#i have. so many incomplete scrambled thoughts

[shoezuki]

random divinity au things about Aha!Sampo to get it out of my skull cuz im bored n waiting for class rn

Aha is first and foremost The Elation, but it goes beyond that; Aha is the aeon of mortality. Things like emotions and feelings, desires, the very ability to change, etc. are only really afforded to mortal beings.

Aeons are the pinnacle of immortality; they can't feel emotions because of this. they can't really want for anything beyond what they are 'created' for in a sense. Qlipoth only really wants to build the wall. Fuli only wants to categorize/capture memories. Nous is endlessly curious yet allknowing at the same time. Lan feels nothing but a desire to destroy Yaoshi.

Aha is the exception to this.

long-lived species tend to be less emotional; the closer to immortal a being is, the less they Feel. Immortal beings are 'closer' to the divine, and closer to being a creation/construct/part of the very universe itself. its why many long-lived species tend to stagnate and be... repetitive? stuck in their ways?

Aeons are more like... objects. they are not entirely sentient, but are conscious. they have purposes, roles, etc. that the act on as a part of their Paths. but they are unable to act outside of it. it's like. a lack of free will.

Aha. is the exception.

Aha came into being when sentient creatures came into being. Aha is, technically, one of the 'first' aeons, alongside qlipoth, but Aha was fleeting and unformed at first. The first 'life' wasn't really capable of feeling yet, so Aha wasn't capable of existing yet. Humanity coming into existence is what really 'woke up' aha.

if, theoretically, all beings capable of thought and feeling in the universe were to vanish/die out, Aha would too.

other Aeons were around before Aha was fully formed, though.

no one fully knows about Aha's origins or the contingencies around Aha's existence, not even Aha themself. Qlipoth knows, though.

Aeons are completely unfeeling, except under one condition. When Aha is around, Aeons are capable of feeling emotions, too.

(usually annoyance or rage towards Aha because theyre such an annoying son of a bitch)

the reason other aeons, even Nanook and Oroboros, didn't ever want to destroy Aha is because Aha is the only way they could Feel. also Aha would be extremely difficult to destroy cuz they would just pop back into existence after some time. As long as a single mortal being remains and is capable of emotion, Aha exists.

Most other aeons fucking hate Aha. feeling emotions is strange and horrifying and suddenly being capable of Feeling is way, way too much for them. Some are exceptions to this: Qlipoth, who actually... enjoys Aha's presence for this reason; Lan, who would never admit they like feeling something other than bloodlust for once; and Nous, who is a freak.

In creating Sampo, Aha has technically severed themself into two beings. Aha IS sampo but also isnt.

Technically, Nous had been right in that aha couldnt become human/mortal without renouncing aeonhood and their Path. Its not technically possible for Aha to still be Aha And a human. But aha fucking did it

Aha basically severed themself, cut themself down into a smaller? Human-shaped form, shoved their consciousness into the human form they made, Became Sampo. The remains/clippings of Aha exist at the edge of Nothing.

Technically, aha didnt sever themself from the Elation. Rather they... became sampo, and left behind the remaims of Aha? Like. The majority of Aha is left behind there. Its like Aha cut off their limbs and outer flesh and made a new person out of their internal organs. Nous fucking hates it how dare Aha prove them wrong and find a loophole

Aha, now Sampo, doesnt know what he wants. He wants something desperately, though. He doesnt know what it is but he has always Always just. Wanted.

[powderblueblood]

How about Lacy finding Eddie's writing? 🤭

need you to imagine me listening to a fifth of beethoven from the saturday night fever soundtrack whilst writing this because i became insane and filled it with Clues.............

it's like trying to understand the fucking zodiac killer.

it's all codes and ciphers and scrawls and-- well, she thought she might have been reading that one upside down but it's actually indecipherable any way you twist it.

and it's not like any of it is even written on paper either. torn open cigarette packs, napkins, burger wrappers from the diner. one time a leaf.

because eddie's not like lacy in the way she keeps a journal but eddie's like lacy in that if he's roundhoused with a thought that he needs to remember, he's got to write it down now immediately pronto on any available surface.

which is pretty pointless, since he keeps losing all this garbage and she has to pick it up after him.

she bears over the spread of scraps like an fbi agent, palms braced to the table. there's a thread here, but she can't quite untangle it. she's staring at a pile of shit that says shit like

crabs incident-- bruised like a peach worth biting-- violet like violence??

red tights. tingly. carnelian little carnivore.

track two. treasure.

persephone's hall pass.

seventh grade & as many minutes in limbo. shoulda ripped off band aid.

mage in a mink coat.

well, that last one--

"you dumpster diving now? hard times."

fuck! fuck. told you, rat blood. appearing out of nowhere with no noise no notice to then become the loudest thing in the room. he's like thunderclap, this fucko, like a spontaneous combustion.

he also doesn't even recognize his own handwriting, seems like. she blushes, furious. doesn't know why.

"community service. they have me picking up the trailer trash's trailer trash."

"snitty!" he shoves the bag of chips he's holding at her--an offering, he can't do anything normal around her--and reaches for one of the scraps. lacy watches him like a scientist watching a guinea pig for brain activity-- and his eyes go all wide and panicky. "wait."

"eddie-- hey!" but he's scrambling now, going for all the little pieces of writing she'd been trying to arrange on the table like a pointless puzzle. "don't--"

"where'd you get all this shit, huh?! going through my pockets now, is that it? like a cop?"

"i-- hey, don't you fucking dare-- look, you shed!"

"i shed?"

"you shed. you've got shit falling out of that stupid, enormous nerd binder every goddamn day because you just shove shit in there and don't organize anything, and i wasn't gonna stand around and let you just litter everywhere and--" now it's her turn to be like. wait. crosses her arms, eyes narrow, she's mother superior serving nailed ya bitch. "--why are you all skittish?"

"huh?"

"it's just-- trash, right?" she snatches a burger wrapper out of his grasp. oh this is delish.

"yeah," he grabs, but she's holding it behind her back and god her face is like stupid smirky, "but it's my trash. my--giveit--private... trash."

eddie munson is blushing.

"who's the mage?"

"the fucking.... the what?"

little crinkle as she unfolds a piece torn off a brown paper bag. "mage in a mink coat. who's that?"

"nobody."

"i have a mink coat."

"oh. does that really say mage? 'coz it should say mange." he's such an asshole. she's grinning so wide.

everyone says revenge is a dish best served cold but she bets she could use eddie munson's cheeks as a hotplate and eat right off 'em. it'd taste so much better. lobster bisque. filet mignon. michelin star.

"have you been writing about me, munson?"

his face is all stone-set, mouth all i can't fucking believe this and eyes all i'd cut the brake lines in her van if she wasn't the one scamming rides off me all the time. "li'l miss my life is incomplete without eddie munson wants to talk?"

"called you a neanderthal in the next sentence. don't forget that."

"you're such a beastie."

"carnelian little carnivore, you wrote."

"what makes you so sure it's all about you, huh?"

"context clues."

he glances down. she is, in fact, wearing the aforementioned tingly-feeling-inspiring red tights again today. shit.

"what happened in seventh grade?" she's pointing to the scrap in his hand, one he's managed to keep out of her snatchy little fingers.

she doesn't remember anything significant about seventh grade. but he does, and a knot tightens in his chest and he's about to lie and say something crass about my fist, a stopwatch and a view of you from underneath the bleachers at cheerleading practice-- then final bell rings.

"that is for me to know--"

"--and for me to die ignorant?" she's an active listener.

"precisely, you wench. now get the fuck outta here, i got hellfire."

lacy leaves the scraps.

"i will find out, y'know."

he knows. "you're like a bitch with a bone that way."

"the bitchiest."

[amateurasterism]

Hey do you still take requests? Because i was reading your work and god you are mind-blowing!So I've been thinking about this so long and i couldn't find much on this topic so i thought that maybe Junhui/Jeonghan as dad??!! No cuz seriously that will be soo damn cute! And again your work is amazing!

omg tysm you’re so sweet!! i lovee this request. sorry for the delay ap exams are a pain lmfao

dad headcanons —y.jh + w.jh

yoon jeonghan.

— not a single doubt this man is a girl dad. have you seen him

— his daughter is a carbon copy of him too. together they’re…a nightmare, to say the least

— you are foolish to think you’re safe from yoon jeonghan’s infamous shenanigans after giving birth to his child. in fact, you start to think they’ve escalated now that jeonghan has acquired his best partner in crime

— this tiktok absolutely happened

“oh no.”

after being married to him, you already know it’s bad when jeonghan opens the door with that certain cheeky smile. he’s wearing it now as he greets you home from work, so you ignore his words and brace yourself as you scan the house of which room happened to be the victim this time.

you realize upon seeing your daughter drenched in flour that it was the poor kitchen. the counters and cabinets now a white snowy wonderland, freckled with the all-too familiar shape of your husband and daughter’s hands.

you can’t find anything to say, watching deadpanned as your husband smiles and picks up your daughter, who is smiling at you with the same smile as her dad. she waves her flour-covered hands to try to get you closer.

“yoon jeonghan.”

“our daughter is so clumsy, i wonder what happened,” he jokes, walking towards you to fulfill your daughter’s wishes of smothering you in a hug.

you try to back off before the flour can reach you, but suddenly jeonghan’s hand is twining around your waist and pulling you to his side. in the same moment, your daughter traps you and jeonghan in a hug, drenching you all in flour.

you open your mouth to scold them both, but the words melt and reform as hearty laughter. how could you not, when jeonghan kisses the flour off the tip of your nose and your daughter is bubbling with giggles?

— the type of dad to make tell you not to be worried when your daughter goes to school for the first time but you see damn well how he’s holding in tears as he sits on the couch, eyes focused on the painfully lonely toys on the living room rug and the irking silence of the house. all he can think about is how incomplete he feels without his daughter, his ray of light, beside him

— never outwardly mentions it but he has every trait your daughter inherited from you memorized

“babe, i can’t find our daughter. there are so many kids!”

your husband spares you a quick glance in which you catch that all-knowing smirk plastered on his lips. “she’s right there.” he waves to a girl in the sea of children, and sure enough your daughter comes running into his arms.

“how did you see her so easily?”

“easy. she has the same mole on her temple and tilts her head when she’s lost, like you.”

— sometimes too lazy to get up from bed so on weekends you’ll find him and your baby still passed out in bed in the middle of the day. jeonghan’s limbs are scrambled in the sheets in outrageous angles, your daughter is sprawled similarly over his stomach, pacifier abandoned and allowing drool to touch jeonghan’s shirt. the window allows their bodies to bask in pure sunlight, matching the innocent smiles on their slumbering faces, their identical snores synced and echoing through the house.

— the moment your daughter made her first sound, jeonghan was all over her spamming the word “daddy.” made it a competition between you and him on if she would say “mommy” or “daddy” first and betted on the loser having to pay for a fancy dinner date even though he ended up paying regardless of the winner because he’s a simp duh. he was so determined to win to the point you were wishing she would say “daddy” already before you would go insane you swear the word was even echoing in your sleep

“da-ddy. da-ddy.” jeonghan repeats to your daughter, only to be met with her clueless stare, not a single thought behind those widened eyes.

“like me. da-ddy.”

“da…” your daughter trails off, more focused on her toys than her father’s antics.

“yes! da-ddy.”

“love, please shut up,” you mutter from the couch irritatedly. at first it was cute, but you’re starting to go crazy after hearing it for an hour straight.

“i’m about to make her say daddy!”

you roll your eyes in annoyance, though your lips betray you with the way they turn upwards in a smile at the sight of your husband sat cross-legged beside your toddler, staring at her with the most loving look as they play.

“daddy!” your daughter exclaims suddenly.

jeonghan cheers and tosses her in his arms, holding her high up and peppering kisses on her face. “yes!” he turns to your smiling face, “i win!”

but with the look on jeonghan’s face, you can’t find yourself to be mad about the bet at all.

“say it again!”

— feeds her a bit of junk food when you can’t see

— secretly overprotective. on the outside, he’s a pretty laid back dad but the moment he senses something off with his daughter, it’s over

— the type of dad to say “no boyfriends until you’re 20” HAHAH but doesn’t really mean it

— overall such a playful, laid back, caring dad who causes more mischief with his child than you signed up for. but really, you couldn’t ask for anything more

wen junhui.

— boy dad. case closed

— no bc he’d be such a sweet dad are you kidding

— i feel like he’d try making homemade baby-food when he doesn’t have any thing else to do

what is that smell? is the first thing you think when opening the door of your house after work.

your nose leads you straight to the kitchen, and low and behold is jun, surrounded by various chopped vegetables and stirring a small boiling pot.

“what’s this new recipe?” you ask, sliding your arms through his and leaning your head into the crook of his neck.

“oh! hi, love! you scared me,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head and pausing his stirring for a moment to rub your arms. “it’s homemade baby food. i thought i’d try it for fun.”

you smile into his skin and press a few chaste kisses there. “i remember you cooking a meal for me the first time i came over. it was one you made yourself and you were really proud of it so i never told you i thought it was too spicy.”

jun’s ears flush red. “stop trying to make me feel bad by reminding me!”

you laugh tenderly and kiss his lips. “would never. you know i love your cooking, and i’m sure our son will too.”

— really good at keeping a happy expression on for your son but inside is a whole other story. inside, he’s flooding with tears because his son is already walking through the gates of preschool when he swears just the other day he was glued to you and your son on the living room couch mere days after coming home from the hospital

— he’s always gotten you “just because” flowers so now what you have a son, he’ll come home from father-son days with a bouquet they both picked out

— always up to do whatever his son wants to do no matter what. finger painting? the paint is ready to go

— lovesss playing/teaching his son old games from his childhood. sometimes you’ll come home to see them in the backyard, running back and forth in a game of red light green light, jun’s favorite

“i’m home!” you shout upon opening the front door, expecting you son to come running into your arms with jun wrapping you all in a family hug as usual, but no response.

you presumed they were playing a hide-and-seek game with you, yet even after searching the whole house, they’re still missing. odd.

the one last place you haven’t checked if the backyard. sure enough, there is your husband, eyes shut and faded away from your son who is currently frozen in mid-run.

“red light!” jun turns around, expecting to catch his son moving, but instead is met by your face inches from his. “welcome home, love—”

interrupting, you kiss his lips which are parted from surprise. when you pull away, jun finds himself a bit carried away from the game, only remembering when your son pulls his attention back from the taste of your mixed berry chapstick.

“ewwww!! mommy and daddy are kissing!” the child yells in disgust, running away and forgetting his role of staying still in the game.

jun presses another slow kiss to your lips before chasing his son into a tackle on the living room carpet. “hey! come back! you moved while i turned around, you lost!”

— there’s a painting of the first park you went to as a family in the living room that jun painted with the help of your son (meaning it has a couple smears from his tiny fingers trying to help his dad out)

— often you’ll wake up in the morning without jun’s body beside yours, only to find him knocked out, cuddled beside your son in his bed with an abandoned book he’d been reading to him last night

— you know those random games toddlers have downloaded on their ipads? yeah, jun is addicted to those

“dinner’s ready!”

“we’ll be there!” jun replies from the living room, followed by the sounds of frantic tapping on a screen.

“daddy, you suck at this game!” his son laughs heartily, watching him struggle to beat the current level of this game.

jun ignores the rude comment and watches as his character falls again. his son grabs the ipad and finishes it with ease only to look back up at his gaping dad.

“how did you do that so easily?! you’re only four!” jun teases, attacking his son in tickles. just before he can reach his most ticklish spot, your voice is heard from the kitchen.

“i said dinner was ready five minutes ago! the food is cold!”

“coming!”

— tries to help your son with homework but is struggling just as bad. you’ve scolded them multiple times for finding disregarded math papers on the dining table and them watching tv on the couch

— he is constantly carrying her. everywhere. especially piggy-back rides, those are their favorite

— overall the sweetest dad ever, does everything he can to be the best dad and the work shows. junhui best man ever

[russenoire]

7, 14 for the ask game :) 🌻

from this MP100 ask game! :}

7: what’s the most hilarious moment to you?

[note: i'm terrible at picking 'one favorite thing' as a general rule, and have too many Most Hilarious Moments to count (anime and manga). so i'm just gonna list random ones that kill me if more ppl ask me this question.]

and i called it! i will answer question 7 as many times as people ask; i simply adore this story's flavor of dry humor.

anime: in s1e8 during ritsu's attempt to pick a fight with shigeo, shigeo sincerely congratulates ritsu on finally obtaining ESP after his younger brother attacks him with it. he then launches into embarrassing parent mode and starts describing, for anyone within earshot, how ritsu used to bawl his eyes out when they were younger because he couldn't bend spoons. ritsu doesn't deny this; he just says, 'that hadn't changed up until recently.'

manga: the meat omake. OMFG. i can't decide what's funniest about it: shigeo's absolutely based refusal to clarify an awkward misunderstanding, or teru's emptying reigen's wallet and hanging it out to dry.

14: are there any MP100 fanfics you HAVE to rec?

my tastes lean towards deep character study and the whump side of angst, so take that as you will. most of these are ongoing/incomplete. in no particular order:

kegare (can be translated as 'spiritual defilement' in japanese) by zillasafe. an organization looking to solve the global energy crisis kidnaps shigeo after the confession arc for their aims. skilled scrambling of narrative chronology and use of an unreliable narrator, visceral depictions of the effects of long-term sensory deprivation. [mature, graphic violence, 95K words]

a breach of trust by phantomrose96. what if mogami'd sunk his claws into shigeo early... and he and teru never crossed paths? preternaturally naturalistic dialogue, willingness to challenge fanon interpretations of canon characters, thoughtful examinations of how trauma can warp the psyche into violence, OCs that give me life. it's a serious long-read. [teen+, graphic violence, 384.6K words]

the brassica heresy by scribefindegil. captures the unnerving atmosphere of the psycho helmet arc perfectly. what if psycho helmet got his wish? and why doesn't anyone remember shigeo? a mystery from tsubomi's perspective, and she's fascinating. [teen+, creator chose not to warn, 27.5K words]

a murder of crows and a kaleidoscope of butterflies by redberrysoda. slowly sketches out a seductive world of palace intrigue and burgeoning trust/love between the princes of two kingdoms. shoumob. i'm not much of a shipper, but i found myself wanting more of this pair in this world. [teen+, 23K words]

blackhole by dmyy20. river-of-consciousness internal monologue that ripped me apart in all the best of ways. what if dimple hadn't been there to talk shigeo down after he saw his family in the fire? [teen+, graphic violence, 2.1K words]

childlike wonder, in the palm of our hands by nanayon. high school slice-of-life in which shigeo stretches his wings tests the limits of his ESP, with ritsu's help. exploration of dissociative identity disorder/system dynamics, lovely sibling bonding, shigeo learning to enjoy his powers for once, dammit. [gen rated, 11.6K words]

can i recommend one of mine? i'm proudest of this one... a friend described it as melancholic fluff: kain no shirushi (the mark of cain). it's a slice-of-life story where thirty-something shigeo's quiet intensity and his powers end up intimidating others unintentionally... and then later on purpose. from my summary on AO3: 'Inspired by that scene in canon where high-school boys attempt to bully young Shigeo and he ends up saving them from his posse. There, he isn't yet sure how to defend himself without causing others physical harm. Here, he's managed to figure something out…' [teen+, 2.9k words]

[astrabear]

My labor, and my leisure too (pt. 1)

I've been poking around some ideas lately, about the difference between what feels like a happy (or at least satisfying) ending to a character and what feels like a happy (or at least satisfying) ending to the audience.

This is unedited, un-beta'd, and incomplete. I've already started working on the next bit; I just didn't want to wait to yeet it out into the universe.

********

If Nile hadn’t been frustrated nearly to tears by the time the rest of the team came in, she might have noticed that Nicky and Joe seemed oddly subdued and distracted. But she was, so she didn’t – all she could see was the endless array of charts and computer displays swimming before her eyes.

“I have run so many simulations I feel like I’m stuck in a time loop,” she said as they all gathered around the output table. “I’ve recalculated all the parameters to the limits of possibility, sometimes beyond. And I can’t find any way we pull this off.”

“But the intel we just got – “ Gert was new, had been with them for less than twenty years, and hadn’t quite let go of the idea of being a superhero.

“That intel is what makes it so hard.” Gert frowned, and Nile quickly added, “Don’t get me wrong, it’s fantastic you were able to track it down. If you hadn’t, we’d be totally screwed.”

“So what’s the problem?” Lijie asked. She ran her finger along one of the infiltration routes in the display. “This looks straightforward to me.”

“The problem,” Nile said, “is the timing. Whoever lays those charges, they’re not getting out. Any delay long enough for exfil is long enough for them to be detected and disarmed by the security system.”

“But we’re shutting down the security system. I walked you through that just the other day. I’m telling you, it’s foolproof.” Jerrah, over 1600 years old, hated that Nile still referred to him as one of “the kids,” but his temper and defensiveness had not mellowed with age and at times like this she felt entirely justified.

She heroically resisted banging her head against the table. It would only scramble the schematics. “Your plan for shutting the system down is foolproof. It’s great. It will absolutely work. But what we didn’t know until recently is that it’s on an automatic reset timer that will boot it back up after a set amount of time. You’re welcome to review the programming,” she ran her gaze around the team, addressing them all, “in fact I’d love it if you’d all review the scenarios I’ve run. Just to be sure. But I’m telling you – the numbers just don’t work. The support team will be fine, but the one with the charges is not getting out alive.”

Gert laughed. “I thought that was the point of us. We don’t have to get out alive.” They looked around and noticed no one else shared their amusement. “What am I missing?”

Jerrah answered while scrolling through Nile’s calculations. “An explosion this size isn’t just going to take out the complex, it’s going to wipe out the whole atmo dome. Anything not secured will get blasted out of the gravity well. You remember about Quỳnh? This would be infinitely worse. Literally.”

“But what about – “

Step by step, Nile walked them through it. How any equipment robust enough to survive the explosion would make it impossible to complete the mission to cause the explosion in the first place. How fast the debris and bodies would be moving with no inertia to slow them down. The number of bodies there would be, and the limits of their ship’s sensors. All of it. The inescapable physics, and the impossibility of making that choice.

“We have to scrap the plan,” she said, “start over from scratch. We’ll find another way, somehow, to – “ Joe and Nicky had withdrawn a bit from the group and were having their own private conversation. This, too, should have been a sign: they didn’t do cross-talk during mission briefings, and through all the months of planning they’d taken this mission particularly seriously.

But Nile was too frazzled and distracted for this to register, so she just barked out, “Hey guys! Are we boring you? Or do you have something you’d like to share?”

Her friends, mentors, brothers, exchanged a final loaded glance and then refocused on the group. Nicky put his arm around Joe’s shoulders, and as he did so his sleeve rode up, just a little, showing an odd patch of dirt on the inside of his upper arm. She found herself staring at it without knowing why.

“Joe and I will lay the charges,” Nicky said.

“Don’t be stupid,” Lijie snapped. “Nile’s right. Do you really think we’re going to just let you guys float around in vacuum forever?”

Three things happened simultaneously in an instant that felt to Nile like a lifetime:

…Nile noticed that the knuckles on Joe’s right hand were also weirdly dirty.

…and Joe said, “Of course not. We’re not asking you to.”

…and Nile thought Bruises. Not dirt. Bruises.

Then time slammed back into place and she cried out from the force of it.

And the room erupted into chaos.

[askthechronoverse]

Last Chapter •||• Next Chapter

There was barely a building at this point. The sign with the cat had fallen apart and rusted away completely and there were moss framed holes in the wall and building. Kit tried the door and saw that it was locked. She scrambled to look through the trash around her and her bag for paperclips. While she looked for the paperclips, her mind wandered to her father.

“Catherine, I think it's time I teach you something that I never thought I'd have to teach you.” There was a frantic note in his monotone as patted his jacket down for something. He and Kit were in front of the castle, late at night. “I can't believe I left my key at home, but there's no cause for worrying I suppose.” He turned to his daughter and shrugged, pulling two paperclips out of his pocket. “Always carry some paperclips with you. You can do so many things with a paperclip.” 

“I thought they just held paper.” Kit spoke from the bushes around the front door for a spare key.

“You can do so much more than that with a paperclip. Come over here. I'll show you.” Kit floated over to her father and watched him bend a paperclip out of shape. “Do not tell your father about this. I will never live it down.” He held two paperclips out. They were bent in strange ways. “You can pick locks with paperclips. Come closer. I’ll show you how.”

Kit had by this point found the paperclips she needed. In her mind's eye, she followed her father's careful instructions on bending the clips into shape and inserting the clips in the right way. She turned one of the paperclips in the lock. It felt like it took forever, but with some experimentation, the lock groaned in defiance as it eventually yielded to her will. It fell to the floor without another word of dissent.

Kit cautiously opened the door, her heart dropping. The remnants of the portal were scattered all over the floor, but it was clear it was completely destroyed. She grabbed a few pieces and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and searched her mind for some kind of answer.

“You need to clear your mind, Kitten.” RJ sat on the ground as a far younger Kit picked up some pieces in their front yard. “Part of Master Building is letting the Man Upstairs take the wheel.”

“Why are we doing this? Wasn't Aunt Lucy supposed to teach me?” Kit put the pieces together, but there was no thought behind it.

“Your aunt wants the Assembly to teach ya. That's great an’ all, but I wanna teach ya the basics. Maybe if ya can Master Build, ya can Master Break, too.” RJ smiled softly. “Let's try clearin’ your mind a bit.” He patted the ground next to him and she took a seat. “Close your eyes and breathe in real deep.” Kit did this, both in her memories and in the present. “Good. Hold it there for a little bit.” She did as her dad asked. “Breathe everything out now.” Both versions of Kit did this, almost in sync. “That's my girl! Do that a few more times until all your thoughts fade away.” As her father spoke, his voice echoed and faded until there was nothing in her mind.

She opened her eyes and looked around. The pieces around her jumped out at her in a sharp translucency. The instructions came to her mind like a bolt out of the blue. She moved quickly, unsure at first but it ramped up to something more automatic. The pieces seemed to fall into place, the clicking rhythmic as she built. After what felt like eternities, the portal was almost built. She stepped back to admire her work, but frowned when she saw what was missing: a single one by three brick. 

“Catherine, we don't have much time. Did you fi-!” Richard floated into the room and looked at the incomplete portal. “What is that?”

“It's a portal. But I'm missing a piece.” She pointed to the hole as she dug through her bag for a brick, frowning as she was turning up empty.

“I think I might be able to help with that.” He floated into the spot. As he did, the portal hummed into life. “I recommend going through as soon as possible. Hazard went to get reinforcements.”

“Bye. I'll give Papa a hug for you when I see him next.” She went through the portal, falling through a tunnel of light and color. 

She eventually found herself at the base of a larger portal in a room of rock and crystal. The room itself was cavernous and spiraled cracks glowed with a strange green light. If she wasn't so scared, it would be an impressive sight. Kit looked around for any sign of life until she was face to face with a familiar robot.

“X-PO?” Kit scrambled to her feet. The robot scanned her.

“You don't appear to be a threat. I don't think a tired dad would put a temporal lock on a threat. I'd ask who you are, but your headband took care of that. I'm X-PO. Stands for “eXperimental Portal Operator”. How did you get into Vorton? How did you know about Vorton?” 

“I… I messed up. I just want my dad back.” Kit played with her headband.

“Kid. I have no clue what you're talking about, but maybe you can help me and my buddy out.” He moved to reveal Ken, who waved from his perch on a step. 

“Ken! Hi!” She rushed up to the blonde man and hugged him. He hugged her back, but mouthed to X-PO, asking who Kit actually was. She pulled away and turned to X-PO.

“So my friend here means that a few worlds are somehow safe from the changes that were probably made, though they might be repeating events in their history. I ran a few scans and found one more foundation element.” X-PO flew around Kit, sizing her up. “I think we can use that to hijack control of the baseplate from the guy who has it.” X-PO bobbed as Ken brooded in the corner.

“I just wanna get back to Barbieland. Or the Real World. Or a horse ranch.” Ken seemed so down. Kit nodded slowly, unsure of what she was thinking.

“When all this is said and done, I'll take you wherever you need to go. Where do I need to go?” Kit asked as she held the skate close to her chest.

“I can set our portal to take you to this new world. Once you get the foundation element, I can send you to Foundation Prime. From there, you just need to find the baseplate and add the element. After that, you should get control to do what you want.” X-PO floated right into Kit’s face. “Just don't take advantage and make things worse.”

“I just want my dad back… and my friends.” Kit looked down at her phone. “I'm not going to do anything more to make that not happen.”

“You're fun at parties, huh?” X-PO stated sarcastically. “Alright, kid. Let me adjust the portal to the right frequency.” After a sequence of beeps that reminded Kit of an old song her dad once showed her, the portal hummed to life. “Good luck, kid. Next time I see you, let's hope it's in a better multiverse.” Cautiously, Kit stepped into the portal and back into the tunnel of light.

She found herself on a street corner. She shivered as her breath visibly escaped her lips. The world around her was full of white snow and twinkling lights that reminded her of the winter holidays of her home. When people passed her, she saw that no one floated like she did. She held her breath and willed her feet to the ground. She pulled her phone out and, before she could do anything further, felt a body crash into her.  It was a boy, no older than eight, in a red scarf and far better dressed for the weather. He continued to bolt down the road, followed by a blue grey van that proclaimed that it was with Oh-Kay Plumbing and Heating. Kit barely caught the look on the boy's face, but a van chasing a kid looked suspicious.

She followed at a decent distance and watched the kid lose him in an outdoor display before he headed in her direction. As he passed, she stopped him with a tap on his shoulder. He gasped as he turned to face her. He said nothing before he ran off again. Kit frowned. Was that kid OK? She shook her head. Her heart was screaming for her to find the boy, but… no. She had to focus and find the foundation element. Right? She took a breath and walked in the direction the boy had run to. No. The kid may have been in danger. She ran down the block and stopped. Wait. She looked at all the well decorated homes and… couldn't guess where he went. Maybe he was safe at home with his family now? She couldn't tell. At the thought of family, her heart hurt. What if she couldn't find the foundation element? How would she know what she had was the element? She shoved her frigid hands in her pockets as she walked slowly in the opposite direction the boy had run. 

 

Houses started to yield to other buildings. She stopped at the building where the boy had hidden and gave the hiding spot a good look. People in robes and animals stood around an empty trough, the ground coated with hay. The scene confused her. As she studied the scene, a woman's voice cut through her concentration. 

“You look cold, my child. Do you not have a coat?” Kit whipped around and saw that the speaker wore all black save for a white band on her head. Kit shook her head and the woman held out a hand to tell her to stay where she was. She ran into a large building that looked like a strange white castle, soon returning with a jacket, a steaming cup, and a donut. The woman gave her the three items and gestured to the building she came from. “You can wait in the cathedral while I contact your parents, if you want.” Kit shook her head.

“No, that's OK.” She put the jacket on and was shocked it fit her. “I'm looking for something. Something special and old. It's for a history class.”

“I see.” The woman thought for a moment. “You picked a good city for that kind of search. There are building and homes that have been here since the 1800's. You can even start your search in this church.” She calmly gestured to the church. “Is there something specific you are looking for? Old and special doesn't narrow things down.” 

“I… really don't know. It's something I just know when I see it.” Kit shrugged. “I don't think it's in there.”

“Well, I will be here if you need help, child. Make sure you check in with your parents, too.” The woman waved to Kit's retreating back as she began to wander the town. 

The woman in black was right. The city, which she found out from a sign was called Winnetka, was old. She combed the town as best she could, but nothing felt to her like the Legend Plate had. By the time she found herself back at the start, the sun had set a while ago and the air had gotten colder. She looked into an older looking house on the street and saw a family eating dinner together from through the window. She imagined herself and her parents in the family's place and felt hot tears make warm tracks down her frozen face. The parents in her imagination were happily making dinner while she constantly got underfoot. Her father laughed while stirring a pot as her dad picked her up and held her close. 

“Dad…” Kit whispered as she put a hand to the glass. “I want my Dad…” 

She was snapped out of her imagination when she heard the sound of screaming tires. When she turned, she saw an old looking Dodge Omni across the street and three houses over. With a closer approach, she saw a sign that proclaimed it was a pizza delivery car for Little Nero’s Pizza. Her stomach growled forcefully. Maybe she could grab something to eat from there? She dug in her pockets and bag and found several gold coins with Unikitty’s face on it. Would they take Unikingdom Lolly? She didn't have much time to think before the driver, a teenager in white, ran from the back of the house he was parked in front of and drove off like his life was in danger. 

She chose to follow the driver back to the pizza restaurant. It was harder to follow the speeding car, but knowing the name of the place helped. The smell of pizza was intoxicating, especially considering she barely knew how long it had been since she had eaten. Kit walked through the door, which announced her presence with the ring of a bell. She could hear a teenager frantically talking to someone in the back of the kitchen.

“I'm telling you! I almost died out there! I need a break or something!” He turned to see that Kit was waiting at the counter now. “Hey… Kid? You looking to place an order?”

“Yeah. Can I have a sausage and mushroom pizza?” She slid two of her coins on the counter and held out a can of Pepsi. He walked over to the counter, looked at the coins and turned them around in his hand.

“Uh… We only take real money. That’ll be $12.” He waited for Kit to hand him the money, the look on his face held a strong desire to clock out early.

“Those are real. It's gold.” She pushed the coins back and frowned, worried. “It's all I have.”

“I can't take foreign currency.” He sighed at Kit's disappointed look. “Look. I don't… I just can't. I can't give you anything without US currency. Sorry.” She turned and left the restaurant, the smirk of the mascot seemingly taunting her. She snuck to the driver's car and found the back door to be open. After a quick search, Kit found a stray bag of breadsticks. She kicked the door closed and rushed off, the kid at the counter unaware.

She went back to the house and watched the family watch a cartoon movie on TV in their tastefully decorated living room. The breadsticks were cold and hard, but the seasoning on them combined with the cheese on top was enough to satisfy her tastebuds. While she ate, she again imagined herself with her parents and let herself cry.

[spidey-bie]

@mistressoftheelderitchwhorehouse

This is the only correct opinion about Miles G. that I'll be accepting as to what led him to become the Prowler. Obviously he's doing it for his community and his mama.

I wonder if he does it in memory of his father? I wonder whose idea it was in the first place? I wonder how he'd react if he knew he was supposed to be bit by a spider? Like I have so many thoughts here but they're all so scrambled and incomplete that I don't know how to word them just yet.

[thesunwontcomeout]

They have invented an x-ray for your brain that tells you what’s wrong with you. 

Your mother explains this excitedly to you over the phone as you eat your breakfast. She sends you a blurry photo of the newspaper ad that lays it all out. No more confusing questionnaires, no more uncertain diagnostic criteria, no more invasive questions from doctors and therapists and friends. Simply ask your doctor for the x-ray for your brain that tells you what’s wrong with you, and get all the answers to all the questions you’re too afraid to ask. It promises instant relief, eternal satisfaction, and, of course, optimum privacy.

Isn’t this great? your mother asks. Don’t you think you should get one? 

Your best friend offhandedly mentions the x-ray for your brain that tells you what’s wrong with you at coffee that afternoon. You ask her what she’s heard about it and she avoids your eyes. I don’t know, I’ve heard it’s great for a lot of people, she says to the corner. It seems to help lots of people with lots of different...issues. It’s not perfect, though! she adds, scrambling to cover her tracks. It’s expensive and the waitlists are endless and who knows if your doctor will even agree that you need one and give you a referral. Not you, you, just. You know what I mean. The hypothetical you. 

You nod and sip your coffee. You hypothetically know what she means.

As you brush your teeth before bed, your husband asks you directly if you want the x-ray for your brain that tells you what’s wrong with you. He isn’t one to beat around the bush. You love him for that, most of the time. Tonight, you hate him for it, just a little bit. You aren’t looking at him, but you can hear the smile in his voice as he suggests talking to someone about getting one.

You don’t know if you want it. It’s expensive, you hear, and apparently the waitlists are endless. And who even knows if your doctor will agree that you need one? 

Your husband snorts. You slam the bathroom door shut. 

His name is Devonte Jefferson. As you study his picture on your phone, you’re struck by how much he looks like your nephew. You skim the article. Police called by bystander witnessing erratic behavior...exacerbated by his presence on a list composed of individuals who...many incarcerated, first to have died due to...You can’t stand it any longer. You close the New York Times app and open Instagram, and there he is again. Every post, every story, it seems, is talking about Devonte Jefferson. He loved college football. He was saving up for a new car. He had three sisters and cared for the youngest like a father. His girlfriend suggested he take the x-ray for your brain that tells you what’s wrong with you to better understand his mental health. She never imagined this would happen. 

You look up his Instagram and scroll through his posts. You purse your lips as you read about his life, his achievements, his plans. He planned to get an MBA. He wanted to get rich and buy his mom a house. He was a few months short of graduating from undergrad at Penn State with honors. You make a mental note to call your sister soon.

You exit his page and open a friend’s story. Again, you see his photo, smiling with his girlfriend, but this time with an Add Yours sticker with some vague political statement. You consider adding it to your story. You drop your phone on your chest and stare at the ceiling. Why bother? What’s the point? 

Those words have echoed in your mind for years. Since you were a child, you’ve been asking, begging, imploring, pleading for someone to explain it to you, but no one has. You get incomplete, bullshit answers, as if no one took the question seriously. No one took your searching or asking or caring about anything seriously, so you stopped. This seemed in keeping with the interests of those around you but it doesn’t stop them from leaving you in the dirt. You’ve been left behind time and time again, whether it was your parents or your teachers or the friends you thought you had, gained and lost over years of uncertainty. You’ve grown accustomed to people leaving you. The loss of friends that walk out of your life, never again to return, doesn't hurt any more. Abandonment is no longer intimidating. Disappointment is no longer terrifying. You’re good at it. In fact, you don’t know which you’re better at, being disappointed or disappointing others. Disappointing your mother with every college rejection letter. Disappointing your friends with every canceled plan. Disappointing your husband one morning every month as you walk out of the bathroom and shake your head. He can’t hide his disappointment. He thinks he can hide that his disappointment is in you, but you can tell. You excel at sensing disappointment, whether it’s real or residual, radiating off of your disappointment in yourself. At least, you think you’re disappointed in yourself. Your emotions have started to blend together. Your emotional state is a gray, hazy cloud you struggle to discern. You can’t see into it, but you can see through it. And so, the work gets done (poorly), the dishes get washed (sometimes), and the husband is happy (rarely). Why, then, would anything be wrong? 

The x-ray for your brain that tells you what’s wrong with you clinics in the area will all be closed for the next few days. The protesters are getting aggressive. They’ve shifted from holding signs and chanting to screaming, throwing rocks, some even setting fires. Police have been dispatched to quell the riots, but they’re overwhelmed by numbers and fervor, the article said. You sip your coffee and breathe in, appreciating the smell of eggs and bacon coming from your husband in the kitchen. The sky is clear and blue for the first time since February and your dog dozes peacefully on the sofa. Three rioters have been killed by police across the city. There’s an interview with the team that developed the x-ray for your brain that tells you what’s wrong with you. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you read. Of course they just wanted to help people. Of course they didn’t foresee it being used this way. Of course they all took the x-ray, and of course there’s nothing wrong with them. You stare into their pale, smiling faces and wonder if anyone who looks like you has ever invented anything. 

Honey. Your husband is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, sheet of paper in hand. I’m sorry. I made the appointment for you. I have to know. 

Your obituary is flattering. Well, most of it. The first part about you being a dear friend, hard worker, and devoted wife is nice enough. They don’t write anything about what you do on the weekends or what you studied in school or what kind of books you read or anything like that. But the people who go to your local dog park note how passionately you loved your labradoodle. They’re sure to note how matronly you were, emphasizing how much of a matriarchal figure you were to your team at work, despite tragically having no children. 

Published with your obituary are your results. The headline doesn’t specify what kind of results because it doesn’t need to. There’s only one set of results that people care about now. What else would the local newspaper readers need to know about you? Who knows if they even read the bit about your dog or your team or how the ballistic markings matched the shotgun your husband keeps on the wall or how no one could tell if it was murder or suicide. The unspoken question, the eternal curiosity that looms over every obituary, every young man acting strange in public, every childless wife, now could be answered, thanks to the x-ray for your brain that tells you what’s wrong with you.

[dyrewrites]

Before Deluca -- new crew, new trick

When I caught up, Lucient was surrounded by screaming pirates—none of whom had bothered to stand, choosing instead to scuttle backward toward the forecastle. They gaped at him, likely at those shining eyes, with many making holy signs across chests and faces.

“How are we to speak to them, my love?” I asked Lucient, leaning ever-so to whisper it into his ear—delighting in how he tilted his head toward me and sighed.

Cold eyes snapped towards me after, the quirk of his smile carrying no mirth despite the sweetness in his tone, “Bête. And thoughts need no language, treasure, nor does the trick you keep describing our charm as.”

“Ours, you say, sogno mio, but I’ve not done it,” I reminded, rushing to grab one of the pirates as he made for the railing. Throwing him back among his fellows as easily as one might a sack of flour—or roll of silk—startled the others into grouping.

But, more importantly, it silenced their screams.

Lucient’s smile when I returned was bitten and hungry, the heat in his eyes seeping into his words, “Let’s remedy that, shall we? Try on him,” Pointing at the pirate I tossed, he took my arm in his and sighed as I pressed closer.

While I understood what he was telling me to do, there was some instruction missing and looking from pirate to Lucient, I said so, “Try how?”

“Think of what you want him to do,” he turned to me as he spoke, keeping that arm tight around mine, and teased my beard, almost cooing as he continued, “you must want it, treasure, and when you tell him, you must mean it.”

“And he’ll know, whether he understands me or not?” It seemed ludicrous, but I had seen Lucient do it enough times to trust he knew of what he spoke.

My doubt amused him and the pirates scrambled closer together at the sound of his laughter. Still he kept to me, never loosening his grip, “Trust me, mon amour...just want it and he’ll obey.”

Worry spiked with his last words, of how often he instructed me, how often I obeyed...but those were choices, weren’t they? His smile curled as I fretted, my thoughts ever open to him, and I sighed, repeating, “Want it, mean it, and that is all?”

He nodded, released my arm and stepped back, biting any words that may have wished to slither from those supple lips.

Lips I tried not to think of as I approached the target of my test. Something simple would be best to begin with, I assumed, and so I tried for simple. I wanted him to stand, just stand. Lucient said nothing of eye contact, but I kept it anyway, focusing through the dwindling light on the soft browns so wide and frightened before me.

“Stand up,” I commanded, firm, direct, simple—yet it echoed, my voice, grim that sound as though there were too many of me, and all of them numb with rage.

And he immediately stood, shivering, eyes wild and jittery but he stood.

“Bon travail, mon trésor,” Lucient told my ear, so close the whisper of his cooling breath tickled my neck. “Now do it again.”

Those yet on the deck, cowering together, kept their eyes on us but were not speaking—not shouting—and making no move to flee. A terrified jumble their thoughts, images without words radiating from them, yet easy to ignore if I focused on anything else. So I did, on the pirate beside the one I’d made stand. I wanted him to stand, keeping it simple.

“You,” I pointed at him, unable to help the smile as he jumped, and then—preparing for the echo—I pointed to the space beside his crew-mate, “stand here.”

The man shot up, shaking, and took the two ragged steps required to stand beside the other. Neither looked at one another, neither moved from their spots, they stood shivering and uneasy but they stood.

Lucient teased my ear with a tongue too cool, too sweet, “Look at my beautiful treasure, a natural.” Turning to steal that too sweet tongue, I was blocked by a slender hand. “Non, your lesson is incomplete.”

Tone firm, and low, I spoke to his lips—refusing to look at the heat in his eyes, “Then you need to stop your teasing.”

“Never,” he teased, licking my nose before turning away from me—taking that cool arm with him—to address the other pirates, “Stand, all of you.”

I had not witnessed his voice used on more than one and watching all four of the remaining men stand and line up beside the two I’d charmed...thrilled me. There were worries mixed in, of course, and a tinge of genuine fear with how eerily he echoed, but more it excited. The power of it, the control, and he smiled at me as my want of him sang too loudly in my swoon—slight as it was.

“I,” I didn’t finish the sentence, didn’t finish the thought, before he was on me again.

Teasing the hair on my cheeks, caressing the bare skin above it, his delight in mine spilled free from his lips, “Did you enjoy that, treasure?” I nodded, too confused, frightened, aroused—all at once, perhaps—to speak and so he continued, “Practice and you can do the same...more even. But we’re not finished,” peeling away from me, he turned to the men, his voice carrying a quieter echo, “Do you see the corpses on this deck?” As one, the men—including those I’d charmed—looked around and nodded, returning their gaze to Lucient as he commanded them, “Dispose of them. Return to this spot when finished.”

They moved immediately and did as instructed, picking up the burnt remains of the last crew without a single hitch in step or stiffness in their gait—moving as smoothly as any man going about his business. Even as four of them worked to move the remains of the Hunter, they did so with unimpeded motion. Fear welled in their eyes, jittering with the lack of control in their limbs, but it showed only there.

And my own returned, prickling my too-hot skin.

Lucient draped his arms around my neck, meeting the dark fear in my eyes with the bright pride in his, “Mm, do I frighten you, treasure?”

He did, and he knew he did, but so close—so cool against me—it no longer felt as fear. Still I gave him what he wanted, “Yes, sogno mio, you terrify me.”

“Good,” he said, kissing me too quickly before sighing and looking up at the bruise of sky above the dropped sails. With his head held so high, it was too tempting not to kiss the neck he exposed. And he swooned at my touch, giggling with my playful rub of beard on his skin. “You certainly aren’t behaving like a terrified man,” he told the smile I couldn’t wipe away.

“Oh, but I am,” I told him—truthful it was, if muddied by his closeness—and lifting him to rest on my hips, savoring that sweet yelp, I added, “I am in absolute awe of you, mon amour.”

The moon shining full, bright and silvery-blue above us could not compete with the eyes he offered me. So wide they flashed before hungry lips stole mine and that soft, cool tongue teased my own.

You are a beast, his thoughts scolded even as he shoved harder against me, gripping my face in his hands, speaking so sweetly after what you’ve done.

Sinking into that kiss, into him, I feigned ignorance—teasing for the chill rage that often followed his jealousy—as I asked, and what is it I’ve done, my love?

Tearing away, he took his arms from me and folded them across his chest, eyes yet sparkling through angry lids, “Put me down, you fiend.”

Slipping my hands to grip under his thighs—petulant thing that I was to remind him—I nibbled my bottom lip before testing the pinch his had become, “Make me.”

The promise that swelled in his eyes, that twitched on his lips, was interrupted by the shuffle of feet and clink of blades—untouched, forgotten in their fear—slapping against buckles as the pirates returned. And, much as I ached to ignore them and carry my delicious brat to bed...I set him down.

“C'est un bon garçon,” he teased, patting my chest and smiling at the no doubt twisted mess it made of my face. Then he surveyed the deck and addressed the pirates, without his echoing trick, speaking instead into their minds, you are all such good boys.

They gasped, not collectively—more a scattered wave ran through them—and their thoughts sang with renewed terror. None of it quite made sense, at first. But one word repeated loud and clear; demons.

And Lucient leapt on it, yes, we are terrible demons but if you help us to our destination we will allow you to live.

“My love,” I scolded, with a firm hand on his shoulder.

Looking at me, he sighed, “Then you speak to them if I’m so poor at it.”

“Not poor,” the giggle was slight but he caught it, huffing before I could finish, “Just too intense, perhaps, to negotiate.”

“What negotiate,” He shot back, “there’s no negotiating with food.”

Ignoring him, I shook my head and tried to address the pirates—the sensation of so many thoughts rushing into mine at once had faded with the focus but accepting that all of them could hear mine hadn’t. No harm will come to you—

Unless we get hungry, Lucient cut in.

I sighed, voice firmer, You are safe aboard this vessel.

So long as you obey orders and stay out of our things, he cut in again, smiling when I eyed him for it.

My sigh was more a groan then, we can procure any supplies you may need, and you can use the crew quarters here to rest. I apologize for the lack of beds, the—

They were burned with the previous crew, that cut came with a tilt of Lucient’s head and flash of his fangs.

And as the pirates began to murmur in their unknown—but quite lovely to the ears—language, I turned Lucient around to face me, “My love, this isn't going to work if you keep scaring them.”

Hand to his chest, he gasped, “Why, treasure,am I doing something with the pirates you don't like?” then he sharpened his tone, “How thoughtless of me.”

Shaking my head, fighting laughter, I kissed his cheek, “We can plumb the depths of your possessive nature later, my dream, for now I need you to be more hospitable.”

“Are you certain?” He gestured towards the line of men—that broke up as one began rushing about the deck—before smug certainty took his voice, “That one seems eager to assist,” more of the men shuffled off to find something to do and Lucient grinned, “Oh, and look, his friends are joining.”

Watching them bustle about, I couldn’t be certain which of us won out, but it didn’t matter, “We’ll need to fetch them supplies then.”

“Not from that thing,” he told their ship—floating still beside the Lune Royale—and surveying the crew so diligently tending to all they could despite the lack of light, he sighed, “but I supposed we can pick necessities up at the next port we find.”

“And until then, what will they eat?” I asked, but he didn’t answer.

One of the crew approached, purposefully avoiding our eyes and wringing his hands, The...the anchor, his thoughts sputtered into ours, how do we...raise?

Starboard bow, Lucient explained, press on the white handprint. The man nodded and rushed off toward the bow and Lucient turned to me, “There are supplies in the ship, treasure, so long as they didn’t spoil. The old crew may not have appeared alive, but they were and they required food as any other.”

Seeing an opportunity to ask something that had quite honestly confounded me since stepping foot on that ship, I asked it, “What were the old crew?”

Lucient smiled, and I did not care for the implications in it, but he answered, “Thralls, my love, forced into eternal servitude through blood—blood like ours,” before I could comment on the disgust that filled me with, he voiced it, “they were wretched and I’m glad to be rid of them.” Looking over our new crew, forced into servitude through fear, his smile spread but did not soften, “I much prefer ones we can eat.”

“But we won’t,” I told him, stepping closer behind him and slipping my arms around his waist—which he allowed, encouraging a tighter hold with how he hugged them—as I watched the crew struggling in the dark. “My love...where are the lamps?”

He would get them lit, and the crew would get us moving, but not before Lucient filled the air with the song of his laughter.

[eric-the-bmo]

What's up nerds I'm going to explain Leo's playlist but it's also a v bad playlist [and it's like, 2am] so I'll be trying my best (also Restraining myself from rambling about all the lyrics that make me go Insane)

I also still feel like it's Incomplete, like something is missing but I'm not quite sure what?? eh whatever. for now it's sort-of complete so.. I'm talking about it

here we go:

God is a Circle- This song was here since the very beginning and while it doesn't fit anymore, I've grown too attached to delete it from here.

Oracle- There's going to be a running theme of me adding prophet-aligned songs to this list. Also the mentions of things not being real :-)

Breathe- Specifically added this bc it kinda feels like a depersonalization moment

o m e n- a cool prophet song

Thunder Bird- I told you there was going to be a theme here. Sometimes Malks just get wild visions y'know

Bible Belt- LISTEN. THIS IS THE ONLY SONG WITH ANY MENTION OF LEO'S YOUNGER YEARS. I'm so normal about it

The Bite is Eternal- What kinda VtM OC playlist would this be if I didn't put a Bloodlines OST in here /hj

Favorite Poison- The first of many Jeremiah-centric songs on here. The line "maybe it's love 'cause I feel okay" makes me go insane

Touch-Tone Telephone- The conspiracy theorist song!! (totally talking to Chris for this one maybe, this song represents his No Stone Unturned Touchstone anyway)

High- ah yes, another Jeremiah-centric song. That moment when you don't remember drinking your vampire bf's blood so you just think it's just his presence that you enjoy

Tuscon- yknow. sometimes your sire sends you away to San Jose. Autoheart has such beautiful songs with such Heartbroken energy ["I thought I'd found a way out of here baby but I was wrong" is so,,, god.]

The Mind Electric- Listen. Sometimes your memories get messed up bc of your gaslighting sire, and also you go through such a traumatic Event that your brain gets all scrambled. [aka the sound of this song kinda encompasses his Extreme Mental Distress]

Mr. Rattlebone- SHUT UP THIS IS THE JEREMIAH SONG. In my brain it's from his POV as he's talking to pre-embraced/ghoul Leo, god I'm so normal about this song dude

ALCHEMY- I feel like this perfectly encompasses his current feelings about Jeremiah- the anger and horror of him realizing what's going on, the fact he's still on the fence with his feelings about the guy bc of Lingering Feelings and is Angry about that- god I have so many Thoughts about this song. If you gotta listen to any of these songs listen to this one (this song also represents his Grudge Touchstone [bc i couldnt think of anything else /lh])

how many little moments have I forgotten?...- memory issue moment /hj

[blondiest]

I'll raise you a weird level and dare say, phantom Thread Hellcheer? Insane or genius?

okay before i even get into this, i should mention that i do have a hellcheer oneshot that is named after a line from that movie, though i will say it only shares, like, one theme with Phantom Thread (hunger/appetite as an analogy for love). it's called for the hungry girl, and the idea came to me very suddenly and very clearly when my husband served me a plate of absolutely perfect scrambled eggs while i was quite high. it's under 3k words, and of all the fics i have posted, i think it's the most personal.

alright, getting into the actual question here now— i LOVE your mind, love the boldness. i think there are a LOT of themes from that movie that work well for hellcheer, but there are a few reasons i can't personally imagine a full-on Phantom Thread AU working. i'm going to try and break down what i mean here by going through the different elements that i think connect quite well with hellcheer vs the ones i struggle to imagine meshing well with the ship. putting the rest under a cut bc spoilers (though i do keep it vague).

alright, so... warning that this may be disorganized and my thoughts are highly incomplete on the matter (there are many little themes and subtleties i can't spare the time to get into at the moment), but i'm gonna give it a stab. here goes, a little stream of consciousness:

when we first see Alma, she's alone, and we never really learn anything of her family other than the fact that she apparently looks similar to her mother. though we aren't given direct insight into what the deal with Alma's background is, i think this setup works well given Chrissy's fraught relationship with her family— i can easily imagine her having separated from them entirely and going off on her own.

Reynolds and Alma connect instantly and are immediately obsessed with each other — obviously this works for the hellcheer vibe. there's also the fact that their relationship is one of an artist and a muse, which i think transfers easily to a situation in which Eddie is a musician.

Reynolds' prevailing devotion to his late mother, his fondness for the idea that the dead watch over the living, his insistence that he's cursed in some way — all of these things work well for Eddie, imho. Same with Reynolds' absolute commitment / absorption in his work, though I struggle to see Eddie being quite that pathologically intense, even about music. I could see Chrissy needing to strongarm Eddie into taking a break (albeit... not in the same method as Alma bc i don't think it would ever get that far LMAO).

the major things i don't see working for hellcheer... the central issue is that i don't see Eddie ever being as combative / disrespectful towards Chrissy as Reynolds is towards Alma, nor as dismissive / neglectful. and this is where things really start to fall apart if you were trying to follow the plot of the movie, because i don't think that the distance between Eddie and Chrissy would ever get extreme enough for her to consider the drastic measures that Alma takes to get Reynolds to "slow down" & to force him to be vulnerable and reliant on her. i think it's just hard for me to see their relationship being that dysfunctional.

(to be clear i love Reynolds and Alma. i think they're actually very compatible by virtue of being extremely, extremely odd people who are able to, through absolutely deranged (and highly dubious, on Alma's part) means, find synergy and harmony with one another. the reason that it's one of my favorite movies is that i repeatedly thought it was about to pivot into a horror or thriller (and it does often have the same level of tension as a thriller, to me at least), but it is ultimately just a very weird love story, and i ended up finding it profoundly touching.)

here's a collection of quotes i like for them though:

there are totally more that i'm forgetting but i have a huge project & some homework to do so i am cutting myself off here. thank you for the ask!! this was really fun to think about.

[wizisbored]

One Line, Any Fic

Rules: Pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line, and share it! Then tag 10 people!

making a new post for the sake of length, was tagged by @blueskiesandstarrynights, theres no way im thinking of 10 people who have that many fics but uh @regentbison @bunnys-beetlejuice-blog and anyone else who fancies it

a few of these are lines from future chapters

“Liam says you didn’t really get a lobotomy. He says you were pulling my leg.”

“Damn, what a snitch.

- The Book in the Birdbath

“I…” He can’t think what to say. He has to believe his own word, the alternative is too much to bear. “I am going to do everything I possibly can to protect you, Eliza. I can promise that much. I’ll do everything a man can do.”

- The Infernal Children (unpublished)

Beetlejuice is surprised, but only by his assumption that Appero has paid her enough attention to teach her the social etiquette that forbids a mortal thrall from drinking from a demon’s cup. And that she’d follow that etiquette, for that matter. But regardless he pours a little liquor into her hands, and she brings it to her lips.

- Netherborne

But though a treat like this is rare, she can’t bring herself to open it. It’s blood money. Or blood chocolate? But most ghosts don’t really bleed, so… ectoplasm chocolate? Whatever it is, accepting it feels wrong.

- In Case of Emergency, Break Glass

And as for going directly to the department head, well - nobody dares interrupt Juno for a matter as trivial as one bothersome little demon. She’s aware of the child already, despite Lydia’s efforts to avoid her, and she’d rather not be reminded. She has no interest in the girl she assumes is her granddaughter.

- Bugebroph

She considers, for a moment, taking her pitiful meal inside and eating at the table, just to give herself a little dignity. But the thought of having to sit in that chair again sickens her to the core, so she stays where she is. Breakfast in bed, she notes. Ha.

- Snake Oil, Part One

Oh, right. The whole 'shunned by her own kind' thing. He's had a few thousand years to get used to it, but for the kid it's still a fresh wound.

- The Firstborn

For a few moments, the two stand in silence as they watch the dragon rooting around for mealworms. It hops off the feeder quickly, though, snuffles around in the grass briefly for any morsels that might have dropped, and then picks up an old, raggedy tennis ball. With a flick of its head it tosses the ball towards the house, and then goes scrambling after it.

- Little Black Dragon

She raises her head slightly, just enough to peek over her arms, and catches a glimpse at the statue overlooking the garden. The Blessed Virgin Mary, Our Lady of Sorrows. Patron saint of mothers. Stood there with the same blank expression as ever, cold stone eyes gazing lovingly upon nothing. And God, in that moment, Lydia wants to grab a rock and do something blasphemous.

- The Paranormal Investigative Society of Dormitory Four

They hop down off the platform, into an out of bounds area of an already out of bounds fairground. Lydia moves with a little more caution here, conscious of the low sections of track that loom out of the dark and force her to duck, and wondering whether every shadow cast on the ground or fleck of rust on the metal could be blood.

- Choir Incomplete

[rottenbrainstuff]

BG3 playthrough - Endless Act 3 quests

Spoilers below the cut!

OH MY GOD there’s too many things in Rivington…….. Luckily it seems most of these quests are small and self-contained so I can play by slowly advancing through areas and finishing whatever NPC thing is there before moving on?

Hey fellow dark urge players - have you ever noticed that if you look in the magic mirror, it resets your tav’s name back to The Dark Urge? And you will have to retype out the name you want? It does not do this for normal tavs. I wonder if this is just a bug. MORE interesting would be if they did it on purpose, and you are constantly having to reassert your new identity.

I was going through some old papers and letters and in a roundabout way realized there was a whole cutscene with Karlach that I missed back in Moonrise Towers. If you approach the bugbear trader with Karlach on your team, you will get a whole scene about an old friend of hers from Avernus. I love that there are little details like this in the game, and even though I am uncovering I think all or close to all of the little plot points, there will still be additional surprises like this if I replay with different teammates.

God, Rivington and especially Wyrm’s Crossing are so damned full of people. My computer is just lagging the fuck out. Not inspiring. I wish there was some way to optimize this better. Maybe reduce the rendering radius even more or something I dunno?

I found Arfur and his delightful little plot to blow up refugee children with toy bombs! What a delight that was. Too bad for this motherfucker, my brain-scrambled durge tav imprinted like a baby chick on the tiefling refugees during his first few days off the nautiloid, and this guy’s ass is now grass.

I’ve noticed that online guides seem to be incomplete (A SHOCK!) about how to resolve the situation with him, saying that you must either side with Arfur and the squatters leave, or else you side with the squatters which causes Arfur to go to Sharess’ Caress, and you can confront him there later about the plot. Me, I’m trying to take this enormous area in little pieces and I don’t really feel like opening up yet another new area yet - what if I want to deal with him right here and now?

There might be other dialogue branches to get to the same result, but here’s what I did: if you use detect thoughts during the confrontation, you can see Arfur is nervous about the squatters finding his basement. You can ask him about his basement, then ask him if you should go check it out. He will lose his patience and instruct his hired goons to attack. Once you kick their asses, (which btw you can safely do, as far as I can see, this fight does not aggro anyone else in the area) he stays in the area without running off, waiting for you to make a decision.You are then free to go and explore the basement and do the whole exploding toys quest. When Manip Nestor tells you to go find the one responsible for this, Arfur is still standing right there in front of his house, and you can finish the quest right here instead of going all the way to Sharess’ Caress. I’m assuming this conclusion is all exactly the same as if it was at Sharess’ Caress: you can agree to let him go, you can accept his bribe, or you can insist he’s going to be arrested. Then he walks away, presumably off to turn himself in at the jail like a good boy lmao, and the squatters thank you for allowing them to stay. Easy peasy and no need to go track Arfur down in some brand new area.

OMG Tara is so cute. If you approach her with Gale, she has a longer conversation with you. Is that the only time we see her?? Please say no! I love Tara so much!

Hey so I talked to the ironhand gnomes, went up through the ladder in their hideout, and discovered, surprisingly, that it leads to the smith’s rooms??? I wanted to ask him about it, why he has a secret hatch that leads to a domestic terrorist organization, but when I came through the hatch, I found he had been murdered by Orin!!! Is it possible to talk to him somehow that I missed?

Speaking of Orin - I know a lot of people are annoyed with her “ooooh it’s Orin, what an unexpected surprise!” schtick, but I actually do like the way she pops up. I like how you start speaking to an NPC and the conversation slowly starts to get more and more deranged. Before I realize it’s Orin, there is a second where it’s a genuine “what the hell is happening?” reaction. What I think the problem with Orin is, is that it happens too close together. Like, I spoke to the guard at the refugee camp, then extremely shortly after that, I spoke to the blacksmith and found her again. I am less annoyed with this concept, I think it’s cool, I kind of like the implication that Orin is out there gathering intel on you so you maybe need to watch what information you give out to random strangers, I just think the meetings needed to be a bit more spaced out, and it might avoid that annoyance that some players have with her.

I loved the courier’s zhentarim note that they hadn’t heard from the group in Waukeen’s Rest for a while. In my game, I killed all those guys when I found their hideout. I think it’s neat you have options to ally with them, but my tav personally has no use for a mafia that deals in slaves and tadpoles. If you didn’t kill the zhents in Waukeen’s Rest, does the letter still say they’ve lost contact, or does it change and say something else?

I’m finding an awful lot of murdered refugees all strewn about. I’m not exactly sure what’s happening here. I know Orin is being shitty, I know we have these doppleganger freaks, and I know there’s other stuff going on as well that I haven’t even explored yet, so who knows. I wish there was some kind of reaction line from tav or companions or something? Like. When we approached the blighted village, they commented on the dead villagers on the road. Here, I climbed down a well and found like four murdered refugees all in a pile, and there’s no comment??

I LOVED the weirdness of finding a child next to the southern checkpoint gate that was actually voiced by a real child, and not an adult VA. Very very jarring! As this is the only actual child voice in the entire game that I’ve seen so far, I assume this must be one of the dev’s kids that they put in to be cute, and I think that’s fun.

[everythingbap]

🎤 Interview: “In music, we feel that it isn’t possible to please everyone”

Just like when girl idols who target uncle fans as a representative of male hearts, it it very important male idols can grasp/steal the hearts of females. Rookie idol male group can only chose a either a mushy and sweet love song concept for their debut track or a tough and powerful concept song that can’t be seen around the area to grasp the hearts of female fans. However the risks for both styles follow. On one side, sweet love songs have the danger of the level of masculinity hitting rock bottom, on the latter, a tough concept might have too much power so people wouldn’t majorly grasp the meaning. Rookie group B.A.P are not held back by these situations and chose the road of the tough concept. Their debut track “Warrior” doesn’t allow even 0.01% of the cuteness of other boybands and is perfectly shaped into a masculine song. From the intro starting with Bang Yongguk’s rapping, this song is consistently powerful from the beginning to end. The chorus incorporates crump dance, used to warn others, and leaves a deep impression.

“When we first received the song, I really liked it. Since I feel that men should be masculine I felt that ‘Warrior’ was a song that matched us perfectly.” (Yongguk)

“The whole feeling of the song makes our performance onstage really powerful. It was so powerful that at our first practice, my stamina started burning out.” (Youngjae)

However, B.A.P isn’t only at a level where people should judge by only their debut track. In their debut single, the song ‘Unbreakable’ and ‘Secret Love’ (feat. Song Jieun) show their musical competency which they worked hard on.  “In our debut single album many of our thoughts and opinions are inside. Configurations on our performance and concerns over the song are written in effort to show our artistic side.”  When B.A.P were asked if they had any concerned feelings on going on the direction of popular trends for fans, they responded, ”In music, we feel that it isn’t possible to please everyone” and “rather than going down a preplanned road, we want to go down our individual roads for us” and were very mature and non-rookie-like when revealing their deep musical feelings. During the interview, they revealed many of their musical related greeds. If B.A.P were to venture and try other domains, they replied that they wanted to study producing, radio DJ, music show mc, and duets. Also B.A.P lastly stated, “Inside the music industry, we want to be the group who are changing directions and starting trends”, together. Amidst the emphasis on girl groups and the scrambling of all the male idols in the same age group, they have risen onto their prepared stage. From here, if a group has incomplete preparation, those male groups would not want to face head to head against BAP.

As a result of meeting these 6 boys their amount of skill, preparation, and passion are real 100% ‘Warrior Legends.’ I bet even the bare bones are not defeat-able.

Credit: jinniekim12 (BAPUNIVERSE)

[elijahfalvey]

Rhiannon’s smile was ear-to-ear as Rory pressed the small sticker to her forehead, and Elijah tried not to think about the struggle it would become later when she inevitably didn’t let him peel it off at bath time and instead tried to focus on how happy it made her in the moment. It’d been difficult, lately, seeing the bigger picture — his bubbling problems with Nilay seemed to have well and truly bled into just about every area of his life by this point, despite how badly he wanted to keep them away from the girls especially — but he supposed, in part, that was why he was still here. Keeping routine, even if it was hard. It was one of the things often mentioned in group, and well . . . what if it was the only one that stuck?

“Say thank you,” Elijah urged quietly, to which Rhia enthusiastically replied with a lispy and incomplete, “Thank you!”

He ultimately decided not to question the whole zombies thing — being around Hattie for so many years definitely taught him that kids, as they got older, took interest in some very specific topics, hers most recently being badminton — and instead gave a little wave as she emerged from the back, chuckling at the fact that was the only acknowledgement he received. 

“Sort of. Not exactly. We’ve just been a bit . . . scrambled, lately, I suppose,” he answered while the kids occupied themselves with a hug, veiling the truth with a less abrasive adjective, “She’s been working a lot. I’m sure the ones in her office died by now, so I figured it’d be nice to do something a bit,” he waved his hands as he thought, “More. And Annie’s never done me wrong, obviously.” 

Her enthusiasm tugged at his heart a little, a smile breaking through his features. As she happily took on the challenge, he elaborated, “Right, well, I think the last time I was here, I got — oh, what were they called? Pansies? The purple ones where it’s a bit dark in the middle?” You would think with how often he was here, he’d get better at recognizing names; he gave up hope for that awhile ago. “I think I want to do a yellow flower this time. Or maybe, like, a bunch of warmer colors? Switch it up a bit. What do you think about that?”

Rhia’s screech is, by now, one of Rory’s favorite greetings — it reminds him of when Annie was her age, excited by the sight of just about anything and anyone familiar. To be someone who elicits such a response in such a young child is, of course, a privilege, something Rory had to explain to Elijah countless of times until he quit with his apologies. As Elijah takes the yogurt cup from her, Rory’s already peeling one of the flower stickers he keeps beside the register for occasions such as this one. “Hi, pretty girl,” he greets her leaning downward to press an artistic rendition of a lily flower to her forehead. 

He looks up at Elijah’s question, finds him looking a little flustered, all things considered. Rory winks at Rhia before straightening up, leaning up against the counter and moving his attention to Elijah. “She’s in the back,” he assures him. “Coloring zombies.” He does not elaborate on this before he calls, “Annie! Elijah and Rhia are here!” He turns back to Elijah with a raised eyebrow and a tilted head, clearly curious about his disposition. “Special occasion this time round?” he asks. Though he supposes maybe his bit of restlessness could be a result of Rhia’s insistence on staying at her grandparents’ place. Rory can’t imagine that’s an easy task to deal with — not one he ever had to deal with, mind you, with one set of Annie’s grandparents dead and the other looking to turn her into the cold-hearted business tycoon daughter they couldn’t turn their real one into.

Annie wastes no time in skipping out of the back room, a large smile on her face. “Hi, Mr. Elijah!” She greets him happily, but bypasses him altogether to make her way towards little Rhia. “Hi, Rhi Rhi,” she coos out the nickname she’d given the other their first time here, leaning down to give the young toddler a gentle hug. She’d started her off with tight hugs like she’d give most people in her life — Rory had to teach her quickly that that was, perhaps, not the best idea with a two-year-old. She’s clearly taken the advice to heart, and it melts something in Rory. She’d’ve been a fantastic big sister, he thinks ruefully. Chances of that now, however, are slim to none. 

Rory nods over at Annie. “Aye, she’s at your service,” he tells the other man, before turning his attention to his daughter. “Elijah needs some help picking out the flowers today.”

Annie’s eyes light up as she takes Rhia’s little hand in hers. “Oh my god,” she nods enthusiastically at Elijah. “You know I love picking flowers, Mr. Elijah.”

His lips press together in an amused smile as he glances at Elijah. He gestures over at the two girls. “You heard her,” he tells him. 

[pinkykats-place]

Mermaid AU🧜 mer deku x human baku

AO3 Fanfic Recommendations

BakuDeku

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked below are mine.

Some contain mature content - read tags.

Art not mine - artist thegirlinthefandom.SG

Note: If you read any of these works and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

Something Fishy by 9oz

Summary: Midoriya, a mermaid, ends up on barbarian pirate captain Bakugo's ship and it's not good news (yet).

Complete | 8 Chapters | Mature

Out of these Waters by awkwardtypeos

Summary: (Little Mermaid AU - with a twist)

Izuku realizes that not only did he just fall out of love at that exact moment, but he also realizes that Katsuki Bakugo is the biggest asshole he’s ever met in his entire life. He sold his soul to a sea witch to be with the world’s worst human being. He’s too furious to be sad - so Izuku stands up on his painful legs and slugs Bakugo right in the jaw, hard, and watches him scramble backward clutching at his face, spitting out more curses than Izuku knew to exist in the human language.

Complete | 16 Chapters

Rated - Mature

If the stars could sing by Evilkat23

Summary: There in front of Aizawa was an aquarium the size of the wall, which, given how big and long these walls were, was impressive. The aquarium was back lit by a soft blue back light and fake background of the ocean. Yet, there weren't any fish in this aquarium…

Well…

There was one. Kinda.

There in the aquarium was a mer…boy?

Abandoned | 7 Chapters | Mature

Of Love, Scales, & Fins by orphan_account

Summary: Katsuki Bakugou is doing what he can to rise up in the ranks as a criminal, even if it is wasn't his first choice in life. Of course, he made the mistake of messing with the Shie Hassaikai clan, which landed him in the river to swim with the fishes.

Or, at least that's what he thought. The last thing he remembers before waking on the riverbank is a beautiful face & a soft kiss.

Then, the same man, whom he thought was just a figment of his imagination, shows up at his door, naked aside from his neighbor's garments & telling Katsuki that he's a member of the merfolk! What the fuck?

Complete | 16 Chapters | NSFW

Wish by Darkshadow

Summary: Eight year old Katsuki goes to the beach only to spot the most beautiful creature he has ever seen, can he convince the merman to stay by his side even through times of struggle.

One Shot | Mature Themes | No Smut

I Am No Fisherman's Slave by DanaEliza

Summary: After many failed attempts, captain Bakugo has set sail for an island that mostly certainly has mermaids. A species he has been looking for, for years. But what if instead of finding a mermaid, one has already found them?

7/? Chapters | NSFW

Last Updated Feb 2021

Home is Where the Heart Is by RoboticSpaceCase

Summary: Tricked into working under a strange man as a “treasure hunter”, Katsuki Bakugou finds himself out on a boat, trolling the waters for something interesting. When he accidentally catches a mermaid, Bakugou knows he’s found his way out of his boring job and all of his debt. All he had to do was make it back to shore.

12/18 Chapters | NSFW

Last Updated 2020

Life Amongst The Waves by Skelekitty

Summary: Izuku and Bakugou met as children. Izuku got caught in the currents during a storm out at sea and ended up being washed ashore on a beach. It just so happened that Bakugou was out for a walk early that morning and found him unconscious. He helped Izuku and got him back in the water.

After that they met often in a secret cave to escape the eyes of others around, this went on for a few months, but one day Bakugou stopped coming.

Incomplete | 7/? Chapters | SFW

Last Updated 2019

When you hold me by Serah_chan

Summary: It’s another oil spill, Katsuki’s told. Rescue and containment operatives have been mobilized to save as much life and hold off the growing blotch of sticky death spilling into the bay. Katsuki’s unit gets sent out on boats to set up oil boons. He’s just finished and is getting ready to go switch to life rescue when he spots something hits his small boat. What the fuck? He thinks just before there’s another thud. He rushes to the side to take a look, aware it may be an animal in peril... what he finds instead is an oil slick covered hand reaching out, pressed against the side of the hull.

Complete | 24 Chapters

A Sea of Green and Red by TriforceAngel

Summary: Pirates are terrible, ruthless, taking and hurting others for anything that they want. Or are they?

Taken from his home and his loved one's Izuku must find a way to get back home beneath the waves. Will he have the help to do so? Or will he change his mind to pursue something he had never experienced before?

WIP | 20/? Chapters | mature content

Last Updated May 2024

At An Ocean's Divide by that_enby_nerd

Summary: An AU in which Midoriya is a merman living near the kingdom of the Bakugo family, and a forbidden connection forms between the prince and a knight of the sea.

Incomplete | 12/? CH | Mature

Last Updated May 2022

Series: Pirates and Sirens by BluGemRising

2 Works