#gone fishing gold coast

[lightningmcqueen07]

Fishing Charters Gold Coast Deals

Embark on the ultimate seaside adventure with our exclusive fishing charters Gold Coast deals. Spend a day out on the water, reeling in big catches and creating memories that will last a lifetime. Book now to secure your spot and experience the thrill of deep sea fishing like never before!

[timeoveritasconsumofigmentum]

Yandere Fisherman x F!Mermaid Reader

Warnings: Obsessive behaviors, Stalking, Kidnapping, Implied murder(?)

A/n: I tried to use actual boat terminology idk if it’s right lmao, but enjoy ♡ (not proofread)

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖° ⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖° ⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖° ⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖° ⋆｡𖦹 °.

Mermaid!reader that loves to hang out with her marine friends during the bright afternoons. Exploring underwater caves, collecting the prettiest shells, telling spooky stories in sunken ships. Life was beautiful under the sea.

Mermaid!reader who was dared by Kai the stingray to go one of the many forbidden zones (the one infested with humans.) Despite her fear and uncertainty, she couldn't let that flat face call her a guppie!

Mermaid!reader who encounters dozens of dinghies once in the sunlight zone. Consumed with curiosity, she swam closer to the strange shiny devices hanging from the small ships. Yes the ocean floor collected the ships and it's artifacts, but she had never seen such a device.

Mermaid!reader who felt nothing but awe at the plastic fish that they(the fisherman) threw into the sea from their barnacle covered boats, fascinated by their unusual bright colours and shapes. Giggles at the confusion of her friends, their gurgles of excitement sending waves of bubbles along the currents.

Mermaid!reader who starts investigating with her marine friends but finds out the hard way what the plastic is truly meant to do and it breaks her heart. Dozens of her friends gone in a blink of an eyes, yanked into the unknown world. Mourns for the loss of her friends blaming herself for the lack of awareness, makes herself a promise that no other innocent being would be taken.

Mermaid!reader who helps fishes avoid the sharp hooks, warning all that wander too close that they could be snatched up and never seen again. Swears on Poseidon that no more of her friends will be stolen.

Mermaid!reader who actively tracks ships and fishing patterns. Herding the small guppies and airhead fishes away from the coast, sure they understood warnings but that didn't stop their curiosity or lack of awareness.

Mermaid!reader starts using her sharp iridescent shell to cut the fishing lines and collect the plastic bait, the humans obviously aren't using them so what's the harm in collecting them? Besides it would stop her friends from being caught up by the glittering they produced.

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖° ⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖° ⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖° ⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖° ⋆｡𖦹 °.

Yandere!fisherman frustrated from the sacristy of fish coming in. His profit and family business plummeting to the ground from lack of customers.

Yandere!fisherman swore he would get to the bottom of this. His grandmother didn't break every bone in her body for this business to die a sudden death!

Yandere!fisherman who now, never leaves his modest boat, camouflaging himself to stalk the waters every hour of the day. Waits for days with no activity, his sour mood getting even fouler. "If there's nothing there, then where all the bloody fish?!"

Yandere!fisherman who spots a large fin lift out from the water one early morning, a quiet splash following. Snatching his binoculars off the stern pulpit he spotted a human like figure bobbing around the water, clicks his tongue in frustration about to look away when splash! A pearlescent tail jerks out of the water, his eyes traveled along the long fin only to find it connect to the figure he saw previously. Wide eyes stare at the strange creature entranced.

Yandere!fisherman shellshocked from the discovery, sure his grandmother told his stories about how merpeople lived in these water but he just thought it was a bad eyesight and manatees! To think she was right. Wonder soon turned into animosity, so this was the creature causing a shortage of food?

Yandere!fisherman who starts tracking the mermaids every move, determined to capture it. Thinks of the amount of money he would make by selling the exotic legend. He could see it now, towers of gold stacked to the clouds, a large home fit for a king, no longer having to break his back to scrape together enough money to pay his bills, his very being bathed in riches. Oh yes, he would have the sea beast . Dead or alive.

Yandere!fisherman after weeks of planning, decides it's time to capture the beast. Makes a custom bottom trawl, out of clear wire, adjusting it enough to fit the mutant, takes extra care to make it sturdy. As any good fisherman would do, he starts to track her movements.

Yandere!fisherman who writes in detail the spots she would mostly visit(the abandoned boats near the colorful reef seemed to be her favorite?), what distance she was most comfortable in(half a mile away from the dock but continuously inching closer) what time she preferred to come (right as the sun peeked out from the horizon.)

Yandere!fisherman finds out that the mermaid had been stealing the bait deliberately, his callous hands wrap around his booklet in fury wringing the innocent leather, another thing he had to worry about thanks to it.

Yandere!fisherman finally gets a glimpse of the creatures face. Is stunned stupid to see such beautiful features, every detail in her face seemed as they were sculpted by hand with utmost care. The blue hue of the water did little to obscure her beauty, feels something in his chest tighten but brushes it off.

Yandere!fisherman dreams now invaded by the unknown woman. Her opal like scales that seemed softer than cotton, the halo of hair that followed her whenever she moved, bright eyes filled with childlike wonder. Soft supple lips lifted into a small smile. The feeling in his chest returns.

Yandere!fisherman commences his plan at night, gently tossing the net into the water far away from his boat. Lies in wait, white knuckling the thick rope connected to the net ready to pull at any moments notice. Sees the beautiful beast nearing his trap, grits teeth "come on.." he jerks the net snatching the side of her body, her right arm and fin tangled in the thick plastic. Bubbles flurry to the surface panicked splashing accompanying it.

Yandere!fisherman who yanks the net forward creating small waves, the veins in his arms bulging from the amount of force takes large steps back bringing her closer. Has her a few feet away from boat when SNAP the net collapses into itself, her body freeing with every thrash. Let's out a scream of frustration watching the mermaid flee the scene quickly.

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Mermaid!reader swimming back home in pure shock clutching her iridescent shell, unable to filter in the million of questions her friends asked her.

Mermaid!reader who thinks of all the fables and stories of humans snatching merpeople were true, she knew that much, but never did she think she would be one of the missing. She had been so careful, not following the same path or reappearing in the same spot.

Mermaid!reader stays cocooned in her shell like home for days, the soft hues of pink and yellow calming her soul. Small treasures displayed on weaved seaweed shelves warmed her heart, creating a bubble of peace in her rampant mind. The human objects she collected overtime glared at her, an uneasy feeling urged herself to stuff the objects deep in sand. To forget about them and everything about the surface. To forget about the existence of humans.

Mermaid!reader traces the angry marks that indented her tail, curling further on her kelp bed. Regrets taking the dare that made her get so close to the land. She could have been blissfully blind if she just stayed with the cities limits, unburdened with the knowledge of what the coast held. Shivering at the daunting feeling, she imagined what awaited her the moment she broke through the surface.

Mermaid!reader who wants to stay rooted right where she was but the other part who knew the truth, she knew she would have to go back and help her friends. But to go back was a death wish there was no telling that luck would be on her side once more, memories of her stolen friends flashed through her mind.

Mermaid!reader with her mind set, decides to go back. Asks around her city hoping to find out more about humans only to hit dead end after dead end. Deflated, swims to the coral library wanting at least to brush up on the human tales that once scared her when she was guppie.

Mermaid!reader who draws a map of sector starfish. Noting where she was almost taken, she tries to remember where her fish friends would go. They weren’t the brightest bunch so she knew they would be scattered through out the water. Despite the numerous problem she was faced with, she pushes forward.

Mermaid!reader who stays at the edge of the sunlight zone, worry seeps in her veins her tail thrashing in agitating. “It’s not a big deal..I’m just going back to the place where I was almost taken, it’s fine. It’s fine, I’m fine..”. She took a deep breath before releasing, groups bubbles tumbled from her mouth caressing her features. A soothing warmness settles in her chest at the feeling as she tried to the keep up with the uncoherent thoughts she had.

Mermaid!reader cautious of every little thing, swimming as slow as possible. Decides to split the area into smaller sectors, one sector a day. That'll keep her safe. Hopefully. Days slowly crawl by, her wavered confidence stayed stagnant riddled with the anxiety of ‘what if’s?’

Mermaid!reader shakes her head disappointed at the fish who swim merrily around the few hooks in sector starfish. ‘All those warnings floated away from them’ she thought glumly. Sees Kai the stingray stuck in a large net, doesn't hesitate to swim forward sharp shell in hand pushing away her dread.

Mermaid!reader determination set in her features she prepared herself to slash haphazardly trying to free her friend as quickly as possible. Let's out a scream of terror dropping her weapon, realizing her friend was already dead and gutted.

Mermaid!reader distracted by the horrifying scene set in front of her, she barely felt another net underneath the sand lift upwards speedily creating a cage around her.

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Yandere!fisherman who is quite glum from the lack of appearance of his prize-bag of money. Rereads his booklet, noting she would appear most when the tides were rising. The perfect time when fish would trickle in like children at a sweets shop. Reinforces a seine net and buries it in the sand underneath his ship, is about to rise from the water when he spots stray stingray swimming away from his curious eyes.

Yandere!fisherman couldn’t help but to smile.

Mermaid!reader who's dropped onto the floor the modest boat unceremoniously. Starts to beg the burly fisherman to let her go, that she only wanting to keep her friends safe "Please! I mean you no harm! How would you feel if hundreds of your friends where snatched away from home and they were never seen again? Understand me" she pleaded, voice getting hoarse from lack of water. Her limbs ached from the drop, the tight net reopening the wounds on her shimmering tail and torso.

Yandere!fisherman after weeks of watching her from the boat can't help but to tune her out. Not that her voice wasn't as sugary as he imagined, but to finally be able to drink in her foreign features. Euphoria drenched his body, this was real.

Yandere!fisherman thinks of the dreams that haunted him each night, were nothing compared to reality. Entranced by every crease, mole, and scar that covered her very being, studying her features he memorized every little detail. Dark eyes taking in the strange clothing she wore, lingering on the open wounds on her opalescent tail.

Yandere!fisherman who feels cold at the thought of someone else feasting on her beauty. He was the only one deserved to look at her, he watched for months, weeks of planning and yearning to get to this moment. He knew her. She was his. No one was worthy enough to bathe in her beauty. "Shhh, it's okay. Oh, have I got some plans for you sweetheart. But don't you worry your pretty little head about anything, I’ll take care of everything.”

[kordyceps]

OK I mean obviously I'm reading your steter stuff on AO3 but I'd love to know if you have an all time favourite? Either your fave of your own work, or fave of another author's that you rec/reread/still think about a million years later (or both lol)

Oh man, okay, sorry for taking so long to reply to this ask! But it's such a good one and I unfortunately have the memory of a gold fish, so I needed to do Research™ (aka reread all my favs again lmao) so I could answer it properly. 😂

I only have one Steter fic of my own atm, so I guess that's my de facto personal fav for now…

But as for other folks' work, god, there are sooooo many great Steter fics out there!! So these are just a handful of my top favs, and definitely not a comprehensive list!

Five Times Peter and Stiles Troll the Pack by taylorpotato Rating: M | 2.5k | requires an AO3 account to read Stiles and Peter yell at each other in Polish, misleading the pack into think they're fighting, when in reality it's all just like completely fuckin' filthy dirty talk lmao. Short, but very funny, and such a perfect capture of their mischievous dynamic. 10/10, would recommend!

The Devil You Know by Twisted_Mind Rating: E | 11.6k Peter is there for Stiles when no one else is, and uses that to slowly manipulate his way into earning Stiles' explicit trust. And ooooh boy, is it so delicious and spicy. God damn! Cards on the table: this fic definitely won't be for everyone since it wades into some darker waters. But oh my god do I love love LOVE Peter's characterization in it. God, I feel like I could write a whole damn essay about this fic, but then I'd just end up spoiling the whole thing LOL. Just--if you like darker, manipulative Peter and enjoy your sweetness just a wee bit twisted, then 10/10 would recommend!

The Prince and the Pease by luulapants Rating: E | 47k | requires an AO3 account to read Medieval/Royalty AU where Peter is forced to cede his claim to the throne and become a "guest" of King Deucalion's as part of a peace treaty between the two kingdoms. Stiles, who is suspiciously far too mouthy for your average servant, is gifted to Peter as a bedwarmer. This one does such an incredible, masterful job at translating the characters into its setting and time period. The sass, the wit, the wordplay! You can definitely tell the author knows their shit, and my god is it fantastic. The plot itself is also so satisfying -- lots of great ups and downs, and, ugh, just so good! (Be sure to read p2 for the full ending btw!) Needless to say, 10/10, would recommend!

Keeping him (It's all about intent) by sittinginmytincan Rating: M (& E for oneshot sequel) | 121k Stiles winds up slingshotted into his own future, where it turns out he's married to Peter Hale of all people. His only way back is with Lydia's help, but she's gone mysteriously missing somewhere on the east coast while investigating some strange disappearances. Man, this fic….. I feel like the writer for this one must have received a checklist of things I'm into and decided to mark nearly every single one of them lol. Time travel, woke up married, magical theory, an enthralling af plotline -- and it's so thorough. Like, everything is so incredibly well thought out, the characterization is on point, and the development of Stiles and Peter's relationship is just chef kiss. Definitely 10/10, would recommend!

The Striking Complication by aurevell Rating: T | 118k I don't even want to write a summary up for this one because the mystery of it all and peeling back what's happening piece by piece is, imo, the best way to experience it. This story is intense as fuck, near relentlessly oppressive, and impossible to put down. It keeps you constantly at the edge of your seat as you try to figure out what is going on and how Peter and Stiles will survive it, with these heart-wrenchingly sweet breather moments sprinkled throughout. If you enjoy time loop stories, this one is an absolute must read! 10/10, would recommend!

build-a-beau by veterization Rating: E | 41.5k Tired of his dad always worrying about him being single, Stiles decides to pay for a fake boyfriend service so he can finally get his pops off his back about it. It goes about as well as one can expect a fake texting boyfriend you accidentally catch real feelings for can go lmao. This fic is wonderfully witty, with really fantastic banter between the two of them, and it's just so very fun getting to watch the pretend part of their exchanges slip more and more into something genuine. 10/10, would recommend!

Under the Songbird's Wing by mia6363 Raing: E | 87k Stiles is captured and held in captivity alongside Peter, Deucalion, and Satomi Ito. To survive, Stiles runs through lacrosse drills and tells stories, eventually persuading his fellow cellmates out of their shells and establishing a profound, unbreakable bond between them. This one is HEAVY, folks. Like, heavy heavy. But, god, it's also such a beautiful exploration of the characters and the bonds they develop through shared captivity. I don't even know what more to say, really, it's just haunting and lovely and awful and wonderful all at once. In the mood for something that hurts? Then 10/10, would recommend!

[conniesministallion]

☆☆𝓘𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓟𝓸𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉𝟣☆☆

Warnings: Violence! (Rafe/Ward)(Rafe/JJ) Angst!

Pairing: Rafe x Black reader

This is y/n's POV for now

Summary: Waking up in the hot tropical sun, y/n makes her way to enjoy the rest of her summer. Rafe is keeping it together but struggles on his own. This is just the beginning and I like detail so bare with me lol.

A/N: So sorry it's late I scheduled the post and somehow someway it didn't save :((

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" I really could get used to staying here." I manage to croak out of my wine dried mouth. These past few months have been absolute paradise. Trying to convince myself that this isn't better than Kildare is ridiculous. I wish I could stay here for a bit longer but school was starting and I knew I would have to get back to the hot Carolina heat.

Slowly turning on to my side to the ivory colored night stand and grabbing my phone. Finally deciding to check snapchat, the first one is JJ's. I'm not surprised to see his bloody nose but hold on, why the fuck am I tagged.

" Your bestie is a psycho but I'll get my lick back @y/nkitty"

What the fuck? So, your bold enough to tag me but not the one that clearly beat your ass?

First of all, I'm not even there. Second I am not that mans owner, the fuck is he tagging me for! Wait, mkay so back to the fighting shit again? Rafe really ugh.

MayJ: Tag the one you beefing with if you bold mf not his bsf.

I quickly switched to messages and tried to hold myself back from raging on Rafe. He knows damn well I don't do fighting unless it's necessary and knowing him. The fight was obviously over something small.

Rafeybby: Dude are you serious? Got mfs tagging me cuz you don't know how to keep your damn anger in check? 7:42 a.m. Rafeybby: Seriously what was it over? Are you okay? I can't patch you up this time but we can call if you're free. 7:43 a.m.

Being so fed up with his antics combined with him not responding, I swing my feet over the plush mattress making my way towards the white bathroom doors. Washing my face with some coconut facial scrub, brushing my teeth and taking a quick shower. I make out of the restroom when I hear my cousin's high pitch scream from downstairs.

" Y/n your mom made breakfast and we're heading out towards the island to shop in the village hurry!"

"I'm getting dressed be down soon!" I yelled back.

I hurry and get dressed as I grab my phone of the dresser. Realizing that Rafe has yet to respond to me.

Grabbing my purse and making my way downstairs I briefly glance at the polaroid of Rafe and myself sitting on the beach.

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" Is it possible that you have this in gold and silver as a pair?"

Already into the village, I decided to get a piece of the island for me and Rafe to share. Not knowing when either of us would be able to come back together. Summer in Kildare meant more parties, more clients for rafe to sell, and more drama around my friend group. Speaking of, I need to call Ki and Jade to catch them up with my summer. Plus....I wanna know the messy tea that been popping off while I was gone. I turned my attention back to the lady realizing that I spaced out.

" Of course love, give me one second to wrap them for you."

I haven't been to the village since I was a child and standing here at the booth makes me a lil anxious. Much more people here than back a figure 8.

The sun is illuminating over the sand filled roads with taverns covering the coast. Merchants on every end of this small corner of the village. People of all ages gathering and talking amongst one another and even though the heat is suffocating everyone seems pleased.

The scarf around my locs is loose on my head, the thin fabric of my skirt makes the heat feel cooler as the breeze hits my skin. I settled for a tube top my granny made me as a plus. It reminds me of the summers we spend together while fishing for dinner.

" You're all good to go dear! These are the perfect gift for a lover if you have one in mind." She expressed to me. Reaching out her small hand and placing the glitter wrapped bracelets on the counter.

I smile at the old lady who looks at me with beaming eyes.

" I have no lover but I do have a best friend. I'm sure they'll be happy to have a thoughtful gift." I softly spoke. As I grab the bag off of the wooden counter. I thank her as I make my way to find the rest of my family.

" We're heading to Seaside Oasis. Did you get everything you needed?" My mom says as she checks her phone for the reservations.

"I got some gifts and tons of clothes hopefully they'll fit in my suitcase." I giggled back.

Heading to lunch while my dad constantly talks his head off does not sound so pleasant but drinking does.

As we made out way towards the seating area and settle down. I ordered first while my family followed. Of course as soon as the food comes my father starts to talk about his collogues. Choosing to ignore him while sipping on a margarita. I start to think about Rafe, which is what I've been doing constantly while away. I miss him of course but, the constant fights and selling is what makes me worry.

On top of his reputation of sleeping with anything that walks, unless it's a pogue doesn't make it any better. This man spoils me constantly, he doesn't need to but he does. Not with just money either but affection....which I wouldn't be surprised he does with the rest of the girls he whatever I'm getting pissed just thinking about it.

.｡ping ping.｡ Rafeybby: Nice to hear from you too mama. I'm all good how's your trip? Rafeybby: That mf tagged you but has be blocked is crazy. Why do you have him on snap anyway. Thought I told you to block him before you left. 10:30 a.m.

Me: Just call me when you can and don't worry I'm having fun. Just wanted to make sure you were good. Rafeybby: You just gonna skip over what I said? Rafeybby: Don't worry mama we'll talk about it later. Going to Barry's, call when I can.

Umm.....who the hell, does this mf thinks he is? My Daddy???

I stared at the phone with my head tilted sideways. I'm not even gonna respond to his ass. Constantly thinking that I'm going to listen to him is gonna get his ass cursed out. Especially since he knows that it won't work. But for now instead of thinking of what kind of timing Rafe is on, im gonna sit back, sip my drink, and

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Enjoy my summer <3

[ilovecoelacanths]

It’s time for some facts about coelacanths!

I said I’d do this a while ago and I forgot so I’m doing it now because coelacanths are the best and more people should know how cool they are! I did not mean for this post to turn out so long but I promise the facts are very good (how could they not be when coelacanths are so cool)

There are two living species of coelacanth, Latimeria chalumnae, the West Indian Ocean coelacanth, and Latimeria menadoensis, the Indonesian coelacanth.

This is a West Indian Ocean coelacanth, they’re dark blue and each one has a unique pattern of white spots:

And this is an Indonesian coelacanth:

Indonesian coelacanths are noticeably different from West Indian Ocean coelacanths due to their background colouration being more of a greyish brown rather than blue. Their spots also appear more gold due to light reflecting off them :)

Coelacanths are old! The oldest coelacanth fossils date to more than 400 million years ago, and they were thought to have gone extinct about 66 million years ago, until 1938 when one was accidentally caught off the coast of South Africa and found by Marjorie Courtenay-Latimer.

Latimer contacted her friend, the ichthyologist J. L. B. Smith, who confirmed the fish was a coelacanth! Smith was given the honor of naming the fish, and he named it Latimeria after Marjorie Courtenay-Latimer. (Shown below with the coelacanth she found)

After their discovery, people mistakenly described them as the 'missing link' thanks to their leg-like fins, and this myth persisted thanks to the interesting way coelacanths swim, which appears almost like crawling.

Even today they are sometimes called 'living fossils' because of how little they have changed over millions of years. This label is not technically accurate since they are still evolving, but they do have one of the slowest evolving genomes in the animal kingdom, probably because they're already very well adapted to their environment and they don't have a lot of selection pressures affecting them.

Coelacanths can be more than six feet (up to two meters) long, weigh up to 200 pounds, and are estimated to be able to live up to 100 years! They are covered in hard, armor-like rough scales that are themselves covered in tiny spikes called denticles, which help protect coelacanths from rocks and other fish that might want to hurt them.

They also give birth to live young in litters of 10-25 pups and new research suggests they can be pregnant for as long as 5 years! This would mean that they beat out the frilled shark as the record holder for the longest gestation period by more than a year!

(Unfortunately this means that the birth rate for coelacanths is very low, which doesn't help their small populations. The West Indian Ocean coelacanth is critically endangered, and the Indonesian coelacanth is classified as threatened :( )

Coelacanths are what’s called a lobe-finned fish! This means that their fins look more like stumpy appendages than skin that's been stretched over flexible spines. Their closest relatives are lungfish, and that actually means they’re more closely related to us humans than they are to ray-finned fish like tuna or goldfish! Hell yeah!

Coelacanths live in the "twilight zone" which is between 500-800 feet deep. It’s hard to study coelacanths in their natural habitat for extended periods, but they never survive trips to the surface due to the pressure change, so a lot about their behavior is still pretty unknown.

Coelacanths are generally slow moving, nocturnal drift hunters, which means they tend to sort of just eat whatever fish cross their path, but they have a lot of interesting adaptations that make their particular method of drift hunting unique.

First, coelacanths have a hinge in their skull, called an intracranial joint, that lets them open their mouth more than would be possible with just their jaw.

Second, they display an interesting behavior when feeding, where they will float with their head pointed down, almost like they're doing a headstand. They do this while floating along catching prey, and it seems to be working out for them.

Third, coelacanths have a sixth sense! They have an organ in their snout called a rostral organ that functions as an electrosensor to help locate their prey by detecting the electrical signals given off by other animals!

They truly are a unique animal. They even have a caudal (tail) fin with three lobes instead of the two-lobed tail that is common in many fish.

(source for this diagram)

And here you can see the three-lobed caudal fin on a real coelacanth (and also you can have a reminder of how big these guys are. They are not little fish)

It seems coelacanths also have more similarities to their relatives, the lungfish, than we used to think. It turns out coelacanths have a vestigial lung! They have a lung that they don’t use anymore! It’s all shrivelled and wrinkly but it’s there!

They also have a spiral shaped intestine! Some sharks have this too, it’s basically shaped like a spiral to increase surface area for maximum nutrient absorption.

Another way they differ from many other fish is their swim bladder, which is how they control their buoyancy! In most fish the swim bladder is filled with gas, but coelacanths' swim bladders are filled with oil and fat instead!

Coelacanths are also the proud owners of notochords! They don’t have backbones, they’re so old they were around before animals had backbones and they just never got one, they still have their oil filled notochords! Don't fix it if it's not broken, right?

Also, just in case you were wondering, they would not taste good, they are full of all sorts of oils (as mentioned in the above two facts), plus they do have very hard and rough scales. (But also even if they did taste good it would be a bad idea to eat them since there aren't a lot of them left and it's generally considered bad to eat endangered species)

Well, that's the end of my coelacanth facts, so if you took the time to read this whole long post that was just me talking about my favorite animal, thanks for sticking around! Here, have some bonus content!

Coelacanths make a guest appearance in Atlantis: the Lost Empire!

I like seeing them in the movie so I ignore they weren’t discovered when the film takes place in 1914 (easy to ignore) and that they wouldn’t survive the trip to the surface due to the immense pressure change (less easy to ignore but I do it anyway) :)

My friend @thelunarbee even crocheted me one for a Christmas present :’) his name is Milo and I love him so so much

I also drew a coelacanth a while ago, here's where I posted it if you want to see it :) (I mean, I draw coelacanths all the time but those are mostly doodles, this one I actually put effort into)

Alright that's all I have to say, but I hope you liked the coelacanth facts and remember, if coelacanths can survive for 400 million years, you can make it through today. Be kind to yourself :)

[gobodegoblin]

Across the many lands of Vlot'ya, most areas only produce enough food for themselves. In Mizau, the farms can produce only enough for the farmer, their family, and a few more families in the local town. Most people in Drahke'beg Undereyar are hunters, their tropical islands providing plenty for those with aim or strength. The Shieldic and Ontarites are dependent on fishing, with some farming on their larger islands.

In the T'yvan desert, the clans and tribes travel on "Gold-Pigs", hulking beasts that dig up "Sand Potatoes" from the gilded sand, an abundant yet hard to find food source that is equally as juicy as it is bitter. The few cities in T'yva are far larger than "Sand Potatoes" can provide, and yet they survive thanks to thier position on a trade route, allowing them to import food.

There are only three two places that are abundant in food, Yah'shir and Kalopska. Their location on the northern coast of T'yva allow cold air from the north, warn from the south, and large rain clouds from the west to fertalise the land, making it rich and lush. These fertile lands make them crucial to any empire, as troops can be given large rations and salaries of bread, as opposed to other places which must rely on the value of coins.

But Yah'shir and Kalopska combined are nowhere near as fertile as the Deadlands once were. Even now, you can see how fertile the lands of the Deadlands once were, the abandoned cities sprawl into the horizons, the largest of the cities was built to hold nearly 50 million people, over 3 times larger than T'asir today, the largest remaining city.

The loss of this fertile land is possibly the sole reason that another Empire has yet to rise, as the secluded, safe and bounteous lands of Lainet are long gone.

[no-truth-left]

1.014 - Ask about town

Collapsed roofs, collapsed walls, and collapsed fences sag against the road; she can't find a single house that stands proudly. It's as if there is a weight here that mere wood and brick cannot withstand. What houses stand are corrupt, spotty with mildew and rot.

“Gracious,” Chie says, her hand over her mouth. Internally, she winces. Is she really going to insult Jethro's hometown after he's taking her to see a doctor, free of charge? “It looks like a hurricane came through here.” There. Saved it.

Jethro glances at the houses, trepidation in his gaze. “Not a hurricane, per say,” he starts slowly, trailing off.

Oh. Didn't save it. Jethro doesn't continue, and the conversation lulls. Chie lets herself take in more of the yards. What grass grows is gray and sickly. Fish bones, cans, tires, and other junk litters the ground. Something moves from inside one of the houses - a golden flash and then gone.

Chie bites the inside of her cheek and walks a bit faster.

“So… is Innsmouth mainly a fishing town?” She asks, eyes sweeping the dilapidated homes for more movement.

“Today, yeah,” Jethro says. “Back in the 1920s, we used to sell gold. There were… wrecks, off the coast, full of jewelry and stuff. The locals working for Marsh would bring it in, smelt it down-” He motions to the large black building on the cliff “-and sell it off.”

A door creaks loudly, then bangs shut. Did she see a hand? Or just loose hinges?

“That income must have been useful for them during the Great Depression,” Chie offers.

Jethro sucks air through his teeth. “Yeah. It must have been.”

The conversation turns to mundane small talk. As they talk, the small road opens to a larger square. Weeds pop up from cracks in the paved road, and the uneven bumps and dips hold cloudy water. Jethro leads, and Chie carefully picks her steps behind him.

They pass the Gilman House, the place Jethro had said tourists stayed at. Warm orange light filters out from dirty window panes, and the smell of frying fish wafts towards her. Several blocks down, they pass a square, concrete building with no windows. Its front doors are a bland, brown-painted metal and a plaque next to it reads “The Esoteric Order of Dagon.”

[zikadraws]

So about your last post about the lings mutations and everything. It is all so cool and creative. What if the inklings and octolings are actually working for a way to eliminate the radioactivity, or maybe they came up with some kind of medicament to lower up the rate of developing mutations?

(Thank you :>)

Oh I'm sure they've been trying to, once they somewhat identify where the problem is coming from. Which takes some time when you assume that's just something that happens because it's been happening for so long.

I think they can somewhat sense the places where the radioactivity is the most dangerous (it gives Seafolk headaches and dizziness and generally triggers their "Let's Nope out of here" instincts), and that's why they generally stick to the coast when building habitat, because the inside of the continents is most affected by nuclear poisoning. (That and also cultural and instinctive reasons. What came from the sea sticks to the sea.)

However, since it's been up to 10 000 years since the nuclear outbreak, the time mark around which nuclear poisoning really starts fading out is up, and these mutations are slowly getting less common. Which is a good new, but that also means that it would occur to the Seafolk that their mutations aren't, like, normal. Though to be honest, they did not really catch that yet. Save for a few particularly perspicacious individuals, still a bit too isolated and considered as nerds to be really relevant yet.

Although, once they get that they got a problem, a potential good solution to that would be, not so surprisingly... Salmon Eggs.

The Salmonids, as we know, live in a forbidden zone of the ocean, and I like to suspect their QG might actually be located in abandoned, flooded nuclear power plants. Literally the most radioactive place of the oceans... And yet, they are somewhat fine, and even thriving out of it.

(That's why they look a little fucked up, and also it aligns with notably the "Gone Fission" Salmon Run level. Also you know how nuclear waste is usually pictured as green sludge ? Well that also matches their 'ink'. (Also iodine is medically used to help against radiation poisoning and there is a ton of that in fish.) So yeah nuclear salmon.)

And it's been widely demonstrated in the Hero Mode that the Salmon Eggs are a source of power and pretty much an organic gold mine. So why wouldn't they, as well, be a remedy to radioactivity ? It isn't that much of a stretch, and I could actually bet that Nintendo is gonna pull out a fast one like that.

✨"Where's there's Salmon, there's a solution~"✨

So all in all, it would be extremely beneficial to come to a peace agreement with the Salmonids. Politically, ecologically, technologically, biologically and medically speaking. But unfortunately, all of this continues to be obstructed by Grizzco's work and propaganda, and the hostilities related to the Octarian alliance.

And the upcoming septa-centenary (or every 70 years ?) Great Salmon Invasion, where "pinkfish will emerge from the sea, to devour all living creatures" is not going to make things any easier... Although if it does, it sure would make for a great story.

[warehouse-fujiki]

What is the "John Mung Denim Project"?

John Manjiro, a great man born in Tosashimizu City, Kochi Prefecture, is known for having gone fishing at the age of 14 at the end of the Edo period (1603-1868), during the period of national isolation, and being saved by an American whaling ship after being shipwrecked and cast adrift, and then going on to receive an English education on the East Coast of America. After that, he participated in the gold rush and wore clothes and neckties. After returning to Japan, he went to the U.S. again as an interpreter and brought back a sewing machine in addition to an English dictionary and a camera. When he returned to Japan with his friends, he also brought back denim fabric, making it clear that he was the only Japanese who was able to make jeans in the 1870s. Thus began the "Johnmung Denim Project. The first model, a denim blouse and waist overalls, were inspired by those made in the early days of jeans. They were made in an extremely idyllic way, sewn by Manjiro on a single sewing machine.

[kariachi]

Hey, look, another quick wher ficlet. A bit of a sad one this time. Is what happens when someone is loved so much.

~~

They called her Lady, ‘Queen of the Dockyard’ to replace the name she never gave. Even now, Turns passed the last time she’d pulled a ship in or out of drydock, held a chunk of precious wood on place, or let herself be used as scaffold, there wasn’t a sailor or shipwright that didn’t tip their head and ensure her eyes were properly shielded from the sun. She had been there before any of them had been glints in the eyes of their fathers, after all, and that earned respect. Even if her golden hide had long gone grey, and meat had to be brought to her already butchered.

Not that she found herself hungry anymore. Her last meal, a fat young steer, had gotten only a few licks before she’d turned away. The appeal was lost, her workers panicked. Despite any and all reassurance and calm she had broadcast to them, the alarm had been raised, healers demanded and sent forth. One had come all the way from the Weyr on dragonback at the insistence of the Seaholder. There was nothing to be done, of course. She knew it, the healers knew it, the sailors and shipwrights knew it.

That hadn’t stopped the thrill of affection for their care, of returned love, and a wispy sorrow.

The last few days had been filled with forced smiles and little work. She had not moved from her pride of place, overlooking the ships she could barely see between old eyes and layers of fabric, instead all had come to her. With blankets too small to keep her warm but cherished all the same, scratches to eye ridges and jaw, sweet oils she could no longer smell for her dry hide, good luck charms. The cooks of the Seahold brought out big pots of steaming fish broth, and the children their favorite toys, the more learned even books to read to her. Each break in the work of the shipyard brought her fellow whers, more her children than not, to rest at her side.

One hundred and thirty-three Turns was nothing to be scoffed at. Ten clutches hatched, countless ships built, more people born, raised, trained under her watchful eye than any could hope to ask for. They knew all she could hope to pass on, and together, with dragons in the Weyr again, they were as safe as she could hope. Still, she waited until all were gone, back to their work, back to their homes, before she shut her eyes, broadcasting her love and affection as far as her mind could reach.

The Sunshine Lady of Tecre Seahold never heard the keen go up, or the days long silence that followed after. The muffled sobs that accompanied her burial at sea, a labor that took every able wher and shipwright on the coast. Never saw the work put into the greatest ship built at her docks, the Grand Gold, nor the mosaic of her likeness put upon the walls of the main hall.

The people would swear it was the least they could do for her.

[lightningmcqueen07]

Experience the thrill of fishing with our top-rated Fishing Charter Gold Coast Broadwater! Whether you're a seasoned angler or just looking to try something new, our knowledgeable crew will ensure you have an unforgettable day out on the water. Join us for a day filled with excitement, relaxation, and plenty of opportunities to reel in that big catch. Book your adventure today and make memories that will last a lifetime!

[llaberration]

Coyne's Chronicles: Shadow Over Yfiria- Chapter 15

Coyne, tired from riding all day, fed the two small men a little cheese and bread, and gave Bubbles a bit of leftover dried fish. She was a bit uncertain about it at first, but with a little encouragement, decided that it suited her well indeed in this new form. He gave the hardening end of the bread to Blobfus, who made cheerful little boiling sounds as he spread over the stale surface and began to dissolve it.

After that, Coyne fell asleep. Tired from riding all day, and being the 'responsible adult' of the group for so long. The gold made a strange but not entirely uncomfortable surface to sleep on, and the shape of the crop supported him nicely as he slept, his arms wrapped around his middle, with Bubbles attempting to climb up and sleep on his face.

For someone who signed up to be a wallet, he was definitely starting to feel like a nursemaid.

They flew silently through the night, and as the sky began to lighten, Fez woke Coyne to bring out his occupants well before dawn, while he sought out a safe place to conceal himself for the day. He could see the coast on the horizon, and took a course to get to it as swiftly as he was able, flying to ragged cliffs, and searching along them until he found a cave well above the water level. The dragon made a few passes to ensure it was not already occupied before fluttering down into it and landing, bringing his tired wings to rest on his back with a sigh. He walked the cave end to end to make sure it was thoroughly empty and secure before laying himself down on a smooth area of the floor, yawning.

“Are we safe?” Coyne asked.

“We are. I have found a cave to spend the day. It will hide us from the eyes of man.”

“Good,” Coyne wriggled a bit, “Can I come out? I'd like to stretch my legs.”

Fez considered this, then shook his head, “No. I do not know a lot about this area. I would not want to risk you wandering here. The ocean can be fickle and dangerous... and this coast is known for having some less friendly inhabitants. I will rest a lot better knowing you are all there and safe.”

Coyne let out a little sigh, wriggling again, but then settling. “There's not a lot of room in here you know.”

“Well... you have two solutions to that,” said the dragon, yawning as he settled, tucking his long neck down around the slight bulge and settling.

“Oh? What're those?”

“You finish eating the rest of my gold to make more space, or you opt to spend your time in my belly instead.”

“Thanks for that...” laughed Coyne. “I think it would take me quite a few sittings to finish up all this gold. As for the second option... I think we both know that wouldn't be a good place even for me. I'm not prone to death but I can still get hurt. I can still feel pain. And strangely I'm allergic to acid.”

“Unfortunate,” shrugged the dragon with a chuckle. “You'd best get started on that gold then hadn't you.”

Coyne sighed a bit, looking down at the heaps of coins as the dragon went still, his breaths settling to calm, resting ones. Trevor and Alan were sitting on his knees, above the level of the gold coins, looking at him. “You definitely can't eat all this lot. You'll hurt yourself!”

Coyne laughed, nodding, “I know, don't worry. I'm not going to try to eat it all. We still have a few minutes before dawn so if I do some now, it'll be gone soon so you can go back in.”

“So... your health is based on your wealth, right?” asked Alan.

Coyne nodded, flipping the first coin into his mouth. “Mhmm.”

“So when you're poor, you're like a starving man, correct?”

“Mhmm,” Coyne gulped, but showed he was still listening as he grabbed for a few more coins.

“Do you gain anything from having more?”

Coyne swallowed another coin and paused to reply, “Sort of? I have limited magical powers and spells, and they do get stronger when I have more money. I don't know where that caps out, but it probably does at a point. My other form though, that gets a lot stronger with more coin. You haven't seen it yet, have you?”

“No,” said Alan.

Coyne held out his arm and pulled back the cuff of his travelling cloak, showing his iron wristband to Alan. “See this? These exist in both my forms. Wristbands in this one, the iron banding on my other form as a chest mimic. See how it's kind of pitted and worn? Well last week it was rusting away. It takes time for these things to repair themselves after I get to that state, but when I eat enough gold, they'll change into different metal little by little, showing how my other form is getting grander to cope with the amount of gold I have... and the bigger and grander the chest, the bigger and scarier the mimic. Potentially, with ridiculous enough wealth, it can turn into things other than a chest.”

“Oh... I've only seen drawings of chest mimics...” said Alan, “All teeth and tentacles... is that... how they actually look?”

“When they're strong and healthy, yes,” said Coyne with a shrug. “When they're young or weak they're... little and kinda pathetic.”

“Sorry... I didn't mean that to come off as... monster-ist...”

Coyne laughed, shaking his head as he returned to eating coins, pausing to reply in between them. “Don't worry, it's fine... honestly I'm not really aligned with mimics in general... they didn't accept me any more than the humans did so...” he shrugged, running a gold coin across the back of his fingers in a ripple motion, an old trick he had all but lost the dexterity to do as he had become more fatigued and emaciated. His hands were coming back to him properly now, the age and weakness of his joints and tendons easing away. He'd be all but healthy in no time.

He ate until it began to strain a little, then he leaned back, glad dawn was almost with them to ease the sheer weight of the treasure. It felt good to be full but Gold was a heavy metal. He slid down among the coins to lie, his legs bunched up under his bag upon which Bubbles was sleeping. The two mages walked down onto his chest where it was flatter, and settled. He was just falling into a doze when dawn came, and his belly grew immediately empty, causing Trevor to yelp in surprise as the firm surface he'd been sitting on suddenly seemed to 'cave' and grow soft. “Sorry,” chuckled Coyne, raising a hand to gently help the mage higher onto his chest. “Should've warned you.”

Trevor shot him an almost glare, and sat down, putting his head between his hands. “We must be absolutely insane,” he said, looking at Alan.

“Why? I mean... yes but... why now?” asked the blonde mage.

“I mean... look at us! We're tiny, we've been eaten by a dragon. A dragon...” he gestured wildly around them. “We are sitting on a mimic...”

“Half mimic,” clarified Coyne.

“Sitting on a half-mimic...” replied Trevor. “That cat is a horse for goodness sake!”

Ignoring a self-satisfied mew from Bubbles, Alan shrugged, “That last one shouldn't bother you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can turn into a horse or a cat and still be a Trevor.”

The druid paused, considering this. “Well. Yes. I suppose.”

“I know this is all crazy Trevor but... if this is how we escape the college... it's not so bad. They're nice. Weird. Weird. But nice,” he glanced at Coyne. “No offence?”

Coyne shrugged, “None taken. From your perspective it's probably true. Humans on Yfiria keep magic pretty under-wraps in their society so no wonder all this seems odd to you. But the world out there, at least on the other side of the wall and beyond, is full of it. Before they began interfering with things they shouldn't have touched, Indimnis was a different place. I used to travel there sometimes before the war became actively militarised, it was a nice city, far more magic-accepting than Sidkenhall because by then the college had begun taking control of everyone and everything in the south. There was no wall, but all magic users knew not to go to your kingdom.”

Trevor frowned a little, “I always assumed everywhere was like us.”

“Nope. Don't get me wrong, humans have always had kind of a weird relationship with magic, at least going back as long as I can remember, which is a while.”

“Do you... remember being human?”

“Huh? No. Not at all. I have...” Coyne put a hand to his head, his face wrinkling as he tried to consider how best to explain it, “Not memories but... knowledge? Like inherited knowledge without context from my human part... nothing with feeling or emotion but awareness of the things the mage knew.”

“So you don't know who he was?”

“Not a clue. Just some mage that got himself cursed with some kind of undying thing and then got eaten by a mimic. Honestly I have as much knowledge of the mimic as I do of the man... which isn't a great deal.”

“Isn't that kind of sad for you?”

Coyne shrugged, “Not really? I can't miss something I don't remember experiencing. Whatever the mage was before me it doesn't matter to who I am now. We're basically entirely different people... or monsters.”

Alan shrugged a little, shaking his head, “I suppose as long as you're happy, that's the important thing.”

Coyne grinned, “I'm happier now than I was a few weeks ago, it's been a wild ride since I met Fez but not a bad one. I know it's a lot for you at the moment but, he's good. You'll see. He'll help you out. Keep you safe from the college.”

Alan gave a small nod and a smile, “We're going to be a lot safer ironically.”

“You were always safe in Meadowfield,” said Trevor, “They would never have anything happen to their precious little anomaly.”

“Not outside things no... but...” Alan glanced at his friend, a little hurt by his tone, “you never heard them talking about experiments. You were scared of being weaponised, I was scared they would actually start experimenting to figure out where my powers came from. Cut my eyes out and poke around underneath. I still had plenty to worry about but I figured if I did everything exactly right all the time they would never have a reason, or an excuse to do anything with me.”

Trevor went quiet for an awkward moment and then mumbled, “Sorry.”

Coyne sensed a need for a subject change, and gently moved his hand to grip Alan. The small man was growing more accustomed to being handled, and relaxed into the grasp, letting himself be lifted. He looked at Coyne almost expectantly. “Are you going to eat me now?”

Coyne grimaced a little at the choice of words. “Well, I don't feel safe to sleep or rest until I have the two of you safe. I don't want you getting buried in coins.”

The little mage nodded, “Just a sec...” he reached up and carefully removed his new glasses, “Almost lost these last time...” he said, folding them down and tucking them up one of his sleeves, which he proceeded to hold shut with a hand to keep them safe. “Okay... I'm ready.”

“We really need to get you some better robes,” said Coyne, gently plucking at the worn material with careful fingers.

“Oh this... yeah I was trying to seem less... wizardy...” said the man lamely, “I could really use something better, these are itchy,”

“Remind me to say that to Fez when he wakes up. I'm sure we can arrange for something.”

Alan nodded, then went back to looking expectant, and Coyne smiled, gently raising the small body to his mouth and starting to push him inside. He didn't like to admit it to himself... but he wasn't actually disliking it any more. They were warm and soft to swallow, unlike coins, and though he did miss that tang of gold flavour... they certainly didn't feel bad inside. He threw his head back in a businesslike swallow, and tried to make it as quick as he could, wanting them put away safely.

Soon enough, he was cuddling down into the gold coins, his stomach lightly filled with the two small mages. He found himself actually thinking he might miss this once they were able to return to full size and move about by themselves.

Some hours later, Coyne grunted as he was shaken awake by movement outside. He opened his eyes to an oddly hairy darkness, and sat up quickly, dislodging an annoyed Bubbles from sleeping on his face. “F... Fez?” he asked sleepily, pushing soggy hair out of his eyes.

“Good afternoon Coinpurse, are you well?”

“Iunno... Sleepy...” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Whatimesit?”

“Late afternoon,”

“Still time for there to be humans about?” the grogginess was fading now.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well... I figure we're about to leave the continent aren't we? Since we're at the coast I assume that your dragon council has to be out there somewhere so... before we go, the mages could be more presentable... for your dragon friends.”

“Oh! I hadn't thought of that. They do have a certain... look to them don't they?”

“Apparently it was on purpose. To make them look less collegey or something like that.”

“Well I suppose it does do that. There will be robes where we are going but I can hardly present them as they are now. Alright. we should be able to sneak you into a town to buy a couple of sets of robes but don't wander, and don't draw any attention to yourself.”

Coyne smiled, reaching out to gently press his hands into the inner curve of the space, “Getting protective of me Fez?”

The dragon grumbled a little as he got up. “It would be... a frustration to lose three assistants in one go.”

Coyne smiled and settled down as the powerful body moved, padding to the entrance of the cave and looking around.

Fez looked in all directions with care before hopping out and up the cliff into some bushes. Here he paused to examine his surroundings again briefly before taking off, flying low and fast to avoid drawing attention, he swiftly traversed the landscape until he knew they were not far from a town. Then he dropped into the trees in a patch of woodland and carefully brought Coyne out. He helped dry the man with a small burst of magic, and poked at his travelling cloak. “Do you have your new friend?”

“The slime? Yeah...” Coyne felt around until he located the creature and drew it out.

“He can stay with me. You can't be caught carrying a monster around with you if you're pretending to be normal.”

Coyne nodded, and gently transferred the blob to the dragon's cupped hand, gently patting it on the top. “You stay,” he said.

The slime bubbled merrily at him, and with an approving nod, Coyne began to walk.

“Coyne? Town's that way,” said Fez, pointing.

“Right right...” the mimic grinned, changing direction.

Coyne hurried his way to the town, glad to find it was early enough for shops to still be trading. He sought out a tailor of reasonable quality, and purchased two new sets of robes, going what was likely to be a little too big to be on the safe side, and swiftly leaving with his purchases. He had no desire to spend a lot of time around people right now with the two tiny mages still sleeping innocently inside. He swiftly returned to Fez, and the dragon carried him back to the cave, where they settled quietly. Coyne sat leaning against the cave wall, watching the ocean, and Fez lay beside him, his legs tucked under his body like an enormous cat, his head resting on a stone so that he too could watch the waves.

“Fez,” said the mimic quietly after a time.

“Mmm?”

“I... I have a question.”

“Mmm?”

“Is... it safe? The Quat-del-nae? Not for me... obviously it's safe for me... I'm more worried for them,” he placed a hand against his middle, and the dragon chuckled.

“I see,” said Fez, raising his head and moving it to rest on Coyne's lap to the mimic's surprise. “You've grown attached to the humans you didn't even want us to get.”

“Well I... you can see why I might have concerns... humans are so... breakable...”

“And you are worried that once they're out wandering around, the vicious dragons will get them?”

“No... I know it's more civil than that but...” he looked down and noticed Fez was wearing a mischievous smile, and he huffed as he realised he was being teased.

“I understand,” chuckled the dragon, “You are correct in a way. They are fragile, and the dragons are mighty... even their assistants can be far mightier than a pair of mages.”

“I'm just concerned...”

“I believe I have a solution that may ease your mind,” said the dragon. “I can create something that will help,”

“You can?”

Fez nodded, raising his head, “Here,” he rather abruptly ejected Bubbles onto the mimic's lap, followed by his bag. “Hold these. I shall go to work right away.”

Coyne blinked, grasping the surprised cat gently to calm her, and looking up as the dragon stood, “Should I be worried? Are you going to do something crazy?”

Fez gave him a devious grin and padded off to the back of the cave.

“Fez I have one request... don't turn them into more cats okay?”

“Deal.”

Some time later, as the sun was starting to lower in the sky, dyeing the clouds pink-orange, Fez returned, looking pleased with himself. “May I borrow them?”

“Which them?” asked Coyne, gesturing at himself, viewing his body to be something of a menagerie with Blobfus in his shirt, the two mages resting in his belly, and Bubbles sleeping on his lap.

“Them them,” the dragon poked his stomach gently with a claw.

“Fiiine...” sighed Coyne, sitting up and tensing. A moment or two later, he gently held the two soggy, slightly confused men out to Fez.

The dragon smiled broadly at them, “I apologise for the sudden awakening and extraction from your shelter, but before we head for our destination, I must make a few small amendments,” he gestured for Coyne to put them down, and then leaned forwards, a cloud of sparking purple magic engulfing them from his nostrils as he muttered a few low-toned words.

A moment later there was a kind of ear-popping sensation and a clatter of the two mages falling over, both back to normal size.

“There we go,” said the dragon, nodding approvingly.

Alan blinked, looked around, then checked himself over to ensure he was still in one piece and human. “You fixed us!” he exclaimed in surprise.

“I did,” said Fez, “Coyne do you have those new robes?”

The mimic grabbed the robes and stood up, offering a set to each of them. Foresty green for Trevor, royal blue for Alan. “I got them a little big because I didn't know how they would fit,” he said apologetically.

“Oh! Thank you,” said Alan, taking the robe, “It looks like it will fit fine,”

“Did you assume green because I'm a druid?” asked Trevor, glancing at Coyne.

“Iunno,” said Coyne, “they had green and it just seemed right.”

“Don't bully him, you love green,” said Alan, giving the druid a shove.

Trevor, still a little wobbly from his energy drain, stumbled a bit, but held up his hands to concede. Alan was right after all.

The two men changed while Coyne and Fez averted their eyes, and Bubbles stared rudely at them because apparently that's what cats do.

Shortly thereafter and with the two mages looking a lot more presentable, Fez called them forwards and proceeded to supply them with the same upper ear piercing he had inflicted on Coyne, leaving a small gold hoop in each. They weren't set with claws like Coyne's was though, instead, each had a small stone set onto the band like a bead. These looked faintly opalescent and glittered with a sheen of what Coyne knew to be magic.

“There we go,” said the dragon, admiring his work as Trevor cursed the pain quietly to himself.

“This... this has magic in it doesn't it?” said Alan, slipping his glasses down his nose to look at Trevor's earring.

“It does indeed,” said Fez, smiling. “These are tokens marking you as my assistants. They will help ward off any of my brethren that show too much interest in you. But on Coyne's expression of concern, I have given them another feature. If you squeeze the stone and speak the key word, you will activate the spell. It has enough charge to work twice daily. Go on, give it a try, the key word is Denthar.”

Alan, looking a little bemused, did as he was told, squeezing the thing, and saying the keyword. In a whoosh of purple smoke, the mage let out a surprised little shout and fell backwards.

Trevor, his attention drawn from the stinging in his ear by the shout, looked up and instinctively went to catch the falling man. However, there was nothing to catch. Alan appeared to have disappeared.

A moment later when the purple smoke cleared, it was quickly revealed that instead of disappearing, the man had in fact reverted to his tiny size. He was sitting on the cave floor looking shocked.

“See?” trilled Fez with glee, looking immensely pleased with himself. “Now, when you feel you are in a situation you need to be hidden from, or kept safe, you can have Coyne hide you away, and you'll be protected by his monstrous nature and magical unkillableness.”

“That's not a word,” said Coyne, quickly coming forwards to pick Alan up, not liking the small man being on the cave floor alone and exposed like that.

“Do you approve?” asked the dragon, all but purring with how clever he thought he was.

“Yes actually,” said the mimic, gently holding the tiny mage against his chest. “It gives them a quick get out if you're not around.”

“Can we reverse it ourselves?” asked Trevor suspiciously.

“No, alas not. Fitting both spells in such a tiny trinket would have been all but impossible. You will still have to rely on me to repair your size.”

“Still... at least we can hide ourselves better now,” said Alan, shrugging.

Trevor looked at him, his face a bit softened as he saw how tiny the other mage seemed in Coyne's hands. He came forwards, forgetting that he had been about to object to with their new trick, “Look at you... I didn't realise before how tiny we were.”

Coyne smiled, holding his hands out, “Want to hold him?”

Trevor's hands flicked nervously at his sides, then he slowly raised them to accept the offered mage.

Alan allowed himself to be gently slid into the druid's warm palm, and he settled there, looking a tiny bit nervous about it as he glanced up at Trevor. He knew Coyne always handled them gently but he hadn't been in the druid's grip before, and wasn't certain Trevor would know how gentle to be.

He shouldn't have worried. As a druid, Trevor was more than used to handling small animals, he knew the careful touch it required, he cupped his hands lightly and looked up at Coyne, a bit lost on what to do.

“It's okay, he doesn't bite,” chuckled Coyne.

Trevor drew a slow, nervous breath and brought the tiny man a little closer to look at him, Alan obligingly gripped one of the druid's thumbs for security with the movement, and they looked at each other in silence, both observing how entirely different the other seemed at such a scale.

“Just don't get any ideas about trying to eat him like Coyne does,” said Fez, nudging the Druid with his nose to get his attention. “Your body processes food. Coyne's doesn't.”

Trevor blinked, then glared at the dragon indignantly, “I wasn't thinking of eating him! You might get that in your head as your first thought when you're looking at a human, but surprisingly other humans don't.”

Fez smiled at him, a broad and mischievous grin with abundant glittering teeth, showing that he had only been teasing.

Trevor deflated a bit at this, sighing, “That sense of humour is going to take time to get used to. We haven't been around humour for quite a while so... you'll forgive me for taking everything literally.”

Coyne smiled, glad to see the druid back down and admit this, the man was slowly growing easier with them, “You know... I still haven't seen you turn into anything, not since the bear anyway...” he said, wanting to keep the man down this path of opening up. “Why don't you show us something? Do you have the energy for that?”

Trevor tilted his head a little, “You're interested?”

Coyne nodded, and even Fez leaned a little closer.

“I... don't see why not...” said Trevor, holding his hands out to offer Alan back to the mimic, who took him carefully.

“Okay...” the druid moved back a little bit, “I don't have a lot of impressive forms... mostly ones that would be of use for the college... they limited what I was allowed to learn so...” he tensed for a moment, and closed his eyes. A cloud of green and black smoke emerged around his body, shrouding it in a cloak of magic, and concealing the transformation. A few moments later it evaporated and in the spot where the Druid had been standing was now a horse. No particular breed, the horse was kind of Cob like in build but on the larger side, marked in shades of brown with an untidy mane. It looked expectantly from one of them to the other.

Fez smiled, “I'm impressed, you're much smaller than Bubbles, but you managed to keep pace with her well in this form,” he said, reaching out a clawed hand to gently raise the horse's head a little and look him in the eye. “Yes, very good, we shall have to expand your range of forms now that you're free,” he nodded his approval.

Bubbles, visibly excited to see another horse, trotted over, mewling loudly as she began to wind herself between his front legs. “And look... you've made a friend,” chuckled Coyne.

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We are getting pretty close to being all caught up now! Less than ten chapters behind anyway lol!

[jorvikpov]

Tonight, the island is dark.

These days, in fact, it is almost always dark. The sun barely rises anymore, only just peeking above the horizon at midday. It is a quiet, solemn season, a long wait for the winter solstice to pass and the days to begin getting brighter. This winter, they say, is different from all the rest: it is too cold, and too uneasy. There are whispers in the villages that something strange is afoot: some say they have found footsteps leading nowhere in otherwise untouched snow far too soon after a blizzard, and others tell tales of strange silhouettes or unseen, yet strongly felt, presences in the woods just before the storm started growing, almost as if something was there, conjuring forth the wind and snow. All such haunting stories are forgotten in the peaceful hours, when a deep, blinding white blanket lies over the island, so wondrous and bright and sparkling it almost makes up for the many missed hours of daylight—but in the long, cold, raging nights, grandparents will gather their grandchildren around the fireplaces, telling cautionary tales of snow and magic alike.

In a small, seaside village on Jorvik’s western coast, the Tuesday night is following its usual routine. The lit candles around the streets are beginning to burn out, storeowners finally packing away their wares or locking up for the day, children tucking into bed and adults sitting by their windows with a book, the evening paper, or simply each other as company. Many will flinch and open their curtains as a bright light shines through; upon finding its origin, they will draw the curtains shut, return to their business, though perhaps in a different room, and never speak of the sight that met them. In many years, the few children who snuck a peek at the strange occurrence may tell their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren of the lonely, cold winter night that the sun rose, if only for a moment.

Atop a hill overlooking a quaint fishing village, you glow with the light of something—someone—long gone; it is powerful and bright beyond your comprehension, and yet perfectly within your reach. In front of you, a small, strangely metallic apple hangs loosely on a branch that seems almost to reach towards you; the apple reflects your light, colouring the world a deep, blinding gold. Around you, just out of the light’s reach, are dozens of green, glowing eyes. They watch you, and they wait. For what, you do not care to find out. You take the apple, and you tell your horse—quick nudge to its sides, quick click of the tongue—to run.

[gumnut-logic]

John spun the polished wooden wheel of his ‘bird and relished as she responded ever so smoothly. The waters weren’t the blue of the deep oceans but they had their own beauty.  His right eye acknowledged the green-tinted turquoise, but his mechanical left eye saw so much more as it skipped across the spectrum in pure reflex. He couldn’t help but be captivated by the beauty of the world around him in such a rainbow of technological advance. Even seeing through the steel glass of Five’s forward ports.

Travelling this close to the coast also provided much spectator sport for the various different fish in the area. Gordon would no doubt be cataloguing in his lab.

The thought of Gordon was in itself somewhat depressing. His frogman brother continued to blame John for what had happened to Alan.

Not that John had any argument with that assessment. He was to blame, but it was unpleasant to see his brother suffering.

To see them all suffering.

Scott had dashed John’s hopes of their father’s assistance, but now the Commander was back on board, John could finally take some action.

Preparing his Thunderbird for long distance travel at speed was something he enjoyed and took great pride in. Virgil may be the mechromancer in their family, but John had his own skillset. His ‘bird kept them all safe and hidden. She served as their base as they travelled the seas and, on rare occasion, she could even crawl ashore.

But for the majority, she was simply their home.

Even when Gordon left food scraps on the floor.

Again he was thinking of his younger brother.

A sigh as he angled to dive a little deeper to avoid one of the newer steam crafts with a much larger draw than the older ships.

“John?”

He startled as Eos strode onto the bridge.

“What do you think of this arrangement?”

He stared at the automaton. She had obviously been into Virgil’s spare parts locker again. His engineer brother would likely soon appear outraged yet again. But this time it appeared she had had a little more success is finding what she was seeking.

Unfortunately, the result required John to avert his eyes. His artificial eye whirred in its socket, flicking through the spectrum until it settled back on normal sight. “Eos, if you so choose to wear an anatomically correct body, you will need to clothe it.” While she was still the deep gold of brass and the silver of steel, she had obviously taken some time to form the metal into a good simulation of the feminine body. “Mere decency requires it.”

“Really? I shall take that as a compliment.” The metal woman actually spun on the spot, cackling. Yet again John found himself questioning his past choices.

He hadn’t drunk a drop of alcohol in the year since waking up with a hangover, one cursed by god, to realise he had invented, in his drunkenness, a creature that had nearly seen the death of all of them.

Scott was still wary of Eos and the automaton kept well away from the Commander fearing he may tear her limb from limb out of spite.

John doubted he would. He had given his word, after all. But it didn’t hurt to have a little threat in the creature’s life if it helped keep her under control.

And then there was Virgil.

It was always Virgil.

The mechanic become engineer born mechromancer was the centre of all of this. John had suspicions that perhaps his brother’s fingers had been involved that night. Virgil had been as drunk as he, yet took no blame for what was obviously an artificial life form.

Spark lit fingertips were capable of many things. His brother had proven that with Gordon.

Memories of those early days still kept him up at night.

Their fish brother should have died. Both legs gone, innards messed up enough that he couldn’t feel what he had lost.

But he had survived long enough. Long enough for Virgil to craft in metal. Enough for his brother to lay those sparking hands on that broken body and do whatever it was he had done.

Scott refused to speak of what happened and he was the only one with the pair of them at the time. All that John knew was that their eldest brother had had to carry Virgil from the room and that the mechanic had been laid up for over a week afterwards.

But Gordy was breathing.

Their brother clung to life long enough for his broken body to heal. He would never regain his legs, but Virgil soon fixed that as well.

Gordon’s gait was very recognisable as his mechanical limbs propelled him smoothly wherever he wanted to go.

Virgil refused to talk about it anymore than Scott, and Gordon claimed he did not remember.

John was caught between his need to know and the blessing of still having his brother.

The brother who currently hated him.

“John, why aren’t you looking at me?”

“Because you are indecently dressed, Eos. If you choose to sport a female body, you will need to cover it.” He toggled a number of switches, checking the communication relays he had launched into high altitude on approach to New York the previous week. The mechanisms were high enough to be hidden from all but the most sensitive instruments, ie. International Rescue’s, and yet still provide the necessary connections with London and the sister cities of their agency network.

“What is the point in that? How will I show what I’ve created if I have to cover it up?”

“Become a seamstress.”

She paused at that and tipped her head to one side. “That is an interesting thought.” Another pause as she obviously processed the concept. “I will need fabric.”

“Speak to Virgil.”

“Oh.”

Her tone was entirely suspicious. “What?”

“Um, I don’t think Virgil likes me at the moment.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“I may have borrowed something I shouldn’t have.”

“Borrowed?” He tried not to sigh. This was a far too familiar story. Apparently, John would need to delve into his supply of Jamaican coffee again.

“Acquired.”

“Can you put it back?”

“Not really. It is bolted on here.” He looked over in reflex and was rewarded a view of her metal posterior.

He shut his eyes and hoped their detector equipment would warn him if he was going to hit anything. “Eos, please put some clothing on.”

As if to emphasize the moment, there was a sudden bellowing roar that had a distinct baritone to it from elsewhere on the ship.

In response, Eos scuttled out the door, very much the automaton more than the graceful woman her new shell claimed she was.

Another sigh.

Apparently, he had two brothers who now disliked him.

The sooner they started on this expedition, the better.

-o-o-o-

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Henry Golding

full name: Landon Nor

nickname(s) / goes by: Landon

pronouns & gender: He/Him

sexuality: Bisexual

birth date: February 10th, 1989

birth place: Merrock, Maine

arrival to merrock: Born and raised

housing: Downtown 

occupation: Fisherman & Bartender 

work place: Bartends at Anchors Away

family: Father, Mikhail

relationship status: Single

PERSONALITY

Landon can be described as a jack-of-all trades; he enjoys working with his hands and learning new and useful skills. He's that friend you can call on if you don't want to hire a plumber or contractor, happy to help with his DIY skills whenever he can. Though very generous, he's definitely a more 'show not tell' kind of guy, and can come off as rather sarcastic and distant from time to time. He'll often put others before himself for better or for worse, but will never ask for help or admit when he's struggling. Landon also harbors a lot of resentment for having to give up his dreams to take care of his ailing father though it's something he's buried and will deny until the end of time. Though he wouldn't do anything differently, sometimes he can't help but wonder how his life would have turned out if things had gone to plan. Can be very flirtatious, especially when he's bartending (because, hello, great tips). and when he's not working on the boat or at Anchors Away, you can usually find him outside or doing some form of physical activity. 

WRITTEN BY: Ray (she/her), est.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: death tw, parental death tw, cancer tw, sex work tw

Landon's journey began in the quaint fishing town of Merrock nestled along the rugged coast of Maine. Born into a world of salty sea breezes and endless horizons, he came into the world amidst the bittersweet sorrow of his mother's passing. Her death during childbirth left a void that could never truly be filled, but Landon's father, a rugged and determined fisherman, dedicated his life to raising his son with all the love and care he could muster.

Their modest life was painted with hues of simple happiness. Landon's early memories were woven with the sound of seagulls and the scent of saltwater, as he spent his days by his father's side, learning the art of fishing and earning his own place in the family's tradition. Early mornings before school and weekends were marked by the rhythm of their boat against the waves, and as Landon grew, so did his love for the sea and the bond he shared with his father.

In their close-knit community, Landon's intelligence and ambition were evident to all. The town's residents saw a bright future for him and spoke words of encouragement that painted a future of limitless possibilities. With such unwavering support, Landon harbored dreams of becoming a doctor, a goal that seemed attainable against the backdrop of his coastal upbringing.

As time marched on, his father's sacrifices became more apparent. Selling their family home was a testament to the lengths he would go to ensure Landon had a shot at a different life. Landon's path led him to Cornell University, where he pursued pre-med studies with the same determination that guided his fishing ventures. Yet, life took an unexpected turn as a shadow fell over their lives once more: his father was diagnosed with cancer.

In an instant, Landon's dreams of medical school were deferred as he shouldered the responsibility of caring for his ailing father. The fishing business became not just a way of life, but a lifeline for both of them. Days blurred into nights as Landon navigated a demanding schedule, determined to provide the love and care that his father had once showered upon him.

Years of struggle and perseverance followed. Landon's father's health teetered on the edge, but through unwavering resolve and modern medical miracles, he went into remission. However, victory came at a heavy price, leaving them drowning in medical debt that seemed insurmountable. It was during this desperate period that Landon made a choice that would forever mark his soul. He turned to sex work, a decision born out of desperation, as he grappled with the chasm between his childhood aspirations and his current reality.

In the shadows, he found a way to alleviate their financial burdens, though the shame was a constant companion. But Landon's determination never wavered; he finally managed to free his father from the weight of debt and secured him a peaceful retirement home. Their reunion was bittersweet, for Landon's sacrifices had been immense, leaving him to accept that his life had taken a much different path than he'd initially hoped.

Today, Landon finds himself living in a fixer upper with roommates downtown, not far from the familiar shores of his hometown. He leads the family fishing business with a combination of nostalgia and determination, a tribute to his father's legacy. By night, he stands behind the bar at Anchors Away, serving up drinks and stories to the city's denizens. It's a life that offers comfort and stability, yet the pull of the past occasionally drives him back into the world of sex work when he needs to make a quick buck. While it's not a trade he engages in regularly, Landon's determination to reach full financial freedom and take care of his father has him unable to resist the allure of the trade. Plus, he's quite good at it, so why waste a lucrative talent? 

[breath-of-eternity]

LAST: Chapter 18

Amaia stopped to examine them when she spotted them, a trio of slashes gouged into the dirt, the deepest ends pointed towards the dirt mound she’d been hiding in. The monsters were hunting her.

She had bag half-full of mushrooms—she came across a trove of them eating a fallen tree and picked the ones not in the process of being devoured by insects. It wasn’t great, but she could not stay another night. She headed back to the mucky water to glob mud all over her body, then she was ready to go.

I can do this. I’m okay.

For a moment that was all too brief, she believed it.

The first day was mild, edging towards cool, another reminder that winter was a breath away. She spent the night in a cleft, wedged in between dirt and stone, balanced on a ledge, and by the middle of the night she was shivering in her skins.

She was still too far north, and much farther east than she usually was at this time of year. Right now she should have been carting supplies across the basin and checking out the ponds they passed for fish and fresh water. By the solstice, they reached the teal-blue ocean, another gathering, and they turned north to follow the coast.

Amaia scrubbed away the tear leaking from her eye. No ocean for her this year. She didn’t even have a raft. The coast didn’t have many places to hide anyway. She’d need to stay farther inland and hope no fires scorched the land of anything edible. She wiped her nose, the bitter ash choking her.

Twigs snapped. Amaia froze, every muscle tense. It was gone in a flash, to a burrow if it had any sense to it. Farther off, small paws clicked across tree bark. She let out a shaky breath. Squirrels, most likely. If the animals were back, then hopefully the food situation would improve.

All through the afternoon she searched for a place to sleep, and the best she found was a burrow just wide enough for her to wiggle through. She left her bag and spear outside and wedged herself into the hole backwards and on her stomach. Laughter burst out of her as she shoved herself deeper inside, imagining the ridiculous sight of a person trying to fit into a hole probably dug by a coyote. Hopefully a coyote who left long ago for more game-filled woods.

Nothing nipped at her legs and the den was musty, so she figured she was all right. She yanked her arms up and panic flooded her as she found them pinned to her sides, and the laughter dried up. Father yelled at her to stay calm and she whimpered an acknowledgement, clawing the dirt until she could finally move her arms. Her head throbbed and she wished she kept a water skin with her. As if she’d have enough space to drink it anyway.

She worked one arm ahead of her and the other next to her. She’d been walking almost nonstop the past two days. Sleep should’ve taken her quickly. But she lay prone, body crying for rest, unable to drop off.

When she was little and had trouble sleeping, Mother would tell her stories. Not about the past, about things that could never happen. She spoke of rabbits with horns winding form their foreheads, birds that laid eggs made of gold, beasts twice the size of humans that sped across the plains on long, spindly legs.

“If a rabbit had horns,” Amaia said, “other animals wouldn’t eat them so much.”

“That’s true,” Mother said, stroking her hair.

“Why don’t they have horns?”

“Only some lizards have horns,” Mother said. “Animals don’t. Although my mother used to tell me there used to be. She drew pictures of tall animals with long, branching horns.”

“The grandparents draw things like that. It doesn’t seem true. How do animals grow horns?”

“Perhaps it’s like we grow nails.”

“Hm, I guess…” Amaia said, her voice thick. Where was Mother? Why did she taste dirt?

They were walking, she and Dash, checking the snares Father laid and finding them all empty. The ground was empty of grass, the trees stripped bare. On the way back to the camp, dark dots in her vision began to spread and bleed into each other and Dash caught her right before her head slammed into the rocks. He eased her down, holding her until the world was clear again. Gray brown earth. Blackened bushes. The warmth of Dash’s arms around her.

“I’m okay,” she told him.

“We should get back.”

He helped her up, then paused with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. His eyes were sunken and she could count his ribs. Amaia herself wasn’t hungry anymore. The last meal she had was the marrow she sucked from a rabbit’s bones.

With the forest dead, the group was doubling back to the ocean, even if it meant they’d miss the next gathering, and possibly the one after that. But there was no food, and heading further north would only lead to plants and animals asleep for the winter. The ocean was their only chance for survival. If they could just survive getting there.

Several grandparents died over the past few weeks. And a few of Amaia’s friends would go to sleep and not wake up again. It didn’t seem like they were in pain, at least. Not like with the monsters.

Dash squeezed her hand. She stared up at his drawn face, and he tried a smile. The shouts of adults came to her and Dash nodded towards a rock just big enough to conceal them. She shook her head—eavesdropping was bad—but Dash hugged his legs and sat, listening to the argument.

“We should have turned back weeks ago,” Ianni said. “I told you. I told you.”

“You were right, are you happy?” The high, whining voice sounded almost like Prenne, but such a fearful tone coming from such a serious warrior seemed impossible.

“We won’t make it,” Ianni said. “It’s time to decide.”

“Please, we can’t, not again,” Father said. Was he… crying?

Then Dash seized her arm and dragged her away.

It had been too late for many people, Mother included. The details were hazy, but she’d been hunched over all the time, eating very little even when food was plenty. When they traveled, she often had to be carried on stretchers like the grandparents were. Laying flat often made her cry, and she had to spend her time half-curled in a ball, tears leaking out of her eyes.

“I’ll do it,” Mother said, and Amaia jerked, her head slamming into the earth above her and sending down a shower of dirt.

“Mother?” she called, because the voice had come from right next to her, her lips must have been pressed to Amaia’s ear. But there was only darkness, the suffocating smell of dirt.

A scream pulsed through her. She clawed at the earth, attacking it until it left her alone, but it was everywhere, she’d been buried and she wasn’t dead yet.

I’m in the hole, remember? Her mind attempted to calm her, but her limbs were acting on their own. She couldn’t be surprised. Her breathing came in sharp gasps, she’d been swallowed by the darkness.

She clawed herself forward until the night air hit her face and the invisible weight on her chest finally lifted. Her mind ordered her to flee, but some deeper part locked her feet in place. If she took off, she would get lost and run straight into the claws of a waiting monster.

It wasn’t full dark, the dawn turning the sky a dusty blue, still enough gloom for the monsters to be prowling. Likely they’d be returning to their lairs, but they would not hesitate to take down a meal they stumbled across.

As much as it made her heart threaten to explode, she crawled back in to the hole to pull out the skins. Even in the dim light, she could make out the holes in the skin, the ragged edges, and she had no twine to sew it with. She wrapped it around herself anyway, sitting by the hole barely breathing so nothing hear anything that might be approaching. There were no snarls, no howling, but they were out there. And it wouldn’t be long before they hunted her down.

She rocked herself back and forth until the sun rose enough to drive the monsters in for the day. Southwest again, finally coming to the end of the hills and to the plains beyond. The soil was thin and dry, the few sprouts of grass gray-brown and tasteless. By midday, the clumps grew closer together, but she had to step carefully around prickly plants lest the needles stab through her foot.

The land was flat, nowhere to hide for her or the monsters. It was stupid to spend the night out in the open, but there was too much nothing. She crawled between the needled arms of the plants, pulling the skins over her head. The next day, she filled up her water skins at a river of smooth, placid water. She waded in up to her waist and found it wasn’t to in danger of being overtaken by a deceptive current. She swam to the other side and kept going, dripping a trail of water after her that soon evaporate in the dry air.

On the flat, even horizon, a smudge of gray appeared. She headed towards it and soon it was many smudges, a cluster of rocks pushing up from the earth. It was early afternoon, but her bag was empty, and she needed the light to dig up grubs by. That night, she slipped in between and slept, the wind howling. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Was it just the cries of the planet, or were the monsters trying to track down her scent?

“I’m so tired,” she said. Her stomach growled, making her jump before she reminded herself the sound was internal. “Is that all that’s left for me? Survival?”

“It’s always been all that’s left,” Father said. Said. Amaia jumped up shrieking, grabbing for her spear, but it wasn’t there, nothing was there, nothing was real. Her heartbeat had lodged between hear ears, and now she couldn’t hear anything at all. Was she dead?

“Don’t give up,” Mother said, limping out of the dark.

“A dream,” Amaia said. The rocks were cold under her feet, the wind kissing her skin. “An awake dream.”

“I’m so sorry this is the world you were born into,” Father said. He materialized next to Mother, slipping an arm around her waist to support her. Her body relaxed, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“You’re not real,” Amaia said.

“No, I suppose not. But we love you, so you must have known that.”

Amaia blinked. The apparitions were bright, the only things not cloaked in night. She wanted to embrace them, but she feared it would break the illusion.

“I guess I did know that,” she said. “I’m sorry it’s not enough. I can’t do this all alone. If I had a choice to drop dead right now, fast and painless, I would take it. I only run from the monsters because I’m afraid of the pain, I live because I’m afraid of death.”

“Whatever it takes,” Mother said. “No reason is small or petty if it keeps you alive.”

Amaia dropped to her knees, pain juddering up her legs. “No more, please. I just want to rest.”

“Not yet,” Father said. “Not until you’re safe. No more sleeping out in the open.”

“I’ll sleep where the fuck I want!” she shrieked. “I can’t find a cave by a river every fucking time I want to rest!”

“I’m only telling you what you need to hear. Someone has to be out there, and you should do what you can to find them.”

“What if they’re not? What if I’m the last one?”

There was no one there. Amaia was yelling at shadows. Her parents were gone, everyone she ever loved was gone.

She pulled the skins off the rock and sat back down to sleep.