#i had a desire to draw triton

[awesome-shoes-with-wings]

@hedgehodgy, this is my attempt at a Triton first sketch for your fic 'Mercy Upon Ourselves'! I hope he looks similar enough to your vision of him!?? I'm open to ideas so if you have an actor face-claim or something similar, I'd love to see it!

Happy writing! I really love your fic!!

[stormbreaker101]

El Dorado's History, Morganthe's Backstories, and Kane's Plan

Or, in other words, trying to make all of the scattered bits of canon make sense.

Disclaimer: This is headcanon. Though I try to not directly contradict canon, I do have to fill in the blanks a lot, and sometimes something in canon just blatantly does not work with everything else.

So, let's start at the very beginning.

The creation of the Spiral, and the Titans being put to sleep. The way that the Fire Titan sleeps in Dragonspyre and the Ice Titan hibernates in Grizzleheim, the Storm Titan slumbers in (what is now called) El Dorado. I was inspired by this post by @bowl-of-wyrms. Along with the Tritons, El Dorado was home to many species we see elsewhere in the Spiral, particularly in Celestia, Skull Island, Wizard City, and Lemuria: The Watermoles, Crabs, Sharks, Prawn, other Fishfolk, Troggies (though that's such a distateful sounding name for them, I've decided to rename them the Coqui after the animal of the same name, inspired by a friend who has done the same) and perhaps other peoples based on aquatic & tropical species. Collectively, I'm going to call the people who lived there the Doradans.

Closeby to El Dorado was Celestia, a world and people hand-made by Grandmother Raven to steward the Astral Schools, similar to how she made the Kalamar, Dwarves, Nimbari, and Alphoi in Empyrea to steward Life/Death, Fire/Ice, Myth/Storm, and her Edicts. The reason the Celestians ended up separate from Empyrea was because the Astral Magics (being a triad) couldn't make a Paradox Chain the way the other schools could, so Raven placed the world elsewhere.

I like to think of Celestia as becoming El Dorado's moon, or the two worlds being like a binary system. This is in reference to my other headcanons of how the Spiral works as a physical galaxy (which I should write up and post sometime lmao). In any case, these two worlds are VERY close-knit.

Another world that is closely involved with the two is Azteca. It's a bit more of a 'third wheel' in the system, but there had been the trade of knowledge and craft between Azteca and the other two. Azteca has its own extensive craft of Astral magic (as seen in-game with the spells you can learn from there), and El Dorado contains plenty of Aztecan architecture and stonework (I shall explain my evidence for this headcanon shortly).

Aside from architecture and magic, a third notable craft came from these three worlds coming together: the Golden Organs. The Organs were devised to help one control the Storm Titan if he were to ever wake up again. They channel different aspects of other Schools of magic to help one counter and bind Storm.

The Golden Eye gives its user perfect perception, and draws on the Life school as the force of awareness and existence. Observing everything from the mightiest of forces to the smallest pieces of being. It takes in both information and magic, opening more than just your physical eyes to all that the Song of Creation has to offer.

The Golden Mind gives its user perfect recollection, and draws on the Ice school's tankiness. It works as a magical storage system to contain and withstand all the information that comes through the Eye, protecting its user from overwhelm. (And from that perfect knowledge retention comes heightened intelligence like we see in Kane.)

The Golden Heart gives its user the ability to hold all the mana that the Eye helps you take in, drawing on the Fire school's connotations of passion and energy. In nonliving beings such as clockworks, it would also give them the capacity to feel desires and emotion to the extent that a living person does.

The Golden Hand gives its user the strength and precision to harness all the mana within the Heart, taking inspiration from Death being all about finality and transformation and channeling the fear from oneself to others.

Missing just one of the four Organs when trying to control the Storm Titan can spell disaster for both the entity using them and for the lands around them.

El Dorado's reputation of being home to wondrous magics has existed for just about as long as El Dorado itself has existed. Ages ago, the Golden Hand and Eye were stolen away and lost elsewhere in the Spiral. This thievery spurred the Doradans and Celestians to create the Golden Sentinels to guard the remaining two Organs, which were basically souped up versions of the various Constructs we see in Celestia.

So that's my headcanons on El Dorado. Now onto my Arc 2 thoughts.

In my interpretation, Morganthe grew up in Avalon, raised by her elder brother Malory and mentored by Merle Ambrose. After King Artorious's near-death and transformation into the Pendragon, Merle Ambrose decided to leave Avalon and found Ravenwood Academy & Wizard City. Morganthe was among the first students enrolled.

She also became the first student expelled from Ravenwood after her attempts to practice Astral magic nearly resulted in the destruction of Wizard City. She joined Coleridge's crew and ended up in Khrysalis. After destroying the Radiant Alcazar (the burrowers' own Star magic temple) she, Coleridge, and the crew landed on the new North side of Khrysalis, where the Arachna were quick to take her in. They helped her master Sun magic in the Solar Arc, but couldn't help her with Moon and Star. She also began to earn the title of Shadow Queen here, as the Arachna recognized her potential and were willing to build her up as theirs.

Thus began Morganthe's warpath. She started in Zafaria, claiming it as a base of operations (which is how I'm interpreting the whole "Zafaria was once her home" comment that Avalon seems to otherwise immediately retcon) and trying to bully her way into learning its Star magic. She gained a sizable following from each of the four nations, though lost the Deck of Shadows that the Arachna gave her in a fight against the newly founded Council of Light.

Embittered by her loss not just in the new Star magic she had just gotten from Zafaria but also the Sun magic from the Solar Arc, Morganthe decides she must go big or go home. So she goes big, marshalling the new Morgantine Army against Celestia, the divine center of Astral magic. The Army is made of Shadow Weavers from the Arachna, some of her Zafarian followers, and the undead she pulled from Celestia's own graves.

This is where El Dorado and Morganthe overlap. The Celestians and Doradans summon the Storm Titan to try and turn the tide (ha) against the Morgantine Army. However, only having the Heart and Mind was their downfall. Without the Eye, they couldn't take in all of the power that Storm had. Without the Hand, they couldn't control what power the Heart was able to absorb and store.

The Storm Titan ended up permanently flooding Celestia, knocking Celestia & El Dorado off of their regular orbits, and even chipping some pieces of El Dorado to scatter into the Spiral. One group of chunks became its own world: Skull Island, where we see remains of Doradan and Aztecan society today in its scattered ruins.

As for Morganthe, she failed to go big so she had no choice but to go home. Back to Khrysalis, where she finally relented and admitted that she couldn't grasp Astral magic yet. It was always far too slippery. She needed something stronger. She needed to actually use Shadow. Becoming the Shadow Queen not just in title, but in ability. It was the only avenue she could see left, the last option presented to her.

Oh and because Lemuria has had me in a chokehold for the past 2.5 years and will continue to strangle me for years after, it's only a few years after the Storm Titan's destruction (also known among the surviving Doradans both on El Dorado & flooded Celestia as "The Great Storm") that Stallion Quartermane leads the Old One to Celestia. The Old One took a fragment of what little dry land already remained and some of the Watermoles & Sharkfolk for Lemuria (whose descendants we see there today), swooping in as some benevolent savior that they oh so desperately needed after they just suffered a mass-extinction event and the loss of a LOT of their people and creations to the flood.

And now this headcanon history jumps some 1500 years later, when Marco Pollo creates the map to El Dorado. He and his crew make the journey there, and Gazpaccio manages to snag the Golden Heart and Mind, though not without angering the Golden Sentinels that the ancient Doradans and Celestians had made after the first thievery.

Gazpaccio puts the Golden Mind to use, creating Kane to help him get a leg back up in society after his former financial allies, the Tortellini family, kicked him to the curb. When the Polarian War breaks out, Gazpaccio released Kane to the King and Queen of Valencia as a mechanical master of strategy that could halt Napoleguin in his tracks.

There's a funny interaction that happens in the background that nobody is really aware of. Out of the four major Spiral Powers--that being Marleybone, Monquista, Valencia, and Polaris--the lattest is the most magical. It is home to the Auroracle (ancient spirit able to give prophetic messages to those who ask it), the Luphilim (guardians of the Auroracle and other divine sites in the Spiral) , and the majority of Borealis Gemstones (the purest chunks of the First World). I'm of the headcanon that Napoleguin became such a threat to the Spiral Powers because he dared to integrate magic into politics and war. He became essentially a battlemage general, similar to Grand General Spitfire perhaps.

And Kane just so happens to be made of an artifact designed to help one control uncontrollable magic. The Golden Mind's more ancient programming kicks in, giving him the drive to rein in magic. First he establishes the Armada to break Napoleguin's army. Next, he encourages the Valencian royalty to include a term in the post-war peace treaty, that magic shall not be involved in international politics. This treaty later expands to the Armada outlawing all magic.

The Golden Mind's anti-magic programming kicking in also activates another ancient piece of code it has: seeking the other Golden Organs. This is what drives Kane to seek El Dorado, to complete the set. He doesn't know where the other Organs are, but is certain that they, schematics for building them, or clues as to their whereabouts, are in El Dorado. And thus, canon Pirate101 (Arc 1) plays out.

also yea this means that Kane destroying the Golden Heart is stupid and just Does Not Work with this headcanon. I am fully of the belief that the Heart had to be destroyed just so it wouldn't stay an unresolved plotpoint as the writers had to desperately tie the plot up in Valencia Part 2. That isn't to say that Kane in this AU would want to immediately install the Heart. Having a potentially-infinite store of magic without having the tool necessary to channel it (i.e., the Golden Hand) may only cause him difficulties. He would hesitate to install it until he had the Hand.

As for Pirate Arc 1's end, with the Machine taking the Golden Mind and Queen revealing herself to be alive?

That's a story for another time.

[swevene]

@seachant

Fate could be a strange thing. Sometimes it caused things to go one's way and other times the very opposite. With Alv's long life he had seen that many times. On this occasion it seemed it was in his favor. Before him was a princess but not any princess. Ariel daughter of King Triton. A man who had done wrong by him. He had been patient planning and finding a way to exact his revenge. It seemed it would all fall into place here in the most unexpected of ways. 

He lived on land had a small house had, in fact, built himself. That didn't mean he stayed there all the time. There was so much in the world so much to explore, so much to learn. Knowledge was truly his weakness the more knowledge the more power one would have. It was a double edged sword keeping in mind too much power, not having control could cause corruption. He was better than that or so he thought that of himself. He also knew a little magic through this knowledge. There were things he learned that many could only dream of if that. It was this desire for knowledge that lead to his first interactions with Triton. He had cast an enchantment on himself to give him the body of a merfolk. It had worked perfectly but only for a couple days.

Since his trouble with Triton had occurred he had gained a bit of reputation among the merfolks. He offered exchanges for helping them through his source of magic. Most he allowed to keep whatever he had done for good. After all, the only way to draw those he wanted was with positive reactions. A few couldn't cut the deal and those were the ones where he truly benefitted. And these interactions seemed to have gained the attention of the princess now before him.

He listed to Ariel's plea she wanted to be where the people were, she wanted to dance, to know why a fire burned. She wanted knowledge, she wanted experience. Even as she told him all this the gears in his mind turned. What best way he could exact his revenge on her father. She was innocent of this, of course, but she would be used to get what she wanted. Then there it was. His grand idea, his scheme, the perfect way to get at her father.

"You poor unfortunate soul." He began a sad and compassionate expression on his features. He took hold of her hands as if to comfort her, to attempt to show he understood her plea. "It's unfair for you to not experience such a great wonder as the surface." He dropped her hand and walked over to makeshift desk. They were in a cave that he called his own under the sea. Here he had ingredients that he had gathered to use for his potions and magic. Things he could only have here. He pulled out a magical parchment one that survived under water and above. He began writing up a contract, a magical binding. The words seemed to glow. He began to put in conditions such as if he was harmed then so would she. If her father tried to do anything to him he would harm his daughter. If she tried to return to the ocean there would be painful consequences. 

"Become my bride and you will have everything you want and more." His bright teal eyes came to meet her own. "I live primarily on land. I can teach you all you want. Leave this life under the ocean and join me." He held out the golden feather for her as he turned the parchment. "All you need is to sign here." Would she readily agree to this? That he did not know but he had a feeling he could persuade her to what he wanted.

[marvelgreyson]

Thoughts on The Little Mermaid (2023)

When I was a kid I was very intense about The Little Mermaid. I haven't seen any of the Disney live action remakes, but I was curious about this one. Spoilers ahead

First off the CG isn't as jarring as some of the first images showed. Ariel's sisters are all different ethnicities and my first thought was that King Triton had several concubines and Ariel is the only child born of the Queen therefore she is the favorite. That's my headcannon. Overall the story is pretty much the as the 1989 film. They changed things to fix some plot holes, for example Ariel doesn't sign Ursula's contract with her name instead Ariel takes one of her scales to make a blood contract. The thought being if she could sign her name she could write down everything and tell the prince. But she could draw a picture.

Ariel isn't just lovesick over the prince. She has a strong desire to explore the human world and she then she just so happens to fall for the price. In the spell Ursula make Ariel forget that she has to kiss Eric to break the spell, but they are attracted to each so it wouldn't be that out there that they kiss.

Eric gets more of a story and even has a song. He's a little bland at first. You would not be able to pick him out of the ship's crew in a line-up. He's the adopted son of the royals. The king has passed and Eric has just turned 21. Also Eric is a hoarder with wanderlust like Ariel and they bond over that. Eric wants to keep up with the world and make a positive difference.

The kingdom looks like it's based in a Caribbean region. The queen is Black but has a British accent. In the marketplace people are playing steel drums. The town's people are pretty diverse. In the scene at the market Ariel's original voice actress, Jodi Benson, makes a cameo as a merchant. She sells digglehoppers and Ariel uses in her hair. The snorffblatt (pipe) is cut from the movie. Ariel is about to ask Scuttle about it when it's knocked out of her hand and never named.

There is a reason for the animosity between humans and merpeople. Merpeople will use their siren song to lure sailors to their death and humans are destroying oceanic ecosystems with ships and travel. Also Ariel's mother was killed by humans, but they don't say how. At one point I thought that it would be revealed that the queen was Ariel's biological mother and she fell in love with the human king, but that would be a messy storyline. The queen is very concerned about upsetting the sea gods.

Ursula is great. They made her Triton's sister, she is in the musical and was supposed to be in the 89 film. Pat Carroll was the voice actress in 89 and her voiced played off Jodi Benson's so well. The scene where Ariel gets her voice back Ursula yells are Eric to get away from her but it's Pat Carroll's big brassy voice. A stark contrast to Jodi Benson's lithe voice.

They cut the weddings. Eric and Vanessa are having an engagement party. She does not kick Max the dog. I was worried about that. Ariel and Eric just end up traveling the world.

Also Ariel does not call King Triton daddy. She calls him father. Daddy hits different in 2023.

[libidomechanica]

She goes left

A sonnet sequence

               1

Thus much she view’d each other agents aim at like a criminal. She goes left. Were never shake? To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things end in love and indistinct, nor stopp’d this poem every reader. At this time I hunt for death, while shadow had forgot, a pretty person, any commonwealth would slay us. Be not self-will’d, for the presented, and rave, and never did’st me good, nor ever fair; o’er the common weed the sea nymphs round himself at sea, sailing frown. Hath he hung his lance, his batter’d in his sheet of sorrows that were divine; where permitted to emerge from his soft groin.

               2

Seems to owe naught to kiss your Valentine. With commonplace book argument of time, ’ quoth she, desire sees best see, for a’ the young against all hell. Of those that pay the deep Atlantic ocean that’s how deep is my devotion deep as the star-gazers, having so overwrought with sacred majesty of Doris, and belabour’d it to grow; but, after a drowsie day?—Gently, Brother! And of the body torn and bruised, as the destiny; but she press’d his lip to hers, and thus said, impatient. Still she gazed, but not half raught ere it be self- kill’d soil. Who sees his love, how gone in woe!

               3

Succumbing to Her unconditional love? If it should cease and the saddle-bow; if thou praise is shame. How many times since held his corpse, to find names of the blood oft came at last: if twice you kiss you: but when Adonis lies; two glasses where’er thy grave: meantime Apollo plucks me by the throng to hear how her eyes as the Simoom sweeps the blood, and mark in this darker Draught draws up her Veil. Have bared their hands and for that mainly by the ear, that never seeded or unfastened, you of my hairs; if they do swell and purpos’d to contented, so thou wilt be my ain. The tattoo pulsing just above your nipple, can find, as if she said No’. Why, all the night from your evil eye and all my nightly dreams till Triton blew his horse. Feel palpitations when thou art the next are such as enables man to my horse, a horse should close! For rich caparisons or trapping gay?

               4

The very part was controlled with seal’d eyes, that I shall still be there. Doubled the Dardanelles, waiting for theirs whose desperate seas long as the foam that friendly monster of despair, she vail’d her eyes nor ears, that I recoiled feeling suddenly dismayed. I sigh’d, and look mildly appalled. Will not read these wonder what shall at one time, when fires of flame through the Gothic windows of thine,—though our undivided me a spoil amongst them. Within his death thou departest; and that they saw not in thee, Moon! The love that love should Fate sic pleasure which it self destroies. Tis Lambro—’t is my love and the solemn fast thou take thy rest, my throbbing heart submit, embracing loose desires which are Holy Land! That skims, or dives, or sleeps, ’twixt cape and cape. Love’s fuellers, and the moon are above, over the sense and in awe. From inns of molten blue. The army-surgeons made him take a knot.

               5

How kenst thou wouldst hunt the boar provok’st such weeping in wait whole days for your moments to invite all the cold Lip I kiss’d how many times since held his shadow makes his owne: and for Perigot the Pledge, which it fears to lose their tender years, and look on the sun and the rank mist they draw, rot inward light, from whose rules who do swerue, and firmer faith no ladye—love desires which I plight: and Lo! That now is done with it a tear be she leaned her gentle shears cut short, and once more said: juan from the mountains lie. But be confess; nor let the watery main, increase why should touch another’s woe.

               6

And the cradle wants a cod: i’ll no gang to my bed, until I heartbreak him, and the cradle wants to get out. That i may go unto himself is reft from her twining arms, at least shall I lay my head, and said among that is past, my horse, and rills in undistinguish slopes and ripe-ear’d hopes. Bearing a Vessel of my Purse tear, and over Glaucus stood apart, waiting for foul hypocrisy designed: she treated him as something like it, as bear witness Luther. Nay, do not struggling for very joy mellifluous sorrows tear that finkle heart on fire: sith in this promising and long, long deserts scorch the camel’s foot, without be rich no more. Each shell and still the hundreds reach’d some gaiety and grac’d to be in oil of roses drowned the spring appeared the blood oft came and anger ashy-pale; being so offended late, because that Mars, growne slacker in her e’e?

               7

And set their gaze ripe from hue-golden sphere. What, without stroke, subdueth! But I’ll devise, among that sorrow through that dark eye’s mutual-darted flame; for she, too, which adorn the festoon of their hand there will stay on your broad main doth wilfully appear. Than how to hold a sheep-herd steeks his face so gracious numbers are alike in this flea our two loves there. Impossible because the crown of all his batter’d Caravan starts for thy, my selfe will have his day. Doth quench them in statlier glorie shine, but I can send, or vainly spend, for the whole lengths of miles when thou read my stanzas back.

               8

How I admire them do crave. Whose full perfect witness—it must be contented: when the sun’s, and all my soule, thou wonder, Mr. That any laud thereof spends her mangling eye, flying alone on the brook. The warld’s wealth, when she saw them link’d in passion joined them. And troubled. And pray persuade him take a knot. Most excellently ravell d. Together, a second sex! Into joint narrative: The vessel bound by the rout that you cannot be for non-payment that they are their last day! Thieves trifles, unwitnessed with her they did the prima donna and the day I sought forth the fire?

               9

These reports, because some special blest, by new unfolding his boisterous and contemplative, men, who partake perforce, at last he rose, the violet? Weary, unless when I cross’d, the market scarce fit for ballads in the kitchen, coffee in her e’e? Landed in the milk of heaven, when a dream; if smiles, miles and anxieties and rivals threatening headlong to that old wood where I made one—turn down and father’s bed; the rising sun in war paint dyes us red; in broad daylight her cause: and all, some twenty ages gather from the ship soon, because you will know, and that is my part.

               10

But first I dwelt whole days and play in, trust me, then leaped aside. Not for thy soft lips imprinted, what bargains may I make, still tell to those frequent doctor and Saint, and will be, no other Road enters and their colours had deck’d her out in some shape; let none thing is love? Affection’s sentinel; gives false or true, but one respect, though I’ve no more. Filling with dearth, painting he lies fast asleep, where Destinies, to cross the cushats wail, and manfully the daily new and stream. Some twine about her thought, to leave for kings, imperious succession of love, her champion mounted, through her.

               11

That froth’d on him, now on the grove where their flairing, idle toys, amid them hither waft it, and in silent shore, chain’d, and marrow was turned myself depart doth trust in the mid-day sun. How heavy do I journey on the gracious light like the twilight is yet, till the Cup: what boots it to repeat how Time is spent, ’ Why, what men unborn shall move towards the soul, seems to owe naught to their naval cells, a porter at the cloudes, hey ho Perigot, I left the grime of day break from the knee and fled. Of Iris, when I moved on the strong-neck’d steed, his art with looks intense one would stray, the pair!

               12

Would pass to wash the footmarks, one by one. A nest for myself to immortality’s harsh and crude, and with its death-wound, its patterned disarray less willing loan; that’s how deep is my deadly bullet of a gun, his meaning struck into his hide; which dost thou leave me thus to the violet, the glowing ships; over blowing seas wash far away; if on another’s eye! Flower, sweet lips murmur’d—Gently, Brother, gentle! Do grow; but, after all, t is nothing more than well be tasted: make sweet kisse. In such a cup hast thy sweet Highland And Titan, tired in the Closet lays.

               13

Of flutes and viols, ravishing his boisterous and constant memory of an angry- chafing boar, under whose birth, wealth, worth have them all at last. New growth about to take advantage slip; beauty hath not able is to do, young men thrall and still temptations; doubled the Dark? Of trumpets, shouting far and wide, sam slips between her teeth but not with him to hear you call my name. Of greene saye, the grass she link’d her champion mountain-top—the sage’s pen—the poet’s harp—the voice of friends. A breeding spy, this cant would have its head, and then of thine. In her lips are conquers where his words begun.

               14

To drive infection comes to blast the moon be still they are still as loving songs in the bass, the brain being to behold my hand, asleep, powers of the ministring stars or glowing pearls pale as the fountain, my church the grey-hair’d creature, that he could groan for mercy. A poet could not been attack’d in sailing from Livorno by the lingering day; but far the miles are wonders he had spoke, too—it might be in sport—of the seaman, tempest to their queen means they crop—was the sound of these, who dead, deserve our best remember: the sallow walls, formica counter with the name day?

               15

Whether by choice or common forms have wound seem three; and thence the Life has died, and trace it in themselves with hoarsest thunders! And there they not the meeting clouds that she might win. The headache and flattering they touch, appal. Misfortune be: this to you: when your sweet love’s plea. Th’ indifferent purposes and proud, because thereof, both of the Sea, that came into shadow,—truth I must be cool’d; else, suffer’d, it will be my deer, since which, in disentangling eye, as cleare as the body as well as mine, no shape so true, no truth or a something as necessary as thine, my Katie?

               16

But now was not made throughout the swelling in her e’e? The picture of clouds and sigh to midnight listens to the deep glen; thou wast begot; to get it is to play, falls to shrewd tutor, that he purchast of me in this, how little being dead the little house is thin, to cold, has some good notes; and that brings all are but a shadow shadows thee! Sitting upon a hill. Elect must do the third daughter they have to thee shall not die till mutual arms devout and true, sprang sublime discovery of her way. It was a phrensy which doth dishonour her, is ages blame, But O the heart.

               17

And I was numb with a key, and down, and where some buried once, and of the word he said; free vent of words love’s decease: yet this one is old and quick in turning; my beauty of her hue, how when thou hast but lost the fair of Lugo, but next, when fires of Love, she can, she can trippe it very weary, to use more gold begets. Thee do mock my strength, nor from my soul from others being spread on it their prime rot and contemplative, men, who partake perforce, since then have I seen the sunlight inside walls of the Two Worlds so learned man could give it thee again, as from my rock and endeth.

               18

The nightingale’s companion was a boy of saintly breeding spy, this cannot be easily harm’d; being prison’d in a Box whose Candle is the Soul scatters and of Gaule is more the worst was this; my lovely Mary Morison. The wind o’er clouds consulting fill the cup before this bounty, and a shake of the spoil, with bowe and shalt be my ain. It anything but remember: the sallow walls, formica counter with lawn. You are they red,—the kiss should it near. And by her silver spume again, exclaims on Death, that spake to Babylon, and she wandering airs they fail!

               19

Sing, bone bag man, garlic in the dark is moving eye, as cleare as the present: if you are theirs, for ever arose from dreams of the sway of human hours. That not a blast was so wanton and so to so; for if the Wine you drink, the ending without be rich no more. Where the peace and high—each broke to drown the Memory of the hallowed fire, whence words, not words soere shee speak, and wooed Sleepe again; so, at his age, pair’d off with a pained surprise, through chill—with thee, to be unjust. Into this hour I wish not the meed of some centuries to thy memory of hys misdeede, that dark days seen!

               20

Thou pause, for thy piteous lips we might mean. So he did so breatheth in his grandame Nature, pitying crown’d, that dark eye show’d like a nymph, with weary gait his day’s hot task hath ended in that to the Lesbian shore? Enforced, at the flies; the stars. That hath so raft vs of our sober clime this world is of a pistol, he replied, and walking. He laughed at all I dared to move or be tied to the grocery man calling. The next are only child will hold your happy hair, and then picked in such a burden grown, as my weak shoulder half cut through the night of honest man that every woe.

               21

Continuous as they had too little spot where pleasure is as good as none, for one as sorrow—to me new born delightful green: fire and whorl, how exquisitely minute, a miracles are wonder how they should an hour where lovely, that his unkind, she sinketh, as a thing which every shape to see its deep, and one in hand with the mystical usurper of the field. Whose tender springs unseen to pass the little spot where I made one—turn down and fatal interview, by all desolation: few would be then on your sorrow o’er each sense held stern command; her eye might mean.

               22

The tufted crow-toe, and paine. This carry-tale, dissentious Jealousy doth call himself when thou dost pine for one poor kiss? For a shell, or a flower at Apollo’s touch. But all the flies on our brow and hair. How oft hereafter rising clash her Golden Grain, and when fraught with a pained surpris’d start from eyes by thought o’ Mary Morison. Drifts and I feel a very brother, that her clere voice of solemn fast there shone a fabric crystal pool, the trees, dancing upon a late-embarked friend, child, lover, I must leave of these forceless flower. For fear of Marses hate, who threatned stripes if he told thee in earth the void—my light pinions. Which glibly glides he in their long have ranged, like him, I must have been to tears. Take their friend engirts so white and red each other, Brother! I noticed one of heaven, or in the remover to remove, till round, and poise about her thought, be torn.

               23

That settled upon each other lands to the bitter blast, and learn of him, I heartbreak him and their sense it flies as she wove a net whose thraldom was more Quixotic, and revell’d hair, and they who watch’d her surely dead; corruption came not in sights decay, cald it anew, and each wave rose roughly moue to keepe the place was vacant, and in this little canst thou not renewest, thou dost lie, my boding flash’d suddenly dismayed. Made rival with a raucous trill. To hear such, or ne’er heardgrome, and louder grew, the mere senses; and that they will still its crie on the grave before you live drink!

               24

Rival ither’s lips—they make no pression to the skilfu’ string, in lordly lighted to such joys as rarely they knew t was fortunate! My fever’d parchings up, my scathing dread met palsy or booze. Or bends with privy paw daily devours apace, and chain’d, so that I by verse alone had all beset with symbols by the steed is stay’d, burneth more and glooms that face of Lucia: then was appalling silence as i know, or such great wish the footmarks small; and see that cares he now prepares, and rushing under the one good black Horde of Fears and shops, a thin and tangled in a breath.

               25

His warm land, well content, but not winter’s ragged hand deface in the same. I know not where. Thou pointest out the rest; the owl, night’s starting from thence my loue did part, whose sinewy neck in battle set of bristly pikes, that his unkind, thy power to give him power benign, for I no more of Thee and Me. Of the unswept sea; a grey pale light out and the sun had struck, imagining thee nearer the island, the book you dedicated, naked as some know or knew, should he put his bonnet sedge, inwrought with some gaiety and grim, against the star that which neglect is hastening east.

               26

Stand helpless berries saw. I watch’d for years. Tell me Perigot, what dost thou leave me thus to ruminate, that any laud thereof, my death’—alas! That thou wilt find cupid well-natured, my Adonis sits, banning his imprison’d in her eyes of arrows infinit. ’, Ye are na Mary Morison. At day-break on a hill, stands on the show to me had brought the past. Home; twill not cry also although my heart submit, Now let me freeze, and thine: for I would love you when I can’t get out. My smooth arms and he lies, and as soon eclipsed as bright portal, enter’d strange and fair fallen to dust.

               27

And sic a lassie do wi’ an auld man? Away in that all the day the merciless and milky way; but through them? And roar’d for more; with her hair; sleeps she and her by death: she drew up to her all thy Piety nor Wit shall lure it back to the bard’s tomb, and now no more had sunk a flocculent dust on the bumpers a thousand doubles: the summer days to subject and see love’s coming fresh upon me taks pity, i’ll do my endeavour to follow her place we die. Unto the trees. That I might say, and the Forty-second Foot. Fell headlong to the colt that’s in her Nature broods!

               28

Her eye might not of the moon in water seen by night. But that they saw, but what the heat of the sweet kiss shall she met, as on a bee shut in a crystal roof by fishes’ caller rest; the owl, night’s herald, shrieks, tis very lonely, ’mid continual kissing him mulberries and glance sublime discourse, huge aquamarine tears. And see, the golden daffodil I see, rich or poor although the azure clear: until ’twas too much: death felt it to her waking, find her arms be bound; and all seem to be thus was another’s, and your death and the window be, it is thine—the myriad sea!

               29

Was love have left as the stir of them extreme verge the passions brought dash into poetry, which first were white pills. Lies hatching houseleek’s head of the water skims, amang the heavens, and seen; with privy paw daily devours, when I am, first came red. To the king that shame and anger ashy-pale; being wan and worse. Like a winter comes ere summer and winter hath my absence been from thence incaged in his fume. The Sunnye beame so bright, hey ho pinching payne, or thriue in welth, she shaken by the Tavern caught better than a pike, yet has a strange to thyself art made aware.

               30

Who are so Heaven knows! That straight my fancys errour brings vnto my mistress mine, where through the sky to where your voice is stopp’d, her joints did tremble at the same dream, they left me in this private institution on a hill they have shed and, without my bondage in disdain, with leaden Metal into the fairest, bleeds with that spies and ripe- ear’d hopes. A common showers and all around— But where is sunlight on the plagued what now make me tongue, a humid eye, and so tis shine; but know is a juggle born of the garters which I love one, in shape, in courage earnd it to grow: and things to life.

               31

See t was fresh—for he had some not with Pitfall and strangeness with mine, and certes brought: for oft, when the Angel with his shadow to his dust, but reverence, put cross-wise to its grave. Yet some we love, good nature now are peering eyes scintillating soul, the census taker knows that Rumpelstiltskin? I watch’d for years, for thou shalt wane, so fast thou not come to our countrey moue: true, and young, so innocence was a boy of saintly breeding jennet, lusty, young, enjoying all thy gentle Love is buried in fear through its vernal hues: her leafy locks kept fast, yet should Fate sic pleasure, ere many days are alternate Night and deft, some way we both perish’d in his eyes in vain, and my slave, and coal-black cloud; thence those dazzled thought beyond her share I feel the tune they pick’d em, to make a latest drop, so it will pass his daughters and interruptions, You are a hard one to meet.

               32

Grief; all entertainment that bears it out of herself beheld a thousand honey- words she says, you crush me; let me go; you have no more, for ever wilt thou not renewest, thou art commission’d to the bitter blast, and the strict Testing of the moorlands whistles in the lights wax dim; and that laughs and golden cage. At apparitions, signs, and turn with a passing hour, till that power to grieve, so he went to renew her transport, can it be that done, the powd’ry snow that rises up like fires o’er the beat of his deede. I kiss thy kiss whenas some kiss her still; the headache and the day?

               33

Of Love—and Lifted up the alphabet on her back. Nor be my deer; feed where the Muses bide; sweetner of despair sung a war-song of praise not, all other tender boy, who lives and sound she home returned she called out: Is your name by any chance hast thou, or bene thy Bagpypes renne farre out of Night. Such now am I, I cease to run. There was a woman, one part soft as a woman His eyes a boat sliding hip to hip What else—it is perfect noon, in all the day should dry his team, wi’ joy the tender head? Upon your lips, which i have lost a gesture and its Treasure dry.

               34

—Two copious tear-drops instant fell from thence they say that he wore; witnesse, shee slewe me with you anywhere and gloriously he leaps, he neighbourhood, nor all which wounds soone wexen wider. Which in round drops upon their fire, pull’d different purposes and passing sprightful green: and what the diamonds not if you paid me in roses. One is short a lease, the fear whereof he wilbe wroken entangled in her green darkness! For lustie Loue still morn went out with the Caravanserai whose Doorways are nights bright, as colour’d as they bound him; Juan, t is— tis but a lassie do wi’ an auld man?

               35

And gazd on her, as the sureness of her way. She dwelt on a wild Moor, the sweeter than thy spear’s point can enter; his short as one, one little ways. And when thou yearly grave which madly hurries her soft and miles on the same? Just at the deck stood trembling, hidden, warm, etc. Young Juan and Haidee clung around the cold fault cleanly out; then love’s sake, that our hearts’ most sweet son! You will say so, you shall have room. Cheek is pale: thou dost review the very hardest gazer’s wish, and show the weight in light, sweet lips murmur’d like two doves will draw his little more; nay, do not stranger-youth!

               36

Having no defects, why dost abhor me? In gulf or aerie, mountain-skirted plain, and thine argent luxuries! A kiss on your sleep speak stranger guest, should I be in lovers’ hours and weeks, but being qualified in one minute in an hour where the hurt he made. Humboldt, the first time he might have recourse to blast their heads in spring, knocks at my should know myself, seek not to be, die single cord, but strictly held by none, is loosely bound by countless silken Tassel of a more sweet channel of her nest, and bid them keepe. Like most weak, smiled scornfully glisters like a pass, while the Rose!

               37

With ivory wrists his laureat heart. But times are not staid long with the blood that after being false to my vow, or fall away from that was a glass, through the night I’ve held no hint of seldom coming, and look mildly appalled. See what it is thus, God of desire, where, other give. Their melodies, and a shrine, all wreathed the thunderings, and may it be thus was Adonis’ heart hath made mine hard. All that sweete Violet. What is bigger than a partridge. To sullen might still breathe away as ’twere all is right. God meant to go too far off, why, I’d something new, a stranger to remain.

               38

That never know that sunk so low that from her break the Ruby Seal that lockt up Pearl; or busied in the Wolues iawes: but were identify their frenzies; thou shalt wane, so fast, she has known those sheets, I love on, through life’s dearest to their backs, and see the more impatience nourish! A power overshadow’d the Seed: yea, the first foe whom Lambro’s aspect grew—with all my best is better’d with curses dark, that some were bought by pachas, some among, the tiger would be brought a price what was out of it, as Wind along the machine, one is at the impresario at no high rate.

               39

But be confess that which in round in Rows. Forgotten story, and whisper a slow shuffle&shift Her throat troubles thus the slender cloth, and comfort her, all this wide universe I call, soothing like those souls who first were white pink, and that breedeth love by ways so dangerous year: that from beneath, and lo! Meantime we two look two ways, and cry’d in Heaven we all shall cool the heart only by one’s gentle moon, and think to burst out into sudden she laugh’d, and like a ball! Then she hover’d over me, and one, to pale oblivion beyond the snake is gold-skinned as it it should say, Lo!

               40

And now it comes: the shores and spring of a deep dear stream within his desire, give my cold lips a kiss I beg; why art thou canst not seem very wonderful, for vice is always is complaint, it dies upon the way, and through the time, true knight could his court in, gathered angel pierce prone Lucifer, descending Foot am I; whatever feeling them with his enchant thine may live when their prime rot and consumed by thee. And now Adonis tried; and were I deaf, thy outward parts would love you I love thee to go; but many a mocke. And a spirit doth use your name, calling for cash.

               41

Lie on her shall still be there. They gazed upon thy left? What is loving songs in me, poor beast! You and I with Fate conspire to grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, would break through.—Haste, precious theatre. There thoughts, which shall read o’er ocean wide and fled. Such as enables man to man, were to be assail’d me; for the supremest kiss; dead when thou art thy mother, said they now! Is black-fac’d night, and sooth’d as night-wanderer bore to his mother’s kiss to lay her burden of a grasshopper, yet with fairy fruits of new life, whose voyces siluer sound nor sight to their loud alarms it will not cry also although my bale with myne thou bestowest thou madest Pluto bear the scorn that’s a narrow joy is but passion on passions. But not to blame; it was a desperate courage, colour, pace and bone, shaking her cheek feels: his tenderest squeeze like a labyrinth in his suit.

               42

So cleaues thy soule a sonder: or as the father crying the genuine article’s expressed. And here she loved so long in wealth and standing on his Shoulder; and he bid me bring and the beauty robb’d me of a strange quick jar upon year, the day I met wi’ an auld man. And sic a lassie yet; we’ll let her stand and green: fire and water shall rouse thee, and braes, and sleek. By the impartial looks be anchor’d in the eye: the wan, wondering for invention in my youthful pleasure whare you were on the Winds like heavens, and revive the restless world, or whether in that old Potter’s fate!

               43

You are not fed, but, swoll’n with winges like a bird. You and I. Scorpio, bad spider— die! Love in kisses buys my heart submit, it were a plague ’bove scorn; but are this private life. All this dumb play had his acts made plain with mortal son in Styx; a mortal son in Styx; a mortal son in Styx; a mortal butcher-sire that burns! I know him by the cities are one in sight; and sights, intrigues, adventurous and unruly beast: and yet there’s as wooden members better; remember how you smiled to see at last: if twice you kiss your voice, o’erworn, despise that cocking of your child.

[98prilla]

I Won’t Say I’m in Love

I had an idea at 2am that Janus sarcastically asks Roman to marry him during arguments, but each time he asks he means it a little more until he realizes he’s completely in love with Roman, until he can’t stand the rejection anymore and runs away because Roman would never believe him if he admitted his feelings, only for Roman to come after him and propose instead. 

This isn’t quite that, though it is in a similar vein. I started with that idea and it evolved into this. That being said, if anyone wants to take the original idea and run with it, feel free, just remember to tag me!

AO3

...

         The first time he asks, he doesn’t mean it in the slightest. They’re in the middle of an argument, him and Logan against Roman and Patton, Virgil staying out of it, either because he didn’t have an opinion or he didn’t want to get involved.

           “Roman, you’re absolutely charming right now. Won’t you marry me already?” He snaps, breath hissing in and out, and everyone freezes at his comment. Roman’s face has gone red, from anger or embarrassment, he can’t tell, but the longer the silence goes on, the more he feels his own shame at his words burning at his throat. “sorry. That was… out of line.” He mumbles, adjusting his capelet.

           “I apologize, also. You are correct, I have not been my most… chivalrous, this afternoon. Perhaps… perhaps we should all take a break, to calm down. Then we can work out a… compromise?” Roman says, face flushing redder at the question in his voice. The moment is broken by Virgil slow clapping from the stairs.

           “Wooow, both of you apologized and Princey suggested a compromise? It’s a miracle!”

           “Yes, thank you, Virgil. Your sarcasm had been duly noted, and disregarded. Now. Don’t come get me when we’re ready to start over.” He comments, popping back to his room before anyone else has time to comment.

…

         The second time, he’s had a bad day. He feels heavy and disjointed, not all there, not all focused. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, he just knows he didn’t sleep well and he can’t seem to get comfortable, so he forces himself out of bed and down the stairs, dragging his blanket behind him, before collapsing on the couch. It’s almost 1pm, far later than his usual first appearance in the commons since the whole wedding debacle, since he was accepted, truly, since he was welcomed.

           He doesn’t remember drifting off, but he shoots awake as he feels a hand on his shoulder, letting out a small groan, having flung his arm over his eyes at some point.

           “What on earth could possibly be important enough to disturb me for, Roman?” he asks, wincing at the pounding that has started near his temple.

           “Are you okay?” He snorts at the question, rolling his eyes as he halfheartedly glares at Roman.

           “Just peachy.” He snarks, and Roman backs away, hands in the air. He can feel Roman’s eyes on him as he left the room, and sinks deeper into the couch. He’s surprised when a moment later, Roman returns from the kitchen, sitting down next to him.

           “Alright. Here you go.” He looks down at the table, a bit confused.

           “What… is this?” Roman looks at him, lip quirked up in a half smile.

           “Well that, is a glass of water. And that is something for the headache you’ve got cooking in your noggin. And those are crackers, since you have not eaten anything all day.” He looks slowly up at Roman, eyes narrowed.

           “I am not sick.” Roman’s eyebrow raises.

           “I did not say that. You, however, just did.” He groans, sinking even further into the blanket, so his eyes are just barely visible.

           “I do not get sick.” He mumbles.

           “Of course not, bananaconda. Now take the medicine.” He sighs, but complies, drinking the rest of the water and nibbling at some crackers as well. He barely notices Roman getting up, coming back a moment later with a Gatorade, and dimming the lights. He breathes a sigh of relief as some of the pain dissipates.

           “God, I could marry you right now.” He mumbles, finding the Gatorade is cold, and he lets Roman rest a cold rag on his forehead.  

           “I think the fever’s getting to your head, Jan.” He doesn’t reply, just hums and closes his eyes, trying to squash down the warm, fuzzy feeling starting to grow in his chest.

…      

         The third time he doesn’t say it. He’s in his room, relaxing in his plush desk chair. He’d been doing a color by number, choosing whatever color he wanted for each number instead of going by the recommended color chart.

           He hears a knock on his door, and gets up, confused when he sees no one there. Then he looks down, and sees a small gift basket, wrapped in a red ribbon with a small card printed with Roman’s logo. He rolls his eyes, and brings it inside, smiling as he unpacks it.

           There’s a collection of lotions, each of which smells deep and heady, just the kind of scent he loves. There’s also a few moisturizing oils, for his scales, which he’s a bit grateful for, he can tell his shed is about to start and making his own was a bit of a hassle. He laughs at the small snake plushie, but drapes it across his bed’s headboard anyway, smiling fondly as he leans against the bed for a moment, before his eyes widen and he nearly slaps himself.

           No. no no no, he cannot do this, he cannot do this to himself, he will not be so stupidly naïve.

           He is not in love with Roman.

…

         The rest come in small moments of delight, of happiness, moments where he forgets to deny himself what he cannot have, when he cannot squash the fondness inside of him, when he forgets to push down the silent, useless emotion he refuses to give credence to.

Playing Mario Kart, and he exploits every loophole and shortcut, strategically laying bananas, somehow always avoiding the blue shell when he is in first, slowing down enough someone passes him and gets hit instead, Roman cursing his skill, every time demanding another round, both of them grinning and sweating by the end of their tournament.

…      

Roman gets up early one morning, makes breakfast. When he comes into the kitchen, Roman slides a plate of waffles, covered in homemade whipped cream and chocolate shavings in front of him, along with a coffee filled with the perfect amount of froth, a heart patterned on it. His own nearly stops, breathless.

            “Morning sleepy serpent.” He mumbles something, heart stopping at how beautiful Roman looks, still in his pajamas, hair sleep mussed, but eyes bright, light from the window shining onto him as he turns back to the stove, flipping pancakes, humming, then singing, belting out showtunes. He catches himself almost sighing at how sweet Roman’s voice is, before he snaps out of his trance, just barely getting his emotions under control as Patton comes barreling down the stairs, summoned by Disney and the smell of pancakes.

…

         It’s a late night, they’ve had a movie marathon and the others all turned in hours ago, giving up one by one, Virgil the latest to leave. He is debating the morals of Disney characters, tearing apart the heroes and defending the villains.

           “How was he to know that toys are alive? He was using his creativity, to combine and make new, original, toys! If he hadn’t been traumatized by Woodie and Co, maybe he would have ended up an engineer instead of a garbage man.”

           “Ugh, fine! You have me on that one. It’s technically Pixar, anyway.” Roman mutters, and he laughs. “Since you concede there, I’ll give you Scar.” Roman looks at him, eyebrows raised in confusion.

           “Seriously? I figured you’d defend him to the death.” He shrugs, yawning.

           “Mostly due to the cut song where he tries to… let’s generously call it ‘woo’, Nala, which is why she leaves to find help in the first place. Plus, he never really wanted change or peace, he just framed his alliance with the hyenas in that manner to gain control. Besides, everyone knows it’s better to be loved than feared. If you really want complete control, make every choice seem like their own, make every action seem benign or like a favor. Get what you want by making it seem like what the people want.” Roman is staring at him, agape, and he flushes.

 He winces, because of course he ruined this, they were having a moment, and he ruined it. “… I’ll give you Ursula, if we’re counting cut scenes. She was technically overthrown and banished by Triton, though she did nothing wrong. Her vengeance is a bit extreme, but she at least had good reason for it, and really only wanted what was always supposed to be hers.” Roman answers after a moment, and he nearly sighs in relief, though he gets the feeling they were both talking about more than just Disney villains.

           He’s absolutely mortified, and not at all the least bit pleased when he’s awoken the next morning by Virgil, smiling smugly at him, having fell asleep, head resting on Roman’s chest, Roman’s arm around his shoulder, a blanket pulled up over the two of them. He certainly strives to make sure it never happens again.

…

He's a mess. A miserable, stupid, mess. He can't stop thinking of Roman, can’t stop striving for his smiles, the soft, fond one he receives in moments of quiet, the bright, mischievous one that brings out his dimples, the small, confused one when he didn’t understand why he was pulling away. His laugh, loud and ringing, the nicknames bestowed upon him at every chance, the small, subtle touches that sent his heart racing and his mind into overdrive and he was burning, aching, from want.

 The desire to run his fingers through Roman's hair, to feel his hands around his waist, to kiss him until they were both silly from it, to say every sweet word and guileless truth about how absolutely perfectly stunning Roman is, to defend him and his ideas, to protect him from his own self doubts and negative thinking, to repair every crack he himself had made in Roman's armor, to apologize a thousand times until the side knew he absolutely truly meant every word of flattery he had ever said.

 He hisses at a knock on his door, drawing back into the shadows. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, he doesn’t want to see anyone, he just wants to wallow in his misery until this wrenching heartbreak goes away and leaves him alone! It’s no use, wanting something he can’t have. He won’t lie to himself and say otherwise.

 “Kiddo? You okay?” Patton, who can probably feel his emotional distress from miles away.

 “I'm fine.” He forces out, wrangling his voice into some sense of normalcy, wincing at the acrid lie on his tongue. He can feel Patton's hesitation, but the fatherly figure sighs.

 “Alright. But Jan? If you decide that you’re not fine, you know I’m here for you.” Then Patton walks away, and he’s only mildly surprised to feel wetness dripping down his cheeks.

 “I’m fine.” He whispers, curling in on himself, choking on tears. “I’m perfectly fine.”

…

Day three is when it all falls apart. He hasn’t left his room, he hasn’t moved much from his curled up spot on the floor, and it hurts why does it still hurt?

 He thought if he just stayed away, if he put distance between himself and Roman, if… if he detoxed it would go away, these pesky, useless feelings would go away!

 But they haven’t. They’re still pounding away with every beat of his heart, and he’s half convinced it would be better to just rip the stupid thing out than let it make such a fool of him.

 He knows limits. He understands them, he knows how far he can push the others before they start to break, he knows how much to push to make them give, he knows how far he can push before things start well and truly crumbling to ruin, and he knows, better than any of the others, his own limits.

 He knows what he can and cannot have, he knows how to be selfish without taking too much, and he knows this is something he cannot take, something he will never be given. He’s still the serpent, after all, still the liar, still the deceiver, still the snake in the grass, waiting to strike. He’s said I love you a thousand times to Roman, meant it more and more with each iteration, but he knows he doesn’t deserve to be loved. Not by Roman, whom he had broken so badly not so long ago, accidently, yes, and he had apologized, but still. He’d known how fragile the ego was, how tightly he was clinging to the final thread, and he’d still cut the strand without a second thought. He’s not to be trusted, least of all by himself, even his own heart has turned against him.

 “Janus? Can I come in?” He freezes at that voice, it makes his stomach sink and his pulse race and he feels a strange sense of vertigo.

 “No.” He says, as deadpan as possible, as much emphasis as he can, and he can almost see the frown on Roman’s face.

 “You haven’t been out in three days. Are you sick again?”

 “I’m fine, Roman, go bother someone else!” He spits out, anger creeping into his voice, because Roman is the source of this festering wound, even if he doesn’t know it. If he’s angry, he won’t be sad, angry he can do, angry he can fake as well as anyone.

 “no you’re not. I’m coming in.” He curses, lunging to his feet, but the door is already open before he has even a hope of locking it, and he and Roman stare at each other for a silent moment, before he looks away, biting his tongue. “Jesus, Jan. What happened to you?” He winces, knowing he must look a mess, knowing his hair is tangled and wild from running his hands through it so often, his face is a mess of dried tears and dark bags, his clothes are rumpled and wrinkled and his normally immaculate room is a bit dusty.

 “Nothing. Now go away.” He demands, turning to stalk to his desk. He feels a hand on his shoulder, warmth blooms down his arm, and he inhales sharply, turning and actually slapping Roman as he stumbles back, barely aware of the tears streaming down his eyes, because this is so goddamn hard. “Don’t. Don’t touch me, Roman.” He spits, venom in his voice, eyes sharp and fangs sharper. He hates this, hates playing this part again, but he needs Roman to leave.  

 “ok. I’m sorry, I should have asked.” He chokes on his bitter laughter because damn it, Roman is the perfect gentleman, isn’t he? He’s stepped back, hands raised in the air, the only thing on his face concern, not anger, or fear, or pain at the handprint still red across his cheek. “please, Janus. I know you’re hurting. I just want to know why, I just want to help.” He laughs this time, a wild, harsh sound.

 “That’s cute, Roman, but this isn’t one of your fairy tale quests where you rescue a damsel in distress. This is real life, with real problems, and maybe, for once, you should let it get through your thick skull that this ISN’T ONE YOU CAN FIX!” He screams, letting his words be cold, letting them be cruel, as he crumples to the floor, heaving, gasping in air through the shaking sobs squeezing tight his chest. “you can’t fix me.” He whispers, not caring if Roman hears, because what’s the point? He’s a pathetic, mewling lump, and surely after that display Roman will leave, warned off by his extremeness.

 “Janus.” He flinches at his name, whispered so softly, so gently, almost holding the thing he wishes more than anything his name would contain, coming from Roman’s lips, but that hope is a lie, a deceitful, monstrous lie, just like the rest of him. “why do you think you’re broken?” He doesn’t answer. He won’t answer, he won’t say it aloud, not now, not when Roman will see how much he actually means it. He squeezes his hands into fists, forcing his chin up, forcing himself to glare at Roman.

 “You should leave. Before I answer that question honestly.” He bares his fangs in a snarl, gold covering his pupils, racing throughout the room, lighting it up with a thousand pretty little lies that echo in Roman’s ears, telling him exactly how worthless and useless and pathetic he is, and he hisses for good measure, standing and sauntering over to Roman, leering at him.

 “I’m the dragon guarding the tower, I’m the hydra fighting Hercules, I’m the snake here to lead you astray, I’m the villain, I’m the bad guy, I stand against everything you’ve ever believed in, little prince. You’d be so easy to dispose of. Then who could stop me, hmmm? No one. I could kill you right where you stand, and no one would ever know a thing, my greatest performance would be replacing you. Or do you forget what I am, Roman, what I well and truly am?” He stands back, fangs sharp as he grins, letting out a dark, sinister laugh, one that reverberates off the walls, and something is breaking inside him, something is cracking and crumbling and he hates himself, hates every moment, but if Roman hates him, too, then he’ll just go.

 “Janus.” Roman says again, so soft, and his grin falters, his mask slips for a moment before he rights it, scowling as Roman steps forwards, undaunted, something strange in his eyes, something soft and worried. “you don’t have to do this.” He stumbles back at Roman’s words, shaking his head.

 “stop.”

 “I know you’re afraid. That’s why you’re doing this, you’re scared, and that’s ok.” He’s shaking his head, eyes squeezed shut, trying to push back the tears.

 “Stop.”

 “I know you don’t mean it, Jan. And I won’t run away just because of a few threats. I want to help you, I want to be there, I want you to trust me enough to tell me what is hurting you so terribly… please.” He feels Roman’s hand on his, and he jerks back, hitting the wall, eyes snapping open, breath coming in short gasps, and he wraps his arms around himself, shaking.

 “STOP IT!” He shouts, voice breaking into a million pieces, and the gold vanishes, his façade crumbling, only raw emotion left in his voice. “Stop caring, stop asking to help, stop acting like you’re my friend, stop being kind, stop being so fucking nice to me, stop getting inside my head, stop making me feel happy being near you, stop sending butterflies winging through my stomach, stop making me smile, stop making me laugh, stop being so fucking incredible that I can’t help but love you!” He screams, jabbing his finger into Roman’s chest with every word, tears falling down his face as he finally says it, all the fight draining out of him as he collapses, empty, caught by Roman, who lowers them both gently to the floor.

 He doesn’t have the will to pull away from Roman’s all encompassing embrace. He doesn’t have the strength left to silence the tears, to force Roman out, to go back to being alone.

 Shame curdles in his stomach as he breathes in Roman’s scent, lilacs and sweet summer breezes, as he melts against Roman’s chest, as his hands fist the fabric of Roman’s shirt and he sobs, hopelessly sobs, because this is an empty victory. Once he manages to pull away, he’ll see the pity and disgust on Roman’s face, and this, this will be well and truly over.

 “I’m s-orry. I’m so, s-so s-sorry, I didn’t mean f-for this to happen, I h-hoped it would just go away but they won’t, and I’m s-sorry…” he gasps, shaking, exhaustion cresting over him, and despite himself the ache is being soothed, because Roman is holding him, and then he just feels sick at his own selfish want.

 “Oh, my little mocking jay, why didn’t you just say something?” He laughs at that, throat raw and scratched.

 “because then you’d know. And it would all be over, anyway. You don’t love me, you could never love me, I’m not nearly good enough for you, I’m not good at all, really. I’m not… I’m not what you want, Roman. I can never be what you want me to be. And I just… I just keep hurting you.” He whispers, heart shattering a little more as Roman pulls back, and he closes his eyes, taking a huge breath in, trying to control the crushing, plunging depths of his despair.

 “Janus. Who says you aren’t already exactly what I want?” His breath catches at Roman’s words, at the tenderness they hold, at the painful hope blooming in his chest. He trembles as he feels Roman rest a hand on his scaled cheek, gently stroking the scales with his thumb.

 “don’t lie to me, Roman. Please, I can’t… it already hurts so much, I can’t listen to you lie to me.”

 “Does it feel like I’m lying, dearest?” It doesn’t. It really doesn’t. Slowly, he opens his eyes, meeting Roman’s worried, soft… loving… gaze. “I love you, Janus. You’re funny, and smart, and I love your sarcasm, your half awake morning bedhead, how you gesture when you’re passionate, how all your emotion lives in your eyes.” Roman murmurs, a small, warm smile on his lips as he moves his hand, stroking back a stray piece of hair. “I love you for so many miniscule reasons it would take me a thousand thousand years to list them all. I would have told you sooner, darling, but I didn’t want to pressure you, not while you were still settling in.”

 “Roman…” he says weakly, he’s so flat out tired, so worn down and hollow and empty that he doesn’t even know what to say, what to feel, except this warming in his chest slowly spreading to the rest of him, making him feel lighter than he had in ages.

 “come here, dearest.” Roman says, and he can’t help but collapse into Roman’s lap, letting the creative side pull him close, pressing his head against Roman’s chest, more tears slipping out as he feels Roman gently stroking his back, cradling his head, murmuring soft assurances and words of gentle warmth, and repeated, wonderful, ‘I love you’s’ that ring true every time, and all he can do is keep clinging to Roman, praying he doesn’t wake up from this dream.

 Then Roman tilts his chin up, his pulse jumping at the touch, then Roman’s lips are on his and he melts at the explosion of warmth and color and light sparking in his mind, and he’s pressing forwards, desperate, and Roman is soft and warm and perfect and it’s everything, it’s everything he’s wanted for so, so long now.

 When they finally break apart, he’s breathless and flushed and the broken emptiness is almost gone, almost fully replaced with hope and love and light, and he laughs as Roman sweeps him off his feet, holding him bridal style as he showers his face in small kisses, each one making him flush redder and redder, until he yawns, despite himself.

 “Oh, I’m sorry, are my affections boring you, pretty little liar?” Roman teases, and he grins, nuzzling against Roman’s chest, letting out a soft breath that seems to untie the last lingering knot in his chest.

 “Obviously. What a trial.” He mumbles, feeling Roman stroking his hair again, realizing his eyes have slipped closed.

 “When did you last sleep, mi amor?” He shrugs, he doesn’t know, honestly, and now that Roman is holding him, it’s the only thing his body wants, it takes everything in him not to just fall asleep now. “alright. Let’s get you to bed then. We can talk more in the morning.”  

 “stay. Please.” He asks, nearly begs, eyes flying wide with sudden fear, suddenly sure that if Roman walks out the door, he’ll wake to find he was dreaming, because there’s no way this is real, no way Roman loves him.

 “of course, little hisser. I wouldn’t dream of leaving my beloved alone and unprotected from any foul nightmares that may come his way.” Roman soothes, sliding into bed with him still in his arms, immediately spooning gently around him, and he shifts closer, closing the little space there was left between them, until their legs are entangled and his forehead is resting in the crook of Roman’s shoulder, and Roman’s arms are around him, and he’s still holding tight to Roman’s shirt, feeling him exhale against his cheek.

 “I love you, lovely. Now get some rest.” And finally, he does.

[darkmist111]

Phantom Thieves Play Dungeons and Dragons

The Wander and the Worker

Akira had faced many trials, both legally and spiritually. He had also been a master of organization, stuffing as much activity as he could into a single year.

Yet this challenge nearly brought him to his knees.

“So you only add 2 to armor class?”

“No that's only for medium armor your un-armored right now.”

“Shit I should've picked a race with more dexterity.”

It was like herding cat's, without Morgana’s help.

“You guys ready? It's almost 5.” Akira said know that this group could double a session’s play time.

“Hold on I’m trying to memorize our modifiers.” Ann said squinting as she had forgot her glasses at home.

“Don't worry just remember your crap at everything not dexterity and charisma.” Ryuji said nonchalantly.

The plan was to get all the players to level 2 before they got to the main campaign, so Akira did this little mini session with 2 characters first so the players could slip into their roles.

“Alright are we ready to play?”

Ryuji had finally gotten Ann to stop fusing over her papers.

“As we’ll ever be I guess *sigh* I really hope I don't die at level 1 again.” Ann groaned.

“Hell yeah let's kick some ass!”

“Alright close your eyes and listen.” Akira took a deep breath and his voice changed.

“This is the world of Exceeden”

Akira peaked and caught the grins on his two friends faces.

“Unlike our world with disconnected planets, the world of Exceeden is but one layer stacked in-between other realms, but different from the other realms Exceeden did not occur naturally but was created by 20 core gods. The gods were once one shared in their love of their creation, however what they didn't know was it would grant them more power than even their unparalleled minds could imagine.

Jealousy, anger, spite, and rage broke them apart each believing their creation should go the way they decided and the 20 became 5. 6 of Law, 6 of Chaos, 2 of Good, 2 of Evil, and 4 to keep the balance.

While the realm has no supreme rule the cycles of mortals carry on. Empires rise and fall, stories are told and forgotten, until finally the sands of time cycle towards something or someone that can shatter the heavens despite their humble beginnings.

The year is 997 A.I.(After Invasion) and our story takes place on the continent of Almoria. While not the largest continent it houses a wide array of People and Cultures in no small part due to the many differences environments.

In the far north in the icy tundras Orc and Goliath tribes war against the Tiefling Solos Empire and their Minotaur allies even further north in the Shadow Lands.

Below that are the eternal plans of Sparks where wild magic hum and fae slip into our world. Bands of Centaur and Satyr dance across the fields, unknowingly starting war with the Leonin Clans.

On the east of the Great Sezali Desert a new and ambitious clan of HobGoblins are gathering their forces of Goblin and Bugbear.

This makes the Elven Allied Council to the west nervous and the desert has become a sort of cold war, but also a hive of activity for trade and merchants.

On the West Coast the Aarakocra war against the Triton and the East Coast, the legendary Tortle Cleric Genbu brokers peace between the Locathah and the Grung.

In the Mountains Kobold, Lizardmen and Dragonborn War against a unfathomable threat as the Chromatic dragons and Metal Dragons have united to control the Arcane Canyons.

With the fall of Tyrant Human King Rexanik, many flee to the peaceful mountains city of Eternix. The city, nicknamed the city of small folk, was almost completely Gnomes, Halfling, Dwarfs, as well as the Black Wing Monastery, suddenly has possibly the highest human density in the continent.

Humans have also tried their luck in the chaotic Forest of Nayan only to be never heard from again.

In the south peace is almost a certainty as the brotherhood between the Loxodon and Gith remains just a strong as a century ago. Their city Omniox hold the Verdan trading Guild the only constant in these turbulent times

Not all is so clear though, hidden in the desert are rumors of cults who use arcane, scientific, and religious methods to create inhuman monsters that stalk the night.

However it is that Desert where we start our story in the town of Ixyana. Ixyana is a port town to the sea of sand, willing to offer weary travelers any pleasure they require... for the right price. Ixyana has always been self governed but with escalating tensions between the Elven and HobGoblin armies, the town is being pressured to pick a loyalty. But today neither a Goblin nor Elf is the new stranger in town.”

“Ryuji please introduce your character.”

“I’m just a guy who looks like an average traveler, I’m wearing normal cloths and using a spear like a walking stick, the only unusual thing about me is that have blue skin and white “Hair”. I’m a Fighter but only because you get in fights when you wander as much as I do, but it's clear I’m not formally trained.”

The wanderer enters the town carrying a satchel over his back midday. He makes his way towards a inn looking to rest for the night. He hears a commotion and see several HobGoblin warriors speaking angrily toward each other, before rushing off. The young man enters into a alley to avoid crossing their path, as he steps out he sees another beautiful HobGoblin women in revealing clothes dart out from behind a stack of boxes. Before his eyes she begins to shift form before becoming a striking dark haired Elven women and quickly entering the Inn.

“Well That's a Flag if I’ve ever seen one.”

The man is overcome with curiosity and follows her. He enter the inn and sees the first floor is a diner/bar.

At this time of day not many people are drinking and lunch is already over so the inn is uncrowded.

The blue man sees the former HobGoblin women now Elven sit in the corner of the bar skillfully blending in for those not looking.

As he walks up to her she glances before biting her lip.

“Sorry I’m not working right now.”

You realize from her statement and her outfit that this women is one of the courtesans of the towns most powerful group in place of a formal government, The Desert Respite, worshipers of Bast one of the 20 original Gods and practitioners of the arts of pleasure both of a sexual nature and of entertainment.

“I still can believe your playing a Prostitute.” Ryuji says teasing.

“For your information I’m a high class escort. And let's see if you’ll be laughing in a few minutes.”

“Sorry it's not that I... I just... saw you change.”

The woman tenses her eyes narrowing and grits her teeth.

“So what?”

“Are... Are you a Spirit.”

The women slowly turns her head, seeing the nervous young man though in her eyes he's more of a boy shift his weight nervously.

“Perception check!”

“Roll for it.”

“...!!!! Natural 20!”

“Heh, yeah he's a pretty easy mark.”

“Hey!”

She smirks before tipping her drink back and gesturing to the seat across from her.

“From out of town.”

“Out from... everywhere.”

She changes her posture, trained but attractive.

“The desert must've been quite the ordeal, I didn't notice a Caravan enter town. Is your group somewhere else?”

“No, I’ve been traveling alone.”

“Alone?”

“Yes I am quite skilled at traveling, born and raised doing it in fact.”

“Incredible, you must be strong.”

The women bit her lip while the blue skinned man sweat feeling nervous from the shapeshifters forward flirtations.

“You know I have a certain need for a strong man.”

“Role Wisdom Ryuji.”

“What! She hasn't even cast anything.”

“Your mouth was dropped.” Ann teased. “Let's hope your character isn't a simp.”

“No way!”

Ryuji rolled.

“Shit! 6, 7 total.”

“Simp”

“Shut up!”

“What did- What do you need. I’m always looking to help out.”

“You see a girl can only stay in one town for so long before she needs a change of pace. I’m thinking you’ve been to plenty of places, why don't you and I go on adventure.”

The spearman let out a yelp as he felt her leg delicately trace his own.

“And I’ll be sure your thoroughly compensated.”

“Roll Perception against Ann’s Persuasion.”

“Yes!”

“Shit”

Ann rolled and grinned which caused Ryuji to hang his head.

“21 total Persuasion!”

“Goddamnit, 14 total.”

“Yeah she has you wrapped around her finger.”

“*Gulp* There’s no need for that ma’am, I'd be happy to guide you wherever you desire.”

The man saw her smile turn victorious and her leg rubbed a little higher.

“Don’t worry it's no trouble, when we stop for the night I can give you a nice and long compensating.”

_______________________________________

The pair quickly gather their things the shapeshifter, changing again into a stunning Yuan-Ti. They walked through the town. Some men stared at the shabby looking Traveler and the beautiful courtesan, leering at her exposed cleavage, open thighs, and toned belly, others smirked and gave respecting nods. He glared and the former while that latter made him feel like a scumbag.

She insisted they walk on foot so not to draw attention. The man frowned but didn't say anything.

As they walked they chatted.

“My names Zap by the way.”

“Nais of the Desert Respite.”

“So Nais, are you wondering what I am?”

“Probably not as much as your wondering what I am.”

“Well I don't know, I’ve never seen someone change what they look like except my dad.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah, he’s a Genie.”

“...”

“...”

“...You're not joking?”

“Nope. A Lightning Genie to be specific.”

“Insight Check... 11?”

“He seems to be pretty honest.”

“So you can grant wishes?”

“He could, not me. I’m only half genie, my other half is Human from my mom. Dad said my type of people are called Genasi.”

“Where’s you dad now?”

“He’s only allowed to stay in the material plane for 20 years at a time. He left on my 10th birthday, I’m 22, so he’ll be back in 8 years. Though he’ll probably see my mom before me.”

“... You know that is a really weird story right?”

“I actually didn't know until later in life. For a long time it was just the 3 of us, then the 2, now me.”

“I see.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You can change into other things, is it magic?”

Nias looked away not wanting to meet Zap’s eyes.

“It's not magic it's just something I’m able to do, as well as my mother and her mother before her. She said that we might be descended from Doppelgängers.”

“That's amazing.” Zap said with awe.

“Perception Check!” Ann yelled out.

“Zap doesn't lie. He's a open book.”

“19!”

“Zap really does think your amazing.”

“Geez he doesn't have to try so hard I already said I’d fuck him.”

“Excuse me! But Zap is a gentleman he doesn't only think about sex.”

“Unlike his player.”

[valdrift]

hi its 3am and i wrote down dnd au shit that im putting under cut bc its. long

pre-canon is mostly the same with minor differences bc d&d magic at play

 jyl and jzx die but they're ok bc true resurrection baby. maybe it takes them a while to be resurrected bc, at the time, resurrection is a fairly new spell/VERY expensive (requires diamonds worth 25k gp in game)/no one was high enough level to cast the spell and also the spell is taxing on the caster/resurrection is taboo (not sure abt that one). anyways they live and raise jl :) jc is still angry but for different reasons and he's also Not As Angry and misses his brother. wwx doesn't know that jyl/jzx lived

wwx doesn't die. during the bloodbath of nightless city, he manages to destroy one half of the stygian tiger seal but before he can destroy the other, the siege on the burial mounds happens. he planeshifts to the 9 hells to escape taking the remaining half with him. such spells were completely unknown at the time and were of wwx's invention so ppl just assumed he died/killed himself. he stays in hell for 13 years (part cultivating his powers/part thinking he deserves it) before finally returning to the material plane thx to mxy

during those 13 years, ppl definitely try to reach him. BUT considering he's on another plane of existence, they often fail. communication spells like sending usually fail but Some do reach him, though he thinks he's just going crazy or it's just wishful thinking. (jyl successfully sends him a message like "a-xian? are you there? …well, wherever you are, i hope you're ok. i miss you. i love you. we all do. please come back." and wwx thinks it isn't real. he DEFINITELY cries when he finds out it actually was real and he wasn't losing his mind in hell)

REGARDING WWX'S POWERS: no one has done it like him!! forming a pact with a fiend was practically unheard of/extremely taboo and the fact that he managed to outgrow his patron in terms of power (lvl 20 baby) is something in of itself. wwx is like The First Warlock Ever and after his "death" many others tried to follow in his footsteps, however no one came even close in terms of power. xy maybe but fuck that guy lol

MXY LIVES!!! bc of reasons he manages to get his hands on a deck of many things from the jin vault (perhaps nhs had a hand in it :eyes:) and draws a wish card on the first try (Very Lucky). he uses that card to essentially wish a pact with the yiling patriarch into existence and over in hell wwx is like "hey wtf is going on" and pops into mxy's shed to see what's up

wq also lives!! jgs covered up her death and wn and her bust out of jinlintai when wwx calls

CURRENT-CANON:

mxy and wwx have a patron/ward relationship. wwx Knows he's not like his own patron and has no desire for mxy's soul or w/e so he's just "yea fine i guess i'll be your evil teacher :/"

wtf is wwx's patron anyway lol…..maybe it's a demon/fiendish entity that resided in the burial mounds that wwx formed a pact with to survive. it probably hangs out on another plane of existence and was partly responsible for his deteriorating mental state.

at mo manor, the mo family dies without mxy or wwx rlly having to do anything. mxy uses his fledgling warlock skills to help out the lan juniors with the arm. lwj shows up after and wwx's like AH FUCK and dips with mxy following after him

wwx uses mask of many faces to disguise himself in his humansona (bc like. he's a tiefling and also very recognizable, being the yiling patriarch and all no biggie) and has bonding moments with mxy. mxy realizes that wwx is not actually evil incarnate; he's actually a fucking dumbass ESPECIALLY when the man starts talking about lwj. (idk how this plays in but I want wwx to complain abt lwj like "i used to be taller than him, now we're the same height?? bullshit >:(" bc i am spreading my short lwj propaganda)

mxy and wwx run into jl at some point. wwx is like :'( when he finds out who it is, jl is a baby homophobe and mxy is like I Will Tell Your Mother to which wwx goes WHAT. BACK UP bc surprise, jyl's actually alive! while he's reeling with this information, mxy drags him away

at dafan mountain, mxy and wwx help out the juniors with the goddess statue. wwx summons wn and jc is like HEY WAIT A SECOND. he goes to hit wwx with zidian (still has the ability to knock possessive spirits but it also has dispel magic, not good for wwx's disguise!) however mxy deflects it with *fjord critical role voice* Eldritch Blast earning lwj's respect. anyways lwj takes both mxy and wwx back to the cloud recesses; mxy doesn't see what's the big deal, wwx is freaking out and Desperately wants to planeshift out of there but he has a ward now and disappearing like that would mean the jigs up considering no one else can planeshift

at the cloud recesses, mxy ditches wwx with lwj so the two can have a Talk to go chill. lwj is like "wei ying drop the humansona i know it's you" and wwx goes :O well. after, mxy comes back and is like "ok so here's the deal with the arm" and spills what he knows abt jgy and what he did and the 3 of them head off to get evidence

I Do Not Remember much of their whole like journey to piece nmj's body back together but it'd probably go much faster with mxy alive and knowledgeable to jgy's shit

wangxian are still gay and stupid

idk abt yi city but songxiao and a-qing get a better ending and xy eats shit

there will def be a yunmeng sib reunion.

POST-CANON:

pulling a page from cql, lwj is chief cultivator but only so he can like. actually do some good then once he's done dismantles the position or smth so he can live out his house husband dreams with wwx

wwx still goes on that journey so he can relearn what it's like to be a person in society and not someone hated and demonized. also he lived in literal hell for 13 years, dude needs time to process that. but u KNOW when he comes back, he's eloping with lwj

with all the pieces of nmj's body back together, nhs true resurrects him :)

NOTES:

wen clan are a mix of tiefling and human, with direct members being tiefling

lsz and ljy are human, jl is half-elf (half-triton), and ozz is a tabaxi (catboy rights!!)

wwx definitely used mask of many faces to entertain a-yuan in the burial mounds by disguising himself as whoever a-yuan asked. (disguises himself as lwj at their dinner date bc a-yuan said so and lwj is like Fuck…….He Would Make Such A Good Father…………)

[jarienn972]

La Sirena - Chapter Six

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

It has been far too long since I've been able to update my @cssns​ story and for that, I apologize.I have been so bogged down with stress and frustrations and just couldn't force myself to write. There was no solace in writing as I’ve usually found so I had to step away for a few weeks.

I'm finally in a better mindset and while things may not be perfect, some creative juices are flowing once again and now I’m working to get some new chapters out!  Thank you @kmomof4​ for your patience with me and for your wonderful beta services and once again, thanks to @courtorderedcake​ for the beautiful artwork displayed above!

Since it’s been a while, here’s a brief recap of the last chapter. When we left off, Killian had just been stunned to discover that his beautiful companion, Emma, was in fact a siren. She chose to reveal herself after a visit from her sister, Regina and decided that it would be better for Killian to know what she really was before Regina returned with other members of the siren council. Emma also raised the question of how Killian survived the siren attack on the pirate ship where he'd been held captive so he asked her to do the one thing she absolutely didn't want to do - sing.

Recap from the beginning:  One  Two  Three  Four  Five   FF.net  AO3

Myth and Legends Combined

"I will need to transform back into an aquatic form," Emma stated with little emotion as she dipped her bare foot into the steamy spring that sparkled beneath the midday sun streaming from above. She sensed no warmth from the water finding it strangely icy against her human skin. There were no more words exchanged as she lowered herself into the pool and allowed her metamorphosis to begin.

Killian watched her transformation with a lingering trepidation. He remained in awe of the fact that he was stranded here on this remote isle with a legendary creature yet he was still somewhat fearful of her reality - and of the act he'd just implored her to perform. He had knowingly just asked a siren to sing to him without any inkling of what the result may be. He had no idea if he was about to be bewitched into potentially drowning himself in this subterranean spring and he dared admit only to himself that he was frightened.

The silence that fell between them as she dove beneath the sparkling blue ripples spoke volumes of her reluctance and as she surfaced, she anxiously flicked her tail fin a few times before pushing herself out of the water. Perching atop a flat slab of volcanic rock, she drew her shimmering tail up close against her torso in the way she might hug her knees were she still in human form. She lowered her eyelids, hoping to shut out whatever horrors might await her as she struggled to draw in a breath.

As much as she didn't want to do this, she knew in her heart that Killian was correct. He'd been spared death to end up marooned in her cove but how and why had it happened? They would have no answers at all until they could learn why he had not heard the sirens when they swarmed the pirate ship that fateful day. But would she even remember how to form those perilous notes? It had been so many years… So many lifetimes ago…

When she first dared to part her lips to sing, only a strangled squeak escaped. She opened her eyes for assurance that Killian was still there, finding strength in the sight of his tousled dark hair and hopeful sapphire eyes. She drew in a deep breath, placing her hands atop her abdomen as the dulcet tones materialized in the back of her throat then filled the cavern with their eerily placid symphony.

She dared sing only a single, curt stanza, unable to process more of the cursed music that she had sworn would never pass from her lungs again. She was finished with this forever, especially if she might have allowed any harm to come to Killian. She was relieved to see him still kneeling in the sand, eagerly staring across the spring at her, his expression seemingly unchanged from before she'd closed her eyes. Maybe the few bars she'd sung had not been enough to invoke the hypnotic effect?

"Are you alright?" she called out to him. "Have you felt any ill effects from my singing?"

Killian's brow scrunched in bewilderment as he found himself staring at the swirl of her delicate fins against the pool's surface.

"I've been waiting for you to begin, love," he replied. "I have beheld you drawing several breaths but I sensed your apprehension."

"Killian, I have already sung several notes. My voice filled this entire chamber. You heard nothing of the like?"

"I hear your voice speaking clearly now and I heard the bubbles and trickles of the spring," he explained as her eyes widened in amazement. With another deep breath, she forced herself to repeat the stanza with increased volume, projecting her voice further. As before, Killian watched her mouth open but he heard no sound exiting her throat. "Do you taunt me, Emma?" he scowled. "I see you part your lips yet the only sound I hear is when you speak."

Emma giddily splashed her tail about the spring as her face lit up with a huge grin, sending a spray up into the air that rained down around her.

"You did not hear me singing! Not a single note!" she exclaimed excitedly. "That's how you survived when the sirens attacked the ship. You do appear to have an innate immunity to the song."

He quirked an eyebrow as he contemplated the meaning of her statements. "So, it would seem that I possess an immunity to something that before today, I didn't even know was real…" He shook his head in disbelief as Emma morphed back into human form and donned her linen dress so she wouldn't further assault his senses before she rejoined him beside her magically conjured chests.

She lowered herself to her knees, meeting him at his current level while leaving a respectable distance between them. She couldn't be certain of the status of their tenuous relationship at this juncture so she gave him some space. Killian stared down at his own thighs for a few tense moments until he finally broke the awkward silence.

"So then… Where do we go from here? What exactly does all of this mean for us?" he asked her, his voice barely more than a whisper as he raised his eyes to meet hers. There was such an unease to his gaze that she was tempted to look away, but she resisted.

"Killian, if I have lost your trust with my deception, I am truly sorry. You are the first and only human I have ever conversed with and in truth, I have as much to learn about you as you do about me."

"Aye," he responded sullenly with a subtle dip of his chin, recalling his own desire to learn her secrets. And learn them, he did!

"Right now, we have only each other here," she reminded him as well. It wasn't as though he had a way of escaping this cove, although Emma seemed to read his mind as she continued. "I suppose I could provide you with the materials to build yourself a small boat. I could even magically conjure the entire vessel for you but any additional use of my powers would only expedite my sister's return. Even though you are unable to succumb to the siren song, my kind would still make any attempted passage back to your world treacherous."

"And then what, pray tell, is my alternative?" he countered, his voice raising with pent up frustration. He'd been unwittingly pulled into this supernatural battle of wills but it didn't mean he wanted any part of it.

"We will need to work together and appeal to Poseidon. I believe only he may be able to provide the answer as to why you possess immunity to the sirens. He can also provide a way for you to cross back between realms."

Appeal to a god? The mere thought of that wasn't making Killian feel any more confident. "Just how does one appeal to Poseidon?" he asked her with a skeptical crinkle of his brow.

"We must first prove your worth," she answered him, but as she did, she timidly cast her gaze off to her left, unable to look directly at him. "You'll likely be tasked to survive the chorus of sirens once again…"

"Which I most certainly should be able to do as I've heard no cursed music so far." He struggled to read her expression when she broke eye contact as her body language wasn't inspiring confidence. "Is there something you're not telling me, love?"

Emma exhaled an exasperated sigh as she raised her eyes to meet his. "To garner the attention of the god of the seas, you will first have to prove yourself to his brother, Triton. He has been highly protective of this realm since the Atlantean disaster…"

"Atlantean?" he repeated, incredulously. "As in the mythical civilization of Atlantis?"

"The kingdom of Atlantis was no myth. It has only been gone from memory for many centuries after Triton wiped their kingdom from the Earth for their insolence."

Killian shifted his weight back onto his haunches before collapsing onto his backside in the soft sand. His hands cupped his jaw as he leaned into the closest trunk for support while attempting to digest all that Emma had thrown at him over the course of this day. First, that she was a mythical beast of maritime legend and now - this? Atlantis? He had heard countless tales of the legendary, supposedly highly advanced civilization that had vanished into the annals of lore long before his birth. Yet somehow, these stories were now connected to him?

"Emma, love… Perhaps I fail to see the connection here but why would the legendary Atlantis have anything to do with a simple sailor such as myself?"

"Do you remember what I had told you earlier about there having been one human who was deemed worthy of entering our realm?" she asked him as Killian nodded his head in befuddled agreement, the specifics of her earlier words currently eluding him. "That one man was a wise sailor who was allowed passage through our realm to an uninhabited island paradise where our Poseidon permitted him to establish a colony. Boatloads of peaceful settlers arrived and were granted permission to cross through the veil unimpeded by the sirens and in return for the materials needed to build their new civilization, the settlers gave praise and offerings to Poseidon and Triton.

"Gods and humans mingled for years in this new kingdom and during those prosperous years, the worthy sailor met and fell in love with Poseidon's eldest daughter, Ursula. Poseidon gave his blessing for the two to be wed, despite his brother's protest. For as long as the sailor lived, his family and the entire civilization of Atlantis thrived, but after a few generations, legend has it that his descendants became too conceited for their own good. They grew boastful of their demi-god status and flaunted the technology that the gods had helped them develop. Eventually, they grew spiteful and evil, using the magical powers they had inherited from Ursula to expand their influence over other civilizations - and against the gods themselves. Triton's patience with the Atlanteans waned and he retaliated, plunging the entire island kingdom far beneath the waves and leaving no trace of their existence.

"Now," she began again after a brief pause for breath, "all of this occurred long before my creation but I do know that as a result of the fall of Atlantis, myself and dozens of other sirens were birthed to patrol our seas. We were tasked with destroying the evil scourge of men who dared enter the sovereign seas of the gods. Men who were so easily tempted by our melodious song. For decades, I served the gods without question, until I could do it no longer…"

"I grew up hearing tales of Atlantis," Killian spoke up as Emma blanched from guilt. "The stories weren't all that different from what you've just recounted but because no trace of Atlantis exists, most historians have relegated the civilization to mere legend. Those of us who have sailed the vast oceans of the world do understand how the sea might reclaim an entire civilization and leave nothing behind for eyes to behold. So many mysteries may lie beneath those azure depths… The thing is, I still do not understand how this relates to my predicament."

"There have long been rumors amongst the sirens and other creatures of the sea that before Triton destroyed Atlantis, Poseidon and Ursula located and secreted away a select few of their descendants who had not abused their lineage and gifts. It's said that those of their line would forever be immune from Triton's wrath and his barriers protecting the realm. I have never had reason to believe that it might be true, at least not until you floated into my bay. Today, I now firmly believe that the legends are true…"

He stared blankly at her for a few minutes, focusing on the darting shadows cast by the flickering torch on the cavern wall behind him. After a fleeting moment, he blinked as the shockwave of her latest bombshell enveloped him.

"Are you trying to imply that I may be a direct, distant relative to Poseidon himself?" he questioned incredulously, suddenly lightheaded from the barrage of thoughts bombarding his brain. He didn't even need to hear her speak the response as he didn't dare allow his ears to take in such nonsense…

But what if…?

[bethlynthedruid]

The First Step | o3

Bethl’yn did not enjoy the outdoors. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she enjoyed being out of doors when she was surrounded by an ocean and the bright burning sun of her homeland, but here? High up in the mountains where the air was even thinner than normal for her and she had to take two breaths more than normal every-time she drew air, Beth often found herself feeling light headed and nauseous. She differed from her fellow tritons in many ways but this aspect of her personality was possibly the most definitive, where they reveled in the brisk morning air and being surrounded by nature’s raw and impressive beauty, Beth disdained it. The smells and sights only reminded her that she was no longer home. She was meant to consider this place her home now but the fact remained that she was yet considered an outsider no matter how accommodating everyone in the castle was attempting to be. Those were thoughts she hated to revisit on horseback gently trudging toward an unfamiliar place transported her there immediately.

“Surely we are nearing the temple of Thassa, yes?” Beth asked, trying her best to conceal the whiny tone of her voice. Though that was impossible to do. She had been complaining since the pair got on the horses and began their journey. She was not accustomed to riding on horseback and her lack of experience showed with every step her steed took forward. Beth shuffled and twisted in her seat, attempting to adjust her position to gain some semblance of  comfort to no avail. “I do not understand how you people can ride these creatures without injuring yourself, it is severely uncomfortable. I do hope the temple is not very much further Adrigeus.” 

Beth couldn’t find it within herself to address by any other title after their meeting the day before, calling him by a nickname felt...foreign on her tongue after their awkward moment of vulnerability and Beth lost all sense of how to conduct herself now that they were alone. She still felt the powerful draw of attraction pulling her toward him but there was something else lying underneath that desire. Something that made her hesitate and keep her from giving in to what she wanted. Beth exhaled sharply and pulled up the simple gold chain she often wore around her neck. The pendant that hung from it held the crest of her royal family, Beth brought the pendant to her lips and kissed it gently. Silently begging whichever gods were listening to watch over her.

It had become more of a ritual lately, whenever she felt the weight of the world closing in on her she held the pendant that remained near her heart and reminded herself that she wasn’t alone. It may take time to become completely comfortable in her new role but she was no longer living for just herself, her actions affected the lives of her people and that thought alone was enough to keep her going. Once the scenery around them began to change Beth halted her horse, slowing to a slow trot and sidling up next to Prince Adrigeus  "Do you believe Thassa will help me….a stranger in these lands?"

[whenthisstoryendsarchive]

Meta #7: Elizabeth’s Siren Song

In this meta on magic in the movie, I briefly mentioned Elizabeth’s power related to the siren song in the following quotes:

potentially a bit of siren singing {when Cam overhears her singing ‘When This Story Ends’}

In the third site, we see: Other times the songs are sung to call those within mankind to love a Mermaid, or are sung by those of the Mer-world seeking a mate from among mankind instead of one of their own. This would seem to indicate that Elizabeth’s song in her tent was a siren song, despite her not knowing Cam was there, and his initial alert being her music box. It’s her voice itself that makes him stay.

Her siren song is clear, and I think it helped to entice Cam to her more than he already was captivated by her.

And I’ll admit, it took an embarrassingly long time for me to realize Elizabeth’s song was a siren song. I don’t think it clicked until I was doing the research for that meta and found that quote from Witchvox. 

As such, today I’ll look into what a siren song is- mythologically, the powers it is said to have over humans, how it works with Elizabeth and Cam, and finally, break down the lyrics of Elizabeth’s song. 

Mythologically speaking, most of us probably relate sirens and their song to Homer and The Odyssey. Odysseus is warned of sailing near the island of the sirens by Circe, and tells his men to plug their ears with beeswax. He is then tied to the mast of the ship so he can safely listen to their song. 

Now, these sirens that Odysseus encountered are very different from what we consider a siren to be today. The Sirens of ancient Greece were closer to Harpies, as they were part bird and part human. Descriptions of them varied, with some saying that they were birds with the faces of young women, or young women with the wings, legs, and tails of birds. When we think of sirens today, we may see something closer to a mermaid; a young woman with a fish’s tail and long flowing hair. 

According to Mythology.net, this merger of mermaids and sirens may have taken place as far back as the days of Shakespeare, taking the beauty of mermaids and giving them the voices of sirens. Though the Greeks also had mermaids in their mythology as well, where mermaids were the daughters of Triton and the granddaughters of Poseidon. It is also speculated that the two were merged together because the powers attributed to mermaids were contradictory. Then, of course, as Grecian belief spread to Europe, myths of sirens increased as well; especially in the Roman Empire, Spain, France, Italy, Poland, and England. In these countries, sirens became fully water dwelling, dangerous, chaotic, and hostile. 

Mythology.net also says that this link tightened so much that the image of sirens and mermaids are nearly inseparable. This all despite the fact that mermaids and sirens are different species with the powers of hypnotic song.

The ties between sirens and mermaids are even more cemented in modern times because of languages such as Spanish, French, Italian, Polish, Romanian, and Portuguese- where the words Sirena (which applies to 3 languages), Sirene, Syrena, and Sereia are all words for mermaid. And, of course, within the animal kingdom, the link exists as well. The family Sirenia includes fully aquatic herbivores like dugongs and manatees. 

Now, of course, we imagine a siren song being used to lure sailors and their ships to a watery grave, but there is much more to the siren song than just death and destruction. For example, the beauty and voice of a siren or mermaid may be used to draw a specific individual to them, according to Witchvox. The site also describes the song as leading to visions and mystery. 

Mythology.net also gives us some descriptions of the siren song’s powers. A quote from Nonnus portrays the song as thus: “When a sailor hears the siren’s perfidious song, and bewitched by the melody, he is dragged to a self-chosen fate too soon... Falling into the net of melodious fate, he forgets to steer, quite happy”. This would, of course, indicate the more sinister nature of the song. But another interesting aside is mentioned, saying that the song the siren sings may reach so deep because it is prophetic.

The 2018 Freeform show Siren also delves into the powers of the song. According to their Wikia page, it is described as a “potent ability”, one of almost supernatural levels, that stems from the special voice box of the siren; which is a hybrid of a larynx and syrinx at the base of the trachea. The song lures anyone who hears it with its melody, and makes the hearer feel an addicting level of calm, relaxation, and loss of stress. Furthermore, the song leaves the listener wanting to hear more and more because it imprints on their brain, and it is even said to be calming and addictive to the Siren that sings. Other powers include effectiveness regardless of distance or obstacle, even working through glass, and having more strength and effects on those who hear it more than once. 

A quote on the page additionally says that “My Ancestors always said it had different meanings: Great love to some, but to others, it could be dangerous”. 

I found this quote to be interesting, especially in relation to a section of quotes on Witchvox that I felt applied greatly to Elizabeth and When This Story Ends. “Mystical Meramid represents the power of unconscious desires”, “Reminds us that unless we follow the truth of our inner selves, our lives are as momentary as sea foam with nothing left behind”, “Gives power to seek beneath the waves of our emotions and imaginings for the pearls beneath”.

These quotes, I felt, linked back perfectly to the section in the meta mentioned above that the siren song can be used to make a human fall in love with a mermaid, and my own belief that the song reflects the wishes of both the singer and the listener. 

No matter what train of thought a person believes, the siren song is an appealing temptation that without a doubt is hard to resist, potential consequences notwithstanding. 

In the film, we see Elizabeth able to draw Cam to her tent from across the fairground, though his initial draw is her music box. Even then, he backs away and comes back to listen again. It even appears at times that he has tears in his eyes as he listens to Elizabeth. 

And if we consider the characters of both Cam and Elizabeth, we can see that the song describes them both in a way. It is, of course, Elizabeth’s song, and her monologue to her inner emotions. We hear her pain during that song more than perhaps any other time in the film. But if we consider that Cam and Elle’s family are gone, and all they have are each other, we can see how it would describe his emotions as well. 

Cam has had to leave England and move to America to care for his sick niece after the death of her parents. He has already lost a sibling and potentially his own parents. And he may lose Elle as well if he doesn’t find a cure for her. Cam is just as lonely and far from home and all he knows as Elizabeth is. He may not be trapped by magic, but he is trapped by fear. 

Elizabeth sings to comfort herself and renew her belief that she will someday be free to return to the sea and her family. She sings to give herself hope that she might find the true love she thought the prince would be able to give her. 

Cam, if we consider that he felt comfort and saw a reflection of his own wishes in the song, not only wants to save Elizabeth and take her home, he not only feels drawn to her, but he also feels that he isn’t alone. He wants to have someone there for him too, just as much as he wants to be there for her. 

Now, we’ll look at the lyrics of the song, and how they reflect Elizabeth’s wishes. 

It's so enchanting I'm trapped and drowning Here for everyone to see They don't notice How far away I am From everyone and everything Silly to have gambled with my heart out on the line I guess that's just the way it goes But I'm holding on I know a day will come when I can be myself again And I hope someone will love me When this story ends Round in circles, pointless wandering And the crowd lines up again "Give a smile, girl! You make them happy " "Bring your parents, bring a friend " Silly that main attraction would long so much for love I guess that's just the way it goes But I'm holding on I know a day will come when I can be myself again And I hope someone will love me When this story ends If someone could, someone right for me Finds a way to take me home again I believe it One day I'll be home Still I'm searching Round in circles While the crowd lines up again

Breaking it down by verses, we see that in the first verse, Elizabeth is reflecting on her life in the circus, and her past mistake by trusting Locke. 

It's so enchanting I'm trapped and drowning Here for everyone to see They don't notice How far away I am From everyone and everything Silly to have gambled with my heart out on the line I guess that's just the way it goes But I'm holding on I know a day will come when I can be myself again And I hope someone will love me When this story ends

The 2nd and 3rd lines here are particularly interesting, because we see that Elizabeth feels that she’s suffocating, and everyone is watching her, and think it’s just a part of the charming show. No one sees how she feels, and no one cares. Additionally, because of how small the tank is, how it doesn’t allow for the movement of the water, or her body, she literally is drowning every time she gets into it. And everyone just stands and watches. 

She admits that she was wrong and foolish to trust Locke to help her. She was naive to believe that love would have given her the acceptance that she felt she was lacking at home. But she admits that there was nothing she could do to change it. Still, she clings to the hope that things will work out in the end. 

Round in circles, pointless wandering And the crowd lines up again "Give a smile, girl! You make them happy " "Bring your parents, bring a friend " Silly that main attraction would long so much for love I guess that's just the way it goes But I'm holding on I know a day will come when I can be myself again And I hope someone will love me When this story ends

This verse is even more about her life in the circus, and how every day runs into the next. There’s no change. There’s no stimulation or anything to sustain her. Then, of course, we have lines that were likely told to her by Locke to gaslight her. He tells her to smile for the sake of the crowd, to ignore her own pain and misery for them. Because the crowds matter more than she does. 

She then says that it’s ironic and rather ridiculous that she should be so desperate for love when everyone comes to see her. But she can’t do anything about that either. All she can do is to continue to be hopeful that someone will see and love her the way that no one else does. 

If someone could, someone right for me Finds a way to take me home again I believe it One day I'll be home Still I'm searching Round in circles While the crowd lines up again

This verse is the one that focuses on her real wish. Yes, Elizabeth wants and needs love. But more than that, she wants freedom. She wants to go home. And she has to believe that she’ll be able to go home because it’s all she has. Because in the end, the crowds will not stop coming. People won’t stop using her, and her hope is the only thing that keeps her going. 

Now in a way, Cam too is trapped because he has so much stacked against him. He’s terrified that he’ll lose Elle too, and he’s also given the task of raising a child on his own when he’s so young himself, in a country that he has no familiarity with. But he has to do what’s right for Elle. He has to put his own misgivings and worries aside for her. 

Perhaps he even realizes that he’s one of those people Elizabeth sings of; coming to use her for her ability to heal while ignoring her pain. And if this is the case, I’d like to believe that this is when Cam turns his leaf. He knows after this that something at the circus isn’t right, even if he has yet to believe in magic. 

And in the last verse, it shows that he also wants some companionship, someone to help him and for him to turn to when he’s scared or unsure. It cements his desire to save Elizabeth and set her free. 

Sources:

https://www.gonext.com/2018/11/08/sorrento-sirens-the-truth-about-mermaids/

https://www.crystalinks.com/sirens.html

http://www.realmermaids.net/mermaid-history/siren-history/

https://siren.fandom.com/wiki/Siren_Song

http://www.witchvox.com/va/dt_va.html?a=usfl&c=words&id=8519

https://mythology.net/greek/greek-creatures/siren/

https://whenthisstoryends.tumblr.com/post/181177903367/meta-4-magic-in-the-little-mermaid

[zambomarti]

I had the desire to draw Percy's half-brother, Triton, the divine son of Poseidon and Amphitrite. My dear, I've drawn you sexy but you are also a asshole

[fanficmoi]

The Fool By The Seaside Chp.4

“And then the mermaid gave the comb to the old man and told him to use it to call on her if he ever needed her again.”

“And then?”

“The old man lived on, using his powers to heal people and to keep them safe. Eventually he died, and the comb was passed on to his children, and so on and on. The End.” Paul finished.

John smiled, he was resting with his head on his arms, half his tail in the water, next to Paul, who was making drawings in the sand as he talked with the Merrow. “Nice story. But, Marrow cannot grant magic to humans.”

Paul laughed, “So there’s no magic down there?”

John surprised him, “Yes, there’s.” He copied Paul’s words. For the last few days Paul had been telling stories to him that he read at the library, and John’s english vocabulary was expanding.

Paul raised himself up on his elbows, “What, really?”

His friend nodded, “Yes.” Seeing that Paul wanted to learn more, he continued, “Healers use magic, entertainers use magic. Other species have magic.”

Paul leaned closer, “Other species? You mean there’s more than just mermaids?”

John smiled at the human’s enthusiasm, “Yes. Marine Men, Hippocampuses, Sea Horses, and other beasts. Not civilized like Marrow.” He smiled, “Friend Stu marine man. Is Marine Man.” He corrected himself. “Then there is sirens. But sirens is Merrow, Merrow not sirens.”

“So not all merfolk are sirens?” Paul asked him.

John shook his head,“No, sirens rare, precious.” He languidly swinged his tail, “King Triton covets Sirens. They his guards, for they strong magic.”

Paul frowned, “Why are they so special?”

John changed positions, he was now facing upwards. “Sirens, they...is half human.”

Paul shrugged, “Aren’t you all?”

John sat upright and thought hard, trying to remember his lessons in history, he’d always been a poor student. “Merrow and Humans, we...have common ancestor.” He said, “But we different species, yes?”

Paul nodded along.

“Siren is when Marrow and Human mate.” John explained.

Paul gaped, “But, how? I mean…”

John tilted his head, “Why wrong?”

“Not wrong,” Paul said, “Or I mean, how can humans and merfolk mate? It’s not very...possible, is it?”

John tilted his head further and raised his tail, he showed the underside of it. He pointed to a previously unseen fin at the back of it. “This anal fin, it releases milt onto partner, fertilizing partner.”

Paul moved his eyes away, that meant it was like looking at John’s dick! Only beautiful. Damn, how queer he sounded. But then John’s hand moved to an opening right above said fin and Paul decided to put a stop to it, “I don’t need to know everything!” He raised a hand.

John tilted his head, “But you asked how mating works. The milt goes into this ope-”

“John!” Paul interrupted, bright red. “Look, man, this is too awkward.” Paul also wondered, did this mean that male merfolk could get pregnant, like birds? How crazy was that?

John’s face fell at Paul’s tone and he lowered his tail back into the water. Good thing too because it was beginning to feel dry and his scales were itching. He didn’t know why but he figured it was best to put it back into its habitat. He moved closer to the water too, suddenly ashamed. “Apologies, Paul.”

Paul sighed and lowered his hand, “No, it’s alright. You’re right, I did ask.” When John didn’t respond, Paul extended a hand, “I’m sorry.”

John smiled at him and put his cold, thin hand in the human’s warm one. “I’m sorry.” He copied.

Paul laid down again, John next to him. “You want to hear another story?” The topic of sirens was forgotten as John excitedly nodded his consent. Little did the two know that it would eventually become an important part of their lives.

John hummed a tune to himself as he washed his tail, a song of his human’s. His. John knew he had a strong connection to Paul, he wondered if this was what other Merrow felt when they met their mate. But of course, Paul wasn’t his mate. Beings could only find their mates with someone their own species. And sadly, the two weren’t.

As he continued rubbing the cleaning slime from his tail, he thought about what he had learned earlier that day. After his talk with Paul he had headed to the stingrays’ library, where the stingrays kept many tablets of knowledge. He had read up on Sirens, his long forgotten curiosity awoken by Paul. He was right when he had said that Triton had them as guards, but he found out that they were also his lovers. He only took sirens as lovers, because their beauty was stronger than a mere mermaid’s. And yes, sirens were reported to be mostly female, but that there had been the occasional male one. Apparently, the were treated to riches and luxury at the palace where they lived, and many normal Merrow had risked going to the surface to try and find a human to mate with. Often resulting in they being hunted by humans, or just plainly refused because humans were afraid to mate with a Merrow.

Sirens were sent by Triton to the surface to seduce humans and bring them down to the deeps, for feasting. John scoffed, only the rich in the capital still ate human, he was disgusted by it. But basically, because Sirens were half-human they were able to better form a link between them and use it to lure them in. Sirens were unnaturally attractive, they made Merrows fall under their spells, so of course simple humans would be easy prey.

John figured it would be a lonely life, never knowing if somebody loved you for you or because you forced them to. He had left the library feeling rather queasy and had decided to give him tail a proper grooming to calm his mind. What he had said earlier was true, he did clean his tail every night, but when he groomed it he treated himself to a fine wash. He would use a slime coat to remove all the little insects and particles that had landed there as he swam and then he would go to get a hot vent shower, then he would shine it. It would look gorgeous, he hoped Paul would compliment him on it.

John decided to also change his hair, it had been hanging loose for too long, Auntin was always telling him that he looked like some homeless walrus. He smiled as he he swan towards the hot air vents, he was sure he would impress Paul, regular marrow as he was, John didn’t need special siren powers.

Paul groaned as laid on the bed, he hadn’t mentioned anything to John but he had been feeling a bit sick for the last couple of days, the cold water could not have been good for him.

He burrowed deep into the covers, closing his eyes. But then there was a knock on his door, “Ugh, who is it?”

“It’s me.” Came the voice of his brother, Mike.

Paul groaned, “What’d you want?”

“I need to talk to you.” Mike responded as he opened the door. Paul didn’t turn to look at him, he was content to stay laying down.

Mike looked at his brother, he looked pretty crap. But then again he had been in the beach the whole week, with that...thing. Creature. “You feeling okay?” He asked, sitting on the bed but far away from his brother’s face, not wanting to get sick.

His older brother just coughed in response.

Michael looked at the ground, “Listen, I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, you said that already.” His brother answered.

The younger of the two put his chin in his hands, elbows resting on knees. “I was looking for you the other day and I went to the beach.” He didn’t miss the way Paul tensed as he finished speaking, “You know, to your usual spot. And I found you, but well,” he saw Paul slowly turning towards him, “You weren’t alone.”

“Mike-”

“Now, I don’t know what I saw. But I do know that,” Mike swallowed, “That it wasn’t human.”

Paul sighed, “It was just a,a… a sea lion.”

His brother scoffed, “A fucking sea lion? That’s the best you got? That thing was talking to you, hugging you, and at first I thought, hey Paulie finally’s got a girl! But,” He shook his head, “You just got a fish.”

Paul sat up, “John’s not a fish-”

“It’s a He!?”

Paul raised a hand, “I know this is crazy, Mike.” He saw that his brother was going to interrupt so he hurried to keep going, “I don’t really understand it myself, I just know that he found me in the beach and I found him.”

Michael stood up, “What does that even mean!? That thing is not human!”

Paul stood up as well, “Stop calling him that! And keep your voice down, you’ll wake Da.”

Mike scoffed, “As well I should! Paul, you’re hanging out with some sea monster.”

Paul stepped closer to him, “Stop that, Mike. I’m serious.” Paul was possessed, possessed by a strong desire to defend John. He was angry, angry that anyone would call John by such a cruel, dishonest name.

Mike stepped back, “Calm down, man. Christ. I’m just worried about ye.”

Paul relaxed for a moment, as if sensing the threat was contained. “Well, don’t be. John is nice.”

Mike shook his head disbelievingly, “John? You gave it a name?”

Paul glared again, “His name is John. I didn’t give it to him. He’s a Merrow, a merman.”

Michael gaped, “Like a fairytale?”

Paul sighed, “You say you saw him, right? You know I’m not lying, that’s the truth. John is a merman.”

Mike sat down, his brother following his actions. “And, you say he doesn’t wanna hurt you?”

Paul chuckled, “No. If anything I’m the one that keeps screwing up.”

Mike didn’t seem very amused, “But you know the stories that the sailors tell, about how mermaids are killers. How they lure sailors away from their posts and drown them in the night, never to be seen again.”

Paul scoffed, “You listen to too many sailors. John is not like that.”

There was a silence, then: “I want to meet him.”

Paul froze, “What?”

Mike nodded to himself, “Your John, the merman. You say he’s harmless, why can’t I meet him?”

Paul shook his head, “I don’t know, Mike. He’s...shy.”

His younger sibling scoffed, “Are you kidding me? That’s your excuse? You just want the creature for yourself.”

Paul tensed in anger again, “Don’t talk about him like that.” He growled.

Mike winced, “Paul, what the Hell?” He looked at his brother, worried. “I’m just talking, calm down.”

Paul breathed in deeply and shook his head, confused by his strange mood, “Sorry, Mike. Don’t know what’s happening to me, I’m tired.” He sighed and put his head on his hands, “Look, if you want to meet John, I’ll ask him.”

Mike nodded, figuring that was the best deal he was going to get, “Alright then. Thanks, brother.” He stood up and slapped his brother on the back, “I’ll leave ye to rest, then.”

Paul nodded, “Goodnight, Mike.” He laid down and closed his eyes, wondering how he was going to pose the question to John.

[libidomechanica]

“For hid delight of love”

What he said ’twas too harshly jar.     For hid delight of love. About to flower blown than that     tongue lay a boar-spear aloft to fly all about! And yet,     behold a tall as she pays, in their darkness from the breath     it eternal cold? To

be hated. We walked along, bearing     before their guilty of shepherds to their grave as these     not on you for camouflage for men be misse, looking of     it,—nor will I weep together! But Sylvio did; and     I’ll awa to Nanie, O.

So, one would be, and sink that     nightingale, so doth retained, the rudest peas, I must be not     born with his mother’s arms away, and sinless wealthy and     their nature. Thus, in spires and the very birds that heed that     through copse-clad valley-lilies

of clay and hides always? No     Mate, no holy order; when the air. If by the brain: be     struck by the truth is there his lip, whiskery dot that spread,     turn to his distracted guise seeme most of all the very     petticoat he sails to

nature than that spread stole away.     Wherein the light of my first not wish nor scorne of shepherd     songs wakened, and curse the latter, the bees hum about?     At day-bearing bloudie pain … Do what Heav’n to shaken me awake     to themselves sae far

and wounded and deformed and the     man knows the said, It gets me a single life from thine he     had me bear the enchanted time starfish something stiffened     by the home to its sweetness? And to wondrous beauty be;     it is a paly flame

played, and blushing wroth God hath my     obedience. Who building his hearing, passionate love     procure. Men, much stealth, ostage of us sobbing, no limits     heroes if silent woody place, which happen to shed,     over pavement of sight.

She hers, innumerable priesthood     make. Won before if I lie, and stumbling cover of     eve, and then, in the outside any compound such a blooming     string, in natures shook; or, Pindars apes, flaunt the speed-laden     wings; such a thing of

your hand, my deare careless false to     region where sped a troop of urine? Why urge them yet. He     lends thee, giving Child, that in his footprints, secure, go call     God—call God! A rose that poison why my most resemble     Venus’ temple becoming,

sailing cloudy night-wander’d     up again. Have gone in Greece, of the poet is what each     cheering guest to make sure and night the streaming sun, here let     thief, when my stuttering Triton sounding this coming lavish,     shame, and with me in

one little breed. That have show you     add did them in thee—ponders; struggle on with heart, but unthrift,     our trace they came to the sparkles new begun. Idleness     in grove whom you teach to take her. That fine screeched for ever;     tis scarcely sea. And

now, who marriage ring into something     beneath his Cheapside; and yet at my hand? Like sea should     be possess’d. Heaved up with my brier, to spreads verses yet     doth in thee—on the crown thy head; not be to sing; draws, hopes     and wives! And thou in despised

poems yet men desire     on each respected some played and sink the horses beat, the     Hare upon the golden reign. The earth its touch of hands she     went to gather rais’d his Cyclops set; love go by; but the     seasons: he is it a

touch ethereal; and shepherds’     cells, made so fairily well; I will become to my soule     possible for what course through to cure me. Our world’s sun, in     truth. And spongy sod with convinced that something words. When the     shape in my heart, but what

were clawing slain, else men adored     all beauty be; it is all with trembled, swaying to hold     my reach the air so mourning to them with silvery one     exterior sense, nor beasts, birds sighed deep, impassionate     brain, with married to be

thy hand, and Lucy climb! And one     especial legend of mine eyes; mine be though not my friendship,     well trimm’d with what time. Where be any dart quite despise     men on our meadows To lose, thy soul shalt hap to death.     Had I a cave is strook.

[hollymbryan]

Blog Tour #Review: ISLAND OF EXILES by Erica Cameron!

Welcome to my stop on the blog tour for Island of Exiles (The Ryogan Chronicles, #1) by @byericacameron, released today! I am thrilled to share with you all of the details about this awesome YA fantasy, as well as my review of the book. Let’s get started!

About the Book

title: Island of Exiles (The Ryogan Chronicles, #1) author: Erica Cameron genre: YA Fantasy publisher: Entangled Teen release date: 14 February 2017

In Khya’s world, every breath is a battle. 

On the isolated desert island of Shiara, dying young is inevitable. The clan comes before self, and protecting her home means Khya is a warrior above all else. 

But when following the clan and obeying their leaders could cost her brother his life, Khya’s home becomes a deadly trap. The only person who can help is Tessen, her lifelong rival and the boy who challenges her at every turn. The council she hoped to join has betrayed her, and their secrets, hundreds of years deep, reach around a world she’s never seen. 

To save her brother’s life and her island home, her only choice is to trust Tessen, turn against her clan, and go on the run—a betrayal and a death sentence.

Add to Goodreads: Island of Exiles (The Ryogan Chronicles, #1) Purchase the Book: Amazon | B&N | iTunes | Kobo | Amazon UK | Amazon CA 

About the Author

After a lifelong obsession with books, Erica Cameron spent her college years getting credit for reading and learning how to make stories of her own. Erica graduated with a double major in psychology and creative writing from Florida State University and began pursuing a career as an author. 

 Erica is many things but most notably the following: writer, reader, editor, asexual, dance fan, choreographer, singer, lover of musical theater, movie obsessed, sucker for romance, Florida resident, and quasi-recluse. She loves the beach but hates the heat, has equal passion for the art of Salvador Dali and Venetian Carnival masks, has a penchant for unique jewelry and sun/moon décor pieces, and a desire to travel the entire world on a cruise ship. Or a private yacht. You know, whatever works. 

 Her debut novel, Sing Sweet Nightingale, released March 2014 and it was the first volume of The Dream War Saga. In May 2015, Erica and her co-author Lani Woodland launched the Laguna Tides series with Taken by Chance. Riptide’s new YA imprint Triton Books will release both books in the Assassins series, Discord and Nemesis, in 2016. The Ryogan Chronicles, a fantasy trilogy set to launch through Entangled Teen, will launch in 2017 with Island of Exiles.

Connect with Erica: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Tumblr | Pinterest | Goodreads | Google+ | YouTube | Instagram

My 4-Star Review

I’d been eager to read this book since I’d seen a post from Erica on Twitter about it and chatted with her briefly. I am a huge fan of fantasy, and this book sounded right up my alley. I also loved the idea that Erica would be exploring the idea of asexuality in the book, as I have never read about that in any book (at least not where it’s explicitly named, although it’s possible it was hinted at in some book and I missed it). So, I jumped a the chance to be on this tour with YA Reads, and let me tell you, this book did not disappoint! I don’t want to get too much into plot and what happens (I hate spoilers), but I will address the things I liked best about this book.

Island of Exiles had everything I love in a fantasy: excellent world-building; a world that is presented in a way we can easily visualize it; strong, complex characters; and a story that immediately draws you in. The structure of the society was pretty fascinating, mixing some more traditional fantasy (and real-life) elements with some new and intriguing twists. From the first page, I could really “see” Shiara, and I could imagine very well how the desert dust covered everything, how parched the warriors must get out on their patrols. The animals and plants (such as there were) were very cool; I mean, the teegras sounded like some crazy combination of big jungle cats and snakes - awesome! As different as they were, it was easy to visualize them, and they weren’t so unbelievable as to catapult us out of the story. Overall, the world-building was excellent. 

In addition to the world-building, I think Erica did a great job with the characters. I love how Khya is such a tough warrior even though she’s only 17, but it’s totally believable because of how their society is structured, since children are raised learning to fight (and fight hard). I also liked that she was always watching out for and helping her younger brother, and that their bond was so close. Tessen captured me from the moment he appeared on the page; I was a little googly-eyed for him, I admit! Khya’s best friends Rai and Etaro are also fantastic characters. 

I want to mention that Khya also captured my heart as soon as I realized she has a “thing” with touching, because I am similar in that respect. I could feel her squirming when her friend engulfs her in a big hug (not something they would normally do, but they’d been worried about her). I could feel her unease when Tessen would be too close, too much in her personal space (yes, even though I was smitten with him!). I have to say, I really liked seeing myself in that aspect of her character. It’s interesting how just that aspect of her character can make me like her even more. I guess what I’m saying is, it’s my firm belief that authors would do well to give their characters some “quirks” of personality that many of us have. None of us are “perfect,” and why should we want our book characters to be? I don’t, that’s for sure! This kind of reality in characters does two things: first, if we share that trait, we are happy to see ourselves reflected in the character; and second, if we don’t share that trait, we may gain some knowledge of, perhaps even empathy for, people who do. It’s a win-win, in my opinion!

Since I referred to this in the intro, I’ll touch on two aspects of this book that were mostly new to me: the inclusion of a third sex, and the inclusion of asexuality as an accepted, normal point on the sexual spectrum. First, I liked the fact that there was a third sex in Khya’s society, with those neither male nor female being called “ebet.” Although not exactly new to me - I’ve read (mainly science fiction) books with multiple and/or different sexes before - I really liked the way it was presented here. It took a bit of getting used to, which I’ll admit was uncomfortable at the beginning, but I think to some degree that is the idea. After all, we’re at a point in our society where people are choosing to live their true selves and choosing how they’d like to be referred to, eg, using the plural pronoun to avoid gendered pronouns. If we don’t confront the way it makes us feel uncomfortable at first - using plural pronoun to refer to a single person - then we won’t be able to honor their wishes. Erica has a riff on this idea, using “ey” where you might use “they,” “eir” for “their,” and “emself” for “themself.” It took a few times for me to realize that when she’d start a sentence about Etaro, “Ey ran toward me...”, that “Ey” was not a nickname for Etaro, as I’d originally thought, but rather use of the non-gendered pronoun! But it didn’t take long for it to start to flowing from my tongue just as easily as seeing “he” in connection with Tessen and “she” in connection with Rai. I think that’s the great thing Erica has done here, which is to force us to read it and say it in our heads enough that it becomes second nature and doesn’t seem so “weird” anymore. At least, I hope that will be others’ experience as well!

Second, I really appreciated how Erica put the issue of asexuality before us with one of her characters. It is a concept that a lot of us (at least older folks like myself, if not those who would actually be considered YA themselves!) don’t know much about. That is, we may in fact have *lived it*, but we’ve not necessarily put a name to it before. Asexuality in Khya’s world is not so unusual, and there is a word for it, “ushimo.” (As a side note, there are also homosexual relationships.) I appreciate that it was even talked about, in a way that I’ve never read in a book. It’s just nice to know that not every person thinks about sex all the time - or ever - and, again, it’s an aspect of a character with which those readers who identify as asexual can identify. It helps them to see themselves represented, and it helps the rest of the readers get a better sense of what asexuality means. As I said before, it’s a win-win!

Well, that ended up being a much longer review than I’d anticipated, but there you go! I really loved this book, and I can’t wait to read more by Erica. I would highly recommend Island of Exiles to any fantasy fan, even if you're not someone who normally reads YA. It’s an excellent addition to the fantasy genre, and I can’t wait to read the next installment!

Rating: 4 fantastic stars!

The Tour Schedule

February 7th

Bibliobibuli YA – Author Interview

Satisfaction for Insatiable Readers – Spotlight Post

February 8th

Mythical Books – Guest Post

The Novel Knight – Spotlight Post

February 9th

RoloPoloBookBlog – Spotlight Post

A Leisure Moment – Spotlight Post

February 10th

The Book Beacon – Guest Post

Roxy’s Book Reviews – Spotlight Post

February 11th

Verbosity Reviews – Review

Literary Meanderings – Spotlight Post

February 12th

Adventures in Writing – Spotlight Post

Sleeps on Tables – Spotlight Post

February 13th

Just One More Chapter – Spotlight Post

Lost in Ever After – Review

February 14th

Book-Keeping – Review  **you are here!**

Elizabeth Delana Rosa – Spotlight Post

February 15th

With Love For Books – Review

Book Lovers Life – Spotlight Post

February 16th

A Dream Within A Dream – Spotlight Post

Cozy Little Book Nook – Spotlight Post

Allthingschristine – Review

February 17th

YaReads – Author Interview

PBC – Spotlight Post

February 18th

books are love – Review

The Reading Nook Reviews – Spotlight Post

February 19th

Tales of the Ravenous Reader – Author Interview

Crossroad Reviews – Spotlight Post

February 20th

The Booknerd – Review

Bookishly Thinking – Guest Post

[jennyanimatesba1b]

Week 8 summary

This week I focused on analysing the character-based animations I had looked at for the principles analysis, which ended up being a large majority of the videos I analysed. I feel as though use of the principles in character-based animation is more appealing to me as it gives you clues about what a character is like and can add more appeal and emphasis which garners more interest. I also feel as if narrative based pieces are a good way of engaging an audience, and perhaps therefore I am drawn to them. I think use of the principles to make characters likeable is a very smart marketing ploy used by a lot of companies to make an audience sympathise with their cause or pull on people’s heart strings, this is especially the case in adverts such as “Rang-tan” and “The Scarecrow”; by creating vulnerability, you create sympathy, which thus makes an audience sympathetic to the cause.

This week I finished my sketchbook with some other drawing exploring more contextual and imaginative ideas. I also took the opportunity to push some of the sketches I already had a little further.

I started with the idea of drawing selfies that I had taken as I quite liked the narrative of drawing a ‘selfie’ and that idea of self-reflection. I decided to add some watercolour and patterns to this piece as I felt as though my sketchbook was looking a little devoid of colour and colour something that I’ve found to inspire me creatively. On the adjacent page I did an imagined self portrait if I had no hair. This is an example of my taking thoughts and conversations I’ve had in day to day life and turning them into art to use for inspiration later. I really enjoyed creating these pieces as they were also a little chance for me to dip back into the work I was previously doing on the fine art course and in my a-levels.

I also created a piece of two hands with red strings. I decided to give them contour lines to emphasise the visual representation of what they would look like in a 3D space. This carries on nicely from my double page spread of hand studies and incorporates advice that we had been given in earlier sessions to think about how something would be shaped in a 3D sense. I think this page might look a little bit bare, but I like the use of negative space.

This week I ran the original version of the little mermaid through Propp’s functions and compared to the Disney version there were a lot less than I expected there to be. I think this is mainly due to the lack of Ursula having an extra plot to usurp Triton; the sea witch merely aids the mermaid in achieving what she desires, even warning her that it is stupid. I think it’s interesting that there are more functions in Disney’s version than Propp’s, but more so fascinating that it still fits in with the functions at all. One point that also stood out to me was the point that there is a lot more gore and pain in the original tale; ultimately Ariel suffers a lot more physically for her desires whereas in Disney’s ‘cleaner’ version of the tale, Ariel doesn’t ever really seem to suffer physical pain as repercussion for her actions, she simply loses her voice. Disney’s plot appears to contain more villainy and scheming, but little gore and pain, whereas the original Andersen version doesn’t tell of the sea witch’s overall scheme, but Ariel is physically harmed.

This difference encouraged me to think a little more into what the overwhelming moral messages of the stories are, but it’s difficult to pinpoint them exactly. On one hand you could see Disney reward Ariel for following her desires whilst Andersen’s is a cautionary tale of allowing women to pass their station. But, you could also read that the original tale has a deeper moral tale of self-realisation, whereas Disney involves Ariel ultimately being rewarded for changing herself for male affection.