabin too. First it was to make another pot of coffee, then to “see what everyone was doing.”

John left again, and soon after, Cassidy once again had a reason to be on deck.

“Why,” John said. Cassidy had come up beside him to do something with the ropes.

“The god of the sea must want us together,” Cassidy said, shamelessly. “At least for the length of a conversation.” They came around John’s other side to do something else with different ropes. “If you don’t want to talk about where you’re from, that’s alright. How about where you’re going?”

John squinted at them. At their hair, dyed mutant-orange but grown out at the roots. At the multiple piercings in each ear. At their crooked smile. Now he got it. Cassidy was flirting with him.

“No,” John said.

Cassidy laughed–it was genuine and relaxed. They leaned back against the railing and shot John a winning smile.

“You at least have to tell me where you want me to take the boat in.” Cassidy said. “There are a dozen different harbors on the German coast.”

John didn’t care about Germany. Getting the kids out of England was all that mattered. Meeting Cody in Italy would come next. And from there, they might go anywhere in the world, as long as it was somewhere Hemisphere wasn’t. John couldn’t picture the future. What he hoped for, as he started to put together a picture of it in his mind, was laughably impossible. He tried to be realistic, but even then the picture would fall apart. Too many questions he couldn’t answer. Would he bring the princes all the way to Italy? To wherever it was he ended up settling after all of this? Would Cody be there? Would he want to be? Would John let him?

Would John ever find Cody again to find out, or would they both wander past each other forever?

Cassidy was looking at John, expecting an answer. Where to take the boat–this had to be decided now.

“I don’t know,” John said.

“You’re just…taking them to Germany? No particular spot? Just ‘Germany’?” Cassidy bit their lip, forcing down a smile. “Going to release them into the wild? You know, princes are an invasive species.”

“I promised to get them out of a bad spot,” John said. “We’ve done that.”

“Tell me everything you know about Germany,” Cassidy countered.

John looked at them. They weren’t flirting anymore. They were much more tolerable like this.

“Percy and Gawain will be safe there.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?” Cassidy said. “Listen, one daring hero of the people to another, that’s not going to be good enough. Are you planning on keeping them or settling them down somewhere?”

The ocean spray jumped up against the side of the boat, misting both John and Cassidy. John winced, but Cassidy didn’t seem to notice. Their brow was knit together. They looked serious.

“Do either of you speak German?” Cassidy paused. “Yiddish? Dutch? For God’s sake, French?”

John shook his head after each one.

“Aw, fuck,” Cassidy said. “Fuck! Alright. Fine.”

John didn’t know what kind of agreement they’d just made, but Cassidy looked unhappy. They stormed past John. After a moment, John felt the boat change direction underneath him. He hesitated, then followed after Cassidy.

On the other side of the boat, they rushed from one station to the next, following a sequence that was close enough to second nature that they could argue with themselves while following it.

“Can’t even be banished in peace, nowadays,” Cassidy muttered. “Has banishment lost all meaning? All sanctity?”

John found he was now the one following Cassidy around. As annoying as he’d found the captain earlier, their presence was too loud to allow room for his own sour thoughts.

“Will you be in danger?” John asked.

“Hm? Oh, plenty.” Cassidy hustled to the other end of the boat. John trailed after. “They may kill me on sight.”

“You might meet Emilia again,” John said. He was interested to hear whether Cassidy would consider that a good or bad thing.

“Who?”

“Your wife. Emilia.”

“Sorry, of course. The surf is a bit loud.” They came to stand by John. “Would you believe I still carry a torch for her after all these years? Even knowing she didn’t wait for me?”

“Yes,” John said. “You want to see her again?”

“God, no. If I’m that close to the Altgraf zu Hamburg, I have to assume I’ve already been chopped to pieces.”

John laughed. Cassidy leaned crookedly against the railing, clearly pleased with themselves.

“Are you waiting for somebody?” Cassidy said. “Or hoping somebody’s waiting for you?”

John was still laughing; he couldn’t help himself, despite the sobering question.

“Let me guess–she’s a magnificent, fat, American milkmaid with a protective father who won’t let you marry her for less than a thousand pounds sterling.” John choked, and Cassidy took it as an invitation to continue. “Your type is someone soft to soothe those knife-happy edges, am I right? She’s got a smile that’ll melt your heart, tits that’ll–”

“Stop,” John gasped. “Stop–his name’s Cody. He’s not a milkmaid.”

“Cody!” Cassidy crowed. “What’s he like, then?”

John paused.

“Strong,” he said. Then, “I dumped him.”

“Ouch. What else?”

What else was there? Cody kept moving when he should be broken. He protected others as best as he could. He’d locked John in a bathroom and nearly gotten John killed, but somehow, against all odds, he’d managed to save him. John was still mad at him. John loved him. John couldn’t have him, or sooner or later he’d end up breaking him.

He had John’s gun. He’d get out of England alive.

“Nothing else,” John said. He fought his smile back down. “That’s it.”

*

Cassidy brought them to land in a major city. As soon as they left the boat, Cassidy switched to German. Val had a curious, glazed-over look on his face as they followed after Cassidy through the crowded streets. John paid attention for the both of them. He brought up the rear, keeping Percy and Gawain in his line of sight.

“Follow close, follow close,” Cassidy called back in English.

Val had been lagging. He caught up.

For someone who was banished, Cassidy was very friendly. They flirted with no fewer than three strangers on the street. Even if John couldn’t understand the language, he could tell from the pink cheeks and sharp laughter. Cassidy gleefully shouted retorts over their shoulder as the crowd pushed them away from their half-finished conversations. 

“Shouldn’t you be worried about being chopped into pieces…” John muttered. He was only loud enough for Gawain to hear, and the boy latched onto the idea with horror.

“Who’s getting chopped into pieces?” he repeated until John addressed his concern.

“Cassidy,” John said. “Go ask them.”

Gawain sprinted up through the crowd. He grabbed Val’s hand and clung on tight as he shouted for Cassidy’s attention. Cassidy gave John a stricken look, which John returned with a blank expression.

“John said you’re going to be chopped into pieces,” Gawain said tearfully. “Is it true?”

“John said that? Well, he must be right. You’ll protect me, won’t you? Little knight-errant?”

Gawain insisted that he would.

“That reminds me–you boys need to settle on new names.”

That topic of conversation lasted the boys the whole trip through the city. Whatever names they came up with were too English, and taking this criticism from Cassidy, their ideas became ‘too French’ instead. By the time Cassidy had led them through the city center and onto the road out of town, they had also guided the boys toward ‘Menashe’ and ‘Ephraim.’

“Y’varekh’khah Adonai v’yishm’rekha,” Cassidy said, laughing to themself.

The group walked along the road until a forest grew up around it on either side. John began to worry night would fall before they got anywhere; they didn’t have any camping supplies with them, or any food for the kids. Cassidy led them on as if they didn’t notice the darkening sky. They sang a walking song to themself, humming where they had forgotten the words.

“Aha–there,” they said as the forest vanished on one side. John took a few steps from the road. It wasn’t that the forest was gone, but that the land had dropped off into a valley. The forest continued down the slope. From their position on the ridge, the whole valley was visible. It was mostly forest below, but there was a clearing with buildings in the middle. It looked like an ordinary rural town, except for the slightly crooked tower that dwarfed all the surrounding buildings–and trees. 

“Well, it’s been a great adventure,” Cassidy said. “The rabbi there is always adopting foundlings, so two more shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You’re not coming with us?” John asked.

“Why, John, you sound disappointed,” Cassidy said. “But I shouldn’t make little Ephraim’s job any harder than it has to be. Now, in the interest of not being chopped to pieces…”

They started to turn back down the road. John moved into their path.

“We don’t speak any German.”

“Or Yiddish,” Cassidy said, as if agreeing that this was a shame. “I don’t suppose you can get by in Hebrew?”

“You have to come with us,” John said. “You’ve come this far.”

“And only because you’re very cute and I was doing you an enormous favor. Your princes will be safe in town. Hau rein, goodbye.”

Cassidy tried to move past John; John moved back into their way.

“Settle them in. Then go.” John paused, then said flatly, “Gawain will protect you.”

“John, you don’t doubt my story do you? I really was banished. The Altgraf zu Hamburg…”

“Is this Hamburg?” Val asked. “I pictured it bigger than…”

“Well, no. But–”

“So?” John challenged.

“–there are a lot of places I’m not welcome. You’d better hurry; you’re chasing the sunset.”

Cassidy was right. It would be better for John and Val to get the princes through the woods before dark than waste time arguing, even if it meant arriving in town alone. John shot Cassidy a glare.

“Bye, princes. Be good, study hard.” Cassidy ruffled Gawain’s hair on the way past. To John and Val, they gave a two-fingered salute as they backpedaled down the road. A minute later, John could hear bits and pieces of their walking song.

“Study?” Percy asked.

“Let’s go,” John snapped. He stomped toward the fork in the road which would take them down into the valley.

23.3 || 23.5