#net witch trinket

[kokoronis]

When Charme and Trinket first met... ✨

[pinksugarscrub]

Sun and Moon

Sea Witch! Hobie x mermaid! reader

Inspired by 🪦 anon after a discussion on @the-kr8tor 's blog. Thank you!

Part(s): Prologue/Chapter one, ???

Word count: 2,232

~

Bottles and vials clink together. It’s a sound you’ve come to love as you scribble in your notebook. Pearls coated in luminescent algae overhead so you can see your work. Held together by strings of silk or seaweed.

You sneak a glance at him. Watching as he mixes together a new concoction before quickly looking down and pretending to write when in all reality there’s an out of place squiggle on the page. You wait a few minutes before bringing your attention back to the man you love. A fishing net around his waist (a new addition) that holds together his black robe. Neck littered with random trinkets, shells, and pearls.

Sighing softly you rest your chin in your palm. The sketch of him long forgotten as you admire the real thing. This time you don’t shy away when he looks over his shoulder.

Hobie laughs softly, “caught you…” His eyes sparkling as he sets down his tools. Swimming over to your side he towers over you (quite easily I might add) as he reaches down. Gently, he rubs his thumb over your jaw. “What are you thinking about guppy? Me?”

Bubbles leave your lips as you laugh. Playfully pushing his hand away but it’s soon replaced by his own lips as he leans down. Peppering kisses to every inch of skin he can reach.

“Yes and-” You laugh louder as he changes to blowing raspberries against your neck. “-no! And if you don’t stop I won’t tell you anything!”

Hobie, of course, ignores this and wraps his tentacles around your waist. Bringing you closer until you’re effectively trapped. The only portion of you left uncovered are your fins. Flailing weakly against the water.

“I could just force it out of you my love,” he grins. The pearls in his hair shining under the dim light that managed to squeeze through a crack in the cave. You’ll never get tired of the way his eyes glow, even under the sunlight. Like gold rings of fire that you’ve seen on the mainland.

“You could,” you muse,“but are you going to?”

He stares.

You stare right back.

Then he clicks his tongue and loosens his grip but only enough to allow you to shift around to lay against him. The telltale sign being his hand placed over your naval.

You follow his motions without protest and eventually you both settle into the comfort of your bed full of kelp and sea sponge. His chin resting atop your head as he wraps his arms around your waist. Immediately tracing the outline of gold in your scales ever so gently.

“Alright, on with it. What did I do this time?”

Hobie relishes in your laugh. If he could, he would bottle up the sound and keep it tucked away for the days you’re away. He wishes he could finally convince you to stay but he wouldn’t think of ever getting in the way of your dream. For now, the daily visits would suffice.

“I was just thinking…about the day we met.”

“The day we met?” He repeats. Chuckling as he moves to bury his nose into the crook of your neck. “What about it lovie? Are you missing the days where my hair was longer?”

Your eyes glaze over the scar on your tail. The scales surrounding it are a bit discolored but iridescent nonetheless.

You reach for his hands wanting to seek the same feeling you felt all those months ago. Tending to you. Even the rings on his fingers are the same except for one on his left hand. The peridot matching the one around your neck. He glady intertwines your fingers.

“You did look quite rugged,” you tease.

His chest rumbles beneath your back. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

You inhale sharply.“Anyway-”

“No, no, we’re coming back to that.”

You shush him while petting one of his tentacles and he practically melts into jelly. Accepting defeat he moves another tentacle to caress your fin. You chuckle at the gesture. He might as well be a sea urchin.

“I was just wondering, what would have happened if you hadn’t found me.”

He pauses, taking his hand and lifting your chin so he can look into your eyes. “Why are you thinking about that?” You can practically feel him frowning. “Are you-”

“No,” you answer quickly. Smiling softly to reassure him. “I’m not. I feel safe with you.”

Hobie scans your face for any sign of a lie. Knowing how stubborn you can be when admitting to having nightmares again.

“I mean it love,” you laugh. Shaking your head as you poked his nose. “Don’t look so distressed. I’m referring to how much you’ve changed my life.”

He quirks a brow and you can’t help but laugh harder. Seems you have some convincing to do.

It’s not easy recalling some memories from the past but you can’t have light, without the darkness. Much like Hobie can’t be without his sun and you, can’t be without your moon.

Chapter one - Lost

Scavengers were the absolute bane of your existence. For weeks, weeks, you’ve been sourcing red seaweed. Rare red seaweed. Because greed and pollution seem to infect every corner of the sea now. It’s specifically ordered to be used as parchment for royal records and as the kingdom’s archivist it’s your duty to provide. You would lose your job in an instant if someone, anyone, found you unfit to continue guarding documents that are as old as the man who calls himself your superior.

You can’t lose the one chance you have to advance into a position you actually enjoy. So if it takes you another decade of stocking scrolls and collecting algae, so be it! But you can’t do that if you don’t figure out some way to get the remaining seaweed.

There isn’t much you can do except probe the regular patrons of the library for any leads. They seem to pity you with how their eyes follow you as you sift through maps that you already know like the back of your hand. You’re hoping a new path will magically appear on the page when you blink.

It’s hours before you finally stop and rest. You don’t think you’ve swam this much in months.

“A witch?” A voice whispers.

You sit up straighter on the bed of sponge you’re sitting on. Leaning over to see past the spiral staircase of stone. There’s a woman— scratch that—two women along with a small girl. The young mermaid sucking on her thumb as her eyes traced over the coral chandelier.

Witches weren’t…unheard of but it’s not like you believed in such stories. They were just tactics used to scare children into eating their clams and keeping them away from deeper water.

The stories claim witches have golden irises that can turn you into seafoam with just one glance. A voice so enchanting that they use it to lure sailors just as much as they would merfolk. The only positive thing you’ve heard over the years is their ability to heal but even that came at a price.

You sit back into your original position. Making bubble rings and watching them make their way to the surface.

The women are talking in hushed tones that you deem unnecessary with how vacant the library is. You close your eyes as you continue to listen in. Gossip is normally beneath you but you need a laugh after how long a day you had. Honestly, you’re only taking bits and pieces of information until you hear one word, apothecary. And it’s like it all clicks into place.

“An apothecary!” You laugh before promptly slapping your hand over your mouth.

How could you be so stupid? An apothecary! There were several of them strewn about. Most abandoned as the men and women who practiced lived inside the kingdom now. In the past however, they always grew their own stock to avoid having to pay merchants or hire a forager. If you can find just one, that should be enough to satisfy the king’s order. What’s even better is it’s entirely possible you’ll be able to regrow what was stolen. It’s the best solution you could have asked for.

By some miracle your ‘aha’ moment isn’t heard. Neither is the flick of your fins as you sneak past the trio. You really don’t want to try to justify your eavesdropping and you’re sure they don’t want to discuss the existence of something only known to be in folklore with a very skeptical scholar.

The water rushing by your ears blocks out the rest of their conversation. Only the statues bear witness about the abandoned apothecary the witch inhabits.

-

That night you gather a sickle, a ration pack, and a bag with plenty of room to stuff bundles of seaweed into. A map tucked into the outside pocket.

There were six apothecaries in total, all surrounding the castle at varying distances. There’s a chance the ones closest have already been raided so you decide to venture further out towards the ones in the south. You’re both excited and terrified to be venturing out on your own but maybe this will prove you are capable.

When the sun rises, you’re already out the door. Compass in hand as you swim around the castle gates.

You are in complete awe at everything you see. Tall stalks of coral the size of ships and fish so bright you have to stop and admire them. You try not to get too distracted but with the number of things you see you lose your way. Heading East, toward the dark sea.

After what feels like hours you arrive at the mouth of a cavern. So large it almost seems to come to life as the shadow cast from the sun moves low. Fish swimming in and out like it was sucking and spitting them out.

Flipping open the map you stare at pathways. Tilting your head to try to make sense of the markings. There is an obvious seal at the edge of the cave but the image is practically scratched off so you can’t identify it. Your compass, as it turns out, is left unusable as it spins in every direction. Obviously, this isn’t good news but did you really risk all of this just to return home empty handed?

You swallow thickly as you stare down into the cave. It can’t be…too far. Can it?

Circling the entrance you gnaw on your thumb. Turning away to face the already rising moon. You weren’t expecting to stay out all day but you have enough supplies to tide you over for the night. You’re not completely inexperienced.

A deep rumble echoes through the water and you pause. Eyes darting to the cave again and darkness stares right back but it dawns on you as you feel the current shift that it wasn’t coming from inside.

This was wrong. You shouldn’t be here.

The fish dart away to any available crevice along with the vibrant anemone that sink back into themselves. Another hum reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to look behind you.

Shaking you count to ten then twenty before a shadow is cast overhead. The sea is silent. Nothing moves, nothing breathes except…

A leviathan.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

You choke back a sob. It reeks of death. Jaws stained with blood, fresh blood as it dissipates into the sea.

Stories filter through your mind at a mile a minute. You were told about great adventurers. Of their bravery and cunning against giants like the leviathan but you feel neither brave or prepared.

For the first time you hear your heartbeat. You weren’t even aware that, that was possible. Maybe it was a form of mercy, feeling your lifeforce before it was stripped from you.

It’s waiting. You can see it. Its eyes have never left yours. Its pupils so dark it reminds you of the sky. Above the surface of what you call home.

You make the mistake of looking away and everything happens in an instant.

You scream and it bellows as it strikes. Hot rushes of pain erupt with every flick of its head as it tries to swallow you whole. Jagged rocks digging into your skin as your hands bleed from smashing against its teeth. Your fear only doubles as it takes you deeper into the cave you were so hesitant to even look at. You can’t see, just feel and hear the monster that’s in front of you.

You wish you hadn’t tried to fight back. You wish you were home. You wish it had killed you quicker.

You’re so disoriented that the flashes of light that spark into your vision you mistake for the sun. The heat of each bang doing nothing to aid the tears in your body.

The leviathan roars and with each smash of glass it shrinks back until eventually it flees. Thick tail hitting the walls of stone and breaking just the surface.

You hear sounds above the calamity, words that you can’t make out because you think it’s finally over. You can rest now.

Gentle hands run over your body as you lose consciousness. Holding onto you like you were as precious as a pearl. Rings of gold are the last thing you see.

[senorincognito69]

Skincrawlers (woman into insect TF tale)

(Woman into insect)*

Witchcraft stores are a rather common business venture amongst covens and practitioners of the arkane, a store is, after all, the simplest way to offer your services to those that may desire them. You may not believe it, but one of those stores may be very near you, they may appear anywhere, even in a spot you thought was a Starbucks.

And they can just as easily go away.

The norm in such establishments is to offer the usual mix of magicks, trinkets and other witchey gizmos. Witches tend to be picky about their craft and the variety of spells, incantations and potions a store might offer will be as varied as the members of the coven are. Some witches may choose to focus on offering services rather than goods or goods rather than services. Others, being more entrepreneurial, even try to franchise their kind of boutique, perhaps turning them into spas or salons in which the product being sold is the pleasure of magic itself. There’s also, of course, the ones that, being skillful or comfortable with a particular magical gimmick. become specialised.

Such was the case of that tattoo studio.

From the outside it looked, for the most part, just like any other skin-inker shopfront that you may have seen before, maybe slightly odd, with a wacky name, and you wouldn’t recall having seen that tattoo place before, so it would stand to reason that it only opened recently, making it even more interesting.

If you enter you will be warmly welcomed and, after a short wait, when your turn comes, they will lead you to the back room of the store down a corridor. From the walls of the corridor hang several frames showing the art being offered. Beautiful pieces… shown in squares that seem to be made of skin, living skin, as if a person had been flattened and stretched into a canvas over a flat surface, reduced into faceless pieces of art… their genitals exposed, pussies, dicks, boobs, nipples and some buttholes from those that got their tattoo on their rear…

Subtle muffled moans will then follow.

Then you will reach the place where the magic happens.

One of the most interesting offerings from the studio is a tattoo that grants luck, a tattoo that must be in the form of a bug. An insect, arachnid, mollusk… some sort of lowly crawling lifeform. As long as the tattoo is on your skin lucky things will happen to you, but as those things happen the residual energy of your improved chances will gradually, slowly, accumulate in that bug on your skin.

Until…

Dina had a mantis tattoo on the back of her left thigh.

It wasn’t the only tattoo on her white skin, but it was the one  that her existence was held upon. She was quite an alternative looking chick, with a short bob haircut dyed vivid red, multiple tattoos and piercings, in her lips, nose, ears, nipples… cunt… A very curvy woman about to enter her thirties, with an ample bust and ample hips, juicy ass and juicy boobs. She was walking out of a steamy shower, smirked and winking at her foggy reflection in the mirror, before leaving the bathroom barefoot and holding a towel across her tits.

Carlota, Dina’s roommate, was sitting on the couch in her pyjamas, doing mindless net surfing. She groaned when she saw Dina enter the living room.

“Yikes, bitch, could you put on some pants at least?” she growled after the redhead moved her big butt in front of her. “I don’t need to see your fat ass every day!”

They had been friends and living together for more than half a decade. On that day Dina had a date… with Carlota’s ex.

“Then go live somewhere else!” the redhead answered, chuckling. “I’m thirsty!”

Dina went towards the kitchen, unfortunately her towel was a bit too long and luckily her feet stepped over the fluffy cloth. She squeaked, losing her balance and fell forward, slamming against the floor boobs first. After the short initial shock Carlota burst into laughter watching her pal laying naked and spread on the floor.

“Maybe you should walk on all fours like a pig!” she gloated.

The redhead groaned, rubbing her sore tits as she got up onto her knees. She was about to bark something back at Carlota’s laughter, when she noticed something on the dusty floor under the couch. Squinting her eyes she leaned forward, stretching her arm between carlota’s legs.

Carlota frowned.

“What the heck are you doing now?” she asked, putting her legs on the couch.

Dina didn’t answer until she managed to reach the edge of her objective with the tip of her fingers. Her rear raised up, her boobs pressed against the floor, she stuck her tongue out, stretched out with the nails, slid the paper along the floor…

“Aha!” triumphantly she pulled a fifty dollar bill from beneath the couch, not caring about her nudity as she stood up, one hand on her waist and the other proudly showing off her find. “Am I a lucky whore or what?”

Carlota’s mouth dropped open.

“Hey…!” she babbled. “Hey! Those are the fifty bucks I lost last week!”

The redhead giggled, shaking the money in front of her roommate’s eyes.

“Na! Na! Nana! Finders keepers, bitch!” Dina stepped back, holding the bill with both hands, admiring it. “He, he, guess I’m gonna woo your ex with some extra sweets tonight!” 

Carlota was furious, but her anger was distracted by something else… something that made her frown… she raised her hand… and slapped Dina’s left thigh from behind.

“AY! HEY!” Dina cried in pain, jumping away. “You moron! I was gonna give you the money back, but now I’m keeping it!”

“No!” Carlota swore from the edge of her seat. “I saw something moving under your ass! A bug or something!”

“What?!” the redhead tried to bend to see her own butt. “Where?! If this is a joke I’m gonna be pissed!” a bit of panic crept into her voice.

Carlota didn’t say anything, she was lost for words.

Right below Dina’s ass, on the back of her left thigh, the mantis, the mantis drawn with ink on her skin, was moving, flapping its wings and stretching its insectile limbs.

“What the what…?” muttered Carlota.

The mantis moved as if it was alive… or as alive as a well animated cartoon. It crawled around the two dimensional space, tracing a couple of circles before climbing over her buttocks, Dina’s skin was a silver screen for its display.

“I feel something! Tickles!” Dina complained. “Is it still there?! Smack that fucking thing again! KILL IT!”

Carlota remained shocked.

“T-That can’t be,” she gulped.

“What can’t be?!” Dina shouted, grabbing her buttocks. She put a hand on top of the mantis and the mantis passed from skin to skin.

“Your hand, look at your hand!”

Dina looked where her roommate was pointing, her fingers lost their grip on the fifty dollar bill, her face was instantly disfigured by horror and confusion.

“What the what…?” she muttered.

The ink mantis cocked its head, staring upwards, seeing the woman’s head above and beyond the confines of its skin world. Dina began to yell, fully frenzied, she slapped her hand.

“Get it off! GET IT OFF!” 

Jumping around naked she slapped and slapped, but she couldn’t touch the mantis, but only felt its pointy legs crawling through her skin, under her skin, climbing her arm, sliding down her shoulder.

“NO! NO! NO!”

She tried to squeeze the pest between her boobs, like all the other strikes it accomplished nothing. The bug just walked away from the breasts. Dina’s lips trembling, she dropped to her knees.

“Stop!” the mantis was rushing down her belly, towards her crotch. “NOT THERE!”

In desperation the redhead scratched her skin with her nails, the mantis didn’t even bother to dodge, becoming lost inside the woman’s wide dark pubes.

“STOP IT! STOOOOOOOOOOOOOP! NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIH!”

Dina’s neck tensed up, her arms opened wide, she clenched her face, held her breath as her vaginal lips were spread open.

The mantis was in.

She began to gasp again, groaning and moaning, her skin buzzing and red everywhere where it had been slapped or scratched. Carlota, who was ducking scared in a corner of the couch, babbled, half-sobbing: “Dina… are you okay?”

“What do you think?!” screamed Dina, looking down at her defiled crotch with furious tears making her sight watery. “It’s inside me! That thing! It’s inside me!”

“C-Calm down, maybe we can…”

“FUCK YOU CALM DOWN! It’s inside me! INSIDE MEEEEEEEEH!”

The screaming wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Dina tried to stand up only to be put back down on her knees almost immediately. Her joints snapped, her limbs contracted in bizarre ways as she groaned breathlessly.

“FFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK! FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! It’s inside! Itshhh nghhhhhhhh meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

Carlota shook her head when Dina put her hands on her crotch and used both of them to start to masturbate.

“Dina stop!” she begged.

“Oooooooooh! AAAAAAAAAAH! Y-You think I wouldn’t iffffff I could?!”

Louder and louder moans.

The redhead put her head against the floor as she shoved as many fingers as she could inside her pussy, her legs spread and her ass was pushed high. Carlota covered her mouth, perfectly seeing her mate going full hog. It was an unreal level of pleasure, but it didn’t do anything to calm Dina’s anger… or fear. She bit her lips with frustration, reaching an orgasm that would bring her little joy.

“HMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

She came and squirted, convulsing until the stiffness in her muscles loosened and she fell flat.

“D-Dina…?” mumbled Carlota.

With a great effort, trembling, dishevelled, sticky wet, Dina got up onto all fours.

“Carlota… C-Carlota…” her voice shivers.

“I’m here, I’m with you…”

“Cccccarlotaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

Her cry was followed by a loud cracking sound, her spine stiffened, her asscheeks began to swell.

“This isn’t real!” Carlota sobbed.

The flesh on Dina’s rear pushed forward at once with a slimy sounding explosion.

“YYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

A second pair of legs sprouted fully formed from the redhead’s buttocks. A grotesque vision out of their wildest dreams. Both women yelled uncontrollably, Dina stood up on her two pairs of legs, pulling her hair as looked down at them.

They were real.

They were hers.

She could use them to move, shake the ten extra toes, feel the wetness caused by orgasms on the floor with her new pair of barefoot soles.

“How is this happening?! How is this possible?!” logical questions for an illogical situation. “I HAVE FOUR LEGS!”

As Carlota saw her panicked mutated friend stepping around with double the feet she came to the gnarly realisation that she slowly spoke out loud as if she was in a trance.

“You… You don’t have four legs… You have… six limbs…”

Dina looked at her, she couldn’t take any more.

“What do you mean with thaaaaaAHHHHHHHHHHHHHT!”

Between the four thighs Dina’s crotch pulsed.

“Six limbs… Like an insect… a bug…” Carlota stopped a moment before finishing the sentence, staring at her friend’s swollen vulva as it opened and closed with needy fluctuations, a spark of amazement in her terrified tone. “A mantis.”

“Nnnnnnnnnnnno! No! Don’t say thaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Dina’s pelvis was pushed backwards and she felt the pull in her stomach. Forced to open her legs by the reforming of her hips she put her hands on her front thighs, curling her toes, moaning as loudly as possible. The mass of her rear expanded, stretching beyond its limits. Her pierced pussy and anus grew to absurd proportions, squeezed together at the end of the forming appendage, at a slower pace than the abrupt sprouting of her extra legs, but still too quickly for someone that desired nothing but for the changes to end and reverse.

Comfort and discomfort, mammal and insect.

The reshaping flesh was filled with strange organs and unusual sensations.

An utterly inhuman sight.

“Your abdomen…” Carlota whispered.

“MY ASS!” cried Dina, twisting her neck as much as she could to look at the heavy protuberance that now hung from her rear. “This is not happening to me! WHYYYY! Fuuuuuck! FUUUUUUUUUUUCK! I was going on a date tonight!

The bug-to-be-woman put her hands on top of her abdomen, the skin was trembling, tense, very warm. She slammed a fist against her abdomen, the impact cracked the skin as if it was a dead leaf and from the cracks leaked a greenish substance.

“I’M NOT A BUG! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

Dina grabbed her head, yelling.

At the same time, on top of her rear and on top of her abdomen, a slimy sound was followed by a piercing pinch. The skin tore apart from the inside, failing as if it was nothing in a spectacular burst of metamorphosis. On her head, above her nose, a pair of antennae sprouted, on her abdomen, more remarkably, a pair of wings. Two sets of pinkish translucent insect wings attached one after the other to her abdomen and what was left of her waist. The human remains fell off from the flapping wings, dry, wrinkled, dust, beneath them was revealed the abdomen’s carapace, it was a lush lime-green shade and bore the brand new shine of an exoskeleton in the making.

The wings flapped, but their owner was too large to fly.

For now…

“NOOOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Absolute despair.

Her pupils shrank into dark points as the rest of her eyes turned yellow, her skin cracked, more of the green carapace surfacing while her waist shrank.

“NOOOOO!”

A sort of mantis drider.

“Not my arms! NOT MY HANDSHHHHHHHHH!”

The antennas were swinging in distress, on the bottom edges of each of her arms a line of pointy spikes sprouted, her hands lost their fingers when the curved hook like pincers of a mantis front legs emerged, curved like scythes. Legs snapped and gained one extra segment above the thighs, arms one at their end, shoulders compressed.

Dina focussed her attention on her horrified flatmate.

“Ca-Carlottta… Am a monster! Am a f-f-freakkkk!”

Her crackling voice made her seem even more nightmarish.

“Don’t get too close!” pleaded Carlota.

Dina didn’t listen to her demands, maybe because her ears were detaching. With insect-like moves, almost predatory, she moved over Carlota, putting her middle legs on top of the couch and her wet pincers over Carlota’s trembling shoulders. Carlota couldn’t look away from her transforming friend, Dina’s face was breaking, one of her yellowish eyes swelling quicker than the other. She was so close that Carlota noticed the mirriad of tiny hexagonal shapes covering the surface of the cornea.

When Dina spoke her mouth swung in strange ways.

“Help-p-p kkkkk! Tis your fault-t-t-t! Tat tat wash y-y-your ide-de-dea!”

Carlota’s hands had ended over Dina’s boobs.

“How could we know this would happen?!” she wept. 

“I d-d-dun kar-r-re! I kank breath-th-th! HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELPPPPP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKIKIKIIIIIIIIIIKK!”

Fear made Carlota squeeze the tits. With that last long shout Dina’s face was torn in two by her mantis head. The large yellow eyes took most of the space, the mouth spread into four lateral pincers, red hair and her piercing dropping away. Dina jumped backwards, standing on her back legs, like a horse or a centaur, kicking the air with her front ones, losing every shred of human skin.

Her boobs had been left in Carlota’s hand, where they also crumbled into pinkish dust, leaving the nipple piercings in her flatmate’s hands. 

A woman sized mantis in the middle of the living room.

“KEKEKEKEEELP! HEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!”

Seeing Dina’s fractured voice coming out of the mantis’ head was bizarre, but it helped Carlota to snap out from her terrified trance. When the body of the insect began to compress and shrink she leapt away from the couch and ran towards the kitchen, knocking down one of the living room’s lamps.

Alone in the room Dina shrank, her voice diminishing with her size.

“Heeeeeeelp! Tis ka-kant happe to me! Am a WORM! A wommmmh! Pliiiii! Kikikiki! Helppp! Kant be buuuuu…!”

Diminishing, until all that was left was a mantis.

A mantis sized mantis.

Her exoskeleton was pristine lime green, six legs, an alien body. The magic that had robbed her of everything had decided, for some arbitrary reason, to reshape some of her piercings so they remained in her body, a couple in her face and the one in her sex organ at the end of her abdomen.

Carlota came back with a crystal glass in her hand.

The woman walked slowly until she saw the mantis jumping around on the floor, she got to her knees and put the glass over the insect, trapping it. Inside the glass the mantis kept jumping, insectoid moves with human intent. The flickering light of the overturned lamps cast their light over the pierced mantis and the mantis' shadow was projected across the wall.

A large shadow for such a small thing.

With her hands on her beating chest Carlota realised the shadow was odd and big… it was Dina’s naked human silhouette, still terrified of her fate, that’s all that was left of the woman she had been.

Carlota gulped… 

She pulled up the sleeve of her pyjamas, on her right arm, above the wrist, in bright red ink… a ladybug tattooed on her skin…

Now that Dina was a mere bug… how long could it be until she ran out of luck and the tickling of crawling ran through her skin?

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[antihibikase2]

You were more careful than anyone else in the village- Bianca was the one everyone fussed over the most, and young Hugh could be a bit reckless at times, not thinking things through.

In your group, you were the most cautious, even if you spent as much time as your friends scouring for trinkets that sank from the world above.

You did not let shiny treasures catch you off guard, nor did you interact with the treats that humans skewered on their hooks.

But you were caught.

And by an obvious trap too- a net obscured by the sand below you, where you found Gummy napping underneath the ray of sunlight.

You do not place the blame on your friend no matter how dumb of a decision that was- all you can do is cradle the Pyukumuku close to your chest as you assessed your surroundings.

You hoped that Bianca and Hugh alerted the rest, but you hoped your brother did not hear of this. He did not have the best experience with humans after all, especially with how poorly they treated Sharpedo.

Your captors placed you in a tub of water within a cage; not wanting you dead, but not wanting you free either.

They spoke about scraping the scales off your tail and making a fortune, and when they ask what to do with you once they got what they wanted, the captain of the ship offhandedly remarks about exchanging you for a hefty sum of gold at the nearby exhibit.

While they were discussing amongst themselves, you spot a peculiar crewmate with a red bandana and warm brown eyes, looking over your cage with what seemed to be wonder.

Then you noticed he was making his way towards you, keys barely hidden in his coat.

As the rest of the crew started to drink and cheer at the thought of their massive fortune, the cage is slightly opened and the crewmate takes you into his arms.

"I'll toss you overboard," He says, a worried smile on his face. "Once I do, swim as far as you can, okay?"

He had a nice smile, and an even nicer voice.

But, you could only nod as you could not speak their language.

As you and Gummy are tossed off the ship, the crewmate sneaks out of the scene to blend in with the rest, while those at the dock are too distracted to hear the splash of your body against the deep blue surface.

You hold Gummy tightly, not looking back once, even as you bump into Bianca and alert the town of your return.

You find yourself grounded in your quarters as you listen to Bianca's father admonish your brother Grimsley for not keeping a better eye on you. You would feel sorry for him if you were not too busy thinking about that nice human that helped you out.

As you start to imagine the thousands of scenarios in which you two could meet, a sea witch from afar takes note of the wish blooming in your chest.

[feeling-pushy]

Wishy-Witchy Waters

Part One

🐟 Authors note: This is my first time sharing something like this. I don't often write so hopefully it's good! Don't know how many parts there will be but it'll probably be a lot ^^'🐟

Morven was a simple merman, he enjoyed living in his small village hidden just past the Pacific reef, where everyone knew everyone. It was a tight-knit community where neighbors helped one another, and everyone lived carefree lives as they enjoyed their days frolicking in the warm summer waters as they were wont to do.

Morven himself, despite only living here for little over a year, felt quite welcomed here and enjoyed selling his wares in his small stall along with a few other merchants.

While the other merchants tended to offer a more specialized craft, for example, the merchant across from him in the central square where they worked was a talented trumpet fish merman. He hunted and sold freshly caught seafood like fish, crabs, and shellfish.

The mermaid in the stall adjacent to himself, a lovely octopus mermaid, was incredibly talented as well. She had discovered hydrothermal vents not far off from where they lived and used this natural source of high-temperature heat for firing pottery and crafting glassware using recycled sea glass.

There was one who gathered human trash and sold the most useful bits for a fair price and another that crafted nets and clothes woven from the various ocean fibers that could be found around here.

Morven kept it simple, he sold trinkets, such as colorful stones, sea glass, and seashells that he found. He crafted some of these things into little chimes, hairpins, brooches, and headbands or he just sold them as is.

They weren’t particularly useful but he was proud of what he made. As a dugong merman he tended to take things slow, and finding little trinkets and trading with the other craftsmen to make his little art pieces suited him fine. He really never wanted for anything, the one exception to this was, The Sea Witch.

Every odd day he appeared from over the sand dunes from the small shack he lived in far from everyone else, his presence was like a blight to the cheery residence of their little community, as he stalked the markets in search of rare ingredients.

He had quite the imposing build that mirrors the strength of a shark, a dorsal fin sat on his lower back; his dark grey tail fluke was elongated and muscular. His eyes were cold, abyssal pools of black that studied everything in an intelligent and calculating manner that unsettled most. His mouth naturally sat at a scowl and he often bared his sharp teeth at the folks who stared at him for too long, causing them to flee.

Whenever The Sea Witch came to town most mermaids went out of their way to avoid him. And while there were a suitable number of merchants in this town, few wanted to do business with the witch, only ever doing so when directly threatened. The only exception to this was Morven himself.

He was a bit embarrassed to admit that he captivated him. But every time he looked at those black opalescent eyes, he wanted to get lost in them, to swim their depths. Morven got flustered every time he thought about it. Most merfolk thought that this willingness to interact with The Sea Witch was him being brave, or naïve, but really it was just his unabashedly attraction that no one seemed to notice.

Not even The Sea Witch himself seemed to notice Morven’s longing looks or his failed attempts of trying to flirt with him.

But at least, since it seemed like Morven was unafraid of the Sea Witch it meant that made him his most regular costumer. Today seemed to be no exception as the Sea Witch seemed to directly head Morven’s way. He gave the Sea Witch his biggest, most welcoming smile as he floated outside his stall, “Good morning, friend! Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Have you collected all the seashells I commissioned from you?” he spoke bluntly.

 “Ah yes, the ones you requested I find for you. I got them right here!”

Morven reached under the counter and presented a small box, the witch opened it and studies the assortment of shells, picking them up in his scarred hands, Morven took a moment to study them as he often hid them from view over his cloak.

The skin on the Sea Witch’s hands were almost ghostly white compared to the rest of his warm tanned skin, this was due to the extensive scarring, mostly prominent in his hands, but also extending past them and reaching up to his elbows in a delicate webbing of thick white scar tissue. Morven wondered briefly what hands like those would feel like? Would they be as coarse as they appear, or would they be secretly soft to the touch?

He must’ve stared at them for too long though, as the witch catches him and is quick to hide his hands away with a cold expression, realizing the mistake he Morven quickly got back on topic.

“Ahem, as you can see, I’ve got some cowrie, abalone, naticidae, clam, and olive shells. Not to mention this beauty right here!"

Morven brings up another package from beneath his counter, this one wrapped in cloth which he unfurls to reveal a rather large Triton’s Trumpet Shell.

"Some of those shells were tricky to find, especially this hefty bad boy, but I knew a couple of folks who travel outside the reef and I was able to make some deals, still makes for a mighty fine collection of shells if I do say so myself!” he exclaimed pride written all over his beaming face.

This seemed to perk up the witch some as he couldn’t resist picking up the Triton’s Trumpet to examine it fully, Morven could swear he almost saw a smile tug on the corners of his mouth which filled him with an even greater sense of pride.

The Sea Witch’s eyes pull away from the shell after a moment to meet Morven’s, which sent an electric shiver up his neck. “You’ve done some fine work merchant; I shall compensate you thusly.”

The Sea Witch then presented a payment of pearls and deep-sea gems which made Morven’s eyes widen, “Oh gee! That’s quite the fortune, I simply cannot accept-”

“Consider this a tip, to show my appreciation for all the work you have done for me in the past… I might not have need for these things soon anyway.” That last part was said cryptically which gave Morven some pause.

“Um, yes of course.’ He says after a moment as he takes the items and starts gathering them back together, ‘by the way… The Warm Waters festival is coming up here in the next couple of weeks, and perhaps you would be interested in going-”

“I don’t do festivals.”

The cold response was expected but Morven still deflated a little as he couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed, still he pulled his big smile back on, “Oh, ok then, I guess I’ll see you next time then?”

“We shall see…” The Sea Witch said before departing leaving Morven to wonder just what he meant by that.

The Sea Witch’s hut was far off from everyone else in the town, which was what he preferred, and was modestly sized for a lone merman such as himself. Built with his own two hands, there was just enough room for himself, his books and for all his brewing and magical equipment.

When he found and settled in this town a decade ago, looking for a purpose in his life. Once he had built his home and settled, he went looking for that purpose, which he found in his first potion book.

It had been a chance find in the market, but it had intrigued him greatly and after reading through it and experimenting, he found he was pretty proficient in the art, so he kept with it. Collecting more tombs over the years and mastering the art of crafting and brewing potions for himself, soon he had a mastery over the deep sea magics and more tombs than he could read in a lifetime.

Yet he found himself longing for something… more. He wasn’t quite sure what it was he longed for, but there was a restless feeling in his heart that yearned for it, ached for that something.

It was this aching search for that something that had led to him floating in the middle of this large sandy strand, embarking on his greatest experiment yet. Out in this strand he threw his ingredients into his cauldron, usually it sat in his hat but he had dragged it out here for the ritual, which had been a real pain to do, but the effort would be worth it.

Eyes closed, he took a moment to clear his mind and focus on his deep hidden desire. He held his breath, then slowly let it go as he held the intention in his heart and mind. In his cauldron sat his bubbling brine, he mixed in a handful of sargassum, three stalks of bladderwrack, and half a dozen cowrie shells ground into a fine dust. Stirring the mixture gently, the concoction turned a dull rusty red.

One by one, he added his remaining collection of small shells, one abalone shell, two moon, four clam shells, and five olive. He spoke an incantation as he did so, "With these gifts of the sea, my wish is set free. Let it grow and manifest, as I will it to be."

Mixing slowly, he observed the brine as the rust color gave away to a pleasant baby blue. As he continued to mix, he closed his eyes and thought again what it was he was wishing for. There was tugging, a yearning in his heart. He was so tired of small village, he just to be somewhere better than this place full of ignorant fools who did not understand him, he wanted something… someone to understand him.

Someone he would be able to give his love to?

As soon as that thought crossed his mind he flushed and shook the thought away. No that surely wasn’t it, it couldn’t be that simple. Surely, he desired transcendence or something more profound.

Besides there was no one in this village that could ever love him as he was, they all feared him, if he wanted to have someone to give his love too, he would have to create a whole new person. Which just wasn’t an option for him at this time, and building a homunculus was currently beyond his current abilities, truly he had no one.

Finally, the potion settled and changed color once more, now a ghostly white, it was semi opaque. The last step was to fill the Triton’s Trumpet shell and consume some of the liquid for himself. He grabbed the wrapped package and removed the cloth to reveal the large shell, which shined in the full moon’s light.

As he inspected it again, he noticed that inside the shell sat a few turtle grass fruits. The witch blinked at this, this had not been there when he had looked at it this morning, and no one has touched this shell besides himself and that merchant Morven. Then did that mean the merchant had slipped this in? He seemed the type to do such a thing.

Morven was such a kind individual from what the Sea Witch had observed, his bushel of whiskers that sat upon his upper lip, were always up turned into a big smile whenever he saw him, everything about Morven screamed big. Not in height necessarily, The Sea Witch length beat out Morven in that regard, but it was in the way he held himself, and his big booming voice.

Whenever he laughed, the Sea Witch could swear such a laugh could carry all the way to the Atlantic. His big arms were always used to help other merfolk carry heavy packages, yet his rotund form made him seem so soft and huggable, it made the witch wondered how it would feel to be held by him.

The Sea Witch frowned as he pulled the fruits out of the shell, his chest drummed quickly and his stomach twisted a bit. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling at this moment, but it made him uncomfortable; he set the fruits down as he decided to concentrate on the task at hand.

He could not get distracted now right now when he was this close. Dipping the Triton’s Trumpet into the warm bubbling mixer he holds the Triton’s Trumpet aloft and speaks his final incantation.

"Blessed be the Dark Ocean Depths, take me as your own. In the waters' depths, my wish shall be sown. With this potion's power, grant what I desire deep within my core. In the ocean's sway, grant my wish, and change me forevermore.”

With those words spoken he brings and the mouth of the shell to his lips and tilts it back as he quickly downed the potion; it was still warm and he could feel the warmth of its contents make its way down and settle heavily into his solar plexus like a hot stone.

He stood there for a long moment, waiting, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking for or feeling, but he did not feel much different. He frowned as more time passed, but calmed himself, it probably needed more time to manifest. All he could do at this point was wait. He gave a sigh and went about cleaning up his mess.

By the time he was done it was morning when he crawled into his bed, he was exhausted, he curled up on himself a little as he tried not to worry. Still, he could not help but feel some doubt, what if it had not worked? What then? Was he truly doomed to always be left wanting? As his mind gave into the dredges of sleep, he could still feel the warmth of the potion as it still settled deep within him.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that the Sea Witch noticed the changes. It started with a feeling of nausea and light headaches, but that could be dismissed. Then came the fatigue and his mood would start to shift dramatically, he even almost cried once in front of some merfolk when he went out to town, all because he saw something pretty, but once again, he dismissed these signs.

It was not until he started to suffer from intense lower abdominal cramping that he started to be concerned, his nausea had also only gotten worse, which lead to him vomiting at random times or if he smelt something that churned his stomach.

It was because of these alarming changes that he actually went to seek out the doctor in his small village, something he almost never did. Usually, he was quite healthy and if he was ill, it was usually something small and he was knowledgeable enough to take care of himself, but this was not getting better, it was getting worse. So, he made the trip to see the doctor.

Meeting the doctor, the Sea Witch learned her name was Una, she was a zebra fish with large, expressive eyes that gleam with a combination of curiosity and warmth. Una had quite the bubbly demeanor, radiating an aura of optimism; she seemed ditzy in the Sea Witch’s opinion.

She had a penchant for playful giggles as she ushered the Sea Witch into her examination room and introduced herself to him. This rubbed the Sea Witch the wrong way at first and he quickly wondered if coming here was a mistake. But Una picked up on that quickly and started to tone it down, and now upon a second glance, it seemed that underneath the whimsical facade she held a brilliant and analytical glint in her eye which surprised the Sea Witch a little.

“Now before we begin just need to ask some basic questions, name?”

“… Sabastion.”

“What a lovely name.’ she says with a bright smile, ‘species?”

“Dolphin.”

Una looked up a bit in surprise, “Dolphin?”

“Yes, and what of it??” he says defensively, he knew most merfolk assumed he was a shark. Showed how little this village knew him. Course he did not do much to clear things up, but if they were going to assume that of him anyways, he might as well lean into and use that to his advantage. Less people are willing to mess with a mershark than a merdolphin.   

“I apologize if I offended you Sebastion, I’ll be sure to remember that and be more sensitive in the future.” Una says, seeming genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine…”  Sebastion gruffs.

“So, what brings you in here this morning? I believe this is the first time I’ve ever seen you come into my office.” Una asked, bright eyes focused on him.

“Yes, I am not often sick, and the last time I came to the doctor was a few years back, back when there was a different doctor. I honestly expected to see him and not you.”

“Ah Doctor. Sturgeon, yes? He retired two years ago! I trained under him to take his place.”

“I see, I trust your qualified then…”

“Well, I haven’t gotten any major complaints just yet.’ She said with a small smile, ‘but we can discuss myself and my life another time, let’s hear about you. How are you feeling?”

“Ah yes, well, I have been becoming increasingly sick the last few weeks. It started off as some light headaches and some bouts of nausea, but it has progressed to the point I am vomiting at random times of the day; my lower abdomen as also started cramping up as well.”

She writes this down on her clip board “I see, have you experienced any fevers?”

“No.”

“Any weakness in your muscles?”

“I have been feeling fatigued as well…”

“Alright, and you say you’re throwing up at random times of the day? Could you expand on that? Are you eating any specific foods or are there anything that you think could be triggering the nausea?”

“Well, it’s less when I eat, though certain foods have turned my stomach, it’s mostly when I smell something.”

“Hm, would you describe your sense of smell being somewhat sensitive as of late?”

“Yes actually.”

“Any excessive salivation in the mouth?”

“I suppose, I haven’t really given that much thought…”

“that’s alright.’ She says as she places the clip board down. She then approaches the witch, ‘I want to examine your abdomen and see if anything is sensitive or bloating, would you mind laying back?”

Sabastion nods as he lays back awkwardly, as he lay there, he felt weirdly vulnerable, Una began to lightly press against his stomach, starting high and working her way down slowly, “let me know if you feel any discomfort or pain alright?”

He nods as she continues to lightly press, once Una reached his lower abdomen the Sabastion made a small, involuntary, sound of pain. Una gave him a small sympathetic smile, “Sorry about that. I’ll be quick, now dose it hurt on just this side or both?”

 She presses on both sides and the he hums in discomfort, “both.”

“Alright.’ Una finally stops pressing and lets the Sabastion sit back up, ‘now one last thing I want to do before I give you my thoughts, can I get some of your blood?”

“Why?”

“I want to test your levels; it will help me pin down the diagnosis more concretely.”

“… Alright.”

“Great! I will be right back with a needle and some vials.” Una says before setting out of the examination room.

She returned quickly after and took a few samples of his blood, she then left again to go test them, leaving the Sabastion alone with his thoughts. As he sat alone in the room waiting for her to return the Sabastion’s nerves were starting to get to him. What if this was worse than he thought? What if he was seriously ill? So lost he was in his worrying that he about leapt off the table when Una opened the door again a few minutes later.

“Sorry did I startle you?” she asked, seeing how jittery he had become.

“No, I’m fine.” He says regaining his composer.

“Good, now I’ve gotten the results back right here. Now, based on the symptoms and concerns you’ve described to me, as well as the blood test I am fairly confident in this diagnosis.”

“Which is...?”

“That you’re pregnant.”

He blinked, “I’m sorry?”

“You’re pregnant.”

It took the Sabastion a full minute to process what she said, “What? No that is not possible, I am a male.”

“Well since all merfolk can change sex characteristics based on their needs, if you’ve been sexually active and were the recipient of your partner, than it is perfectly normal for it to potentially take. But rest assured you will be able to carry a baby to term without any complications.” Una assures.

  “But I haven’t had sex before.” Sabastion admits quickly.

 “You haven’t?”

“No, I haven’t, so I can’t possibly be pregnant!”

“I see, can you think of any recent event that might explain the sudden change then?”

“No, I-’ Sabastion stops in his tracks as he is hit with a sudden realization, the potion, ‘I… recently performed a ritual and drank a potion, which was supposed to grant my deepest wish…”

“You drank a wish potion?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then did you perhaps wish to be pregnant?”

“I did not wish for anything specifically… I just wished to be changed.”

“Well, a baby would certainly be a big change.”

“I-I suppose…”

Una thought on that, “Would you mind if I did a quick pelvic exam and check what your current sexual characteristics are? That might clear things up.”

Sabastion swallowed nervously but nodded. She then had him lay back down, he did not think he could feel any more exposed or vulnerable than last time; his stomach twisted into knots as he heard Una slip on some gloves.

“Take some deep slow breaths, this will feel uncomfortable but I’ll try to be as quick as possible.”

Sabastion sucked in a breath and let it out slow, he tried not to react too much as she examined him, but his fingers did start to dig into the table and he let out a low hum of discomfort as she worked.

“Sorry, I know, I’m almost done hon.’ She comforts, sensing this, ‘… yes it seems like your sheath has retracted and become a slit. In response to the pregnancy, it’s also the reason you have felt so much cramping lately, your body was changing to accommodate your pregnancy.” Una starts as she pulls back and takes off her gloves.

“So then…”

“All signs are pointing towards it yes.”

Sabastion sits up and runs a hand threw his long hair, he felt weak, Una placed a hand on his shoulder, “I know this must be a lot to take in, like I said this is a big change, so if you want to think about your options, you are free to do so. You are still early into your first quadmester from the looks of it so there is still plenty of time.”

“Quadmester?”

 “You mentioned you’re a dolphin species, yes?’ Sabastion nods and the doctor continues, ‘Well while most mermaids carry for nine months, the length of time it takes for a merperson to carry their baby to term usually depends on the species. Either way those months are divided up into segments of three in order to track the progress and guess when you might be due. You are part of that later half who carry for 12 months, so we divide your pregnancy off into four three-month segments, which is why we call it quadmester.” Una explained.

This was a lot to take in, he started to place a hand on his belly but stopped himself short before looking at her, “I-I need time to think about this.”

“Of course, I will give you the necessary info to read over and let’s meet again in two weeks all right? Then we can discuss what it is you want to do.”

He nods as she grabs some pamphlets and hands them over to him.

As the Sabastion left the office, pamphlets hidden under his cloak his mind was still a whirlpool of thoughts. How could this have happened? He knew he wanted the potion to change him, but not like this! Why would the potion even react like this? Had he been secretly desiring a baby all this time…? He wasn’t sure of his own feelings, the overwhelming confusion started to bring tears to his eyes as it continued to plague him. He was so caught up in his thoughts and trying to fight back his on-coming tears, he did not notice the person in front of him until much too late, colliding with the individual and the two were sent to the floor.

Morven was momentarily dazed as he sat on the sea floor, he had been carrying some freshly collected seashells when he seemed to have collided with someone. Morven’s seashells scattered across the sea floor around him as he sat there. Once his head cleared, he realized what had happened and in a small panic he quickly looked over at the merperson in question.

Imagin his surprise when he saw it was the Sea Witch sitting there equally as dazed, with papers scattered around him. As the witch glanced up from his daze, Morven saw that there were tears in his eyes, which made his heart sink. Had he hurt him when they crashed into each other? Morven quickly got up and offered a hand to him.

“I’m so sorry, here let me help!”

The Sea Witch looked at his hand and offered him his elbow instead, but at least he was allowing Morven to help him back up, helping to steady him as he seemed to be a bit woozy, “How are you doing? Are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

The Sea Witch finally registered that Morven was talking to him and a look of surprised crossed his face, the merchant quickly offered him a smile.

“Ah, hello merchant…” the witch said after a moment.

“Hey there yourself!” he offered back with a smile.

“I apologize, I had not been looking where I was going.”

“No, no that was completely my fault! No need to apologize.”

“Still, I seemed to have caused you to spill your wares.”

“Oh, that’s fine, I’ll just pick those up, here let me get those papers for you too.”

The Sea Witch jumped at that and quickly stooped down to start picking up the papers, “N-No need! Allow me to help you!” he said quickly as he also began scooping up Morven shells and helping him put them back in his box.

Morven found the gesture to be surprisingly kind for the witch, who always seemed so cool and distant, he never seemed to type to want to help so seeing this new side to him made Morven a bit giddy.

They continued to pick up shells together and once or twice their hands almost touch, but the witch was quick to notice and pull away his hands before they could. Their eyes would also occasionally meet and both would quickly pull those away as well, Morven was becoming more and more flustered as he continued to be close to the shark-like individual.

Finally, the two finished collecting all their split items and Morven looked at the witch with a big grateful smile, “I ‘preciate the help there friend!”

“It was no trouble…” The Sea Witch then began to turn away and Morven suddenly realized this was rare chance to ask something of him, “Uh wait one moment!” The Sea Witch turned back around to look at him, a questioning look on his face.

Morven swallowed nervously before speaking, “Well, I know last time we talked I mentioned that Warm Waters Festival was going to start soon, and well it’s tonight and I was maybe wondering if…”

“I believe I mentioned before I wasn’t interested in festivals.”

“Yes, you did. But, well, I’ve never seen you at the festival before and I think you might end up enjoying it. If you want, you could come to the festival, with me, I’m sure it could be a fun time.” Morven says with a small nervous smile.

Sabastion looked at the merchant suspiciously, what was this dugong’s angle? He seemed so adamant about getting him to come to this festival. Did he pity him? Or worse was this some sort of set up, where he and the other merchants would turn up and mock him publicly, in front of everyone? Sabastion studied his eyes, his eyes reminded Sebastion of the little pieces of grayish green sea glass he often sold, and despite his suspicions they seemed sincere.

Sabastion thought on it, should he go? He didn’t really have a reason not too, other than his overall weariness of being out in public for that long. He fiddled with his papers and suddenly reminded of his current predicament. He had a lot he needed to think about in regard to the unborn child inside him. But if he was completely honest, he didn’t really want to think about it right now, the mere thought overwhelmed him. He could really use a distraction, then maybe he could come back to the subject with a clearer mind.

“… Alright, I’ll go with you.” Sebastion says after a moment.

 He watched the merchant’s eyes light up and his signature large grin spread across his face, “great! Um should I come pick you up or?”

“Let’s meet at the entrance of the festival.”

“Sure! It starts in the evening so I’ll wait for you then! This will be fun I promise.”

“It better be or I’ll have no choice but to curse you and your entire bloodline.” Sabastian jokes in a deadpan way.

Theres a moment of silence and Sabastion realized he shouldn’t have said that, suddenly feeling flustered as Morven stared at him, it seemed like his joke did not land as intended.

But then Morven suddenly bursts out laughing, big and booming, “I’m sorry but did you just make a joke? I didn’t think that was something you could do!” he teased his smile somehow wider than before.

Sabastion became increasingly flustered as he felt his heart race in his chest, his even felt his face begin to redden, but he quickly covered it up by giving him a cold scowl, “I am perfectly capable of making jokes, to think I cannot is insulting.”

“Hehe sorry, sorry! Just never heard you joke like that before. Little dark, but I like it. I hope I can hear more jokes from you in the future.”

“Yes, well, I must get going. I shall see you at the festival.” Sabastion said quickly, turning and swimming away before Morven could see his reddening face.

That merchant was frustrating, Sabastion decided, him laughing and complimenting him like that really frazzled the witch and he almost reconsidered going to the festival all together. But he had made up his mind, he needed a distraction, and at least Morven was nice enough to take some sort of pity on him, surely it was pity that made Morven invite Sabastion to the festival.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy, and as he swam back to his hut Sabastion wondered how he should dress for the festival.

[btsgreyvibes]

Ughhhh I got the idea of Shima Enaga familiar Jungkook and his witch Namjoon being wooed by the others in my head and now it won't leave me alone.

Shima Enaga Jungkook is incredibly soft and small as a familiar. A rare type and an indicator of how powerful Namjoon is. Namjoon owns a very popular magic shop.

Jungkook can often be found sleeping in the hood of Namjoon's hoodies or in pockets. He likes to nest in Namjoon's hair, little feet clinging to the strands as he watches everything. Namjoon puts up little rope ladders and netting around the store so Jungkook can climb his way up if he wants, ivy and branches happily reaching down to help the little bird if he finds himself stuck.

He can't fly well due to past injury. His right wing doesn't extend right anymore, the feathers look different than the rest of his body and if you look close enough you could see scars. He keeps the wing tucked in tight and uses the left for everything from keeping his balance to gesturing to things.

He likes to walk around the store. Little stick legs going full speed as he goes from one side to the other or doing little hops that makes everyone coo.

He peeps until people follow him if he knows they need help finding something, tugs on shoelaces when he wants to be picked up, and will carefully climb up shelved until he reaches what he wants. He even helps people check out sometimes, ignoring their surprise as he carefully shifts the coins around with his beak to count them before pushing them off behind the counter into a basket Namjoon leaves out for this exact reason.

He likes to be put in the window when it rains. One of the big windows up front has a little ledge full of trinkets and a woven basket stuffed with small, soft cuts of fabric. He sits there and watch the rain, occasionally chirping a greeting out to the people coming in.

Namjoon is an amazing witch, skilled and powerful enough to be of assistance for almost everything. Sometimes he loses customers though because of Jungkook, because he let his familiar get hurt. Even though familiars are notoriously protective and possessive, very likely to take injury instead of letting their witch risk it.

Namjoon 'should' have known better, aka should have been a better witch.

He doesn't argue with those people. Namjoon waited a long time to meet Jungkook and then he let the familiar get hurt. He's learning to live with that even though the guilt eats away at him sometimes. It wasn't his fault though and Jungkook will attack anyone who says otherwise.

The other 5 are customers. Quickly becoming enamored with the witch, their own magic curling out to brush against his every time they see him.

Jungkook isn't please when they flirt with Namjoon the first time, standing up from his spot in Namjoon's hair and working his way the front and peeping unhappily the whole time.. It doesn't help that they're all cooing over him while Namjoon looks done with everything. He pecks Taehyung when he can't help but reach out, little beak barely big enough to be a pinch.

They've never been side eyed by a bird before but Jungkook slowly warms up to them as time passes. Even letting them help him up or down from spots and eventually clinging to them like he does Namjoon. Sitting on Seokjin's shoulders, in the hood of Yoongi's jacket, in Taehyung's hair, the pockets of Hoseok's sweats and Jimin's hat.

If they plan on courting Namjoon than they also have to win over Jungkook, which wouldn't be an issue but Jungkook doesn't shift. Like ever. They've been visiting the shop for months and still have no idea what Jungkook looks like. Don't get them wrong, they adore the little bird but they want Namjoon to be a part of their cover, they want Jungkook to be a part of their coven.

Witches age differently than normal humans. Namjoon is older than some of them but far from actually being the oldest of their group. Jungkook is young, he hasn't even hit 50 years yet and now he'll live as long as Namjoon since they've bonded.

They could treat that as the main reason Namjoon is so protective of the familiar but there's more to it. A desperation to it that makes them protective of the two without knowing why and fretting over Jungkook almost as much as Namjoon.

It takes time but they get the story. They get told about a young Namjoon so happy to finally have a familiar and Jungkook so innocent and hopeful. Namjoon says they should have paid more attention. That he should have watched over Jungkook better, should have been better but he was young. Rare familiars are worth millions and Jungkook was very rare. They had already bonded but bonds could be broken and reformed. It was risky, more times than not the familiar dying from the stress but people were greedy and willing to risk it.

A group of people took Jungkook, they got close to Namjoon and once they thought they could get away with it they made their move. They tried to break the bond and it almost killed Jungkook. The whole thing ended better than it could have but it left Namjoon overly anxious and Jungkook with a lame wing.

The 5 take a moment to hope Namjoon was vengeful and everyone involved with hurting Jungkook was killed. Hurting a familiar is a huge and unforgivable crime, punishable by whatever the witch of said familiar deems fit.

It's easier to deal with the residual pain as a bird. The wound itself had healed but it left behind heavy scarring and lingering pain. The scaring on his human form was extensive and Jungkook got self conscious of it being so visible.

Namjoon's reluctance to fully let the others in and allow them to court he and Jungkook suddenly makes sense and they're even more determined to win the witch and his familiar over.

Eventually they get to meet Jungkook. Human Jungkook.

One day a young witch and their cat familiar visit the stop, neither one necessarily doing anything wrong but something is heavy in the air. The cat keeps watching Jungkook while the witch looks around. Jungkook sits on the edge of the counter overlooking everything, occasionally giving a little chirp in greeting when some of the younger ones walk by.

They should have done something, should have realized what was going to happen before it did but familiars aren't victims to their instincts. The cat should have acknowledged Jungkook as another familiar and moved on.. but it didn't.

The cat jumps up and just manages to swipe Jungkook with his paw. It's enough to pull him off the ledge. It's enough for a little blood to bead up on snow white feathers. It's enough that Jungkook tries to catch himself and everyone can clearly see one wing doesn't work right, doesn't help him slow down at all.

He hits the ground with a little thump and stays there.

No one even gets a chance to move before everything goes to hell.

The 5 manage to get everyone out quickly, snarling at the witch and the cat to never come back, and close the shop. Puddles soak into the floor and lightning still flashes up by the ceiling. Thunder rumbles a warning when they get close to Namjoon but settle back down into a soft hum. The shop is a mess, storms aren't meant to be contained in buildings after all, but that's not the pressing issue at hand.

Namjoon sits on floor, shaking and frantic as he stays hunched protectively over Jungkook. Big hands quivering but so careful as he brushes at the small beads of blood and carefully helps the familiar draw his wing back into its tucked position. He pulls Jungkook into his chest and curls up around him, breathing harshly and blinking back tears.

The next day someone else greets them at the store. He's incredibly pretty and quiet as he nervously tugs his oversized sweater over his hands. It takes them longer than they want to admit to realize who he is. And what a great example of magic at work because Jungkook is almost the exact opposite of his animal form.

They're smitten, especially after they get him to smile at them. Namjoon watches them like a hawk as they talk to him, more than ready to jump in and intervene if needed. Jungkook makes a small noise at him and noses at his neck briefly to get him to relax, Namjoon sinking into it and finally relaxing enough to enjoy all his favorite people together.

Happy ot7 ending of course.

I just needed to word barf my feelings about this really quick.

[littleperilstories]

Whumptober 2022: #21 :: Famous Last Words

Whumptober Masterpost Coughing up Blood | “You’re safe now.” | “Take me instead.”

Whumpees: Ash Levin, Laramie Jonas, Ivy Levin

Whumper: Douglas Heminworth

@whumptober-archive / @whumptober

CW: fantasy poison/drugs, restraints (rope), gag (cloth), death threats (verbal, gun pointing), blood (coughing, vomiting)

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The Curiosity Collector

Ash’s body was slick with sweat. Enough time had passed that the paralysing poison had worn off, and now rope dug into his body, pulled tight. If he could see clearly, he might have seen blood flowing from scraped, rope-burned skin on his wrists. But all Ash could do was scream.

Eternities. Eternities had passed since Douglas Heminworth, collector of curious creatures, had dosed Ash with the potion that was supposed to steal away his senses and his free will.

And it had not worked.

But the poison was like fire in Ash’s blood, and his throat was raw from screaming. Everything blazed, everything was a flame licking his skin, everything was a torment.

I’m going to die here.

Coherent thoughts were few and far between in Ash’s mind, but this was one that was simple and true enough to repeat over and over again.

I am going to die here.

And for what? Because some depraved human had wanted another witch for his collection of mindless slaves, and Ash had been the unlucky winner of the role?

“I don’t understand it,” Heminworth said, staring down at him. It was all he was doing now. He didn’t even seem bothered by the screaming since he'd stuffed a cloth in Ash’s mouth to muffle the sound. “Why doesn’t it work on you?”

Ash’s body was slick with sweat. Enough time had passed that the paralysing poison had worn off, and now rope dug into his body, pulled tight. If he could see clearly, he might have seen blood flowing from scraped, rope-burned skin on his wrists.

But all Ash could do was scream.

#

Douglas was utterly delighted when little Ash Levin’s would-be rescuers—who had been spotted by one of his patrolmen at least a mile up the road—barrelled into his house. He didn’t even have Conri or the others fetch them for him. He let the male and female creatures walk right into his study.

“Hello there,” he said pleasantly. “Welcome. Would you like some tea?”

The female went for him almost immediately. “Where is my brother, you sick human bastard?”

Douglas didn’t move. What she didn’t know, what none of his collectibles knew—even Ash Levin and his damned disobedient mind—was that amongst the hoard of rings and ornaments around his neck was one particularly exceptional talisman.

Protection from harm.

Witches were sickening creatures, all of them, but some produced useful trinkets every now and then.

And while he wore the protection charm, Douglas reassured himself smugly, he was nigh on untouchable.

The girl flew back as the charm came to life, casting a protective net around him. Douglas laughed.

The male was preternaturally still as he watched the girl leap back to her feet.

“How are you doing that?” she spat. “Humans don’t have magic.” She bared her teeth. “They don’t have a right to magic.”

“And yet,” Douglas said, smiling at her, “it appears that I do.”

He flicked his gaze back to the male, who still hadn’t moved. A handsome specimen, that one, if a little unnerving, the way he stared.

“You don’t fear us,” he said.

“But you fear me,” Douglas returned.

“You took Ash. We want him back.”

Douglas laughed. “All right.”

The look on their faces was absolutely priceless.

“I’m afraid,” Douglas said, “that there’s something wrong with that one. He must be damaged in some way—he does not suit my purposes, I’m afraid. I have no more use for him.”

The talisman bloomed warmth against his skin, casting the protection spell just in time before the male drove a knife into his heart.

“Foolish boy,” Douglas said. “Didn’t you learn from her mistake?”

The female was still panting, trembling with barely curbed rage. “Take me to my brother. Now.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or I will tear this house of horrors apart brick by brick until I find him.”

Douglas grinned. “Of course, witchling. Follow me.”

#

Laramie knew this had to be a trap. There was nothing else it could be.

Why else would the human let them into his house so eagerly? Without a fight?

Ivy walked ahead, keeping pace with the human, her ring still glowing. She was going to pass out soon if she didn’t give her powers a rest. All magic has a cost—one of the immutable laws of witches’ magic.

The human led them down a staircase, and Laramie’s skin prickled. That humans so loved to be cooped up behind thick walls was beyond understanding. That they burrowed into the ground like worms, building entire rooms beneath their suffocating houses, was even more baffling. A warped, twisted way of living. He didn’t understand how it could possibly be living at all.

Ash was unconscious, bound with ropes to a wooden chair, his head hanging limply against his chest. Ivy gave a strangled cry and darted forward.

“He couldn’t take the potion,” the human said, his voice tinged with genuine disappointment, even sorrow. “He is utterly useless.”

Laramie’s entire body twitched. How dare he? How dare he speak about Ash Levin that way?

“I will find a way to end your life,” Laramie promised him.

The human smiled broadly. “We shall see, young man—er, witch.” He chuckled. “We shall see.”

“Ash!” Ivy was already slicing through the ropes with raw power, no blade in sight. “Ash, wake up, please, it’s me, it’s Ivy, wake up—”

“I’m sure he’s exhausted,” said the human. “He was in quite a lot of pain.”

Laramie’s knees buckled, but he managed to stay upright. “You will have me to reckon with, human, if he does not recover.”

“Yes, yes.” The man waved his hands in the air, unperturbed. “He’ll be fine. The potion will wear off. I imagine he’ll have rather a sore throat for a little while, though.”

The memory of the screams he and Ivy had heard ripped through Laramie’s mind.

“Ash, open your eyes.” Ivy ripped the cloth from Ash’s mouth. “I’m here, I’m going to take you home. You’re safe, you’re safe now. You’re going home.”

Ash gasped as he woke, and as his eyes opened, he began to cough. Flecks of blood flew from his mouth, painting grim speckles across Ivy’s shoulder. She gave a soft, shuddering gasp and wrapped him in an embrace.

“Ivy…”

The voice could not be Ash’s—weak, scraping, unfamiliar. Tears burned Laramie’s eyes.

What did this bastard do to you?

“Don’t talk, it’s all right,” Ivy said, pulling him upright. Laramie shot forward to catch Ash’s other arm before he tumbled to the floor.

“Am…I…dead?”

“No,” Laramie promised. “You’ve alive. We’ve got you.”

“Lar…”

“You’re going home.”

Across the room, a servant emerged from the shadows and pulled the basement door closed. The click sounded through the room, more deafening than anything Laramie had ever heard.

No. Laramie straightened his back. I fucking knew it. “What’s this now?”

The human was smiling, a slithery thing, false and corrupt. “There is one matter left to discuss.”

“Let us out,” Ivy growled, the glow of her ring illuminating the fanatical gleam in the man’s eyes. Laramie held onto Ash a little tighter. Just in case Ivy decided to leap at the human in an ill-fated second attempt to murder him.

“I’m afraid one of you is going to have to stay.” The man’s mouth quirked upwards slightly, but the beaming smile was gone, replaced with deadly seriousness. “I paid for those trappers to find me a witch, and I shall have one. This one is not good for what I need. One of you, however, will do nicely.”

Ivy snarled, “If you think that’s funny, human, you—”

“I assure you,” said the man, “I am being quite sincere.”

Another servant, blank-eyed and expressionless, had appeared in front of the closed basement door.

“If you refuse to cooperate,” the human went on, “I shall have to make some very difficult choices rather quickly.”

“Such as?” Calm, that’s what he was. Who he was. Calm, unruffled, never panicked. Laramie’s grip tightened on Ash.

“The most desirable—and advisable, I may say—solution is, of course, for one of you to remain here in place of young Ash, while the other takes him back to…” He waved his fingers vaguely. “...wherever he came from.” His eyes narrowed. “However, should that not be acceptable to the two of you, I’m afraid I will have to choose between keeping all three of you…or killing the lot of you.”

Laramie found he couldn't breathe.

“Of course…” The human’s smirk was back. “I could always just kill Ash right now, since he’s worthless to me, and keep the two of you…”

The man pulled a pistol, gleaming silver in the soft light of Ivy’s ring, and pointed it directly at Ash.

“No!”

The word was out of Laramie’s mouth almost before he’d finished thinking it. He’d found his breath again, but it was uneven, frayed, difficult to keep steady. He repeated himself, the room spinning around him. “No.”

The human’s gaze fell on him, his hand still raised, the barrel still directed squarely at Ash’s forehead. “Do you have a different resolution in mind?” he asked softly.

Ash’s silver eyes were dim as they took in the gun. Exhausted as they slid his gaze over to Laramie. Their fingers, still entwined, tightened against each other..

“Take me,” Laramie said, and he slipped away from Ash, hoping Ivy had strength enough to get him out herself. “Take me instead, then.”

“No,” Ash rasped. “Laramie, what are you—” He coughed, and more blood sprayed from his mouth. “Don’t do this, Lar, don’t—”

If I had to—to let him go—if it was best for him—I would.

“You heard me,” Laramie said. He didn’t look back at Ivy. At Ash. He kept his gaze on the human’s face. That wide, delighted grin. “I’ll stay. Let them go.”

The pistol was still pointed at Ash, but the hardness had gone from the man’s eyes. Joy, a drunken sort of triumph, danced there instead. “On your knees, boy.”

Shaking, Laramie knelt. The basement floor was cold against his legs.

“Put your hands where I can see them. One on each knee will do.”

As Laramie obeyed, he heard a sob from behind him. “Laramie, don’t—”

“What’s your name, witch?”

“Laramie.” He kept his eyes on his hands. He couldn’t face this, couldn’t face the human looming over him. “Laramie Jonas.”

The man nodded, repeating the name softly to himself, and then he swung his arm, the butt of the pistol cracking against the side of Laramie’s head. The world tilted.

“No!”

Ash had wrenched himself free of Ivy’s grasp, but he was not strong enough to stand. Laramie peered at him from where he lay on the floor, blinking blood out of his eyes.

Fight, that was what he always did. He fought back.

And he would.

As soon as Ash was safe.

“Hold your tongue, Ash Levin,” the human barked. “Laramie has made his decision. You’re free to go.” He grinned. “But if I ever see you here again—either of you—” The grin vanished. “I’ll kill him myself. I’ll make you watch. And then I’ll kill you.”

This time, it was the muzzle that connected with Laramie’s skin, pressing against his temple, cold and loaded with promise. “I suggest,” the human said, “you get out of here so Laramie and I may become better acquainted.”

“No—” Ash was gasping, crying out, coughing, his voice cracking. “Don’t do this, don’t do it to him, not him—”

“Get them out of here,” the human ordered, and the servants moved from the door.

Witches, Laramie realized too late. Their silver eyes glinted, giving them away for what they were. Witches doing the bidding of a human.

He did something to them to make them obey.

He’s going to do the same to me.

Ivy tried to fight them off, but her power was guttering. Just as he’d predicted.

I’ll find you again, Ash Levin, he promised silently, as the love of his life was dragged away, the agonized cries echoing into the night.

#

When Ash awoke, everything hurt.

The coppery tang in his mouth made him want to vomit. Why could he taste blood? Where was he? What had—

He sat up, and the motion made him cry out, then retch. What little he managed to bring up was tinged with pink.

Laramie.

Laramie.

Laramie.

Laramie.

He didn’t realize he was saying his love’s name out loud, didn’t realize he was screaming in his scoured sandpaper voice, until he felt Ivy’s hand on his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “He’s—”

He’s gone.

He’d stayed behind, taken his place in Douglas Heminworth’s collection.

Ash vomited again.

“Why?” he moaned. “How could he…”

Ivy was quiet. As Ash took in the canals of blood that ran down her face and onto her neck, he wondered if she was hurt worse  from her struggle with Heminworth’s servants than she was letting on, if she hadn’t even heard or understood. Finally, she looked at him, her silver eyes rimmed in red.

“Because he loves you,” she said softly. “Because he wanted to save you.”

“He did save me,” Ash said, and then he was crying, sobbing, something he hadn’t done when he awoke in Heminworth’s house, or when he’d lain awake wondering if he’d ever see his coven or his love again. The anger, the drive to just keep surviving collapsed in a pile of rubble, and all that was left was grief.

“We have—” He battled for control over his anguish. “We have to get him out of there.”

Ivy wrapped her arms around him. “He was going to kill you, Ash. And he will kill you if you go back.”

“The coven—they’ll help—if we all go—”

Her silence told him how likely she thought that was.

“We’ll figure something out,” she said gently. “We need to get home. And you need to heal.”

Heal?

Home was behind him; healing was out of reach.

The woods were chilly, the last dregs of winter still clinging to the air even though spring had begun. Ash shivered as he walked, Ivy clinging tightly to his hand as if she might never let go. His bare feet scraped against stones and fallen twigs, but he barely felt the way they bit into his skin. He barely felt the cold.

The only thing Ash could feel was pain.

The ring on his finger soothed him, the one thing he could always hold onto, the one thing that made Ash Levin a witch of the Coven of the—

Heminworth took my ring.

Ash wrenched his hand from Ivy’s, and she turned, looking offended, until she saw what he was gaping at.

A ring, snowy in colour, glittering and pearl-like. Tendrils twisted into one entity.

Ivy gasped. “How—”

“Heminworth stole my ring,” Ash said hoarsely. “He—he still has it. This is Laramie’s.”

How his love had known to ensure that Heminworth couldn’t take his ring, Ash didn’t know. Perhaps it had been a lucky guess. Perhaps, thinking they were about to say goodbye forever, he’d wanted Ash to have it. But a warmth burned through him as he gazed down at the pale band upon his finger.

The human bastard didn’t have Laramie’s ring. He had Laramie’s ring. A piece of him, safe and untouched by wicked human hands. A piece of Laramie Jonas to hold onto, even if the potion that had snatched away the other witches’ minds stole his, too.

No, Ash decided. That wouldn’t happen. He simply wouldn’t allow it.

“You can’t use it, though,” Ivy said nervously. “Can you?”

Ash put his hand down. It wasn’t right to use another witch’s ring, not without their permission. But Laramie had given his freely.

“I’ll try,” he said, “but not now.” Pain scratched at his ruined throat. Too much talking. Too much exhaustion.

I’ll get you out of there, Laramie Jonas, he promised, looking up at the sky. The moon was bright, gazing down at him, caressing his face with her light. Ivy’s ring would be basking in the brilliant moonshine, renewing its power under the brilliant celestial face. Laramie’s ring did not respond to the kiss of moonlight, and Ash regretted every time he had hesitated to ask which coven his love had come from—the coven he had left long ago.

I’ll get you out of there, and I will learn everything about you I was ever too nervous to ask. He wanted to kick himself now for not making the most of the time they’d had together.

But there would be more time. He’d make sure of it.

I’ll save you, Lar, and when I have you in my arms you again, I am never letting you go.

[verdanteffigy]

Dishonoredloop (Deathloop spoilers)

Slabs and trinkets = Mark powers and bonecharms

Cabinets, dressers, and chairs from the Dishonored games return. A sewing machine with “Rosewine” on it is also in the Dunwall Archives. Antique dueling pistols with oil cartridges resemble guns from Dishonored.

One of the drawings (badly drawn Clockwork Soldiers?) you can find in Death of the Outsider can be found in the Dorsey Manor.

The Heritage shotgun has “DUNW” inscribed on it.

A recording of Drunken Whaler can be found and a note nearby says it sounds like something their grandma used to listen to.

Harriet mentions a Great Beyond, a place of emptiness, that she supposedly saw after surviving a plane crash. Which in Dishonored 2 there’s a note about people who accurately described the Void after suffering from near death experiences.

The loop/anomaly itself is possibly not entirely scientific as Harriet and Egor make an observation that Wenjie asked each Visionary to provide something of theirs, a talisman, to “personalize” the machine.

Fia dreams of rich occultists plotting the fate of the world. Inspiration for Charlie’s game in which he includes “scrimshaw gewgaws”. In Death of the Outsider, Cienfuegos had prophetic dreams of something in Shindaerey. And Fia’s dreams are more than just dreams, as her recordings and paintings of Visionaries change depending on what you did on the previous loop.

The mammoth found in Karl’s Bay looks nothing like a mammoth in reality so the setting either isn’t or not entirely based on our own world. The game also seems deliberately careful not to explicitly say if this “motherland” is Tyvia,  Russia, or some other fantasy Russia.

Read on a Bad Luck Mary plague in Updaam, there was a “Year of Empty Nets”. Possibly related to the Month of Nets.

A note found in Updaam at night in front of the library says Blackreef used to be a site for witch trials.

If you input the first code Egor found that is “unknown - external to island” into his machine, you can vaguely hear the sound of whales.

An Eternalist setting up the band’s stage in Updaam will talk about Joplins, a measure of electricity in this universe.

Aleksis’s statue is made of whalebone and he says whalebone is expensive these days.

“The Isles Official Mail!” is a magazine.

“Hearths 62″ can be found on a photograph.

(Supposedly, can’t confirm, just some screenshots floating around) Before the first patch of the game, gate locks had signs that said “Danger: You are now entering a Tyvia High Judge army installation”.

[hedgiwithapen]

"Oh please. No hero, nor savior, nor enemy nor traitor can save prince charming from my spell." Brion Markov, bespelled.

The scene is like an illustration from one of the storybooks their nurse would read to them at bedtime. Tara had memorized the book, had play-acted them with her brothers and other castle children when she was young enough to pretend nothing in the world could not be fixed with a valiant knight’s sword, or a princess’s courage. But the games in the castle halls and nursery had been cobbled together and well lit, a pulled down curtain draped over an overturned dresser, a wall of pillows, a treasure chest of toys instead of jewels. What lay before her now was dark, like the soot-darkened oil paintings that hung in the royal museum, and detailed. Tara swallowed. It wasn’t just like the drawings in her childhood books, it was an exact replica. Brion sat in a tall, ebony throne that gleamed in the lamplight like obsidian, and his eyes were blank. The fur around his shoulders melted into rich velvet, and on his brow gleamed a crown, pale gold and set with black amber. Her brother stared forward and did not see her. Tara took one set back, her foot catching on the plush carpet she had pictured so well as a child. Now she could see that the abstract patterns had formed themselves into jagged lines, harsh images of blades and blood. The Enchantress smiled as Tara stumbled, and touched Brion’s cheek with a finger. He did not flinch.

“You should leave here, child.” “No,” Tara whispered. Those were not the words of the story, but they were all she could manage. She searched the room. “There is nothing for you here, little jewel.” The enchantress shook her head. “ I went to great lengths to ensure that. Not an inch of stone for my palace. You are powerless here. Just the scared little girl you’ve always been.” “You can’t have him,” Tara said, ripping her eyes from her brother’s empty face to the witch who fancied herself a queen. The crown on her head matches the one given to Brion. “I can have what I like. This is my kingdom, and you are not welcome here.” Tara took a shaky breath and reached into her pocket. She pulled out the walnut shell,the fine-woven linen, the flagon of oil, and the enchantress laughed. “My curse is a little different than that, little one. I have learned better than that. No more little trinkets to break a curse. No hero, nor savior, nor enemy nor traitor can save Prince Charming from this spell." Tara dropped the bottle of oil. It shattered, staining the wooden floor. “I’m not leaving without him.” “And you’re not leaving with my prize. Go while I still allow it, unless you want to end up like the rest.” She waved a hand, and Tara did not look. She already knew what she would have seen: frozen statues of the few who had made it this far, who hadn’t been able to leave with Brion and hadn’t been able to break what bound him here. Heroes. They were heroes, and they had failed. What was she? Hadn’t she known, since the day she’d been taken from her bed, that fairytales weren’t true? But Brion hadn’t left her. He’d destroyed himself to save her and she had been too blinded to see until everything was too much of a mess to ever escape it. He was her brother. “No hero,” she repeated softly, and the would-be-queen smiled. “That’s right. No little heroes, no saviors.” “No enemies, no traitors,” Tara finished. And then she found the hole in the net. She stepped forwards, over the puddle of oil, and dropped the walnut shell wrapped in cloth. One hand reached out, shaking slightly. “Made your choice then? You’d rather be trapped in your own body, again? Perhaps I’ll make you a little puppet instead of a statue. Would you like that?” Tara did not hesitate. This had to work. She touched her brother’s hand, and felt the warmth in her fingers spread. The pallor in Brion’s face eased. “Your spell did not say anything about sisters.”

[kokoronis]

Trinket the Net Witch, a muse born from feelings of loneliness and rejection… she watches over those who seek catharsis and recognition in the depths of their emotions.

[theworldbrewery]

Don’t know why tumblr keeps fucking up the image quality... but in any case, here are eight non-combat encounters for on the road!

for better-quality viewing, click here.

Transcription under the cut

Non-Combat Encounters on the Road We sometimes want to incorporate encounters into our games that aren't necessarily about *combat,* maybe because the party's coming down from a rough dungeon or is about to head into a boss battle. For this table, we're looking at potential encounters for your party to meet on the road to their next adventure--but don't be surprised if a one-off interaction turns into a fun sidequest! These encounters are designed to be flexible.

Gnomish Merchant

Type: NPCs, Goods and Services Character: Scribbles, gnome tinkerer Description: Absentminded, hard bargainer, only accepts other items in trade

Scribbles hoists up a bulging backpack on his shoulders, getting his bearings. The pack spills over with blueprints and little metal contraptions. Among them: a wind-up dragon that gives a horrible grating screech when it produces a tiny flame, a fish that flops weakly in the air and sinks in water, an a clockwork temple that pops open to show a macabre scene, and a maiden in a tower who climbs down her long hair and then climbs back up when a mechanical witch comes around the other side of the tower; she descends again when the witch goes to the back of the tower. Average price is two or three gold per trinket.

Giant Elk Type: Non-Hostile Creature Description: Gentle, flighty, if treated with caution tries to get food from the party's packs

The rare and beautiful Giant Elk is rumored to be a divine symbol, sometimes even a god in mortal form. It can understand Common, Elvish, and Sylvan, but is unable to speak them; a skittish Elk will run if the party suggests violence. The creature has a silver net tangled in its antlers and has a goose-flighted arrow sticking out of its hindquarters. Who would hunt such a noble and gentle creature?

Koi Pond Type: Environment, Non-Hostile Creature Description: A perfectly circular pond containing six koi fish of varying patterns in orange, pink, white, and black

A few yards away, a glimmer of light catches on the surface of a pool of water. It is surrounded by large, flat white rocks and lush green ferns. The pool is very deep, so deep you can barely make out the sandy bottom and the jewels and trinkets lying half-buried down there. The depth (60 feet of clear water) could be troublesome. How badly does your party want the treasure? (Keep in mind PCs can hold their breath for a time equal to 1 minute x CON bonus + 1 minute with a minimum of 30 seconds) \

Mail Delivery Type: NPCs Character: Francois, the half-orc mailman Description: Sweaty, talkative, wearing a beige uniform with a little pin

Decked out in brightly colored banners, the mail cart careens toward the party. The mailman swerves just in time to miss them, but the cart crashes into a boulder at the side of the road with a crunch. He barely escapes. A large box is thrown from the wreckage and comes open, scattering packages and letters across the road. There's a letter or package from an old friend--or an old enemy--addressed to one of the player characters lying a few feet from the ruined cart. What could be inside?

Aftermath of Bandits Type: NPCs, Environment Character: Ronan the Piercer, wounded half-elf bandit; Sashivas, captured aasimar Description: Ronan: hoarse voice, shoddy clothes, head wound; Sashivas: plump, stained-glass-like skin, shy, apologizes for swearing

A covered wagon is still aflame, and the bodies of a few bandits and civilians lie where they were killed. Looks like the rest of the wagons escaped, but there's a struggling figure trapped under a net and a roughed-up bandit pointing a crossbow at the captured creature. Ronan will surrender at the first sign of danger as long as he's outnumbered.

Bad Storm Type: Environment Description: High winds, fist-sized hailstones, and heavy rains that batter the party (and their vehicle/mounts)

The party is quickly drenched. After an hour of rain, the clouds turn an ominous shade of green; there's a tornado coming, and if they aren't sheltered already, they better hurry. An unsheltered party might find themselves hit by debris from the storm or their cart lifted off the road for a moment. Plot hooks include helping someone transported by the tornado or exploring their shelter (caves are great for this purpose)

Escaped Convict Type: NPCs Character: Talia Stormborn, dragonborn convict Description: broken chain around ankle, speaks slowly

Talia is looking for refuge after escaping her prison camp. Consider what crime she committed--theft, drug trafficking, murder?--and how sympathetic the party will be to her cause. They might help her escape, give her supplies, or turn her over to her pursuers.

Canyon Crossing Type: Environment Description: canyon interrupts the road, has a stream at the bottom, crossed by a rickety wooden bridge with no railing

At the bottom of the canyon the party can see a small cottage by the stream and the wreckages of several carts and the bones of draft animals that fell to their deaths. The cottage looks to be built of the shattered wagons and other salvage pieces. On the other side of the canyon is a stairway carved into the rock, leading down to the canyon bottom.

[thelisabug]

#thesims4 #sims4challenge Through the Packs Challenge – By TheLisaBug This Challenge combines using just about all the packs and was inspired by the Legacy Challenge, Runaway Teen Challenge, Rags to Riches and the Not So Berry Challenge. In fact, this challenge was made with the Not So Berry Challenge in mind so much that it uses a lot of game play that the Not so Berry Challenge doesn't use and instead of different colored hair, eyes, etc. each generation has different clothing, house styles and walk styles! Therefore, whether or not you have done the Not So Berry Challenge will not matter. However, doing this Challenge after the Not So Berry Challenge would give you an even more full experience of The Sims 4!This challenge was made with YouTubers in mind to showcase the packs and help people learn what they would like to purchase and what they can do without. It would also be interesting to watch, especially during this time of isolation, I think!There are certain requirements for this challenge, however, with no set required amount of skills and no points to count, it is fun and stress-free as challenges go!

* if you don't own certain packs then make up your own stories and substitute the challenges as needed to what you see fit. If you don’t have a certain trait or lot trait for example, just make one that seems to fit with the story or challenges, skip entire generations if you need to do so*

General Rules: No cheats may be used. 

You may use mods to enhance game play as far as story goes but the mods may not help with skills, careers or finance. That being said, MCC mod does help to not run out of townies, so it is recommended but it is not a must, since you can just restock the townies with gallery sims if you need to do so.Set Lifespan to Normal (Suggested). Making lifespan longer will make the challenge easier and more chill so do as you like :)

Start Generation 1 as a YA with 20,000 simoleons and no skills (a fresh sim). You may make this sim or get them from the gallery, but be aware that some gallery sims may have skills, careers and traits that would give them an advantage.

The Heir to the next generation is suggested to be the oldest child but you can change that if you want the heir to be the first female or youngest, etc.

Every Generation is supposed to complete their Aspiration/s and get to level 10 of their career by the time the heir becomes a YA as well as complete all other things listed. The two exceptions to this is for Generation 1, since Generation 2 moves out as a teen and Generation 2 where you must have at least a five star restaurant to complete your job by the time your child is a teen and you die when your heir is a teen.

There are no requirements as far as skill levels, but some of the things your sims will need to do require certain skills.

There are no points that you must count for this challenge, as it is meant to be free of stress and help you play parts of packs you may not have explored, fully, before and end up with your dream house in the end and a net worth of at least 1 Million simoleans (ie. House can be worth 400,000 and savings can be 600,000). See how well you can do! 

You may age up your next generation Heir only if you have completed all your assignments. Generation 1 is the only generation that can participate in the lottery 

 Your spouse completing the tasks that are assigned do count for your challenge (ie. They can complete an aspiration that you need) 

I recommend you turn Fame off in your settings, with the exception of Generation 8 where you will want fame to be on. 

 You must participate in all Holidays that come with the game at least once during the Challenge and you may add other holidays if you wish. 

 Each generation should take family photos (at least there should be a picture of each heir) and any collectibles or meaningful trinkets and pass them down through the generations (you must not sell anything that is passed down)

Each Generation moves to a different town and builds a specific style home as specified (you may use houses on the Gallery but make sure you can afford them)

Generation 1 – Strangerville Story: You always wanted to escape from your country and come to a land full of opportunity. After years of waiting, you are given a choice. The place you want to live needs more Military presence and there are not enough people willing to sign up. You have been promised full citizenship if you will join their military and “Defeat the Mother”. You always thirsted for an adventure, so you are willing to take this on full force. However, to combat all the pressure and anxiety you want to live in a small house and arrange flowers.

Traits: Erratic, Ambitious, Active

Career: Military (either branch)

Aspiration: Strangerville Mystery

Clothing Style: Vintage

House Style: Trailer/Tiny home

Walk Style:  Tough

Lot Traits: Child's Play, Dog Hangout, Bracing Breezes

You must be a sim who is able to get pregnant

 - You have received a 20,000 Simoleon signing bonus

Build a trailer or tiny home that is no more than 100 tiles with the money given

Marry someone who helped you “Defeat the Mother” and have a child with them Have a baby, via an affair, to produce the second child with a Sage that you meet on a day trip to Glimmerbrook, but don't marry them or move them into the household (the purpose of having your heir be the spawn of a witch/warlock is for Generation 4 to have the Ancient Bloodline trait)

Defeat “The Mother” and become the Hero of Strangerville

Use the flower arranging table to make flower arrangements with all 7 different flowers (you can use candle making instead if you have eco lifestyle & make 7 different candles)

Take a stray dog into your family by the time the middle child becomes a toddler

Middle child has Independent trait as a toddler

The middle child must reach at least level 3 in all toddler skills before aging up

Have middle child (once they age into a child) have the Kleptomaniac trait, have them complete the Rambunctious Scamp aspiration and get responsibility characteristic high before becoming a teen

Middle child never finds any people they really consider good friends but they find that they consider the family dog their best friend Have 3 kids (the middle child must be biologically yours with the spellcaster Sage)

Have middle child take pictures of the their whole family and dog to get pictures for their future place (all heirs must do this and pass the photos down the generations)

Middle child runs away as a teenager the day after becoming a teenager and takes the family dog (if it is still alive. If not alive, take the urn or gravestone), the military medals (do this by placing medal case in inventory and then putting medal on the ground and then putting them into your middle child's inventory), some flower arrangements you like and at least one photo of the dog with them (you must use the cheat “FreeRealEstate on” to move into an empty lot as a homeless sim) to start Generation 2 Generation 2 – San Myshuno Story: As the middle child, you often felt left out. One of your parents was different than your siblings and you never had any good friends, besides the family dog.  Also, the house was way too small for everyone! Plus, you think your parent and step parent are crazy with their talk of “Defeating the Mother”, which you think is nonsense, so you run away when you become a teen. Coming from a town where everyone was either government or oddballs (or both), you always dreamed of being around people that were more cultured, so you decided to live in the city with the dog who you grew up with. The problem is that you have no money for an apartment, so you will be homeless until you save up for one. You will do almost anything and I mean ANYTHING to save enough money to rent one – couch surf, steal, ask for money – anything. The only exception to this is to marry for money, since you will never get married in your life. You are used to going it alone.

Traits as a teen: Kleptomaniac, Snob, Foodie

Career: Earn money fast so you can Own a Restaurant or Bakery that you build (or get from the Gallery) in San Myshuno

Aspiration: City Native

Clothing Style: Chic

House Style: Apartment

Walk Style: Feminine

Lot Traits: Sunny Aspect, Home Studio, Natural Light

-Once you have purchased an easel, dog bowl, bed, toilet, shower, trash can, refrigerator, sink and saved up 1500 simoleons in savings then you may move to a starter apartment in the Spice District

- You can skip school or take vacation days but you must end up with an A grade and high responsibility in range for a trait by the time you age up to YA.

-Learn all city food recipes

-Collect all snow globes

- Have one dog that you took from your childhood home and when it dies you are too sad to ever get another dog

 Do not have a child until adult and spent YA life living it up in the city and running your restaurant

Your toddler heir must have the fussy trait

Have at least 3 sims that you “try for baby” with on the same day so you don't know which one is the father/mother of the child that you end up having (if male make sure you select that you can get pregnant in CAS and if using mods make sure you are ovulating) Do not check to see if you are pregnant until after you hook up with the 3 sims (if you are still not pregnant then repeat this process until you are)

Never Marry

Have only one pregnancy (if you end up with more than one child then pick one for this challenge)Move into a bigger apartment in the Fashion District or Uptown worth at least 100,000 Simoleans while you are pregnant to make room for your child

Have a 5 star restaurant by the time you die

Paint 3 Masterpieces and put them on the wall in your apartment

Let your child have a pet rat

Have your child start researching Vampires on the computer and purchase and read Vampire Tomes in their spare time (you are too busy to even notice)

Die when your heir child is a teenager (you decide how, but maybe poorly cooked pufferfish? Restaurant fire?) but make sure you transfer all inherited medals, flower arrangements, photos, etc. to the household inventory. This starts Generation 3       

Generation 3 – Forgotten Hollow Story: Your parent was so busy with the restaurant, living it up in the city and their painting that you would often sit alone in your room reading books about Vampirism. You were willingly turned into a vampire as a teenager after your parent died tragically when you were just a teen. You were scarred from this mentally and physically and never want to die. You want to live as a creature of the night and become very powerful.

Traits: Evil, Mean, Vegetarian

Career: Law

Aspiration: Master Vampire 

Clothing Style: Rocker/Goth/Egirl/Eboy

House Style: Victorian

Walk Style: Creepy

Lot Traits: Creepy Crawlies, Mean Vibe, On a Dark Ley Line

Make the house creepy with spider webs, damage to the walls, etc.

Sell all the things you inherited, with the exception of the medals, family photos 3 Masterpieces, flowers, snow globes, your parent's urn or tombstone, etc. and start building a home in the style specified. 

 Sell the restaurant by going to the restaurant and clicking the icon next to the restaurant name called “restaurant settings” and there you will find an option to sell it in the lower left corner

Get in a fight

Have a dark themed at least 20,000 simoleon wedding

Collect postcards that your rat brings home from their travels

Have a Spooky Party or Costume Party and earn Gold Have a scar somewhere on your body from a fight you got into 

Be turned into a Vampire as a teenager while you are still sad about your parent's death

Take your rat with you if it is still alive 

 Have at least one vampire child w/ ancient bloodline trait

Have teen get a part-time job

Toddler heir must have the Inquisitive Trait

Marry another vampire with the Good Vampire Aspiration and have them complete it (Caleb Vatore comes with the game or you can find one on the gallery or make your own)

Have an affair and get caught but make up with your spouse

After completing the Master Vampire Aspiration your spouse's influence to be good has made you a better Being. Change your traits of Evil and Mean to something nicer. You can also change the Mean Vibe lot trait to something else at this point. You must change your traits with the retraiting potion (not in CAS) or it will still act as if you have the other traits still.

Write 5 songs on the Napri Parlor Organ and License them 

Be sure that your heir meets Father Winter and befriends him

When your oldest becomes a toddler you adopt a cat

When the heir reaches YA you and your spouse move to a starter house in the same neighborhood to downsize and give ½ of your money to them to start Generation 4

Generation 4 – Glimmerbrook Story: You grew up angry about the affair that happened with your parents and the fact that one of your parents was pretty mean for most of your life. The closest friend you had was Father Winter and you always felt a special bond with him due to your magical abilities. You have always been drawn to witchcraft from the Ancient Bloodline trait you inherited. You want to move to a place that accepts your eccentricities and lifestyle choices. You want to show your parents that you can be more powerful than they are.

Traits: Childish, Non-Commital, Genius

Career: Secret Agent  

Aspiration: Spellcraft and Sorcery and Purveyor of Potions

Clothing Style: Boho

House Style: Cottage or Tudor

Walk Style: Swagger

Lot Traits: Breeding Ground, Gremlins, Science Lair 

Take the family cat with you if it is still alive, postcards, rat (if alive) as well as the other things Gen 3 inherited

Find a cure for vampirism so you can become a spellcaster 

own at least two cats of opposite sex and breed them at least once and keep all the kittens from the first litter. You may sell any kittens from any litters after that.

Get pregnant with Father Winter's baby (you can marry him or not) before you Woo Hoo with any other sims and, if you are female, you do this before you realize you are gay

Create at least 5 different potions to hand down to the next Generation

Make toddler heir have Angelic trait

Have at least one facial piercing

Be in an unconventional relationship with someone of the same sex and Marry them. 

Complete both Aspirations (wife or hubby can do one and you the other for example)

When your heir becomes a teen they ask if you could perform the Rite of Dissolution on them because they wish to not be a spell caster and you do as they wish

When heir reaches YA you and your spouse move to a starter house in the same neighborhood to downsize and give ½ of your money to them to start Generation 5

Generation 5– Sulani Story: Growing up with all the cats and your parent's thirst for power, you just want to live a relaxing life free of pets. You believe animals should be wild and free – never owned. You want to become a beautiful Mermaid/man, make friends with the sea life and do some good in the world.

Traits: Good, Child of the Island, Child of the Ocean

Career: ConservationistAspiration: Beach Life

Clothing Style: Beachy/VSCO

House Style: Beachy on Stilts

Walk Style: Default

Lot Traits: Sunny Aspect, Quake Zone, On a Ley Line

- Take all inherited items from previous generations, photos, plus anything special your parents give you to display at your new home 

Become a Mermaid/man

Save Sulani

Meet and Island Elemental, have a romantic relationship with him/her, ask them to move in and then have a baby with them and marry them. Your baby will inherit the Sulani Mana Trait from them.

Have a cool beach wedding worth at least 7,000 simoleons

Collect at least 7 treasures at the cave and complete the mural Have at least one child

Toddler heir must have Wild trait 

When heir reaches YA you and your spouse move to a starter house in the same neighborhood to downsize and give ½ of your money to them to start Generation 6

Generation 6 – Oasis Springs Story: You were always so bored being at the beach all the time. You want some adventure in your life. You want to give your family adventurous vacations (away from the beach) that you never got to have.

Traits: Neat, Bookworm, Clumsy

Career: Education

Aspiration: Jungle Explorer and Archaeology Scholar

Clothing Style: Tomboy

House Style: Mediterranean

Walk Style: Bouncy

Lot Traits: Filthy, Teen Neighborhood, Romantic Aura 

 Collect all 9 Relics

Learn all Selvadorada recipes

Buy at least one memento from Selvadorada

Create at least two Totecallam Death Relics

- Find the treasure room in the TempleBecome friends with the Temple Guardian

Have at least 2 children

Toddler heir must have Clingy trait

Have toddler plays date/s so your heir meets their future spouse

Have 2 dogs

Have heir get married to someone they met at a toddler play date Stay in good standing with your partner

When heir reaches YA you and your spouse move to a starter house in the same neighborhood to downsize and give ½ of your money to them to start Generation 7 Generation 7 – Brindleton Bay Story: You loved going on vacation with your loving family and seeing all the animals. It made you an animal lover with so much love to give. You want to have a dog and a cat that resemble a wolf and cheetah like the ones you came across on your travels.

Traits: Dog Lover, Cat Lover, Slob

Career: Own a Vet Clinic

Aspiration: Friend of the Animals

Clothing Style: Street Style

House Style: Colonial

Walk Style: Perky

Lot Traits: Breeding Ground, Dog Friendly, Training Ground 

Own one cat and one dog that resemble a cheetah and a wolf

Marry someone you met as a toddler

Train both pets fully

Heir toddler must have the Charmer trait

Collect 10 Different types of frogs ( you can breed them to complete this)

When heir reaches YA you and your spouse move to a starter house in the same neighborhood to downsize and give ½ of your money to them to start Generation 8

Generation 8 – Del Sol Valley Story: You always felt that the pets in the family were more important to your parents than you. You want to be the center of attention for a change! You want your name in lights!! You want the fame and the fortune!!! You also want to party like it's 2099!!!!

Traits: Self-absorbed, Clubber, Materialistic

Career: Actor/Actress

Aspiration: World Famous Celebrity

Clothing Style: Sexy or Sophisticated

House Style: Contemporary and/or Modern

Walk Style: Snooty

Lot Traits: Convivial, Party Place, Celebrity Home Reach top level celebrity

Have a tiny purse dog

Receive at least one award

Make at least 75,000 Simoleons for your generation

Have at least one biological kid and two adopted kids from “foreign lands”

Change your birth name (just the first name) to something more star like.

Marry another Celebrity

Heir toddler must have the Silly trait 

When heir reaches YA you and your spouse move to a starter house in the same neighborhood to downsize and give ½ of your money to them to start Generation 9

Generation 9 – Willow Creek Story: Growing up in the limelight was hard on you.  The paparazzi followed your family everywhere. You just want a simple life with as little people around as possible, besides close family and friends. You got to know some famous musicians and they inspired you to learn an instrument.

Traits: Loner, Gloomy, Music Lover 

 Career: Writer 

 Aspiration: Musical Genius

Clothing Style: Artsy

House Style: Craftsman

Walk Style: Sluggish

Lot Traits: Great Acoustics, Home Studio, Fast Internet 

Write five songs

Marry someone who gave you a tip while playing an instrument on the street

Have at least 1 kid

Have one big dog

Have great relationships with your wife and kids

- Paint 5 bestsellersWrite 5 books

Choose one instrument to play exclusively

Toddler trait can be anything you choose

You have kid/s before your wedding

At your wedding, your spouse dies right after you say “I do” while your oldest is still a toddler. (without mods you just kill them after the wedding in a room with fire or murphy bed, etc. and pretend they died at the wedding so just end the wedding after the vows are exchanged) 

Too sad to move on, you live the rest of your life without a partner.

Get 2 roommates after your spouse dies

When heir reaches YA you move to a starter house in the same neighborhood to downsize and give ½ of your money to them to start Generation 10

Generation 10 – Windenburg Story: Seeing your parent go through life without a partner and you with only one parent, you want to find the perfect partner and have a picture perfect life in every way.

Traits: Family-Orientated, Geek, Foodie

Career: Dream Career of choice

Aspiration: Academic and Leader of the Pack Or Your Choice

Clothing Style: Your Choice

House Style: Your Choice

Walk Style: Your Choice

Lot Traits: Child's Play, Good Schools, Great Soil 

Get a Distinguished Degree at University for your desired career

Join the Order of Enchantment and be able to summon the sprites

Buy the 64x64 or 50x50 Lot to build your dream house

Have a 50,000 simolean dream wedding

Build a ServoHave the best club in town

Have 3 pets of any kind

Marry someone from your club

Have 3-5 Kids

Make sure the Grandchild lives with you along with their parents

- Make at least 5 Items for the home with the Knitting skill (I am assuming the Knitting Pack will be out by the time you get to this point) and complete one of the knitting aspirations

As an Elder, change your clothing to something more age appropriate OR be that “fun” grandparent that is totally embarrassing

Optional: Live to see at least one grandchild , knit them at least one onesie before they are born and teach them everything you know since this grandchild will become the one to move to Evergreen Harbor.

Optional Generation 11 – Evergreen Harbor Story: Growing up you had everything anyone could have ever asked for in life. You want to be free from the confines of a capitalist society and make your own way in life by your rules and truly be your own master. You want to purchase as little as possible. You hate consumerism.

Traits: Freegan, Green Fiend, Maker

Career: Freelance Crafter

Aspiration: Master Maker

Clothing Style: DIY or Makeshift (you can make a lot with knitting if you have that pack)

House Style: Container or Farmhouse

Walk Style: Your Choice

Lot Traits: Off-the-Grid,  At least one other Eco lot trait and one other of your choice 

 Start with Zero simoleons

Dumpster dive for food and craft your own furniture as much as possible

If you choose to have pets they must be strays

Learn all crafting recipes on fabricator, candle maker, Fizzy Juice machine and woodworking bench

Get a lot of food and herbal remedies from your garden

Get decent at yoga and/or meditation and/or herbalism

Do not have your own kids, as you think this is wrong since there are so many kids that need homes in the world

If you want kids then make sure to adopt them and make them their own clothes by knitting

Furnish your house as much as you can with things you made yourself or found in a dumpster

The goal is to have a fully self-sustaining home for you and your family with a nice big garden

[justaghostingon]

Merfolk are Overrated

Chapter 5: Nephthys’ Story

Nephthys reminisces about her own experiences under the sea as she helps Kodya hide the three sirens.

Read on ao3 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/25041904/chapters/63453298

Or below the cut

Nephthys’ POV

“You gave her legs!” Kodya gaped like a fish, staring at Nephthys like she’d grown a second head. Nephthys held back a wince. She really hadn’t meant for him to figure it out like this, but she’d come upon Kodya with a siren in his arms, Alistair had been on his way, and she’d needed to do something or they’d all be caught.

Never get caught. This rule comes above all.

“How, why,” Kodya stuttered, still trying to come to terms with what he just saw. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally says, a note of hurt in his voice.

“I have told you silly!” Nephthys gave a performative giggle, “Did you think my shop and aura readings were for show?”

Kodya opened his mouth and closed it again, still looking somewhat hurt. Nephthys couldn’t blame him. There was a huge difference between claiming to be a witch to sell trinkets to tourists, and using actual magic in front of someone. But at least he wasn’t going to push it. Nephthys was certain she could have handled having that conversation in front of strangers.

Kodya must never know. He does not belong in our world. If you live with us, you must understand this.

“If we are all done stating the obvious, I would very much like my tail back now.” The red-haired siren sniffed. Arms crossed.

“Of course, of course,” Nephthys smiled. “But not here. Let’s go back to my store, where we’re not in the open where anyone could see.” She shot the red-haired siren a look, and she lowered her head, a scowl on her face.

“Fine,” Kodya grunted as he lifted the fluffy-haired siren into the air and placed her in the back of his truck. Nephthys strained her eyes to catch a glimpse of the old kiddie pool in the back, how ingenuous. Kodya gestured to Nephthys and the red-haired siren. “Nephthys gets the front seat, Red, sit in the back seat.” Red moved towards the fluffy one, but Kodya stopped her. “Back seat means inside the truck, not outside it.”

“Then specify,” Red grumbled as she climbed carefully into the back, flopping awkwardly across the back seats as if she wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to sit.

“Can I sit inside the truck too?” The boy said, but Kodya shook his head.

“You’ve still got a tail,” he pointed out as he lifted up the green-tailed siren out of what Nephthys was not realizing was a mini aquarium on wheels. The siren clung to him, and Nephthys watched Kodya’s ears grow bright red. Interesting.

Kodya deposited the siren gently into the back so he could crawl to the pool. Then he lifted the little aquarium wheelchair in behind him, and turned to the front.

“Don’t think, just go,” Nephthys heard him mutter under his breath.

-----------

“Don’t think, just go!” her father screamed, pushing Nephthys bodily out of the net. All around her the shouts and screams of a battle waged disoriented her. The great ship stretched upwards like a pillar, black jets streaming off as it sank slowly into the water. Warriors swarmed it, some placing hands or whole arms into cracks and leaks, others trying to push it upwards. Singers sank from above, blackened scales dull as they choked on water. Nephthys followed their trail, to see the slick black substance block out the sun. Oil. She clutched her father’s bag of medicines to her chest, tears still in her eyes, and fled.

----------

“Come in. Come in!” Nephthys beamed as she switched the sign on the door from open to closed. Kodya pushed the boy siren in while Red carried Fluffy. “We’ll talk in the back.” She led them past her glittering potions, and waved them all behind the purple curtain that marked the back from the front. Behind it was where she kept both an emergency tub, and her workbench, complete with extra potion bottles and tea set for easier digestion.

Kodya parked the Kid next to the tub and perched awkwardly on the work bench next to him. Red placed Fluffy carefully in the tub before parking herself on its edge. Nephthys turned her attention to the tea.

“Now,” Nephthys said as she lifted her favorite tea pot to pour five cups. “You want to know about the potion, correct?”

“Aye,” Tori crossed her arms. “I know your kind. You don’t do favors without a price.”

“Tori!” the Kid screeched, and Nephthys frowned, not appreciating that particular generalization, but she supposed it wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Or magic needs to have something as a basis in order to work. I can’t make miracles from nothing,” she gently reprimanded. “It needn’t be any worse than trading for food or clothes.”

“So then what do you want in trade for my tail back?” Tori pressed, legs twitching oddly like she was trying to swish her tail. Sylvia braced against her so she didn’t fall off the edge of the tub.

“Nothing at all,” Nephthys smiled, and all three sirens startled.

“But you just said…” Kodya protested, but Nephthys cut him off.

“I don’t need anything, because this potion was designed to be temporary,” she explained. “You’ll have your tail back in a few hours. The only catch is that you are completely human right now, so I wouldn’t recommend you go swimming, as you’ll find you can’t breathe underwater anymore.”

“But what did you trade to get it to work?” The Kid piped up, eyes wide and curious. “You said magic has to come from somewhere.”

Nephthys smiled. It had been a long time since someone had wanted to listen to her lecture on the finer points of potion making. “You already provided it when you got that sea glass for Kodya. Unless,” she shot Kodya a wink, “he really has been training dolphins.”

“Dolphins?” Gyrus blinked.

“Trained?” Tori sniffed. Fluffy arched an eyebrow.

“Nephthys!” Kodya growled, ears burning red. All three sirens turned to him with similarly judgmental looks. “Oh come on,” he snapped. “I had to come up with some kind of excuse to explain how I got it!”

“And you picked dolphins?” The Kid furrowed his brow in confusion. Kodya’s ears got redder.

Nephthys smiled, pleased to see Kodya getting along with others. “You’re welcome to stay here while you wait for the potion to wear off,” she said. “If you need me, I’ll be handling the front.” So saying she turned on her heel and left Kodya to sputter out excuses to the three sirens.

But it seemed that was not enough to stop the siren’s curiosity. And Nephthys found that not ten minutes passed before the youngest siren peeked outside the curtain.

“Witch Nephthys?” the Kid asked. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

Nephthys glanced around the shop to check it was empty, a long standing habit of hers, before turning her attention to the Kid with a smile. “Of course,” she said. The Kid’s face lit up.

He grabbed the wall, pushing himself forward in his little cart so he could be closer to her. “I’m Gyrus,” he began with a shy duck of his head. “I don’t think we were ever properly introduced.”

“I fear we haven’t,” Nephthys giggled, “what with running from Alistair and all. I’m Nephthys.” She added. “But you already know that thanks to Kody.”

“The red-haired one is Tori, and the pink-haired one is Sylvia,” Gyrus added. “Just so you know.”

“Thank you,” Nephthys smiled, glad to have a name to go with the faces. A silence stretched between them, until Nephthys broke it by prompting, “What were your questions?”

“Right!” Gyrus jumped, running a hand through his hair. He looked adorably awkward. “Well, I was wondering about the potion you made. Is there any more of it, what are the long term effects, and,-“ he peaked at her through his bangs, “-what would you want in exchange for some?”

“You want a potion?” Nephthys blinked. “What for?” Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with Kodya, and are here to trade your voice like in The Little Mermaid, she thought, remembering the Disney movie Kodya’’d never openly admit was his favorite.

“Well,” Gyrus began to twiddle his thumbs. “Alistair offered me a job, which would be a great way to learn even more about humans and their exchange. Besides,” he glanced up at her, eyes shining “What better way to understand humans than to be one? If I could use the potion, Kodya could take me everywhere and show me everything without having to describe it all!”

“Slow down a bit,” Nephthys held up her hand. “Kodya still has his own job to do, he’s not going to be free all the time.” Gyrus pouted a bit, and Nephthys suppressed a squeal at how adorable he looked. She was beginning to see why Kodya was so infatuated.

“You can use the potion though,” she offered, watching him perk up. “It’s fairly easy to make, provided you bring the sea glass I need to activate the magic.” Sea glass might be small, but every sea witch worth her salt knew there was powerful magic in objects that had become part of two worlds. Speaking of which… “There are a few limitations to this power,” she warned.

Gyrus sat straighter, watching her with a keen interest as she continued. “The first limitation is that this potion is temporary. It generally lasts a few hours, and if it's refined enough it might even last several days.” Not that she would be selling that potion to a first time user.

“But it can be unpredictable,” she continued, “and if you aren’t careful you can get stuck in some pretty awkward places and have to rely on others to come and rescue you.” Nephthys knew this from experience, as she’d once been trapped in the girl’s bathroom with eight tentacles, and had to yell for Kodya to run home and get her special bottle, no questions asked. Luckily he’d mistaken it for Advil and always been extra insistent she bring medicine with her every month.

“So be careful,” Gyrus nodded, brow furrowed. “Anything else?”

“Over use,” Nephthys said. “Is always a serious risk. If you keep taking the potion in rapid succession, you’ll find it harder and harder to change back. If that starts to happen, I’d recommend taking a break from potions for a little while, until the magic is completely clear from your system.” She’d done that once, and been forced to play invalid for two weeks before it was safe enough to begin again.

“Manage my time,” Gyrus nodded. “Got it. It can’t be harder than organizing Kodya’s finances.” Nephthys really wanted to ask. But she refrained in favor of communicating the final and most important piece of information.

“For some first time users, the transformation can be…unpleasant,” she added with a wince.

Gyrus looked up at her with mild alarm. “Was Tori…?”

“No, no.” Nephthys shook her head. “She was completely fine. Most are. But for some the psychological implications of losing their tail can be difficult to adjust to at first.”

Difficult. Wasn’t that the word.

-----------

Nephthys grit her teeth as she neared a boat on the farthest edge of the oil slick. She would only have one shot at this, and she needed it to go perfectly. She slung her father’s bag across her body so her arms were free. Then she grit her teeth and approached the great blackness.

Nephthys thrust her head above the oil slick water, dark goop slipping into every crevasse from her hair to her eyes and as it sank in her gills she finally understood what drowning felt like. But she couldn’t stop now. She blinked it away, looking desperately for something, anything, to grab on to, or she would perish like the rest of her pod’s singers. There!

Her salvation was a medal ladder welded to the side of the boat. Reaching out a hand, she grabbed the lowest rung. The oil on her hand made it slippery and hard to grasp, but she held on with an iron grip born of desperation.

She grabbed the wrung above, hauling her body upwards gasping for breath. Her lungs screamed for oxygen that without gills she seemed unable to fully supply, but she ignored it in favor of reaching for the next wrung, and then the next one after that. Her tentacles, normally so helpful for climbing, hung limp as the oil began to eat away at their protective slime.

Nephthys didn’t know how she did it, but somehow she managed to pull herself all the way to the lower deck, collapsing against it as spots swum before her eyes, and with the last of her strength she wrenched her father’s bag open, an uncorked the bottle inside, gulping down the contents.

The change was instant. A bright light filled her senses, and Nephthys found breathing became easier as her gummed up gills disappeared. A strange, tingling sensation ran over her lower body, as her tentacles knit themselves together. As the light faded, she looked down to see them gone. In their place were two brown human legs.

She wiggled her new toes experimentally, they seemed to function normally, no signs of the damage the oil had done to her tentacles had apparently transferred. By all accounts, they were a pair of perfectly normal human legs.

Nephthys bowed her head, and wept.

----------

“Gyrus! Get back here!” A sharp female voice called. Nephthys shook herself out of the memory as Gyrus looked at her guiltily. “I’ve got to go,” he said, pulling himself towards the curtain.

“I’ll help you,” Nephthys replied as she grabbed the handles of his chair and pushed him forward into the back. Tori, Sylvia, and Kodya all look up as they enter.

“Gyrus!” Tori is by his side in a flash. “Where have you been?”

“I was only in the front,” Gyrus rolled his eyes, “and besides. I wanted to ask Nephthys something.”

“What did she say to you?” Kodya demanded looking mildly alarmed. Nephthys felt slightly hurt. She wasn’t going to spill his obvious crush behind his back! She’d do it in front of him, through little in jokes said crush would hopefully not get.

“She explained more about the potion,” Gyrus said, launching into an edited version of what Nephthys had told him. Nephthys tried to listen, but felt a tug on her pant leg.

She looked down to see the fluffy haired siren had crawled out of the bath and was now sitting at her feet. She pointed at herself, then at Nephthys, and then made a flapping gesture with her hands that seemed to say, can we talk?

“Of course,” Nephthys smiled down at her. She cast a slight frown at the other three, Tori, Kodya, and Gyrus had apparently all gotten into a heated discussion about the potion and the job, with Tori solidly against it, Kodya against the job but not the potion, and Gyrus stubbornly insisting it was his choice. That looked like it was going to take a while.

She peaked back out the curtain. The desk would keep anyone from noticing Sylvia from the street, She should know, she designed it that way on purpose, and it would be a whole lot quieter. “How about you out here with me?” She offered, and Sylvia nodded, rolling her eyes at the others' nonsense.

Nephthys led the siren to the back of her desk and crouched down so they were both eye level. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked.

Sylvia began to gesture wildly, far too fast for Nephthys to understand.

“Stop,” she held up a hand. “I can’t understand you like that.”

Sylvia gave a frustrated groan as Nephthys looked around for some kind of solution. Her eye landed on an old pad and pencil she kept near the registry, and she pulled them out.

“Here,” Nephthys held them out to Sylvia. “Use these to tell me.”

Sylvia took the pad and pencil and began to draw in the thick, dark lines of someone who was used to using markers. Nephthys peaked over her shoulder, to see several rough sketches of sirens.

“Do you want to talk about your pod?” Nephthys asked. And Sylvia beamed. “Are Tori and Gyrus’ fights getting on your nerves?”

Sylvia’s face fell as she shook her head. She pointed at the pod on the pad, then at the curtain, and waved her hands to indicate no.

“They aren’t your pod,” Nephthys translated. “Do you want me to find them?” she guessed. Sylvia nodded.

Nephthys bit her lip. “Divining is tricky. I can’t guarantee I’ll find anything.” Even on her best of days her visions were confusing. And then she’d failed to predict the spill…she didn’t want Sylvia to get her hopes up.

Sylvia met her eyes, and Nephthys saw time rewind inside them. Monsters swam the clear seas, hunting and in turn were hunted by wild sirens in rudimentary armor. Strange sea witches in gleaming white would bespell the bones into plates for their warriors, while singers sang songs too beautiful to be confined by simple language. At night the pod would swim to the surface, unafraid of humans or ships, as their knowledge-spinner sang the emotions of their ancestors beneath strange stars.

They were beautiful. And they were gone. Their memory was frozen and stationary, and though Nephthys cast out her sight as far as she could, she could not see a trace of them anywhere in the world.

Nephthys felt her eyes well with tears. “I’m so sorry,” she said. Sylvia looked down at the floor, and her aura flickered a melancholy blue. She’d expected this, Nephthys realized. She’d just wanted it confirmed.

Nephthys bit her lip. She knew what that felt like. What would she have wanted someone to say to her? “It doesn’t stop hurting,” she started, and Sylvia looked up, eyes swimming with tears. “But overtime, you do find a new family, even if you have to make it yourself.”

She knew that better than anyone.

---------

“What the?” a human voice made Nephthys stop crying. She looked up to see a human boy, about her age, maybe a bit younger, staring at her. His eyes traveled from her oil soaked hair to her new legs and back to her tear stained face. Nephthys gave a sniffle, and the boy jumped, releasing a string of words Nephthys didn’t recognize.

“Here,” he tore off his long shirt, what was the word? Jacket? And held it out to her with a blush. “To cover you, ah,” he looked away, clearly embarrassed. Nephthys took it, glancing down at her legs. She wondered how to put it on, slipping one of her new feet into one of the sleeves.

“What are you doing!” the boy cried, coming closer to tug the jacket off her leg. “It’s not a pair of pants! You put it around your waist! What is wrong with you?” He stopped suddenly, looking deliberately upwards over her shoulder.

Nephthys pulled the fabric tight around her waist. Marveling at its softness. The edges bled oil as they brushed against her legs, staining the whole thing black. She bit her lip, feeling tears well up.

The boy rose to his feet, determination blazing in his eyes. “Stay here,” he said, and took off moving almost as fast as the strongest warrior could swim. Nephthys stared after him, feeling completely bewildered, but in no more than a minute he returned, holding some fabric high.

“Here’s a pair of pants!” he called, pushing the fabric into her hands. “Now put this on while I look this way.” He turned his back to her. She slipped into the pants, one foot in one hole and the other in the other and pulled up, glancing at the boy for reference.

“Thank you,” she murmured as they came up. They fit awkwardly, so loose she had to tuck them under her plates to keep them up, but Nephthys didn’t care. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry about it,” the boy smiled. “I’m Kodya, what’s your name?”

“Nephthys,” Nephthys said, and the boy smiled.

-----------

The bell rang at the shop door as Nephthys broke from the memory. She and Sylvia traded a look of pure fear, before Sylvia began to flop as fast as she could towards the back. Nephthys helped by all but shoving her behind the curtain before standing up to lie her head off to whatever customer showed up.

She needn’t have worried. It was only Knox, here for his daily dose of “love potion.” Nephthys would have felt bad about that, it wasn’t a real potion, just honey and lemon and some sugar water thrown in, but he wasn’t actually buying it for himself. Rather he was buying it for Alistair who was not allowed in Nephthys’ shop during work hours, after a flirting fail got a tourist to call the cops.

He took it without any confusion as to why Nephthys was apparently hiding under her desk, and went on his way. But Nephthys breathed a sigh of relief when he walked out of the door.

“Excuse me,” Nephthys spun around to see Tori standing in front of the curtain, looking nervous. Her shoulders straightened as she noticed Nephthys’ attention.

“I would like to apologize,” she began, “for my earlier rudeness, and thank you for the shelter and kindness you have shown me and my companions.” She gave a stiff half bow and nearly toppled over, clearly not used to doing so without a tail or the water to keep her steady.

“It’s nothing,” Nephthys waved a hand. “I didn’t have a chance to explain, and so it must have come as quite a shock. Besides,” she added when she saw Tori was about to protest. “Any friend of Kody’s is a friend of mine.” He had so few of them after all.

Tori shifted uncomfortably, and Nephthys raised an eyebrow. Did she not get along with Kody? He seemed fine with her when he talked about them all with Nephthys. Perhaps she was just still feeling guilty. She opened her mouth to reassure her, but Tori got there first.

“There is one thing I would ask of you,” she began, glancing back at the curtain and lowering her voice. “Do you have any great skill at healing?”

Nephthys raised an eyebrow. It had been a while since anyone had asked her of that. Most of her healing magic was tucked away in her potions, hidden as cold cures or natural headache relief. Her finer work was only sold to the organization, who claimed it was too dangerous for her to sell it on the street lest people become suspicious. But nonetheless…, “I do.” She confirmed.

Tori bit her lip as she stepped closer to Nephthys. “What I am about to tell you, you must not tell Gyrus,” she whispered. “But his mother, who has struggled with health since his birth, has taken a turn for the worst. She did not want him to see her, and so allowed him to go on this quest. If you have any way to help,-“ Tori’s eyes widened hopefully, “perhaps she could recover before Gyrus realized.”

Nephthys took a deep breath. “I’ll help if I can,” she said. “Gladly. But I’d need to examine her before I could determine a proper treatment.”

“That’s no problem!” Tori jumped in. “I can swim you to where we have stashed her. It’s not so far.” But Nephthys shook her head.

“If I were to treat her, she’d need to be brought to me,” Nephthys reluctantly explained. “And I can’t go out into the water.”

“Why not?” Tori pressed. “You’re a sea witch.” Nephthys stiffened and Tori noticed. “If the distance is a problem for tentacles, we could go slowly,” she offered, coming to a well-meaning, but completely wrong conclusion.

“I’m afraid that won’t work either,” Nephthys shook her head, a false smile on her lips. “You see, I can’t swim in my other form. The oil burn on my gills prevents me from breathing underwater.”

Tori flinched, and Nephthys felt her heart clench. She looked so guilty, and heartbroken. Nephthys wished she could do something to help. She knew how horrible it felt to be helpless.

----------

The boy called Kodya led her along the side of the ship towards what he claimed was the captain’s office. Nephthys wasn’t certain what a captain was, but Kodya seemed pretty convinced he would be able to help her. “He’s known my dad for ages,” he reassured her. “He’ll know what to do.”

Nephthys privately disagreed, how could anyone help her when everyone she’d ever loved was dead or dying beneath the waves? But she kept this to herself.

Kodya noticed anyways, shooting her worried glances as he ushered her along. He seemed determined to keep her from looking at the water, planting himself firmly between it and her, and chatting about anything small that came into his head in an effort to distract her. It would be sweet, if he wasn’t so horrible at it.

Case and point: “your shirt is weird,” Kodya said. “Where did you get it?”

Nephthys touched her white plates, grown, carved, and be spelled from the finest coral skeletons she could find. “Nowhere,” she said. “I made it myself.” Proper plates for a proper sea witch. Her father had been so proud.

“Is it a Transformers costume?” Kodya asked, and Nephthys sensed a layer of hope in his voice.

“I don’t know what that is?” Nephthys said, and Kodya’s face fell. “I made it with magic,” she offered instead, hoping to cheer him up.

His head snapped to her, and he regarded her with mild alarm, until his eyes landed on her smile, and the concern melted into mild annoyance. “You’re pulling my leg,” he grumbled.

“I’m really not,” She giggled. “I’m a witch you see.” And a sea witch at that. Not that he was likely to believe her, since most of her kind stayed well away from humans. Speaking of which, a movement on the horizon caught her eye. Was that a pod gathering? What were they doing so close to the oil spill?

Her answer came as the most lovely song filled the air, full of mourning and heartbreak. Nephthys felt her own eyes tear up as her sorrow began to overwhelm her.

“Can you hear that?” Kodya stopped mid eyeroll, gaze fastened on the horizon. Nephthys was too overwhelmed to reply, and so he began moving towards the railing, movements slow and lethargic.

Later Nephthys would curse her own foolishness, for who among the siren and sea witch did not know what a trance looked like? But the truth was there was no way she could have seen it coming. Her own grief overwhelmed her, and besides, mourning chants are not supposed to be dangerous.

Kodya climbed over the railing, and too late Nephthys realized what was going on. She threw herself forward, but Kodya was already falling down into the oil covered water. She collapsed on the edge, half wanting to follow, but knowing neither form could face the dangers of the oil.

Helpless, she could only scream, as something below the water snaked towards him.

----------

“I am sorry,” Tori said, and Nephthys’ attention focused on her and not on the past. “I did not mean to bring up painful memories.”

Nephthys gave Tori a false smile. “It was not your fault. You didn’t know.”

Tori looked like she was going to protest, but at that moment, a bright light surrounded Tori’s legs. Tori collapsed with a cry of shock, and as Nephthys blinked away spots she found Tori on the ground, towel still wrapped around her blue tail.

“Oh my,” Nephthys glanced at her watch, to find two hours had passed. “that has to be the shortest time I’ve ever seen. That piece of sea glass must not have been in the sea very long.”

Tori twitched her tail, looking pleased as she ran a hand over the burnt orange tips. “Your potion works well Nephthys, my tail is completely normal.”

“How lovely,” Nephthys giggled. A motion on the street caught her eye, a car on the otherwise deserted street. It didn’t stop, but it would only be the first of many as people began to get off of work. “We should probably get you back in the sea though,” she said.

“Aye,” Tori nodded. “There has been enough adventure today.” She pulled herself to the curtain and stuck her head inside. “My tail has returned,” she yelled. “I believe it is time to return.”

“Sure!” Gyrus pulled himself and his makeshift wheelchair out. Sylvia followed, leaving a trail of water in her wake.

“You can’t go out like that!” Kodya appeared behind them, looking harried. “We’re trying not to get caught and experimented on, remember?”

“Experimented on?” Nephthys raised an eyebrow. Kodya blushed.

“Well what else do you think the government’s going to do with them if they find them?” He snapped back.

You’d be surprised, Nephthys thought as she hid a smile behind her hand. “We can use the back,” she offered as Kodya shot her a frown. “Less people will be paying attention.”

Kodya sighed. “I’ll bring the truck around,” he grumbled as he grabbed his keys. Nephthys turned to the three sirens on her floor.

“Come back this way,” she said as she pushed open the curtain again. “The back door is in the back.” The three sirens groaned, clearly embarrassed they had to go backwards again. Nephthys led them to the back door, half hidden behind the workbench. It took a bit of time to move the bench, the three sirens' attempts to help had the opposite effect, but by the time it was free Kodya had already pulled up the truck.

From there it was a simple matter of helping Tori and Sylvia into the back of the truck, wrapped in towels to hide their towels. Gyrus’ wheelchair turned out to be a bit more of a challenge, and Kodya eventually decided to stick it in the backseat to avoid any odd questions from anyone who drove by them on the road.

Nephthys privately thought this was less about people wondering why a wheelchair was in the back of the truck with three people in a pool, and more to do with Gyrus’ earlier request. He was certainly ecstatic about it, clinging to the back of Kodya’s seat and chatting his ear off as he asked him how the car worked and what the steering wheel did.

Kodya for the most part answered calmly, but his whole face was bright red. Nephthys did not find this nearly as cute as before though, as she lost count of the times they very nearly died thanks to Kodya’s distraction. She was very glad when they arrived at the shore.

“Not here,” she stopped Kodya as he tried to pull in at the docks. “Go down a little farther, they’ll be less people.”

Kodya raised an eyebrow. “You mean that government issued beach? The one no one is allowed on?”

“It’ll be fine,” Nephthys reassured him. “I can get us in.” Kodya shot her a searching look, and Gyrus looked back and forth between them in confusion. Then Kodya shrugged and did as she requested.

The road was predictably blocked by a large gate, but that had never stopped Nephthys before. She got out and pulled a piece of plastic to the scanner. The gate opened with a rusty creak.

Kodya raised an eyebrow as she got back in the car. “Did you use your magic to fool it?” he asked as Gyrus leaned eagerly forward. Nephthys shook her head.

“Just borrowed something from our dear mum,” she said as she flashed a familiar badge at Kodya. “She doesn’t even know it's missing.” This was a lie, but Kodya didn’t need to know that.

Kodya opened his mouth, no doubt to tell her off. Nephthys raised an eyebrow, remembering several times he’d stolen the same badge to try and buy alcohol, or pet the puppies at Petco. Kodya shut his mouth and kept driving.

The single pier was empty, and perfect for their needs. Nephthys helped Tori to the edge while Kodya helped Sylvia. Gyrus attempted to wheel himself, but Kodya caught him before he tipped over. “We’ll need this dry,” he said as he pulled Gyrus out of the wheelchair. Gyrus pouted.

He waved at Nephthys. “I’ll bring you sea glass! Don’t forget!” he said, before wiggling out of Kodya’s arms and diving into the water. Kodya stumbled backwards and landed on his butt on the pier as Gyrus resurfaced. “Oops,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you okay Kodya?”

“Fine, Kid,” Kodya grumbled. Gyrus beamed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” he cried. Tori called to him, and he swam off, only stopping to wave goodbye on the horizon.

Nephthys watched him go. “They’re wonderful,” she murmured. Wonderful for Kodya. He’d needed a bit of magic in his life, and although she couldn’t reveal it, she’d always hoped he’d find some.

Kodya turned to her, brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me about magic or mermaids or the sea? And be honest this time.”

Nephthys froze. Oh no.

----------

Nephthys sat on the strange bench, Kodya’s shirt around her shoulders, and shivered. All around her conversation buzzed, some complaining about how this unexpected delay would affect the rest of their cruise, others bemoaning the unfortunate fate of the ocean, as if they had any conception of the depth of the cost. Still others whispered to each other behind covered hands, shooting Nephthys curious looks and calling her, ‘only survivor’ and ‘poor thing.’ Throughout it all Nephthys clutched the soft fabric around her shoulders, feeling numb.

A woman in sharp black strode forward, and Nephthys could tell from the way people moved out of her way that she was important. She stopped directly in front of Nephthys and crossed her arms.

“My name is Senator Karevic,” she said, voice clipped and smooth. “You were there when my son fell into the water, correct?”

“It wasn’t his fault!” Nephthys pulled the fabric closer around her shoulders. “He was helping me!”

“My son has already admitted to falling after he helped you, so you don’t need to cover for him.” Nephthys looked down, feeling oddly chastened, and the woman sighed. “He’s fine,” the woman added, face softening slightly as she met Nephthys’ eyes. “Would you like to see him?”

“Yes, please,” Nephthys said, knowing her guilt would not ease until she saw Kodya unharmed. The woman waved Nephthys to her feet, and guided her out of the crowded area and down a quiet hallway. Nephthys followed, still a bit unsteady on her new feet, as she tried to keep up with the woman’s quick pace.

“You’re a sea witch, aren’t you?” the woman said without preamble, as soon as they had passed out of earshot. Nephthys stopped dead.

“H-how?” she stuttered out, heart pounding in her chest and deafening her ears. That was supposed to be a secret, no humans were supposed to know.

“Your plates,” the woman said, back still turned. “I knew you were one of the sea folk from Kodya’s story, but I wasn’t certain which one until I saw them. To wear white at such a young age,-” the woman turned to face Nephthys, and Nephthys could see her eyes were wet, “-that truly is a great honor.”

Nephthys bit her lip. She knew no normal human would understand what a plate was, especially considering Kodya’s earlier reaction. “Are you - ?” she started, but was too afraid to finish, for fear of the answer she might get.

“I’m one of the sea folk, yes.” The woman confirmed, still looking sad. “There are more of us on land then you’d think.” She hesitated, then said, “I know this is hard, but I’m going to need you to tell me what happened to you, if you’re up for it.”

Nephthys burst into tears. Through her sobs, she managed to get the basic details, how her pod had been hunting when the great ship had come by, the singers thought they could sing it away, how it had spilled, how her dad had given her the last potion and told her to run, how he’d- he’d…

“I’m all alone now,” she sobbed. “My whole pod, gone.” Arms circled around her, and the woman pulled her close to her chest, rubbing soothing circles as she sobbed.

“Brave,” the woman murmured, “you’ve been so brave little pup, but it’s okay to cry.” She held Nephthys until her sobs died down into sniffles, before pulling slightly away.

“There’s an organization here that can help you,” she offered. “They helped me start over when I needed to. If you’d like, I can put you in touch with them, and they can find you a place to live where you don’t have to worry.” She hesitated again, before adding, “…or…”

“Or?” Nephthys prompted as she gave another sniffle.

“Kodya spoke highly of you,” the woman began, “and I know he’s lonely now I have to work so much. If you want, you could live with us. “Nephthys gasped and the woman rushed to continue. “We’d still put you in touch with the organization, you’d just have familiar faces at your new home.”

“Really?” Nephthys peaked up at her. “I could stay with you and Kodya?”

“Yes,” the woman nodded. “But,” she held up a hand, “before you agree, you need to know the conditions.” She looked Nephthys directly in the eye, and Nephthys suppressed a shiver at the hard determination hidden inside. “In my house you won’t be free to talk about magic or the sea. Kodya must never know. He does not belong in our world. If you live with us, you must understand this.”

“I- okay,” Nephthys looked down. A part of her was curious as to why, but the woman’s aura flickered a sad, sickly grey all around her, and Nephthys could sense that the reason behind that rule would be too sad for her to bear right now. She bit her lip.

“I would still be able to talk about magic when Kodya’s not there right?” she asked, and the woman nodded.

“Just provided he doesn’t overhear, yes.” Nephthys gave a sharp nod.

“Okay, then I want to live with you, and Kodya,” she said. She’d rather be around kind people than strangers, and besides, she didn’t think she’d be able to talk about the sea much for a while.

The woman looked mildly surprised, but she gave Nephthys a warm smile. “Then let’s go and break the good news to Kodya,” she said, and led Nephthys deeper inside the ship.

----------

Nephthys bit her lip, wondering how best to get out of this situation without revealing secrets that weren’t hers and losing her home and family. “You remember where you found me right?” she began hesitantly.

“On our cruise ship,” Kodya nodded. “When we got stuck in the oil spill.”

“Yes,” Nephthys nodded. “I wasn’t actually from the oil ship. My pod was swimming below when the spill happened.” She pulled her knees up to her chin, blinking away the memories.

Kodya placed a comforting hand on her back. “Go on,” he pressed.

Nephthys took a deep breath. “My dad gave me the potion, he used to keep one on him at all times, so that if he needed an ingredient from the surface world he could go and fetch it. He said I was too young though, even though I was fully plated. When the oil began to spill, he gave it to me and told me to swim.”

Kodya swore in Russian, and Nephthys shot him an empty smile. “I climbed on the ship farthest from the spill, drank it, and you know the rest.”

Kodya was silent for a while, before he finally asked, “But why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you.”

“You were plenty of help. Besides,” Nephthys drew in another breath. “I made a promise.” Not technically a lie, not yet.

“A promise?” Kodya asked, sounding lost.

Nephthys nodded. “It was a rule of my dad’s, ‘never get caught on the surface, no matter what.” Again, not technically a lie, but the conclusion she was hoping he would draw certainly was. Her dad had never made her make any promises about the surface world because he’d never let her go. And it wasn’t like he had time to sit down and explain when she’d had to flee.

“Oh,” Kodya looked down and withdrew his hand from her back, withdrawing into himself. “I see. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Nephthys reassured him, grateful he’d taken the bait. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.” More than he would ever know.

They stayed on the beach for a long time.

[god-fucking-dammit-mizutani]

Hiraeth

Word Count: ~3205 Tags: Vague themes of the Little Mermaid, Merfolk AU, brief mentions of blood, brief mentions of almost drowning, nonverbal communication Summary: Trapped in a net, Koushirou knows his fate is to never return to the sea.

Read below or on Ao3

Moonlight skims along the water’s surface, riding upon the waves that crash timidly against the great, beast-like structure. An odd few try to reach Koushirou, stretching beyond their means before crashing unproductively back to the sea. He wishes he could follow them. 

Night had always been safest to travel. Daylight brought the beasts men had tamed to carry them across the sea, thieving it of its resources and life. But at night they slept along the shores, waiting once more for first light. 

Tentomon had called them by name once. Ships, flashes through Koushirou’s mind, a sober memory between the panic-addled struggle. He thrashes against his bindings. Above him the mechanism whines, but refuses to give. 

It is useless, Koushirou knows, but logic does not speak kindly to fear, and so he tries again , pressing all the weight he can manage with his tail against the further end of the net, bracing his back into the ropes behind him. All it earns him is a slap to his face with his own caudal fin when the bindings tighten, his stomach muscles crunching and churning. 

He tries instead with his hands and teeth, sinking them into the rope, tugging with his fingers until they ache with the friction, his skin red and angry. When he slams his weight forward, the net sways, and soon he too crashes along the ship’s edge. Every bit of him throbs, from his tired limbs to the dryness in his gills, his scales, his throat. Air is sufficient for short visits, but it does not sustain his kind. It is not meant to.

Koushirou knows his struggles only serve to lessen his time, his energy. His life. 

With this knowledge Koushirou takes a shallow breath in, leaning his head against the rope that keeps him, his eyes wistfully trained upon the sea. He hopes to catch something , some form of life that may assist him, but Koushirou knows none of his kind would dare come close to a contraption of men. Before they could swim on their own, all children were brought just close enough to witness entire families of fish being scooped from their home. It was meant to be a warning; it was law. Koushirou slumps further, his muscles tight and howling against the constriction. 

Law. 

For moons, his shoal had lived in these waters, the longest they had ever stayed in one place since Koushirou remembers. When he does not return, they will move on, find calmer waters. Neither his friends nor his parents will dare to search for him. It is one of their absolute laws, enforced by Gennai himself. 

A smarting begins behind his eyes, and then slowly Koushirou feels a wetness along his cheeks, collecting beneath his chin. No, he thinks, wiping at them furiously. He does not have the privilege to lose anything further— he will only hasten the inevitable. 

But still, the tears fall without his consent. He has never cried in the absence of the current, without the steadfast nature of the sea, and it is cruel, he thinks, that they should taste of the home he will never see again. When the waves touch along the ship again, it does not sound as if they are coming to his aid. It sounds as if they are mocking him. This time the sea swells high enough, lapping at his back as if in apology, but it is not sufficient. 

Something on the ship rattles. 

Koushirou perks up in his entrapment, scanning along the shadows of the ship. He does not need moonlight, or daylight, to see; his eyes were made to function in the absence of light. Koushirou settles his gaze on a single man and his blood feels heated. 

There had been more, before the moon had reached its zenith, jeering and chattering amongst themselves in the odd language of men, swaying Koushirou’s prison until he had felt vertiguous. He did not need to understand them to know their intentions. Koushirou’s fate is the markets, and for a moment his heart prickles with more than loathing. 

Once he had dreamt of being in attendance to one. Tentomon had regaled him in the human custom, weaving a tale of stoney streets and colorful shops. Koushirou had listened, his eyes closed, as he imagined what it would be like to walk among the people of the surface, to have a feast of items before him without the effort of catching his own meal. Oh, he had wanted to be a part of it in some way, but not as the menu. Not as one of it’s trinkets. 

Oh Tentomon, he thinks for a moment. How long would he wait for Koushirou to return, before he, too, decamped? 

His predator stalks closer. Instinctively Koushirou bares his teeth, narrowing his eyes, any and all ways he can think to keep this man from approaching further, but he is undaunted. Instead, his lips move lightly, bringing life to a sound akin to the waves that press upon the shore of the small, abandoned pocket of land he would meet Tentomon, where they kept a hoard of unsanctioned treasure stolen from the human lands. His heart prickles again. He would never return there. 

The man holds one of his hands up, waving it minutely. It is not this hand that worries Koushirou. Moonlight belies his secret, glinting awfully from the sharp, polished rock just barely hidden under the odd material that drapes over his body. Koushirou thrashes against his bindings once he sees it, shivering involuntarily from more than just the cold that settles above the water’s surface. There is nothing quite like it in the sea, but Koushirou knows it’s intent. Tentomon had brought him one, just like it once. Koushirou had been hasty to divest the tool of it’s secrets, barely touching a hand to the jagged edge before it had bitten his skin so sorely it had drawn blood. 

That had only been a mere graze. 

Waves chatter below him, harsher now, more urgent. The ship rocks under the heavy weight of the sea, but even this does not deter Koushriou’s captor for long. His fingers grasp along the raised edge, steadying his body against the structure with, what Koushirou finds to be, an impudently relieved look. After a moment he reaches forward, fingers grasping at Koushirou’s bindings, tugging the ropes closer until Koushirou can feel the cold, rough grain of the ship’s composition. 

He shudders; his body remembers the way the stone had cut. Koushirou's eyes, refusing to bear witness to his final moments, close tightly. He hopes that it is swift, that his parents do not cry, do not blame themselves, when he does not return. It was not their fault— they had done their best. 

He can still hear the human, his odd timbre never ceasing. Koushirou feels him close, but his own body refuses to let, still prepared, still waiting—  

Beneath him the ropes give way. Instinctively his fingers grasp for some purchase, his body tumbling against his control; down, down, and—

The sea welcomes him all at once, soothes the aches along his skin, the current slowly steadying the rhythm of his heartbeat. Koushirou gasps and breathes, calling water back into his lungs with a greed he has never known. 

A weight breaches the surface above him, grazing past his tail. Panic returns to him, the net catching on the fin of his tail minutely. Koushirou jerks and it simply slides from his body, but it is not the only thing; the human from aboard the ship sinks past him, the ropes coiled about his limbs like living eels being pulled beneath his weight. One arm is raised, as if reaching for his own purchase, but the man does not struggle, does not even open his eyes as the sea swallows him deeper, toward the inky-black depths that even Koushirou’s kin rarely skim. 

Koushirou watches, his finger twitching at his side. He should return home, before he is missed, allow the ocean to rid the world of one last foul human. Drowned men, after all, were not dangerous. It was the living who robbed Koushirou’s people of their lives; there were so few of them left now. He should—

Just before land, Koushirou finds purchase on a small cluster of rocks, urging the human to take hold. Koushirou knows the route to the island innately, his weary eyes searching it’s shore for nothing in particular. His head feels light with more than the exertion of struggling with another’s weight— it is the revelation that he is alive. 

Beside Koushirou the human chokes and sputters, fingers digging into the unyielding stones. With a subdued strength he tears himself out of the sea, water cascading from his body to splash heavily on the stone surface, the ropes Koushirou had fastened and pulled all the way here trailing behind him. Koushirou slackens his grip, allowing it to be lifted fully from the sea. Best no one else below the surface becomes entangled by the human’s contraption.

A wave pushes up against Koushirou’s back, urgently, reminding him that he must leave. Every muscle in his body aches, needing rest, and so it is with that justification that Koushirou stays. 

But when the human approaches him, Koushirou startles further away from the rock. The human makes an odd choking sound, something desperate that calls for Koushirou to remain there despite the protest of his logical mind. With only his eyes above the water, he watches the man inquisitively, waiting for the trick. The betrayal. 

The human raises both of his hands, this time the both of them barren. Koushirou wonders if his weapon has been banished to the depths of the ocean, and hopes this is true. 

Even in the dark, the human’s eyes are bright, as warm as the waters bathed under fierce daylight. It crosses Koushirou’s mind that this one may be a witch as his fingers once again touch the cool, craggy stone. Relief fills the other’s visage— at least that is what Koushirou thinks he’s reading in the human’s expression. 

Slowly, the man comes to sit beside him with a desirable distance, dipping his odd limbs into the sea. Another wave laps against the stones, splashing up against the human as he makes a deep, melodious noise, a single note, in the deep of his throat. Koushirou narrows his eyes, waiting, but instead the human opens his mouth, meeting his gaze with his own, starring as if he, too, is waiting for something. 

Koushirou shakes his head. It must mean something similar in their custom, because the human looks disappointed, and pensive. After a moment he lifts a hand up again, pointing to himself and producing a short noise. He repeats it, Koushirou recognizing the very same sound and—

Oh. His name. How odd, Koushirou thinks, that he had never considered humans might have special ways of calling each other as well. This time Koushirou nods, encouraging him to share it once more as he listens with rapt attention to the human’s name, “Taichi.”

Taichi, Koushirou repeats to himself internally. Shame rises to his cheeks a moment later. What purpose does it serve to keep the name of a land dweller? 

After a length of silence, Taichi softly touches a finger to his mouth, then opens his palm towards Koushirou. Oh, he wants him to try it, Koushirou realizes. His tail twitches, excited. A chance to learn human language is rare in the sea. Tentomon knew very few borrowed words from his travels. 

He lifts himself partially from the sea, resting his ear against the human’s chest. The other teeters back for a moment, the odd material over his skin damp and cold and welcoming on Koushirou’s cheek. He frowns when the human remains still, pressing minutely closer. Taichi seems to understand a moment later, the vibration of his own name reverberating into Koushirou’s ear. He speaks it slower, pulling the one word apart into even smaller ones, auditorily digestible. 

It never helps. 

Koushirou endeavours to speak it, even following the same pattern with his mouth he had witnessed from Taichi’s, but it is futile. His vocal chords are not made the same; noise drew attention in the sea. Attention was, generally, undesirable. His kind had adapted with very little need for it. 

Frustrated, his caudal fin smacks across a small wave, splashing water along his back, along the skin of Taichi’s arm. Something deep and lyrical vibrates from the other’s chest. It does not sound like his name and Koushirou presses closer, wishing to hear more before the melody peeters out. He falls back into the sea when his arms refuse to keep him up, considering the human above him. 

Koushirou wishes he could hear it once more.

Taichi watches him in kind. Light rarely breaches deep enough into the sea, but it shines contentedly in this man’s eyes, borrowed from moonbeams, and yet, Koushirou thinks, perhaps brighter. He has never seen a color quite like them in the sea, and so he commits Taichi’s gaze to memory, thinking perhaps he shall find something comparable among his personal treasures, for the sole purpose of just knowing. 

That is all, Koushirou tells himself. 

Taichi looks up briefly before extending his hand back towards Koushirou, then points it back towards himself. When Koushirou tilts his head, the human points at him once more, then taps at his own throat saying, "Taichi." It is a moment before Koushirou interprets his signals to mean, How would you say my name?

He considers this. His people were only vocal to call for danger, but Koushirou tries for a sound, Taichi on the tip of his tongue and gives two, short trills. 

Koushirou had thought his eyes were bright already, but it is nothing compared to the way Taichi’s face illuminates from hearing the interpretation of his name. In all the tales Koushirou has ever consumed, human smiles are fearsome things, made of rows of sharp teeth made only with the intent to maim, to kill. They are nothing like that, Koushirou learns, watching the edges of Taichi’s lip pull upward, white, blunted teeth on display, his eyes shining like the gemstones Koushirou keeps amongst his trinkets. 

His tail flickers again without his consent, breaching the surface behind him. Taichi follows the sight of it, his eyes wide and wondering. Moonlight sits brightest on his darker scales, barely noticeable upon the whites. Patches of red-orange scales are visible closest to his caudal fins and Koushirou frowns. Three scales colors are not desirable. They, too, attracted attention.

Koushirou smacks at the surface again, obscuring his tail beneath a wave— and the melody he had missed before returns unexpectedly. His ears perk up, eyes cutting over to watch Taichi throw his head back, mirth clearly written in his expression. When he catches Koushirou’s stare he tries to cover his mouth with the palm of his hand, muffling the noise. Without thought, Koushirou reaches out, beckoning him to lower the obstacle, to let him hear it, but the melody has all but vanished, leaving Taichi only smiling down on him.  

But oh. Koushirou understands this emotion. In the sea it is always quiet, nothing more than a fluttering of bubbles. There had never been a sound to attribute to it, but it makes Koushirou's heart flutter, his lips raise on their own. How could such a cruel creature be capable of creating such an alluring sound? 

A trick, perhaps, Koushirou has to remind himself. His heart wavers when he considers that it is not, that there may be more humans like this one. 

Taichi’s gaze on him is soft, inquisitive. It feels odd to be on the receiving end of such a stare. Taichi moves his hands again, this time Koushirou thinks it is to ask for his name. He frowns. There is no equivalent way to share it and so he shakes his head. 

Taichi smiles timourously. 

Koushirou rests his arms along the stones, resting his cheeks upon them. Taichi takes the invitation to start in his human tongue, this time not to educate but to simply speak. His hands move with his every word, and Koushirou does his best to follow, and despite everything he knows, wonders if they had been born to each other’s world instead, to any other world, would they have come to be friends? 

Sun stirs along the offing a time later and Koushirou startles, not knowing how long he has rested here in the human's companionship. He must leave. Other men will be out to sea soon, and if he does return his shoal will believe him truly lost. 

Koushirou looks up to the human, motioning as best he can to show this, but Taichi only furrows his brows and shakes his head. He could just leave, Koushirou reminds himself. His manners should not matter, for he will never see this man again, yet his heart feels heavy with the guilt. Was there not some way human’s signaled their intent to part without language? Koushirou considers the human’s face for a moment before, recalling how Tentomon had described their customs to him once before. 

Ah. 

Koushirou trills, calling for Taichi’s attention. Such a simple task causes the light upon the human’s face to brighten still, and Koushirou motions for him to come closer, reaching up with one of his hands. Taichi complies, the skin of his cheek beneath Koushirou’s palm plump and warm. He leans most of his weight onto his hand still resting on the rock much to the protest of Koushirou’s sore muscles, rising to close the distance. For a moment he watches Taichi’s eyes, wondering, asking, but he does not shirk away. 

He had feared the human might taste of iron, but Taichi’s lips are soft against his; sweet yet still tasting of the sea. It is only meant to say farewell, but Koushirou finds himself less willing to depart, the lid of his eyes heavy even as his heart sings within his chest. 

Kissing is a rare custom; his people do not share one as easily as men. Koushirou knows now why. It feels powerful, fills him with an insatiable hunger. Or perhaps it is because Taichi is a witch, after all. He doesn’t know if that’s a terrible thing anymore. Koushirou wishes he could stay to learn for himself. 

Taichi’s eyes are slow to open, darker than Koushirou has seen them yet, but still just as pretty to him as any gem within the ocean. Prettier, he decides. He wonder if too much time has passed now, if his message has been lost between them, and Koushirou thinks to kiss him again—

But that would be foolish, he knows. 

Koushirou offers Taichi a smile before turning tail and diving beneath the next wave. It swallows the human’s call, but Koushirou can still hear the soft timbre in his mind, the sound of his voice filled with mirth, can still feel the warmth of his lips as if they had never parted. Such things cannot be placed like trinkets, but Koushirou treasures them no less, tucking the memories inside his heart where they may never be lost.

[3starsquinn]

Happy Accidents || Morgan & Orion

Morgan tracks a book down to the abandoned Scribe headquarters, where she runs into a familiar face in the form of her student, Rio.

Another day, another ancient text or Scribe journal that needed front to back translation. Orion had accepted that he could get through about one a day, maybe two if the text was small enough and he was willing to stay up late enough. Another day down, another book down. Only about a couple thousand or six left to go. But he would take it one day at a time. He took breaks sometimes. He would hang out at the Scribe headquarters to do his homework, sometimes he would just read the texts for fun. He had even begun to sort the books amongst the shelves. Whoever had kept track of the books before had done an incredible job, but the labelling and order had gotten lost among the last forty or so years. So Rio had taken it upon himself to get things reorganized. Today, Orion made his way against the grass and towards the hidden Scribe headquarters. His bookbag was weighed down by a grocery book full of snack food and he carried a twelve pack of soda in his hand. He dipped between the trees and came across the impasse where the barrier stood. He found the tree that his uncle had shown him so many years ago and muttered the small incantation that he had memorized minutes after learning it. Something he could never forget. Suddenly, the Scribe Headquarters stood before him, and he slipped onto the courtyard to head towards the entrance.

Morgan was fine. More time to herself in the evenings meant more chances to spread her net wide in search of magic! Hopefully, soon, it would also mean more sleep, but Morgan’s body wasn’t ready to accept only having pillows to drape her arms over or the inferior quality of her bed. So here she was, following the world’s buggiest tracking spell for a missing scribe journal from around one of the curse years. Morgan could have sworn she had done everything right, and find my lost whatever was pretty easy as far as spells went. Granted, looking for something she’d never seen was a lot harder, but---the middle of the woods? Really? Morgan checked the amulet in her palm again and stepped out of her car. Getting warmer. Morgan was about to turn on her flashlight when she saw a familiar backpack bouncing through the overgrowth. Orion? Morgan followed a few paces behind him. The amulet, meanwhile, began to heat up in her palm. Warmer-- 

Se touched his hand to a tree and-- Shit. 

So much for no such thing as Hogwarts. The building was massive, the kind of library you imagine in fairy tales. Even the decay of skeleton ivy and stones burst by roots was beautiful in its own way. And--it was going to close if Morgan didn’t hustle. “Rio!” Morgan sprinted after him. “Rio!”

Orion was still reeling from Arthur showing up at the Scribe headquarters earlier in the week. In the past two months, Rio had spent a lot of time at the abandoned building in the woods. But he had never met another soul that had found the place until the local History Professor had come waltzing into the building as if magical barriers hadn’t existed. Rio had thought it was just a one off, but that was before a loud voice began screaming his name across the forest as Rio tried to hurry into the building. For a split moment of pure terror, Rio was convinced that it was Athena. She had followed him into the woods and discovered his secret and soon she would run back to home and tell the truth to their parents. But that voice wasn’t Athena’s, though it was familiar. Rio froze in his tracks and stayed completely still for a long second, finally building up the courage to slowly turn around to face the woman’s voice. “Uh- Professor Beck?” Rio asked incredulously. Of all of his theories, he hadn’t considered her. “Um… what are you doing here?” 

Morgan hadn’t been thinking of ‘next’ when she’d called after Rio. She’d been thinking of getting into the magic library where, apparently, her very functioning tracking spell wanted her to go. After she skidded to a stop, however, it became clear that she should have considered something. What did it look like she was doing, exactly, at sundown like this? “Hi! Oh, just--you know!” No, no. Rio had made a library appear by taking down some kind of ward. He should be answering questions and she should be composing herself like a half functioning adult. She held up her tracking amulet, which was starting to turn her hand pink with its light. “Maybe not so different from what you’re doing in the middle of the woods on a weeknight in a magic library. That is what we’re looking at, right? That you just down the barrier around? It’s a pretty neat one, from the looks of it.”

“It-It’s not a magic library.” Orion mumbled, clearly embarrassed. He didn’t do well in most social situations anyways, but being cornered in one of the few places he actually felt safe only made him more timid. The only thing saving him from a full on panic attack was the person that stood in front of him. Professor Beck was easy to talk to and had always been a nice person. Clearly, the two didn’t know much about each other considering their current predicament. “It’s an abandoned building.. with a magic barrier that surrounds it.” He supposed the cat was out of the bag on this, there wasn’t much of a chance of convincing she had imagined that the building had appeared out of nowhere. “There is a library inside of it though. Among other things.” His eyes homed in on the trinket that Morgan held in her hand and started walking towards her to get a better look. “Woah.” Orion whistled, “That thing is.. So are you like… an actual witch?” Orion knew that they existed, had seen some of their spells at work. But he had never actually had a conversation with one.

“Magically protected library, fine,” Morgan said. The point was, Rio was something. You didn’t just accidentally know magical passwords. But who was he? What was his deal? “Okay, one thing at a time.” She held away the tracking amulet, since he seemed to want it so much. Better to get everything out in the open first. It would really be just her luck to have a witch hunter in her classroom as one of her favorite students. “I can’t make any magically binding promises, but you know I keep important information confidential from class, right? So I hope you believe me when I say I won’t go around sharing your identity with other people. So, cards on the table: what are you doing here? Is there an axe in that bag, or a grimoire, or--?”

Professor Beck held the amulet out towards Orion and he gingerly took it from her, noticing the heat from it and trying to examine it from all sides. “What is this?” Orion asked curiously. It was obviously enchanted in some way, but Orion wasn’t sure what the purpose was. Professor Beck was obviously going somewhere with the questioning. Maybe she thought that he was a witch himself, or something different. He couldn’t blame her, he supposed. But then she mentioned something about an axe being in his bag and he couldn’t help himself but begin laughing. “An- an axe?” He kept laughing, the idea of Orion carrying around something that dangerous being uncontrollably humorous to him. “No, no. I promise I’m not like some creepy murderer or something.” He handed the amulet back over to Morgan and slid the backpack off his back. He unzipped it and pulled out the grocery bags from it, exposing the various amount of snack foods that he had planned on storing inside the Scribe’s outdated kitchen area. “I- I come here to hang out and study sometimes. But I’m not a serial killer. And I’m not a witch or anything either.” The code to get into the Scribe Headquarters had probably looked like magic to those unfamiliar with the Scribes. Technically it was magic. Just the kind that anybody could do. “Have you ever heard of the Scribes?”

Morgan went soft with relief and took the amulet back. “The word I was avoiding was hunter,” she said. “But that’s good to know. This little do-hikey is a tracking spell. I hit a dead end at The Archive and thought I would be more proactive about the missing link.” A scribe journal. Maybe Rio could help? Something about the earnest, overworked boy being a secret scribe made a lot of sense. “I’ve heard of them, yeah,” she admitted. “Come on, we can walk and talk--” She was conscious of her not showing off her own card yet, but no one hunted scribes. Sometimes, from her reading, it seemed that people would yell at them a lot and take out some frustration on them. But not murders. There weren’t any inkwells or notebooks dangling from someone’s trophy case. Or maybe that was just a lie of convenience. Maybe Morgan was just tired of keeping count of what doors to herself she’d opened and how many were due to summon in something awful. Morgan checked to see that Rio was still with her before going on. “You don’t need to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with, but I’m admittedly curious: are you okay? Is there a reason scribe-ing is your...do kids still call it a ‘side hustle’?”

Orion was content walking along with Professor Beck until he heard her say the word. Hunter. How had she read him so easily? How could she have possibly known about him being a hunter. But he wasn’t a hunter. Maybe by blood, but not by practice. It was enough to throw him off. He could feel his face heating up and his cheeks blushing. His forehead broke out in a sweat that he wiped his shirt across. “Yeah uh – no hunting for me. Animal or otherwise.” He finally spoke again, hoping to drop the subject altogether. “A tracking spell? That’s cool. And it can help you find whatever you want?” He could admit that he wasn’t well versed when it came to magic. He had heard that Hunter’s had employed Witches from time to time to help with protection spells or tracking spells. “Uh” How did Orion answer a question like Are you okay? Clearly, the answer was no for a plethora of reasons but none that Orion was comfortable answering or Professor Beck truly wanted to know. “My Uncle used to be a Scribe. A long time ago.” He decided to go with the truth, even if it was the watered-down version. “He’s the one that showed me how to get into the building. And he’s the reason why I’m trying to keep it going. I mean the Scribes are practically extinct at this point.. but I’m trying to do what I can.” None of that was a lie, as long as she didn’t care that he never answered her question. “Do you.. want to see what the inside looks like?”

Morgan listened thoughtfully. Rio hadn’t said he was okay, he hadn’t even bothered with saying he was fine. That was saying a lot, but Morgan couldn’t bring herself to push. The kid had groceries shoved into his backpack and this was his idea of a good time. Morgan remembered wanting to escape the dingier apartments they’d lived in. Most of those escapes had been to other, nicer houses. But sometimes it was the public library, or a coffee shop where self-assured looking students and yuppies worked away. She wouldn’t have been able to put her finger on the exact source of her pain then, as things stood, she wasn’t certain there was much good in nudging Rio to do any different. “Your family must be really proud of how well you’re doing then,” she said gently. “And I would love to see inside! My little tracker tells me it’s in there somewhere anyways. It might be scribe related. It’s not an insult to the scribe gods for me to take it home once I find it, is it?” she asked.

Against his better judgement, Orion actually laughed when Morgan claimed that his family must be proud of him. It was mostly instinct, something that he never planned on doing in front of others. For his own safety and the safety of others, Orion needed to keep people thinking that their family was put together. Orion knew how dangerous they were and was a little afraid to find out just how much more dangerous they would get if put in a tight spot. “My sister’s the one they should be proud of. Popular, athletic, Pre-med student. She’s the whole package.” Orion wasn’t lying, but he hoped that he had framed it in a way that had made it sound less parents are psychotic creeps and more I’m the failure child. “I mean, Athena has always been an overachiever.” Orion welcomed the chance to head towards the Scribe headquarters, hoping that the inside would help move the subject off of himself. He never quite knew what to say. “Uh no Scribe gods but just one kid that would really like the text back when you’re done with it.” He laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his neck, “What is it that you are looking for anyways?”

Morgan watched Rio sidelong as he spoke. She didn’t give as much thought to her students as she did when she was first starting out. It was almost awful sometimes, seeing them stress over the prelims, and the club drama, the relationship drama. And what was the point in reaching out when she could barely manage herself, or when they were out the door in four months? But her other students didn’t carry magic in their pockets, and they weren’t so caught between being eager and being invisible as Rio either. It hurt to recognize, like looking at an ugly high school picture. “You’re a person, Rio, you’re not a package,” she said gently. “And people should be proud of you.” But, that was not what they were here for. It would be easier, better, even safer for both of them to leave it at that. Morgan couldn’t hit an undo button on the ties she’d made thus far, but she could take greater care not to pick up many more if she could help it. She cleared her throat, happily taking the change of subject. “A journal. There’s a specific time frame I’m looking for, around 1885. I have a hunch there was something big that happened in town then. Something that was hopefully worth writing about. And what are you studying tonight?”

Without knowing much to say, Orion just shrugged his shoulders and muttered, “Uh thanks. I appreciate it.” He never really handled praise well. It wasn’t that he never received it. He knew how smart he had been in school. Teachers and staff were constantly singing his praise, trying to get him to open up. But it was more that he had a hard time believing anybody when they spoke them. Everything seemed to have an underlying meaning to it. Orion was quick thinking but lacked the discipline and courage to do his birthright. Orion was incredibly intelligent but isn’t good at making friends. Orion was a good kid but they couldn’t help but think he was a little too reserved for his own good. Orion was always waiting for the but. A compliment rarely came without it. “There’s a whole section on White Crest specific events.” Orion began, remembering the corner of the library that he had labelled. “It’s uh… extensive.” He pushed open the main doors into the building. A large opening stood in front of them and Orion began leading the two into it and down a hallway. “I- uh don’t study anything specific per say.” It was hard to explain what he was doing, mostly because he was embarrassed to admit it. Once he said it aloud he was setting himself up for failure. “But I like to read up on whatever peaks my interest once I get inside.” He talked as he lead them through the building. They made their way down a long hallway with winding turns. They passed by the door that lead into the sleeping area for the Scribes that Orion had hoarded his stuff into. Finally, at the end of the hallway was the door that lead into the library. “So, the place is pretty old. But uh- still impressive.” He smiled shyly and pushed the door open so his Professor could see the library. 

If the dust and the mildew hadn’t risen up to sting her senses, Morgan might have thought it was some kind of illusion. The books--admittedly ratty, aging books--filled more space than her eyes could take in at once. The wood on the shelves (real wood) bowed from the weight of cradling them all for so long. And there were shelves beyond them, cozy with dark. Morgan couldn’t stop herself from gaping openly. “This place is amazing,” she said. The amulet in her hand seemed to think so too, it was starting to burn. “Wanna see how well this thing works?” She asked, just before scurrying off in the direction that was hottest. “What happened to everything here, by the way?”

Orion felt an odd sense of pride when Morgan complimented the library. Though he had nothing to do with the structure when it was build or while it was active, Orion felt a sort of obligation or responsibility for the place now. As far as he could tell, he had been the first one in the building in what must have been a long, long time. For better or worse, Orion had taken over ownership of the place. For the time being at least. “Uh, yeah. It’s pretty cool.” He laughed nervously, following behind Morgan as she began down the aisles. “The Scribes haven’t been active since the 80’s. I guess… this place has mostly been abandoned since then. I just started coming a few months ago.” He decided against detailing the entire history. They were on a mission after all. “So what important historical event from White Crest’s history are you searching for?” He asked, curious. “I- uh know a decent bit about the town’s history.” He coughed nervously, trying to not sound cocky or arrogant. 

“I guess the 80’s were a bad time for everyone,” Morgan said darkly. “But what was it? An attack? Some magic self-destruction? Someone has to still be alive who remembers, right?” She continued to walk, moving faster and turning down shelves and back again as the amulet cooled in her hand (nope, colder). At last, the amulet burned hot enough that Morgan dropped it on the ground to save her skin and she began pulling out different volumes and flipping through the margins for dates. “Oh, and uh, that’s the thing, you know? I’m not sure. But probably something--weird? A big fire, maybe. Or some improbable death, I don’t know how many weird ways there were for people to die back then. Or maybe some freak, isolated natural disaster, like a flood where only one house gets destroyed, or a tornado that only kills one person,” Her voice took a bitter turn as she spoke. It might have been funny if it hadn’t happened to her life. “I’m just positive there was something,” she added more gently, flashing Rio a smile. There had to be, or why else would Agnes have packed up and moved to Texas, as far away from the world she knew as she could probably afford? 

“It had good music at least” Orion shrugged, not wanting to make light of whatever Morgan had meant when she said that the 80’s were a bad time for everyone. “It was more.. gradual than that I think.” Orion followed Morgan down the aisles as he thought on the downfall of the Scribes. His uncle had told him about it on multiple occasions. Sometimes while he mourned the career path he so desperately wanted but would never be able to explore. Sometimes while he was drunk, theorizing how it could have been fixed. Regardless, the roots had always stayed the same. “I think they became too big for their own good.” He began explaining, halting to a stop when Morgan froze in her tracks and spun to move back down the aisle they had come from. Clearly her magic tracking amulet was doing something to tell her which direction to move in. “The Scribes had a pretty strict set of rules. The large it got the harder it must have been to enforce. Eventually headquarters stopped staying in touch with each other. A couple even ended up getting burnt down. Now… well this is what remained.” Morgan stopped and was now searching through the shelves for something. For not knowing what she was looking for, she sure seemed to be looking for something specific. “Most deaths were caused by disease back in the 1800’s. Tuberculosis and Dysentery because the most common.” He wasn’t sure how he could help, but he grabbed a text from the shelf and began flipping through it, looking for anything around the 1880’s or 1890’s. “I uh.. don’t want to ruin the mood, but weird freak accidents and natural disasters are uh pretty common in this town. There’s a reason why they used to call it Wicked’s Rest.”

Morgan shrugged. “So was AIDS, until it wasn’t,” she said. “But that’s sad, too, about the Scribes. But policing knowledge is always a slippery slope. Every situation is different, what helps one person today hurts another one tomorrow. You can’t make choices for people you don’t know.” She was thinking more out loud now than anything else, too caught up in finding the right volume. The amulet was too hot to touch now, but she seemed to be getting on the right track reaching upwards. She paused and looked at Rio, smiling at him sheepishly, “Sorry, um--you don’t suppose you could reach up and grab me that one up there, do you?” Even cursed and half miserable, Morgan’s size never failed to show up and make things harder. “And I’ve noticed, but I have particular people in mind. It’s research for this new literary-historical project I’m starting.” That was a thing real scholars did, right?

“It was… hard to explain.” Orion thought on the teachings that his uncle at taught him. He wanted to phrase them correctly, to come from someone who knew the Scribes when they were still active. “The thing about scribes was that they didn’t make choices. Their whole philosophy was to observe and record. They never got involved, never made any decisions to our against anything. They were supposed to remain completely unbiased, stay out of things, and document history.”  The Scribe’s principles sounded good on paper but couldn’t be translated into reality. It was impossible to ask someone to be completely unbiased about something. “Uh yeah sure” Rio stretched up and grabbed onto the text, handing it over to Professor Beck. “That sounds fun!” Orion was always looking for excuses to get out of the house, and a literary historical project, however vague that sounded, seemed right up his alley. “Not sure if there’s anything I can do to help out, but I’d love to get involved. What particular people?”

Oh, dear. Morgan should have seen this coming. She had, sort of, in a too-distant-to-worry way, but now Rio’s awkwardness and eagerness was looking her in the face and Earth and Stars she was not about to get a student mixed up in her mess. How was that going to go anyways? Yeah, sure, automatic A if you get maimed or traumatized in the process of this independent credit! But how much could she really lie about? She needed this information. The more curse activity she could chart, the better chance she might have of learning where it started, maybe even without the need for exorcists or haunted houses. And that was a very tempting prospect. “Oh, it’s not that interesting,” Morgan scoffed. “You know the Bachman house, on the Bend? That family. They just have a sordid history that--” How was she going to connect this with something? Was there even a subject they’d covered in class so far that Rio hadn’t been excited about? “--that might coincide with some narratological developments in the region. Other places in the region. And other people’s lives.” Definitely not hers, nope. “Anyway, I think this is actually my magic book, figuratively speaking, so I should probably--leave you to it.”

Orion followed along with the professor’s explanation. The last thing he wanted to do was insert himself into a study that Professor Beck was beginning without invitation. Maybe she planned on working on this by herself or maybe she had already chosen some students to work with. As long as one of those students wasn’t Athena, Orion would be fine. The last thing he needed was another thing for Athena to dangle over his head and taunt him with. She already had enough ammo against him. “Well that sounds super interesting! If you ever need any help, I’d be happy to lend a hand.” It was strange, Orion had been mortified when he first saw Professor Beck outside of the Scribe headquarters, and now he was almost sad to see her leave. Though he hadn’t realized it, Orion enjoyed having someone to share the space with. Especially someone that enjoyed learning like he did. It made the massive place seem marginally less lonely. “Oh yeah, of course. Well I’m glad you found something. I hope it’s what you’re looking for.”

Morgan edged back the way she’d come, dispelling her amulet and packing it into her bag, but her nerves felt twisted with guilt. This was an awfully strange place to be alone. It was a magical place in every sense of the word, but it was a lot of space for just one boy alone. It would have taken her a lot longer to find this place without him. He was owed something. She stopped, sighing, “Rio--” What did she even have to offer this kid? “I don’t know how much this place means to you or what’s going on, but if you wanted to come by my office to look over one of these old tomes together, or to talk about something your other instructors might not understand, you can, okay? And uh, I know I never said what I am, but I’m assuming it’s obvious at this point.” She gently floated one of the books near his head for emphasis.

The pity eyes. Orion did not hate them, didn’t even really mind them at this point. To him, they were just an ever-present gaze fixed on him. Surprising, that nobody knew the truth about his family and yet they still pitied the pathetic kid. It didn’t take much to realize who the black sheep of the family was. Orion was just the awkward twin brother, forever living in his sister’s shadow and making the adults around him feel bad for him. Professor Beck was trying, and Orion appreciated that. This place meant more to him than anybody could know. It functioned more than just a big library or connection to his Uncle. It had become a haven. “That would be great. It would be nice to get some other perspective.” Orion smiled, flinching back when he noticed the book floating around his head. “Woah.” He said, recovering quickly and smiling brightly. He reached his hand out gingerly, wrapping his fingers around the spine of the floating book and pulling it ever so gently closer to him. “That’s- incredible.” The magic amulet had been the first example, but the floating book helped solidify the theory. Professor Beck was a witch. “It would be really nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff.”

Morgan gave Rio a warm smile. “I’m trusting you a lot with that demonstration, okay? It means you have to stay the kind of guy who wouldn’t nark on someone just for being a witch, and help his teacher without asking any questions. And, hey, maybe by the time you come by, I’ll have some kind of amazing update on this research front! So now you have to, just to find out, right?”

Orion had to admit that he was pretty honored to learn about Professor Beck’s secret. “Your secret is safe with me. Trust me, I’m great with secrets.” A little too good apparently. His life had devolved into a spiral of too many secrets that he had no way of digging himself out of or escaping. Eventually, his own secrets would be too much for himself and he’d end up drowning in them. But he could keep somebody else’s secret. “Uh- let me know if you need anything else. Like I said, I’m happy to help.” He smiled, a genuine one. “I can walk you back out. The hallways can get a little confusing.”

@mor-beck-more-problems

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya Chapter 5: The Masks We Wear

“You are, without a doubt, the most arrogant asshole I’ve ever met!” Nami screamed, her voice echoing down the steel hallway. Most of the crew had taken cover in any room they could find—things had been tense ever since the sunburn incident over a week ago, everyone walking on eggshells waiting for Law’s inevitable revenge. They all knew it wouldn’t be right away; the man liked to take his time, meticulously planning while his victim was lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he had forgiven and forgotten. There was already a large betting pool on what would happen and when, with theories ranging from her waking up to a room full of organs to being forced to wear a skimpy nurse uniform.

Most were silently praying for the latter.

Across from her, Law glared, arms crossed and knuckles white as a small vein popped in his neck out of frustration. They’d been arguing for nearly ten minutes, and for a man who was used to having his orders followed immediately and enthusiastically, it was quickly growing wearisome. “And you’re the most infuriating little witch I’ve ever encountered. I’m not even asking much; it’s completely within your skillset.”

“Like hell it is! You’d have more luck convincing me to wear your crew’s stupid jumpsuits!”

“And deprive my men of seeing you prance around in practically nothing? Morale would tank.”

She crossed her arms, scowling. “Then we agree; I’m not doing it.”

“Our agreement was that you work for me; that means you listen to my orders and carry them out, no arguments.”

“I absolutely never agreed to the ‘no arguments’ part.”

“All I’m asking is for you to pull your weight by using your skills as the Cat Thief to assist me in a little infiltration job. Or do you not know how to act like a lady?” he taunted.

She bristled at the insult but refused to take the bait. “I already pull my weight; I help Bepo with his maps, guide you through storms, and do my share of chores.”

“I’ll concede to the first two, but I know you’ve been conning the men into doing your cleaning.”

She didn’t even try to stop the pleased smirk from curving her lips. “I can’t help it if they feel like being gentlemen by taking on some extra mopping so I can dedicate my time to more important matters.”

“And you thank them by stealing their wallets.”

“It’s no secret I’m a thief; they should know better than to let their guards down around me. Consider it training; you said I shouldn’t let my skills degrade, and a pretty face like mine could be their downfall if they don’t smarten up.”

“That’s the only reason I haven’t removed your hands for it, Nami-ya,” Law replied sourly. “That being said, I’m ordering you to stop stealing from them. It’s not nice to take advantage of your crew.”

Infuriated, she jabbed him in the chest. “They’re not my crew! We’re in a temporary alliance, and I’m fine working with them, but I’m a Straw Hat! Get that through your pigheaded-skull!”

A hand shot forward, grabbing her wrist and pulling her close to Law’s tall, imposing form. “For all intents and purposes, until the year is up, you’re a Heart Pirate. I said when you first arrived, I intend on making the most of having you on my crew, and I meant it.” Arguing was getting him nowhere, so he quickly changed tactics. A shiver ran up Nami’s spine as he leaned close, hot breath ghosting over her sensitive ear and neck. “You’re stealthy, clever, beautiful, and one of the best burglars on the Grand Line. I can’t imagine a better partner. With our combined skillsets, a job like this should be both easy and extremely profitable. I just need your help searching the place for some classified documents once the party’s in full swing.”

A hint of pink dusted her cheeks at his flattery. “Documents?”

“Inside the main study is a safe full of Marine codes, reports on the various atrocities they’ve caused in the name of ‘justice,’ names of soldiers infiltrating pirate crews—all things that go for millions of belli on the black market. Besides that, our target is known for having expensive tastes. Bejeweled trinkets, high-end art, gold statuettes; the man’s loaded.”

Nami couldn’t help it; belli signs flashed in her eyes at the thought of getting her hands on that treasure. Law’d said he had a big job planned, and clearly, he wasn’t kidding.

It was clear that he had her attention, so the Dark Doctor pressed on, voice dropping an octave to seductively murmur, “And that’s just the study. Imagine all the rich pockets you could pick at the party. Far more profitable than my crew, and anything you manage to steal on your own is completely yours; I won’t even demand a cut.” Brushing his free hand across the sleeve of her borrowed shirt, he added, “I was even generous enough to buy you a new dress for the occasion, since you’ll need to look the part of a rich doctor’s lover.”

As much as she hated it, she was wavering. When he’d first proposed—or more specifically, ordered—she escort him to a party as his date, she’d refused on principle. But damn, after only a month, he was starting to figure out her weaknesses, and right now, money was a big one. She had very little to her name on the ship; most of her clothes were borrowed from Ikkaku, and while they’ve made port a couple times, she hadn’t been able to get much beyond the essentials. So the idea of having fresh, wealthy victims and an outfit of her own that she didn’t even have to pay for was tempting indeed.

Too bad she knew pirates like him didn’t do anything for free.

Ignoring the overwhelming heat of his proximity and her natural greed, hazelnut eyes met his hooded gaze suspiciously. “What’s your real game here, Law?”

To his credit, his lazy grin didn’t falter. “Maybe I just think it’ll be amusing to watch you force yourself to shower me with love and adoration all night.”

Nami didn’t buy it for a second. Beneath the sharp scent of soap and antiseptic, she could smell a con. “And who, exactly, owns the house we’ll be infiltrating?”

The confident expression finally slid off his face. “Baron Harpin Gerald, former Head of Intelligence for the Navy.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“He’s over 70 years old—far past his prime.”

“Whitebeard was 72 and still considered the Strongest Man in the World! Garp’s even older and he can throw cannonballs like baseballs! And do you really think a couple of pirates won’t be recognized at a former Marine bigwig’s gala? Especially one of the fucking Supernova?!” she shouted, trying to pull away for the certified madman who’d managed to rope her into service.

Not budging or releasing his hold on the slippery thief, he stated, “Lucky that it’s a masquerade ball, then. A good mask, some temporary hair dye, and no one will suspect a thing. Besides, no pirate would be brazen enough to walk right into the lion’s den.”

“You mean stupid enough.”

“And here I thought you’d enjoy making a little extra cash.”

“I like staying out of jail more. Besides, I’ve seen what your powers can do; you don’t even need to attend the party!”

Gold eyes narrowed in annoyance, though she got the sense it wasn’t fully at her. “On that scale, everyone with eyes will notice a mysterious blue bubble springing up out of nowhere, and someone is sure to raise the alarm,” he countered. “The other problem is that the safe is made out of Seastone—that means my powers are useless, and even touching the damn thing weakens me. So, I need a more traditional thief by my side as back-up.”

Realization hit her like Luffy’s Gum-Gum Bazooka. “You’ve tried to rob him before, haven’t you?”

“Once, about six months ago. Far from a success, though at least the injuries were minimal and he never found out who got past his defenses.”

She frowned. Now it definitely made sense why he wanted to infiltrate the masquerade, but she was still skeptical. “How do you even plan to get us in? If this party’s as fancy as you say, there’ll be a guest list, invitations, at the very list some kind of ID check at the entrance to keep the riffraff out.”

Law reached into his jean pocket, drawing out a shiny, embossed invitation. “Then it’s a good thing Dr. Goodheart Adrian M.D. and his plus-one have already RSVP’d.”

“You really think they’ll fall for a fake invitation?”

“I sent Uni ahead to switch out the guest list with an updated version. Bribed a servant to let him take his place. He sent me a message this morning that he was successful, so we’re in.”

“Like anyone would believe you’re a real doctor.”

“I am a real doctor—I wouldn’t have been able to save Mugiwara’s life if I weren’t,” he said pointedly.

Nami winced. There was that painful reminder of exactly how much she owed this man and that, whether she liked it or not, she was obligated to follow his orders for the sake of their deal. The whole plan sounded absolutely insane, but it was still a plan—far more than she was used to on her own crew.

And she really needed the money. Not just for shopping; being so poor again brought back too many painful memories of her childhood, of being poor and watching Bellemere eat nothing but mikans so her kids would have enough to eat. Of putting aside the majority of her haul after every job, counting down the days until she’d have enough to buy back her village. Of watching those shady Marines destroy the mikan grove, hauling away her stash so Arlong could keep her forever. Treasure was more than just shiny coins and cute outfits to her—it was a safety net, something she clung to as tightly as a child might a security blanket.

Money could keep monsters at bay, and now that she was stuck on a ship with the Surgeon of Death, that fact was more prominent than ever.

So as much as she wanted to refuse and wipe that smug glint from his eye, she knew he had her backed into a corner, where the most she could do was give in gracefully.

At long last, she sighed, “My dress better have pockets.”

XXX

Though she generally preferred casual clothes, Nami appreciated expensive things, and the gown Law had gotten her definitely screamed “money.” The gold satin overdress, embossed with darker gold leopard spots, draped over her curves magnificently, cinching tightly at the waist with a black and gold belt; the bottom had an under layer of stiff interfacing, allowing it to flare out like a ballgown without the need for tulle or petticoats while concealing a daring slit where she could slip her ill-gotten goods into the many hidden interior pockets or expose the pale flesh of her leg as a distraction. The plunging neckline was nearly to her sternum, and the long, billowing sleeves hid her signature tattoo. It was more like an extremely fancy robe in its design, and underneath was a skintight, black, spaghetti-strap bodysuit much better for sneaking around in, her Clima-Tact strapped to her thigh. A string of pearls and matching earrings completed the look—it wasn’t quite as fancy as what she was sure other women would be wearing, but it was what she had, and it was less conspicuous than going unadorned. If she were lucky, maybe she’d have the opportunity to swipe something better off a drunk heiress.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” the Cat Thief grumbled as she carefully applied eyeliner. A long, dark purple wig covered her orange hair, the loose, elegant curls pinned away from her face with a few barrettes inlaid with pearls, letting the rest cascade down her back like a midnight waterfall. Ikkaku had given her permission to use as much of her makeup as needed, and with a bit of contouring and highlighter, Nami could hardly recognize herself.

“I can,” the engineer chimed from her bed where she’d been studying the mansion’s blueprints. She and the rest of the crew were tasked with causing a number of diversions throughout the island that would draw away the guards and authorities, giving the pair inside the perfect opportunity to sneak away to the study. “He made you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Honestly, I’m kind of jealous.”

“What, you want to be Law’s girlfriend for the night? Because I’m willing to trade.”

“Hell no—last time we tried that cover, I couldn’t keep a straight face. Nearly tanked the whole plan. But it’s cute how far he’s willing to go to get you on his side. It’s even funnier that you pretend you don’t like it.”

Nami snorted, brushing on some mascara, pleased with how sultry the fanned-out lashes made her almond eyes. “I don’t like it. He’s a creep, and Luffy’s rival, and I’m still waiting for the day I wake up on his operating table, heart and liver and kidneys on display and ready for sale. Or for him to sell me wholesale to the highest bidder.”

Shaking her head, Ikkaku replied matter-of-factly, “He wouldn’t do that to you unless you really tried to fuck us over. Like, there was one guy who joined up not long after me who tried to sell Bepo to some slavers—Minks go for a lot at auctions. Captain’s not usually one for cold-blooded torture, but he made that bastard suffer. Last we saw him, the guy was in pieces being shipped off to separate corners of the four Blues.”

She shuddered at the image, though she couldn’t bring herself to fault his reaction. The more she got to know Bepo, the more she wanted to protect him, too, and from what she’d gathered, the bear was one of Law’s oldest and closest friends. “Now that I believe, but are you seriously not afraid of him? You’ve seen what he can do, and while he’s not as bad as I thought, you can’t tell me all of his reputation’s government propaganda.”

“Why would I be? Even if he was as ruthless as the papers say, Captain Law takes care of his crew. Plus, I’m indispensable around here, and I grew up with four older brothers, so I know a thing or two about how many buttons I can push before I’m in any real trouble.” She smirked, as if she’d just discovered a big secret. “You’re not scared because you think he’ll actually slice you up—otherwise, you wouldn’t backtalk him so much. What you’re really afraid of is the fact that you’re not at the top of the food chain anymore.”

It gutted her that her friend wasn’t wrong. Though Luffy was captain, from the get-go Nami had basically been the one who ran the ship, bending the others to her will with either her feminine wiles or her fists. And while she certainly had most of the Heart Pirates wrapped around her finger, she didn’t like that Law had real power and authority over her while her usual threats and tactics had minimal effect on the cool captain. “It’s far from the only reason, but yeah, it doesn’t help. Don’t get me wrong—you’ve all been super nice and accommodating—but I’m not exactly a trusting person. And Law’s way more…I guess intimidating is the best word to use, than Luffy ever was. So I’m not going to be joining the guy’s fan club anytime soon.”

“Fair, but just give Captain a chance, yeah? He might surprise you.”

Before she could argue that she wanted absolutely no surprises from the Surgeon of Death, there was a knock at the door, the raps against the metal quick and precise.

“Seems someone’s here to pick you up for your date,” Ikkaku sing-songed.

Hazel eyes glared at her bunkmate as she got up to answer the door. “It’s not a date, and if you call it that again, you’re gonna find out why exactly why I’m Head Bitch in Charge on the Sunny.”

Steeling herself, Nami smoothed down the stiff fabric of her gown, determined to treat this night with the same level of professionalism Law used in the infirmary. A few hours of acting, looking pretty, and sneaking around, and then she could plan her next shopping spree. And despite his arrogance and innuendos, she was sure Law would take this just as seriously—after all, it was his plan, and the payout affected the whole crew. He knew what he was doing, and with the amount of thought and care he put into crafting this elaborate scheme, there was no way he’d risk it by pushing her buttons. Perhaps the night wouldn’t be a total disaster.

Those reassuring thoughts flew out the window into the ocean depths to probably be eaten by a sea king the moment she opened the door.

“Please tell me that’s not your disguise.”

Looking down at himself, the Dark Doctor’s brow furrowed. “I see nothing wrong with it.” Admittedly, he looked good; midnight blue hair, including his goatee and sideburns, was dyed black, and he’d put in grey contacts to cover the distinctive gold. His suit was sleek black satin, the knee-length, high-collared coat cutting a rather dashing figure. The vest was black and gold brocade, shiny gold buttons and matching watch chain adding a little extra flare. In his hand was a polished mahogany cane with a silver handle shaped like a bird’s skull, and Nami wondered if it was secretly a sword like Brook’s.

Yes, she could admit Law looked very handsome, but it was a shit disguise. For god’s sake, he was still wearing his hat!

“You think some colored contacts and dying your hair is enough to fool people?” she said, exasperated. “You’re a Supernova; your wanted poster’s one of the most recognizable this side of the Grand Line. You didn’t even bother to cover up your tattoos!” she shrieked, pointing at his hands.

He seemed genuinely surprised at her criticism. “You think I should wear gloves, then?”

Nami could have screamed. She’d expect that kind of answer from Zoro or Luffy, not a man who prided himself on his intelligence. Grabbing his arm, she dragged him into the room, pushing him down into the chair by the mirror and snatching off his hat, tossing it onto her pillow. His lanky figure looked almost comical in the too-small seat, long legs sticking out awkwardly. “Stay there. You’re going to wear gloves, but if you need to take them off for some reason, we want those things covered.” Squeezing out some foundation into her palm, she mixed it with some bronzer until the shade matched his skin tone. “Hold out your hands.”

“I don’t care for being ordered around, Nami-ya,” he growled in warning. “Keep it up, and you’ll regret it.”

“Well, I don’t like the idea of getting caught and thrown in jail because you didn’t think the Marines would be suspicious of a guy with DEATH tattooed on his fingers.”

Though he didn’t look happy, he conceded her point, hands steady and still as she applied the makeshift concealer. Definitely the hands of a surgeon, she thought, admiring his natural control. It was comparable to her own when she picked a lock or drew a map; not so much as a tremor, even when under intense scrutiny. Pleased that the black ink was sufficiently covered, she quickly spritzed on some setting spray and finishing powder, hoping the foundation wouldn’t rub off inside the gloves.

Inspecting his face, she then tilted the captain’s chin up, dabbing some concealer under his eyes.

“The fuck are you doing, woman?” he snapped, jerking his head back as if she’d slapped him.

“Covering up those massive bags under your eyes.”

“The hands were one thing, but I’m not letting you put makeup on my face. Besides, I like the world knowing that I’m tired of its shit and ready to kill at any moment.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s totally the mindset of a respectable, non-pirate doctor,” she sassed, jutting out her hip in annoyance. “It’s not like I’m turning you into a drag queen; just covering up some of your more recognizable flaws.”

His brow twitched at the insult. “I’ll be wearing a mask, so why does it matter?”

“You can still see under your eyes, and they might make you take off the mask at check-in. Are you really willing to risk your ‘perfect’ plan because your fragile male ego can’t handle a little cover-up?”

“Oh, just listen to her, Captain,” Ikkaku chimed from her bunk, the Cheshire cat grin on her face declaring to them both that she was mostly getting involved for her own amusement. “Nami’s the infiltration expert here, and you’re the one who insisted she come with you. Just suck it up.”

“You’re fired,” he snapped, pointing at her sternly as he once more dodged Nami’s attempt to dab him with the sponge.

“You’ve fired me six times since I joined, and I’ll tell you the same thing I always do—get rid of me, and Shachi’s the most qualified person to touch up your tattoos. You want that?”

Law shuddered. “Fine, you’re not fired, but you’re on kitchen duty for a month.”

“Eh, fair enough. Now be a good boy and let Nami tart you up.”

His glare could have melted steel, but he stopped resisting as the navigator carefully covered up the proof of his insomnia. Nami had to admit, she was impressed; Ikkaku hadn’t been kidding when she said she had no fear of the Surgeon of Death. It was also nice to see someone else backtalk him, as most of the time the Heart Pirates seemed to worship the very ground he walked on. It made her feel less like the enemy.

As the dark circles disappeared, she had to admit, she kind of missed them. Even though they could make her tired just by looking at them, they were distinctive and a major part of his normal appearance, and he just looked so different without them. Younger, maybe, and less mysterious.

Normal. Boring. Just…not Law.

Sensing her scrutiny, he raised a dark eyebrow. “Something on my face, Nami-ya? I mean, besides the makeup.”

Suppressing a blush at having been caught, she replied, “Just trying to figure out if you need any highlighter or lipstick. I’ve got a lovely flamingo pink—”

“Try it and Mugiwara-ya will have to find a new navigator,” he snarled, the hard look in his eye and the openness of the threat sending a shiver down the spines of both women.

Not willing to risk her life just to embarrass a man, Nami backed away, hands raised in surrender. Relieved that he wouldn’t be subjected to any more of her powders or creams, Law inspected himself in the mirror, lips twisted in a grimace as he studied the difference it made to his face. Nami couldn’t tell if he was more annoyed at the indignity of it all or the fact that she’d clearly been right, but grey eyes flicked to his messy black hair.

“I guess the hat did clash with my outfit, huh?”

“To say the least.”

Without a word, he grabbed her hairbrush and began combing it back into something a bit neater and more respectable, even as Nami groused, “Don’t use my things without asking.”

“Fine. May I use your brush?” he asked, not even glancing at her as he kept brushing.

“No, you may not,” she snapped petulantly.

“Oh, dear. Whatever shall I do, then?” he chuckled, tossing it back on the vanity, smirking at her grinding teeth. His mood was infinitely improved now that he was back in control, and while Nami appreciated not having to worry about being dismembered, a minute part of her wished he’d go back to sulking. “Best get that anger out now, Nami-ya. Once we’re on the island, it’s all smiles.”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

Getting out of the chair, he smirked down at her, pleased to once more have the height advantage so he could both figuratively and literally look down on the Straw Hat thief. “No, I’m enjoying this. What I’ll love is watching you try to keep that cute little temper of yours in check while we’re in public.”

“Asshole.”

“Only for you, sweetheart.”

A small vein throbbed on her temple. “Call me sweetheart again and there won’t be enough makeup on the Grand Line to cover up the bruises I’ll give you.”

“What an abusive girlfriend I have. I hope you at least kiss them better.”

“You wish. And if you’re going to be this much of an absolute prick all night, I’m charging you ten million belli per hour.”

“You want me to pay you to be my date? I wasn’t aware prostitution was part of your repertoire.”

“Congratulations; it’s now fifteen million.”

Ikkaku eagerly watched their back-and-forth like a particularly intense tennis match, grinning the whole time.

She didn’t feel particularly sorry for her captain or her roommate; both knew what they were getting into, provoking the other like that. No, she pitied the poor party guests, who had no idea what kind of unholy terror they were about to face.

Ah, to be a fly on the wall.

XXX

Tokken Island was one of the lushest and most beautiful little islands on the Grand Line, but the majority of the land was owned by Baron Harpin, forcing the port town to desperately cling to a jagged shard of the coastline while his enormous mansion and manicured grounds dominated the rest. Luckily, there were plenty of rocky outcrops and sea caves ideal for hiding the Polar Tang, and after teleporting his crew into position, the well-dressed pair made their way through the town.

“And why couldn’t you have Shambled us there or whatever it is?” Nami groused as she nearly stumbled for the third time. She was an expert at maneuvering in high heels, but that didn’t mean she was immune to the inherent dangers of cobblestone streets, especially ones so torn up.

Law chuckled as she finally accepted his proffered arm for support. The stubborn woman had refused to endure and physical contact with him until absolutely necessary, but it seemed the threat of a broken ankle before they could even get to the mansion had finally won her over. “My abilities take a lot of energy, and I’d rather save it in case we need to make a quick escape. Besides, I don’t want people getting suspicious if we pop up out of nowhere.”

She grumbled under her breath that he was probably doing it just to annoy her, even if, logically, he had a point. Wrapping her arm around his bicep for balance, she was finally able to turn her attention from the uneven road to the state of the town itself. Only about half the lanterns were lit, and what illumination they did give didn’t paint a very pretty picture.

The houses were run-down, roofs thatched haphazardly and some windowpanes packed with paper or rags instead of glass. The shops weren’t much better off, the display windows showing off rough-looking fishing supplies, underripe fruit, and cheap clothing. Only a few people were out, most looking worn-out or underfed, and those that didn’t stare at the pair of well-dressed pirates with envy watched them with hunger.

“If the Baron’s so wealthy, why’s the town in such a sorry state?” she wondered aloud. “I mean, just setting up this gala should have brought plenty of business to the port. Docking fees, restocking supplies, even sailors picking up cheap souvenirs—”

“There’s a private dock on the mansions’ grounds that he uses for deliveries and the like,” Law answered, barely sparing a glance at a skinny woman hoarsely calling out to passersbys, a basket of small trinkets thrust out towards them. “None of his business comes to the town—plus, he owns most of the farmland, so any crops are considered his property. All that’s really left is fishing, and the guy’s notorious for hating seafood, meaning these folks are shit out of luck.”

Biting her lip, Nami looked towards the woman again, freezing as a small child, yellow hair tied in twin pigtails down her shoulders, poked her head out from behind her frayed skirts. The little girl looked marginally less skinny than her mother, and without even thinking, the thief broke away from Law to inspect the woman’s wares. It appeared to be mostly jewelry—nothing particularly fancy but in the warm light of a nearby streetlamp she could tell it had been carefully made with decent materials.

“What are you doing?” Law hissed, looking around to make sure they weren’t drawing too much attention—most of the Baron’s guests wouldn’t lower themselves to pass through the slums like this, but he’d didn’t want to take any chances. That, and he wasn’t entirely sure there weren’t villagers desperate enough to try and mug them. He’d rather avoid a fight this early in the evening, and he didn’t want to get his nice, new suit dirty.

Ignoring him, she picked up a simple gold chain with a pendant made of four gemstones. They were beautifully polished, the marquise-cut purple tourmaline the color of the sky at sunrise. Their arrangement was reminiscent of Polaris, or perhaps the compass on her maps. “This is lovely,” she commented. “Is it locally made, or imported?”

The woman hastily explained, “My husband was once the Baron’s personal jeweler. He made beautiful pieces, but they were too simple for the Baron’s tastes. He wanted to impress lady callers, and demanded gaudier jewelry without providing the proper materials,” she said sourly. “My husband got sacked, and I’ve been trying to sell these off for a while. The necklace is 6000 belli on its own, or you can make me an offer for the set?” she said hopefully, indicating the matching ring and earrings in the worn basket, their delicate star designs winking in the dim light.

Immediately Nami could tell this woman hadn’t had any luck for a long time. The quality of the gems alone showed she was drastically underpricing the pieces. It was doubtful anyone in town could afford luxuries like jewelry, and if the Baron monopolized all the outside business at his own port, she probably never even saw other potential clientele. She was probably only even trying her luck now out of desperation. After all, you can’t eat gold, and with a small child to care for, any amount of belli would do.

“It would look really pretty on you,” the little girl murmured politely, large, purple eyes watching her in wonderment. Nami was certain she was the closest thing to a princess the child had ever seen, dressed in finery and on her way to an exclusive party at the glorious mansion on the hill. A real-life Cinderella, something out of a fairy tale she’d use to comfort herself on cold, hungry nights.

Nami had certainly been in those shoes, long ago, and she’d never been able to turn her back on a child in need. Her eyes were even the same color as the tourmaline in the basket.

Well, damn, she thought with a rueful smile. Poor kid could use a fairy godmother. Or at least a Cat Thief.

Pulling a black leather wallet out of her cleavage, she said, “I’ll take the set. How does 30,000 belli sound?”

Law’s jaw dropped as his eyes widened in recognition, immediately patting his pockets to confirm his suspicions. Coming up empty, he glared bitterly when the saleswoman replied, “Tha-that’d be perfectly fine!”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Law grumbled as Nami pulled out some bills, handing them over with all the care of a woman who was fine spending money that wasn’t hers.

The thief matched his glare, tossing him the wallet. “What kind of boyfriend wouldn’t lavish his lover with jewelry?” she huffed, giving the child staring at her with blatant adoration a conspiratorial wink.

“What kind of girlfriend pickpockets her lover’s wallet?” he countered, checking the contents to make sure he was only out 30,000 belli. Satisfied that the rest of his cash was safely in place, he glanced at the little girl, his scowl faltering as his eyes fell on the awestruck face of the little girl. Quickly, his gaze darted back up to the woman who wronged him, glaring like a basilisk.

Fluttering her eyelashes, Nami replied, “The kind who knows just how generous her lover is,” she quipped before turning back to the jewelry seller to collect her purchase. For a moment, a pair of gold barrettes inlaid with clear stones—possibly diamonds, again in the marquise cut—caught her eye, but she knew better than to swipe Law’s wallet twice in one night. So, reluctantly, she only took her purchase, patting the little girl on the head in farewell. When the kid bobbed a curtsy in response, Nami couldn’t hold back her giggle, returning the gesture.

That kid’s going to have one hell of a story to tell her friends tomorrow, she thought cheerfully, jogging slightly to catch up with Law, who’d been less than the image of a handsome prince by storming off up the road without her.

Joining her date, she rolled her eyes in exasperation at the dark scowl on his face. Even without his hat, his black bangs cast ominous shadows over his eyes. He was walking even faster now, and she had to work to keep up with his long strides. It was petty, petulant revenge against the woman who had dared to get the better of him. “Are you mad that I took your wallet, or that you didn’t even notice?” she taunted lightly.

Even from the corner of his eye, his hawk-like glare made goosebumps rise across her shoulders. “I’m mad because you wasted our time and my money,” he snapped. “I already bought you your dress, mask, and wig. My ‘generosity,’ as you put it, has its limits.”

“I’ll pay you back,” she ground out, refusing to feel guilty for her actions. That little girl’s smile had been well worth the price of Law’s irritation, but she also knew she had to appease his anger if they were going to pull off their grand scheme. When he scoffed, she added reluctantly, “With interest.”

“Why’d you even bother?” he asked, indicating the jewels in her hand.

Pulling him to a stop under one of the streetlights, Nami switched her original earrings out for the bejeweled ones. “It’s for the cover. I’m supposed to be a rich doctor’s arm-candy, and my boring pearls would have looked way too simple, especially with this dress. With these, I’ll blend in better.”

“You could have just stolen them.”

She frowned at him, genuinely offended. “I steal from pirates and rich idiots who can afford it. Did you see that woman? I’d bet all the treasure on the Sunny that any money she got went to feeding her kid. I’m not going to even haggle with someone in that kind of situation.” A soft, sad smile graced her lips. “My mother did that. Claimed she was on a diet when she really couldn’t afford to feed all three of us.”

There was a moment of silence as she turned away from him, hoping to collect herself before she started bawling at the memory of Bellemere’s sacrifices. Silently, she thanked her adopted mother, willing back the stinging sensation of tears forming behind her eyes. Ruining her makeup before they even arrived at the gala would do them no good. Besides, Law would probably have some kind of smart-ass comment about it.

The refusal to let her temporary captain see her so weak, she brushed away her sadness to focus on her new jewelry. Slipping on the ring, she admired how it gleamed under the warm lamplight. It was a tad too big, fitting most comfortably on her middle finger, but she found the style suited her. She might even wear the set on a night out sometime; maybe to celebrate tonight’s success. Assuming the plan didn’t go to shit, that is.

She jumped when he finally responded, “I hate to say it, but that does look good on you.” When she turned her head, she couldn’t fight the sudden blush that spread across her cheeks. Worryingly, she couldn’t tell if it was due to his sudden, intimate proximity or the small, appreciative smile lifting his lips. Such an expression seemed too gentle for the famed Supernova, and yet she found she rather liked the way it softened and relaxed his features. “You’re surprisingly soft-hearted for a pirate, though.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, struggling to maneuver the tiny clasp through her thick wig. Suddenly having so much hair was a real pain, and she wondered how she’d ever manage if she grew her own hair out. Short was more practical, after all, and looked cute on her to boot.

“Here, let me help,” his smooth voice whispered in her ear, and she felt her curls carefully gathered to rest over her shoulder. Nimbly, he took the necklace and fastened it securely around her neck. Tingles ran down her spine as the smooth leather of his black gloves brushed her bare skin, and the whole thing felt strangely intimate. Turning her around, Law studied his date. The pendant rested just above the dip of her bountiful cleavage, sparkling invitingly. “I’m pretty sure it’s still too simple for this crowd, but it works better than the pearls.”

Her reply was cut off by the curls she’d pinned up tumbling into her face, only to be swept back into place, secured by his deft fingers. He cupped her chin, appraising his work before nodding. Suspicious, because Trafalgar Law’s approval was never a good thing in her mind, she reached up to touch her hair, russet eyes widening when she felt gemstones instead of pearls. Head snapping back to look at the mother and daughter, her jaw dropped when she saw the little girl holding a wad of bills, beaming even more brilliantly than before while the saleswoman looked close to tears.

Turning to her partner in crime for the night, Law responded with a nonchalant shrug, though she could see his grey eyes soften as they lingered on the child excitedly waving back at them. “The pearl clips didn’t match the rest, and if we’re going to pull this off, we’d best go all-out. Plus, that cash’ll ensure their silence should they be questioned by the authorities later. I’d rather your kindness not get us identified.”

It was all very logical and well-thought-out and total bullshit. Nami had to smile as she once again took his arm, matching his easy gait as they made their way up towards the mansion. “Right. Because I’m the soft-hearted one.”

“You’re paying me back for those, too, by the way,” he quipped, smirking at her annoyed growl.

Before she could argue, he halted; the brilliant lights of the mansion were in sight, and small groups of well-dressed guests were gathering at the ornate front gate. It was time to stop being Cat Thief Nami and the Surgeon of Death Trafalgar Law, bickering pirates, and become a loving couple. Gently as a forest stream, Nami adjusted her body language, leaning comfortably against her partner, hand clutching his bicep possessively, face switching from a seething scowl to the deliriously happy grin of a woman pathetically enamored with her companion.

For his part, Law seemed to morph into his role just as fluidly, posture straightening into something more refined, his smile relaxed and charming; perfectly playing the part of a man who knew he was smart, good-looking, successful, and could easily use all that to get a woman as beautiful as the one on his arm.

Inside, Nami groused that he had the way easier acting job.

As they made their way up the mansion’s long, winding front path, crushing artfully sprinkled rose petals beneath their feet, Law slipped on a raven mask, the sharp beak curving over his nose and the shiny black feathers fanning out like little spikes over his cheeks and forehead. Nami was grateful she’d covered up his dark circles—the eye holes were definitely wide enough where they would have been distinctly visible.

In contrast, her mask was modeled after a cat, the color and leopard spots mimicking her gown perfectly. It flawlessly concealed the upper half of her face, while the large eyeholes showed off her beautiful eyes and wouldn’t block her sightline too badly.

Approaching the doorman, Law handed over their invitation, smirking when the servant checked it against the guest list before nodding, ushering them both inside. Another servant led them down an extravagantly decorated front hallway. The doctor hadn’t been kidding when he’d said the Baron was an art collector with expensive tastes; masterpieces in gold frames hung along the walls, marble statues and painted porcelain vases were displayed on opulent pedestals, and even the crimson rug beneath their feet was luxuriously soft.

Nami had to briefly bury her head against Law’s shoulder to hide the belli signs that sparkled in her eyes.

Eventually, they reached the ballroom, and as they waited to be announced, Law affectionately brushed his lips across her hair. “Ready for some fun?” he murmured, his tone affectionate but the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips screamed of devilish intentions.

She mirrored his smile and tone, eager to line her pockets and relish in luxury for a while before the real job began. “Absolutely.”

As the ballroom doors opened, the servant next to them announced them to their fellow guests.

“Presenting Dr. Goodheart Adrian and his escort, Ms. Chaton Bellemere!”