#it practically got reabsorbed

[aspiringnexu]

Something I find absolutely hilarious is just how different the Woodland Realm is to Lothlorien and Rivendell. It’s a difference borne of many things, of course, given that Rivendell and Lothlorien are both run by Elves with Rings of Power and Eryn Lasgalen isn’t and that Rivendell and Lothlorien are run by people related to each other (not just because of the whole shared Noldor thing) whereas Eryn Lasgalen is ruled by a royal family of Sindar and populated by Silvans. Then there’s that whole thing with the Necromancer shacking up in Dol Guldur and fucking up the forest.

But regardless I find it endlessly amusing to imagine how different the White Council would have been if Thranduil had been invited to join. Because you have Gandalf the stoned, Saruman the cantankerous bitch, Elrond the wise and reserved, and Galadriel the ridiculously ethereal who comes with her own choir back-up singers. And then enter Thranduil, Middle-Earth’s premier Dramatic Bitch with his uber fancy crown and long trailing robes lined with brilliant burnt umber satin with his massive fucking elk and enough sarcastic disdain to fill the Long-Lake.

I dunno I just find it funny that the Lord of the Rings showed us the graceful, ethereal, honestly-kinda-spooky elves and then we get the Party Master, Wine Connoisseur, Fashionista Bitch who is perfectly happy with going to war so he can get his wife’s gems back from a bunch of (honestly he’s not really wrong though at that point the main problem is Thorin) thieving dwarves in The Hobbit.

And suddenly all of Legolas’ over-the-top dramatics make sense.

[eversncenewyork]

& more!

[demonslayedher]

Well, briefly recalling the question where nezuko and mitsuri kick Muzan's crotch and how that would be useless...what if nezuko sets him on fire?

Ah yes, this Ask, in which we examined the crotch weakness question and I arrived at the conclusion that he wouldn't be particularly weak there. We do know he is weak enough against regular fire to have it slow his regeneration, however slightly--hence, the explosion in Chapter 138 and Sanemi's surprised oil and match technique in Chapter 185. We also know that Nezuko's fire works specifically against demons, and she hates Muzan so much that just being around more of his cells empowers her to develop newer and more powerful skills more rapidly, like when she faced Daki (and for that matter, Rui).

Yes, I think we're on to something here. Ufufu.

I was just pondering the other day how much shorter of a series this would be if Nezuko went running after Tanjiro in Asakusa that night, for she'd have gotten pissed off at Muzan right away and probably developed some anger-driven power, but seeing as she's still not that powerful of a demon when facing the Swamp Demon--quick to get thrown off by a single injury, slow to recovery, very quickly in need of sleep--she'd be killed immediately if she tried to attack Muzan as she was. Ultimately, Nezuko's power started off from the cells of Muzan inside of her, and although she developed it through her own will, it would take a lot for her to be strong enough to take him on and hold her own.

However! As you said, the secret here is fire, something rare among demons who already have an innate desire not to get burned--one of the few things Muzan fears! I think we can say that part of her abilities is being a Kamado, with generations and generations of fire workers before her. Even if she didn't inherit the red eyes which all her siblings did, or the extra red tints that Kakushaku-no-Ko Tanjiro did, she still has that background in her blood.

However... Kakushaku-no-Ko Tanjiro sure showed her up with how much faster he mastered the sun than she did. I suspect this is both due to his extra-looking inheritance of whatever fire-related blessings their family inherited through careful generations of work (life's not fair if you're not an eldest son, I guess), as well as the effect that practicing Hinokami Kagura may have had on his body, which primed it for quick mastery of the sun. Tanjiro was believably more powerful than Muzan, and had a whole lot more of Muzan's blood in the first place. Nezuko's got the family background too, but she had to rely so much more on her own willpower. (Nezuko, girl, you're amazing.)

So! Let's take Nezuko at her potential strongest. Nezuko's had a really good nap! Nezuko's mastered the sun! Nezuko's got humans to protect! Nezuko's got the love and support of her brother! Nezuko's got rage in the presence of her family's killer! Nezuko's got... a butt-chin!!

If we take Nezuko at her very strongest, spilling just about all the blood she's got, I think she could do very, very serious damage. Would it be enough, though, to demolish him quickly enough that he doesn't kill her first? Even if the curse doesn't affect her, that's not his only way of squashing demons. Tamayo showed us that she could battle Muzan will willpower and retain some form for a very long time before ultimately being reabsorbed into him, and Nezuko's will is strong enough that she might stand a chance, but...

I think the safer bet would be Tanjiro using Hinokami Kagura's 13th floor first--using it to the very best of his potential abilities, though that would probably still put him no where close to Yoriichi, and Tanjiro was still no where near this when he had no choice but to use his imperfect Hinokami Kagura against Muzan. But, if he could do even partially what Yoriichi accomplished, then Nezuko would probably have a safe bet of burning the last of that flesh away forever.

Here's an AU--maybe if the timeline were a little different...

[darkpoisonouslove]

What happened after near death experiences when Griffin was still in the circle? Like if it was Valtor who nearly dies I can see Griffin being mad at him for taking any risk but she needs the time to relized that she is actually angry about it because she is worried about him. I'm working on something where he and Marion having a big fight because both sides needed something and Valtor did not want to retire because his mothers wanted this something very badly and missions always come first...

But idk about Valtor. I like the idea of him being 24/7 worried about her when they are alone and secretly searching for ways that this never could happen again.

I mean... near death experiences for Valtor would be an exception. He's literally made of the Dragon Fire and darkness, which are two things that are eternal. The show implies that only the Water Stars could kill him unless he gets reabsorbed into the uncorrupted Flame. I hate the idea that he really is that special. Most immortals come with the strings that they are immortal as in won't die from natural causes but can be killed. So I like to think that there are other ways to kill him as well. Still, that would not happen often because it would require knowledge of what he is and what he's made of and how to go around that and actually kill him, and I don't believe that a lot of people are familiar with the specifics of Valtor's existence.

Fighting against Marion would definitely be one type of situation that comes with substantial risk. And yes, I do like the idea of Griffin trying to brush her worry off as pragmatism. She is his partner and she can carry her own weight but it's still comforting to know that he is practically untouchable and can shield her from any kind of harm (whether physical in battle or legal consequences from her actions). She'd try to play it off as something that makes her worry about her own safety and even if there's truth in that, it's also because she now also has to worry about him. She was just used to the thought that she doesn't have to fear for his safety because practically nothing can get to him and now she's faced with the reality that even he isn't invincible and there's a chance she might have to lose him. That would definitely take getting used to and she'd try to push the thought away, wouldn't want to deal with it. But still, she'd have to because her being in denial could cost him his life if a near-death situation happens again and she's not prepared to help him.

Valtor, in an attempt to not think about the disaster that the confrontation with Marion was, would focus on teasing Griffin about being so worried. It's both a distraction from his failure and a way to get under Griffin's skin and make her admit her true feelings on the matter, how much she loves him. That would rub her the wrong way but I think she'd be more willing to tolerate him because she knows that he was shaken by the situation as well. If she was distressed to have the illusion of his immortality shattered, it must be that much worse for him. She can see that he's deflecting because after a certain point, her worry starts to grate on him, starts to feel like she's nagging him for his failure as well. So she tries to curb her own reactions. That ought to shut him up as well.

If Griffin almost died, I think Valtor would try to act as unbothered as possible. Not so much that he'd make her think he doesn't care about her safety but enough to make her feel like he had the situation under control anyway and nothing would have happened to her. He was there, he got her out, he healed her, saved her life. It's all good. Even death isn't powerful enough to extract her from his arms. It's all a front to cover up how powerless the whole thing left him feeling because he was right there and despite all of his magic and talent, she still almost died. To something that he should be able to protect her from no less. It's driving him crazy and he would be insisting that she rest a lot during the following days while he's analyzing every angle of the situation and looking for ways to make sure something like that never happens again.

I think Griffin would know but she herself feels weakened and she knows that poking his emotions to the surface will not help. The most that could happen is that they'd get into a fight and she really doesn't want to hear from him (said in a fit of anger but still true) what she already knows - that she's no match for him and is far more vulnerable than he is. She is touched that he is so concerned for her but at the same time she doesn't want to be fully dependent on him saving her life so she would skip the rest and work on avoiding future repeats of the situation as well.

[accursedkaleeshi]

Death of Taa’yn

Triplets for reference & cute depressing palette cleanser. TW childbirth, death, blood

Taa’yn grew up in the oldest Masyrta (Mother temple) in the great expanse of northern Kalee. Many around her were sure she was favored by the All-Mother, including her father. She did a lot of egg sitting, hatch monitoring, & midwifing, making her the best kaleesh to have around for her wives’ first eggs. That being said, she had dealt with hundreds of mothers & knew things did not always go according to plan.

         Being largely reptilian, their bodies can safely reabsorb developing eggs at all but the latest stages if something is wrong. If something went wrong during pregnancy that their bodies could not handle there was not really anything they could do about it, especially in the North. At nearly 4 years after her first child, it didn’t take long for Taa’yn to feel like something was off in her second pregnancy.

         The egg was too large. She could feel her organs & ribs being moved too far. The other wives could not tell for sure, since Taa’yn was the largest of them to begin with. That along with the cultural kaleeshi attitude of letting things take their course led Taa’yn to keep her concerns to herself. “The egg was still viable,” she thought to herself, “Or I would not still be pregnant.”

         She was right. Her eggs were in pristine condition, in fact. They were developing so well that her body saw this pregnancy as going great & so greenlit it to full term. But when the day came to deliver Taa’yn was stoic & insistent. She requested only a few specific wives to assist. Everyone was immediately concerned. Taa’yn had never been anything but cheerful & delivery, like most kaleesh events, had usually been an open party plan.

         Taa’yn delivered an egg 20% larger than usual. It had adhered to a wall of her womb & tried to take it with on the way out. There was a lot of blood. Taa’yn, through a grimace, informed her wives that there was another egg in there. Mertenzi & Twarxii had to reach up there to help it out. Nobody knew what to say or do besides put her eggs in her arms. They tried a few things to stop the bleeding but it was too much. Taa’yn, glowing with relief, had told everyone not to worry & that everything would be fine, that everyone would do so good, until she slipped away into a final sleep. She was barely cold when Grievous made it back.

Kaleesh very rarely had multiples. They were made to streamline one big egg at a time. Some of them didn't even know that could happen. On the very rare occasion that Kaleesh had twins they were two in one egg as was the case with Taa’yn’s large egg. This brought about its own set of concerns. The family was advised by the Mother Minders that came down for the funeral to remove the identical twins from their egg no later than week 10. Removing hatchlings before they were ready was nerve-wracking but, between their sharp little claws & instinct to eat, you can see where it might not be a great idea to let them hatch on their own.

Luckily their husband built an incubator & there was always a mother in the nesting room. Salaen had just become pregnant with her first & was very scared. She calmed down after sitting with the triplets, considering it mom practice. Despite being peeled early Hez’kiya & Twan’lei did very well. The family worried about the second egg, as it seemed to have been packed quite tightly. But Gal’Jyn was just making sure he got all the bang for his buck out of his egg, absorbing all the yolk before hatching & eating his entire egg. The triplets went onto be perfectly healthy pups.

[adayinflash]

Choke Me So That You May Live

TWs: None

(We're back! I got busy and couldn't find the time to write things, so I set this aside, then even as things started to ease up I just had gotten out of the practice of it all, so it was hard to start back up. Hopefully I'll keep posting, but with classes no guarantees. Anyways, have a story about leaves)

            I must apologize for falling short of the quotas. Even though I faithfully supplied as much as you needed for seven whole months, the time has come for me to fall short. The others will, too, but I’m the first. As the sun shows its face more and more infrequently, I find it more and more difficult to do what is asked of me. Therefore, you have no reason to hesitate. It’s the only logical decision.

            You know this has to happen every year. While I may not remember the cullings of the past, surely you must, being the one to undertake the task annually. So what makes it so difficult for you now? My presence is nothing but a drain on resources, resources you will need in the coming months as you discard the rest of my brethren. You are all we have ever known, and we love you unconditionally. So you must know that we invite this gladly, for if our death may aid in your survival for even a year more, it will be well worth it.

            So choke me. Choke me so that you may live. Let the lush, vibrant color drain from my veins, to be replaced by a violent, bleeding flame. Let me shrivel up, the remaining fluid reabsorbed into your body and freed to the sky. Let me fall from your loving grasp so you no longer need to bear my weight. Let me rot so that you may reconstitute my form once it has sufficiently decomposed. Let me die so that you may live.

[boopjuice]

hehe hiiii tell me about Katherine

As a heads up before going into this, there is some mention of suicide in the story, in case that is something you want to avoid.

Okay, so Katherine is an oc I made for MHA. Basically, her quirk is based around blades, so she's able to create blades from the iron in her blood and control them. The blades form under her skin and actually cut their way out, eventually forming little pockets in her skin where it's easier for her to create blades from that she calls sheaths. She can reabsorb the blades, but can't reabsorb all the iron, so there's usually a little bit of iron dust that remains after she uses her quirk.

Anyway, she gets her quirk at four years old after a nightmare and, when she goes to tell her parents about the knives shooting out of her hands, she overhears her parents talking about how they'd be glad to have a quirkless daughter instead of one with a "villainous" quirk, since both parents already faced discrimination because their quirk were deemed villainous by peers and family. In Katherine's four year old mind, she figures that if she has a villainous quirk that her parents will abandon her, so she hides her quirk from then on. She pretends to take on a mimicry quirk, training her voice so she can copy any sound she hears.

Once she hits school age, she makes friends with a girl named Sunēkuai, or just Sunē for short, and alongside her childhood friend Kai the three decide to become heroes together. Kai has a water manipulation quirk, while Sunē can turn people into various reptiles and back, and she has snakes for hair. Their quirks lead people to harshly bully Sunē and Katherine, believing Sunē will turn out to be a villain and Katherine will turn into a random office worker with crushed dreams. But the trio stick together until the last year or so of middle school. Kai had been training to be a hero with some kids from his class and teaching Sunē and Kat what he'd been learning. When the group found out, they told him to either leave or stop teaching Katherine and Sunē.

At this point, Katherine has been training in martial arts for years. She knows by now that she isn't going to be abandoned, but her quirk is already in the registry and she fears getting in legal trouble for lying about her quirk, so she still keeps it to herself. Because of this, she has to be good at self defense, which is why she takes martial arts with Sunē. She's also got a few weapons courses, namely knife fighting since it wouldn't be too uncommon for a villain to have some kind of knife on them, and that's where she excels. She's also been practicing her quirk in secret, wanting to gain some more control over it even if she can't ever use it.

High school testing comes around, and she and Sunē test for all the same schools together. They don't try for U.A., they don't think they'll be able to make it, but Sunē manages to get into a C-list hero course. Katherine doesn't, and the two promise to stay in contact as much as possible with the two different schedules. They do, calling often and having study sessions together for topics they share like languages, math, and stuff of that sort. But Sunē starts to deal with harsher bullying in the hero course due to her quirk, and ends up committing suicide near the end of her first year.

Katherine is devastated, since the last time she saw Sunē she was planning on telling her about her quirk, her real quirk, so Sunē knew she wasn't alone. But Katherine's mom called, upset that she was hanging around with "that villain child," leading to a fight between them. Sunē told Katherine to go home to not cause further trouble, and Kat never got the chance to tell her about her quirk and how she'd been hiding it. Kat feels really guilty about it and vows to never use her quirk again, even in secrecy. She takes up smithing, making blades by hand and getting pretty good at it.

Once she gets a little better at it, she opens a nonprofit called Sunēkuai Blades, focusing on making custom blades for people and donating all funds to help with suicide prevention and raising awareness. From decorative pieces to functional kitchen knives, she makes everything by hand without the aid of her quirk, to the point she nearly forgets how to use it since it's been about ten years. The nonprofit is a side job though, since there isn't a lot of demand for blades like that, so she works full time at Kai's hero agency.

Kai doesn't really know she works there, since she's a low-level paper-pusher mostly. But he does meet her again when she comes in to give a tip about a case, a hero-killer copycat who leaves his blades at the scene and orders said blades from her nonprofit, which pisses her off since she makes her blades to try and save people. Anyway, she recognizes her own handiwork and calls in the tip, where she meets Kai for the first time in years as he helps the police get information from her. Kai pushes her hard, at first suspecting that she might have some connection to the villain since he remembers how she used to follow Sunē around, but eventually drops it. However, since she's lower in the ladder and providing the info took longer than expected, she gets in a bit of trouble with her boss.

Eager to make up for it, and get out of hot water, she works late the next day and is too tired to notice or effectively fight the guy that pulls her into the alley with unknown but certainly unpleasant intentions. On instinct, she accidentally uses her quirk and kills him, a small blade through his eye and into his brain doing the job without making too much mess. In a panic, she hides the body in a dumpster and heads home. The sleazy dude, however, was being trailed by the League of Villains. He'd stumbled into their bar a few weeks ago and had tried to pull a similar stunt on Toga. He managed to get away, but the League doesn't like loose ends (and the fact that I headcanon that they're all a big found family has absolutely nothing at all to do with this what are you talking about?) and want to kill the guy as revenge to make certain he doesn't tell the heroes where they are. Anyway, Twice watches Katherine kill him and dispose of the body and lets Shigaraki know, who gets really interested and wants to force Katherine to join the League since her quirk could be useful.

Katherine spends the next two weeks paranoid about heroes finding out what she did, as well as wrestling with the fact that she doesn't feel guilty about it. Meanwhile, the League spends that time stalking her, learning where she lives, works, does on a day-to-day basis, everything they can before sending Dabi in to kidnap her. They give him some extra time to hopefully find more dirt on her by having Shigaraki discreetly destroy some records one of Kat's coworkers were working on and making her stay late to help redo all the work. During this time, Dabi finds the designs that Kat really liked, duplicates of old orders that were too good not to have copies of. One of them, a katana with a bright green snake forged into the metal, has a picture of Kat and Sunē with a note to Sunē saying Kat thought she'd have like the design.

Katherine gets home from the impromptu overtime and, exhausted, doesn't notice the intruder in her home until it's too late. She wakes up in an interrogation room, where Dabi reveals that he knows her quirk and tried to press her for more information about it, hoping she'll spill some dirt about why she keeps it hidden to leverage her into joining the League. When that fails, he tries the same strategy as the now dead guy with much greater success. With Katherine's quirk revealed he's able to twist her arm and makes her join the League, however reluctant she is about it. She's not going to risk losing the life she built by revealing her quirk, it's far too late for that. Her choices are limited and very, very poor. So she goes along with their plans.

She spends a couple weeks at the hideout, learning her role in their upcoming plans as a seemingly random hostage used to bait heroes into death traps. During that time, she learns more about the members, their pasts and struggles, and find she sympathizes with them a little too much for her liking. She doesn't feel like she should relate so much to villains, and it scares her more than they do. Toga takes a liking to her, for obvious reasons, as does Dabi. He does so more out of respect for how resolutely she commits herself to her goals, in this case not getting found out, and how far she's willing to go to get what she wants.

Time comes to run the plan for the first time, and Katherine is surprised and more than grateful to see that the first hero they decide to pull the tactic on is Kai. She calls out to him by name, begging for his help to get away. She doesn't mention how wrong and yet how right the last few weeks with the villains felt. It's too scary to acknowledge right now. She just wants to get away and not have to worry about her quirk getting revealed.

But Kai refuses. Laughs in her face, in fact. Berates the League for choosing her as a hostage at random (so her thinks) because she's always been good for nothing, attaching herself to a would-be villain if she hadn't realized what a danger she posed to society and killed herself before that happened.

Which, understandably, pisses Katherine off.

She uses her quirk to kill the sidekicks with him before summoning the snake katana she'd made years ago out of the sheath in her arm, using it to kill Kai via beheading while he freaks out about her quirk not being what she said it was. She denounces him beforehand, calling out that he wasn't a hero and never had been, at least not in action. It's the last thing she says to him before she kills him, and just like the guy in the alley she doesn't feel remorse for what she does.

After that she decides that she can't go back to the life she built. She's killed two people, and even if she didn't particularly enjoy it she didn't feel any aversion to it. She'd been hiding an important part of herself for so long that it's been nice being around people who knew her secret and didn't treat her different because of it like she feared. They called her a villain not because of her quirk, but because of what she did, which really shouldn't have made as much of a difference as it did. But she decides to stay with the League and help them because they're the only ones who get it, and she just can't leave that behind.

[sirspazingtonthefourth]

A Well-Tempered Blade

Chapter 3: Shattered Dreams

Summary: Katherine has a lousy quirk. At least, that's what everyone says. After all, who would want to be able to mimic any sound they hear? That's no quirk for a hero. But Katherine's quirk is not mimicry, but something worse; something that would get her labelled a villain the second she revealed it. So to keep her family she hides her quirk, not even telling her closest friends her secret. But secrets must eventually come into the lights, and Katherine's are no exception. 1.9k/16k, no romance, angst? oc

A/N: Oh boy, I really love this chapter. I hope it gets across how close Katherine and Sunē are to each other. I don't want to say too much and risk spoiling the chapter, but I hope you enjoy!

Content Warnings (will be announced by the chapter): Bullying based on quirk, discrimination based on quirk, knives, character death, suicide. Let me know if I missed any.

Kai was staring at his feet in front of the dojo Katherine and Sunē attended. The two girls stared back, bags slung over their shoulders and mouths open.

“Why?” Sunē asked into the silence. Katherine couldn’t figure out what to say. She just stood staring at her childhood friend.

“They found out I was teaching you guys too. They said that I couldn’t train if I kept passing off their secrets to you guys.”

“But Kai… we were supposed to be heroes together,” Katherine finally got out, tears stinging her eyes. Kai looked up, fists clenched.

“If I don’t do this, none of us will get to be heroes in the first place!” he yelled. “Everyone knows Sunē’s just a villain waiting to happen, and you encourage her! Plus your quirk isn’t suited for heroics, and you know it! Why else would you be here, learning self defense?”

“Kai, that’s enough!” Sunē jumped in as Katherine stood shocked. “If you don’t want to be our friend anymore, then go.” Kai huffed in frustration and turned away, walking back to his house. Once he turned a corner, Katherine started crying.

She had known Kai almost since the cradle. They were going to be heroes together, that was the plan. But now, just a few months before they’d start testing to get into high school, he’d decided she was dead weight. She and Sunē both.

Sunē embraced her best friend, and Katherine felt her own shoulder grow wet. It was just them now. They’d have to make it alone.

After a few minutes of crying, Sunē pulled away, wiping her eyes. Her nose was a little runny, and her eyes a tad puffy. Her snakes were nuzzling against her cheek to comfort her.

“Come on. We can train without him.” Katherine nodded, pulling herself together and walking towards the park with her best friend. Exhausted as they were from training at the dojo, the two still trained as hard as possible, Katherine stretching her voice until she could barely speak and Sunē turning objects into lizards and snakes and then back again.

After two hours, the girls headed home, leaving each other with a tight hug and a wave. Katherine watched Sunē walk away. She looked so small and alone. As if the barest wind would tip her over to shatter in the road.

Katherine went silently into her empty house. Her mother was doing a small scene today, and probably wouldn’t be back until late. Her father was supposed to be gone for another three days, serving out of town for the week. Katherine fixed herself a small supper of ramen, barely having to look at the cutting board as she sliced vegetables and chicken for the soup.

She went into her room, practicing with her knives. She could control several at a time, now, and she’d send them flying down the hall or out the window as she pleased. She was careful to never hit anything with them, and kept the knives quite dull as an extra precaution.

It was about an hour and a half later that she stopped practicing, dizzy from lack of iron. That was the drawback of her quirk: she used the iron in her blood to make her blades, and the larger the blade the less she could reabsorb. Because of this, she tried to keep her diet high in iron.

Katherine reabsorbed the knives, and some of the iron she’d used to make them, and took a shower. She was sweaty and tired after an emotionally taxing day. She wanted to ease the cramps in her muscles and wash away the day with hot water before she went to sleep.

That night, Katherine dreamed of a dark room. She stood in her school uniform, and classmates stood in a circle around her. They were all pointing or laughing or whispering. At least, they would be if they were moving. They were all still as statues.

“Why?” someone asked. Katherine spun around, but in the dark the voice seemed to come from everywhere.

“Who’s there?” Katherine called, still spinning to see if any of the statues moved.

“Why do you hide? You could stop this all. They would never torment poor Sunē again. All you’d have to do is stop hiding,” the voice continued, as if Katherine had never spoke. Sunē appeared before Katherine in the circle, smiling brightly.

Katherine continued searching for the voice. As she spun, she saw her parents in the crowd, looking oh so pleased. She stopped, looking at the pride on their faces.

“Ah, yes. Them,” the voice said. Katherine heard gentle clinking, and looked to see dozens and dozens of knives beginning to circle her classmates and parents. They started slow, but quickly picked up, more and more adding to the mass until Katherine stood in the center of a cyclone of knives.

Katherine saw her parents’ faces turn from pride to disappointment. She could have sworn the knives laughed as they swirled. And then they began to close in on the circle of people.

The knives began to cut through the circle of students, and suddenly they were all alive, screaming and bleeding. Katherine tried to get control of the knives, but the more she tried to slow them the faster they swirled. She watched in horror as her parents were sliced to ribbons before they had the chance to scream. She watched as Sunē looked on, still smiling as she was cut into nothing but strips of flesh.

The knives continued to spin, circling closer and closer to her. She was overwhelmed, and felt like she was burning with fear. As the knives began to slice into her, she fell to her knees and screamed. The heat inside her was too much, and blue flames flooded from her eyes and mouth, burning her as her knives sliced her now charred skin. All she knew was the sound of the knives clanking together and pain that wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t-

Katherine jolted awake in her bed. It was six in the morning, and she could hear her mother digging through pots and pans downstairs. She felt off, her throat and joints sore and her head stuffed with cotton. She wandered downstairs to see her mother.

“Oh, Katherine! I’m sorry, did I wake you?” her mother asked as she reached the kitchen. Her mother had a mixing bowl out and a pan on the stove. Katherine shook her head and rubbed her eyes.

“No, Mom. You didn’t. What’re you making?” Katherine’s mother walked over and gave her daughter a good morning hug.

“I’m making pancakes, since I stayed out so late yesterday. I know your father makes them better than me, but I hoped it might make up for you having to make dinner for yourself last ni- Star, are you alright?” Katherine looked up as her mother pulled away, a worried expression on her face.

“Yeah, just tired, why?”

“You feel hot. Come here, let me check your temperature.” Katherine’s mother placed a hand on her daughter’s forehead and cheek, comparing the two. She seemed unsatisfied and turned to a cupboard above the dishwasher.

“You have a fever, star. I’m going to call the school and let them know you won’t be in today. Here,” Katherine’s mother handed her a bottle of tylenol, “Take two pills with water and then go lay down. I’ll bring you up some pancakes when they’re done.”

Katherine and Sunē sat in the park, holding three letters each. They were from three different schools, the three the girls had tested to get into. They hadn’t held out enough hope to get into U.A., not with their quirks and what people thought of them. But they had still tried for the hero course together.

“On three. Ready?” Sunē said. Katherine nodded, clutching the first envelope tightly.

“One, two… three!” The girls tore open the first letters, briefly scanning before opening the next one. Then the next. Sunē’s face grew excited with the last envelope. Katherine’s continued to fall.

“I got accepted into the Tokyo General Hero Course!” the snake haired girl exclaimed. Her snakes whipped around, full of excitement that Katherine wished she could share.

“I… I got accepted into the General Course. None would take me in the Hero course.” Sunē reached over and patted her best friend’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. We can go and try to appeal your case, ask them to reconsider! Then we could go together!” Katherine shook her head. She would have to reveal her quirk for that, and she refused to disappoint her family.

“They won’t… not with my quirk.” Katherine looked up at her Sunē. Even after all these years, she thought those eyes were the most mesmerizing thing.

“You’re gonna have to be a hero for both of us, Sunē. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep up,” Katherine said, with a sad smile. Sunē pulled Katherine into a hug, and they squeezed each other tightly. They knew if they weren’t in the same course at the same school, they’d probably never see each other except on weekends that they could make time.

“You promise you’ll call, right? And text?” Sunē asked. Katherine laughed and nodded without hesitation.

“Of course! Every night! You’re my best friend, I would never cut ties like that,” Katherine assured. She squeezed Sunē tighter, and Sunē squeezed in turn. Before the girls knew it, they were in a squeezing war, rolling on the ground and trying to hug the other tightly enough that the other would let go. 

It was sunny out, but still chilly in the early spring air. The dew on the grass cooled them and soaked through their shirts a bit. They giggled, squeezing and rolling and staining their clothes with grass. It felt like the moment would never end.

“She was my best friend,” Katherine said at the funeral. She stood before an open casket, but couldn’t look at it. She couldn’t stand seeing her friend’s snakes so deathly still. Or the smile that seemed pasted on to her best friend’s face. Or those gorgeous eyes closed forever. Worst of all, she didn’t want to see the rope burns from the noose Sunē tied.

“We were going to be heroes together. I don’t think now that I ever could have been, but Sunē could have. She had more drive than I’ve ever seen in anyone.” Katherine swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked over the small crowd of people, mostly Sunē’s family. Kai hadn't shown up.

“People thought Sunēkuai was a villain because of her quirk. They never saw the determined, powerful person that we all knew and loved. They never recognized her potential, something she had in abundance. She used it to push through, to try and reach her dream. She inspired me, in a way that no hero ever did, to keep trying. To keep fighting. I wish I could have done the same for her.”

Katherine went back to sit with her family. They had never approved of Sunē, but when they found Katherine sobbing in bed after hearing the news they never questioned going to the funeral. Sunē’s parents had asked Katherine to speak at the funeral, knowing how close the two had been, and she felt equal parts honored and torn apart.

She cried again that night, considering following her best friend. Katherine didn’t think she could get through another two years of high school without those constant late night talks with Sunē. Who’s house would she go over to, when she felt too stifled by her own parents? Who would confide in her, and who would she confide in? Who would make her believe that anything was possible?

[solar-sunnyside-up]

Op im so sorry but im about to go off here-- but this is something that has pissed me off for ages so imma explode here!!

K so ive seen plenty of ppl criticize this, and it seems just very arrogant to how subcultures (punk circles in particular but even regular ones) are formed and function!! And it makes my anthropology/sociology brain so FUCKING MAD!!!

There is ultimately a difference between cultivating these things In-person and Online!! Online can fast track certain things but other areas are lost and the lost or delay of those things due to the fact they are in online spaces does not INVALIDATE THEM JEEZE

Riot Grrl (1990s) formed rapidly due to branching off of a v particular subculture that already had aesthetics and praxis elements established. Similar to how Fanfic where things are already established so we can do new shit without needing to introduce you to the concept first things like lace code and Pit etiquette where brought over and altered slightly to adapt to the new space and ideology. And dont get me started on Kinderwhore or those branch of things omg,, firstly i love yall and secondly, like,,, yeah these things burst out of seamlessly no where and then fell into the background pretty quick as it got reabsorbed into larger culture or died down as a result of burnout or in particularly Riot Grrrls case the acknowledgement of it not being as inter-sectional as it would like to be but since the ppl who founded it couldnt change that themselves but being in the majority, just shut the whole thing down

Mall Goth’s (also late 1990s) branched off of Romantic and Victorian styles of Goth but where put into a different environment and adapted to the era and environment they where apart of, and added their own values into that space. This died off from popularity as the Mall itself, died. 

Lolita  (late 1970s-1990s) evolved from a pre-existing culture that had taken an obsession of Victorian English stylization but then added on its own praxis of young women being hypersexualized and attempted to invert this expectation paired with the general culture obsession over the idea of the English Gentlemen. After the 1990s it evolved again into what we see with Gyarua culture during the burst bubble of their economy and leaned more and more on DIY stuff as the internet really took off.

A massive thing to note here is only one of these things successful transitioned into an online space before any kind of minor rebuilding in online spaces (and honestly never truly recovered compared to their in person counterparts)

Now to circle back to the main point--- What about Steampunk? Its pretty obvious by its aesthetics and the content of the works written about it and, this is because its had Time To Establish these things, but its obviously the Industrial Revolution. The rapid success and decay of Capitalism and Industry and Science!! And then Steampunk is removing the profit and the class structure that era attempted (and succeeded) in creating. Steampunk is a hopeful version or at least an attempt to recognize What Went Wrong and how it could have been cool and awesome instead. Embodying its ideals! Do you know also when Steampunk first started to become a thing in lit and aes?? 1980s!!! And as someone who came across Steampunk in spaces like Deviant art and anime and online spaces, particularly given the scifi culture of the early 2000/2010s you could make the argument its made a solid transition into online spaces as a result.

What about Solarpunk then?? The earliest thing I can find about someone using the term Solarpunk is in the early 2000s, and can you guess what the closest subculture is??

In North America although Solarpunk originates from Brazil idk bout their cultures enough to establish its origin there so if someone else wants to call to its origins in this space go for it

The closest one I can find to in aes, litl, and practice is Sci-fi and Flower Power!! Ya know from the 1960/70s?? Solarpunk is simply TOO NEW to have all of this established already, we are taking scraps from what our grandparents have managed to tell us and reinventing it in a space that had NO TRANSITION from In-person to Online!!!!! So yeah, its gunna take a while to re-find our aes, praxis, lit, and so on. Chill yall. Its a baby movement comparative to most other cultures running around particularly given the fact that it never transitioned into online spaces until after 2010s (thats a 40 year gap with very little generational overlap btw)

That doesnt answer how its punk-- 

Oh Im sorry, does fighting the government on every level from household structure, relgion and its origin, labor abuse, and war/military, its stance of substance usage, fighting Capitalism and attempting to return to a more natural way of living while educating and creating art not punk enough for you? 

Seeing posts "criticizing" solarpunk for the supposed lack of punk when compared to steampunk is kinda amusing, because as someone who's been into steampunk for around 15 years and solarpunk for 6 years and therefore familiar with both, I don't see how solarpunk has any more or less punk elements than steampunk. It's simply just different aesthetic and different values and that kind of "critique" feels really lazy and juvenile to me.

[socialbrewcoffee]

Everything About Decaf Coffee A.K.A. The Devil’s Blend

Nothing beats a hot cup of coffee for relieving the tension and exhaustion that our hectic lives bring. A few sips of coffee and boom! We're all magically alive. There are two kinds of people in the world. Coffee addicts; those who require caffeine and the pleasant fragrance of that bean juice in the morning to survive. Then there are individuals who do not want, enjoy, or desire coffee. However, this classification excludes a third group: decaf drinkers. Decaf coffee lovers appreciate the flavor of coffee but don't want the energy boost of the caffeine. 

Among decaf drinkers, there are many individuals who’re perplexed as to why they should drink decaf coffee because they believe decaf tastes worse than regular coffee. Plus, there’s also the concern that decaf coffee is chemically processed and has a history of employing hazardous chemicals for the decaffeination process, giving the name a bad connotation.

As an alternative to ordinary coffee, decaffeinated coffee is available at almost every coffee shop. Contrary to common misconception, decaf coffee still contains caffeine, but in considerably lower quantities than normal coffee. If that surprises you, keep reading to learn about the benefits and drawbacks of drinking decaf coffee.

What is Decaf Coffee?

Decaf coffee is derived from coffee beans that have had the majority of their caffeine removed before roasting and grinding. The beans are often treated in organic solvents until all of the caffeine has been absorbed. A standard cup of coffee, for example, has around 95 milligrams of caffeine, but a cup of decaf coffee contains only 2 milligrams of caffeine.

The History Of Decaffeinating 

Ludwig Roselius, a German coffee dealer, devised the first commercially viable decaffeination procedure in 1905. According to Atlas Obscura, one part of the decaf myth suggests that Roselius got a cargo of coffee beans that had been steeped in seawater. Roselius opted to process and test the beans rather than trash them. He discovered that the coffee had been decaffeinated but still tasted like coffee, but a little salty.

The Popular Methods Of Decaffeination

Decaf coffee, like regular coffee, begins as green, unroasted beans. Because it's difficult to extract only the caffeine and none of the other flavor chemicals, the decaffeinated version is typically associated with less palatable coffee and decaffeinated coffee beans are infamously difficult to roast effectively. There are three methods for producing decaf coffee: the Swiss water technique, the carbon dioxide method, and lastly, the methyl chloride process. Here's a quick rundown of each of them.

The Swiss Water Method

This is the process of soaking green coffee beans in water until the water becomes saturated with the soluble components of coffee. Green coffee extract is made by filtering the caffeine out of the water and when this extract is mixed with caffeine-containing green coffee beans, the caffeine "makes its way from the beans to the green coffee extract as the beans and liquid seek balance until the beans are practically caffeine-free."

The Magic Of Methylene Chloride 

Chemical solvents, like ethyl acetate or methylene chloride, are used in the most prevalent techniques of decaffeination. The coffee beans are steamed and then repeatedly cleansed with a chemical solvent to remove the caffeine in this direct technique. The bean-flavored solution is restored to the beans after the caffeine is removed from the water with the solvent, enabling many of the oils and tastes to be reabsorbed.

Benzene was once the preferred chemical until it was shown to be carcinogenic. Companies have now shifted to using different compounds, the most prevalent of which being ethyl acetate and methylene chloride.

The CO2 Method  

The supercritical carbon dioxide technique, as it is known technically, employs carbon dioxide (CO2) to operate as both a gas and a liquid at high temperatures and pressures. This supercritical CO2 enters the cracks of coffee beans as a gas, yet dissolves caffeine as a liquid. The beans are subjected to supercritical CO2 for many hours after they have been soaked in water (which expands cell structures and makes it simpler to extract the caffeine molecules). After the caffeinated CO2 liquefies and evaporates, the beans are processed. There is minimal change in flavor as a result of decaffeination since this approach preserves carbs and proteins. 

The 2 sides Of A Decaffeinated Coffee Bean 

The Pros 

Caffeine has been linked to sleeplessness, heart palpitations, and a variety of other health issues. It is a stimulant, as well as a diuretic and an acidic substance. If you have heartburn, gastrointestinal difficulties, or trouble sleeping, decaf coffee can help you avoid the negative effects of caffeine while still letting you enjoy the goodness of coffee.

Anxiety is a typical adverse effect of coffee. Caffeine can cause jitters, restlessness, and anxiousness. It's crucial to remember, however, that while coffee does not cause anxiety, it might exacerbate symptoms in those who are already anxious. If you suffer from anxiety and consume regular coffee, you might have to consider shifting your choice to decaf before your situation worsens.

The Cons

Some decaf coffees contain methyl chloride, a chemical commonly found in paint strippers. In humans, excessive doses of this chemical can cause severe neurological consequences, and in animals, continuous exposure to this can cause central nervous system effects.

The effects of decaf coffee on cholesterol in humans have been studied in several research pieces. Some claim that it raises cholesterol levels, while others claim it has no impact.  Though the results are inconclusive for the time being, it's better to be safe than sorry.

What Does The Global Market Say About Decaffeinated Coffee?

The global decaffeinated coffee industry was worth USD 1.65 billion as of  2019, and it is likely to increase significantly over the next few years. Buyers are likely to switch to decaffeinated beverages as they are becoming more aware of the potential psychological consequences of caffeine, which is a stimulant ingredient found in regular coffee. Excessive intake of caffeinated beverages has been linked to jitteriness, restlessness, sleeplessness, and raised blood pressure in recent years, according to several health studies. As a result, consumers are spending more on caffeine-free refreshments like decaf coffee.

Here’s a graphical representation of the estimated Decaf Market Size from 2016 to 2027.

A Collection Of The Best Tasting Decaf Coffee Beans And Blends

Decaf Brazil Coffee - Social Brew

Brazil's Santos, a coastal region is recognized for its smooth, delicate, and mellow coffee beans. It's often referred to as a soft coffee since it's delicate and gentle, with just a tinge of sweetness. This decaf is made using the Swiss technique.  To assure you of the premium quality, it's gently roasted a little darker than our medium roasted coffees, which introduces overtones of rich chocolate. If you're a decaf convert, Decaf Brazil from Social Brew is an absolute must-try! Decaf with a Colombian Twist - Savorista

With this decaf blend, you can enjoy all of the complexities of caffeinated coffee as the chocolate and caramel mingle with citrus to make a perfect medium-bodied bean. Breakfast Blend Decaf- Green Mountain Coffee

Get the goodness of a light roast that has notes of sweetness with some playful nuttiness and a clean mouthfeel to finish. No Fun Jo Decaf Coffee

A whole bean decaf coffee blend that's complex and will have you tasting blueberry while offering you the sweetness of milk chocolate. Decaf La Cebia

This mix from Huehuetenango, Guatemala - Central America, features a fruity taste profile with overtones of plum and mandarin, as well as the nutty richness from brown sugar. Decaf Columbia - Trailhead Coffee Roasters

This decaf's balanced medium roast is just what you need when you're too caffeinated. It comes from Oregon and is made incorporating a Colombian sugar cane technique.

Decaf coffee is a softer version of regular coffee, with a mellower flavor and aroma and, of course, less caffeine. It's an excellent alternative for individuals who dislike the sharp hint of bitterness and the pungent odor of regular coffee. However, if you are addicted to coffee and consume more than a couple of cups of coffee a day, switching to decaf coffee could be one of the best solutions to limit caffeine intake while also satisfying the untimely cravings. In the end, it's all about personal choice. 

If you’re exploring the parallel universe of coffee, try Social Brew. An e-commerce coffee company that enjoys bringing the flavor of the world's top gourmet and specialty coffees into the lives and routines of ardent coffee lovers like you. Also, almost half of our proceeds work on supporting the victims of Human Trafficking. Come join us and experience goodness that flows beyond the brim.

[inamindfarfaraway]

I'm sorry but I just stumbled across your Collector Clawthorne AU and I am dying to know what happens after The Collector's powers get unleashed!

Short answer: *gesturing to a board covered in hypothetical (because I can’t draw) fanart and edited The Owl House images of King, the Collector and scattered scenes in the AU connected with multiple colours of string, the title ‘Collector Clawthorne AU’ scribbled on a scrap of paper pinned at the top* Bold of you to assume I’ve planned that far ahead.

Long answer: I have no hard-and-fast overall plot for the AU series, just rough ideas and character arc directions with a few specific moments that I outlined in the previous post. But I do have some speculative thoughts! And having got a few asks about the AU “King’s Tide” now, I think it’s time to try to make something coherent out of them.

So, Belos powers the draining spell with King’s sacrifice, even now that that sacrifice is entirely by force. This draining spell is functionally the same as its canon equivalent, but the mechanics are different. It uses Titan magic, not the Collector’s, the culmination of all Belos’s studies of King and his father. The focal point is not the eclipse, but King himself. Despite valiant attempts to escape and resist (which damage the room and castle enough to create the openings the Collector later uses to reach him), King ends up unconscious and strapped to an operating table anyway. Yes, he is in the crucifixion pose. Yes, Belos recovered the gold ‘crown of thorns’ after it was discarded in “Edge of the World” and put it back on him. And so the draining spell activates.

How He Almost Did It: Witch and Biped Demon Genocide! Featuring a lot of stuff I made up about how magic works in this world!

Coven sigil branding in this AU has used extracted Titan magic all along. Like, the particles of the sigils themselves contain if not King’s DNA, then the ‘signature’ that is to magic as DNA is to physical cells. You know that trope? A person’s signature magic? However, the ‘cutting off access to other types of magic’ thing proves that while that is true, they also bind to the branded person’s magic. Magic, especially the living kind, is naturally inclined to return to the being it belongs to, especially if that being could really use some extra magic right now; the same way animals have preprogrammed mechanisms that instinctively fight to stop or at least delay them dying. The sigils’ connection to King has always been dormant and too weak to pick up on anyway. Until now, because Belos uses a special spell to activate it all at once.

He continuously siphons away King’s blood with catheters at a rate calculated to match the rate he replenishes it to suspend him on the brink of death. He is practically one extra lost drop of blood away dying. But his body has just enough strength to desperately draw upon all its physiological and magical ability to stay alive. Meanwhile, the blood is powering the portal.

Oh, hey, what’s this King’s magic is sensing? Loads of his very own magic that can heal him and give him energy scattered around in tiny fragments? He better gather it up and reabsorb it now! And any other magic stuck to it for good measure! Thus the draining spell. But because the sigils bind King’s magic with that of the witch or demon they’re on, the witches and demons have their magic and therefore life energy ripped out of them too. In short, everyone with a coven sigil becomes a battery in King’s forced magical life support.

Once they’re totally dead, Belos will casually pull the plug to prevent King surviving after all that. The ‘King of witches’ suffers, slowly, painfully dies and takes the sin and evil of the people of this world with him - evil is a synonym of being a witch, of course. Belos needs to stay until the covens are definitely drained to kill King and ensure that nothing interferes, with the rebels at large and how delicate King’s position is; and, well, it is so enjoyable to watch the fruits of his labour.

Everything seems doomed and everyone’s about to die. Nobody else knows how the spell works and Belos in his rage-consumed insanity after Luz brands him refuses to stop it. He reasons that if he goes through the portal and shuts it, he’ll be safe from the spell’s effects… but since the portal is right there, he might as well destroy these infernal rebellious brats on his way out.

Enter Collector Clawthorne! The two tablets that can release his power (the Titan Trappers’ one is taped together) have been salvaged and are obviously top priority. Hypothetically, anyone with one of them, the Collector and Titan blood could unlock phenomenal cosmic power, and given Belos’s surplus… yeah, no. Protect at all costs. But Collie aches to be useful in this darkest hour. And it really, really looks like it’s up to them. So he takes the tablets and sneaks away into the castle while Belos is busy rampaging, following the trail of magic, to find some Titan blood.

The only thing other than his reality-warping power that could save the day is just killing King before he unconsciously kills everyone else and for the reasons of being a child, being unwilling to murder someone they like and care about and an intense revulsion toward killing the sole survivor of the genocide they led and are trying to atone for, that isn’t an option. With his full power, he could easily revive King on top of healing the rest of Belos’s victims. This time, he’s going to be a god right. They’re not going to hurt people, deliberately or not. They’re going to help.

A slight problem is Belos is actually careful and diligent about not leaving the greatest power source on the Boiling Isles just lying around, so all of it that’s accessible is in the web of tubes coming out of King and into the portal. Collie chooses to puncture a tube with an ice glyph that freezes it shut almost instantly. He can easily fix it later. This gives them a small splash that leaked out to work with. He performs the ritual. The tablets are propped up opposite each other, Collie standing tall between them and facing King. Igniting a fire glyph wetted with the droplets creates the blue fire spell the Titan Trappers use, or at least an approximation, which they light each tablet with.

Suddenly King’s eyes snap open with a brief red glow. Remember that ‘all samples of his DNA contains his magic and is thus supernaturally connected to the magic in his body and right now that’s active’ thing I invented? Now he’s connected to this hell of a powerful spell more directly than canon King was to the canon Collector and the shock has awoken him. And he is very unhappy to be conscious. He’s bewildered, terrified and in agony. The stress of his tensing is not good for his already weakened body. He and Collie’s eyes are locked.

The flaming tablets rise into the air on either side of the Collector, crack and shatter to open circles of bright light, or rather holes punched in the fabric of reality, that his celestial magic pours out of in a breathtaking sight as Collie reaches out to King - but now King and the Collector’s magic are connected, so it all pours into him instead. These are not normal types of magic inside him, guys. These are the most powerful ones EVER. A Titan is a godlike being in a world where magic is commonplace and the magic of a ‘child of the stars’ is a complete outside-context problem like Bill Cipher is to Earth. Titan blood mixed with an intense, concentrated blast of all the power of an omnipotent god? This is gonna get weird. The blood in the tubes glows up into King’s veins, there’s a blinding flash of light and a chilling scream.

The good news is, King is rejuvenated and them some! The bad news is, he basically got the magic equivalent of a radioactive spider bite a millionfold, so while he feels fine and even has new superpowers, he nonetheless still has… you know, radiation poisoning. The cool news is he gets a new outfit, a starry dark blue hooded cloak that looks like it’s cut from the night sky and ripples on its own. The uncool news is, the draining spell is still going because as he was healed by an utterly incomprehensible and alien mechanism King’s magic doesn’t register him as okay - like, all that blood remains outside him. Collie is relieved he’s not overtly dying, but concerned. They knows their magic is Different and though happy it’s in the hands of a good person, he isn’t sure even a Titan will be able to handle it without losing control or accidentally dissolving themselves or something. King however dismissively says they have no time to worry or figure out exactly how this works.

Meanwhile, Luz and co. are battling Belos! It’s not going well. Belos rears up and brandishes his scythe arm -

when it’s caught by an absolutely fucking livid King. “King! What are you doing?” He smiles bitterly. “Saving the Boiling Isles, just like you always said I would.” As if teleporting here wasn’t demonstration enough of his level-up, he deletes his crown from existence and smashes Belos to pulp against the wall with a flick of his finger. The teens are caught between celebratory, confused and alarmed. The alarm wins out when King feels a sudden flare of pain, his eyes glow red and shooting stars spark off him, warping the ground where they land. Collie catches up and grounds him. He realizes to their horror their hypothesis was right - King’s body is rejecting the foreign magic and the two types are having an internal war. Hunter is especially frightened of losing his big brother figure. King insists he’s fine and that they leave things to him. Surprise surprise, the kid raised specifically to be a dark Jesus Christ analogue has a messiah complex.

He stops the draining spell by overriding his Titan magic with his new power. The good news is, it works! The bad news is, King does indeed lack control and unleashes the Collector’s magic across the Isles; it begins to twist and mutate the landscape to be wilder, more chaotic, even operating on fluid laws of physics like a dream, akin to the original Wonderland. It’s like a virus making a video game glitch out. King burns up with uncontainable, raw eldritch energy, physical form glitching disturbingly too, and has a breakdown over how he might actually doom everything anyway despite his change of heart and also nearly getting murdered by and in turn murdering the man who raised him that day and generally all his truckloads of unprocessed trauma. The Isles grow more nightmarish in accordance with his mental state. More Weirdmageddon than Wonderland. The Titan’s skull cracks apart as the magic, attuned to its hosts surging emotions, completely overwhelms his son’s rationality.

Luz uses vines to hold the portal together, intending to let everyone else go through to safety when King cannot be calmed down. But Collie refuses. They believe this new mess to be their fault for not figuring out the draining spell in spite of his knowledge of and skill at magical theory and not foreseeing what he would do to King, and he will. Not. Let. His power. Be an instrument of destruction and suffering again. They know it better than anyone, maybe they can help King master it! Or get it out of him! They can’t abandon King and the Boiling Isles, but they can keep Luz safe. Apologetically, he uses a glyph combination he devised in an earlier episode to blast Luz through the crumbling portal with a gust of wind.

And that’s “King’s Tide!” Ta-da! *sobs because it’s so sad and I only have myself to blame for creating this AU*

[mallowstep]

(nature; nurture)

You know the truth of yourself in pieces.

* * *

You are three, sitting on your mother's lap.

"And you understand this is a life-long commitment?"

"Yes," she says.

"And Mothkit, Frogkit, and Hawkkit, do you want Feathertail to be your mother?"

"She is our mama," Hawkkit says, and the woman laughs.

"That settles it, then."

* * *

Growing up is not a balloon inflating, the way you once pictured it. It is a crab moulting over and over again, exposing its softest parts, in hopes it survives.

* * *

You are the first to go to kindergarten. Only by a few minutes, but still. That feels like it counts for something.

You kiss your mother's cheek, and then drop your bag. A man crouches down beside you. "And what's your name?"

"Mothkit!" you say, and he shows you where to put your bag. You glance back at your mother as you venture deeper into the classroom. She wipes a few tears from her eyes.

* * *

Unlike a crab, you cannot reabsorb what you lose. Your teeth are collected in a box, exchanged for a few quarters, occasionally a dollar. Your hair is swept up and thrown away. You go shopping, and now there are two sections you have to examine. One for you, one for your brothers.

* * *

Stormheart picks you up for school, and no one is waiting in the passenger seat. You all climb in, and you end up stuck in the middle.

"Where's Mama?" you ask.

"She's at home," Stormheart says. He glances back at you for a second, smiling. "She's just having a bad day."

You kick off your shoes at the door when you get home, dropping your bag on the kitchen table. Your brothers are slower, but you peek through the crack in her door before Stormheart catches up with you.

She's asleep, not facing you. Mistyfoot is on the other side of the bed, reading a book.

Stormheart scoops you up. "Come on, bug," he whispers. "Let's go play outside."

* * *

But your soft parts stay the same, just growing between each exchange. You ask her about your father many times, and her answers drift, circling around a truth you want her to finish. You slip into her room after having a nightmare, and find her sobbing. You make a family tree, and stare frustrated at the missing names.

* * *

You follow her out to the garden. Frogpaw spends more time out here than you do, but you're bored, and your mother is here, digging tiny troughs into the earth.

You cross your legs on the grass beside her. She smiles at you. "Are you going to stay out here?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want a hat?"

"No." The sun is warm, and you lean down, your elbows pressing into the dirt. "What are you planting?"

"Poppies," she says. "Do you want to help?"

You shake your head. Feathertail takes a handful of sandy dirt, and pours the bag of seeds onto it.

"Mama?" you ask, and she lifts her brow. "What's assault?"

Feathertail pauses what she's doing, and looks questioningly at you. "Where'd you hear that?"

"It was on a TV show." You fidget with blades of grass. "I wasn't really watching."

Feathertail sighs. "It's -- when you hurt someone," she says. "When you attack them."

* * *

But you are not a crab. You are a girl, and you are changing. Your father sends you a letter and asks you if you're a help to your mother. You grapple with the undeniable proof he's in prison, like she explained a year or two ago. You shoot up past your brothers over the summer, and have to buy new clothes. A new garment comes with it. Feathertail cleans a few things out of a room you can't think of as hers, and it becomes yours. Your soft parts move, find new places in need of protection.

* * *

Sometimes, you want to explain everything to Leafpaw, all in one breath. You want to say, My mother didn't give birth to me, but I know who did, and I was not wanted, except that I was, and my father believes I am capable of nothing, and my period has started, and I don't know what that means, and I think you are beautiful.

You don't say any of that.

* * *

But you are not a crab, so you find traces of your past exoskeletons, the ones that didn't fit. A shirt you wore five years ago. A diary you can barely understand. A folded piece of paper you do not open. They don't make sense with who you are, and yet, they are who you were.

* * *

Shadepelt teaches you how to use make up. Feathertail and Mistyfoot don't wear any, but she does, and she makes it look easy and fun and flawless.

It's much harder when you have to do it.

Hawkpaw and Stonefur arrive home when you are scrubbing it off in the bathroom downstairs. You don't come down here very often, and it is strange to think that this space is a part of your home.

When your face is clean, you trudge upstairs. The air is tense, Hawkpaw and Frogpaw staring across the kitchen table at each other, Feathertail watching them.

"I'm -- allowed to know," Hawkpaw says.

"What do you want to know?" Frogpaw says. "We know everything we need to."

"Maybe you do," Hawkpaw says.

You glance at Feathertail. Her back is to you.

You slide unnoticed into your room, and pull out the stack of letters from your father. You read them all once, exactly, and then add them to the stack you keep in your bottom desk drawer. There's no point in rereading them.

But you run your thumb over them, listening to the way the old, dried paper crinkles.

Frogpaw is asking the wrong question. It's why Hawkpaw wants to know that matters.

* * *

Freshman year draws to a close, and you think you are in your final moult. Leafpaw falls asleep on your shoulder on the way home from a field trip, and you hold hands as you wait to be picked up. You haven't outgrown any clothes in months, and your brothers are now taller than you. You look in the mirror, and realize this will always be the face that looks back at you.

* * *

There is always talk. You try to ignore the worst of it,

("Well, Hawkpaw is a creep," and, "I heard their mother doesn't love them," and, "Bet you can't wait to see your daddy,")

but that's easier said then done.

Leafpaw squeezes your hand. "They don't know what they're talking about," she says.

But they do. That's the problem. They're wrong, but they know what they're talking about.

A junior Mothpaw doesn't know sits beside her at lunch, in Leafpaw's space.

"You should move," Squirrelpaw says.

"No one's sitting here."

"Someone will be."

True to form, as soon as Leafpaw bursts into the cafeteria, she forces herself between Mothpaw and the junior.

The junior rolls her eyes. "I was wondering," she begins, "how you feel about the death penalty."

* * *

There are still old memories you revisit. Feathertail is hospitalized for the third time you can remember, and you log your hours for drivers' ed as you practice making the trip back and forth.

* * *

On Halloween, you take the bucket of candy Feathertail gave the three of you to share and sit on the back porch. Frogpaw and Hawkpaw keep stuffing their faces long after you've finished, and you feel like you're witnessing something obscene.

"I did some math," Frogpaw says. "We were born a month early." He throws a candy bar up, and it lands on his stomach. "Means we were conceived around New Years."

He throws the bar up again, and this time it lands in his hands.

"You ever want to throw a party? Just one. Make a bunch of food for dinner and sit around the table and call all the different dishes courses?"

"What the hell are you saying?" Hawkpaw asks.

"I think i'm just saying something," Frogpaw says. "I think I'm just hoping if I say enough things, I'll find the right thing to say.

* * *

You get your license. It says your name on the card, Mothpaw, daughter of Feathertail, and ask for permission to drive the car.

You don't have a plan for where you're going, and you end up in front of a cathedral.

* * *

The stress of junior year threatens to break you. College applications loom, your classes grow teeth, and you start to bicker with Leafpaw over petty things.

You read over the essay requirement for colleges, and think about what kind of essay you could write. Because there's really only one story worth telling, and it feels wrong, to type out all of your family to a stranger.

It makes you glad you started early. "My mother was fourteen when we were born," you write, and then scratch out. "My father is alive. We know who the other is. I've never met him," you write, and then erase. "I don't know who I am," you write, and then you keep writing.

* * *

At some point, you decide you don't believe. But. You keep coming back. There is something reassuring in routine. Your family doesn't ask where you are going, and you don't volunteer it. Sunday morning. There's some kind of peace, in having the time to sit and think and be.

* * *

"I think I've messed everything up," Leafpaw says. "I've gone about this all the wrong way, and now, everything is terrible, and this is all my fault, Mothpaw, I'm sorry-"

You kiss her, and then lean your forehead against hers. "We're both at fault," you say. "Besides. Maybe the honeymoon is over. We've got lives to attend."

And Leafpaw, inextricably, is part of that life. You can think of the essays you would've written about her. How her hair looks brown until it catches the sun, and then it shines like red glass. How she stomps when she is excited. How she links arms with you and says you're going shopping until you find your family Christmas gifts.

* * *

They invite you to a class, but it feels strange, knowing you don't believe. How do you say, I am here, and I am not, and I don't think you'd really want me.

You don't. You kneel down and offer a prayer to a god you don't believe in. Maybe it will catch.

* * *

Feathertail listens to you practice your speech.

"I'm so proud of you," she says. "You know that, right?"

You nod. She tells you this often, but something about her tone makes your throat catch. You've outgrown the days when Feathertail's arms could surround you, but even so, you start to cry when she hugs you.

"I love you," you say.

"I love you too," she says. She settles back onto the couch, wrapping her hands around a mug of tea.

This is the truth of who you are. This is what you will always fail to capture. How can you describe how the light streams inside at an angle that you've always known, one that makes the dust swirl through it? How can you describe the books on the coffee table, how each book has been read and loved, not merely thrown there for decoration? How can you describe yourself in any way but being there?

* * *

You meet your father's eyes. You know them. You have seen them in the mirror.

* * *

You hold your diploma in one hand, stopping for a photo. You were the first to enter kindergarten, you were the last to leave high school.

The excited chatter in the air is a reminder of what this day is. You have all bought your final yearbooks, signed names and numbers you won't remember in a few months. You're in it a few times -- Feathertail and Leafpaw delighted in hunting for your every appearance -- and you think, maybe it is okay if you are pieces.

There is something whole and solid that is made of them.

[jlilycorbie]

Oh, I love talking about the world for my fantasy WIP. It started with food.

Really, it started when I was soothing myself by googling the origins of different foods and finding out how far and how fast certain foods travelled and became deeply important to places far from their origins. Like onions and carrots came from Central Asia, cilantro came from the Mediterranean, watermelons came from North Africa, potatoes, tomatoes, and chili peppers came from South America, sunflowers came from North America...

There’s so much more. And a lot of it is horrible, like spices and the Dutch East India Company and the British East India Company. How scarcity is almost always created, not natural.

So I started thinking about how the world would look without created scarcity. Without colonization. Without conversion-based religions. Without xenophobia, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, racism, ableism, capitalism, war, invasion...

And I’ve got this huge, deeply interconnected, wildly diverse world filled with thriving trade and magic, and the world itself is a mildly aware genius loci that can and will eat you if you start getting ideas about how those people next door are things you could control or eliminate.

So we get to what happened 20 years ago, when someone accidentally woke up the world and tore a huge wound into it.

Magic is as much a part of the world and all its people as air or water or soil. There are basics nearly everyone learns from their family and community as they grow, and talents and specialties that can be nurtured and learned. Exactly what basics depend a great deal on where in the world you are, as everyone is both shaped by and shapes the world around them. There are academies and universities all over, and they take all students for as long (or as little) as they want to stay. And some studies can be practical, magical, or both, like medicine and healing.

Much like food, there are magics that maybe started in one place, but quickly spread through the whole world, are others that are highly localized. How one culture embraces and nurtures one thing may be very different from how people on the other side of the world treat it (are beans dessert? Savory? For breakfast? Red beans and a lot of other common beans originated in Peru and South and Central America). 

And there are people who are deeply tied to the place where they were born, and people who never feel much connection to their birthplace and leave, and sometimes they find somewhere that feels like home, and sometimes they never settle. And Graenor, a professor at an academy on the taiga, thought he could make it easier for people deeply connected to their home if they could take a literal piece of their home’s magic with them (he did not ask anyone if they were interested in leaving).

In general, people in this world draw magic from the world itself, and when they use it, it’ll slowly percolate back down into the world again. Graenor wanted to interrupt this and take the magic drawn from the world and store it for later use. Instead, he essentially opened a tap he couldn’t close--think aiming to draw a single drop of blood and wildly overshooting and opening an artery. And he made it so the world couldn’t reabsorb the magic he took from it.

Because he took the magic from the land itself, he uprooted the entire taiga, and left behind nothing. Starting at the academy, everything crumbled to dust, all of the way to the bordering steppe, tundra, desert, and ocean. The river that once ran through the heart of the taiga out to the ocean diverted, running along a border between steppe and nothing.

Many people and animals managed to flee. Many more didn’t. And all the world itself wants is to forget, so it made all of the people forget, too. And every year, the steppe, the desert, and the tundra creep inward as the wound heals, and someday, every hint of the people and culture who lived there will disappear completely.

20 years after Graenor accidentally erased his homeland, Zaya found a map in her home that shows a country called Djaetyrot. No one’s heard of it. Her home is filled with the signs and belongings of someone she loved and can’t remember, so she’s set out to find answers.

She doesn’t know she’s done this before. She did it with her wife many times, until they got separated for too long and forgot each other. Zaya could go home and forget she ever left, but her wife forgot Zaya, forgot their home, forgot everything, and couldn’t find her way back, or even remember there was anywhere to return to.

Zaya’s from Castravandt, a mountainous region of farming and herding people know for its monsters. Castravi people are typically brown skinned and dark haired, and they usually have pointed ears. Zaya is half Castravi and half Gabramoian, and she’s got darker skin like her mother. Castravi dragons are the biggest in the world, and the mountains are also full of rocs and unaguls: giant carnivorous goat birds with venomous spurs. Zaya comes from a long line of monster hunters, and she met her wife, Miyarki, when she was showing off trying to take on two dragons that had settled in a mountain pass and were picking off caravans.

Zaya thought she could impress the pretty lady in the caravan by taking down two dragons alone, but she was mortally wounded in the process, and Miyarki did save her life--but only so she could yell at her about needlessly killing those poor dragons, couldn’t she see the male’s wing membranes were damaged, he and his mate were probably only picking off people because they were easy prey until he healed, and if his mate was sticking with him, they probably had a clutch of eggs, and Zaya had better help her find those eggs so they could save them.

Miyarki was an animal healer, so she could save Zaya’s life in a pinch, but making her crawl through the mountains to retrieve dragon eggs left Zaya fevered and delirious, so Miyarki got her home and nursed her back to health. Miyarki was from Djaetyrot. Her mother was from the tundra, and her father from the taiga. Most of the people from the taiga tend to be very pale, but Miyarki is darker like her mother, and the people from both the tundra and taiga tend to have red hair, pointed ears, and vertical slit pupiled eyes. Miyarki had been on her way to Gabramoia, so Zaya went with her to release the baby dragons when they were ready, and they she accompanied her over the mountains and to the jungle. They’d never gotten close, but parted on good terms.

Zaya’s mother was from Gabramoia, and she’d always been curious about the place, so Zaya hung around for a while to learn about casting barriers and wards, and she and Miyarki ran into each other again and became friends. But Zaya finished her studies well before Miyarki, so they parted ways.

What neither of them knew was that while Miyarki was in Gabramoia, Graenor accidentally destroyed Djaetyrot. Miyarki just...didn’t feel an urgent need to return home, so when she finished her studies, she went to visit Zaya, and she ended up staying.

Until the day they woke up to a stranger in bed. 

They managed to rebuild their relationship, and they found Miyarki’s map to what had been her home, and so they set out to find out what happened. And forgot what they were doing and went home, and did it again, until Zaya was alone and found the map.

This time, Zaya’s headed out onto the steppe, where she meets Huudzairen, unicorn antelope centaurs. The Huudzairen live in ciraeg, or herds, and the ciraeg she meets build a tent city on the river in the middle of the steppe every year. The steppe’s seasons are freeze, flood, flower, and fire. Late in flood season, Ciraeg Miren finds the place to start Mirenghot for the year, and it quickly grows into the biggest city on the steppe, a vibrant trading hub where people from all over meet until late flower season, when they take down the whole city. Other ciraeg do things like tend the steppe’s springs and wells or monitor fires or escort caravans. They tend to both trade for food and wildcraft what the steppe has to offer rather than formally farming.

Zaya’s mount, Scavats, is an unagul she hatched and raised with Miyarki. He’s a white and black ram rooster who mostly wants scritches, and while they were travelling on the steppe, Scavats caught a stray juvenile zaigen, a unicorn antelope from a herd Ciraeg Miren tends. This deeply offends the Huudzairen who catch them, and they demand a blood price from Zaya. When they find out about her map, they decide she can pay the price by helping someone they know.

Aleksani is one of the few people left in the world who knows exactly what happened to Djaetyrot because she was there. Her mother assisted Graenor, and Aleksani has dedicated her life to restoring what he destroyed. She knows the world is healing the wound he left behind, so there’s only so much time left before there’s nothing left to save. 

Graenor had another assistant, Tsinte. Aleksani assumed she died along with Graenor and her mother, but 20 years later, she found Tsinte wandering through the Tsaltich Pass, and she lost her. So she could use the help of a skilled hunter.

Especially since Tsinte disappeared into the Nyctine Forest, a dense forest in the Nyctine Mountains where the Padanche people live. The Nyctine Forest is openly hostile to outsiders, bordered by impassable thorny briars and filled with sharp flint and tricky, uneven ground. The Padanche are some of the most isolated people in the world, and keep mostly to themselves in close-knit communities bonded deeply to different animals. They live in risongs or groves, where enormous, ancient trees have been grown and trained into their homes. Tsinte finds herself among the Kopaulinok Folk, where the people are closely tied to giant spider otters--eight legged, six eyed, venomous otter-like creatures marked like peacock spiders. They manage wild herds and wildcraft the forest around them for food, and they’re especially good at preserving foods by smoking them.

The Nyctine Mountains are also home to the Loghani people, who live inside the mountains. They light their homes with intricate murals painted with bioluminescent funguses and lichens and phosphorescent stones. They’re particularly skilled at pickling and fermenting foods, and they also are very good at maintaining and diverting water through their caves, which helps provide sanitation for the big city on the other side of the Nyctine Mountains.

Tsalta is one of the biggest, most diverse cities in the world. It’s a port city built vertically into the cliffs, and in addition to being known for its thriving trade, its known for the climbing gardens and goat and chicken populations that all the people take part in caring for and that help keep all the people fed. 

The river that ran through Djaetyrot started from snowmelt in the peaks of the Nyctine mountains. The water flows through Tsalta and out to the sea, and it also flows down the other side of the mountains, through the Nyctine Forest, across the Alinay Steppe, and once upon a time through Djaetyrot to the sea. It’s possible that if Graenor chose to take magic from the river instead of the land, the devastation he caused could have been far, far worse. 

There are more parts of the world I know about but don’t get to explore in this WIP. There are merfolk in the oceans, who live and work closely with people who have built floating cities. There’s an archipelago with feathered pigs that taste like tuna, and the people live in homes made from living vines carefully woven together to make walls and ceilings. There are desert people in Rinjea, known particularly for its flowers. There’s a whole other side to the world that’s not even mentioned.

And I haven’t even gotten into things like death rituals in the different places. People in Castravandt are enclosed in shallow caves in the mountains. The Huudzairen place their dead on platforms that are allowed to burn during fire season. The Padanche take their dead high in the mountains, where they’re eaten by wild animals, and then they take the skulls back and place them in nooks in the walls of their homes that the trees eventually grow over. The Loghani have crypt chambers in the mountains, and people in Tsalta are usually buried at sea. 

The Nyctine Mountains are full of dragons, but unlike Castravi dragons, these are tiny, they can properly fly instead of gliding, and rather than being usually a single color, their wings are marked almost like butterfly wings. There are also chikerhu, cat-sized squirrels that are brightly colored like a sunset. 

There’s so much more, but I’ve been sitting up far too late spilling everything I can think of about this world because I really love it a lot.

Tell me about your World, Lore, and WIP

You, yes you, internet strange and or tumblr mutuals. I want to hear about your writing and the stories you're currently making. That said, I don't want to hear the elevator pitch; I want to hear the weird stuff. I want to hear about what is unique in your setting, the really out there stuff that needs a wall of text to explain.

Bonus points if you hit me with atleast one sentence I can use out of context to sound truly deranged.

[reading-wanderer]

Ectober Day 13: Void

Something’s missing, and it’s not just the candles.

Ectober Masterlist

Lightning flashed across the sky, throwing light across the floor, followed quickly by a clash of thunder. “Where did I put the candles,” Vlad grumbled as he shuffled boxes around in the north tower storage room, “I need to get more stuff. Just put a storage room full of emergency gear on every floor. It’s not like I don’t have the space for it. Or the money.”

“Noted,” his doppelgänger commented from the other side of the room as he shuffled through his own pile of boxes. The second clone, down in the kitchen cooking dinner, wrote it down on the to do list. “At least the kitchen’s ectoplasmic generator is working,” clone one commented idly.

“I would prefer if all the generators were working,” Vlad shot back, tossing another box full of random papers off to the side.

“We knew that most of the initial designs were likely to fail,” the clone pointed out, grabbing the box of papers and moving it to the back of the room.

“Yes,” Vlad sighed, “but I had hoped that there would be— why am I talking to myself.” The clone shrugged. The two went silent once more as Vlad shoved boxes around more aggressively as he tried to bury the fact that he had just been talking to himself like a crazy person— even if he was effectively split into three bodies.

Two bodies. He reabsorbed clone one as the clone in the kitchen finished cooking dinner. Going intangible, Vlad darted down through the floor. Despite the wet heat of the summer storm, he still sighed with relief upon reaching the kitchen and getting blasted in the face by the combined heat of the oven and the space heater he had moved in from his bedroom. His newfound sensitivity to cold was by far the most annoying part of his ghost half. According to Skulker he’d likely “grow out of it” as his core got stronger, but for now it was an almost constant problem.

He reabsorbed his other clone with a sigh, shifting back to human form and settling in at the seat his clone had set up at the island. Baked chicken and steamed asparagus with butter and black pepper sat ready and waiting while his space heater was practically hugging his leg. It was… nice.

He had been planning to light up the dining room with candles— no point in having the room if he didn’t use it. The sight would likely be amazing combined with the darkness and lightning outside, but… maybe it was better this way. After all, that table was meant for large groups of people. There was no point in further emphasizing the void in his life.

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

OCTOPATH AU???? :EYES:

*spins my chair to my computer

So I’m done with my things so let’s talk about it! Mainly about the character plots because the idea just came to me at 2 AM.

There’s going to be 2 groups for this au, one group is basically in the kingdom itself while the other is venturing towards the kingdom, eventually they do get to meet up and become one singular group.

This is going to be the first group, venturing towards the kingdom.

So let’s start off with George and Sapnap. George is the king of the kingdom we’re going to call...SMP because of course. Dream, George, and Sapnap are all best friends and Dream and Sapnap are the knight’s in shining armor who protect George. Eret is George’s next in line for the throne.The kingdom was flourishing, everyone is happy, and nothing seems to be wrong.

That all changed when all of a sudden the castle was attacked by mercenaries. The knight’s tried to fight them off as best as they can but it was too much. George had to flee and Sapnap went with him. Dream was separated from the other two. Eret is also separated but prompted to hide in the capital itself.

So Sapnap and George are on the run and are looking to reclaim George’s throne after receiving news that someone has been crowned king. They don’t know who it is but rumors has it that they are cruel and seemed to be obsessed with power. (Wink wink, I am totally not referring to the Green Man.)

Quackity is basically someone who is a Bard/Merchant who just wanders around and he just tries to get by. Whether most of the things he does is not exactly legal is his own business and no one else’s. He still cracks jokes and stuff but he does build his walls higher when it comes to trust and friends due to bad memories with Schlatt.

So he is wandering around when he just, finds Sapnap and George fighting off some bandits and he helps because, oh hey maybe he’ll get some free stuff. Sapnap and George thank him and Sapnap impulsively asks if he can help him because George used to be a king and if Quackity helps then they’ll reward Quackity greatly.

Quackity does not trust this, the last person he trusted in authority just ruined everything he cared about (L’Manberg’s flag in flames. The revolution failing. Schlatt calling him Flatty Patty and laughing as he runs away) but he is running low on supplies so he helps them reluctantly. 

Karl on the meanwhile joins the group after some failed quests to get recognized and such. He craves attention and he is sick of being ignored by everyone. He is striving to be a knight but he isn’t exactly the best at combat. 

Then he hears about this group and a former king trying to regain his crown in there. He practically begs the three of them to let him join and prove his worth. He needs to show that everyone is wrong and that he is important enough to be in history.

Sapnap objects to this but Quackity and George are cool with it, with George pointing out that they need as much allies as they can. Sapnap then goes and just trains Karl and whoops, now he’s attached to him. How did that happen?

(It getting long so I’m going to put group 2 on the bottom)

Eret in the kingdom is just trying to figure out who went and sent those mercenaries against them. They know that there isn’t much enemies they know about and they just go and sneak around to try to find clues on how this happened. They have no idea who the current king is as they are a recluse but they did make the kingdom basically become a police state. They also do not know if George made it out alive.

They soon gathers enough info to find out about somebody named JSchlatt, the president of Manberg. The info doesn’t tell him much but it does say something about a deal being made by the current king. So off they go to find people who knew of Schlatt and the first person they find is Fundy.

Fundy is looking for Tommy, Tubbo, and Wilbur. He knows that Tommy and Tubbo has fled somewhere into the capital but Wilbur could be anywhere. Eret tries to recruit him due to them seeing how he handled the guards in the square but Fundy declines it. Fundy remembers Eret, he remembers how they betrayed L’Manberg

So Eret went and used his former royal status and struck a deal saying that if Fundy helps Eret find the guy who did this and helps reclaim the kingdom, that they will provide resources to help him find Wilbur. It’s something Fundy wants and it isn’t honestly not that bad. They have to reunite to fight a bigger bad and then they can go back to being enemies after this.

So Fundy agrees to this and Eret has now one person added to their group. Fundy however, does not go and say anything about the state of Manberg and the revolution because at the moment, these two kingdoms are enemies and they absolutely hate each other.

Last thing they need is for the king of the SMP to go and reabsorb L’Manberg back into the kingdom.

Niki then joins the group after Fundy recognizes her and they reunite and she is full on ready to get L’Manerg back. She told Fundy that the country really has went downhill ever since the revolution failed and that everyone is pretty much suffering there. 

She hid in the capital of the SMP kingdom thinking it is a safe place to just regroup and figure out what to do next only to find out that it has become a police state after the dethroning of George.

Eret welcomes her and Fundy and Niki are both surprised because, “Aren’t the SMP and Manberg supposed to be enemies?” And Eret says yes, they are enemies, but George was actually considering on having the two of them become allies due to the respect he has after seeing them fight and because of the fact that they really wanted to make amends with L’Manberg.

Fundy and Niki actually believes them because they saw how Eret is really trying to change and such. So they believe in them and trust them.

Mr TommyInnit then joins and after a few months as DepressedInnit missing Tubbo and Wilbur and all of his friends, he is absolutely thrilled to see Fundy and Niki again. He is at first a bit peeved that Eret is there but after some time he does trust Eret again.

Tommy explains that Tubbo went and disappeared one day and Tommy couldn’t go look for him ever since the increased security of the capital. Everyone just sees this sad child crying about how he feels like Tubbo’s disappearance is his fault and just comforts him.

Tommy then after some thinking decides to join the group and god it is nice to be around people again.

Group 1 is just basically an arsonist, a shitposting duck-hybrid bard, a wannabe hero, and a former king who does not set his alarm clock right. 

Group 2 is basically a badass baker, a furry, an angry child, and a bisexual king.

Both of these groups become found family and are disasters. And when they meet up, they become more of a family and bigger disasters. They have braincells but they don’t use it most of the time.

I’m going to flesh out the final bosses for each of the characters but some may be shared due to the fact that Karl and Niki has no rivals that I can think of. Anyways this post got long. Send me some late 7:00 asks about the au if you want.

[teacupfulofstarshine]

LOVELY, DARK, AND DEEP: CHAPTER 6

cw: mentions of existentialism, nonspecific discussions of death/the afterlife, minor angst, brief moment of panic

chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // read it on ao3! 

word count: 6784

“What is that?” 

Virgil looks up, lunch hanging out of his mouth. “Wh’s wh’?” He tears off a bite of his sandwich, chews, and swallows. Logan watches him intently from his shallow tank the entire time. “What’s what?” 

“That thing you are consuming.” 

“It’s a sandwich.” 

“That is nonsensical,” Logan says, frowning. “From what I understand, human digestive systems are far inferior to ours. You require your fish to be consistently heated until all the flavor is gone and you have many other diet regulations that we do not. Yet even we cannot digest sand when it gets in our food. How are you doing so? Explain, please?” 

Virgil gets the sense that he should be slightly insulted by what Logan’s said, but he isn’t. “There’s no actual sand in this, Logan.” 

“Then why is it called a sandwich? Why do humans insist on calling things what they are not? I will never understand . . .”

“I think it’s named after some guy. Some earl or something, the first guy to make a sandwich. So now we call them all sandwiches even though there’s no actual sand in it.” 

“That does not make sense,” Logan says, frowning. 

“Listen, I don’t know what to tell you. You’re right, but I can’t exactly go around and change what a sandwich is called. That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.” Logan makes a confused face. 

“So it is not sand?” 

“No, Logan. It’s not sand.” Logan scratches at the bandages wrapped around his arm, and Virgil swats his hand away. “Hey! What did I say about touching your bandages?” 

“That I should not do that because my wounds could become infected and require a prolonged stay in this miniature human ocean,” Logan recites. 

“And what are you doing?” 

“Touching my bandages.” 

“I’m gonna have to put you in a cone of shame at this rate.” 

“What is a cone of shame?” 

Virgil pulls out his cell phone and taps at the screen until an image of a dog wearing a cone appears. Logan hisses at it when he sees it. “You will not put that on me!” 

“Well yeah, obviously. It wouldn’t stop you from fiddling with your bandages, and I don’t have a cone of shame for you. Plus, it’d fuck with your gills since they’re on your neck.” Logan shudders, reaching up to touch his gills where they lay flat and closed against his neck. Virgil remembers how they’d found him, slumped on the beach and barely breathing, gills pinned shut. “Hey, Lo?” 

“What is it?” 

“I have a question for you.” 

“You have already asked me a question, but feel free to ask another.” 

“Why don’t you have gills on your torso?” 

“I am confused by the word ‘torso.’ Please elaborate?” 

“Patton has gills on his neck, like you, but he also has them here.” Virgil sets his sandwich down and presses his hands to his ribcage, approximately where Patton’s larger set of gills is. “Roman has two sets of gills, too. But you only have one. Why is that?” 

Logan frowns, touching his ribs. “I . . . do not know. Dad and Roman have always had two sets of gills. I have never had gills on my - torso, did you call it? - and until recently I never saw a reason for them. Now, of course, I can see where they may be beneficial . . .”

“So you’ve just . . . never had any gills other than the ones on your neck?” 

“No, I have not.” 

Virgil frowns. “That . . . seems strange . . .” 

“I am sure it is, but I do not have any explanations to offer you.” 

Logan swishes his tail restlessly in the shallow tank, glancing nervously towards the entrance to the ocean cove. Thomas had taken Roman and Patton out hunting earlier, leaving Logan and Virgil to wait around in the lab. “Are you okay?” 

“Just anxious for my pod to return. I find that having them out of my direct line of sight makes me . . . incredibly uncomfortable.” 

“Yeah, I get that.” 

“Virgil?” 

“Hmm?” 

“May I see more of those . . . ‘draws’ that you make, please?” 

“My drawings?” 

Logan’s cheeks flush just slightly, and Virgil has to forcibly stop himself from squealing at how adorable it is. “Yes. I find them . . . intriguing. You create such detailed, lifelike images with a few fancy sticks, and it is aesthetically pleasing. I enjoy them.” 

Now it’s Virgil’s turn to blush. “I - wow, uh . . . thanks, L.” 

“It is no trouble.” 

Virgil picks up his sketchbook and holds it open for Logan with one hand. Logan leans forward to squint at the drawings, tilting his head to the side. “What is this a drawing of?” 

Virgil peers over the sketchbook, trying to figure out what Logan’s looking at. “Oh. It’s the night sky, the stars and stuff.” 

“What is a star?” Logan asks. “What is a sky?” 

Virgil frowns, setting the book aside and reaching for his laptop. “You’ve never seen the sky before? You’ve never seen the stars?  You have to have seen it at some point, right?” He pulls up a photo of the night sky and turns it around to show to Logan. 

“Oh! I know what that is.” 

Virgil hums. “So . . . what do you think that is, then?” 

“It’s the Upper Ocean,” Logan says matter-of-factly. 

“The Upper Ocean?” 

“Yes.” 

“I’ve never heard of that before.” 

“It’s where the Seven Mother Goddesses live.” Logan points to the full moon in the picture. “That’s their palace right there.” Virgil blinks. 

“It’s a what now?”

“It’s the palace of the Seven Mother Goddesses. They live there, in the Upper Ocean. They’re the ones who blessed us with the oceans. Before, there was no water at all, just hard, dry land. The Seven Mother Goddesses took pity on us. They brought a jar of water from the Upper Ocean and spilled it on the land. Everywhere the water touched, an ocean sprung up. They created the oceans for us to live in, and then sprinkled droplets of water over the remaining land so that those who lived there would have lakes and rivers. But all water sources connect back to the oceans, because the water from the Upper Ocean wants to collect back together.” 

“Did these Seven Mother Goddesses stay here?” 

“No. They returned to their palace in the Upper Ocean. They watch over us from up there.” 

“So what are all these, then?” Virgil gestures to the stars. 

“Those are the death palaces.”

“The what now?” 

Logan looks at him as though he’s just asked what two plus two is. “The death palaces. When mer die, our spirits leave the ocean and are carried to the Upper Ocean. Each of those little glowing places in the sky is a death palace, where our spirits spend the rest of their afterlife. They’re at peace.” 

“Oh. So it’s your heaven, basically?” 

“What is a heaven?” 

“Where you go after you die, if you’re good.” 

“You go to the Upper Ocean if you’re bad, too,” Logan says. “But you don’t get a death palace. You just disintegrate. You’re reabsorbed as part of the ocean waters. You stop existing as you.” 

“Damn. That’s harsh.” 

“That is reality.” 

Virgil isn’t in the business of arguing with the metaphysical beliefs of other people, especially merpeople that he’s only just gotten onto good terms with, so he lets it go. Logan continues looking through his sketchbook, periodically making comments as Virgil finishes his sandwich. “Can I try?” 

“The sandwich? I hate to break it to you, but I already ate the whole thing, so . . .”

“Not the sandwich. The draw. I want to try.” 

Virgil blinks. “You - you want to try drawing?” 

“Yes. Is that an issue?” 

“No, not at all! I just - I’m gonna have to go get some supplies. That’s all.” 

“That is fine. I will wait here.”

Virgil puts his sketchbook down and hurries off upstairs, poking around for art supplies that he doesn’t mind sacrificing to this noble and very homosexual cause. He finds a stack of scrap printer paper, some old pencils that don’t produce the good quality graphite, and a stack of towels so that Logan doesn’t drip seawater all over the paper. He’s going to have to prepare Logan to suck at drawing (God only knows he did when he first started) and he’s not really sure how Logan will take it, but he’s going to have to try anyway. 

He returns to the lab to find Logan attempting to heave himself out of the water and onto the floor. “Hey, hey, whoa whoa-whoa-whoa whoa, hey! What’cha doin’ there, buddy?” 

“Attempting to remove myself from the tank. What do I appear to be doing?” Logan hisses in pain when he drags his scraped tail over the edge of the tank, flopping back into the water with a splash that only soaks part of the floor. 

“Agitating your injuries and making your stay in the lab a lot longer than you want it to be?” 

Logan’s tail swishes unhappily, but he doesn’t try and launch himself out of the tank again. “If you don’t wanna draw in the tank, I can move you onto one of the lab tables. You gotta tell me what you want, though. I’m not a mind reader.” 

“I would prefer to be moved onto the table, please. It has become apparent that if you drop the draws into the water, they do not survive.” 

“You got me there,” Virgil sighs. “That’s why I brought the towels. I can move you onto a table, and then we’ll make sure we dry you off thoroughly before you start drawing. Oh, and just a fair warning? You’re probably gonna suck at it at first.” 

“What is . . . ‘suck’?” 

“It means you’ll probably be really bad at it, since you’ve never done it before.” 

“Were you ‘suck’ at it when you first started?” 

“What you meant to say was did I suck when I first started, and yeah. I was terrible. The only reason I’m so good now is because I took a lot of classes and practiced for years. It’s okay if your drawings kinda suck. I’m not gonna judge you for not being good at it.” 

“Good,” Logan says. “I find the idea of you thinking me incompetent distresses me a great deal.”  

Virgil rapidly turns his back to Logan before he spontaneously combusts from the Gay. “Right! Well! I’m just gonna go ahead and wheel that lab table over then!”

“Alright.” 

Virgil drags a rolling table over and locks the wheels, covering the surface in towels. “Are you ready over there?” 

“Yes, I am.” Carefully, Virgil reaches into the tank, and Logan reaches his arms up to loop them around Virgil’s neck. Virgil lets one arm wrap around Logan’s back and slides the other one down to where his tail naturally bends in the middle. He very deliberately does not think about the fact that if Logan were a human with legs, his hand would be dangerously close to his ass right now. 

Virgil quickly drags his head out of the gutter before he can wonder what that would be like. Logan flicks his tail up out of the water, coiling the end to drape around Virgil’s forearm. “Careful!” Virgil yelps, wobbling on his feet and nearly overbalancing. “What if I fall over and drop you?!” 

“You will not,” Logan says, and wow his face is close to Virgil’s. His eyes are wide, and almost eerily luminescent under the fluorescent lights. The midnight-blue scales littered on his face (clustered around his eyes and nose, almost like freckles, like a mask) gleam, twinkling almost like stars, drawing Virgil in. “I have faith in you, Virgil. You will not drop me.” 

“That’s a lotta faith to have in someone you wanted to kill a week and a half ago,” Virgil breathes. Logan smiles, huffing out a soft breath through his nose. 

“You have not dropped me yet, Virgil.” 

Virgil hurries to set Logan on the lab table before he loses his grip.

“You are pulling my hair!” 

Logan pulls his head away, wincing and rubbing his head. Virgil gently sets the towel on the table, setting a hand on his shoulder; it’s absurdly warm, Logan notes. “I’m sorry, Lo. I forgot you’ve never used a towel before. Here, I’ll be gentler this time.” 

The towel comes back, softer this time. Rather than wringing and pulling, it pats and squeezes gently, carefully smoothing his hair and pulling the water away. “There you go,” Virgil says. “All dry.” He smiles, and Logan feels something very strange begin to move in his heart. He leaves the towel draped around Logan’s shoulders and hands him another one. Logan carefully wipes down his arms and hands and torso while Virgil dries his back and tail. 

It’s strange, feeling someone else’s hands on him. Logan is used to touch - he’s used to sleeping intertwined with Roman and their dad, he’s used to play-wrestling with Roman and hugging his dad, he’s used to his dad smoothing his hair out of his face and carefully applying seaweed over injuries from hunting or battles. He’s been touched, of course he has. Still, there’s something strange about the way he feels when Virgil touches him. 

Virgil’s hands have power behind them. Logan knows that at any point, Virgil could snap and hurt him. This isn’t his world, after all; it’s Virgil’s. If Virgil wants to keep him and his pod in this lab for his own sick amusement, there’s very little he or Roman or even his dad could do to stop them. Fear of the humans has been drilled into him since he was a guppy. They have the power to tear his life apart and destroy the pod he’s worked so hard to build. Logan should be terrified. He should be trying to kill Virgil, or at the very least stun him. 

He is not doing either of those things. 

Logan allows himself to grow distracted, slowing down in his towelling of his arms to focus on the way Virgil dries his tail. He applies pressure to soak up the water, but he’s still gentle. He carefully moves the towel so that he’s not pressing on the tender bandaged areas. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, and he worries it with his upper teeth as he works. 

For some strange reason, Logan can’t stop staring at that lip. He wonders what it would be like to smooth his fingertips over it. Would he be able to feel the indents from Virgil’s teeth in the skin? Would it be soft or chapped? What would it feel like to lean over and press his mouth to Virgil’s? To pull Virgil’s lower lip from between his teeth and suck it between his own? Would Virgil taste like the sea, or would he taste like that “sand witch” he had been eating? 

“Uh . . . Logan?” 

Logan startles, blinking rapidly and looking at Virgil, whose gaze has shifted from his tail to his face. “Are you okay there, buddy? You were kinda . . . starin’ at me.” 

Virgil’s cheeks are faintly pink. Curious. 

“I apologize. It was not my intention to stare at or confuse you,” Logan says, hastily turning his attention back to the towel wrapped around his forearms. “I merely found myself . . . what is the human expression? ‘Lost in thought.’ I did not mean to alarm you.” 

“I mean, same,” Virgil says. “I do that all the time, and then the Doc asks me what the hell I’m doing staring at him. Don’t worry about it. I was worried I’d hurt you or something.” 

“You would know if you had hurt me,” Logan says. “But you have yet to do so, and I am reasonably confident that you will not.” He feels his heart rate begin to pick up, unsure why it is doing so. Virgil’s cheeks get pinker still, and he quickly turns away, breaking their eye contact. 

For some reason, this distresses Logan slightly. 

Virgil finishes drying him off and places a stack of paper on the towels in front of Logan. “Here’s your paper, and here’s your pencil. Oh, fuck, wait - do you know how to hold a pencil?” 

Logan takes the strange draw stick from Virgil, squinting at it curiously. “I . . . have never done so before. Perhaps if you were to demonstrate, I could copy your technique?” 

Virgil pulls up a chair next to the table and props a sketchpad against the edge. “I mean, you gotta remember that I have years of practice doing this and you don’t,” he says, “but if you want, I can try.” 

“That would be beneficial.” 

Virgil pulls another draw stick from behind his ear and presses the non-draw end against his lip, humming. “What should I draw?” 

Logan’s mouth moves before he can stop himself. “You could create a draw of me.” 

Virgil’s eyes snap up to meet Logan’s. “You - you would be okay with that?” 

“Your draws of me are very good,” Logan says. “And - and I do not mind when you create draws of me, and I am - I am right here, am I not?” 

“You are . . .”

Virgil looks away, and Logan feels his face begin to burn. He is confused, but his confusion quickly fades when Virgil begins to make his draw. Logan studies the way he holds his draw stick, making sure that he’s not staring at Virgil when Virgil’s gaze flicks back up to him. He adjusts himself about seven times before leaning down to start his own project. 

He quickly learns that Virgil was right - creating a draw is much harder than he makes it look. The draw stick is awkward in his hands, and as hard as he tries he can’t move it around easily like Virgil does. 

“If you have a mistake,” Virgil says, glancing up again, “use this end.” He taps the pink end of the draw stick. “It’s called an eraser, it gets rid of the marks. Here, I’ll show you.” He makes a random line in the corner and then rubs the pink end back and forth rapidly, brushing the page off to reveal that the mark is gone. 

Logan turns his draw stick around and tries to remove some of his mistakes from the paper. It takes him a few tries to get the hang of it, but he finally manages to scrub away his mistakes and start again. “Will . . . will I be able to produce a good draw, do you think?” 

“Today? Probably not,” Virgil says, not looking up from his pad. “Eventually? Maybe, if you’re committed to getting better. It’s gonna take a while, and you are gonna hate your work at one point. You’re gonna wonder what the point of doing it over and over again is if you don’t seem to be getting any better. But then, one day, you . . .”

His voice takes on a faint, nostalgic tone. “One day, you’ll be looking back through your old work and you’ll compare it to the stuff you’ve just did that you thought was horrible and . . . and you’ll . . . you’ll realize how far you’ve come. And you’ll realize that even though you thought you were so, so shitty . . . you’re not. You’re improving. You’re getting better.” 

“Are you alright?” Logan asks. “Your eyes are leaking.” 

Virgil brushes the leak off of his face. “I’m alright,” he says. “I’m just . . . overwhelmed with emotion. I’ll be okay.” 

Logan reaches out and gently brushes some of the leak off Virgil’s face with his fingertips. “I am sorry that I made you leak, Virgil.” 

Virgil stammers. “I - uh - you - it - it wasn’t your fault.” He tilts his head, just a little, and presses it into Logan’s hand. The sensation fills Logan with light. “What are you trying to draw?” 

“I am not sure. I have not ever tried to create a draw before, and I do not know what I should make. Perhaps I should make you?” 

“Wh - you - draw - draw me?” 

“Why not? You create beautiful draws of me all the time. It would only be logical to return the favor. If you would prefer that I do not, I can find another subject, but -”

“No! I - uh - that is - you can draw me I don’t mind!” Logan smiles brightly, curling the tip of his tail happily and pulling his hand away from Virgil’s face to pick up his draw stick again. 

“It won’t be very good,” he says. “It won’t be as good as your draws of me. But I might be able to make one of you.” 

“It’s okay if it’s not perfect,” Virgil says, still pink-faced and staring. “It’s allowed to be shitty. It’s allowed to suck. You’re allowed to do a bad job, you know that, right?” 

“But I do not want to do a bad job,” Logan says. “I - I want -” He cuts himself off. He does his best not to voice his concerns, generally speaking, because they tend to be pointless and unresolvable. There is no point in bothering Virgil with his silly inadequacies. 

“What?” Virgil says, looking at him. “What do you want, Logan?” His voice is very soft, and when Logan chances a quick glance in his direction he sees that Virgil is smiling softly at him. “You can tell me.” 

“There would not be much point in doing so.” 

“Are you sure? Even if there’s nothing I can do to actually make you feel better, sometimes just knowing that someone else is there for you can make you feel better. You know?” 

“I . . . do not . . . want to bother you,” Logan says, looking down at the table and fiddling with his hands. He startles when he feels someone touch his tail. 

“Hey,” Virgil says, gentle. “You’re not bothering me. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know, would I?” 

“I suppose not . . .”

“So if I did ask, that must mean that I do want to know, isn’t that right?” 

“That would make logical sense, yes.” 

“So tell me what you want. Even if I can’t give it to you, I can at least listen.” 

Logan feels his cheeks heat up. “I . . . do not want to do a bad job. You always do such a spectacular job when you make draws of me, and they make me look much more pleasing than I do naturally. I do not want to repay such a favor by creating draws of you that are unflattering. I want to give you something that I can be proud of. I want you to like it, even if you do not like it as much as I like the draws that you make of me. But I will never be able to create something like that. Certainly not today, at any rate, and possibly not ever. And that . . . makes me . . . feel . . . sad . . .” 

Virgil reaches out and gently touches his hand. Logan wants to look at him, but keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the blank paper in front of him. “Lo, it - it’s okay.” 

“How is it okay?” 

“Well, for one thing, I think you’re pretty great looking already. You don’t need my drawings to make you look different or better or anything. Your scales are so cool, you look like the night sky! And as far as the unflattering drawing aspect goes, trust me. You couldn’t possibly create anything that looks any worse than I do on a daily basis. I look like a corpse that the Doc resurrected for the sole purpose of doing grunt work in the lab.” 

Virgil snorts, laughing, and Logan finds himself laughing a little too, in spite of himself. “You . . . you do not look like that,” he manages. “I think that you look very nice. And I . . . appreciate what you say in regards to my . . . my scales. That was kind of you to say.” 

“Well, it was true, wasn’t it?” Virgil smiles. Logan picks up the draw stick again, frowning at the paper. “You know that you don’t have to draw if you don’t want to, Logan.” 

“I do want to,” Logan says, readjusting his hand around the draw stick. “I really do want to try and make a draw for you. I still do not think that it will be very good, but - but will you really be interested to see it no matter what?” 

“I really will,” Virgil says. “And I can make a drawing of you while you make one of me. We can swap them afterwards!” 

Logan looks up at him and smiles, and when Virgil smiles in response he feels a fresh surge of motivation.

Virgil jumps when the cell phone sitting on the table begins to buzz, rattling back and forth with such force that he snatches it up quickly for fear that it’ll fall to the floor. Logan snaps his head up from where he’s been bent over his sketchpad with intense focus. “What is that?!” 

“Just my cell phone, don’t worry about it -”

“What is a cell phone?” 

“It’s something that lets me talk to the Doc - hang on - Doc!” 

“Virgil? What took you so long? You normally never wait more than two rings before picking up, I was worried something happened!” Thomas jokes. 

“Doc, that’s not funny!” Thomas laughs anyway. “I was distracted, okay?” 

“By what, the cute merman?”

“Doc! Keep your voice down! Are you coming back from hunting soon?” 

“Well, I can’t fit any more fish on this boat, so I guess we are. I - what are you - stop that!”

“Uh . . . Doc?” 

There’s a lot of rustling and shouting from the other end of the phone, causing Virgil to hold it away from his ear and squint at it in confusion. Logan looks up from his sketchpad, keeping it tilted towards his chest so that Virgil can’t see it until the drawing is complete. “What are you doing?” 

“Trying to figure out what the fuck is happening right now.” 

When the commotion from his phone finally dies down, Virgil pulls it back towards his ear. “Hello?” 

“Human!”

“I have a name, you know.”

“Let me talk to my brother!” 

“Not unless you ask nicely.” 

“Human, let me talk to Logan!”

“Not unless you ask nicely. And use my name, for God’s sake!” 

There’s a smacking sound from the other end of the line, and the melodic screeching that Virgil has come to recognize as Patton speaking when he’s partially out of the water. “Virgil,” Roman grits out, clearly having been freshly chastised, Can I please talk to Sharkbait?” 

“Of course you can, now that you’ve asked me nicely,” Virgil taunts smugly. He sets the phone down on the table and quickly switches it to speaker mode. “Lo, there’s someone who wants to talk to you.” 

“Oh?” 

“Sharkbait!” Roman calls. “Dad and I are done hunting! We caught so much fish for you!” 

“Really? Did you find my favorites?” Logan’s eyes light up at the sound of his brother’s voice.

“You bet we did! We caught so many! Don’t worry, we’ll bring plenty of fish home to you!” 

Logan smiles, gently touching the cell phone on the table. “I know that you will, Roman. Did you have fun in the open ocean today?” 

“Yeah, but hunting’s boring without you here to compete with. Dad doesn’t understand the way we compete to catch the most fish, so it’s not as much fun. Plus, he always wins the races because he’s so much bigger than me, and if I win it’s because he lets me.”

“I am sorry that I left you all alone like that,” Logan says softly. “I promise, I am trying my hardest to get better so that I can come back to the open ocean with you.” 

Virgil pretends that the thought of Logan and his pod leaving doesn’t fill him with sadness. “We’re going to go and swim right back now, okay? We’ll see you soon, Sharkbait!”

“I will see you very soon indeed, Roman.” 

When Logan hands the phone back to Virgil, he hangs up and slides it into his pocket. He picks up his pencil again, letting the tip rest against the line he’d been in the middle of drawing. It’s the overall curve of Logan’s tail, coiled neatly beneath him as he rests his arms on a haphazard rock pile on the water’s edge. Virgil’s never seen Logan in this position, but he can picture it quite easily. 

Against his better judgement, he speaks. “Hey . . . Logan?” 

“Yes, Virgil?” 

“I just . . . I have a question for you.” 

“What might that question be?” 

“When you get better, you’re going to be able to swim around the open ocean with your pod again, right?” 

“That is the goal, yes.” 

“So, when that day comes, will . . . will you leave?” 

“I do not wish to remain confined to a human lab for the rest of my life, Virgil,” Logan says, raising an eyebrow. 

“No, that’s not what I meant! I know you want to get back home to the ocean with your pod, I’d want to go back too if I was in your position. I just wanted to know if . . . if you would ever come back.” 

“What do you mean, come back?” 

“To visit, I mean.” Virgil’s hand tightens around his pencil. “Would I ever see you again? I know that you want to go back to the ocean where you belong, but I - I dunno, you’re really cool, and I - I wanna see you again. I wanna hang out, even if you’re not here healing. And I could maybe keep teaching you to draw, if you wanted, but - but if you’d rather not, that - I’d understand, but I -”

He cuts his rambling off at the feeling of something resting gently on his knee. He looks up to see Logan, looking at him with a strange sort of intensity. “Would you like that?” Logan asks softly. 

“Would I like what?” 

“If we came back to visit you. Would that be something that would interest you?” 

“I mean, yeah. You’re really cool, and I like hanging out with you. I know that you’re not really super into the whole ‘being-friends-with-humans’ thing, but . . . but I really wanna. Be friends with you, I mean. And you’re super fascinating, not just because I’ve never met a mer before, but because you’re a cool person to be around in general!” 

Logan’s cheeks are slightly pink. “You . . . really want to be friends?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I - I would have to speak to my dad and Roman, of course,” Logan says. “They might not want to spend so much time in such close proximity to humans. But as for me . . . I think that, perhaps, visiting you on occasion would not be . . . the worst thing in the world. If nothing else, I would also like to continue learning to create draws with you.” 

He shyly presents the sketchpad he’s been hiding to Virgil. It’s a fairly rudimentary drawing, but there are still several distinct markings that make it easy to tell it’s Virgil. There are carefully marked freckles on the face, with smeared blocks of graphite beneath the drawn and redrawn eyes to symbolize his eyeshadow. His shirt is drawn as baggy, with a weird lump at the back that Virgil suspects is supposed to represent him wearing a hoodie. He’s smiling in the sketch, and there’s a rectangle in one of his hands and a stick in the other. 

“Am I . . . holding a drawing pad? And a pencil?” 

“It seems that every time I see you, you’re carrying a draw stick and making even more wonderful draws. It seemed only fitting that I put them in my draw of you. Was that the wrong thing to do?"

“No, it was - it was sweet. I’m touched, Lo, really. This drawing is great. I love it” 

Logan smiles at him, showing off his sharp, white teeth. Only a week ago, Virgil would have been terrified that he was about to lose a hand. Now, his stomach flutters at the sight of such a joyful smile. “I am glad that you enjoy it, Virgil.” 

Before Virgil can respond, there’s a clattering noise from the hallway that leads down to the ocean. “Oh! Doc and your pod must be back from hunting already! I’ll go help him get your dad and Roman and all the fish back into this room. Will you be okay here on your own?” 

“I think I will manage,” Logan says. “Oh, and, um, Virgil?” 

“Yes?” 

“Thank you for everything. I truly appreciate it, from the bottom of my heart. It was thanks to you that I did not die on that beach when the net washed me ashore, and it was thanks to you that I was reunited with my pod again. I cannot thank you enough for all that you have done for me.” 

Before Virgil can stop himself, he reaches out and gently touches the top of Logan’s head. His hair is slightly damp, and coarse from centuries of salt water exposure. Logan’s eyes blow wide, and his mouth drops open in a small “o” shape. “It’s no problem, Logan, really. I was happy to help.” 

“Oh,” Logan manages, cheeks flushing scarlet. 

Virgil flashes a quick smile at him before pulling his hand back like he’s been burned and all but sprinting down the hallway. He turns the corner so fast that he nearly slips and falls, bracing himself against the hard concrete wall. 

“Hey there, Vee,” Thomas calls, tying a rowboat overflowing with freshly caught fish to the small dock. Roman twists up out of the water and flops “elegantly” onto the dock. Virgil can see a large, dark shape swirling around in the water that he assumes must be Patton. 

“Hey, Doc. You guys get a good haul today?” 

“So much,” Roman brags, bristling his spines and grinning. “Almost half of this was me!” 

“That’s a lie and you know it, three-quarters of the work was Patton,” Thomas says. There’s a melodic shriek from the water, as though agreeing with Thomas, and Roman pouts. “Anyway, Vee, I figure we can take the mer into the lab first and then come back for the fish?” 

“No, take the fish first,” Roman instructs. 

“Bossy,” Virgil says, crossing his arms. “Why do we need to take the fish back first, anyway?” 

“Because Dad and I both ate a little while we were out hunting, but Sharkbait hasn’t eaten anything all day. He must be starving,” Roman says, eyes suddenly serious. Despite his initial misgivings, Virgil can’t help but be touched by Roman’s concern for his younger brother. “Make sure he gets fed, and then you can bring Dad and I into the lab. He’ll be alright waiting to see us for a little while longer, but he needs to eat.” 

“Yeah, that does make sense . . . I brought the cart because I assumed we’d be yeeting you into it, but we can throw your fish in instead.” 

Roman tilts his head, looking like a lost puppy. “What is a ‘yeeting’? Is that a weird human word?” 

Thomas laughs so hard that he nearly over-balances and falls off the dock. A large hand shoots up and braces itself against the small of Thomas’s back, pushing him back up onto the dock. He stumbles forward a little, throwing his arms out, and turns around to look at the water in shock. The arm extended has fingers tipped with sharp claws, but when Virgil frantically runs over to check on his mentor, he sees that his coat is barely scratched. 

“Doc! Are you okay?!” 

“I’m okay, Virgil, don’t worry. Patton caught me! Thank you, Patton!” Thomas calls. The arm waves a little before sinking back beneath the water. Virgil sighs, going back for the cart and wheeling it over. 

“Let’s get this over with . . .”

It takes them almost ten whole minutes to load the majority of the catch into Virgil’s cart. They end up with about three-quarters in the cart before it’s full. “I guess we’re making a second trip?” 

“Don’t bother,” Roman says, swishing his tail lazily. “Dad and I will eat what’s left here, and then when you come back we’ll go with you to the lab where Sharkbait is.” 

“Are you really gonna be able to eat all this in the time that it takes us to take this cart to the lab and back?” Virgil asks. Roman grins, baring his own set of gleaming fangs. Unlike earlier with Logan, however, Virgil feels a shiver of fear run through him. 

“Don’t doubt our appetites, Virgil. We’ll be done in no time.” 

Virgil grips the handle of the cart tightly and leans his entire body weight into it. It takes him a few tries to get the heavily-laden thing going, but once he builds up a little momentum he’s able to struggle down the hallway. He hears Thomas talking to the other mer, but he focuses on getting back into the lab. 

Logan looks up from his sketchpad, sniffing the air eagerly. “Food?” 

“Yep!” Virgil grunts. “Your pod caught a whoooooole bunch of stuff, and it’s for you!” He finally gets the cart into position near the lab table, kicking at the brakes to engage them and lock the wheels. “Lemme take your sketchpad and stuff so that they don’t get messy while you eat.” 

Logan appears vaguely offended at the idea of being a “messy eater,” but he gets over himself quickly when Virgil swaps his sketchpad and pencil for a fish. He eagerly sinks his teeth into the side, and Virgil quickly turns away. “I’ll be back!” 

He puts the sketchbook and pencil down on a clean table and grabs another cart, wheeling it back to the little grotto. “Hey, Doc, how are we filling this thing with seawater? Do I have to go get the pump, too?” 

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Roman says, waving a hand dismissively. “Dad can do it. Hang on -”

He shoves his head under the water and says something in the mer language to Patton. Virgil jumps back in shock as a column of water rises up from the ocean, pouring neatly into the cart. As it nears the top, he frantically cuts in, “That’s good! That’s enough!” Roman sticks his head underwater again, and the column tapers off. “Thank you, Patton. I didn’t know you had that much control over the ocean. Do all mer have that?” 

“Just Dad,” Roman says. “He’s an elder mer, so he’s been around forever. He’s got all kinds of weird fun tricks under his fins!” Virgil wonders if that’s the mer version of “having tricks up your sleeve.” 

“Who’s going in the cart first, you or your dad?” Thomas asks. Roman opens his mouth to answer, but he’s cut off by a terrified scream echoing from the lab. 

“Was that -”

“Sharkbait!” Roman bristles all of his spines at once, teeth baring, pupils shrinking to slits. “That was Logan, what did you do to him - ”

“Nothing! I left him on one of the tables eating fish, he was fine when I left! I promise!” Virgil says. Roman throws himself into the cart, tail swishing awkwardly until he finally shoves his head up above the water. 

“Take me in there, now! I have to know what happened to him!” 

“How are we going to get Patton in there if you’re in the cart?!” 

“Good point . . . carry me!” Roman sticks his arms up, and if the situation wasn’t so dire Virgil would think it was funny that he was asking to be carried like a petulant child. 

“Put your fucking spines down first, I’m not getting poisoned today!”

“I’m worried about Logan, this is as flat as I can get them!” 

Logan screams again, and Roman’s spines bristle uncontrollably before he very visibly forces them to flatten a little. Virgil thanks his lucky stars that he’s wearing a particularly thick jacket today and hoists Roman into his arms. 

“Go!” Thomas says. “I’ll get Patton!” 

Virgil takes off down the hallway as fast as he dares to go while carrying a mer who’s dripping seawater all over the floor and also not the lightest thing in the world. He isn’t sure what he’s going to see when he makes it into the lab, but he’s steeling his nerves. He’ll be prepared for whatever it is. He’ll handle it, or the doc will handle it, and everything will be okay. 

When he bursts into the lab, he nearly drops Roman in shock. “L - Logan?!” 

“Sharkbait?!” 

Logan looks at them in terror from the lab table, shifting around so they can very clearly see the very human legs that have completely replaced his long, elegant tail. 

“What’s happening to me?!” 

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