#nothing against sailor moon i love it to pieces

[whisperingwisterias]

Sailor Moon and Finding Strength in Femininity

Sailor Moon is an extremely popular anime that revolutionized and popularized the magical girl genre. The anime itself is very light-hearted and cute, documenting the mundane struggles and experiences of Usagi’s life as a 14-year-old girl, but underneath the anime’s fun exterior is a strong message of female empowerment.

At the start of several of the early episodes, femininity and feminine interests are portrayed as something bad or foolish, and women who are involved in them are silly and easily exploited. In the first episode, Queen Beryl and Jadeite try to take advantage of women’s love of jewelry, drawing women to the store by advertising a huge sale. The women there are shown to have a very materialistic and aesthetic-focused mindset as they scramble to get their hands on as much jewelry as they can. The next episode portrays how easily women are taken in by the idea of love and how it is seen as weak and something that can be exploited. Another episode focuses on women’s obsession with their weight on physical appearance, how they idealize a certain image and want to change themselves to fit it, and the lengths they’ll go to to achieve it. Jadeite even comments on the stupidity of women are their willingness to give anything, even their lives, to achieve beauty. It also comments on women like Mizuno who do not quite fit into the normal feminine stereotype and thus feel like their only worth or strength is in things like academic ability.

However, it is Sailor Moon who shows that all of these qualities and femininity as a whole don’t have to be seen as weak; instead she turns those qualities into sources of power. Rather than jewelry being a lure, it is the beautiful pendant that Luna gives Usagi that lets her transform into Sailor Moon. Likewise it is her tiara, another piece of jewelry, that she uses as a finishing move to defeat the villain. Even her tendency to cry becomes a strength to her in battle. Where others see love and feelings as insignificant and silly, Sailor Moon rebukes this by saying that there is nothing worse than those that think nothing of people’s feelings, and defeats the villain through the power of love that she stands for. She also stands against the idea that women are silly for wanting to improve their appearance, saying that “a girl who wants to lose weight is stronger than anyone!” and defeating the villain through her own dedication to losing weight. With every battle she fights Sailor Moon proves that her femininity is her power rather than her weakness, and is always able to defeat the villain on her own merit. Even when Tuxedo Mask steps in to help her, he as a masculine figure does not fight her battles for her, instead he is there to give Sailor Moon the encouragement she needs to defeat the enemy herself.

While some may still have issues with the way that femininity is stereotyped in the show, I think that Sailor Moon’s use of these stereotypes shows that women do not need to separate themselves from them in order to be strong or empowered. Instead, I think strength comes from being confident in who you are, no matter what you like and what your personality is.

[imjustheretoseetheprivateblogs]

AxZ Week Day 5: Poetry

@senshixshitennouweeks

In Silver Millennium, Serenity hands her a slip of parchment, claiming she found it tucked into the hollow of a tree where she had met with her beloved Endymion (she suspects that she was simply playing matchmaker).

The words compare her to a pool of water on a hot day, keeping refreshing, serene, and reflective in pleasing rhyme and meter.

Though it’s short, it’s words stir something in the princess of Mercury and she wishes to know who made such lovely phrases on the tiny blue planet that Serenity is so fond of.

Soon, Serenity brings her more messages that flatter her about her mind and her ambitions, mentioning her beauty to punctuate the writer’s fascination with her.

She never finds out who it is, though. The Silver Millennium falls soon after.

He’s in the library, looking for inspiration for a new energy gathering scheme for their great ruler. His last plan had backfired spectacularly (Video rental stores were not an antiquated idea; it was novel and retro!) and he was going to find something full proof. Beryl was getting impatient.

He pulled a book from the shelf and opened it. A piece of loose-leaf paper, folded into eighths fell from between.

Curious, he picked it up and unfolded it.

I wish to share my words, read the lines of text, to let others know my dreams.

The words stir something in Zoisite and, against his better judgement, pulls out a pen and scrawls a reply, trying to match the number of syllables and give it some kind of rhyme scheme.

Your words have found me now, and filled my heart to the seams.

It’s a simple poem, nothing he’d want to show anyone, but at least he got it out of his system. Putting the paper in between the pages of the book, Zoisite puts the book back and heads for the music section. He’d always been interested in that, so maybe something would inspire him.

Just as he turned the corner, a girl with short dark hair and blue eyes turned the corner and took the book he had just replaced.

The two of them stand awkwardly a week after their second (really third) meeting. They could sit down in one of Crown Arcade’s many booths, especially since it was a slow day, but that would mean sitting across from one another or, God forbid, beside one another.

She’s still not sure trusting him is a logical decision.

He’s still not sure if she even wants to talk to him.

The tension is thick and cloying, a sensation like wearing an old frayed sweater by a campfire.

“So… um… you like to read?”

It’s a dumb question. Between the three books she’s carrying and the reading glasses in her pocket, anyone could see that.

“Yes,” she answers simply. There’s no malice in her voice, but no feeling either. It’s a simple fact.

He retreats to his room when he returns home, trying to write his heart out on a yellow legal pad and trying to take his mind off how Mizuno could even tolerate him ever again.

It’s all chicken scratch though. Even simple fluff poems about flowers being pretty seem to be hard for him to write.

A call from his prince draws him out of his stupor and into battle against a leftover creature.

It’s a bulky, bulbous monster called a Daimon that was apparently made by science.

“Are we winning?” Nephrite calls after his sneak attack completely fails.

“Do you want the truth or one of those little white lies to make you feel better?”

Jadeite’s frustration is understandable, if the improvised bandage on his leg is anything to go on. Mars’s fire seems to have no effect on the creature, Tuxedo Kamen and Sailor Moon are pinned by the Daimon’s onslaught with Nephrite and the other senshi are still trying to make their way across town.

“Mercury Aqua Rhapsody!”

Glittering streams of water streak at the creature, enveloping it in ice and suddenly, Zoisite’s mind fills with descriptions for the attack and for the trickling otherworldly harp strings that accompany it.

Even when Sailor Moon purifies the creature in a dazzling display, Zoisite’s attention is still on the Senshi of Water.

The muse has struck him hard and maybe he can work up the nerve to thank her.

She recognizes his words when he submits to her, on a sheet of green paper, a poem about Hermes.

He recognizes her’s when he sees her handwriting in her little blue notebook.

Soon, little notes are passed between them. Verses plucked out of the ether to make little compliments.

Soon, they’re talking at length of wordsmiths and writers; who they like, who has the best descriptions, which would fit with music, which writer sounds like they would have voted for Shinzo Abe. Soon, it grows more intimate. Love poems, shared between the two of them, games that become heated the more passionate the poetry.

And the two of them begin to wonder when their games will be played to a work of their own composition.

[cockatrice-writers-guild]

Would You Still Love Me If I Was A Wyrm?

dragon au. yes

warnings: grief, suicidal thoughts, blood, brief mention of injury, death mention, swearing, this fic is Long

taglist: @autism-alley , @awkwardgtace​ , @tripodcat-gt​

I bring the hammer down on the red piece of metal again and again, each strike lighting the room as a flash of sparks rain down from the weapon in front of me.

My name is Emelia Markov, Mia for short, and I’m a blacksmith. I’ve made all sorts of things at this forge, anything that my customers can think of; furniture, gates, tools, armor, even toys when needed.

Tonight it’s a sword, one that wasn’t requested by any client but one that I’ve been working on all the same.

Because I’m going to use it to slay a beast.

A beast that killed my friend.

Jax. A performer. A good one too. He’d move crowds of people with his voice, leave them desperate for more. I remember going to his shows when I could and seeing him sing, pace the stage like a caged tiger while bathed in the spotlight, the way the moon played off his clothes, it was incredible. And together we were happy.

Then one day he got an offer he couldn’t refuse. All he had to do was go on a little tour across a few nearby countries to help spread his name, reach more people. They promised it would only take about a month, two at the most and so he hesitantly agreed. He hugged me for a long time before he finally had to go. I remember that too. His arms around me while the captain shouted at him from the vessel. He was laughing and I was too.

…I tighten my grip and slightly readjust the hammer before bringing it down again.

But finally he got on that boat and I went back to the forge and a few days later, word started floating in that a boat was wrecked on some island somewhere out in the ocean. His boat. They sent a rescue team to search for survivors but not one of the members returned. Rumours rose and fell as public interest waned overtime until eventually the chatter died all together, leaving me with nothing but a handful of half baked stories of bloodthirsty monsters and the emotionless condolences of the marketing company.

But he’s been missing for over a year now and after so much time spent waiting and hoping for some kind of sign, that by some miracle he’d be okay, I finally realized it was time to take matters into my own hands.

I need to face the truth.

Jax is dead.

And whatever killed him will pay for what it did to him.

-

The island out there had grown quite a reputation in the time since Jax’s disappearance. Even hardened sailors tend to give it a wide berth when they set off. Bad luck, they say. And despite it all, I’m headed there now, nothing but a small rowboat, a sword and the general direction of the island pointed to me by a hesitant farer’s hand. Rowboat because she didn’t want her sturdier ships to be destroyed. Hesitant because my destination has a body count.

I can just see it in the distance now. What looks like a massive piece of land from what I can tell, the bump of what might be a mountain in the far distance as I fight against the tide. Waves lap against the sides of the boat and gulls lazily soar overhead as my muscles strain to drive the boat forward.

And it’s all so…peaceful. The sounds, the smells, the infamous island slowly drawing closer thanks to my efforts. I can make out greenery now, a beach ending in a dense forest, the aforementioned mountain stretching to the clouds. It’s all so beautiful.

Which I find more infuriating by the second.

I can still feel a blade resting at my feet, the weight pressing into me as the boat sways a constant reminder. This island, not the endless sea, the island, beautiful and serene as it is, somehow killed my friend. Killed a bunch of people from what I’ve heard. Anyone foolish enough to go near it was never seen or heard from again.

I need to be ready.

Truth be told, I’m not even sure what I’ll need to be ready for. Even now, as the tide starts pulling me in, strong enough to know there’s no point fighting it, I realize I have no idea what I’m actually doing. The sword was just precautionary, just something to do while I waited for news that never came. Just something to latch on to. Was it the island that killed people or was it something that lived on it? Was there some monster out there or was it just a random tragedy? As I try one last time to paddle away just to see if I can and the force of the currents driving the boat towards the pristine beach breaks the paddle in half with a swift crack, I realize I’m about to find out.

-

Once the boat reaches the beach, I take a few moments to look around but there isn’t much to go off of in terms of landmarks or really any kind of indicator of where I should start looking. No sign of the wrecks besides a few pieces of rotting wood littering the beach either. So after looking the huge stretch of sand a few times over to make sure I’m not missing anything, I turn to the forest, pick a direction and just start walking.

The sword weighs heavily by my side, bumping into my thigh with every step and occasionally getting caught in low hanging branches. To be honest, I’ve never welded a sword before. I’m a blacksmith, not a fighter. It’s almost ironic. I’d forged hundreds of blades but never once thought of welding one myself. If somehow something on the island did kill Jax then I wasn’t sure I would be able to hold my own against it. Still, I have to try.

Well, that or die trying anyway.

But I’ve been walking for some time now and there hasn’t been that much of anything. It’s frustrating but I can feel the tension start to leave my shoulders as minutes turn to what feels like hours.

The sun peaks and eventually the shadows start to grow long and still I keep walking. Trees start to blur into a green mass as exhaustion starts to take a hold of me and I’m not really sure which direction I came from.

Had I come to the wrong island? Cursed tides and that old lady and everything pointed to this being the place and yet…

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The sun is starting to set and I’m still walking through a jungle, nothing but the occasional animal to startle me out of my thoughts. My legs are aching and the sword thumps painfully against me with every step. It’s going to leave a bruise at this point. Maybe it already has.

I’m starting to think of giving up, of why I even bothered coming here at all. Jax is dead. And nothing I do will ever change that.

Nothing.

My steps waver for a moment as I reach up and swipe at the tears forming in my eyes before letting out a shaky breath.

…

…what the hell am I even doing?

It’s almost night. I wasted a whole day just hiking through the woods with a sword strapped to my side like I was some kind of hero. Like if I killed a fucking dragon or something, everything would go back to the way it was before. As if…as if somehow any of this would ever…

God, I want to scream.

I miss him. I miss him so so much and I know it’s pointless but I need this. Some kind of control. Some kind of closure. I needed to come to the island that took my friend and do…something. Anything. Whatever it would take to change something. To feel something. Please why can’t I just-

SNAP

My head shoots up and I try to blink through my tears as I look around.

And I just manage to catch something darting through the bushes nearby.

Something big.

I’m up in an instant, sword awkwardly pulling me down before I start to chase after whatever it was.

This is pointless. I know that. For all I know, I just startled a moose or something. Based on what I’ve seen of this place so far, it’s more than likely that this island merely traps people with its weird currents and then starves them to death and yet

My heart races

I’m running, I feel like I’m soaring. My heart pounds and hurts and hopes and I trip over stray roots and push through branches that scratch my face and tear at my clothes and I’m running and I’m running and

I bust through a final patch of greenery and find myself staring down a massive black hole

I take a step back for a moment, my head spinning as I try to process exactly what I’m looking at.

…and it’s an opening.

The setting sun does little to light the absolute darkness in front of me but it’s a cave. A massive cave that seems to stretch on and on in every direction. And just beyond that lies the peak of the mountain.

A cave almost the size of a mountain.

That looks unreal.

That looks like a man eater.

I grip my sword a little tighter and after drawing a long long breath to steady myself,

I go in.

-

The orange light of the setting sun bathes the inner walls of the cave in a soft orange as I move forward slowly, quiet steps echoing in the massive space. The far wall of the cave is still shrouded in a heavy darkness so thick not even the sun can make a dent in it. A deeper hole from what I can tell, with this huge space only being the first chamber of what has to be an equally massive structure. It looks like I’ll have to spend the night here and then start exploring the deeper depths of the cave in the morning.

A glance around the first chamber reveals nothing else worth noting but all the same, I’m starting to feel like something is…off. The more I look around, the more my long slumbering survival instincts start to warn me. Warn me of what? I’m not sure. But soon I’m on edge, sword held out in front of me as I move through the empty space. It’s warm in here and I feel like it shouldn’t be. It’s dead quiet besides my steps but even then I feel my muscles start to tense up as if readying for something.

I keep moving for now, the grip on my blade getting tighter and tighter with each step. I can’t see anything out of the ordinary yet but still I hesitate. Something is changing. I take a shaky breath and listen carefully to the wind. The sound of the lazy breeze outside is…different. Persistent.

Rhythmic.

The breeze now lightly dances across my skin in time with it even though I swear the air was dead still when I first stepped in here. I keep walking and the change becomes more noticeable. The temperature around me rises, the wind gets stronger and the cave is no longer quiet. I’m trying to figure out what this could mean when the soft light of the sinking sun shifts against the back wall of the cave and I find I can no longer move, my legs rooted to the ground. My heart all but stops beating.

The back wall, what I thought was a gaping hole when I first came in shines in the light as it shifts slightly, the sun playing off of it as small tremors travel through the floor below me. I’m frozen as I stare at the thing, realizing with a rising sense of horror that what I thought was pitch black is actually a dark blue.

Something that moves in time with the rhythmic noise traveling through the cave.

It’s not a hole.

It’s alive.

The entire back wall of the cave is breathing.

And for a moment I find that I can’t move as I take the thing in. Whatever it is, it’s huge, a massive sleeping beast, its shimmering blue body stretching on and on and on in every conceivable direction and in that moment I suddenly realize that maybe the sword isn’t the best idea. The creature’s breaths blow over and over and over me like a gale and my vision starts to swim. I can’t even tell what I’m looking at here. It’s gigantic. And in comparison I’m…

I’m…

I take a step back.

Then another.

I want to run, to breathe, to fight, to do anything but I feel like if I take my eyes off of whatever this thing is for even a second, I’m dead.

There is a beast on this island. A beast that may very well have killed my friend. And now I don’t know what to do. I’m not a fighter. I’m not anything but…Jax. This thing killed-

Crack.

My eyes snap downwards and I see what takes a moment too long to register as a crushed branch beneath my heels.

And then everything ends.

Rrrrrr?

A noise echoes through the cave. So loud I swear I can feel it in my bones and I can’t, I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t fight. I can’t I can’t I-

stumble once the ground starts to shake something awful.

As the massive wall of flesh in front of me starts to shift.

As something starts to separate from the mass and rises higher and higher and higher until it just brushes against the impossibly high ceiling.

As it opens its eyes and suddenly I realize I’m looking at a face.

I’m shaking now. Shaking as the thing cocks its weirdly bird-like head to the side as it takes me in.

As it sizes me up.

My vision swims as it makes another noise at me. So loud it rings in my ears and now the rest of the mass starts to rise and I think it’s getting up and its head starts to come down to see me better and it’s getting closer and I can’t stop shaking and I need to do something and the beast takes a step forward and I can’t fucking move and the resulting tremors knock me over and its head stops in front of me, eye so huge it takes up all of my vision, iris expanding like a black hole so it can see me better and I can see my reflection in its gaze and it makes a few more ear shattering caws and one of its talons draws nearer and nearer and it blinks and the rapid motion causes my head to spin and the ground shakes and shakes and shakes and

I feel something brush against my arm.

And just like that, everything stops.

My hand, raised, is slowly being coated in the blood that now trickles down the length of my blade.

My blade that is now in the air.

My blade that now lays embedded in the wall of what I can only assume is one of the creature’s fingers.

The massive eye blinks again and it’s audible in the quiet.

A few seconds passes in dead silence before it finally emits a new noise, long and low before slowly it withdraws its hand, blade still buried almost up to the hilt in it.

It watches me quietly.

Another monstrous caw, quieter.

And finally, after what feels like years of tense silence, the creature moves its head forward again before it opens what looks like a beak and moves behind me. Mind clouded by fear, I’m only vaguely aware of the odd sensation of my boots leaving the earth below. Of going limp in the open air. Of wind whipping at my face as the deep blue of the sea shines thousands of feet below. As we land with a jolt and after a moment I can feel the ground beneath me again. I stumble but for some reason I don’t fall.

I look up through a haze and see the beast watching me again, the last of the setting sun making it shine like a gemstone.

A moment passes in silence.

And then it’s gone.

-

I’m not a fighter.

I’m not a fighter but by God am I trying to be.

I’m back on the island, trying my best to avoid the beast as it lunges at me again. It’s not the ridiculously huge bird thing from before but all the same, I should probably avoid getting caught in its claws.

This time it’s some kind of lion, its wings flared and what looks like a scorpion tail lashing wildly as it skids to a stop and quickly rights itself, head low to the ground as it growls. The word ‘manticore’ sticks out to me as I stare at the thing and I hold up the shitty sword I threw together in two days, adrenaline and the ache from smithing making my hands shake and my breaths shallow as the thing narrows its eyes again, its pupils huge as it tracks my movement.

Once that bird thing dropped me off on the mainland, I knew I had to come back. I had too many questions. Why hadn’t the bird killed me? I woke it up and stabbed it in the hand and it just stared at me and carried me back to the mainland for my troubles. Did it always act like that or was I just lucky? And if it did, then what happened to Jax? What happened to the rescue team? If it didn’t kill Jax and all those other people then what did?

But now I’ve found myself another monster.

This thing fights back.

This thing is a man eater.

The manticore stays where it is for now, choosing to growl low in its throat as it watches me shakily take a step forward. I’d tried to attack this thing from behind when I first saw it but the blade was off balance and I missed, leading to…this. The blade tilts slightly as I take another slow step forward. Its tail lashes more and more as I approach. Another hiss from the beast as it crouches lower, readying itself. I feel my muscles coil in anticipation as I try to prepare for whatever it’s going to throw at me.

Its muscles tense, tail lashing wildly now.

Its eyes narrow as a small growl passes from between its snarling lips.

And then it launches itself at me and the sight alone makes me freeze up. Before I know it I’m on the ground, the wind partially knocked out of me as the beast rests one of its massive paws on my chest, pinning me down. It leans down and growls at me though its bared teeth.

I close my eyes, waiting for the pain but instead the beast just roars again, this time noticeably more distant. And once I finally bring myself to open my eyes, I see that the manticore isn’t even looking at me anymore, its gaze now fixed on the sky as it lets out another roar.

I almost start to wonder what it’s doing when a tremor shakes through the earth.

And then the sky is eclipsed by something massive.

I can feel my blood turn to fucking ice as I watch the sun dance across rows and rows of deep blue scales. The giant bird thing steps into view, its head and neck rising impossibly high over the treeline. It turns to watch me for a moment and I feel myself start to tremble under its gaze. But then it just turns to the manticore, releasing a few earth shaking caws and after a bit of back and forth between the two, caws and roars exchanged like they’re having a conversation, the manticore steps off of me and I immediately scramble away on my arms and legs before getting to my feet and holding my sword out defensively.

They both watch me in silence as my blade shakily points at each of them in kind but after a few seconds, they turn away to continue calling to each other and I get the distinct feeling that they’re trying to decide what to do with me.

I try looking for a way out of this while they’re distracted but with the bird and manticore so close by, I’m not sure what I can actually even do here. This is cemented by the fact that the moment I try to take a step away, both the manticore and the bird turn to me again, watching me as if making sure I’m not going to move any further before they go back to talking.

And it’s agonizing just standing here, the manticore not too far away and the shadow of the bird enough to cast the area in shadow. Each and every caw on the bird’s end shakes through my bones and soon I find myself trembling from the stress but finally, with a few short snorts the manticore turns and disappears into the dense treeline once more, leaving me alone with the bird.

I can feel the sword slip from my sweat coated fingers as the bird glances at me before a softer noise sounds, something like a chirp and I tense in response, almost feeling like it’s speaking to me directly now. I stay where I am, hands stupidly raised, grasping at nothing as something low and long comes from the massive thing’s throat and my breath hitches as I feel it shake the ground below me. It seems to be waiting for me to do something but I have no idea what it wants, my voice lost so I can’t even ask it.

There’s silence as we stare at each other before the bird utters a few more chirps, watching me for a moment longer before finally it ducks its head into the trees. I can feel myself freeze as I watch it approach but it just grabs my sword, slowly dragging it out of view before picking me up by the back of my shirt like it did before.

The ground disappears below me and I watch as the dense forest shrinks further and further until it looks more like large patches of grass on the ground. The scenery below passes in a blur as the bird’s massive talons take careful steps through the comparatively tiny forest and as I watch in horror, flinching every time one of its talons narrowly misses stepping on what must be a huge acre of trees, an equally terrifying realization soon hits me like a truck. If the massive, sprawling forest looks like that to this thing then…what do I look like?

The bird is on the beach in a few steps, its claws absolutely dwarfing the row boats I’d left stranded there and my heart dies a little at the sight. It easily steps into the raging currents before wind blasts all around me as its wings carry it into the sky.

The flight is brief and terrible and all the while I’m scared the thing will accidentally drop me but soon I can see the mainland come into view, the buildings at this perspective horrible before the bird lands on a secluded patch of land nearby and sets me down in the soft grass below. I keep my eyes fixed on the ground as it offers me an ear shattering chirp and I can feel its eyes on me for a long moment before, with a final tremor that knocks me off my feet and a few quiet squawks, the bird moves to leave.

And that’s when something snaps.

Despite the fear, my head swimming with what I just saw, I clench my teeth and force my eyes to look up at it. Because it was looking first. Because it felt important. And my heart just about stops beating when the bird pauses, turning its head slightly to meet my gaze. We stare at each other for a while, a low rumbling noise from the bird’s throat travelling across the landscape as it takes me in before it finally ducks its head down again, moving to gently nudge me in the stomach with its beak before pulling away. And something about the gesture, the way the bird is looking at me…

The bird turns to leave again after a moment and for a second I finally find my voice. “…wait!”

The bird starts, long neck bending to look at me over its shoulder and I find the weight of its gaze alone makes my voice die before I can say anything else. After a few moments of staring, the bird chirps a few times before it turns and launches itself into the sky once more, disappearing into the clouds in seconds.

-

Too many times now.

The next few weeks go by in a relative blur as trips to the island start to become more regular. There’s almost a routine to it now. Wake up. Go to the island. Find some creature. Try to attack it and instead start a fight. The bird thing shows up, my weapon of the day gets confiscated and I’m sent back to the mainland with a few monstrous caws for my effort. These last few days, I hadn’t even bothered to bring any proper weapons, choosing to grab whatever I could find collecting rust around the workshop before hopping on a boat and rowing over. Today it's a decorative trident I found rotting behind a pile of scrap metal. I can’t help but wonder how big the birds’ collection of tiny unusable weapons is getting.

And I know I’m in way over my head here, yesterday confusing a large snake thing by trying to fist fight it before being escorted home. I’m a blacksmith for God’s sake. But even then, I’m still alive. I think the beasts even know who I am now, choosing to roar or bark or make any noise they can whenever they see me so it attracts the attention of the bird and it carries me away again.

Once, I can chalk up to coincidence. I’ll even take two. Maybe they didn’t feel like killing that day or weren’t feeling particularly territorial or didn’t see me as a threat but now? This was getting ridiculous. It meant something. I’m not sure what yet but it did.

And the way the bird thing sometimes got once I was back on the mainland. Terrifying, yes but…just staring at me for long moments before it finally left, almost like it didn’t want to leave. And the way it nudged me that day, the way it looks at me, it seemed almost…I don’t know. Something about its eyes….

I put that thought in the back of my mind for now.

The boat fairer was being particularly difficult today, wanting to know what I was actually doing with all the boats she was renting to me since it couldn’t be that I’d come back from that wretched island so many times now. I just bit my tongue and paid the extra in ‘collateral’ as she put it before I was finally allowed on my way. The money wasn’t too much of an issue as it stood. I’d been saving up for a while now and the boats were dirt cheap. Though if this keeps happening, I’m going to have to try convincing the bird to carry the boats with me on my return trips.

The trip to the island is faster now that I know where I’m going. I jump off the boat once it hits the sand and walk up to the forest, picking another random direction before going in.

I’m only an hour in when I run into something this time. What looks like some kind of house sized dog with long horns sprouting out of its head and spikes running down its back sits quietly in a small clearing, looking like it’s just enjoying the sun. The manticore was doing something similar when I’d first encountered it and even then, it only started getting defensive after I’d taken the first swing. …I think I want to try something different this time. I watch the dog for a moment longer, look down at the rusty ornament in my hand, look back up at the horned dog’s teeth and then just walk into the clearing.

The dog’s ears prick up the moment I step inside and it raises its head to look at me, eyes unreadable. But besides regarding me in silence, it doesn’t do anything. Just like the bird thing. Just like the manticore probably would have. Just like all the other things here. I keep my pathetic weapon sheathed and take a step closer, watching as the dog’s head follows me silently.

There are a few teeth poking out of its mouth that look bigger than my head and my heartrate is steadily speeding up but I force myself to try and remain calm. I take another step closer and the beast only makes a small grunt of acknowledgement at the gesture, staring at me for a few moments longer before moving to lie down again, though careful to keep its eyes on me. It lets out a small huff as it rests its head on the ground and stares at me with what I can only imagine is disinterest as the sun beams down on it through the trees, its eyelids starting to droop in the relative peace.

I purse my lips. The dog isn’t a killer either.

I step out of the clearing and continue on, nerves still on edge from the experience. I just…I don’t understand. That’s yet another terrifying looking creatures down and none of them seem to have a taste for human flesh. Just how many are there on this island?

I find a gryphon lounging in a tree a bit later. I purse my lips as its sharp eyes meet mine, its ears on alert as it stares down at me.

“…have you ever killed anyone?”

The gryphon looks offended.

This is going nowhere. I’ve seen a few creature now but none of them attacked me on sight. Even the manticore, when it came across me again, let me off with a grunt. Why is everything on this island so damn non-hostile? Hell, why are there even mythical creatures here in the first place?

I come across a goddamn unicorn later in the day. And after watching it struggle to reach an apple hanging from a tree, I climb up there and get the apple down for it. A unicorn.

I feel like all this grief might be starting to get to me.

Still, eventually I find myself sitting on a piece of rotting wood overlooking the ocean, watching the turbulent waves tear apart a branch I threw in just seconds earlier. The sun starts to disappear below the ocean in the distance as the ache from walking starts to leave my legs.

And it’s almost…nice.

And then right on cue, the giant bird thing steps onto the beach, two of its huge talons landing on either end of the mass of land. My pulse shoots up at the resulting tremors but I stay where I am, squeezing my hands into fists to stop myself from shaking before I speak.

“Already time to go, huh?”

Nothing happens for a long moment before the ground starts to shake something awful. I don’t know what the bird is doing but I just brace myself and try to focus on the sunset. Its massive talons step into the surf before its legs seem to fold and with one final tremor that sends me skyward for a moment, the quakes die down and I swear I can just make out something hanging just outside my peripheral. There’s this heat radiating from behind and I force myself not to turn around, instead finally bringing myself to look up and see the underside of the bird’s head hanging high above me, looking out into the ocean as if it’s…watching the sunset too.

I feel my brows raise but don’t comment, turning back to the horizon and watching the sun sink beneath the waves with the giant bird thing. My heart is pounding horribly but at the same time…

…it’s kinda peaceful

Though it doesn’t last. Once the sun disappears and the sky turns a deep blue, the bird caws before it starts ducking down to pick me up. But before its beak can reach me, something occurs to me.

“Wait, wait.”

Surprisingly, the bird freezes, turning its head to the side to look at me again.

Wordlessly, I point to the literal pile of marooned rowboats on the shore.

-

I got my collateral money back.

-

…

Bad day today.

Waking up to a cold bed still somehow surprised me with the lack of another person. The boat fairer could see it on my face and didn’t even try to argue when I finally dragged myself to the docks to untie one of the boats and head on my way. I skipped breakfast, didn’t feel like eating right now. Less people were walking around town with the storm coming. The sky was grey as I sailed across the ocean, the waters more unwelcome than usual. And when I got to the island, even it seemed more lifeless. I…guess the creatures were all hiding from the storm too. I searched and searched half-heartedly for a few hours, didn’t even bring a weapon this time because what’s the point? I felt tired, more so than usual.

So now I’m here, sitting on an uprooted log I saw the big dog thing rip out of the ground a few days ago. I curl up as the winds start to pick up, biting back a small whimper as my throat starts to tighten.

Bad day.

Jax is gone. My best friend. My brain feels numb, draining me as rain starts to filter through the leaves overhead, as tears slowly start to slide down my cheeks. I move to hug my arms as the wind gets louder. What’s the point of all this? What’s the point of anything? Why did Jax have to die? Why couldn’t it have been me? How do I make the pain stop? How? Why can’t I…why can’t I…

A shiver runs through me as the wind picks up, slowly turning to a howl in the quiet.

A sob shakes my body as the rain gets heavier, the sound of water spilling through the leaves filling the air.

And now my head lifts in confusion as I finally realize something.

All around me, I can hear the rain falling, the sound of a torrent beating down on the greenery below.

But…I’m still dry.

Confused, I look up and have to bite back a yelp at the sight.

The sky, or rather what I thought was the sky shimmers slightly in the darkening light. Scales. The body of the massive bird thing standing over me, eclipsing the sky even as it maneuvers its long neck under its body to see me better. It offers me an earth shattering caw once one of its eyes finally meets mine and at the moment I’m too drained to even be properly scared.

“…hey,” I can barely manage to whisper but the bird cocks its head at me all the same. “You…” I take a moment to swipe at the tears on my face before I continue. “You caught me at a bad time but I guess you’re here to take me back? Time’s up already?”

The bird doesn’t respond to this at first. I don’t even know if it can understand me but a few moments later, it lowers its head to the tree line and I close my eyes, trying to brace myself for the still unfamiliar feeling of being lifted off the ground but

Something bumps lightly into my stomach instead.

I open my eyes, looking down to see the tip of its beak pressed to my middle.

It’s impossible to catch the thing’s eye from here but still I try my best. “What…what are you doing?”

The beak pushes against me again, this time followed by a small chirp.

I can feel my brows start to crease, trying to understand. The beast nudges me again and this time I turn around and take a few steps forward before stopping. I wait. And then I feel the same beak nudge my back.

Hmm.

I keep walking, completely dry as the storm rages all around us. The bird stays over me, the only indicator that it’s even there the occasional tremor it causes when it takes a step forward and soon I find myself staring at the entrance of the hollowed out mountain that is the bird’s cave once more. I turn to it, confused. “This is your home. I…don’t you want me to leave?”

The bird just stares at me for a second before leaning down and nudging me again.

I step into the cave and turn around to see the bird watching me. “Okay so…what now?”

The bird squawks at me a few more times before turning and setting off, towering ridiculously high over the trees as it looks around. I watch it for a few seconds before taking a seat. At least I’m dry now.

I take the time to try and clear my head but the bird returns in mere minutes, stepping up to the mouth of the cave and ducking down to nudge me again.

“Alright, alright, I’m going.”

About halfway through the cave, the bird stops pushing me, moving its head slightly to the left and dropping what looks like a huge pile of broken branches and logs on the ground next to me. I’m about to ask about it when the creature picks me up and drops me a good distance away. It looks me over for a moment before turning to the tree pile, ducking down so its head presses to the ground and opening its mouth. I’m thinking the bird is going to eat the sticks or something but soon the cave starts to shine with a slowly rising glow. There’s a hiss in the air and as the temperature noticeably starts to rise and I realize the source of light is coming from the giant bird’s mouth of all places, I don’t even have enough time to close my eyes before a huge jet of fire shoots from the bird’s mouth and engulfs the entire tower of branches in an instant.

And now I’m left staring at the giant column of flames it leaves behind, the light of the fire dancing erratically against the cave walls.

A dragon.

This thing is a fucking dragon.

I don’t know if I should run or if the movement will attract the things attention but too soon the dragon, the fucking dragon’s eyes are locked on me again. I flinch and feel my muscles start to tense but besides a small chirp and a few squawks, the dragon doesn’t do anything. It cocks its head at me and takes a step forward but I instinctively find myself taking a few steps back, holding up my arms slightly as if that could shield me from whatever this thing’s about to do. But after a few seconds of nothing but the sound of the roaring inferno nearby and the rain pouring outside, the dragon simply ducks its head slightly, uttering a low noise in the back of its throat before it simply moves to the back of the cave and curls up tightly, burying its head under its wings so I can’t see its face anymore.

And then…nothing.

I thought the dragon brought me here to cook me over the open flame but…

The storm rages on outside. I can see the wind ripping through the trees, leaves and other debris flying past in the howling winds

But I’m here. In a cave. With a fire.

A roof over my head.

Walls to shield me from the wind.

Warmth.

Am I a fucking idiot?

I turn to look at the dragon curled up in the back. It shielded me from the rain. Brought me to its home to stay warm and dry. And I…

“…hey.”

The dragon flinches and I winch in response. It raises a wing and peaks out slightly.

“I…” The words die in my throat as I realize I have no idea what to say. …but maybe there’s something I can do.

I start walking toward it.

The dragon unfolds more, revealing the green undersides of its wings for a moment while it moves its head. Then it just watches me in silence as I approach, head tilting and irises dilating as I draw closer. Once I finally reach it, it cocks its head slightly but otherwise remains still.

My voice dies for a second seeing it up this close but still I force it out. “I…can I see your hand?”

It blinks at me for a few seconds before complying, shifting to pull one of its legs out from under it before setting it down in front of me with an audible thud. My heart rate spikes for a moment but I suck a few breaths in and out before I continue on. Once I reach the dragon’s talons, I walk around until I find what I’m searching for, the gash still on one of the dragon’s fingers. The one I made with my own hands. The wound is still pink but already closed, probably due to the dragon’s size.

Still, I pull off my scarf, using the end of it to clean the debris out of the gash and once that’s done, I run a hand down the skin near the cut before forcing myself to look up into the dragon’s eyes.

“I’m…sorry about this.”

The dragon blinks at that, cawing before ducking down to rest its head on the floor near me. I stare at it for a long moment before I find myself turning to approach its head, moving until I’m finally close enough to place a shaky hand on the skin just under the dragon’s eye.

And then a low rumbling noise shakes through me.

I jump back and the noise slowly tapers off, the dragon opening its eye again to look at me.

…there’s something about that eye. I can’t see the rest of it right now but there’s almost…something familiar. …like…a small crease and a slight head tilt. …it’s confused. Confused about why I stopped touching it? I could have sworn it was growling at me. But…it had its eye closed, almost like it was…content.

Experimentally, I step forward and place a hand on the warm scales in front of me. Almost immediately, the rumbling noise starts up again. I take the hand off. The rumbling stops. I look up at its eye again. Confusion.

“I…,” I place a hand on its face and the rumbling starts up once more, this time accompanied by me stumbling backwards as it shifts to lean more of its weight against me. I find it hard to find the words as I marvel up at the thing. “I…I’m sorry, are you purring?”

And then the dragon raises its head slightly before lowering it to the ground.

Like a nod.

Like it’s fucking nodding at my question.

I take a step back and look it in the eye again, heart starting to race. “You can understand me?”

The dragon raises its head off the ground before nodding again.

“…say no.”

The dragon shakes its head.

It can understand me.

I take a step forward and slowly the dragon sets its head down once more, moving until its head bumps into me again. I rest a hand on it and it continues purring. “I…you know, you seem…kinda fond of me for something that’s been trying to kick me off the island for weeks now.”

The dragon offers something like a grunt of what must be acknowledgment before it goes back to purring.

“Is there…a reason for that?”

A pause.

Then the dragon squawks a few times before tilting its head to look at me almost…expectedly.

“…ah, right. Sorry about that. Maybe we should just stick to yes or no questions for now.”

A small nod.

Outside the storm rages.

“Uh…thanks for getting me out of the rain, by the way.”

Another short grunt.

“I guess we’ll be here for a while so…wait, are you going to carry me back after the storm?”

A nod.

“Asshole.”

The dragon leans in enough to make me fall over, moving to lightly rest its massive head on top of me, effectively pinning me to the floor. It then continues purring like nothing happened.

“HEY!”

The dragon only gives a short caw in response and I get the sense that the thing is jokingly mimicking my exclamation.

I frown.

“FINE, FINE I GET IT! YOU’RE NOT AN ASSHOLE.”

And just like that it relents, raising its stupid head off of me and using its beak to pull me to my feet. There’s something almost like…amusement glimmering in its eyes now as it stares down at me and soon I find a small smile worming its way onto my lips.

“…you’re worse.”

The dragon’s eyes widen at that, giving another squawk before it leans in to push the tip of its beak into me again and I laugh, reaching up to grab onto as much of it as I can.

And after a long moment, it makes a few quiet caws and chirps and I feel my smile start to fade. I just…I wish I could understand what it was trying to say.

Instead, I pull away and move to approach one of its eyes again. There’s something complex there now. It caws again, quietly, low and long and I move until both my hands rest on the skin under its eye. It leans in slightly.

“I’m sorry I…still can’t understand you but…”

But what?

It’s not like there’s anything I can do to start understanding what it was trying to tell me. This dragon cares about me. It was saying something, probably something important but I…

jump back when I suddenly find myself drenched.

I look around wildly for the source, some kind of leak in the ceiling but the sound of water splashing against the cave floor grabs my attention and I look to the source of the noise.

The dragon. It’s crying.

Tears large enough to fill a pool slowly stream down the dragon’s face as it watches me in silence.

“God, I’m so sorry.”

The dragon offers a high pitched whine in response and I purse my lips.

“…here, it’s not much but,” hesitantly, I hold my arms out to the dragon and after a moment it all but crashes into them.

We’re both like this for a while, the dragon leaning into me and whining, me doing my best to hold it while it does. It seems to calm down a little overtime, its breaths get longer and its whimpers slowly dying down into nothing. And then the sound of the rain, the dragon’s breaths and the fire fill the silence as we both stay there.

Eventually it lets out a yawn, pulling away from me and using its beak to bump into me again before it picks me up and sets me down on the vast surface of its arm. And once I sit down on the warm surface, the dragon rests its head next to me, leaning into me before it closes its eyes.

“You’re going to sleep now?”

A pause.

And then a slight nod.

“Goodnight then."

The dragon lets out a small squawk.

The fire crackles and the light dances along the walls of the cave almost hypnotically, the storm still raging on outside.

“…I’m guessing you’re still taking me back to the mainland tomorrow?”

A nod.

“Asshole,” I mutter, leaning into it as I try to get more comfortable.

The dragon snorts.

-

My arms strain against the oars as I can see the shape of the island starting to come into view again. And as the island starts becoming clearer as I start to get closer, I can feel the current start to pull me in and I put the paddle down with a small sigh, taking the small moment of peace to look out into the endless sea and collect my thoughts.

Every single time I come here, I’m proven over and over just how…non threatening the island is. The goddamn mythical creatures on the island refuse to attack me even when provoked. The manticore just pinned me down before calling for the dragon and other creatures followed a similar pattern, choosing to evade or incapacitate me until the dragon arrived. And now that I’ve stopped attacking them, they don’t even do that. Hell, the most terrifying thing on the island, the dragon itself, seems to actively like me. There’s literally not a dangerous thing on this island. But then what happened to Jax? What happened to the people on the boat with him and the rescue party? Even if every single other person attacked the beasts in such a way that…I don’t know, maybe they felt overwhelmed and had to kill them to survive, Jax would never. He wouldn’t hurt a fly and I doubt he could have provoked anything on the island enough to kill him. There has to be a killer somewhere on that island. There has to. Nothing else makes sense.

I take a deep breath of the salty sea air as I turn my head to look back at the island growing in the distance but the breath catches in my throat at the sight I’m met with instead.

The dragon.

Lying across the entire stretch of the beach, it’s head raising to watch me as I approach.

…shit.

“Uh…hi?” I call out to it and the dragon caws in return, its tail swaying slightly in the ocean.

And then it just sits there

waiting

as the tides already start to pull me inevitably towards it.

…dick

“…can’t we talk about this?”

The dragon shakes its head.

I throw up a middle finger at the beast which only causes the thing to caw at me a few times before I just sit back with a huff.

It cocks its head slightly and, narrowing my eyes at it, I sigh and wait for the current to take me into its clutches. And while I wait, I take the time to finally get a proper look at the thing, anything to take my mind off the situation but it’s almost…strange. Now that I think about it, I can see all of it for once thanks to the distance. Iridescent dark blue scales catch the sunlight as it shifts in the sand. The undertones of green under its wings along with what seem to be eye spots. Two long, almost golden looking horns rest on its massive head. It has a long neck and four bird like talons tucked under its body, a long tail trailing into the sea near it. I can make out the black tip of its stark white beak and the grey of its eyes.

It’s beautiful.

Still, I can also make out the huge mountain a distance behind it, not much taller than the dragon even when it’s sitting down. I can see white dots that must be seagulls, absolutely minuscule compared to the thing. Talons longer than any palm tree on the beach. The wall of blue that stretches on and on forever when I finally bump into it.

And then any tension I feel vanishes when it starts purring again. This goes on for a few seconds before it finally moves its head into my field of vision. The noise continues as it leans close and bumps the tip of its beak against me before moving to grab the back of my shirt as always. I can’t help but sigh as I feel my feet leaving the small vessel. Terrifying or not, this is starting to get ridiculous.

The world shakes as the dragon stands up and spreads its wings, scooping the boat up before taking a few steps into the raging ocean and pulling us both into the sky. The sea soars past us as we move and I can’t help but marvel at the sight, no matter how many times I’ve seen it now. The wind whipping past me as my body sways in the open air, the white blur of seagulls that pass us, the sound of the ocean far below, all of it makes me feel…alive. More alive than I’ve been since Jax’s disappearance though the reminder still makes my throat start to tighten with tears. No matter what this dragon does, I can’t forget why I keep coming back. Closure. Revenge. Just…anything to make it more bearable. To feel like I did something for him.

I cough as the tears start to choke me up and the dragon utters a short low note in the back of its throat in response and if I didn’t know any better, I would say that it just asked me a question.

…ah, what the hell

I take a moment to clear my throat before I speak. “I’m okay.”

A sound comes from overhead this time, a loud muffled squawk, muffled I assume because it can’t open its beak at the moment. Still, a small smile makes its way onto my face as the mainland comes closer and closer to greet us.

The rest of the flight goes by in silence and soon the dragon touches down on the vast plain it always flies me to, ducking down to gently place me on the ground before straightening up and turning to leave like it always does. I watch as it plants its talons on the edge of the cliff and spreads its wings. It turns to glance at me like it always does before looking away again. It starts to crouch, preparing to launch itself back the way it came, just like always and-

“Wait.”

And the mountain sized dragon freezes.

I freeze too, the words leaving my mouth just as much a surprise to me that they are to it and I watch as the dragon slowly turns around, moving to stand over me once more. It lets out a small coo before cocking its head to the side.

My neck straining to even look it in the eyes like this, it takes a second for me to find my voice. “I…look, I’m not on the island anymore. Maybe we could…I don’t know, talk?”

The beast stares at me in silence for a moment before the ground starts to shake once more. I watch as the dragon moves to sit down in front of me, tucking its legs under it before turning its head to look at me expectantly.

I…don’t actually know what to do now.

The dragon cocks its head again, making a small noise as it waits.

As it waits

My mind starts to race as I think of what to say. What would a dragon even talk about? What would it…wait…oh God I just thought of something.

“Hey…”

The dragon makes a short grunt that tapers off at the end in return and for some reason I get the sense that I’m distinctively being made fun of. But that leads me to my next point.

It.

This dragon could understand me. It was clearly an intelligent creature but all the same…I didn’t really know how to go about asking this type of question. For all I know, maybe it liked being called it but…uh.

…how do I do this? Jax would have killed me if I didn’t ask eventually right? I look up at the towering dragon as the words try the form in my head. What are...would you prefer if…how should I…

The dragon eventually ducks down again, shifting its body and accidently knocking me over again as it gets more comfortable. It squawks at me and moves to pull me to my feet before resting its head on the ground next to me, a black slit pupil slowly expanding as it takes me in.

I watch it in silence for a moment, carefully considering my words before I continue. “So this might be a weird question and I’m sorry if it seems kinda sudden but I wanted to know…”

The giant sparkling blue dragon bird blinks at me and all at once I find the words die in my throat. “…wait do…do you even know what pronouns are?”

-

He/him

The dragon’s pronouns are he/him.

And for the record, though it’s kinda hard to read the face of a giant bird dragon, I think the question made him happy.

Though he still wouldn’t carry me back to the island when it was time for him to return so fuck him.

-

The dragon is already waiting for me on the beach the next day too, this time not even bothering to wait for the boat to reach the beach before he gets up and steps into the ocean. I watch as he makes his way over, the ocean getting deeper and deeper as he walks until the turbulent currents lap against his legs. The waves he creates with his movement pushes me back but all the same I soon find him standing over me, his body blocking out the sun. He ducks his head down so one of his eyes hangs slightly over the boat and the cursed tides pulling me forward make me bump into his face. I reach up with an annoyed huff and run a hand over his skin a few times before pulling away, leaning back so I can look into his eye.

“…are you just gonna keep doing this now? Not even gonna let me onto the island anymore?”

The dragon nods and I frown at him.

“What’s even your deal, man? Are you territorial? No filthy humans allowed on your island or something?”

The dragon shakes his head.

“Then?”

The dragon caws at me a few times and I sigh. This whole language barrier thing is starting to become a pain in the ass.

The dragon stares at me for a while longer before his head slowly sinks into the water, disappearing completely for a moment before startling me as it reappears on the other side of the boat. I just watch in silence as he does whatever the hell he’s doing and soon I get my answer. His body sinks into the surf, presumably as he lowers himself onto the seabed. His head and neck continue moving away from the boat before stopping a distance away, turning his neck around to look at me again before, with an explosion of noise and movement, the dragon starts to stand up once more, the way he positioned himself taking me and the boat with him into the air.

But finally he stops and I try to reorient myself, looking around at the huge mass of shimmering blue that stretches on and on like a fucked up version of the ocean. I look up at the dragon’s head before following the long length of his neck until it connects with the massive surface I find myself on.

…I’m on his back now.

The folds of his wings tower over me on either side and soon he bends his neck to bring his head close to me again, the tip of his beak moving to rest in my lap for a moment before he pulls away and turns his head so he can see me.

I can tell he’s waiting for some kind of reaction so I try to find the right words.

“…why?”

The bird’s head dips slightly and though he can’t really emote, I can see his eyes widen slightly in what has to be disbelief.

The answer’s apparently obvious so…

“…do you want to…walk me back to the mainland?”

He nods at that.

“…seems like kind of a waste honestly. Like, it’s just going to take longer and…”

I trail off as I think about it.

It’ll take longer for him to get back this way. He doesn’t seem to walk very fast since his size takes care of that problem. There’s something else about it too. I’m on his back instead of dangling from his beak. It’s weirdly…safe. …personal.

…close.

…and maybe that’s what he wants.

To spend more time with me. To hang out more. To carry me on his back to my destination.

I watch him for a long moment before slowly getting out of the boat and taking a seat on the warm scales below me. The dragon’s eye almost seems to soften at the gesture.

“I’ll just sit here then. You do what you have to do.”

The dragon just nods slightly at my words, staring at me for a second longer before his neck moves to face forward again and he eventually starts moving.

And despite the slower pace, the trip back to the mainland is still fairly quick, the time passing peacefully all the same. I try to enjoy it while I can, the warmth radiating off his massive scales and the way he shifts around me as he moves, the sound of the waves parting around him and the drumming of his heart beneath me. He turns to check on me every once in a while and I give him a small nod every time, the gesture rewarding me with a small purr before he continues. Too soon however, the cliff he usually lands on is in sight and I feel my heart start to sink a little.

The dragon stops once he reaches the cliffs and turns to me with a series of coos. I just nod back and he ducks down to pick me up, setting me down on the edge of the cliff before doing the same with my boat. That done, the dragon watches me for a long moment before he finally leans down and rests his head next to me. He blinks at me a few times and I just take a seat, sighing as I take him in.

“…what’s the matter with you, man? Kicking me out all the time and then acting like this. I just…don’t know what you want from me.”

The dragon answers this question fairly quickly, moving his head forward until it bumps into me.

“Typical.” I reach up and start stroking him in silence for a while as he purrs.

“…I’ll have you know I do have a reason for going back there everyday. …well, besides visiting you now, you big softie.” I can’t resist leaning forward and rubbing my check against him for a moment and he leans into the gesture. “…point is I’m just going to keep coming back until I find what I’m looking for. And if you’re going to keep blocking my way to the beach then I’ll just find another way to get on that island. …I’m sorry but I need to do this.”

The dragon is surprisingly quiet at that, the eye hanging above me staring at me in silence for a long moment before he finally cocks his head just slightly in question.

“I’m…looking for someone. And I’m not going to stop searching until I find him. Or at least…at least whatever’s left of him.”

The dragon watches me quietly and the rhythmic motion of my hands on warm scales helps me to keep going even as I feel my throat start to tighten with tears.

“I…ever since I found out there were actually mythical creatures on this island I thought…I don’t know what I thought to be honest. His disappearance…messed me up a lot, to say the least. I guess the rumours finally got to me and I thought…maybe something got him when he crashed on that island. Maybe I could kill it to avenge him. Or maybe he’s…maybe he’s still out there somewhere, you know?” I feel my voice shrink to a whisper as I say that last part. “I’m just hoping for…something, I guess. Any kind of sign that maybe…maybe…” the words trail off with a small sigh. “God, I just…I just miss him, you know? And I just wi- HEY!”

My words get cut off when the dragon suddenly moves again, leaning more of his weight than usual against me as he starts making a high pitched whining noise. “What’s gotten into you? …are you okay?”

The dragon continues whining for a few moments before finally giving a small shake of his head.

I frown, moving a hand to stroke the dragon’s head as he tries his best to accidentally bowl me over.

“Me neither.”

The words are barely a whisper but I feel a small nudge of acknowledgement just the same.

-

The dragon isn’t on the beach blocking my way this time so I guess that’s his way of saying I’m welcome. Though I don’t see him around either, even taking the time to check his cave and finding it completely empty besides the pile of weapons collecting rust in a corner.

And as I walk around the island, heart sinking slightly as the dragon continues to be a no show, I can’t help but start to lose myself in thought as the lush greenery blends together all around me.

It’s all so strange. The island is full of terrifying monsters but not a single one acts like a killer. What exactly am I missing here? The island has plenty of fruits and vegetables, animals to hunt, even a few lakes of drinking water so Jax and the others couldn’t possibly have died from lack of nutrition, even if they were trapped. …maybe there’s a chance that they’re still on the island. But if that were true then why hadn’t the dragon taken them back to the mainland too? And even if he had taken them and Jax just…I don’t know, finally decided he had enough of me and just pretended to be dead to get away then that still doesn’t explain why two whole boats of people just so happened to have the same idea. It just doesn’t make any sense.

So while all the other questions still bang around in the back of my mind, I make my way forward, any creatures I do come across just sharing a glance of acknowledgement before going back to doing what they were doing before. I’ve really only seen the forest so far but does it really span the whole island? Just how big is this place? I’ve been coming here for weeks now and still haven’t reached the end. And if the island really is this big and the creatures aren’t as hostile as they should be then…maybe he’s still alive around here somewhere.

As the sun reaches its peak and sweat causes my clothes to cling to me, I move to tiredly shove a stubborn branch out of the way with my shoulder and end up face first in what feels like grass when the branch gives way to nothing. I pick myself up with a huff and…

wow.

A huge field of grass, looking like it goes on for a while. My legs hurt but the sudden breeze that flows through the plain brings a small comfort. I take a deep breath of the salt tinged air and continue on until I reach a point I’m happy with and finally allow myself to lie down. The grass is soft and I take a moment to close my eyes and just enjoy the silence. I can faintly hear the sea again so this must be the other side of the island. The beach, the mountain, dense forest and then open plain. So either Jax is camped somewhere around here, climbed up a tree somewhere or fucking died like a year ago.

…God, why even bother. I know which one it is.

I move to sit up with a small sigh, wiping a few stray tears before opening my eyes again and looking around. It’s still just as empty as before but now…

Now I can see something in the far distance.

A mountain. A mountain that distinctively hadn’t been there before.

Well, at least that answers one question.

I take it in for a moment longer before leaning forward and cupping my hands over my mouth. “HEY!”

The mountain unsurprisingly doesn’t respond to this so I try a different approach.

“MOUNTAINS AREN’T FUCKING BLUE, ASSHOLE! GET OVER HERE!”

Said mountain remains still for a few seconds before finally untucking his head from beneath his wings and turning sideways to look at me. He caws and the sound carries effortlessly over the plain. Then he just stares until I beckon him again and he slowly stands up before making his way towards me. He reaches me in a few steps and stares down at me expectedly.

“…were you hiding from me?”

The dragon looks away.

I purse my lips.

“…was it because of what I said yesterday?”

A small nod.

I just sigh. “…well, I wasn’t lying or anything. I’ll need to keep coming back until I find my friend. …I’m really sorry but I have to keep trying. …but…even when I do…maybe I can keep coming back to visit you?”

The dragon stares off into the distance for a long moment before finally nodding again.

“…thanks. …do you want to join me?”

The dragon cocks his head.

“…as much as I want to find my friend, I…well…you’ve been kind to me…kicking me off the island non withstanding but…well, I think I just want to check on you today. You seem sadder than usual.”

The dragon turns back to look at me then, watching me carefully for a second longer before he sits down, tucking his legs underneath his body and laying his head down next to me.

I lean back slightly, enjoying the silence and the warmth for a second before I finally speak again.

“…you okay?”

The dragon gives a small chirp that I take as a yes.

“…that’s good.”

I scoot backwards until my back presses into the dragon’s neck and he leans into the gesture.

We stay there for a while and in the spare time I let my mind wander to Jax for a while before I stop, instead turning to the wall of blue I’m leaning against.

“…are you sure you’re okay?”

The bird just caws and with a sigh, I eventually get up, taking a few steps back so I can look him in one of his eyes. The dragon just turns his gaze to look down at me in question.

“…look, I know we have conflicting goals but we’ve known each other for almost a month now and during that time, you’ve been like…ridiculously kind to me, all things considered. And yesterday I upset you and you hid from me. I just…I want to sort this out, you know? I’ve mentioned my friend twice now and both times you became genuinely upset by it. I just want to know…”

The slight tilt of his head and the way he looks away stops me.

“…if mentioning him upsets you that much then…I’ll give it a rest for today. How’s that sound?”

The dragon looks at me again, eyes slightly wide in shock.

“Of course, I care about him but…I care about you too, you know? We could always sort this out some other time.”

And the dragon nods.

-

We didn’t talk about it in the end.

Every time I tried to bring it up, the dragon would get so visibly upset that I would eventually just give up and drop it again. One time he got so upset that he ran away. Another time he became a sobbing mess.

Something about all this just didn’t add up.

And it all pointed to the dragon.

The dragon who could understand me. The dragon who followed me around while the other creatures tended to do their own thing. The dragon who seemed very fond of me but wanted me to stay off the island even though there didn’t seem to be any threats there besides the occasional storm. The dragon who carried me back home every night but didn’t seem to extend the courtesy to the others who crashed here. The dragon who became extremely upset anytime I tried to mention humans being on this island. Who didn’t answer my questions even though he had to know something. Who towered over everything and must have seen what happened that day. I’ve climbed onto his head a few times to get a better lay of the land and there’s no way he didn’t see either of the boats or the dozen or so humans exploring the woods and travelling across the plains. He can see everything.

So what about all this made him so upset?

A possibility wormed its way into my head then. An ugly one but one I couldn’t really afford to write off. Not yet.

The dragon currently lies nearby, basking in the sun as I tried to recall the shape of the forest from what I saw from his point of view. I’m trying to make a map and he’s trying to take a nap. And it’s almost endearing seeing him like this, his eyes closed in contentment as he fans out his wings to absorb as much of the sunlight as he can.

And then I jump a little when he shifts slightly, turning to look at me for a long moment before he goes back to trying to sleep. I can just barely hold his gaze.

There’s a knife strapped to my belt today, hidden under my shirt so the dragon can’t see it. And soon, it will have its use.

I jump when a caw echoes over the plains, turning to see the dragon watching me again. I now find his gaze almost unnerving but still I hold it with a thin smile. The beast caws again, cocking his head slightly at me. A question.

…did he notice the blade?

A sudden breeze sweeps over the hills and causes me to shiver. And that’s when I realize I’m drenched in sweat. The dragon calls to me again, its eyes skewed with what I swear might be…concern. I find for once I can’t answer the question, the words stolen from me by the fear of what I’m about to do and the breeze again. I shiver harder and the beast gets up.

I’m scared now. But the dragon only moves to lie down next to me, shielding me from the wind and trying to warm me with his body heat.

….his neck now mere meters from my belt.

I swallow. He’s sweet. He’s been so nice to me and yet I…

I…

“…hey.”

The beast caws back and my heart pangs. But if my hunch is right then

…this thing killed Jax.

Nothing makes sense anymore but this dragon makes even less so. Nothing about him adds up. Why does he carry me back to the mainland everyday? Why me but not all the others that have been here? Why does he get so upset when I mention them? Why does he care about me so much? It had to mean something. It had to. What if he did kill them? In a fit of rage or hunger or territorial aggression. Or maybe just on accident, his huge size accidentally leading to the death of dozens. What if he felt bad about it and wanted to make amends by not making the same mistake twice? What if he saw me, the only human he’s seen in over a year, as nothing more than a second chance. What if, what if, what if

I get up slowly and step forward, moving to unsheathe the knife from my belt as I do.

The dragon caws again, probably still waiting for my question but I ignore him for now.

If this thing killed Jax then he will die. And then maybe I’ll die too.

The dragon tries to call out again but this time, when I try to take another step towards the thing’s throat, he does something different.

The shimmering blue wall in front of me shifts

And his eyes land on me mid-step.

And now he goes silent.

And I don’t know what to say. There’s too many emotions at once now, the rage, the sorrow, the grief, everything all at once, everything screaming inside me as I look at what I’m doing. I’m hurting a murderer. I’m hurting an innocent creature.

I’m hurting a friend.

I expect the dragon to do something, anything at all but he doesn’t. The blade shakes in my hand but still the dragon doesn’t move. He could flee, kill me, but instead he just waits. For retribution, out of fear.

To see what I’m going to do.

And I…don’t know what to do.

And so, as the seconds stretch on and still I remain frozen, the dragon finally decides to make a move. But not the one I was expecting.

The dragon, the huge, terrifying, friendly bird dragon simply lies back down without a word, leaning in until his neck is pressed to the blade.

And all at once I move, jolting my hand back and all but throwing the knife away before turning back to the massive wall of flesh in front of me. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

The dragon doesn’t respond to the question, only letting out a surprised squawk when I all but hurl myself at him, throwing my arms over the wall of his neck as tears start to pool in my eyes. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH…oh my God, are you hurt? I-I can’t…I…WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?”

I can feel sobs wracking through my body as I press my face into him. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I-”

I can feel the dragon pushing against me slightly now and I only hug him tighter. “Why are you doing this? Why are you doing any of this? I just…I don’t understand. I…I…”

The dragon starts purring quietly and it only causes me to cry harder. “Why do you care so much about me? Don’t you value your own life? Why don’t you fight back? I…why…why are you…”

Something occurs to me then. Retribution. Maybe what he wanted was retribution?

“I…,” I take some time to try calming down before I continue. “…hey.”

The dragon gives a quiet chirp between purrs.

“You…you’ve been here for some time right?”

I can feel him nod now.

“So much about you just…doesn’t make sense to me and I know…I know this topic upsets you for whatever reason but for now, I…could I ask you something?”

A pause.

Then a small nod.

“Did…did you kill my friend?”

The dragon shakes his head.

“Has anyone here killed my friend?”

Again, the dragon shakes his head.

I swallow before I ask the last one.

“Is he still alive?”

And now he gives a slight nod.

And I take his word.

I stay with my arms spread over as much of his neck as I can while he keeps purring, eventually moving so he can lean his head against me like he always does, chirping and whining and squawking until I finally calm down. And then we just stay like that for a long time. At sunset, he finally moves again, picking me up by the back of my shirt as always, pulling me off the ground and turning to go back to the beach. But once he crosses the forest, he keeps going forward instead, ducking through the opening to his cave and carrying me to the back before he finally sits down. He moves to tuck his legs beneath him before setting me down on his back and pushing his face into me once more.

“You’re not going to make me leave tonight?”

The dragon shakes his head.

I move to lean my weight against him. “…are you sure? …after everything I just-”

The dragon nudges me slightly, cawing a few times before settling down against me again.

“I just…don’t understand you at all. If it’s not out of guilt then…why? Why are you being so nice to me?”

The dragon just caws a few more times and I sigh. There is a reason he’s doing this, one not tied to guilt and he’s even told me a few times. But I can’t understand what he’s saying. There has to be a way around this somehow. This dragon can understand me. He, along with everything on the island, they’re all weirdly…human. There has to be something I can do.

But for now, I’m drained and, for once, actually tired. I lean into him and close my eyes. “We’ll figure this out somehow.”

The dragon caws.

“I…thank you for trusting me but please take better care of yourself, alright?”

The bird doesn’t respond to this besides leaning more of his weight into me but the words almost make me smile. I used to say them to Jax all the time before he...disappeared, I guess.

This dragon…reminds me a lot of him, as weird as that sounds. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say…

…ah, that’s just the grief talking.

…

-

I stare down at the crude map I'd drawn as my head bobs down once more, followed by another round of rumbling purrs.

"You having fun back there?"

This inquiry is met with a quiet squawk before a heavier weight rubs against my scalp, the purring quickly picking up once more.

Recently, the dragon has taken a liking to eating or grooming or playing with my hair. I'm not really sure to be honest but it's not hurting anyone and he seems to enjoy so I just let him.

He’s been…happier lately. Ever since I’d almost fucking killed him. It’s hard to tell but there were always the subtle signs along with the…not so subtle ones. His purring for one. And I can hear the sound of his tail dragging across the grass in the distance.

He’s been hanging around me far more often too, waiting for me at the beach now and following me wherever I went. It was…nice having him around. Comfortable.

Familiar.

I purse my lips, scratching out the rough shape of the valley we’re in, the bird’s purring making it damn near impossible to draw a straight line but still I persist. It’s not the only thing causing my head to rattle though.

This beast has grey eyes. The same physique, the same reactions, the same everything as Jax but…

I stare at my map for a long, long moment before I finally speak.

“Hey.”

The dragon grunts in acknowledgement.

“…can I ask you a…kinda weird question?”

A small nod.

“Are you…”

And the question dies in my throat but all the same the dragon waits.

The dragon told me Jax was still alive. The dragon was trying to tell me a lot of things.

“I…I never asked you for your name.” I was avoiding the question now. “I’m Emelia but you can call me Mia if you want.”

And the dragon nods, a small squawk ringing out like he’s trying to say my name.

After a moment of silence, I think of something, hesitantly flipping my map over and writing my name on the back of it before moving to stand up. The dragon gets the message and moves his beak off my head, turning to me in question. I hold out the paper to him and point at the name.

“Mia,” I say again and the dragon nods slightly.

There’s the island…it traps people with strong currents and it’s filled with strange monsters. Strange passive monsters. There’s Jax, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, who’s apparently still alive, but who the dragon never carried back to the mainland. There’s the dragon, who seems to care about me a lot despite only knowing me a little more than a month. The dragon who carries me back to the mainland every night regardless of that fondness. The dragon who knows where Jax is, who seems to get hurt whenever I mention him.

“…do you have a name?”

The dragon nods, his eyes shining now and my heart pangs. He stares at me for a moment too long before he moves to pick me up, standing up and stepping through the forest before arriving at the beach. I almost think he’s sick of the questions but then he raises a talon and starts dragging a claw through the sand. It takes me a second to realize what he’s doing but I can feel my heart slowly start to pick up with anticipation.

He's writing.

And the letters are messy but

J

I watch in silence.

A

I try to smother my hope but my heart pounds.

X.

Jax.

Jax.

The name now carved into the beach as I watch the dragon slowly withdraws his talon.

Waiting for my reaction.

Jax.

It’s hard to see the name through tears now but still I stare at it.

“…like…like my Jax?”

The dragon who looks like Jax, who acts like Jax, who is Jax, ducks his head slightly like he always does when he’s embarrassed and I feel a sob shake through me.

“I…you…could you put me down?”

The drago- Jax does after a moment, turning his head to look at me once my feet touch the ground again.

I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to think of what to say as tears pour down my face and the literal dragon who is my long lost friend watches me. But then,

“…Jax.”

Jax squawks back and for once I think I know what he’s trying to say.

I hold out my arms to him and he leans his fucking giant bird beak into them, starting to whimper and lean into me as I cry. But once we both start to calm down and are just taking each other in in the relative silence, I find I can’t resist saying what I need to.

“…show business really changed you, huh.”

Jax pushes me over.

-

I wake with a start and immediately I can tell something’s off.

Jax is next me, sound asleep and leaning his head against me as huge gusts of wind shoot out of his nostrils. I look around the room, trying to find anything different when movement just behind me makes me jump. I’m on my feet in an instant and looking around wildly but besides me and Jax, there doesn’t seem to be anyone else-

THERE

I spin around and there’s nothing.

I can feel the tension rise in my shoulders as I look around wildly and

Movement out of the corner of my eye

I spin around and this time something brushes against my legs and making me jump before the feeling disappears.

I’m starting to get annoyed now and this time there’s this weird movement coming from my lower back. Without spinning again, I slowly reach around until my hands land on something furry and I pull back with a yelp.

The sound echoes faintly through the cave and slowly Jax starts to stir.

He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on me.

And then they widen.

Before I can even ask, Jax grabs me by the back of my shirt, pulling me into the air before he starts walking forward. He stops just outside his cave, his talons inches from the treeline before he lets out a caw from between his closed beak.

A caw that…sounds a lot like a voice.

Jax’s voice.

“Hey! Is anyone awake right now? I need help!” The words are muffled like he’s speaking through clenched teeth.

Because he fucking is.

“Would you quiet down, son? It’s way too early for this.”

Another voice now, this one sounding like a grumpy old man. I watch as miles below us, the manticore emerges from between the trees, clearly disgruntled as he stops at Jax’s feet to glare up at him. His eyes fix on me for a few seconds before he lets out a tired sigh. “Not you again.”

Jax just nods slightly, the actions leaving me swaying before he realizes and ducks to set me down in the dirt. “Mia has a tail! She’s already changing and I don’t know what to do! I-Is there any way to fix this? Will it disappear if I take her back to the mainland? Will it stop? Is it reversable? Can I-”

“Calm down, son. She’s likely just as scared as you are and panicking isn’t going to solve anything. I…look, have you even asked her how she’s feeling right now?”

“But…Mia can’t understand me.”

“Does that look like the face of someone who doesn’t understand?”

Jax stops at that, slowly looking down to meet my gaze again. He ducks his head down to get a better look at me. “Mia?”

I’m still too shocked to speak, all the new information still banging around in my head as I stare at him. I can understand Jax. I attacked an old man unprovoked. I have a fucking tail. I-

“Mia?” I feel Jax’s beak nudge me and instinctively lay a hand on the smooth surface. Jax cocks his head slightly before something occurs to him. “…blink twice if you can understand me.”

I blink twice and the man hums.

Jax’s dragon form designed and drawn by @saltycharacters

Mia’s final form drawn by @crazkawsay

original design by noahdopt on Deviantart

[scattered-irises]

Tale XIV: The Merchant’s Daughter and the Misled Merman (Kotori and Shark)

It’s here! It’s finally here! Illustrations for this chapter here

I'll be releasing a happy ending, multi-chaptered version on its own sometime in the future. Stay tuned, sharkbait fans!

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 24K (Good luck :’)

Characters: Ryoga, Durbe, Rio, Yuma, Kotori, Vector

Relationships: One-sided Tomoshipping (Durbe/Ryoga), Skyshipping (Yuma/Kotori), Sharkbaitshipping (Yuma/Ryoga)

Warnings: Murder, gore, angst, Hans Christen Anderson version of The Little Mermaid despite me listening to the Little Mermaid musical soundtrack while writing this

Summary: In exchange for his eternal life and voice, a merman gains human legs. Up above, he finds that the human world is filled with deception and gentle lies.

Once upon a time, there was a young merman who lived beneath the ocean. The merfolk were long-lived people, their lives carefree and rich. Pearls adorned their tails and they danced beneath the stars every night. They sang and frolicked beneath the waves, ignorant of the lives of the humans above. Each one possessed their own unique melody, creating a chorus said to raise moons and sink ships. 

As I strum my harp, my eyes glance at the distant shores, glimmering with seafoam. Every night I come to this lagoon in search of my love. For a human prince, he traded away his eternal life beneath the waves. What folly, what foolishness, to have fallen in love with a human. Yet I had loved him so and recited the forbidden spell to help him. 

  I have lived for millenia, collecting tomes upon tomes of my people’s history and magics. There have been none to resurrect seafoam back into flesh. Yet I continue to seek that elusive spell, traveling to the blackest of trenches and the hottest of underwater vents. 

  The sea has been so quiet without him. 

  The corals have been bleached in the places that we swam together. The sunken ships have been eaten away. Medaka, in all her beautiful talent, has quietly shut herself away in her cave. She only sings on stormy nights now, leading sailors to their watery graves. It feels as if we ageless merfolk have aged without him. He had always been there, tucked away in the back of our gatherings like a reassuring shadow. 

  Now all we have left are fruitless wishes. 

  If only, if only, if only…

  The shadows, waves and seagrass seem to endlessly whisper this phrase. 

  🎵

  Hansel runs despite the pain in his stomach. He runs past the candy house and through the woods, the shadowy man always a few paces behind him. The trees and shrubs mean nothing to him when his body is already on fire from the bulletwound. When the trees begin to thin out, he gulps. The sound of the ocean fills his ears. Bursting out of the trees, he is met by the edge of the world, dropping off into a blue abyss. 

  Above him is the cold wintry sky, deaf to his pleas. Seagulls flutter about, cawing and screeching. Below is the frigid ocean, waves mercilessly beating against the rocks. Behind him, he can hear the man with the rifle coming. Looking around, his blood turns to ice when he sees that there is nowhere else to run. 

  “There we are…!” calls Vector. “Now come here so I can—”

  He’ll see Gretel again someday. Hansel clutches his shirt and closes his eyes. Without another moment wasted, he leaps off the cliff. For a moment, it feels as if he’s flying, weightless and free. Just like a bird, he could flap his arms and fly away. And then he’s falling. Falling, falling, falling into the water, a lone drop in an endless pool. When he hits the water, pain blooms across every single part of his body. His world turns white as his bones break into thousands of pieces, his body scattering across the ocean like bits of seafoam. But then he opens his eyes. He’s still in one piece. 

  It feels as if he hit a cold brick wall. He lets out a choked cry, pain the only sensation in his body. His vision blurs as the frigid waters wrap around his neck. And then it swallows him into its depths, the coldness like thousands of needles piercing his skin. Darkness creeps into his vision. The last thing he sees is the shadowy figure from above walking away. 

  Amidst the pain, it feels as if something warm is erupting from his chest. He envisions himself in a golden hallway, standing in a long line of pale and wan individuals. The figures keep to themselves, their eyes focused on the floor. Hansel winces as he tries to wrap his hands around his arms, his skin cold to the touch. 

  “You, there! Next!” cries a cherub at the side of the room.

  Hansel pauses. A cherub? He hadn’t gone to church often but…he knew for a fact that cherubs weren’t real. He tries to peek behind the child in hopes of seeing that the wings were glued on, but there were too many people in the way for him to clearly see. 

  A man reluctantly plods to the front of the line. Hansel tries to peek above the others’ heads but cannot see anything beyond the man’s bun. When the time comes for him to speak to the man at the front of the line, he freezes upon seeing the man’s gentle face yet fiery eyes. A pair of white wings sprout from his back and he clutches a quill matching the feathers from his wings. An angel!? Hansel’s heart leaps to his chest. 

  On the angel’s desk, a thick book lays open. The angel gives Hansel a smile and then crosses something off of his book.

  He was dead? No, it couldn’t be…Just a few moments ago he had discovered the cannibal wizard’s stash with his sister Gretel…They were going to build a palace by the sea together and live happily ever after…

  “Hansel from the tale of Hansel and Gretel ,” declares the angel. He looks down at the book again and frowns. “Dispatched by Lord Diêm Vương’s order due to an undeserved happy ending. Sentenced to another attempt.” 

  “What…?” asks Hansel, looking around. 

  His head begins to hurt. The angel shakes his head, the frown remaining on his perfect lips. 

  “It’s been happening more recently with you fairytale characters. None of the afterlife networks are particularly happy about this, but the karmic departments raised the alarm so we must heed their call…,” murmurs the angel. 

  “Fairytale? Me? Karma? What?” sputters Hansel.

  Like the fantastical characters in books? But everything in their world had been perfectly normal. He and Gretel had grown up surrounded by rumors of wizards and witches. Running into the cannibal wizard had been something they had been warned about countless times. No one was trying to climb a monstrous beanstalk or turn fish bones into clothes. 

  The angel briefly shakes his head. 

  “It’s not something my department is particularly well-versed in, but I think it has something to do with the balance of good and bad…,” says the angel, tapping on the great ledger’s pages. “If you were assigned to an Eastern fairytale in the next life, you’d probably be able to talk to them.”

  “I don’t understand! I’m not a fairytale character! My sister and I…we were real!” protests Hansel. 

  The harsh winter. The pebbles. Their father murdering their mother…That couldn’t have been just been events written on a piece of paper…

  “You are real…just…in another way,” says the angel slowly. “Everything is predetermined for you and, at the end of that path, you’re supposed to remain there…eternally.”

  “Then why am I here?” utters Hansel, looking around at the golden hall and the light-filled windows.

  Had he been less bewildered and scared, the angel shrugging would have made Hansel laugh. 

  “It has something to do with karmic balance. Apparently, there’s a finite amount of happiness in this universe and remaining eternally blissful without meeting the proper requirements was disrupting this balance. So now, the karmic branches are sending out agents to resolve this issue.”

  The shadowy man? Was that someone who was working for the so-called karmic branches? Hansel stares at his hands, this newly gained knowledge feeling like a hundred boulders. 

  “I’m sorry, but it’s time,” says the angel, checking a large clock. “Good luck in your next life.”

  “I still don’t understand, I—”

  Hansel opens his eyes to find himself back in the frigid water, his limbs a mangled mess. A strangled cry erupts from his throat, white bubbles escaping from his mouth. Pain shoots up his limbs. His body begins to twist in on itself, broken limbs reforming into different shapes. He lets out a strangled scream as a burning sensation fills him from the inside. Scales erupt from his arms and webbed skin connects his fingers together. Flashes of white and black fill his vision as his body bends in on itself, his spine snapping and reforming. 

  An invisible thread pulls together his broken legs, attaching them together. The bones within elongate and Hansel screams as the skin on his legs erupts with iridescent scales. Slowly, the water around him brightens, clearing up to reveal a seabed full of brightly-colored grasses. The water he has breathed in has stopped choking his pained throat, instead escaping through the vents on the side of his neck. Bubbles surround him like a veil, the result of his limbs flailing about. 

  Screwing his eyes shut, he tries to recall the happier times at the cottage with Gretel, yet can find nothing. When he tries to recall his sister’s face, he’s met by a similar blankness. Running through his life, he’s horrified to find that he can’t remember anything, not even his name. A horrified shriek escapes from his throat, ringing in his ears with its unfamiliarity. 

  A distant voice fills his mind, gentle yet commanding.

  “The pain you have suffered has served as your repentance for your previous life. Now live on in this reincarnation without the burdens of the past.”

  Not knowing anything, not even his own name, he flails through the ocean. He only knows that he has a tail with freshly grown and painful scales. And somewhere, someone he loves is singing.

  🎵

  “We’re going to be late,” mutters Shark, knocking on Dusky’s wall. 

  His friend sighs and rests something heavy down. Shark crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. They were given eternity to live and this was how he spent it? Shuffling noises follow. Then the door opens with a thud . Always slightly disheveled, Dusky greets him with a tired smile. 

  Shark brushes a piece of gray hair away from Dusky’s bangs. 

  “Put that down,” he says, eyeing the book beneath Dusky’s arm. 

  “I can’t find a place for it,” he says. 

  Shark rolls his eyes and peers into his friend’s home. Towers upon towers of books line the walls, almost toppling over each other. 

  “Just put it anywhere that doesn’t have a complete stack,” he grumbles.

  “You don’t understand! There’s a system!” protests Dusky, swimming into his labyrinth of books. He motions to each pile, his tail swishing in irritation. “There’s the legends, myths from the northern sea—”

  “Forget about it!” groans Shark. 

  He swims into his friend’s house, snatches the book away and places it on the floor. Dusky stares at the book and then lets out a sigh. 

  “There’s going to be countless more full moons to witness. What makes this one so special?” he asks.

  “Medaka has a solo and she’ll kill me if I don’t come!” urges Shark. “Let’s go!”

  Dusky chuckles at the mention of Shark’s sister. 

  “She’ll have to kill me too, then,” says Dusky. “What is this, her hundredth performance?”

  Without gracing his friend with a response, Shark grabs Dusky’s arm and yanks him out of his home. Together, they entwine their hands as they swim past beds of coral and schools of fish. Above them, the setting sun shines like a distant lighthouse. Beneath the waves, the world was dyed in hues of pink and orange. Shark softly smiles to himself as he looks at his world. This was one of Medaka’s favorite times of the day. She had specifically chosen matching accessories for this sunset performance, her solo beginning the merfolk’s full moon gathering. As one of the most sought-after singers in the kingdom, her performance was bound to be crowded. 

  Shark runs his fingers through the kelp, the fronds tickling his skin. When they were guppies, he and Medaka had hidden from their lessons in these fronds. Dusky always had to go and find them, the devoted student he was. Shark looks up at the sky, where the clouds are beginning to look clearer. He exchanges a smile with Dusky as they near the surface, dozens of merfolk joining their ascent. 

  “Looks like we’re right on time!” exclaims Dusky as he surfaces. 

  “Thank Poseidon,” mutters Shark, clearing bits of seaweed from his hair. 

  They swim into the lagoon surrounded by iridescent rocks and fragrant plants. Already, there is a buzz of excitement in the air. With pearls and shells strewn throughout her long blue hair, Medaka basks in the center of the lagoon. Every morning his sister had carefully brushed out her hair, which she loved just as much as her voice. Upon seeing him, Medaka beams and waves, her fingers tipped with long conical shells. 

  “You came!” she says. 

  “Of course!” interjects Dusky before Shark could make a rude comment.

  Merfolk cluster around the edges of the lagoon, all attention focused on Medaka as she prepared. Hundreds of their kind were eagerly awaiting the full moon ceremony, opened by their beloved songstress. Medaka’s friends Catfish and Swordfish were behind her, tuning their instruments. Dusky waves to his sister Catfish and she waves back. Swordfish, meanwhile, was arguing with the drummer, Tarwhine. Pretty much everyone but they knew that the two were in love. 

  “I’ll stick you with my sword the moment you say another thing!” snaps Swordfish, her cheeks aflame. 

  “To summarize, you wouldn’t have a drummer after that,” mutters Tarwhine. 

  Dusky and Shark exchange tired glances. For such a pretty mermaid, Swordfish wasn’t particularly bright. She was always reaching for her sword, one way or another. Unlike the rest of the mermaids, Swordfish had recently cut her red hair short, much to everyone’s horror. To be honest though, Shark thought that it suited her. 

  Dusky looks behind to see that the sun was midway into the ocean. A hush falls over the lagoon as the stones begin to shimmer. Even Tarwhine and Swordfish silence their arguments, all attention drawn to Medaka. With each move the mermaid makes, her seashell bracelets jingle in time. She smiles as she meets the audience’s gaze, turning all around the lagoon. 

  “And so, let our songs and dances for tonight strengthen our bonds with one another. Let us perform our gifts for Poseidon, lengthening our many years in his realm and strengthening our power,” declares Medaka, her voice echoing across the lagoon. 

  She flicks her iridescent blue tail. The audience holds its breath. Shark crosses his arms and sighs. 

  Medaka begins with a high, crooning note. She is soon joined by Catfish’s shaking shells. Then Swordfish’s harp. Below Medaka, lights in jewel tones begin to glow, illuminating the lagoon with their rich colors. When Medaka’s note melts into a full-fledged song in the ancient Mermish language, fireflies fill the air with their golden lights. Gasps fill the air as the bugs flit about, their lights competing with that of the sunset’s. 

  Shark has heard his sister sing this song hundreds of times in their shared home. It was a ballad detailing the myth of Poseidon and the creation of the merfolk. When they were guppies, it was a song that they had all been taught at school. Full moon ceremonies always began with this song, the merfolk’s way of giving thanks to their god. Over the centuries, Medaka had perfected this song with her haunting voice, luring unwary sailors to death on moonless nights. 

  Really, it was getting old, no matter how many lights or special effects Medaka used. Scanning the crowd, Shark finds that he is in the minority. As always, the audience is enraptured with his sister’s performance. 

  Sensing his boredom, Dusky tugs at Shark’s arm. 

  “There’s rumors that a human prince is sailing in our waters tonight,” his friend whispers.

  Shark smirks at his friend. 

  “You should have told me sooner,” he replies.

  At the height of the ballad, detailing Poseidon’s fierce battle against his brother, the two dive into the waters and swim off. The sun was almost completely swallowed by the sea at this point, the waters now a twilight purple. Once out of the lagoon, they resurface, looking around for the ship. 

  Every once in a while, Shark and Dusky would swim near human ships to tease the sailors. They never fully revealed themselves, cackling whenever a bewildered sailor was called insane for claiming to have seen merfolk. Well, it was mostly Shark who cackled. Dusky usually snorted. The sailors they had seen were grizzled, gruff men, always barking orders and often too drunk to fully trust their own eyes. Whenever Shark was in a foul mood, he’d sing some overboard. 

  Dusky raises his nose into the air and frowns. 

  “It seems like there’ll be a storm tonight,” he murmurs. 

  Shark looks up at the cloudy sky. 

  “They chose the wrong night to sail,” he agrees. 

  Compared to merfolk, humans were so delicate. Their skin couldn’t withstand the cold of the sea nor could they swim for long. Whenever Shark sang someone overboard, he would watch in morbid interest as the human struggled and flailed against the crashing waves. Sometimes they would be saved by their fellow sailors. Sometimes they would drown, their dying cries heard only by the fish and Shark. It was terribly fascinating, watching the light fade from their eyes. He doesn’t do it as often anymore, what with his sister’s record of drownings. If they drowned too many sailors, the humans would get suspicious. 

  The two friends swim along the surface, looking for the telltale sails and dark silhouette of the ship. In the distance, the waves crashed against the shores of a human settlement. The humans’ buildings were dull and closely built, nothing like the merfolk’s spacious homes. In the night, they gave off a glow similar to fireflies.

  “There!” calls Dusky. 

  On the horizon, they see the outline of a massive galleon with billowing white sails. Upon coming closer, they can see human emblems imprinted on the sails. With a head covered in a helmet of gold and white with glowing red eyes, Shark couldn’t help but think of a pirates’ skull and crossbones. Perhaps this was what the skull had looked like when it was alive. 

  They swim towards the galleon, Shark’s heart beating wildly in his chest. It seems as if nothing this exciting has happened in the last few moons. Sure, the dances and full moon ceremonies were grand spectacles but…eventually, one was bound to grow bored. 

  “I’ll race you!” calls Shark as he dives into the water. 

  He feels Dusky swim after him, his kicks fast and strong. Despite all the time he spent cooped up reading books, Dusky remained a formidable swimmer. Shark smirks. Luckily, he was no guppy either. Picking up the pace, he swims towards the rapidly approaching shadow of the galleon. When he sees the barnacle-covered wood of the galleon’s hull, he reaches out towards it. 

  “I win!” he declares, his hand pressed firmly against the wood. 

  Dusky crosses his arms and smirks. 

  “Only because you had a head start.”

  Shark lets out a hmph . 

  “You’re only saying that because you hate losing,” he teases, surfacing. 

  “My prince!” yells a human voice. 

  “Not now!” replies a youthful voice, punctuated with a laugh.

  Shark slightly tilts his head. True, he has heard many humans laugh before. Yet the prince’s laugh…There was something about it. Something that the other humans didn’t possess. Shark frowns and then peers up at the deck. Immediately, he meets the red eyes of a young human man. The young man’s eyes widen and his mouth opens. In a panic, Shark dives into the water, dragging Dusky below with him. 

  “He saw me!” gasps Shark. 

  From above, the young man runs across the deck, wildly pointing down at the ocean. Shark watches as various men surround the young men, peering hopelessly into the dark waters. Doubt fills the men’s faces as time passes. The young man receives a few laughs. In response, the young man shakes his head in frustration. 

  “I saw him!” he shouts. 

  An elderly man puts a hand on the prince’s shoulder, shaking his head. Once again, the prince is left alone. With a frown, the prince leans over the deck and places his head in his hands. 

  “I know you’re out there!” he shouts. 

  Shark and Dusky exchange glances. Taking Dusky’s hand, Shark leads his friend to the other side of the ship. Lights fill the deck of the galleon. From above, human music begins to fill the air. It’s nothing like the merfolk’s ballads and operas. This music is lively, the instruments loud and powerful. Once again, Shark surfaces, his eyes enamored by the sight of the myriad of bright lights. Unlike Medaka’s, these lights were bright, almost to the point of blindness. How could the humans dance in this light?

  He can see their silhouettes lurch and totter about in their festivities. A small chuckle escapes from Dusky. Shark turns to him.

  “Look at them,” says his friend. “They live only a few rotations so they must celebrate everything.” 

  “Not much of a grand celebration either,” adds Shark. 

  Compared to the merfolk’s festivities, this was a mere picnic. Shark turns to the horizon and sees the darkening clouds in the distance, the moon’s silvery light obscured. He exchanges a worried glance with Dusky. This was to be a bad omen for the merfolk. He frowns, thinking of Medaka and the performers after her. If the storm broke during the ceremony, he would return home to a distraught sister. To begin a ceremony that was interrupted by a fierce storm would be terrible indeed. 

  Once again, the human prince reappears, leaning over the deck and peering through the lights. From a distance, Shark sees the prince’s red bangs and black hair, sticking out at irregular angles. His skin is tanned, evident that he was a seasoned explorer. Unlike most of the other sailors he had seen, the prince’s eyes were still filled with hope. 

  “You have a shell?” asks Shark. 

  “Why?” asks Dusky, following his friend’s gaze. 

  “Just asking.”

  Dusky reaches into his hair and pulls out a small clamshell. 

  “This okay?”

  Shark takes the shell and gazes down at it.

  “Sure,” he says.

  Before his hesitation can get the best of him, he aims the shell right at the prince’s forehead. Plunk. He dives down just as the shell hits its intended target. A cackle escapes from Shark, followed by a snort from Dusky. The young prince cries out, clutching his forehead in pain. When the prince pulls away, a drop of scarlet falls into the water.

  Immediately, Shark stiffens at the smell of human blood. Dusky’s smile fades.

  “You plan on drowning a human prince?” he asks. 

  A chill runs down Shark. 

  “No,” he utters. “Just a little warning to keep his eyes on shore and away from the ocean.” 

  He looks up at the human prince, who is now surrounded by worried men looking out at the sea. Dusky grabs Shark’s hand and starts to pull him into the depths of the ocean. 

  “Wait,” calls Shark. “Look.”

  He points to the sky that was now darkening. 

  “So?” asks Dusky. “Let the storm do its work.” 

  “I…”

  Medaka’s delighted smile fills Shark’s mind. It was a peculiar kind of smile, the one that was filled with her sharp teeth, slitted pupils and painted red lips. His sister only smiled like that after she had a successful drowning, her lips and nails painted red by the human’s blood. Did Shark look like that whenever he drowned someone? The coldness in his sister’s voice, the jewels she had collected from the men she drowned…

  In his youth, the struggles of the drowning humans had helped kill time. But after witnessing his sister tearing into a sailor’s innards and painting her lips with his blood, something had changed in Shark. He supposes it was seeing the human’s heart, so small and pink in Medaka’s hands. It languidly beat outside of the human until it slowly stopped. 

  Within that insignificant human life was a heart that beat just like his. If humans possessed hearts, what else did they have that merfolk did as well? The thought haunted him for moons. 

  He breaks away from Dusky’s grip and swims after the galleon. 

  “You go,” he forces out. “I’ll tell you what I witnessed.”

  Ships sinking were always major events for the merfolk. Due to the general debris, chaos and struggling involved with a sinking ship, it was rare for merfolk to involve themselves. It was only after everything had reached the ocean floor did the merfolk begin to pick through the humans and their belongings. 

  “Stay safe!” calls Dusky as he swims off. 

  “Don’t worry!” calls back Shark. 

  He swims close by the ship, listening to the sound of rain falling from the sky. A distant rumbling fills the air. Up above, the humans begin to rush along the deck, preparing the sails for a storm. Thunk thunk thunk. The humans’ shoes thump against the wood. Their shouts falling to the ocean in distorted blurbs. Light flashes from behind Shark, followed by a resounding boom . 

  He quickens his swimming as the ship is tossed by the wind. He surfaces, trying to find the red-haired prince. Nowhere. Shark swallows a lump in his throat, continuing to swim against the surface. The rain falls from the sky like bullets, the waves roaring in Shark’s ears. Truly, the storm had arrived. 

  The sailors’ shouts fill Shark’s ears along with the booming thunder. A wave crashes against the other side of the deck, the white froth of the wave seen from Shark’s side. He’s never been in the middle of a storm before, always strongly advised against the unnecessary risk. It would be like staring straight into Poseidon’s wrath. 

  Now, in the midst of the chaos, Shark understood why. In the past, as storms raged on, he had always found other things to do. The churning waves of the surface had nothing to do with him, after all. Then the wind howls in his ear, a keening, painful cry akin to a whale’s dirge. A flash of red fills the edge of his vision. The young prince and his hopeful eyes fill Shark’s mind. He was like a bright spark, filled with joy and curiosity. Already short-lived, Shark couldn’t allow the prince’s life to be taken by the ocean this soon. 

  For a moment, the entire world turns to white as a lightning bolt strikes the ship’s tallest mast. Shark’s insides shake with the following rumble. He forces himself to look back up at the mast. A creak fills the air. Just as a massive wave crashes onto the deck, the mast falls. Shark dives underneath as he hears the sickening crack, bits of debris hitting the surface of the ocean. 

  Fighting against the waves, he wishes Dusky was here. Tossed from wave to wave, Shark gasps as he spots the young prince’s bright red hair. A wave crashes against the prince. For a moment, he disappears. Then he reappears, gripping onto a long rope. His shouting is lost in the howling of the winds, indistinct shouts answering back. 

  “WATCH OUT!” shouts Shark as a dark, surging wave crashes onto the deck.

  For a moment, it feels as if the world has slowed. The prince is swallowed into the dark waters. Then he resurfaces, his body bobbing in the dark water like seafoam. And then the ocean once again pulls him into its depths. Shark’s cry is lost in a white light and loud crack. He briefly turns to the ship to find that a lightning bolt has hit the center. 

  Just as a monstrous wave raises itself over the ship, Shark dives into the water. He frantically searches for the prince, looking for his red hair in the darkness of the water. The wave crashes down just as he sees a hint of red among the debris. For a moment, Shark loses all sensation in his limbs as he feels himself being carried away. Then, he shakes his head and swims towards the prince, hair swaying like fronds of kelp. 

  Hooking his arms beneath the prince’s, Shark pulls him to the surface. The prince takes a pained gasp of air. In the flames of the dying ship, his skin looks pale and lifeless. Shark panickedly looks around for the closest shore. In the distance, he sees the dim lights of the human settlement. 

  With his limbs burning in effort, he swims towards the lights, the fierce currents fighting against him. 

  “Please…!” gasps Shark. “Spare this one and take the rest!” 

  He raises his head to the cloudy skies, begging for Poseidon to hear him amidst his wrath. 

  A wave splashes into his face. 

  Shark continues to swim, despite feeling as if his arms were about to be torn off from the weight of the prince. 

  “Take the rest but spare him, please!” cries Shark hoarsely. “Let him live out his life, as brief as it is!”

  The prince’s laugh feels like a distant memory now, youthful and full of life. He looks down at the prince, with his closed eyes. A wave splashes against them. Shark weakly raises the prince back to the surface. Above them, the wind howls. 

  Don’t look back, thinks Shark as he continues to swim towards the shore. 

  If he looks back and sees how little he has swum, it may just make his aching limbs drop the prince. Beneath him, the prince groans. The sound fills Shark with a mixture of disgust and tenderness. The noises humans made at times could be so distasteful. Yet, in spite of everything, they continued to fight on for their existence. As the lightning and thunder grows further and further, hope fills Shark’s chest. The shore’s lights shine brighter. 

  Taking a deep breath, he quickens his pace. 

  “Hang on,” he says. 

  The prince lets out another groan. Shark’s muscles scream out in protest as he swims through another crashing wave. 

  “Please,” prays Shark. “Let this one live.” 

  The wind lets out a howl. 

  “PLEASE! I won’t ever drown a human again!” vows Shark. 

  A large wave draws towards Shark and he braces himself. 

  “I vow on my eternal life!” cries Shark. 

  Just as the wave was about to crash over them, it dissipates a few paces before him, its spray splashing Shark’s skin. Shark stares at the still waters before him, his heart beating in his throat. The wind subsides and a distant rumble fills the air, as if Poseidon had conceded. A wave pushes Shark closer to the shore, running a chill down his spine. His decision surely must have been sealed in stone. 

  “Just a little further,” murmurs Shark as he holds the prince closer. 

  Like a firm hand, the waves continue to push Shark’s exhausted body towards the shore. The wind has turned warm. Distantly, he can hear the singing of crickets. Looking behind him, the galleon is no more, swallowed entirely by the sea. Shark gulps. When he reaches the sand, he collapses onto it with the prince. 

  He looks down at the young man, clearing away bits of hair from his face. 

  “Wake up,” urges Shark. “Wake up...” 

  He pats the prince’s cheek, surprised at its warmth. Surely, Poseidon had to keep his vow. A merman vowing on his eternal life was nothing to be made in jest. Shark grits his teeth. His hands travel down to the prince’s chest. Through the wet fabric, he can feel the distant thump thumping of the prince’s heart. Shark breathes a sigh of relief. 

  His hands travel to the center of the prince’s chest. If he could correctly recall some of the interesting human tidbits from Dusty’s studies…this was how water could be removed from a human’s lungs. He had laughed at his friend’s reenactment then. Now he wishes he had paid more attention. Pursing his lips, Shark begins to press against the prince’s chest. Up and down he moves until the prince coughs, a thin trail of water trickling from his mouth. Another cough follows. He continues until the prince’s breathing has evened out. 

  Falling onto the sand in exhaustion, Shark looks down at the prince’s peacefully resting features. Blunt nose. Lips that always seemed to be curved into a small smile. Shark closes his eyes, listening to the sound of the waves against the shore. The atmosphere has changed, from the muggy humidity of a storm to that of a warm summer night. Beside him, he can hear the prince’s steady breathing. 

  “Thank you,” murmurs Shark. “Thank you.” 

  Perhaps it would be worth it, trading in the prince’s life for the future lives he could have drowned. Besides, he was already quite close to abandoning the practice anyways. Shark rolls onto his back and looks up at the sky. The clouds have covered the moon, allowing only a very thin sliver of moonlight to illuminate the dark shore. 

  “Mmm,” sputters the prince. He lets out a weak cough.

  “Sshh,” says Shark. 

  “Who’re you?” whispers the prince. 

  He coughs a bit more and then opens his eyes. In the dark, he blindly reaches out for Shark. Awkwardly, Shark offers his face. 

  “Wow, you’re cold,” says the prince, chuckling weakly. 

  “I am?” asks Shark. 

  “Yeah. You want my coat? I know it’s wet but…It’s the least I can do.” 

  Shark eyes the sodden material and shakes his head. The prince’s hands fall away from his face. A part of Shark misses the warmth and life in those fingers. 

  “It’s alright. I’m always like this,” he replies. 

  The prince looks around, frowning. 

  “It’s so dark,” he grumbles. “How did you save me?” 

  “In the dying lights of the ship I saw you,” lies Shark. 

  “Is everyone else alright?”

  A pit forms at the bottom of Shark’s stomach. He purses his lips.

  “I…I could only save you,” he forces out. 

  The prince’s lips curve into a slight frown. The chasm in Shark’s stomach deepens. 

  “Sorry,” mumbles Shark. 

  “We were so far from shore. How did you do it?”

  Shark gazes down at the prince’s scarlet eyes, gazing blindly into the darkness of the night. He wonders what the prince could see of him. Briefly, his eyes travel to his tail, partially submerged in the ebb and flow of the waves. 

  “I prayed and I swam,” replies Shark after a few minutes. 

  “Who did you pray to?” asks the prince.

  “Poseidon. Who else?”

  “You worship the god of the sea?” 

  “My people always have,” says Shark. 

  “I see…Thanks for saving me. What’s your name?” asks the prince. 

  “It’s not important,” says Shark quickly. 

  The young prince chuckles, revealing flashes of white teeth. 

  “Is it an embarrassing name?”

  “N-no!”

  Frankly, Shark didn’t know what an embarrassing human name would be. All merfolk were blessed with beautiful names reflecting the vibrant world they dwelled in. But there was no point in letting a human know his name. 

  “Where are you from? What do you do?” asks the prince.

  His curiosity tickles the pit of Shark’s stomach for unknown reasons. He feels a small smile fill his lips. The young prince was just like a little guppy, always questioning everything that passed by his large eyes. 

  “I’m from…a land beyond the sea,” begins Shark. “My sister and I…we sing.” 

  “You have a sister? I do too!” exclaims the prince. “She’s really bossy.” 

  A chuckle escapes from Shark before he can stop himself. He scratches his head in embarrassment.

  “Mine too.” 

  He’s certain to receive an earful the moment he comes back home. 

  “I guess no matter where you go, sisters never change,” chuckles the prince. 

  “I guess not.” 

  In the silence that followed, Shark lies down beside the prince and looks up at the cloudy sky. Beside him, the young man lets out a tired sigh and then a yawn. 

  “What a way to end a birthday! First I see a face from beneath the ocean, then someone throws a rock at me and then my ship sinks!” 

  At the mention of the rock, Shark purses his lips and surreptitiously glances at the prince. 

  “Mmm, what a way indeed,” he agrees. “You think there actually was someone down there?” 

  The prince vigorously nods, heat filling his cheeks. 

  “I’m not crazy!” he protests. “It was a beautiful boy with blue eyes, long, purple hair and blue bangs!”

  Shark’s tail splashes at the waves during the prince’s description. His heart skips a beat. He rests a hand on his head and turns around, facing the prince. 

  “What would a face like that be doing in the water?” he asks, his voice wavering at the end. 

  The prince lets out another frustrated sigh and rests his head behind his folded arms. 

  “Don’t laugh,” he begins. 

  “I might,” says Shark with a smirk. 

  The prince pouts. Then he raises his nose to the sky. He beats his chest with conviction. 

  “I’m pretty sure that was a young merman, curious about my party!” 

  Shark’s smirk widens.

  “Merfolk aren’t real,” he teases. “Besides, merfolk have far better spectacles than anything a human could ever do.” 

  In a huff, the prince crosses his arms and looks away at Shark. 

  “My granny saw one,” he mutters. 

  “Granny?” muses Shark, the unfamiliar word odd in his mouth.

  “Yeah! The dowager! That’s my granny!” 

  “Er…I see,” replies Shark. 

  The prince lets out another yawn and then closes his eyes. 

  “She tells the most fun stories…,” he mumbles. 

  “Don’t you have to go back to…wherever you came from?” asks Shark. 

  He’s answered by a head shake. In the warm heat, the prince’s clothes and hair have already dried. With each motion he makes, his red bangs wildly fly about. 

  “I sometimes sleep under the stars. You can bring me back in the morning,” mumbles the prince. 

  Shark gazes at the young man, watching in fascination as his breathing slowed. For a human that was so short-lived, he sure was easygoing. Hesitantly, he rolls onto his back and imitates the prince’s pose. He closes his eyes and soon drifts off to sleep. 

  🎵

  “..ma…Yu…ma! Yuma!” 

  A distant voice stirs Shark from his sleep. Dim morning light washes over him and the prince, who was still sound asleep. In the distance, Shark sees a human girl running down the steps of the beach. Her dress billows in the wind, an attendant hurrying after her. His heart leaps in his throat. Amidst the low tide, the ocean is a few paces away. 

  “Yuma!” cries the young girl, her voice carried away by the wind. 

  Shark looks down at the prince. Yuma? Was that his name? He doesn’t know what to make of it. Looking out at the ocean, he quickly edges himself towards the water. If the humans caught him, surely they would kill him. He’s heard far too many stories about colorful fish being scooped into nets and put into small bowls of water. His hands push him towards the water, his tail uselessly sliding against the sand. 

  As if sensing his desire to return, a wave rushes towards Shark. Desperately, Shark pushes himself towards it, relishing in the familiar feel of the salty water. Like welcoming hands, the wave takes him and pulls him back into the water. He swims towards a nearby rock, watching as the girl arrives by the prince’s side.

  “Yuma! Wake up!” calls the girl. 

  Yuma snorts, rubs his eyes and then wakes up. He sits up in confusion, looking around at the shore. Then he turns to the girl, a huge smile on his face. 

  “Kotori!” he calls.

  The young woman falls to her knees and pulls Yuma close, much to the dismay of her attendant,

  “I heard the ship sank!” she gasps. “We were so worried…! I searched all night for you with father’s soldiers!” 

  Dismay fills Yuma’s face.

  “Right…,” he murmurs.

  Looking around, Yuma frowns in confusion.

  “Where is he…?” he mumbles. 

  Kotori raises an eyebrow. 

  “Where’s who?” she asks. “There was only you on the shore.” 

  Surreptitiously, her eyes turn towards the rock where Shark was hiding. A small smile fills her lips. 

  “There was a young man!” protests Yuma. “He was the one who saved me! Please, didn’t you see him?”

  He turns to the attendant, an elderly woman with thick spectacles. Slowly, the woman shakes her head. 

  “My grandmother is half-blind and even she saw that you were alone!” scoffs Kotori. She stands up, trying to pull Yuma up with her. “Come on! Everyone is worried sick about you!” 

  Yuma lets out a groan until Kotori pinches his ear. 

  “Alright, alright! I’m up!” yelps Yuma. “But we need to find the young man that saved me!”

  Kotori turns back to the rock where Shark was hiding. Shark’s heart skips a beat. The young woman smiles and mouths a thank you , before turning away. A chill runs down Shark’s spine and he dives back into the waters, hurrying home. 

  The waters are calm after the storm. Soon, he approaches schools of fish and the occasional merperson. It seems as if nothing had happened beneath the sea, the waters as peaceful as ever. On the seafloor, the seagrass peacefully sways. From below, the skies seemed as blue and distant as they have always been. 

  It’s only when he approaches his home that the mood becomes tense. The merfolk he passes by speak in hushed tones, their eyes warily aimed at his and Medaka’s home. Shark hurries towards the cavern of marble and shells. 

  “Medaka?” he calls. 

  A pale hand reaches out from the darkness, still tipped with red shells and a matching bracelet. Shark reaches for the hand, only to be roughly pulled in. He lets out a yelp as he sees Medaka’s swollen eyes and deep frown. 

  “Where were you?!” his sister gasps. “I thought the storm took you!” 

  “I…”

  Medaka shakes her head, the shells from last night jingling angrily in her hair. 

  “Never mind that…Do you hear what they’re saying about me?! It’s all my fault that there was a storm! I don’t understand why…It was a performance just like the other times…I…”

  His sister buries her face into his chest, her shoulders shaking with her sobs. Pearls bead in her eyes and languidly float to the floor of their cave. Shark watches with detached interest. It had been centuries since he had seen Medaka cry. Slowly, he moves to pat her back. 

  “It’s all my fault…it’s all my fault…,” repeats Medaka. 

  Shark holds her closer, looking out at the blue waters of their homeland. 

  “No it’s not…,” he murmurs. “You were doing all you could…”

  “But it wasn’t enough!” protests his sister. “I’ve displeased Poseidon…” 

  Shark purses his lips. Pearls continue to drip onto the floor, leaving behind small puffs of sand in their wake. His sister…always the one with the brightest voice and the most beautiful hair. Always the one to be surrounded by admirers, her laugh carrying across the waters like chimes. When something goes wrong, his sister always takes it to heart. 

  Surrounded by the white walls of their cavern, with bits of sunlight filtering in from the surface, his sister was still incredibly beautiful. The pearls in her eyes are the color of the sky, azure with a silvery sheen. There were suitors who would fight for his sister’s pearls, claiming her tears as a priceless treasure. A sigh escapes from Shark as he brushes back his sister’s hair. 

  “There was nothing wrong with your performance. Dusky and I could sense the approaching storm even before your performance,” reassures Shark. 

  Medaka sniffles. 

  “Really?” she asks.

  “Really,” confirms Shark. 

  Come to think of it, there truly was something in the wind, even before Dusky had pointed it out, hadn’t there? A slight abundance of humidity in the air…a wetter breeze…

  Medaka shakes her head and then pulls away from Shark. She wraps her hands around her arms, staring down at the small pile of pearls that had amassed at her tail. 

  “What did you see in that storm? What took you so long to come back?” his sister asks. 

  Memories of Yuma’s laughter and his bright smile fills Shark’s mind. He briefly shakes his head, bubbles floating about. 

  “A shipwreck,” he said. “A human prince’s shipwreck.”

  Medaka’s eyes fill with light, a small smile filling her sallow features. 

  “Show me! Maybe we can get there before everyone else does! Maybe there’s a crown for me!” she exclaims.

  His sister giggles, taking his arm and swimming away. As she pulls him out of the cavern, she wipes her eyes. A small laugh escapes from her throat, wavering at the end. 

  “Do I look okay? I do, right?” she asks, a hint of desperation in her voice.

  With a tired smile, Shark nods. 

  “I’ll show you to the general area but I won’t go with you,” says Shark. 

  Medaka tilts her head in curiosity. 

  “Why not? I thought you loved treasure hunting. I’m surprised you didn’t spend all night picking through the shipwreck!” exclaims his sister. 

  “I…”

  The screams of the lost sailors. The fires, the chaos, the merciless way Poseidon had pulled the ship into its depths, never to be seen by human eyes ever again. His vow, burning through his throat. Shark pulls his hand away from Medaka and forces a smile. 

  “Nah, I got enough things,” he says. “You go have your fun.” 

  He swims on, weaving through fields of seagrass and anemone beds. Often, he stops due to Medaka stopping for a conversation with a friend or two. Their conversation is light, yet he can hear the strain in his sister’s voice and the fragility of her smile. 

  “It must have been Dolphin’s opera,” says Swordfish. 

  “It must have been Orca’s harp. It was out of tune,” says another.

  Medaka takes all of these suggestions with a mere nod and tight lips. From the tightness of her shoulders, Shark knew that his sister had believed none of their reassurances. 

  “It’s coming up,” says Shark as he swims past a rock. 

  In the distance, he can see the dark outlines of the grand ship. His heart leaps to his chest. He points to the ship with one hand and then turns to his sister. Medaka follows his finger and beams. 

  “There,” he says, stopping. 

  “You sure you’re not coming?” she asks. 

  Shark shakes his head, swallowing the screams of the sailors. All of those hearts, lungs and warm skins…rendered to cold bits and pieces by the sea. He could smell hints of blood, even from here. 

  “Yeah. I have to talk to Dusky. He doesn’t know I’m back yet,” he says. 

  Medaka holds his gaze for a few moments. In the aqua water, her pink and turquoise tail shimmers with an otherworldly glow. She clears a bit of stray hair from her face. Her smile is genuine this time as she swims away. 

  “Thanks,” she says. “For looking out for me.”

  “It’s nothing,” mumbles Shark. 

  He crosses his arms. As long as he can remember, he’s been by Medaka’s side. They had been hatched from the same egg, viewed as a fascinating oddity by their mentors. It was said that they were born clutching each other’s hands. Since then, they haven’t left each other’s side for long. Even as Medaka found a circle of devoted friends, even as she captivated the hearts of the merfolk, Shark still remained by her side like a shadow. 

  Shark watches his sister swim away and then lets out a sigh of relief. Quickly, he makes his way towards Dusky’s house. The structure is seemingly a simple thing, made of tightly packed rocks and seaweed. Only those who have wandered inside it know of the deep caverns that tunneled beneath it. Shark’s only been in the anteroom, but he hears that within those caverns were stacks upon stacks of books from millenia ago, written in ancient mermish and even languages before that. Shark never knew where his friend obtained such heavy tomes, but the knowledge Dusky possessed was always useful in one situation or another. 

  “Dusky!” calls Shark when he arrives at Dusky’s home. 

  He knocks on a rock. 

  “Dusky!” 

  “Just a moment!” calls a distant voice moments later. 

  His friend must have been deep within the confines of a cavern. Shark lets himself into Dusky’s house and sits himself on a stack of books. Spare pages and books litter the floor, leading deep into the caverns. Shark sighs. How did Dusky get anything done in this mess? It never failed to amaze him to see Dusky actually LIVE in this mess. Shark clutches his arms in discomfort. He can’t even stand being here for even a few minutes. 

  Soon after, his friend swims up from the caverns and greets him with a relieved sigh. 

  “Where were you?” he asks. 

  “At the wreck,” answers Shark laconically.

  On the shore with the prince, his warm breath on his scales. Spending a night side by side on the shore, the waves rocking them to sleep. 

  Dusky sniffs. Then he grabs Shark’s arm and breathes in. His eyes narrow, pupils shrinking into slits.

  “You smell like dry sand.” 

  Shark stiffens and pulls his hand away from his friend. 

  “What did you do?” presses Dusky. 

  The conversations they had about sisters and mermaids. The quiet laughter Yuma had. How he had thought that Shark was human, just like he was. 

  “I saved the prince,” breathes Shark. 

  Dusky’s mouth opens, revealing rows of sharp teeth. 

  “You stole from Poseidon?” he utters.

  “No! I…I vowed that I would never harm a human again,” says Shark. “I vowed on my eternal life.”

  His friend’s mouth opens even wider.

  “But that is a right bestowed to all our people,” he begins. 

  Shark looks out the cracks of Dusky’s home. The water outside is calm and the sunlight is bright. Dusky balls his hand into a fist.

  “It’s no longer mine,” he murmurs. “Besides, I don’t really like doing that anymore either.” 

  Dusky’s tail irritatedly flicks at the floor, sending a pile of silt into the waters. 

  “What do you mean?!” he asks. 

  Shark runs his sharp teeth through the edges of his lips. He looks down at his hands, webbed with thin flaps of skin. Rarely does Dusky raise his voice.

  “They have hearts. Just like us. They have sisters. They can feel pain, sorrow, joy…” 

  Shark trails off when he sees Dusky’s dark glare. 

  “You traded your innate right for a single human,” snaps Dusky. “Who will only live to see a few rotations and then perish.” 

  “He deserved to live, just like us,” snarls Shark.

  Dusky’s eyes narrow. He grabs a stray tendril of Shark’s hair and pulls him closer, golden eyes blazing with fury. 

  “We don’t live, we’re eternal,” hisses Dusky, teeth bared. 

  Shark pushes Dusky away, baring his teeth in turn. 

  “You and the others might not care about them, but I do,” snaps Shark. 

  “Have worms eaten your brains?!” exclaims Dusky. “What, are you going to join them? Live among them like a shark among anchovies?!” 

  “And if I did?!” shouts Shark. 

  His voice seems to bounce against the stone walls, an endless echo traveling deep into the caverns. Dusky’s eyes widen and his mouth shuts. Shark stiffens. After a few moments, his friend’s shoulders loosens and he slumps. 

  “Do you even know what you’re saying?” utters Dusky. 

  Shark holds his friend’s gaze. A lump has formed in his throat. He clenches and unclenches his hands. When was the last time they had shouted at each other like this? He runs his eyes down Dusky’s furrowed brows and pressed lips. 

  “…forget it,” he mutters, swimming out of the house. 

  As he swims away, he can feel Dusky’s gaze burn into his back. A pang fills his chest. 

  “Shark!” calls Dusky.

  Shark ignores him, forcing himself to keep on swimming in the direction of his cavern. 

  “Shark!” repeats Dusky. 

  For some reason, the guilt in Shark’s chest wasn’t as deep as he had expected it to be after confessing how he had truly felt. 

  🎵

  “Shark?”

  “Shaaarkkk? Ocean to Shark!” calls Medaka, waving her tail in front of Shark’s face. 

  Shark startles, his tail kicking up clouds of sand. 

  “What?!” he snaps. 

  Medaka shrugs. 

  “You’ve been out of it for suns now. You sure you don’t have any worms in your brains?”

  Shark gives a small shake of his head. 

  “Of course not,” he grumbles. “I’ve just been…tired.”

  Medaka frowns and grabs Shark’s tail, running her eyes down the iridescent scales.

  “It’s not fin rot, is it?” she muses. “It’s infectious, you know. I can’t have that for my next performance.” 

  Much to Medaka’s joy and Shark’s relief, she had been chosen to perform for the merfolk’s next moon ceremony. Although it was the closing ceremony and thus more understated, Medaka still came to Shark with a bright smile and a delighted embrace. 

  His sister puts her hand on her hips, staring at Shark. He looks at Medaka with a glare. 

  “Don’t tell me…” muses Medaka. “Suns and suns of bumping into rocks…tripping over piles of sand…getting tangled up in seagrass…Not listening to most of my rants—well, you usually don’t listen much in the first place but now you’ve just made it very obvious…” 

  Medaka pauses, putting a hand on her cheek. Shark swallows a lump in his throat. No, it couldn’t be…He only thought of the prince every…

  Oh, sweet Triton’s conch…

  “You’re in love!” gasps his sister, beaming. 

  She grabs his wrists, spinning him around in their cavern. Bubbles swirl around them, Medaka’s rich laughter bouncing against the marble walls. Already, Shark can see curious merfolk peeking in through the cave’s opening. 

  “Wh-what?! No!” he snaps, trying to free himself from Medaka’s grip. “D-don’t make up assumptions like that!”

  Medaka grins and pulls her face closer to Shark’s, their noses touching. 

  “Who is it?” she whispers. 

  “N-no one!” protests Shark. 

  “My brother’s in LOVE!” shouts Medaka, her final word turning into a trill. 

  A few merfolk swooned at the perfect note while others began to focus their attention on Shark. Stiffening at the attention, Shark allows Medaka to pull him to the cave’s entrance. He was always used to adoring stares being focused on his sister while he could simply sink to the back of the crowd and slip away unnoticed. To have this many eyes on him at this moment made him feel as if he were a shrimp in the sights of a particularly hungry eel. 

  “I…I’m not in love!” protests Shark as he is pulled through the crowd of curious onlookers. “You’re just being ridiculous!” 

  “He’s been so absentminded! And, he’s been talking in his sleep! Have I mentioned the humming?” gushes Medaka. 

  “I haven’t been humming!” snaps Shark. 

  He frees his grip from Medaka and shoves his way through the merfolk, hissing at their giggles. 

  “Maybe you’re the one that has worms in her brains!” he shouts as he hurriedly swims off. 

  What Medaka had said was true though, as much as he hates to admit it. He’s been tripping over insignificant things and can’t really find himself to even pretend to listen to her at times. It feels like every waking moment since that stormy night has been filled with memories of Yuma. Fronds of red sea grass bring to mind the prince’s red hair. Tiny shells remind him of the wound that he had inflicted on the prince’s forehead. Even a youthful merman’s laugh had reminded him of Yuma, leaving him to swim away in a hurry after he had been caught staring at the merman. 

  He swallows a lump in his throat, swimming and swimming until he reaches Dusky’s house. After a few moments of hesitation, he knocks on the stone walls.

  “Dusky!” whispers Shark. 

  As always, silence greets him. 

  “Dusky!” whisper-shouts Shark. 

  Catfish’s eye peeks out from a hole in the stones. Shark startles.

  “Gah!”

  “Shark?” asks Catfish. 

  “Where’s your brother?” asks Shark. 

  “Out.”

  “Where?”

  “Looking for books.” 

  Shark rolls his eyes. 

  “Doesn’t he have enough of them?”

  Catfish laughs. A sharp finger of hers pokes through a hole, nearly jabbing Shark in the eye. 

  “He does that whenever he’s sad or mad.” 

  Their argument from a few suns ago fills Shark’s mind. He glares at Catfish’s fingers.

  “You don’t mean…”

  Catfish’s eyes narrow, a smile surely on her lips. 

  “I do. You made him sad.”

  Shark crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. 

  “Just let me in,” he grumbles. “Everyone thinks I’m in love with some merperson.”

  Catfish giggles. Had she and Medaka been talking about this? 

  “He should be coming home soon,” she says, moving to open the door.

  “Shark?” calls a familiar voice.

  Shark looks around to find Dusky swimming towards him, a stack of tattered tomes tucked under his arm.

“What are you doing here?” asks Dusky. 

  “I…I think we should talk,” admits Shark. 

  His friend’s expression sobers. Beckoning him inside, Dusky swims into his home and places his books on top of the nearest stack. Shark stares at the crowded room and sighs. Catfish giggles and swims out.

  “I’ll leave you two alone!” she calls. 

  After a few moments, Shark closes the door. He looks around the room, finding new piles of books. The rock that he had sat on from a few suns ago was now obscured by three different piles of books. 

  “You’re going to be buried in these things one day…,” he mutters. 

  Dusky follows Shark’s gaze and shrugs. 

  “There’s a system,” he replies laconically. “Now, what do you want?” 

  “I…”

  His friend crosses his arms. 

  Shark pauses, looking around at the small holes in the walls. 

  “Can we go somewhere private?” he asks, looking around. 

  Dusky nods and beckons Shark deeper into his home. After a moment of hesitation, Shark follows. The room narrows and sinks into the ground, leading into a cave lit by purple crystals. Shark slowly follows his friend, navigating his way through caverns upon caverns of books. They stop inside a relatively empty cavern. Dusky pushes a large boulder in the entrance, sealing them in darkness. In the darkness, Shark can make out a bed and a shelf filled with a sparse collection of books. 

  “I’ve never seen your room before, come to think of it,” he muses.

  Dusky shrugs.

  “Now you have.”

  He sits on the bed, a collection of kelp and seaweed blankets. From across the room, he looks at Shark with a solemn expression. Shark’s heart begins to beat faster, his mouth growing dry and his nails digging into his palms. Shark remains where he is, back to the cold boulder, staring at Dusky’s emotionless eyes and unmoving mouth. 

  “Do you know how to turn a merperson into a human?” asks Shark after a few moments of silence.

  Dusky remains unperturbed. He clasps his hands together. His voice is quiet as he speaks, eyes never moving from Shark. 

  “Perhaps I do. But why?” 

  “Because…I…”

  “Don’t tell me you’re still thinking of that prince.”

  Shark swallows the lump in his throat. He forces himself to look at his best friend, who has followed him through adventure after adventure. 

  “I want to see him again,” breathes Shark. “That's all I can think about these past few suns.” 

  He had felt alive in Yuma’s presence, a sensation he hasn’t felt in eons. The young man’s hope and boundless laughter felt like a warmth he had never experienced before. 

  “Think of what you’d be giving up,” says Dusky, rising to meet Shark. “Eternity for the life of a shrimp.” 

  “I could come back, couldn’t I?” utters Shark.

  Dusky’s eyes narrow. He bares a hint of his teeth. 

  “Not after you have forsaken Poseidon’s gift,” he growls. 

  It was a possibility Shark had recognized after all the time he had spent thinking about it. Yet to hear it voiced by his friend fills Shark’s stomach with a hefty weight. The cavern is filled with silence as Shark contemplates his choice. There could be no going back now, this dark desire now revealed to his best friend. 

  “Think about it,” says Dusky, taking on a more desperate tone. “You’ll never be able to swim in the ocean again or speak our people’s language.” 

  “I have ,” murmurs Shark. “It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” 

  His friend shakes his head and swims to Shark’s side. He places a hand on Shark’s shoulder. Their eyes meet and they gaze at each other in silence. Dusky softens his expression, letting out a small sigh. 

  “Just what is so special about this human?” he asks. 

  “He makes me feel alive,” replies Shark. “I haven’t felt like that in centuries.” 

  A flicker of hurt passes by Dusky’s expression. He pulls his hand away from Shark’s shoulder. Shark holds his breath. It felt as if time had stopped in this silent and dark cavern. 

  After a few moments, Dusky lets out a small sigh. 

  “I’ll give you until the next full moon to make your decision…,” he breathes. “Remember—there won’t be any going back after this. Not only will you have to trade in your eternal life, you’ll also have to give up your voice. Every step in a world that isn’t yours will be like stepping on glass.”

  Shark rests his hand on Dusky’s, holding his solemn gaze. 

  “I’ll think long and hard,” he promises. 

  Although, deep down, he already knows his answer. 

  🎵

  “You won’t be coming to see the opening?” asks Medaka as she slides a new golden comb into her hair.

  She had found it in the prince’s shipwreck, eliciting envious stares from all of the mermaids that she had passed. Shark gazes at his sister’s reflection in the mirror, smiling at her relaxed posture and blemish-free face. All was back to normal now, the memory of the stormy ceremony a distant moon away. He gently shakes his head, his tail languidly flapping back and forth.

  “Nah. I’ll be there for your performance though,” he says. 

  Medaka quirks a smile. 

  “You better be.” 

  Shark returns his sister’s grin, albeit halfheartedly. 

  “I know,” he says. 

  “Medaka!” calls Swordfish through the opening of the cave. 

  Medaka meets her friend’s gaze and smiles. She waves her hand and then slides a pearl bracelet around her wrist.

  “Coming!”

  Swimming past Shark, Shark quickly grabs her wrist. Medaka startles, looking at her brother with widened eyes. 

  “Tear a fin,” says Shark. 

  His sister breaks into a radiant smile. She pulls away from Shark, giving his shark tooth necklace a final tug. 

  “I don’t need it,” she says. 

  He watches her go with Swordfish, Catfish and Tarwhine, the group laughing and singing songs together. As always, Medaka had the brightest voice. Shark’s fingers trail to his necklace, wondering when would be the next time he could see Medaka again. Looking out at the waters, the world was dyed a bright orange as the sun began to set. After waiting a few more moments, Shark swims off towards Dusky’s home. 

  As he makes his way through the familiar routes, he drinks in the sights of the anemones, seagrass and corals that he passed. He wonders if the human world had anything as bright or as beautiful. Above him, a school of fish swim past, hundreds of voices filling the waters as the fish chirped, groaned and burbled in their indecipherable language. Distantly, he sees the outline of a great ray languidly flapping across the waters. 

  Shaking his head, he hurries on. 

  In the light of the setting sun, the sand on the seabed glimmered like small jewels. Crabs and lobsters scuttled about, paying Shark little attention. It was almost always like that, wasn’t it? He, the ignored sibling compared to Medaka’s radiance. For the first few days after Medaka’s announcement, he had been endlessly pestered by curious merfolk. Even Medaka’s most persistent admirer, Stonefish, had asked who the lucky merperson was. Shark had pushed them all away with his usual bluster, meanwhile trying to swallow the memories of the prince.

  For a merperson to fall in love with a human…It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so blasphemous. 

  He arrives at Dusky’s house far too soon. Slowly, he raises his fist to the stone walls. Looking up at the distant sky, he takes a deep breath. 

  Knock knock. 

  Unlike the eternity that it took for Dusky to usually respond, his friend immediately opens the door. With one look at him, Dusky’s shoulders slump. 

  “So?” he asks.

  “I’m ready,” says Shark. 

  For a moment, his friend’s brows furrow. 

  “Just a moment,” he says, swimming back into the house. 

  Shark once again turns to the skies, watching as the sun sets. Soon, he would be in a world where the sun’s rays would be all-encompassing. A strange land with solid earth and only small reserves of water. 

  “Alright. Let’s go to the rocks near the lagoon,” says Dusky, reappearing with a tattered tome and a dagger. 

  Warily, Shark eyes the dagger. Its handle is obsidian black, drinking in all of the light around it. The blade itself is curved like the movements of an eel. As Dusky swims, white flakes flutter from the old tome. Its cover is littered with holes and the pages beneath it are bleached white. 

  “We’ll do it when the moon is at its highest,” says Dusky. “It’s when Poseidon’s realm is drawn closest to Artemis’ emblem and his power is at its weakest.”

  “You’ve done this before?” he asks. 

  Dusky doesn’t look back at him as he replies.

  “Here and there. Small spells and whatnot. A love potion a few moons ago.” 

  Shark thinks back to Swordfish’s shorn locks. He raises a brow. 

  “Was that why Swordfish…”

  “Oh, no, that was to ensure her sword dealt a killing blow to anything that it touched,” replies Dusky nonchalantly. 

  “Are you kidding me?! Giving a loose piranha a weapon like that?!”

  It’s then that he sees the small smile on Dusky’s lips. Shark lets out a sigh of relief. 

  “So it was the love potion.” 

  “Mmmhm. Either she hasn’t used it yet or she didn’t fully read the instructions.” 

  The two exchange a small laugh. Shark briefly looks down at the colorful world that he was leaving. Quietly, he reaches out for Dusky’s free hand. Tightly, Dusky grasps it, pulling his lips into a thin line.

  “I’m only doing this for you because you’re my best friend,” breathes Dusky. 

  “I know,” utters Shark. 

  Dusky forces a smile, turning his face up towards the sky.

  “It’s been nice knowing you, old friend.”

  Shark squeezes his friend’s hand. 

  “Likewise.” 

  They reach the surface, Shark breathing in the warm, salty air with a mixture of excitement and pain. Dusky leads him towards an outcrop of rocks. Distantly, they could hear the opening ballad to the merfolk’s ceremony. Together they sit on the rocks, waiting for the sun to set and night to fall. Their hands overlap one another’s. 

  “Will you take me to the shore where I stayed with him?” asks Shark. “After…”

  Dusky nods. 

  “Where?”

  “By the shore with the red sun rocks,” he replies. “By the human village.”

  “Alright.”

  In silence, they look out at the final glimmers of the sun, swallowed into the ocean’s abyss. Behind them, the moon has started to ascend, its silvery light unblemished by any clouds. 

  “There’s the Ray,” says Dusky, pointing out a cluster of stars. 

  “I can see bits of the Kraken,” says Shark. 

  For a brief moment, their heads touch, their breaths syncopating. A lone seagull flies by, letting out a shrill caw. Shark closes his eyes, listening to the distant songs of the full moon ceremony. 

  “Will you listen to Medaka’s closing performance in my stead?” asks Shark. 

  “Of course, old friend,” says Dusky.

  Shark can imagine the hint of disappointment that would fill his sister’s face once she can’t find him among the crowd. A pang fills his chest. Surely, Medaka would be fine without him. She would have her friends to support her. Those silly, loving friends of hers…More silence fills the air. 

  Together, Dusky and Shark used to be able to talk for ages about everything and nothing at the same time. He doesn’t remember any of those conversations, truth be told. But this one, with all of its silence and scarcity, where only the most important things are uttered…this will stay in his heart for eternity. 

  “Do you…want to sing?” he asks Dusky after a few moments. 

  Dusky looks at Shark with a small smile.

  “I’d love to.” 

  “Which song?” asks Shark.

  Dusky motions with his hand. 

  “Any one you’d like.”

  Distantly, he can hear the familiar notes of a battle hymn. Shark rests his head on his elbows. 

  “What about the one about the red shell?” he asks. 

  Dusky raises an eyebrow. 

  “Are you certain? That one is…”

  He trails off, a smile filling his face.

  “Alright.” 

  Shark grasps Dusky’s hand. They look up at the canopy of stars soaring over then, blessed by the light of the moon. Once again, their eyes meet and the song wells up in their chest. 

  I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you 

A story that is deep and true

One of the brave warrior Astakos and his beloved bride Zargana

Separated by a dispute of the gods, Astakos vowed his red shell to protect Zargana

For in those times, our people had truly been one with our namesakes 

  “Do not worry, my sweet, for this shell is only for you to take,” promised Astakos as he set off to war.

  Off he went, clashing against the beasts of the land with their sharp fangs and hard hooves

The nights were long, the sun too bright and the waters far too distant

Moons upon moons rose and set, Astakos dancing about the fiery waters

  Whilst Zargana, poor maid, had thought herself a widow. 

She set off to the distant battlefields, arriving at a field of red shells

She littered the red field with her pink pearls, so endless was her sorrow

  “Oh, what good does war do when it only births widows and empty red shells?” lamented the mermaiden.

  Above, the raging gods continued to clash in their wars, deaf to her pleas.

  Determined to find Astakos’ shell, Zargana swam off into the distant waters of the cold North, a land where no god of hers paid audience to

  Once the war subsided, weary Astakos returned to a home without Zargana’s laughter and love

Betrayed by Zargana’s desertion, the warrior withdrew into his shell

  How silent the fates were, how unseeing the gods were to the lovers’ plight that to this day Zargana swims alone in the icy waters of the north whilst Astakos slumbers in his red shell

  A grin fills Shark’s lips as their melody is carried off by the waves. 

  “If I’m blaspheming tonight, then I’m going to commit it as much as possible,” he says.

  Dusky exchanges a matching grin. Above them, the moon shines full and brought. Shark follows his gaze and lifts his tail from the surface, iridescent scales sending droplets filled with rainbows into the sea. 

  “It’s time,” murmurs Dusky, clutching the dagger in his hand. “Are you certain?”

  Shark gazes into Dusky’s earnest eyes. His chest tightens as he nods.

  “I am.” 

  With a sigh, Dusky slides into the water, positioning the dagger above Shark’s tail. Shark takes a deep breath, staring at the dagger’s dark blade and Dusky’s grim expression. 

  “Open to the 73rd page,” instructs Dusky. “It’ll be the page with the large inkspill behind it.” 

  Shark takes the tome into his shaking hands, wondering if it would disintegrate at his touch. Gingerly, he grabs a pile of the delicate pages and flips past them. The ancient mermish swims before his eyes, yet his memories from school slowly bubble up. He immediately knows when he has arrived at the correct page, the ink stain behind it nearly swallowing up the words on this page. Through the ink, he can make out the title Ondine’s Doomed Desire.

  Dusky follows Shark’s gaze and nods. Then he looks up at the sky. 

  “Hurry. We don’t have much time. Read the incantation.” 

  “Hold on…It’s been a while since I’ve read ancient mermish…” mutters Shark. 

  He takes a deep breath. 

  “ L…llm…”

  Shark swallows, his throat growing dry.

  “Llm oor et ee ays et poris,” he reads after a few moments. “ Pase, aber rye meor sx oo ss mg cae ee ae.”

  Beneath the moon I weep. Father, turn away from this sinful plea.

  Shark takes a deep breath, forcing himself to continue.

  “Py. Oe at. Ec alae eye ee i Se SO Gah Prater. re TS tye.”

  May this undeserving blood wash away this body of mine.

  With his lips pursed into a thin line, Dusky plunges the dagger in Shark’s tail and pulls it down. Shark lets out a scream, a hand shooting out to grasp Dusky’s hair. Pearls beads in his eyes as he continues to read the spell. Dusky grits his teeth in effort as he pulls the blade down, slowly splitting Shark’s tail in half.

  “Fo - aa Cw ea BOER aie aa. Sean ro wT SEP te Te o ora Mise nS ge…! Vo wane wre Tag ek ate rasa a Se oe ROBE ee, Cte all!” screams Shark. 

  Fins to skin. Tail to feet. Flippers to hands. Scales to hairs. Pearls to water. 

  Shark can feel pearls tumbling down his cheek as the webbing recedes from his hands. He digs his nails into the pages of the worn tome. His blood is bright red as it pools into the ocean. Dusky’s hands are completely covered in blood as well. Yet he remains determined, his grip on the blade unwavering. 

  “Give me that!” shouts Dusky as he reaches out for the book. “Now, together!” 

  Awkwardly, the two run their eyes over the last few sentences. 

  “ A Mees soy ey ky Me pe ER elt A rn Soe ea Seg ee a, a cre or RTS. i, a EN RRR LS Ne ee, ORS ZONES, BO RPS SEY og CE ER ge Td SRST !” they cry together, Dusky’s blade exiting Shark’s tail. 

  Upon the final word being uttered, Shark can feel his throat seizing up. His hands fly to his throat as he lets out a choked scream. Only a small mewl escapes from his throat, soon turning into a sharp exhale. Then, silence. He looks down at his split tail, its color lightening and the halves stiffening. Fear fills Shark’s chest as Dusky takes him into his arms, hurriedly swimming towards the red sunning stones. 

  As the songs from the full moon gathering fades away, Shark’s human heart begins to beat louder in his chest. He clutches Dusky’s shoulder, flecks of ocean water touching his grayish toes. Carefully, Dusky places Shark onto the shore. Beneath the moonlight, Shark looks at his pale skin. Now, his toes are a rosy pink, flecked by small nails. He looks at them in wonderment, pulling them to his hands. When he opens his clenched fist, a handful of blue pearls tumble out. 

  Looking up at Dusky, he smiles. 

  Thank you, he mouths.

  Dusky rests his forehead against Shark’s. 

  “I hope you’ll find happiness,” he says, his voice wavering at the end. 

  Shark clutches Dusky’s face in his hands, marveling at the warmth his fingers radiated. He presses their foreheads closer. Dusky pulls Shark into a tight embrace. His friend’s voice is a bare whisper, almost carried away by the wind. 

  “Every step will feel like stepping on shards of glass. You will have no voice. And…,” Dusky’s voice trails off, something hard bouncing off of Shark’s shoulder. “By sunrise, if your feet touch ocean water again, you’ll turn into seafoam.” 

  Shark’s shoulder slackens at the final warning. A chill runs down his spine. He closes his eyes, knowing that this would be a final farewell. Dusky pulls him closer once more. Something hard tumbles to the sand.

  “May the waves be with you,” he utters. 

  Voiceless, Shark can only raise his hand and watch as his dearest friend swims away. Giving Shark one last look, Dusky waves, his eyes filled with pearls. Before they can fall from his eyes, he dives deep into the ocean, praying that the pearls would be carried towards the shore. 

  🎵

  “Woah! Are you okay?!” shouts a distant voice. 

  Shark jumps awake, turning towards the voice. A green-haired girl runs towards him, clutching her skirts in her hands. Behind her, an elderly woman calls for her in an exasperated voice.

  “Kotori! Don’t just approach ruffians on the beach like that! For decency’s sake, he’s unclothed!”

  Shark stares at the approaching girl. She turns back to the woman and sticks her tongue out.

  “You act as if I’ve never seen a naked man before! Yuma and I practically grew up bathing together!” 

  At the mention of Yuma, Shark sits up straighter. He tries to recall the name of the familiar girl. It was something that began with ‘Ko,’ like coconuts. 

  “Are you okay?” asks “Koconut.” 

  They hold each other’s gaze for a few moments. Then, “Koconut’s” eyes widen and her hands fly to her mouth as recognition fills her face. Quickly, she peels off her dark blue coat and wraps it around Shark’s shoulders. 

  “You must be freezing! Have you been like this the entire night?” asks “Koconut,” her voice now a high-pitched whisper. 

  Slowly, Shark nods. 

  “I can bring you inside and the servants can help you get dressed. Are you looking for Yuma?”

  Another nod. 

  “Koconut” beams and takes Shark’s hand. The warmth sends a prickle down Shark’s spine. He frowns as he slowly stands up. When he takes a step forward, pain shoots up his legs. He collapses back into the sand, where he lands on a clutch of pearls. Surreptitiously, he gathers them into his fist.

  “Are you okay?!” asks “Koconut.”

  “Kotori!” calls Grandmother Yone. “You can’t take him home! What would your mother and father say?”

  “Just look at him! He’s hurt!” protests “Koconut.”

  Shark quickly shakes his head and forces himself to stand again, the pain once more stabbing his legs. He bites his lip and forces a smile at “Koconut.” Motioning towards the stairs from where “Koconut” and her grandmother came, he begins to walk towards the stairs. 

  “He’s walking just fine! Don’t you think he’s planning something?” asks Grandmother Yone as “Koconut” walks Shark across the beach. 

  “We’ve met before! Kind of,” says “Koconut” with a nervous smile. 

  She exchanges a nervous smile with Shark. 

  “I’m Kotori, by the way. What’s your name?”

  Oh. Kotori. Right. Shark looks down at the sand and then the ocean. Awkwardly, he places  a hand on his throat and then shakes his head. His companion frowns, putting her free hand on her chin. 

  “Do you know how to write?”

  Shark shakes his head. 

  “I’ll teach you!” pipes up Kotori excitedly. “You know, on Sundays, I help out at the school in the village! I teach little children who can’t afford to pay for classes how to read! It’ll be super fun!” 

  How easily the words flowed from the girl’s mouth. How easily she could tell her stories and infuse it with her joyous emotions. Shark had taken this ability for granted, communicating with grunts and muttering when he couldn’t be fully bothered to communicate. Now, even grunting has been taken away from him. A pang fills his chest. 

  “How did you even make it here? I’m glad I found you, though! I always go to the beach in the mornings. It does wonders for my skin!” continues Kotori. “Was the journey dangerous? Did you use magic? You know magic, right?!”

  Shark frowns at her and motions to his throat. Kotori gasps and places her hand on her mouth. 

  “Right! Sorry.”

  They approach the stone steps leading up to a large mansion. Kotori slowly walks up the steps, her grip firm on Shark’s. He looks at the young woman whose cheeks were flushed with red and whose eyes were sparkling with life. 

  “You chose the right time to come. Yuma’s visiting today,” says Kotori. “He does that in his free time.” 

  At the mention of the young prince’s name, a strange heat fills Shark’s cheeks. He looks down at the stone steps, slowly ascending them. Pain continues to fill every step he takes. But, if his legs could bring him to his prince, then everything would be worth it. Beside him, Kotori chuckles. 

  “Before I forget, thank you. For saving his life,” she breathes. “Your secret is safe with me.” 

  Warmth—a different kind than the one he felt around Yuma—fills Shark’s chest. It felt familiar, almost. As if he were with Medaka or Dusky. Maybe things on land weren’t so different after all. 

  🎵

  “Hey, Kotori!” calls Yuma’s voice from the window. 

  Shark perks up and watches as Kotori runs to the window. She opens it and waves to her friend. 

  “Come on in!” she shouts. “I have a guest who wants to see you!”

  She turns back to Shark with a grin, hooking her arm around his. Together, they descend the winding staircase. Kotori’s parents had welcomed Shark with raised brows. However, with enough explanation (they had found Yuma’s body together and then agreed to become pen pals), her parents relented and allowed Shark to stay in their home. From the way her parents sighed, Shark knew that they were used to appeasing their daughter. 

  When the butler opens the door to the young prince, Shark’s heart stops. He stiffens as Kotori runs up to Yuma and pulls her friend towards him. Yuma greets Shark with a boyish grin. 

  “Hey there! What’s your name?” he asks.

  Shark opens his mouth, only for nothing to come out. Dismay fills his features. Now how would Yuma recognize him? In the darkness, he had only heard Shark’s voice. 

  “I’m sorry. He’s mute. But, he came a long way to see you,” explains Kotori. 

  Shark can only nod, each breath more painful than the last. He grasps Yuma’s outstretched hand, begging, begging for him to recognize the feel of his fingers in his. Yuma’s expression remains unchanging, the bright yet empty smile still on his face. 

  “I see!” says Yuma. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.” 

  We’ve already met. Shark’s smile wavers. He lets go of Yuma’s hand and then points to the sea. Through the glass, it feels so distant and small, framed between trees and rocks. Then he points back to himself and mimes out a swimming motion with his hands. Confusion fills Yuma’s expression. 

  “Oh, wow. That’s a long way, isn’t it? You swam across the sea just for me?”

  Shark vigorously nods. He swam, he bled and cried for him. From his pocket, he fishes out one of the pearls he had kept from the shore. He mimes it falling from his eyes and then presents it to Yuma. 

  Yuma stares at the bluish gray pearl with an open mouth.

  “Oh, no…I possibly can’t. My family has a ton of…”

  Kotori elbows Yuma, eliciting a squawk of pain from the prince. 

  “That’s a mermaid tear, isn’t it? Don’t you know how precious that is?!”

  She briefly glances up at Shark, her brows furrowed.

  “Are you sure?” she asks him.

  Shark replies with a fervent nod. He had more where that came from. 

  Awkwardly, Yuma takes the pearl and holds it up to the sunlight. Then he sticks it in his mouth, much to Shark and Kotori’s dismay. 

  “Oh, thanks,” he says, spitting out the pearl after Kotori kicks his foot. 

  “They’re not edible!” she snaps. 

  “I know! I was just testing to see if it was real!”

  “You do that with gold, not with pearls!” 

  Shark smiles. With a grin, Kotori leads the both of them to the couch. Yuma pockets the pearl and plops himself onto the soft cushions. Placing his arms behind his head, he turns to Shark with an inquisitive look. 

  “What makes a foreigner like you interested in meeting me? I know I’m a prince, but you have your own princes, right?”

  No. Beneath the sea, all merfolk were seen as equal. True, there were some that were more popular than others, but they were seen more as idols than true leaders. Shark stares at his feet, placing a hand on his chin, imitating Kotori. He shakes his head.

  “A land without a prince, huh…?” muses Yuma. “You have a king or a queen?”

  Another headshake.

  Yuma’s brows jump up. 

  “You must be from Venusia! Is it true that everyone there has a voice in how the government functions?!” 

  Kotori stifles a smile at Shark’s bewildered expression. Yes, every merperson had a voice beneath the sea, but regarding the sea creatures…Long before Shark’s hatching, his people had been able to communicate with the fish. Only when a mermaid, full of hubris and pride, had challenged the Sea-Mother Aphritite to a singing contest had they lost their connection to the sea creatures. When he was young, he had attempted to speak to the fish. They merely stared at him in wide-eyed confusion, just like how he looked now when Yuma asked him about Venusia. 

  Once, again, he shakes his head, heat filling his cheeks. He wishes he knew how to make the prince understand. His nails dig into the unfamiliar “pants” that he wears. It had seemed so easy in his fantasies. Once he made it on shore, Yuma would take him to his palace and together, they would travel the lands above. Shark would always feel warm and alive, the sun always shining on his skin. 

  “Well then…where are you from?” asks Yuma. 

  Shark points to a picture of the ocean hanging above the fireplace. Yuma follows his stare. 

  “A lighthouse?” he muses.

  Another headshake. Shark emphasizes his pointing, focusing on the blue tones of the ocean. 

  “The sky?”

  Shark gives Kotori an exasperated stare. The young woman gives him a helpless shrug. Sighing, Shark points out the window towards the sea. Then, he makes a motion of waves with his hands. Yuma laughs.

  “You can’t be from the ocean! Humans can’t breathe in water! You’re so funny!” 

  Without warning, Shark jabs his finger onto the fading wound on Yuma’s head and then points to himself, miming a throwing motion. 

  “Ah…!” exclaims Yuma, pulling away from Shark’s touch. 

  Shark immediately stops, a pit forming in his stomach. Kotori gasps. 

  It was me who did that, can’t you see? thinks Shark desperately, holding Yuma’s wounded gaze. Slowly, he points to himself again and then motions throwing. 

  “Oh, yeah. That happened on my birthday. You guessed right. Someone threw something at me,” mumbles Yuma. 

  Were all humans this oblivious? Shark bites his lip in frustration and balls his hands into fists. He motions to Kotori to grab something for him to draw on. Nodding, Kotori hurries off. In the silence that follows, Shark moves closer to Yuma. In response, Yuma slightly pulls away. A pang fills Shark’s chest. Hesitantly, he reaches out towards Yuma’s forehead. Slowly, Yuma meets his hand. His skin is warm and soft, nothing like the rough scales of the merfolk. 

  Shark lowers his head, cheeks burning with shame. 

  “ Sorry, ” he mouths. 

  “It’s okay. It wasn’t you who did it,” murmurs Yuma. 

  With a sigh, Shark shakes his head and then points to himself. Yuma grins and pulls away from Shark.

  “You’re funny, whatever your name is.” 

  He doesn’t even know his name. Shark looks down at his feet, inches away from the floor. Now what? 

  “Here you are,” says Kotori placing a piece of paper and charcoal before Shark. 

  Nodding, Shark takes the charcoal and begins to draw himself beneath the sea with a tail. Above, he draws a ship with Yuma and the approaching storm. Perhaps it was foolish, revealing to a human that he had once been a merman, but there was no turning back after his decision. 

  “Oh, wow…,” begins Yuma. “How did you know?”

  Scoffing, Shark circles himself, the charcoal snapping in half in his frustration. Yuma purses his lips.

  “No, it can’t be,” he says, forcing a chuckle. “Merfolk aren’t real.” 

  Glaring at Yuma, Shark tosses half off the charcoal at Yuma’s forehead. 

  “Hey!” shouts Kotori. 

  “Ow! Why did you have to do it right…”

  Yuma pauses, watching Shark’s sketch on the other side of the paper. On a sandy shore was the bedraggled prince. Beside him was Shark. Above them was a dark and cloudy sky. Yuma’s hand slowly falls from his forehead. 

  “No, the person who saved me could talk,” mumbles Yuma, turning away from Shark. “You can’t be him.” 

  “Yuma!” whisper-shouts Kotori. 

  In the remaining space of the paper, Shark draws himself with a dagger, slicing his tail in half to form legs. He had already broken the rule of revealing himself to a human. He shouldn’t drag in Dusky as well. Pointing to the image, he then points to his throat and motions it flying away. He stares at Yuma, pleading for him to understand. How else could he have known of these events, unless Yuma had told everyone he knew?

  An awkward smile fills Yuma’s lips. 

 “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “All I knew about him was his voice. If you can’t speak, then…well, it’s a bit of a serious topic, finding the man that saved a prince’s life. I have to be really certain.” 

  Dismay fills Shark’s chest, deeper than the trenches of The Sea Mother’s Grief. He watches as Yuma turns to the clock and then stands. 

  “That’s about all the time I have for today. I have a lot of meetings to attend and Akari’ll bite my head off if I come to them late. I’ll see you later!” says Yuma. 

  “Oh! Bye!” says Kotori. 

  She reaches into her pocket and presents Yuma with something wrapped in a handkerchief. Immediately, Yuma’s face lights up, similar to the time he was on the ship. Shark’s heart twists with envy as Kotori beams in return. 

  “I was about to ask if you had any treats waiting for me!” he says. “Tell Chef I said thanks!”

  Before Shark could beg for him to wait, Yuma runs off. Shark watches him in silence, his skin cold just like when he was beneath the waves.

  🎵

  “S-H-A-R-K,” spells out Kotori. “Shark. That’s your name?” she asks. 

  Shark nods, admiring his handiwork. The quill pen had taken ages to grow accustomed to. It was nothing like the flexible squid ink quills. Kotori smiles and then puts a hand on his shoulder. 

  “You’re a fast learner, Shark.” 

  Shark scoffs. He’d been alive for centuries. Of course he was a fast learner. Even if the feather quill had taken a while to grow used to. 

  “Lady Kotori! His royal majesty is here!” calls Grandmother Yone.

  Kotori perks up along with Shark. Despite their awkward initial meeting, the memories on the shore continued to fill his mind. Together, they run down the stairs, the pain erased with the thought of seeing Yuma again. 

  “Yuma!” calls Kotori as she enters the receiving room. 

  Yuma stands upon seeing her, crumbs lining the tray of treats he was busily eating from. 

  “Hey!” he says, his mouth stuffed with cookies. 

  When he sees Shark, his smile slightly fades. Shark’s heart skips a beat. 

  “I was thinking we could go for a carriage ride today! It’s lovely weather,” says Yuma. 

  “Yes! I think Shark would like it too!” says Kotori, pulling Shark close. 

  Color fills Shark’s cheeks as Yuma’s attention turns to him, his eyebrows quirked.

  “Shark…?” muses Yuma.

  “Yeah! I’ve been teaching him how to read and write and today, he wrote his name!”

  “Shark, like the fish?”

  Not a fish, but, close enough. Shark nods. 

  “That’s a really cool name!” says Yuma. “You know, I went across the desert and met a scholar named Leo! That means lion in his language!” 

  Shark nods, unsure exactly what a lion was. For the umpteenth time, he wishes Dusky was by his side. Surely, Dusky would know all of these strange terms. Meanwhile, he had just familiarized himself with what was a fork, plate, spoon and napkin. Now he had to learn about what a ‘lion’ was? 

  “Let’s go to the market. I’ve been craving some of Miss Okudaira’s caramel apples!” says Yuma. 

  Kotori nods in agreement. She turns to Shark. 

  “You do want to go, right? I don’t want you to go somewhere you don’t…”

  Quickly, Shark nods. He dashes over to the door and begins putting on his boots. Kotori laughs and hurries over. 

  “Alright! All three of us, embarking on an adventure!” 

  Slipping on her shoes, Kotori opens the door. 

  “Grannie, I’m going!” she calls. 

  “She’ll be in good hands!” yells Yuma afterwards. 

  Hooking arms, the two exchange smiles and walk out the door. For a moment, Shark is transfixed, caught in between their youthful smiles. A brief flicker of pain fills his chest. He walks out the door and closes the door behind him. Ahead of him, Kotori whispers something in Yuma’s ear and he laughs. The pain intensifies. Once, he also had someone to whisper in his ear. Medaka and Dusky’s faces fill his mind, their faces slowly losing their sharpness by the week. 

  Over Kotori and Yuma’s laughter, Shark wonders when he’ll be unable to recall their faces. 

  He sits at the end of the carriage, hands folded in his lap. Yuma sits in between, the reins of the horses in his hands. Shark eyes the large creatures with wariness, the strange devices on their eyes serving no apparent purpose. With a flick of his wrist, the horses jump to life. Shark startles, his hand falling on Yuma’s lap. The young prince briefly stares down at Shark’s hand.

  “Did you have horses from where you came from?” he asks. 

  Shark shakes his head. 

  “No horses?!” exclaims Yuma. “How did you get around?”

  Shark creates a swimming motion with his hands. 

  “You crawled?” asks Yuma incredulously. 

  His eyes nearly pop out of his head. Shark stifles a derisive snort. For a prince, he sure was thick. Maybe the seashell Shark tossed at him did some damage. Humans were very delicate, after all. If so, Shark was wholly responsible for the prince’s sand-filled head and was determined to take care of him his entire life. 

  Shark shakes his head and waves his hand. Nevermind. Yuma frowns. 

  “You should take me to your country sometime. It sounds like you could use some improvements,” notes Yuma. 

  The derisive snort escapes from Shark. As if these short-lived humans could teach his people something. With a shrug, Yuma flicks the reins of the horses and lets out a cry. Shark jumps as the large animals leap into motion. He wraps his hands around Yuma, blushing as Yuma looked down at him in confusion. Immediately, Shark pulls away, his skin hotter than a deep sea vent. 

  Fins are a perfectly good way to travel. 

  The land before them is an array of colors, similar to that of a coral reef. A cold breeze stirs through the air, swirling orange and yellow leaves around. Unlike the verdant trees of summer, these trees are in shades of sunset. Medaka would have loved this. Yuma whistles a gaily tune, Kotori joining in with her singing. Shark looks at the couple in envy, his hand clutched around his throat. If Dusky had read more books, would there have been a way for him to keep his voice and have legs at the same time? It would have solved so many problems…

  He pictures him and Yuma singing together, the full moon shining down on them. If he could still talk, he would have taught Yuma all the mermish hymns he knew. Maybe they would like the same songs. 

  The clouds pass by them like flocks of sheep, white and fluffy. Shark raises his nose to the air and smells the familiar earthy smell of rain in the distance. 

  Trees soon begin to thin out, giving way to small human settlements. Atop of Kotori and Yuma’s laughter, the sounds of other humans fill the air. Laughter, whinnying, shouting…It’s almost like a concert. Shark perks up, looking at the colorful stalls and vast array of people. At the top of the village is a large structure with high towers and white marble walls. 

  Perhaps the humans weren’t as depraved or barbaric as his people had thought. 

  “Woah!” calls Yuma, pulling on his horses’ reins. He turns to Shark and gives him a smile. “We’re here! What do you think?” 

  Following Shark’s wide-eyed gaze towards the castle, Yuma’s smile turns into a grin.

  “Yup! That’s where I live! Isn’t it gorgeous? My great, great grandfather built it with his bare hands! But let’s go! Mrs. Okudaira’s caramel apples never last long!” 

  He hops off the carriage, helping Shark and Kotori down. Linking arms, the three begin to walk into the village square. 

  “Your majesty! Lady Kotori!” call passerby, bowing to the prince. 

  Yuma greets his subjects with his lively smile, waving at children and merchants. Kotori accepts the greetings with a slight bow of her head. 

  “And who’s the purple-haired lad?” calls a man. 

  “This is our friend, Shark!” replies Kotori. 

  Shark turns towards the sound of the voice and waves to the man. The elderly man looks at him and puts a hand on his chin. 

  “Looks a bit thin! Have you been treating him well?” 

  Kotori laughs, her laughter akin to the ringing of bells. 

  “Of course! He came a long way to meet me!” 

  Tightening her grasp around Yuma’s arm, Kotori drags him and Shark towards a stall laden with treats. The vast array of color dazzles Shark’s eyes. A woman whose hair was tied back by a cloth greets the three with a smile. 

  “I knew you’d be here! I saved some apples just for you,” she says, handing Kotori a basket of caramel apples. 

  “Thank you!” says Kotori, handing Mrs. Okudaira a pouch of coins. 

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly…!” laughs the woman, turning her gaze to Yuma. “You’ve already done so much for my son.” 

  Yuma blushes and scratches the back of his head.

  “Aw, it was just a little letter of recommendation…,” he chuckles. 

  “Nonsense. It meant the world to Fuuya to be able to study in Venusia,” she says, her gaze turning to Shark. “Have you made yourself a new friend?”

  The prince turns to Shark and gives him a lopsided grin. Enraptured by the colorful treats, Shark startles upon hearing Yuma’s voice. 

  “Any friend of Kotori’s is mine,” he replies. 

  A hint of color fills Shark’s cheeks. He gazes at the shopkeep, wishing he could ask her what all of her strange wares were. 

  “What’s your name?” asks Mrs. Okudaira. 

  Once again, a pang fills Shark’s chest. How he had taken his voice for granted…Now he can’t even tell anyone his name. 

  “His name’s Shark. He’s a mute,” explains Kotori. 

  The woman’s eyes widen. 

  “Oh, my apologies…” 

  Shark points to a colorful array of seashells, gazing at their light colors with curiosity.

  “This?” asks Mrs. Okudaira to Shark’s nod. She smiles. “These are my powdered seashells. Would you like to try one?”

  Shark nods. As the soft shell is placed into his hand, he’s surprised to find that it’s made of a sand-like texture. Slowly, he places it in his hair to peals of laughter. 

  “You’re supposed to eat it, silly!” says Yuma. 

  “He’s from overseas. He’s still getting used to a few things,” explains Kotori to a giggling Mrs. Okudaira. 

  With his face aflame, Shark removes the shell and places it into his mouth. The cold, chalky texture makes him wince. It was like eating a mouthful of sand! What were these humans putting in their bodies?! 

  “Oh, dear…not to your liking?” asks Mrs. Okudaira. 

  Shark vehemently shakes his head. The shopkeep chuckles. 

  “It’s a bit of an acquired taste, I know…”

  She takes a small pearl from a bowl and offers it to Shark. 

  “Here’s something that always sells. It’s a candied cherry.” 

  The red pearl glistens in the bright sunlight. Hesitantly, Shark reaches out for it. He looks to Kotori and Yuma. Both of them motion to their mouths. Placing it on his tongue, he’s surprised to find it sweet and pliant. Slowly, he chews. 

  “Better?” asks Mrs. Okudaira. 

  Shark nods. 

  “That’s good to hear,” she says, turning to Kotori. “Where is your friend from?”

  “He’s the son of Drahalenese sailors,” says Kotori. “He’s been on water more than land!”

  “My, how interesting!”

  Shark’s attention wanders off as Kotori and Yuma begin to talk about people and things he doesn’t know. He’s drawn to the distant sound of human music, with its high pitched tones and looping melodies. Unlinking his arm from Yuma, he wanders through the market square until he finds the source. A bevy of maidens and young men have gathered to dance, their heads bedecked by autumnal wreaths. By the wall, a small band plays, their instruments unfamiliar to Shark. He gazes down at the long bow and strings of one instrument. Then he turns to see a stick with holes drilled into it, emitting high pitched squeaks. Slowly, he feels himself drawn closer and closer to the dancers and the band. 

  Although the music was unfamiliar, everything else reminded him of the merfolks’ celebrations. Medaka, like the maidens here, would dress herself in finery. Then she would arrive to the celebration, immediately surrounded by hopeful partners. Shark and Dusky would remain in the back, watching as their friends and neighbors danced. Celebrations would last for hours, filled with singing and dancing. Often, Shark and Dusky would sneak out once everyone had their fill of kelp wine. As the merfolk celebrated, the two friends would go to the surface to stargaze. 

  In the cool night air, they would talk about their dreams and softly sing together. Sometimes, they would just hold hands and gaze into the vast expanse of the heavens. 

  “Shark!” calls Yuma, jolting Shark from his memories. “There you are!” 

  Shark turns to see Yuma, his mouth stuffed with caramel apple. He holds one out to Shark. 

  “There’s one for you too!” 

  Slowly, Shark takes the apple from Yuma. He looks up at Yuma’s hopeful eyes. Hesitantly, he takes a bite, surprised at the stickiness. The sweetness of the sugar and the tartness of the apple makes him stare into the distance. Then he swallows and takes another bite. It was almost like biting into a glazed pufferfish.

  “It’s good, isn’t it?” exclaims Yuma. 

  Shark nods despite not being sure what to make of it. Yuma’s gaze moves past him and towards the dancers. 

  “Have you danced before?” he asks abruptly. 

  Shark swallows a particularly large chunk of apple and then shakes his head. Yuma’s mouth opens into a small “o.”

  “I can teach you! Right! You’re invited to the ball next week! I almost forgot!” 

  Ball? Kotori never told him about that. Shark takes another large bite of the apple, the sweetness now overpowering the apple. 

  “After you finish the apple, we can dance!” 

  Already, a curious crowd is gathering around them. Shark can feel his skin begin to heat up at all the attention he was receiving. He opens his mouth wide and tears the apple off of its stick. Yuma claps his hands in delight, eyes filled with admiration. 

  “That’s so cool! You should teach me how to do that! I can only fit a few pancakes in my mouth but it looks like you can fit in a whole dish!” gushes Yuma. 

  Maybe he was just a particularly dumb human, thinks Shark as he tosses the stick aside. Immediately, Yuma grabs his hands and pulls him into the crowd. The warmth of his skin never fails to surprise Shark. 

  “See, here’s how we dance in my kingdom…,” begins Yuma. “No matter what ball you’re going to, there will always be the Utopos Quadrille.”

  With smiles on their faces, the dancers around them begin to get into position. The array of color, smells and steps meld into one, increasing Shark’s heart rate and the heat on his cheeks. Yuma’s hold is firm as he teaches Shark to dance, his instructions delivered with enthusiasm. It’s similar to our circles, thinks Shark as the music starts up. I haven’t been in a circle for moons. 

  His steps are stumbling at first, the strange music out of sync with his steps. Yuma corrects him with a gentle smile. Heat flares up in Shark’s chest as he steps on Yuma’s shoe. 

  “It’s alright,” says Yuma. “I did that all the time with my poor sister.” 

  He punctuates his statement with a grin. 

  “Now I know how it feels.” 

  The heat in Shark’s chest intensifies. He looks down at his feet for the next few moments, begging this strange body of his to obey. With each step he takes, pain shoots up his legs. Despite this, he forces himself to continue on, his fingers laced through Yuma’s like seaweed. He can’t bring himself to let go, not when he feels this alive. 

  “Wow, you’re a fast learner!” exclaims Yuma. 

  Now that Shark thinks of it, the quadrille was a circle but with legs. He turns, gazing at Yuma’s radiant expression. The other dancers part ways, leaving them in the circle. 

  “It’s our turn to be in the center! Let’s go!” 

  One step. Two step. Three step. Four. For a moment, Shark feels as if he’s floating in water again, light and airy. He ignores everyone’s curious eyes on him, focused only on his prince. They’re in sync, step for step, twirl for twirl. A hint of sweat has beaded Yuma’s brow. His vibrant smile remains as he and Shark dance. Briefly, it feels as if time has stopped and Shark’s legs are no longer in pain. Then they twirl back into the crowd, allowing another couple into the circle. 

  A droplet falls at Shark’s feet, darkening the ground at his feet. Shark looks down and then looks up. Another droplet splashes on his nose. 

  “It’s just a sprinkle,” reassures Yuma. “I’ve seen a lot more rain sailing.” 

  Shark nods in agreement. They watch as the couples take their turns in the center, the rain increasing its intensity. Slowly, the square empties, yet the two remain with the musicians shielded by an overhand. Yuma looks down at Shark, a shyer smile on his lips. 

  “Before we go back, can I teach you my favorite dance?”

  Of course. Anything to keep this feeling alive, thinks Shark as he nods. He hasn’t felt this…warm…since…he can’t even remember. Grasping Yuma’s hands, they turn towards the musicians. Yuma exchanges a wink with them. 

  “This one is simple. It’s called ‘the sea.’”

  Indeed, the steps are simple. Two steps forward, one backward. Swaying in each other’s arms like ocean waves. They twirl and part, like two ships in a storm. Despite the pouring rain, it feels as if Shark’s pain has been replaced by a warmth he can’t describe. After a few practiced steps, the music swells and Yuma’s grip around Shark tightens. Once again, it feels as if Shark is floating in the water again, surrounded by the comforts of home. 

  Yuma pulls him closer, his head resting on Shark’s shoulder. 

  “I showed my grandmother your pearl,” murmurs Yuma. “She says it’s a real mermaid tear. How did you get that?”

  Shark stiffens. Then he looks at Yuma. For once, the prince’s expression is serious. Shark’s heart skips a beat. He takes a deep breath and raises his index finger to the bottom of his eye and pulls it down, miming a tear. Yuma hardens his jaw, brows furrowing. 

  “I’m sorry,” he says after a few moments. “For not believing you at first.” 

  Shark’s world stops. He holds Yuma’s gaze. In response, Yuma squeezes his hand. 

  “It really was you, wasn’t it? It was too dark to see the color of your hair or your eyes, but…” 

  A smile fills Shark’s lips. Yuma avoids his hopeful gaze. 

  “It must have hurt, coming to shore.” 

  Shark vigorously nods, the pain returning to his legs as if on cue. But it’s alright now, because you’re here. If only he could speak…if only he could tell Yuma how amazing it felt to be by his side and finally feel alive…

  “Sorry for causing you all that trouble,” continues Yuma. 

  Shark shakes his head. He mouths out a ‘ thank you.’ Yuma looks at him in confusion. 

  “What for?” he asks. 

  Looking down at his hands and then his surroundings, Shark then decides to motion at the village square. He opens his arms wide and then turns around, the smile remaining on his lips. Yuma chuckles. 

  “Then I guess you’re welcome. Do you think you could take me down to the sea sometime?”

  Shark pauses, remembering Dusky’s warning. With furrowed brows and a frown, he shakes his head. Then he mimes opening up a book and then shrugs.

  “Not much of a scholar, huh?” says Yuma. 

  Reluctantly, Shark nods. He’s surprised to find Yuma’s hand on his shoulder afterwards, a grin on his face.

  “Me neither.”  

  “Yuma! Shark!” calls Kotori. “Goodness, you’re both drenched!” 

  Neither of them seem bothered by the rain. As if in response, a raindrop drips from the feather in Yuma’s hat. Quickly, Shark grabs the hat and puts it over his head. Yuma turns to him and laughs.

  “It suits you!” 

  In spite of himself, Shark lets out a silent laugh. He never thought that red could be his color. 

  🎵

  “That looks gorgeous on you!” exclaims Kotori. 

  Shark smiles, looking down at his purple coat and the gossamer scarf he wore. It was almost as if he had his scales again. He twirls, earning a giggle from Kotori. She grabs his arm and pulls him downstairs. Grandmother Yone looks at the two with a smile, clasping her granddaughter’s hands in hers. 

  “Make us proud,” she says. 

  Kotori kisses her grandmother’s head and moves onto her parents. They pull her into an embrace. Shark looks at the scene, still unaccustomed to the concept. When he and Medaka were born, they had taken care of each other. Older merfolk had taught them how to hunt and speak their people’s language, but they never had anyone to hold them like that. It stirs…something within him, seeing Kotori with her parents. 

  Shark makes his way outside towards the family carriage. Along the way, Kotori gaily talks to her parents about her and Shark’s day. It seems like her parents have also accepted Shark into the household, although it’s mostly because they don’t know what else to do with him. Kotori’s father was usually cooped up in his study or out surveying his shops. Kotori’s mother was often away at parties. Maybe they saw Shark as Kotori’s guardian, similar to how he saw himself with Medaka. 

  Closing the carriage door behind him, Shark looks out at the sea. There was a full moon tonight. Somewhere, his sister must have been singing. He can almost imagine her voice, so haunting and clear in the chilly air. For once, he wishes he could hear her again. 

  The carriage lurches into motion. Shark keeps his eyes focused on his home until it melds with the shadows of the night. Above him, the constellations shine brightly. Yet to Shark, Yuma’s smile shines brighter than all of the stars in the sky.

  “Uhm, Shark?” asks Kotori. 

  Shark looks up at her. In her gown of emerald green, Kotori’s amber eyes shimmer underneath the lamp. No wonder she could always make Yuma laugh. Rubies adorn her throat and a feather playfully waves in her hair. She is so young and inexperienced, yet so much of her reminds Shark of the mermaids beneath the sea. 

  “I look okay, right?” she asks. 

  Shark nods. Kotori breathes a sigh of relief. 

  “I just don’t want to embarrass Yuma…,” she mumbles. 

  “Nonsense, darling!” says her mother. 

  “My goodness, you’re the jewel of the village! How could you think of such a thing?” exclaims her father, a heavyset man. 

  Her parents voiced Shark’s thoughts exactly. No one could be kinder or more generous than Kotori. She had taught him to read with infinite patience. Her touch was gentle as she held his hand and helped him trace letters in the human language. In the village, she always made sure to greet everyone she knew and paid the merchants a fair price. 

  It’s as if she was Shark’s opposite. Beneath the sea, he was moody and kept to himself. Medaka had always done the talking for him. 

  Come to think of it, Medaka would have loved Kotori. 

  The carriage’s wheels clatter on cobblestone paths, drowning out the Mizukis’ conversations. Shark looks out the window at the well-lit homes and burbling fountains. From the sea, they had seemed so small and desolate. Now he knows better. Like beneath the sea, there was a vibrant community of people who wanted to make the best of their lives. He tries to peer into the houses, wondering who resided in them. Was there also a family like the Mizukis’ in there? Were there only two siblings who took care of each other? A pang fills his chest. He misses the cave that he and Medaka resided in, its nooks and crannies filled with their secrets. 

  It had been his place to hide away from the world, where he felt safe and comforted. After a long day, he would always be able to return to that place and sleep in his own bed. Now he realizes that it was a luxury to have one’s own space. 

  He looks ahead. On top of the hill is the palace, Yuma waiting within. 

  🎵

  “Presenting Countess Hương from the land of the Decandra Monarch!” announces the crier.

  Before the Mizukis, a young woman with a retinue of attendants descends the stairs. Her dark hair is gathered into a tall bun, a circlet lined in fabric adorning her head. Even inside, she is shielded by a red umbrella with tassels. Layers upon layers of brocade sparkles beneath the chandeliers. Her steps are soundless, elegant silk slippers peeking from underneath her robes. 

  Another woman dressed in lavish robes greets her with a bow. Together, they disappear into the crowd, their elegant clothes adding to the wide array of fashions within the room. 

  “Her country’s monarch came from a little yellow fruit,” whispers Kotori. 

  Shark raises a brow, trying to search for the mysterious woman in the crowd. His search is interrupted by Yuma, rising from his throne. 

  “Presenting the Great Merchant Jun Mizuki, his wife, Lady Suzume Mizuki and their daughter, Lady Kotori Mizuki!” announces the crier. 

  Kotori gathers up her skirts and whispers in the crier’s ears. The crier turns to Shark. 

  “Apologies, milady,” he says, clearing his throat. “And, last but not least, her friend, Shark!”

  Kotori glides into the ballroom, immediately surrounded by her friends. She greets each person with a smile, laughing at their jokes and offering her own witty remarks. As if he was undersea again, Shark finds himself drawn to the walls, a glass of champagne in his hand. Once again, he wishes for Dusky to be by his side. How he would love pointing out each country the guests were from. His eyes would sparkle at the women’s elaborate hairstyles and the men’s mustaches. 

  “Hey!” whispers a voice from below. “Shark!” 

  Shark looks down at the table to find Yuma’s face peeking from underneath. He nearly drops his champagne in surprise. Yuma chuckles and holds a finger to his lips. 

  “Shh…! My sister wants me to dance with Viscountess Sei but she’s got bad breath and talks too loud!” whispers Yuma. 

  Shark drains his champagne and then dives underneath the table with Yuma. The prince looks at his outfit and then reaches out to Shark’s scarf.

  “That’s pretty,” he notes. “Did Kotori pick that out for you?” 

  A nod. Yuma’s smile softens. 

  “She has great taste.” 

  They spend what feels like an eternity gazing into each other’s eyes. The sound of the Utopic Quadrille snaps Shark back into reality. A smile fills his lips. He grabs Yuma’s feathery hat and places it on his head. Taking Yuma’s hand, he pulls Yuma out from beneath the table and into the middle of the dance floor. 

  “W-woah! What are you…”

  Yuma looks around in surprise as Shark begins to effortlessly step into the dance. 

  “You practiced!” he exclaims. 

  Shark grins and hooks his arm with Yuma’s. The music speeds up, the rhythm growing fervent. 

  “Yuma!” calls Kotori with a wave. 

  Yuma grins. 

  “Kotori!” he calls. 

  Briefly, they switch partners, Yuma hooking his arms with Kotori’s. Longing fills Shark’s chest as he twirls about with a stranger, longingly staring at the happy couple. Once Yuma is back to his side, Shark lets out a sigh of relief. 

  “Did they have dances like this beneath the sea?” asks Yuma. 

  Memories of his sister surrounded by her friends fills Shark’s mind. Really, he never felt as if he could join her circles. Perhaps a part of him had longed to, many years ago. It was too late now though. Shark nods, grabbing Yuma’s hand and pulling him into the center. 

  He should live in the present. There was no point in regretting decisions made in a place that he can no longer return to. For once, feeling everyone’s gazes on him didn’t feel terrible. In the center of the dance floor, he and Yuma were like two beautiful butterflyfish. Sometimes, Shark was jealous of them. The fish were always seen in pairs, whistling their incomprehensible love songs to each other. Although they lived short lives, it felt like every moment was joyous. 

  Surrounded by the people’s cheers, Shark feels alight. When it’s time for another couple to take their place, the moment feels too soon. Shark turns his attention to Yuma. The young prince’s cheeks are flushed with color and his breathing sends his chest rising and falling. Perhaps humans were like butterfly fish. 

  “Want refreshments?” asks Yuma. 

  Shark nods. 

  The night passes by in a flurry of dancing and listening to Yuma. He listens to Yuma’s seafaring adventures, laughing when he recalls seeing merfolk. When Yuma introduces him to his family members, Shark greets each person with a smile.

  “He saved my life!” explains Yuma to each person that asked who he was. 

  Pride fills Shark’s chest as he walks around with his prince. He marvels at the array of costumes the humans wore and the various languages that they spoke. Yuma is able to speak enough for the both of them, delighting his guests and Shark. Throughout the entire time, Shark wishes he could have a piece of paper to communicate to his prince. During moments where Yuma has run out of things to say, Shark pulls him onto the dancefloor. Their dancing lifts his heart and fills him with warmth. Although he isn’t the best at anything besides the sea and the quadrille, being with Yuma is all that matters to him. 

  When the clock chimes midnight, Yuma sets down his drink and pulls away from Shark. His brows have shot up and he looks nervous. Perhaps he hadn’t intended to spend so much time with Shark. Shark frowns as Yuma looks worriedly up at the thrones. 

  “My sister’s gonna have my head now!” he exclaims, running towards the dais. 

  He tears through the crowd in his coat of blue, plowing through skirts and sliding between legs. A woman with long magenta hair glares at Yuma and then cuffs him on the head. His parents look on with lopsided smiles. Beside them is an old woman, shaking her head in exasperation. Shark winces as he watches the woman lecture Yuma. With his usual ease, Yuma laughs it off. 

  Ting ting. A bell chimes throughout the ballroom. The conversations soon die down as all attention turns to the royal family. Yuma’s father stands, a muscular man with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

  “Thank you for attending my son’s party tonight,” he declares, his voice ringing across the room. “Although a bit late, here is my son’s promised announcement.” 

  A ripple of excitement spreads through the audience. Shark looks on in confusion. Yuma steps up to his father’s side. Nervously, he tugs at his cravat. 

  “Thank you! I almost didn’t make it to this ball because of that awful storm. Thanks to my friend, Shark, I was saved from drowning that night,” declares Yuma.

  All attention turns to Shark. A round of applause fills the room. He wishes he could be by Yuma’s side. Alone, underneath all this applause, he feels lost. 

  “Because of his deed, I wish to make him my best man at the wedding,” continues Yuma. 

  Shark stiffens as the attention returns to Yuma. Wedding? 

  “Since we were children, Kotori and I have been promised to each other on our eighteenth birthdays. I intend to honor this promise and wed her by the end of the month,” says Yuma. “She has been a steadfast friend and a devoted subject, bettering the lives of the people around her. Although she comes from a family of commoners, I believe she possesses blood as noble as any queen’s.” 

  The applause is deafening. Shark’s vision swims. He looks at Kotori, whose cheeks are flushed with joy. Her friends grasp her shoulders and laugh. Beneath the chandeliers, she shines like a jewel. Blood roars through Shark’s ears. The pain returns to his legs. His limbs shake. For a moment, it feels as if he was going to turn into a jellyfish. 

  What did all of that dancing and talking mean to Yuma, then? A lump forms in Shark’s throat. It feels as if he’s been washed ashore. 

  So he runs. Runs from the humans and their glittering fabrics. Runs from the humans with their white teeth and beautiful lies. Runs from their sharp laughter and cruel eyes. They had known. Everyone had known except for him, a mere fish washed up on shore. 

  What was he thinking, trying to claim someone that had already been claimed? The way Yuma and Kotori had laughed by each other’s sides. The various childhood stories Kotori had shared with Shark. Yuma had been the first boy who had kissed her, his lips smeared with Grandmother Yone’s blackberry jam. They had been born for each other, like the coral polyp and its little companion.

  Shark’s eyes burn. Liquid begins to drip from his cheeks. Beneath the sea, his eyes never burned when he cried pearls. A tear hits his tongue and its salty tang fills his mouth. It tasted like home, a place that refused to welcome him back. 

  Beneath him, the moon is high and bright, washing everything in its white light. Who was going to have the honor of singing beneath the full moon tonight? The thought tears a sob from Shark’s throat. He’ll never hear the song of his people again, replaced by the humans’ strange shrieking and moaning. 

  Pain fills every bit of Shark’s body, from his breathing to his running. Yet he forces himself to run until he can hear the gentle lull of the waves again. The cobblestoned path soon turns to dirt then to sand. His legs scream at him to stop. Before him, the ocean ripples and undulates like a black mass. Every breath feels as if glass were piercing his lungs now. Slowly, Shark trudges towards the sand and collapses into it. 

  The familiar salty smells surround him. A distant gull calls. Shark glances up at the shore, only a few paces away. Blood roars through his ears. His throat feels as if a hand is crushing it. 

  He could disappear again. The humans would forget him eventually. But what would Yuma think? After Shark saved him, did Yuma spend sleepless nights wondering who he was? Was he a mysterious figure in the back of Yuma’s mind, haunting his every moment? How did he feel when Shark finally revealed himself? Did he think nothing of it? Shark’s lip trembles. 

  The ocean waves beckon. He closes his eyes and tries to hear the distant mermaid songs. 

  Perhaps this was his punishment for throwing away Poseidon’s gift. 

  He closes his eyes and waits for the tides to reclaim him. 

  “Shark!” calls Kotori. “Shark!” 

  Jolting awake, Shark is shocked to find Kotori running after him, her skirts billowing in the night wind. Worry furrows her brows.

  “Are you alright?! What happened?!” she exclaims. 

  When she sees his swollen eyes, her expression falls and she pulls Shark into an embrace. She at once feels like Medaka and Dusky. A fresh wave of tears fills Shark’s eyes. The tides had drawn closer to them. He wishes he could have disappeared before Kotori found him. How could he tell her of the pain he felt, watching her and Yuma dance together? How could he tell of the painful process he had undergone to become human? No matter where he goes, he’ll always be an outsider. 

  I love him, I love him… and yet…

  Kotori pulls him closer. 

  “I’m sorry. It can’t be. You must know how it is with us humans…”

  Shark shakes his head. 

  “We make promises for those that come after us…because our lives are so short, our children are used to further our goals…,” explains Kotori. “I love Yuma very much, but not many women are as lucky…” 

  Pulling away from Kotori, Shark buries his face into his hands. He shouldn’t be crying in front of this girl who had done nothing but help him. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he pulls Kotori into a hug. Kotori quickly returns the embrace. 

  “I think Yuma loves me as well. We’ll be very happy together,” she adds. “Please don’t worry about him. I promise I’ll take care of him.” 

  Pain, a different pain from the kinds he’s felt before, stabs Shark. Yuma’s laughter by Kotori’s side fills his mind. His eyes had always lit up at the sight of the treats Kotori had baked for him. The jokes they shared that could only be understood by them earned the loudest laughs from both. Even when all three of them were together, the looks Yuma and Kotori gave each had held so much meaning. 

  Kotori was telling the truth. 

  A fresh wave of tears fills Shark’s eyes. He rapidly blinks them away. He forces himself to smile and then pulls away from his friend. It was never meant to be, a human with a merman. The gods had decreed so since the beginning of time. This was his fate. Wiping away his tears, he then holds Kotori’s hands. 

  He’ll be happy for her. And for Yuma.

  🎵

  The wedding is beautiful, in human terms. Kotori is dressed in white, her skirts billowing in the breeze like seafoam. On the ship, she moves on the deck with ease in comparison to the other seasick maidens. Grudgingly, Shark is impressed. Proudly calling herself the daughter of a merchant, she greets each of her guests with a bouquet of citrus flowers and a pair of folded paper cranes for each couple. Shark had helped her fold each one, the two often found sleeping side by side in the morning. 

  From across the deck, Yuma watches Shark with a hint of a sad smile. At all costs, Shark avoids him. He’d hate to cry during the young couple’s happiest day. 

  When the time comes for the rings to be presented, Shark blinks away his budding tears and slowly walks down the aisle. The sunset dyes the skies a rich orange. His sister would have loved this. Everything looks as if it has been preserved in amber. In silence, he watches as the couple exchanges their vows. It feels as if he is just a shadow, locked out of Yuma and Kotori’s special world. Perhaps it was better for two humans to be together instead of a merman-turned-human to be with a particularly thick-headed human. 

  “Thank you,” whispers Kotori as she takes the ring from Shark’s pillow. 

  Yuma avoids Shark’s eyes as he takes his ring. 

  “Thank you, Shark,” he breathes, his voice barely audible above the sea breeze. 

  Shark’s heart twists, threatening to break in two. 

  Once the rings are exchanged, the newlywed couple pulls into a chaste kiss. 

  “THAT’S NOT HOW YOU DO IT!” yells Akari, the princess. “HOLD HER AND DO IT AGAIN, YUMA!” 

  In spite of everything, Shark laughs along with everyone else. Tears fill his eyes.

  “Alright, alright! Stop embarrassing me!” snaps Yuma. 

  After a few moments of breathing in and out, Yuma pulls Kotori into a longer kiss. Applause ripples across the ship, punctured by Akari’s loud whistling. 

  “She’s only like that because she’s a spinster. She’s really excited to welcome you into the family,” whispers Yuma afterwards. 

  “I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE SAYING ABOUT ME!” 

  More laughter fills the air. Shark looks out at the waves below, wondering if anyone he knew was looking up. 

  While everyone else gathers beneath the deck for more festivities, Shark stays above, drinking in the fresh sea air and listening to the seagulls above. He watches as the sun sets, his eyes growing misty as he remembers the quiet moments he and Dusky had shared beneath the waves. Perhaps he and Dusky could have shared the rest of their lives together. Although merfolk were not known for their fidelity (due to their eternal lives), it would have been…lovely to have had someone by his side for a few centuries or so. 

  He doesn’t know if he could stand all the books and Dusky’s seemingly disorganized lifestyle, but an understanding could probably be reached. Then, once they wished to part ways, they could return to being friends. 

  A fresh wave of tears fills Shark’s eyes. They fall into the waves below, returning to their origins. He should have been kinder to Dusky. He should have noticed the pain in Dusky’s eyes whenever he spoke about Shark’s desire to become human. Beneath his friend’s anger was fear and sadness. His friend must have spent moons searching for the least painful spell for him. 

  Shark’s tears fall until the stars have filled the sky and the waxing moon appears. The amber ocean waves have once again turned into a roiling, foreboding mass. Shark wonders why Yuma was drawn to such a place on his birthday. Below deck, the sound of music and cheering continues on. 

  “Shark!” calls a voice from his dreams. “Shark!” 

  Shaking his head, Shark looks down at the waves. 

  “Over here!” calls Medaka’s melodious voice. 

  Shark rubs his eyes and follows his sister’s voice. Surely, he must be dreaming. When his sister and Dusky’s pale faces surface from the black depths, Shark jumps. His mouth is wide open in shock as they gaze up at him. 

  “Dusky told me everything. He even cast a spell on a flock of seagulls to keep an eye on you!” hisses Medaka. “You idiot!” 

  The memory of Akari reprimanding Yuma fills Shark’s mind. A small smile fills his lips. 

  “This isn’t funny!” snaps his sister. “Look!” 

  Something shiny rises from above the waves. Shark stiffens as he sees the dagger and Medaka’s shorn locks. 

  “I traded away my hair and Dusky traded away his voice for you to be able to return to us.” 

  Horror fills Shark’s expression as he looks down at his best friend. Dusky looks up at him with haunted eyes. Regret must have been eating away at him throughout the entire time Shark had spent on shore. And Medaka…his sister, who had always prided herself in her appearance…Since mermaid hair never grew back, cutting it was considered a sign of mourning or vengeance. 

  “Don’t look at us like that! You got us into this!” continues his sister. “If you kill the prince and his wife, all you need to do is stab your legs and leap back into the ocean! Then you’ll have your voice back and everything else!” 

  Taking the blade from Medaka, Dusky reaches out towards Shark. 

  Please, he mouths. We miss you. 

  Tears fill Shark’s eyes. He reaches out for the blade and then his other hand reaches out for Dusky’s hand. Briefly, they hold each other’s hands, Dusky’s scales cutting into Shark’s skin. 

  I’m sorry, mouths Shark. 

  For what could have been. 

  “You can be back to us by dawn!” promises Medaka. “Then we can sing together again!” 

  Shark’s tears fall onto Dusky’s cheeks. Dismay fills Dusky’s expression. Pearls bead in his eyes. Slowly, he slips away from Shark’s hand. Desperation fills Medaka’s eyes, pearls also filling her eyes. 

  “Please…,” she breathes. “We miss you so much…” 

  Shark’s lips tremble. He takes the blade and slips it into his pocket. With a brief nod, he pulls away from the railing. Moments later, a handful of pearls are tossed at his feet. 

  “We’ll be waiting!” calls Medaka, her voice choked by tears. 

  Plish. Shark waits for the familiar sound of flippers slapping the water’s surface to subside. He cradles the pearls in his hands. Medaka’s are a light blue, just like his. Dusky’s are a greenish-gray. He places them in his breast pocket, where they roll against his heart. Then he walks below deck to join in the human festivities. 

  🎵

  When he’s certain that everyone has fallen asleep, Shark slips out of his bed and clutches the blade to his chest. Beside him is Yuma and Kotori’s room. In the darkness, the ship creaks out a lullaby. Slipping into the couple’s room, Shark follow’s Yuma’s loud snores and stops before the canopied bed. Gently, he parts the white curtains. At the end of the room, a porthole is opened, the cool sea breeze drifting in. 

  The breeze tickles Yuma’s bangs and the prince snorts. In his arms is Kotori, a small smile on her lips. They look so small, dressed in their white clothes. They were almost like two sea pups who were still unaware of the harsh world around them, slumbering in their mother’s womb. Shark takes a deep breath and raises the blade. 

  Yuma stirs in his sleep. 

  “Gee, grandma…that sure looks good…,” mumbles the prince. 

  Shark’s grip on the blade wavers. 

  When was the last time he had actually enjoyed a meal?

  The caramel apple, right? Seasoned with Yuma’s bright smile and his words of encouragement. 

  When was the last time he had actually felt alive?

  In Yuma’s arms, dressed in something akin to his opalescent scales, dancing on feet that finally obeyed him. 

  The blade continues to shake in Shark’s hands. His gaze travels to Kotori. Beneath the waning moonlight, she looks so young and small. She had nothing but kindness to offer to Shark, gently tutoring him over the human language. 

  Why did these two need to die so that he could continue to live? 

  He could plunge his blade into them, spilling their bright red blood across the pristine sheets. But the sight of their blood would always remind him of his sins. Merfolk and humans bled the same color and laughed at the same things. They loved, cried and hated similar subjects. What right did Shark have, denying this happy couple these emotions? 

  Shark places the dagger back in his pocket and takes out a folded piece of paper. He pulls the curtains closed and places the paper by Yuma’s bedside. In the morning, they would understand. 

  Stepping back on deck, he watches as the first rays of dawn color the sky. It is silent, save for the waves brushing against the ship. He takes a deep breath. The breeze stirs his curls about. On bare feet, he walks across the deck, noticing the debris from yesterday’s activities. A crumpled flower. Scraps of fabric. A puddle of spilled champagne. Humans…so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. 

  Yet the emotions they felt in turn were so raw and full. 

  He puts his leg over the railing, boosting himself over. Beneath him, the water is still a swirling, dark mass. Looking up at the sky, the moon is slowly setting. 

  “No happy ending, sweetie? That sure bites, doesn’t it?” calls an unfamiliar voice. 

  It sends a chill up Shark’s spine regardless. There was something so…cold and slimy to it, like holding onto a panicked lamprey. Slowly, Shark turns around to see a shadow peeling itself from the walls. 

  “We’ve met before but you probably don’t remember,” drawls the shadow, amethyst eyes glittering in the dark. 

  With a wave of his hands, it feels as if a weight has been lifted from Shark’s throat. 

  “You can speak now. We’re between the pages.” 

  “Who are you?” asks Shark, surprised to find his voice again. 

  The man steps out of the shadows. Unlike anyone else he’s seen before, this man is colored in shades of gray. Shark lets out a small gasp. 

  “Just…a little helper…You see, many years ago, I also experienced a similar problem as you.”

  He reaches behind him and pulls out a large book, similar to Dusky’s tomes. He places the book on the railing with a thunk . Flipping to the middle of the book, the man’s sharp finger lands on an illustration of Shark and Yuma. In the amber light of the sunset, they gaze into each other’s eyes, rings encircled around both of their fingers. 

  “You see, you were supposed to end up with princey-poo here but because of karmic imbalances, the ball was passed to a lucky village girl!” explains Vector. 

  Shark gazes at the illustration in pain, the urge to slash at it with his blade overwhelming. He reaches into his pocket only to find that the blade has vanished.

  “Looking for this?” asks Vector as he waggles the blade in front of Shark.

  “G-give that back!” exclaims Shark as he reaches for the dagger.

  Vector tosses it into his hat, which opens up its mouth.  

  “Oh, no, it’s served its purpose. You were never going to kill him, were you?” drawls Vector over the sounds of the hat munching on the dagger. 

  “I…”

  “It’s not your fault. I promise. It’s the fault of undeserving heroines like that village girl, sucking up all the happiness in the world without balancing their karmic deeds out first,” snarls Vector. “So people like you and me have to suffer.” 

  “Suffer! Suffer!” hisses Vector’s hat. 

  Reaching his coat pocket, Vector places a card into Shark’s hand. 

  “Before you leap into the ocean and reincarnate again, I want you to stay and listen for a bit,” says Vector as he walks down the steps. 

  A distant snap sends the waves crashing against the ship and the heaviness growing back into Shark’s throat. Vector’s footsteps echo below deck. The sound of a door opening follows. Shark closes his eyes and keeps his ears open. 

  Vector enters Yuma’s bedroom on silent steps. He pulls the curtains open. 

  “Wakey wakey…,” he sings. 

  Kotori stirs awake. When she sees Vector’s gray face, she jumps. 

  “Who are you?!” she shrieks. 

  Yuma jolts awake and looks at Vector with widened eyes. Giving the royal couple a mock bow, Vector flashes his trademark grin. 

  “ You have been a very, very naughty missus,” says Vector. 

  His hat coughs up his list of targets and he runs his finger down the list. 

  “Lady Kotori Mizuki, 18 years old, a wealthy merchant’s daughter. Incurred a karmic imbalance by attempting a happy ending,” reads Vector. 

  “What are you talking about?!” demands Kotori. 

  “You knew that Shark loved Yuma and did nothing to help him!” snarls Vector. 

  “What could I have done?!” protests Kotori. “Mermen can’t love humans!” 

  “Did you really understand him then?” sneers Vector. He looks at Yuma’s fearful expression. “Did you?”

  “I…”

  Grabbing Shark’s letter from the table, Vector shoves it into Kotori’s hands. His hat coughs up a candle and a box of matches. Vector lights the candle and glares at the couple with bulging eyes and bared teeth. 

  “READ IT!” he screeches. “BOTH OF YOU!” 

  With shaking hands, Kotori forces herself to read the note aloud. The handwriting is clumsy and the spelling isn’t perfect. Immediately, she knows that Shark had written this. 

  “D-dear Kotori and Prince Yuma…,” begins Kotori. “My time on land is drawing to a close. I wish you the best in your lives. You have taught me much about human lives, all your joys, pains and loves. To become human, I relied on my dearest friend’s help. I’ve known him for centuries and he knows everything there is to know about me. He traded his heart and voice away to see me walk on land. Even now, he is silent, hoping for my return in vain. He loves me just like you love each other. I wish I could have seen that sooner. 

  Wishing. That’s all I can do now as the sun rises on the first day of your married life. If you had been free to choose, who would you have chosen? I would have still chosen Yuma. There were so many things I wish I could have told you two. If only there was more time. Beneath the waves, I had all the time in the world and wasted it. Now, as a human, I want nothing but time. 

  To become human, my tail was sliced in half, my blood dyeing the ocean red. Every step I took was filled with pain, as if I was stepping on glass. But I wanted to be with you, Yuma. You, who had awakened from my slumber of a thousand years. In your hands, I felt alive again. If only I could speak and tell you everything on that beach. There were so many things that I left unsaid. My dreams, my secrets, my love of the human world…I would have told you everything. 

  Every smile of mine hid so much pain. 

  Is this what it means to be human? Wishing, wanting, yet never achieving all of your dreams? You will always be wanting something, that want driving you on. 

  It’s a sad, yet beautiful existence. 

  As I return to the sea, I will keep you in my thoughts. Whenever you see bits of seafoam on the shore, think of me. 

  Shark.”

  The couple looks up at Vector with tear-filled faces. Vector readies his rifle. 

  “Well?” he breathes. “Any last words?” 

  “I’m sorry,” chokes Kotori. 

  “Shark…,” utters Yuma. “Oh, Shark…You should have taken me with you that night.”

  Vector sneers. 

  Yuma’s words bring tears to Shark’s eyes. Two bangs makes Shark jump. Vector’s footsteps once again fill the hallway below. The sun is beginning to rise. Looking around, Shark notices how dawn and sunset appeared quite similar. It was beautiful. He wonders how he had never noticed before. 

  “You’re free to go,” says Vector, splotches of blood spattering his otherwise gray ensemble. 

  Shark looks at him warily. Then he glances down at the card.

Vector Happy☆Heroine☆Sniper Associate of Lord Diêm Vương, Karmic Balance Department

“You wanna start over or try to get a happy ending in this world?” asks Vector. 

  Shark tries not to think about the familiar screams that preceded the bangs. The thing strapped behind Vector’s back lets out a thin trail of smoke. Beneath him, the ocean waves roil, licking at his toes. 

  Without another word, Shark leaps into the waves. For a moment, he is overcome by a burning pain. Then, he feels his skin bubble and fizz, as if he was being kissed by a million tiny plankton. Before his eyes, his limbs scatter into seafoam. He would have panicked, if not for the hazy calm that clouded his thoughts. The last thing he sees is Vector’s oddly tender smile. 

  “Good boy,” drawls Vector. 

  Shark’s soul flies into the peachy sky, his world turning gray and distant. 

  🎵

  “Alright…let’s see who’s next…,” says Vector, slurping on some egg noodles.

  “Next, next!” chirps his hat. 

  “You got it,” says Vector, feeding his hat a few noodles. 

  He flips to the newest fairytale and then lets out a low whistle. He was going to be traveling pretty far for the next one. Unfamiliar lands…unfamiliar names…the thought at once puts a pit in his stomach and excites him. Checking the clock, he shrugs. There was still lots of time before his next trip. Leaning back in his chair, he rests his legs on his desk and looks up at you. 

  “How about we get to know each other a little bit more?” he asks. 

[bby-gay-space-princess]

another giant post nobody asked for

on the Mother 3 OST,the song I keep thinking about most is Phantasmagoric, both in what's happening when it plays and the meaning in the name. spoiler-heavy, this is literally about the ending

if you know me don't read this unless you wanna think "huh, he's gay AND stupid AND weird" I promise there is nothing of substance here

So, first up I tried looking up the definition again and it looks like the definition I loved earlier wasn't in the first 3 places I looked lololol. The definition that I think fit best was "having the surreal, incredulous, or horror-like feel of a dream."

I think that fits best with the song bc that's the epitome of what you're seeing on-screen. Lucas has been told by so many characters that he's doing what he has to, and that this is going to save everyone rather than leaving the last needle and hoping nobody else with the power of PK LOVE does the same. Throughout everything he's shown that he does have the right heart to do this and stop the world from being completely destroyed, but this is all coming from people who heard the legends told from long before anyone saying them were alive.

He pulls the needle, the song plays, and you're sitting with uncertainty that this was the right thing to do. You're seeing the last living part of the world fall apart before your eyes, hoping that everything turns out right because what else could have been done? Let Claus pull the needle? Walk away and hope it the needle remains untouched forever? Stop playing the game and leave everyone and everything unresolved and abandoned? Playing Mother 3 after obsessing over Undertale 9 years ago really made me consider the meta context of what playing the game means, which adds to the slurry of emotions that play out as you're watching the consequences of actions: yours, Lucas', Claus', Porky's, Flint's, Hinawa's, everyone you've met in this game and fought with, against, and for.

So you're sitting there, wracked with indecision, hope, horror, and the bittersweet knowledge that this is the end. Even if not for the characters in the game, still the end of your ability to make a difference and your ability to see what happens. Whatever is going on in this moment is going to happen and you're unable to stop it, just watch as their world is torn into pieces as the dragon underneath the island awakes. Watching as all the places you've visited are falling apart at the seams to make way for this dragon that you're just hoping has the same kind heart as Lucas despite the uncertainty of legends that were made for a story long before anyone can remember on an island that was otherwise abandoned by the world forever until some time 15-20 years ago.

Every time I listen to it I tear up, if not full-on bawl my eyes out, from remembering what all happens when this plays as well as how incredibly well the song itself pulls the emotions it's meant to. It pulls the phantasmagoria, the dream-like wonder and horror, like it's a lullaby trying to ease you into a dream where your brain is stuck making the chemicals that cause wonder and fear. Stuck with raw emotion and your own imagination to fill in the gaps. Cutting occasionally to different melodies as if you're being shaken from one dream to the next. Not a smooth unseen transition, just suddenly in another place and time with the same feelings as before. A new setting for the same story you're still playing out.

The phantasmagoria of it all also plays well into the bittersweet feelings of the end of the game. What happens with Lucas and Claus, what's happening to the world, what's happened with Porky, none of it is a clean-cut "this is a happy and good end for this story." It's all tinged with bittersweet, it's all imperfect and at least a little sad while knowing that this was still the best way it could've turned out.

I think it's a nice mirror for the bittersweet ~everything~ about Hotaru in Sailor Moon. She's struggling to stay alive in a body that was forcefully brought back from the brink of death, fights against Mistress 9 to try and stop her from destroying the world and killing the few friends she's finally managed to make, struggled since the accident to keep back Sailor Saturn and the looming threat that she entails for the world, and in the end she manages to help stop Mistress 9 and keep her from taking over her body, but dies in the process leaving Sailor Saturn in control to finish the prophecy that comes with her reawakening. To finish the prophecy that "when Sailor Saturn awakes, the world will fall silent with the fall of her scythe." Just like all those millennia ago when the Moon Kingdom fell, she used her scythe and the kingdom went silent as the Dark Kingdom destroyed it.

And then Saturn rises, Hotaru has died, but Saturn still remembers Hotaru's life and all the misery, the joy, and the love she had for her father and Chibiusa. She doesn't use her scythe to end the Earth, but the invading planet instead, and lets Usagi and the others know that she's not just the guardian of death to bring destruction to everyone and end the world: she is the guardian of destruction as it comes to the circle of life. The same way that living things die and nourish the earth and living things in nature, she plays her part in that cycle to bring about rebirth. That's why her attack isn't just "big ultimate final death boom" it's ribbons, a play on the word "reborn" to bring an end to what's currently alive so that what comes next can come and thrive.

All that off-topic rambling to say: it's similar in that bittersweet "the world we're in must end to make way for what is to come" kinda way. It doesn't mean everyone and everything has to die, but it doesn't mean that it will all survive either. There's uncertainty and fear and hope. And in an ironic way, relief too. Relief in the sense of the fights and struggles that we've been facing are over. Relief in the sense of "whatever happens can't be worse."

And that bittersweet feeling is something that I've come to really enjoy in a weird way lately. Mother 3, Robot Dreams, Yinu's story in No Straight Roads, Giegue's story in Mother and Earthbound, they're all tinged with that feeling and the complicated way our hearts handle it. There's something comforting about it, about knowing there is no one perfect way to live happily ever after forever. About knowing that all the ups and downs on the rollercoaster of emotions we're all going through is okay, and that you're not alone on that ride.

Phantasmagoric does a great job at portraying that. It gives the perfect feeling of a dream you're being shaken around in from moment to moment, watching in wonder and horror as the pieces fall in/apart around you. It gives that sense of comfort that while you're watching this all play out that there's still hope at the end, that maybe despite what you're seeing that there is still a chance for everything to play out for the better.

Idk man ramble ramble blah blah blah buh buh Mother 3 blah blah stupid little thoughts blah blah happy Earth, Wind, & Fire day go watch Robot Dreams

[anchors-x-away]

Bella’s Capture

Bella gets snatched up <333 F in the chat bro

——

Sakiko leaned against the edge of the stern, watching the sea below. The sun beat down on his face, not that he cared much. It just reminded him how he was just sitting there, doing nothing.

“Ain’t nothin’ to do on this boring ship,” he sighed, an irritated look passing over his face. He turned, walking across the deck. The only person on top with him was Ty, who was whittling away at a piece of wood.

Just as he was about to go below deck to see whatever the others were doing (as it seemed to be the only thing he could do at the moment,) he heard someone vocalizing. He found it strange because, one, no one on the ship sang regularly (not unless you count David singing Ty a lullaby once in a blue moon, but his voice did not sound like that.) And especially not that well. Sakiko ruled out any men singing, and soon the women as well. It definitely couldn’t have been Ty because, well, he was 15 feet away, focused on some wood, and the voice was far too feminine.

Sakiko’s eyes widening as she rushed to the side of the ship throwing his head over and scanning the waters. He watched. Waiting. Listening.

“…My name it is Maria…” he saw a tail rush somewhere under the large boat, and he realized he was hearing. He had heard that line and it was only one thing: a siren’s call.

Sakiko gritted his teeth as he turned, bounding over to left side of the ship. “The devilish thing is trying to throw someone overboard,” he muttered angrily, yanking the hung up harpoon. “Cap’n kill me if she found out I used this but who cares,” he rolled his eyes as he loaded a large harpoon into the barrel, picking up two others as he made his way to the right side again.

“A merchant’s daughter fair…” the voice was clearer this time, and he looked down to see a face appearing out of the water, bright red hair hard to miss. He took aim, hand shaking ever so slightly. “And I have left my parents, and €3000 a year…”

“Perish,” he uttered, letting the harpoon shoot out the gun. He got a bit of kickback, stumbling back a bit as he bent down to load another one. Just as he was putting it in, he caught Ty standing next to him. “Back up kid. It’s not safe.”

Ty blinked at him before turning back to the water and pointing. “But the lady is singing. Papá said that’s bad, if she’s this close to the ship.”

Sakiko looked to where the kinder was pointing, which was straight down, and realized that the thing had gotten closer. “Kid, back up!” Ty’s eyes widened at his tone, but did as he was told.

“Come all you pretty fair maids, who every you may be,” the siren reached her hands up as Sakiko aimed and missed, again. He blinked rather rapidly. Attempting to gain his foot as he tried to grab the 3rd harpoon. His vision blurred and he could feel his mind slipping. “Who love a jolly sailor, that plough the raging sea.”

Sakiko took aim, body wavering as he did. Someone was practically screaming his name, but he didn’t really register it. He leaned over board, getting ready to shoot. He was about to shoot when—

He fell in. Literally—he dropped the gun, and fell foward, crashing in the water. Every moment he tried to keep himself conscious, he failed.

—

Bella watched as Honda’s boy came crashing down, right below the water. She watched as the boy who was next to him ran off sobbing, probably to go get help (which was pointless, because the man’ll be dead before anyone gets there.)

“While up aloft in storm, from me his absence mourn,” she sang, swimming down to where the man was, who had plummeted at least 10 ft due to him being dead weight at this point. “Who firmly pray arrive the day, he’s never more to roam.”

She pushed him down further, watching the air leave his lungs and the color leave his face. His eyes rolled back slightly as he seemed to be unconsciously gasping for non-existent air.

“Foolish Honda,” she thought as his chest started glowing brightly. She watched as the white, blue and purple (and maybe some red, but that was expected,) from his soul left his body.

Bella was finally going to get revenge. She couldn’t care less about any other human soul, this was the one she wanted (or at least was the closet she could get to the one she really wanted.) “My heart is pierced by cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,”

She was almost there. Almost.

“There is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold.”

——

The last thing David expected was his son to come down into the navigation room wailing about how the Chief Mate had fallen overboard because, quote, “a red haired lady with a tail was singing and he fell in.” Next thing he know he, his son, the captain and 3 other members were clambering up to the top of the deck.

“Where?! Where did he fall?!” David yelled, searching for the man. Ty pointed a little ways away and David had his coat off, ready to jump in before Nya stopped him.

“It’s too dangerous, we’ll have to use a net to fish him out! You could be killed!” She said, attempting to pull him back. David wriggled out of her grasp, throwing a leg over.

“Yeah well, there’s not enough time. And I’m the most likely not to be affected—I’m mostly blind and one of my ears is shot, so I’ll be going in.” With that, David dove in, choosing to ignore the protest of his crew mates and captain.

He looked around, eye scanning for some form of Sakiko. He found himself looking at a bright glow coming from below, and made his way down. He had also managed to grab one of the harpoons that were in the water, that were probably used in an struggle of shooting the moaning sea creature.

“My heart is pierced by cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,” He swam faster at the sound of the song, knowing it was coming to an end. The figures becoming more defined as he did. He held the harpoon up, and launched it with all of his strength.

The harpoon shot past them and put a gap between the two. The siren stopped singing and let out what was probably the most unholy shriek that graced his only good ear.

That seemed to snatch Sakiko out of his trance because he started flailing about, probably because he was on death’s door (and his soul was pulling itself back into his body.) David was quick to snatch him up, moving to swim to the surface. The siren let out another shriek and quickly pulled on David’s leg. The man kicked her in the face (inwardly apologizing because he was against hitting women,) and swam back up, breaking the water and reaching the surface.

The crew already threw a rope down and David quickly tied it around Sakiko’s waist, to which he started be hoisted up. David waited for another rope, until he was yanked under again. The siren let out a shrill cry, his eyes widening at her violent face.

He struggled against her hold, kicking with all his might. Just as she was about to make an attempt at his soul, another body hit the water. David turned and saw it was Sakiko—he had a net and harpoon in hand (which wasn’t ideal for him because he had always used a gun.) Almost immediately, the sirens attention was on him, and Sakiko chucked the harpoon, nicking her arm and hitting part of her tail.

David grabbed her arms while she was distracted, while Sakiko pulled the net over her head. Both men worked it quickly over her body before she was yanked out of the water.

—

David climbed over board, sopping wet. He watched as Sakiko glowered at the tied up sea creature, a face of absolute hatred present.

“You tried to drown me,” he sneered.

“And I’d do it again!” She hissed.

“I’ll kill you—“ Just as he whipped his gun out, he felt a hand push it back down.

“Don’t,” Nya said, examining her body. “We’ll keep her alive for now.”

Sakiko tried to protest, but it was to no avail. He scoffed, walking off as the other members watched the siren’s every move. Just as he was about to head below to his room to change, he heard David call his name.

“Honda,” David said, picking up his crying son. Sakiko turned his head to peek behind him. “Try not to do that again. You damn near died and scared me half to death.”

“No promises,” Sakiko said simply, turning his gaze back to the sea and shaking his head, heading down below.

[othernaut]

I don’t know, man. Maybe I was over it as a teenager, when being into a band returned pop-media articles about the color and tightness of the lead singer’s pants, when enjoying a movie meant shot-by-shot inspections and deep-dives into the history of everyone on the crew. Maybe it was earlier, when reading through one battered fantasy book in the school library invited you to consume every piece of the 13-part story in order to get the full picture. And maybe it was later still, well past the point where you could expect to get shunned for admitting you played D&D, where walls of dead-eyed Funko Pops poorly simulated every minor character in every show I liked.

But there was a point where I noticed it, and I couldn’t go back from there. Money’s always a part of the dream, it’s a part of every dream, but you do almost expect the thing to stand on its own sometimes. You draw your little pictures of star-shrouded maidens with silver-fox stoles studded with dragon fangs, and people ask you where it’s from. “Nowhere at all,” you say, because while it’s part Sailor Moon and part Dragonlance and part Lord of the Rings, it’s nothing definite from anything. It’s inspiration, not permutation. No one will ever draw it as a Disney princess; it lives in a binder on your floor.

I like things, sure. I like things enough to tattoo them on my body. I think about Elden Ring in the shower. I lay back before bed, idly wondering what would happen if Harrier du Bois and Duncan Wu got into a buddy-cop thing together. But I don’t think I’ve ever had a fandom, the way I see people have fandoms. The things I love are part of my identity, I can’t deny that, and I’m not secret about it. I’ll go at you for hours about the subtle fabulism of The Neverending Story. But I’ve done all the consumption that I want to do. The love is there; I can hold it in my hands and feel the weight of it. I don’t need to look up the post-movie career of every actor in the film. I can just love it as it is. The active part of love is done.

Because there is undeniably a part where the outside world picks up on the seismic power of adoration and turns it into marketing. Because there was a point when I noticed it, and I couldn’t go back from there. The strings connect everything now. I walk through a world that’s become a mall, where it’s not enough to love a thing without making it a significant part of your identity. Great and formless machines spin to life behind the paperwhite screens of pocket spies that each of us paid to be there, and they guide your eyes toward the vinyl and the cardboard and the sugar that looks like the things you love. Where the love is small enough, light enough that it’s not worth the marketing, people will fill in the gaps. If you can’t eat a cupcake shaped like a Rock Chewer’s face, then look at this Furby someone made to look like Falkor.

I don’t think I’ve ever needed these things to be everywhere I am. I’m never going to be finished, as a person, polished and complete - there will always be room for change, and change necessitates new attachments. I think of how I would have to alter my mind in order to fold up around the things I already love like a flower, like curling around a wound, and I can’t see how I would ever get there. And part of it is prideful, and part of it is mourning. Somewhere in my reticence is a mole of disaffectation, of an intentional pulling-back, of unwillingness to devote my whole self recklessly to a thing that has been sold to me. Because it does hurt, when I see the thing done again, sold again, with profit in place of the dream. I can hear the echo ringing through the hollow of my love when I tap my fingers against its surface.

I will always have a copy of The Neverending Story with me, everywhere I move. It’s my oldest friend. I will always be willing to discuss the characterization of the antagonists in The Legend of Korra; I will always have a D&D story ready to burst out at the slightest provocation. But I don’t want to put it in hashtags. I don’t want to use it to drive engagement. And I don’t want that to be all that people know of me. I don’t want to be categorized by obsession, as that makes any other affection look like betrayal. I want to write my little stories, stories where the heroes have hair like Sailor Saturn and pants like David Bowie, that carry pocket Palantiri that speak with Vetinarian pragmatism, something above and below and beyond and derivative of so many of my kaleidoscopic loves that, when you squint, it looks only like itself.

I would be very, very happy to never be sold another thing.

[umbrellatori13]

So...when are companies gonna shine some light on the other magical girl series and take a break from being the Sailor Moon 24/7 shopping networks?

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

With Fire and Blood, and the Darkness in Between

Darkling/General Kirigan/Aleksander Morozova x Targaryen!Reader

Part 2

Shadow and Bone and Game of Thrones crossover

Part 1

A/N: Part 2 is finally here lovelies! Just wanted to provide some backstory for the character before she meets General Kirigan in the next chapter. I hope y’all enjoy! As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated, I love hearing you guys’ thoughts! 💜💜💜

Summary: Imagine being the youngest Targaryen and the half-sister of Daenerys. You had lived most of your life in captivity, shut off from the world after your brother Viserys married you off to an old lord at the age of 12 as means to get rid of you for being a half-breed. You used to be a bright and free-spirited child who saw nothing but the goodness in those around you, but the experiences you faced made you grow cold and distant with a lack of remorse for the wicked. Not wanting to live the life your brother had chained you to, you ran away and finally reunited with your sister and helped her win back the throne. (Season 8 never happened) Wanting to build a life of your own, you set sail across the seas with your dragons and army, traveling far and wide before venturing into foreign land in a place called Ravka where you stumble upon a kingdom with a king who you loathe, believing him undeserving of rule. During your stay there, you cross paths with a certain raven-haired general with aspirations of his own. Will you stand alongside him in his mission, or will you take the throne for your own and rule as Y/N Targaryen, the Dragon Witch Queen of Ravka?

Warnings: vulgar language, mentions of rape and abuse and suicide, mentions of abuse against a minor, mentions of incestuous themes, violence and gore, sexual themes. This series will have some dark themes so please read at your own risk.

Notes: slow burn, angst, enemies to lovers trope. Flashbacks are in italics. Current time is in normal font.

Day had turned to night, and all the light that remained of the rays of the sun touching upon the earth, had disappeared into blackness like the life you just left behind. You had remained by Ser Bjorn Maurinus's side that entire evening, seated on one of the wooden crates as you stared out into the pitch black depths of the sea that not even the moon itself was able to cast it's light upon.

Your hands were tucked into the pocket of your dress, the wool fiber of the fabric irritating the softness of your pampered skin as your fingers played with the glass vial that Sir Bjorn had given you. Contemplating the event that was ever so quickly dawning near, you had half a mind to throw yourself into the ocean and let the obsidian waters consume every last ounce of your very being. And though you so desperately longed for those cold hands of death to wrap it’s claw like fingers around your heart and tear it out, your thoughts only ever returned to your sister who would only be waiting your return until death itself stood in front of her.

You had attempted to strike a conversation with the forbidding Braavosi whose resemblance you found to be similar to a hawk, but your words only fell on deaf ears, for the man had not uttered a single response in your direction, his expression as stony as the last. And so you sat in silence, shivering against the cold ocean breeze that felt like daggers across your cheek, with nothing but the furs of your cloak and the howling of the wind to keep you company.

"M'lady." you heard a gruff, slightly slurred voice from behind you, turning around to see that one of Lord Pythias's men had approached you, a small lantern held in his grimy hand and a piece of dried beef in the other. The small yellow flame kept within the lantern illuminated parts of his face in almost a ghoulish manner, darkening every line and indentations that marked his skin. His face and overall appearance was poorly kept, as was with many of the sailors and the men aboard this ship. His hair, like sticks of straw, thinned at his scalp before dropping down to his shoulders in a knotted mess, and his clothes hung loosely about his frail body as if they recently belonged to someone of a much larger size. His beady, yellowed eyes roamed your tiny frame as he chewed on the piece of meat like a dog would on a bone, flashing his blackened rotted teeth and his swollen gums which you had noticed as signs of scurvy from the books you came across from your days spent in the library back home. "Lord Pythias demands your presence."

You twisted your lips at the sight, clutching your cloak closer to you from his gaze before quickly searching to Ser Bjorn for any kind of support in the matter, but the man only looked ahead at the darkness of the sea that mirrored his dark eyes. "Alright." You nodded, refusing to meet the sailor's eyes, making sure to steer clear of him as you made your way over to the chambers of his lord while your mind remained ever so focused on the vial in your pocket. The ship swayed amongst the waves beneath your feet as you maintained your balance, but the prying eyes and snickers of the men around you made you cower, wanting to fall right through the wooden boards beneath you.

The world seemed to close in around you as you brought your hand up the door that separated you and your unworthy husband, the very thing that would soon dictate how tonight and the rest of your days would end as you shut your eyes in a small prayer to the gods. You had never thought yourself to be a religious person, but in this moment where it seemed as if the whole world was waiting to devour you whole, you plucked out whatever faith you had left in you, begging the gods to your aid before rapping your knuckles lightly against the slab of wood. "May I come in?"

"You may."

The room was dull and lifeless as you entered, lit only by a few candles that somehow seemed to darken the area despite its purpose, as if it were sending you a warning about the dangers you would soon face. You could not help but scrunch your nose in disgust at the dampness of the air once you stepped in and closed the door behind you; the smell of sweat and mold reeking heavily about. Lord Pythias was stationed at the foot of his bed, finishing away his plate of bread and dried meat, wearing nothing but a cotton tunic and his trousers. Twisting your lips at his mannerisms, from the crumbs falling from his mouth and bouncing off his big belly before falling at his exposed and hairy feet, to the sound of the smacking of his lips that echoed across the room convinced your ears to want to tear themselves from your head.

Lord Pythias gave you a once over, licking off his sausage-like fingers before beckoning you over with his grubby hand. “Come here.”

You hesitated, your nails digging into the skin on your palms as you compelled your legs to move from their stubborn place despite no matter how much you wanted to run in the opposite direction away from him. Slowly, you made your way over to the man, your each step seemingly smaller than the last while your eyes remained glued to the wooden floor. Your footsteps resonated in the chamber until his hand landed a heavy strike to your cheek, catching you completely off guard as the sound echoed through the silence of the room.

“You will answer me with m’lord. Is that clear?”

The burning left over by the strike of his hand spread through your face as you stared at the floor for a moment, frozen in shock with your hand pressed to your stinging cheek. You could have sworn your nails were going to tear through the skin of your palm as you forced yourself to look up at him with misty eyes masked by the rage behind them, your voice small though every inch of your skin burned with the urge to slit his throat. “Yes….my lord. Forgive me my lord.”

“Now fetch me a glass of ale there on the table.” The man let out a loud and heavy burp before setting the plate aside and wiping his hands off at the front of his tunic, his hands leaving stained streaks of yellow from the oil that coated them as his bulging eyes watched you hungrily as you walked away. “And when you’re through with that. I want you to undress yourself.”

“.......Yes my lord.” You muttered in response with your back facing him as you wiped away the hot tear that fell down your cheek. Your hands shook as you uncorked the warm bottle of ale, pouring the amber colored liquid into his goblet and remembering what Ser Bjorn had told you at your wedding feast. Just a single drop. Slowly, you ever so slightly turned your head to make sure he wasn’t looking in your direction. Seeing that he was currently preoccupied with undressing himself, you slipped your hand into your pocket, pulling out the small glass vial and staring into the slightly tinted liquid, your eyes distant with the thoughts that filled them. Damn you Viserys, damn you and your ambitions.

You found yourself wanting nothing more than to return home, even preferring to be in the presence of your brother than here with this vile old man. At least back home, you had your sister. Here, you had no one, not a single soul. You were alone, a Targaryen alone in the world. Popping open the cork, you let a single drop fall into the cup before returning it to your pocket, watching the potion ripple out like the clouds of an oncoming storm. Swirling the contents of the goblet in your hands and watching the potion disappear into the drink, you headed back to where Pythias sat on the bed, disgusted and terrified with his naked appearance. After all, you had never seen a man unclothed before, nor was it something that you wanted to see in the first place. With trembling hands that thankfully went unnoticed, you handed him his goblet, watching the man lift the cup to his lips.

Lord Pythias tilted his head back, downing the drink in one go. And as you expected it to soon be over, that you would be able to taste just the smallest amount of your short-lived freedom, your heart skipped a beat as he grabbed your wrist roughly, yanking you closer to him. "I thought I gave you an order, little bitch."

“P-please.” Tears once again formed in your eyes as you tried to twist out of his hold, but his large clammy hand only grew tighter around your delicate wrist, his rough fingers like sandpaper against your skin while his other hand seized the fabric of your dress in an attempt to tear it off.

Thump! Ba-thump!

Came the sound within the confines of your mind, repeating against the violent throbbing in your head.

Thump! Ba-thump!

You could not tell if it was the chamber door or the beating of your own heart that enfolded your senses as the terror within you only increased. Your heart pounded rapidly by the minute, growing steadily against the silence around you. Trapped between your panic-stricken fear and the strength of the man more than twice your size, there came this sharp pain that felt as if a thousand needles had pierced through your ribcage, as if your own heart were to burst through it’s cage. Your skin dropped in temperature, loosing all warmth as you began to tremble.

You were beyond terrified, unsure of if you would scream or vomit at the situation at hand between the spiked drink and his nakedness and the fact that he was still conscious. In fact, you tried to scream, but not a single sound escaped the hollowness in you. Even if you did, who could have heard you or would even come to your rescue. No one. And that fact alone filled you with dread. You began to fear the potency of the potion that Ser Bjorn had given you, wondering whether it would do what was promised in order to protect yourself from this man before you. You were frightened of what would happen if it did not work, of what were to happen to you. What if it were a test? What if there was nothing in that vial in the first place and that this was all just a test of your loyalty to your new lord?

But your hopes were soon granted, for as you stood, you watched Lord Pythias sway in his seated position, slurring out something incomprehensible as his eyes slowly shut before his large body fell back on the bed in a deep sleep. A breath that you had kept in this whole time was finally released from your lips in a trembled silent cry as you stepped back from the bed with staggering steps, your eyes glued to the sleeping form of the man who was just a second away from assaulting you.

A small glint against the candlelight had caught your attention, and as you turned towards it, you found Lord Pythias's small knife sitting almost invitingly upon the table. You gazed upon the blade in a tranced state as if it were calling out to you, beckoning you to it. Your mind jumped to complete desperation as you returned your attention to the sleeping form of Lord Pythias, listening to his snores rumbling through the emptiness of his chamber. Refusing to leave your eyes off him in fear that he would stir from his state of unconsciousness, you closed your fingers around the handle of the knife and clutched it tightly in your sweaty palms. Your breaths heaved in your chest as you neared him with the blade raised above you, the room seeming to darken around you until a hand covered itself over your mouth.

Your eyes widened at the contact, feeling an arm wrap around your midsection as you tried to scream, but your voice was only muffled as the intruder yanked the knife from your hands and set it back on the table before lifting you up and carrying you out from the chamber. You thrashed violently against the individual, your arms flailing about as you tried to tear away at him, but your efforts came fruitless as he only held you tighter, dragging you out before taking you away to a darkened corner of the ship. His hands loosened around your torse to toss you to the floor, and as you fell down to your knees, you looked up at your captor to see none other than Ser Bjorn standing above you with a scowl on his thin lips.

"You?" You gasped, bringing yourself up to glare right back at him. "What was that for?"

"Have you lost your mind GIRL?" Ser Bjorn bent over to hiss at you, grabbing you roughly by your arm and pulling you further into the darkness, away from the prying eyes of the immoral men that lurked about the ship. "What in the seven hells did you think you were doing?!"

"I was trying to kill him." You scowled.

"With what?" Ser Bjorn let go of your arm with a scoff, straightening up his tall frame as he did so. "A dinner knife? Has the girl even held a blade before?"

"I want him dead!"

"Oh? And what then? What of the rest of the men here hm? You think one dead fuck is going to keep the rest of these cunts from doing anything to you?"

Your lips twisted into a frown, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill as your voice grew quieter, your frame shrinking in the shadows casted by the small lantern hung up on of the posts. "I just........I want to go home. I.....I-want to go home."

"There's no going back now girl.” Ser Bjorn spoke firmly, looking pathetically over your trembling form before ushering you to be quiet as he pulled something out from behind him. "Here, take this."

You glanced down at the item in his hand; a small dagger. You had recognized the simple yet intricate blade at his hip when you first saw him approach your brother at the hall. “But it’s yours.”

"Take it girl." Ser Bjorn exasperated at your hesitation, gritting his teeth as he did so.

You gave the man a quick look, observing his serious expression with distrust before taking the dagger from his hands, pulling the blade out from its sheath to stare at the shine of the sharp metal. "Why?"

"For when the time comes that you may need it. But use it you will not."

"What do you mean? How am I not allowed to use it?"

"The potion you will use daily when necessary."

"But that doesn’t make any sense-“

"You will do as I have told you. Does the girl understand?"

"But-"

"Does the girl understand? I will not be saying it again." Ser Bjorn glowered down at you, his obsidian eyes boring into your own.

".........Yes." You muttered out with a tight jaw, wondering whyever he would bother to help you despite being of alliance to Lord Pythias and being the cold hearted man that he was.

"Good. Now rest. The journey ahead of us is long." The Braavosi turned his back to you, returning to his speechless state. Not a single ounce of emotion had passed through him during the whole conversation, not even a shrivel of empathy, just as when you had first met him.

Being the stubborn young girl you were, you let out a huff of air, sticking the small dagger into the belt of your dress before finding a spot in the corner where there sat sacks of flour stacked upon the floor. Laying yourself on top of the rough burlap sacks, you brought your knees up to your chest with your back facing Ser Bjorn as he stood watch. You clutched your cloak closer to your small frame to protect yourself against the coldness of the night air that you were not used to, shivering as you shut your eyes and finally released all the anger and all the despair that you had locked within to keep yourself from appearing weak. Your face became wet from your emotions as you curled into a fetal position, using the fabric of your cloak to muffle out your cries as you let the tears of your worries drown you to a deep slumber.

The sun rested high amongst the pale blue sky, nestled between the porcelain clouds like a drop of gold in a field of cotton. It’s rays shined down on the city in streaks of gold as you sat on the grass that covered one of the hills overlooking the sea, watching the ships depart and arrive at the wooden docks of King's Landing. The cool breeze blew against you, blowing back the loose strands of your hair that framed your face from your elaborate braids as you listened to the bells that rang out through the city. You could almost taste the salt of the ocean air upon your tongue from where you sat in the distance, your small leather bound sketchbook spread open on your lap and your stick of sanguine chalk held between your fingers as you tapped the end of the chalk lightly against the parchment.

In the distance, there came the sound of something above you, a flutter of wings about the air and an echo of a screech. And as you looked to the sky, squinting against the sun as you did so, you saw your two dragons drawing near, the large span of their wings blanketing the area in shadow as they soared down to the ocean. You smiled at the sight, watching the siblings play with each other while others stopped to stare and point at the large beasts that were once thought to be extinct. For once, you felt at peace. And yet, the past always seemed to find its way to haunt you. You had been much too preoccupied, your mind focused on your drawings as you failed to notice someone approaching your spot, the heels of their boots crushing the grass beneath them.

"I thought I might find you here."

“Dany.” You turned at the all too familiar voice, seeing your sister with the wind blowing through her silvery blonde locks, a warm smile on her face.

“I was beginning to worry. I had not seen you since dinner last night.”

"I'm sorry.” You set your pencil down, turning to face her as she stood next to you. “I didn’t mean to trouble you. I just....haven't been feeling well. Thought I might come out here and relax my mind for a bit.”

"As long as you're caring for yourself." Daenerys placed her hand on your shoulder as she watched the ships and your two dragons with you before glancing down at your sketches of the wooden vessels and your other sketches of the dragons, admiring the life like details you had put into them. “You’ve gotten better. I remember when you used to draw on the walls until you found your hands on some parchment.”

“Well, I was a little girl then.” You chuckled.

“And look at you now, grown into a beautiful young woman with skills that I could never dream of or accomplish.” Dany looked down at you as she softly stroked your head, running her fingers through the thin silver streak of hair similar to her own that had formed at your front strands, a stark contrast to the rest of your hair. You never really did explain how you got it, that silver streak of hair, except that it just appeared one fateful day.

Her heart swelled at seeing you now, seeing how much you had grown in both spirit and age since she last saw you. And though the two of you were only a year apart, she would do anything to protect you like the older sister she was. You used to be such a soft spoken little girl, one who had always bent to the will of others, one who was constantly pushed around by those stronger than herself. And here you were now, a woman who bent herself to no man and wielded her own sword and survived so much to find your way back to her. A woman who had even led her own battles while fighting her enemies at the forefront. And there was nothing that made Dany happier than to have such a strong and spirited woman as her sister.

"Gods. It's been so long hasn't it." You muttered out in a soft breath, thinking back to the day where you were sold off like cattle by your own brother and torn away from your only sister. "It feels as if it were just a year ago when I set foot on that ship and was shipped off to the north."

"Hm. It has been a long time indeed. But you're here now, with me, and that is all that matters." Daenerys caressed your head lovingly before placing a kiss at the top of your head. "Come, supper should be ready soon."

Wiping off the chalk from your fingers, you closed up your sketchbook with a snap, wrapping the suede string around the leather binding with your chalk tied to it before slipping it into the pocket of your coat dress. Interlocking your arm with your sister, the two of you walked through the small field to return to the castle, making your way to the dining hall.

"The redecorations are coming along nicely." Daenerys spoke up from beside you.

"Thank the gods." You sighed. "Anything but the ghastly décor that Cersei had left. What she had done with the castle walls is blasphemy. The place needs more color, more plants, more…..life. I want to feel at home, not like I’m stuck in prison.”

"Well I’m sure you’ll find the newer decorations to your liking." Daenerys chuckled at the passion behind your eye for the arts.

"I trust your judgement sister." You patted her forearm before facing the path ahead of you, focusing on the stone steps that led up to the castle. And as you lifted your gaze, an enormous smile appeared on your lips as you saw a familiar head of dark curls up ahead that belonged to none other than your dear friend. "Jon!" You left your sister's side to quicken your pace and engulf him in a hug.

"Oof.” Jon grunted against the impact as you almost knocked him over before pulling away to beam down at you. “It's good to see you too y/n."

You twisted your lips in a teasing scowl, punching the man playfully in the chest as if the two of you were children. “Back already I suppose. Where did you leave off to in such a hurry huh? You didn’t even wish me a farewell.”

“Well I had to see my cousins, make sure everything is settled in the North.”

“How are Sansa and Arya and Bran? Are they well?”

“They’re well. They do miss you.”

“You did tell them that I miss them as well, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Jon smirked, “it’d be a crime not to.”

“Alright you two.” Dany smiled at the sight as she stepped up between you both, placing her hands on both your backs. “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.”

By the time that you had finished your supper and remained on your glasses of wine, mostly everyone had left, leaving just you, Jon, Dany, and a very drunken Tyrion who volunteered to share his delightful stories.

“And I said to him…..” Tyrion slurred out, squinting his eyes and pointing his finger in front of him as if the man he had confronted earlier at the market was standing right before him. “……..and I said to him….”

“Well what did you say to him Lord Tyrion?” You quirked a brow at the man on the opposite side of the dining table as you raised your goblet of wine to your lips, sending an amused look to your sister who sat on the end of the table next to you.

“I’m getting there.” Tyrion wagged his finger at you before returning to his story. “So I said to him……….” He stopped, confused for a brief moment as he turned to you. “Wait, what DID I say to him?”

“I’m afraid I do not know. And I’m afraid we STILL will not know until you tell us Lord Tyrion. So please, enlighten us.” You answered with a smile, eliciting a soft laugh from Jon who sat on the other side of Daenerys, across from you.

“Now don’t get smart with me.” Tyrion rolled his eyes in a teasing manner. “Ahah. I remember now. So…….the man comes up to me…………insults me to my face about my height…….calls me an imp. And I said to him…………listen here you half wit………I may be small………………..but your cock is merely an arms length from my fist, remember that.”

“Oh gods.” You rolled your eyes, throwing your head back as soft laughter broke out at the table before Tyrion went on with another story.

Your thoughts drifted off as you sat at your seat, your face illuminated by the candles on the table as well as the ones of the chandelier above. Your fingers traced along the rim of your silver goblet, your eyes glued to the wine resting motionless inside like a mirror of crimson, it’s deep red liquid bringing you back to your past.

Days had turned to months when you had arrived to the North at Lord Pythias’s manor, a land that was completely foreign to you, a land in which you knew no one except for Ser Bjorn, though the man never spoke much. Each day you spent inside the odious stone walls of the manor was as cold as the next, and each night the same as the last; a glass of ale and a drop of the potion from the vial, and an unconscious Lord Pythias that allowed you to protect yourself from his hands and his immoral intentions.

In the time that you had spent away from the old man, away from everyone, you would stay confined in your room. And at night, when the moon was high and when everyone was asleep, you would sneak off to meet with the Braavosi, who had offered to train you in the art of the dagger. And each weary night you spent training and sparring with him, each night leaving you scraped and bruised, you became more skilled than the last, when at last you were the one to hold the blade to his throat. And in that moment, with you standing over him, the sharp end of your blade pressed to his neck, you could have sworn you saw a hint of a smile on the face of the man who remained ever grim.

But one night; one cold, moonless and windy night had changed everything. You were in your room, dressed in your nightgown while you braided your hair, preparing yourself for bed until you heard someone slam open your door and barge into your room. Startled, you looked through the reflection of your mirror, thinking it was one of the maids when your heart dropped at the sight of Lord Pythias stumbling into the room, more drunk than ever. You did not know what had happened. You gave him the potion, you were sure of it. You could not understand why the effects of the potion did not take place that night. Perhaps he had built an immunity to it, you would never know. But everything that happened next was a blur, like a smear of chalk across one your sketches.

You remembered him pinning you face down on your bed, crushing you beneath his weight as he held your wrists together behind you. You remembered screaming, your face and the mattress soaked with your tears. You remembered his hand pushing up the skirt of your nightgown as he struggled with the button of his pants. And then, as of some strange occurrence, something stopped him before he could do anything. You could not figure out what had spawned within you. Next thing you knew, you were on top of him with his throat slit, the dagger that Ser Bjorn had given you held tightly in your hands, your white nightgown and your skin covered in his blood, soaking the mattress beneath you as you stabbed him, over and over.

What came over you, you had no knowledge of, nor could you remember. You tried to tell yourself that it was purely fear, that you were just a scared young girl of age 12 who protected herself against her attacker. But your reflection in the mirror; your face painted red and the faintest flicker of an ancient flame behind your eyes told you different. And yet, the strangest part of it all, even more so than your very reflection that haunted you to this day, was that the dagger was nowhere within reach, tucked away in the drawer of your desk.

“Lady y/n………..lady y/n.” You heard Tyrion call out to you, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Hm?” You blinked, turning your attention back to the present.

Daenerys had noticed how you had zoned off just a moment ago, recognizing that familiar scrunch towards the middle of your brows and the way your eyes glazed over as you became lost within your own thoughts. You felt her place her hand on top of yours, her fingers sending you a reassuring squeeze, to which you returned a smile that meant you were alright.

“You didn’t…….hiccup….listen to a word I said did you.” Tyrion waved his finger at you, a sly smirk on his lips as he let out another hiccup. “Or is it……………Princess Y/n now, considering…………your sister is……….officially queen.”

“I am whatever you wish to call me, Lord Tyrion.”

“Don’t say that.” Tyrion gave you a stern yet puzzled look. “That……..just gives others an excuse…….to call you nasty names………..something you might not like. So princess……or……..your royal highness it is!”

“I think you’ve had enough wine for tonight, Lord Tyrion.” You chuckled.

“That!” Tyrion started, “…………is entirely true, I will not deny. After all………what kind of a man would I be…………….to deny myself being drunk. To deny something as obvious as being drunk………..is to deny other things.”

“Always the wise man with the wise words.” You gave Tyrion a soft smile.

“That………is also true.” Tyrion started to get off his seat. “Now, if you would as to be so kind………..Princess y/n…..to walk me back to my chambers before I make a further fool of myself.”

“Of course Lord Tyrion.” You smiled, sending Jon and Dany a look that meant you won’t be long as you walked Tyrion back to his chambers, making sure he did not fall over in the process.

By the time that you returned to the dining hall, a slight sway in your step as you held your hand up to stifle a yawn, you walked in on Jon and Daenerys speaking to each other in hushed tones, the two of them halting their conversation upon seeing you enter, their eyes following you as you returned to your seat.

“You two weren’t gossiping about me were you? If so, I’m afraid I don’t have my tea with me.” You teased, a smirk playing on your lips as you sat back down on your chair. You quirked a brow in curiosity as you saw them give each other a look that usually meant that something serious had to be discussed, a look that you had seen often many times before. “I know that look. What is it?”

“There is something you ought to know.” Daenerys spoke up as she looked at you, her manicured fingers lightly drumming against the table as she was unsure of how you were going to react to the news. “Something we have not told you.”

“Oh?” You eyed their expressions carefully as you straightened up in your seat, taking another sip of your wine. “What is the matter?”

“Jon and I……”

“You’re in love, I know.” You interrupted with a smile, holding your hand up before setting it down on the smoothness of the wooden table. “There’s no need to tell me. I’d have to be either blind as a bat or a complete fool to not notice the…longing looks the two of you share. Not to mention the amount of times I have caught the two of you sneaking kisses-“

“Y/n….” Jon cleared his throat, embarrassed with the fact that you had caught the two of them together, not once, but multiple times.

“Jon is a Targaryen.” Daenerys finally spoke.

You froze, staring at Daenerys as if she had uttered the most absurd thing known to man.

Daenerys and Jon watched your face with the utmost observation, their skin turning cold from your lack of response as they waited for something, anything from you, but all they were met with was silence on your end. You had only sat still, unmoving like one of the statues in the garden.

“……….what?” You spoke out in a whisper, your voice almost inaudible as you let out a laugh of uneasiness. “Is this some sort of a jest?” Your eyes traced over the features of your sister, trying to figure out if she was playing some form of a twisted trick or whether either of you had too much wine even though you only drank a cup, but the seriousness of her countenance spoke enough.

“Y/n.” Jon sighed, knowing not only how much it must come as a shock to you, but also how you might feel utterly betrayed by them keeping such a thing from you. “My father was Rhaegar Targaryen, and my mother Lyanna Stark. My real name is Aegon Targaryen.”

Aegon Targaryen. Jon was the son of your eldest half-brother Rhaegar. So the stories you heard were false.

“It…..it can’t be.” You shook your head in disbelief, finding it hard to fathom that Jon, the man whom you have known for years, your close friend, had been your kin this whole time.

“Y/n you know I would never lie to you.” Jon looked at you, knowing how much it pained you to hear of this now as you stared back into his dark eyes.

You let out a laugh, a smile appearing on your face as you were not quite sure how to respond or even feel about the matter. You were shocked more than anything. “You’re……..you’re a Targaryen.”

“I am.” Jon blinked, slightly confused at the brightness of your face. He could not quite figure out how you felt about what had been revealed. Were you…..were you delighted with the news?

“Well that’s good yes? That means Dany and I aren’t the last two remaining Targaryens. When did you find out?”

“During our time in Winterfell.” Daenerys answered, her gaze ever so trained on your face as she watched how your eyes darted in thought.

“Winterfell? You’re……you’re telling me this now?” You let out a scoff as you stood up from your seat, pushing your chair back with a loud skid against the floor as you moved to pace about the room. “Why did you not tell me then?”

“We meant to tell you earlier.” Jon frowned.

“We were afraid of how you would have handled the news.” Daenerys watched you from her seat, her violet eyes following you as you still paced slowly about.

You started to play with the ring on your finger, the pads of your fingertips running over the grooves of the silver band and the gemstone that sat in the center. Your mind was reeling as you tried to piece everything together, from the stories you were told and how many of them turned out to be lies. It all started to make sense, Jon being a Targaryen. Laughing in disbelief, you turned to face them once more, but your face dropped as the sudden realization came to you. That meant Jon was your half-nephew, and Daenerys, oh gods, that made Daenerys his aunt. “Seven hells.” You breathed out, unable to prevent your lips from twisting into revulsion as you pointed between the two of them, knowing fully well that they slept together. “You two……gods……but the two of you……oh I think I’m going to be sick.” You held a hand to your stomach, pressing your other hand to the table to keep you up as you bent over it.

“Come now y/n.” Daenerys scoffed at your reaction. “I admit it came as a shock to me as well. But it’s not like it is anything foreign within our family. After all, our own father married his sister, and our grandparents and ancestors before them. Even I thought I was to marry Viserys when I was a little girl.”

“But Dany, this is wrong.” You exasperated before turning Jon. “Jon, are you not a bit……I don’t know. Does this not disgust you?”

“Y/n, I understand how you might feel about this.” Jon tried to calm you down.

“You’re her nephew! Dany, you’re his aunt! You do understand that don’t you?”

“Now don’t try to act like you’re better.” Dany stood up from her seat, offended by the way you were treating her as if she were suddenly beneath you and that the whole issue was completely out of your own bloodline despite being a Targaryen yourself. “You yourself were married to a Sta-“

“Don’t!” You snapped with a flicker of your eyes, your hands shaking at the mention of your late husband as a frown made its way on your lips. “You really should not have said that.”

“Y/n-“ Jon stood up from his seat, his heart sinking from the reminder of your husband’s death as well as the expression that now settled in the features of your face.

“I…I can’t deal with this right now. I can’t believe you would mention him Dany.” You stood up, your heart tearing apart though you held your chin high, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill.

“Y/n please, let’s sit down and talk about this.” Jon gestured.

“No.” You spoke firmly, your jaw tight. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go clear my head.” Avoiding to meet their eyes and ignoring their calls, you stormed out of the dining hall, leaving a worried Jon and a rather displeased Daenerys.

“Don’t worry.” Jon put a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Let her think this through on her own. I’ll go check on her.”

It was not long till you barged into the confines of your chambers, slamming the door behind you with clenched fists as you pressed your back against the wooden door. Your chest rose and fell with each heavy breath that felt like daggers in your lungs as you plopped down at the edge of your bed, burying your head into your hands as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your frame trembled as you became trapped within a whirlwind of emotions that tore themselves at you; from the shock of learning Jon’s true lineage, to the affair between your sister and him, to your sister bringing up your late husband’s name, to being confused about your own marriage. The last two had hit you the hardest, striking a blow against you, especially when it was something you tried so desperately to forget. Learning of Jon’s connection to you made you question the relationship you had with the man you loved and married. And the more you pondered on it, the more you did not know whether to feel horrified or heartbroken.

You wanted to leave, to pack your things and set sail far away from Westeros and disappear from the land that only reminded you of all that you had lost. Your soul yearned to start a new life for yourself, to gather your dragons and live a life free of pain and torment and war. And yet, a small part of you, the Targaryen blood that ran through your veins, desired to gather your army and lay claim to land that has yet to be claimed, to build your own kingdom. You had even begun to pack some of your belongings, your luggage tucked away under your bed to keep out prying eyes that might turn a single utterance of a word into a string of gossip. But more importantly, you were unsure of how to go about telling your sister and Jon that you wanted to go away, to travel to foreign land that one has not seen, without the slightest idea of your return. Nor did you have the heart to tell them.

There was a soft knock upon your wooden door, drawing you out of your thoughts, and as you turned towards it, you saw Jon enter, his face filled with concern at your weeping figure.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to be left alone.” You turned your head away to hide your glistened face.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” You huffed out, wiping away at your tears as you straightened yourself up.

“Well you don’t look fine.” Jon sighed as he took a seat next to you, your bed sinking slightly from the weight. “Look, y/n, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Hmph. Who would have thought you were my nephew this whole time even though you’re older than me.”

“No one. Not even me I suppose.” Jon chuckled softly, his eyes cast downwards. “I’m sorry that Dany brought him up. I’m sure she didn’t mean to.” He apologized, knowing how much it pained you to be reminded of him, especially with how you still blamed yourself to this day for his death.

“I just……..I miss him so much.” You sniffled, not being able to stop the tears that now flowed freely no matter the times you wiped them away. “Gods, I can’t even say his name nor think of him without breaking into tears.”

“You loved him very much, you still do.” Jon smiled, seeing that you still wore the ring that was given to you at your wedding, your actual wedding. “And he loved you. I’m sure if he was here right now he’d tell you just that. He would tell you how proud he is of you, to see how far you’ve come and how strong you were. And being the person that he was, he would brag to the world of it, of how his wife led an entire army and helped win back the throne in her family’s name.”

A small smile formed on your lips at Jon’s words, a smile that held more sorrow than gaiety as you imagined he would have said the same exact thing. “I just…..I wished there was something I could have done, then maybe he would still be here and maybe……” you reflected to the night of your husband’s death as your hand moved over to place itself at your stomach, your fingers grazing over the groove of the scar hidden underneath the fabric of your dress.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself.” Jon comforted you, placing an arm around you as you leaned into him, wetting the fabric of his coat with your tears as you cried onto his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault.”

As the two of you sat there for a moment, mourning the memory of the man who was not only your husband but also someone that Jon himself had shared a strong bond with, your thoughts began to once again drift off to the past, of the day that you first met the man you would grow to love.

The night of Lord Pythias’s death, Ser Bjorn had arrived swiftly to your chamber with his sword in hand upon hearing the sound of your screams as he feared for the worst, but what he came across was not quite what he had expected. His face remained still as he unraveled the scene before him; Lord Pythias lying dead on your bed with his throat slit as multiple stab wounds lined his chest. And then there was you, huddled up in the corner covered in his blood, your face expressionless and the dagger that the Braavosi had given you held tightly in your hands, and the hint of a flickering of a flame behind your hollow eyes. And in that moment, that is when Ser Bjorn knew.

You looked up from your dazed state, seeing Ser Bjorn stand over you with your cloak and a bundle of clothes in his hands as you suddenly remembered the dead lord on your bed, thinking you were going to get executed for your crime. “Ser Bjorn. I’m sorry I-“

“Quiet.” He threw the clothes down at you, keeping an eye on your door in case any of Lord Pythias’s men decided to show as he handed you a rag. “Wipe your face and put these on. Quick.”

“But these are boys clothes.” You looked at the dark muddy colored wool tunic and pants with skepticism, not really understanding what the Braavosi had in mind.

“Do as I say GIRL.”

You wanted to ask the Braavosi what he was getting at, to understand just exactly what plan had formed in his mind as he carefully went over to your door to scan the hallways. But you decided against it, thinking twice about asking any questions at a time as threatening as this.

With your brows etched in dread, you threw the clothes on top of your nightgown, lacing up your boots before tying the leather belt around your waist and sticking your dagger in it, making sure to wipe your face with the rag to the best of your abilities while Ser Bjorn kept a lookout.

“Hold still.” The man ordered as he turned you around, using a knife to cut off your braid as your felt your hair fell down to your face.

With widened eyes, you reached a hand back, feeling your hair now end at your jaw instead of your lower back before glancing at your reflection. It was now that you realized what Ser Bjorn had in mind, a plan to disguise you as a boy in order for you to escape with your life.

“Now listen carefully girl.” The man turned you around, placing his hands on your shoulders as he did so. “You’re going to head farther up North until you reach the walls of Winterfell. There you will meet a man of the name Ned Stark. Tell him I sent you. Stay on your feet and DO NOT turn back.”

“But what about you?” You frowned, tears of fear forming in your eyes as you stared into the dark eyes of the man before you, the eyes of a man whom you might not see again.

“Do not worry about me. I taught you to use the dagger, now use it. Remember girl, valar morghulis.”

“Valar dohaeris.”

Ser Bjorn gave you a push towards the door. “Now go.”

“But-“ Your lip quivered as you became overwhelmed with fright, the fear of once again being left out on your own settling within your bones like a disease.

“Go!”

Giving Ser Bjorn one last look, you ran out from your chambers, making sure to lower your head as you hurried through the hallways and out the building, leaving the warmth of the fireplace that was in your room and being faced with the cold wintery air of the North. You did not know how far or how long you ran, but all you could remember was the ache in your legs, the pounding of your heart and the adrenaline that rushed through your veins as you kept moving, running through the woods in the middle of the darkness that belonged to the night, the branches of the trees slicing across your face until you no longer set foot in Lord Pythias’s land.

Night had turned to day, and all the energy and strength that flowed through you when you left the manor had now diminished, leaving you exhausted and begging for rest. But no matter how much your eyes drooped, or how much you wanted to collapse on the dirt beneath you, you remembered Ser Bjorn’s words. ‘Stay on your feet and do not turn back’. And so you did as much as your feet allowed you to. You began to worry on what could have happened to the Braavosi since you left, praying to the gods to keep him safe and that you would soon meet again. And as you trudged along, your boots and the hem of your cloak caked in mud, your face showing signs of weariness and your lips chapped from the lack of water, you heard the snap of a twig behind you. Turning around, you saw three older men approach you from the distance, their appearance as unkept as the dirt beneath their feet.

“Well what have we here?” One of them smiled, flashing his poorly kept teeth. “What are ye doing out here boy?”

“Ya think he’s one of the Stark boys?” The other man nodded in your direction as he gave you a once over.

Stark boys? That must have meant that Winterfell was near.

“Are you a Stark, boy?” The first one spoke, eyeing the clothes on your back before becoming irritated from your lack of a response. “You deaf, boy? Or just mute”

“He don’t look like a Stark.” The third of the group shook his head, his eyes roaming your person as to search for any signs of coin or wealth. “You got anything for us boy?”

“Stay back!” You pulled out your dagger from its sheath, barely able to hold the blade out in front of you from the lack of food and water as your heart beat rapidly in your chest while the men only laughed.

“Now what exactly are you going to do with that, huh little boy?” The first one laughed as he eyed your dagger. “Hey, that’s a pretty knife. I think I’ll have to get me it.”

The man who seemed to be the boss lunged at you, his hands held out in front of him as he tried to grab you. Remembering Ser Bjorn’s training, you stepped off to the side, slicing the man across the face as you did so.

“Agh!” The man grunted in pain, pressing his hand to his face before bringing his hand down to see his blood coating his palm. “Why you bastard cunt! You cut me! Get him!” He shouted at his two men.

You nearly tripped over yourself as you faced the other direction you were originally headed, running as fast as you were able from the three goons that chased you down. Your legs felt as if they had turned to wood as you sprinted once more through the thicket of trees, your each step seeming to get more heavy than the last as you kicked up the dark mud from beneath you, your clothes only starting to weigh you down from the mud that clung to it. And as you darted through the trees, fearing that you lost your way and that there was no escape to this endless maze of your fate, the sharp branches grabbed ahold of your cloak, tearing it from your body as you ducked beneath the trunk of a tree that had fallen over.

Turning your head back, you saw that the men were starting to gain on you, their faces furious from your attack on their leader. You tried to push yourself to quicken your pace, to keep going until you reached the land that Ser Bjorn informed you of in hopes of your own survival, but to no avail. No matter how hard you tried to outrun them, you were at a disadvantage. They not only outnumbered you, but they also overpowered you in both size and strength. You turned your head back to the front, facing the path in front of you until you felt something hook around your ankle. There was a harsh pull at your leg as you attempted another step, and as you looked down in horror, you saw that your foot had gotten caught between one the roots that belonged to the trees. With a gasp of fright, you fell down into the mud, letting out a scream from the sharp pain that suddenly spread from your foot and up your leg.

“There you are! You little bastard!” The leader hovered over you as you fought against him, grabbing you by the collar before bringing his fist down to connect with your jaw.

A snarl ripped out of your throat as you bared your teeth, the taste of copper filling your mouth as you ignored the throbbing pain in your face and your ankle once your fight response kicked in. Your tried to struggle against the man’s grip, scratching at his face in an attempt to gauge out his eyes like Ser Bjorn had taught you, but the man only swatted your hands away, hissing at the scratches you left behind.

“Agh! You fucking cunt!” The man barked, picking up your dagger that had slipped out of your hand from your fall, pinning you down against the mud as he held the blade up to your face. “You’ll pay for what you did. I’m gonna carve your face up like ye did mine.”

Your eyes widened against the sharp blade of the dagger, the terror in your eyes evident in your own reflection held in the shiny metal. The other two men surrounded you, watching you being held down with amusement in their smiles. Beads of sweat formed at your forehead, contradicting the iciness of your blood as you twisted beneath the weight of the man above you, watching the point of the dagger come closer, and closer. You tried to scream for help, praying that your calls would soon be answered and that someone might come to your aid. But there came no one. And it was in that moment, that you thought you might breathe your last.

A blood curdling scream tore itself from your throat as the man pressed the sharp point of the dagger into the skin of your forehead, dragging the blade over your brow and down your cheek, making sure to take his time as to provide you with as much torment possible. You squeezed your eyes shut against the excruciating paint that overtook your face, nearly passing out from the sensation. It was as if your body was close to shutting down. Your vision became blurry as a numbness circulated through every inch of you, your throat raw from your screams as you could no longer cry for help. You believed that this was it, that death had finally appeared himself before you as you looked up to see the man hold your dagger up above him, a rage filled grin on his face as he was ready to end your life.

“Please.” You rasped out in a desperate attempt, uncertain if you were speaking to the man who was about to kill you or the gods above. And then, as if your prayers were answered, you heard shouts in the distance, their voices muffled out by the fatigue that began to overcome you as you watched an arrow pierce itself through the goon’s shoulder. The man let out a yelp, dropping your dagger near your head as he fell off you. Time seemed to slow around you as you laid there, unmoving, your eyes glossed over as you listened to the clashing of swords. You tried to keep yourself awake, afraid that you would be no more the moment you shut your eyes until a figure hovered over you.

“H-help.” You breathed out, coughing from your own blood as the lids of your eyes grew heavier by the second as you slowly lost the will to fight.

“It’s alright.” You heard them speak. A boy from the sound of it as he called out for his father before turning back to you, a glimpse of soft brown curls and a pair of blue eyes that searched your face. “You’re safe.”

“H-help.” You spoke once more, the world around you fading into black as your ears picked up on his father calling out his name.

Robb.

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[husbandohunter]

What they love about you (part 1) [Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti x female reader

Part 2 here

(A/n): Okay okay I know I have some requests yet I decided to write something super indulgent. I'M SORRY! This past week I've just been writing so much angst *looks at inbox* AND MORE ANGST TO COME I really need that dose of Vitamin F(luff) 😭

===========================

Noctua's Heartbeat (Diluc)

For a man who had the whole world in the palm of his hand

With looks, fame and all the wealth he could demand

But what stole away his breath was something not to be bought

For it was merely the calming presence of your living and beating heart.

Your heart was a dignity born for empathy, so beautiful and magnificent with the kind of charm similar to white Cecilias blooming across Mondstadt's fields. Diluc would watch from afar, admiring their glow. It shines without reservation, blissfully unaware to a fault that he couldn't help but feel afraid knowing how the real world would simply pluck you from your roots and shape you in the way they wanted to. People who were tainted souls with tainted soles roaming from the shadows, constantly trampling on other's beliefs before leaving them to rot.

Ah but of course, Cecilias are wildflowers. No matter how many times they were stepped on, they could still withsand any force nature throws at them. Whether it'd be raging storms or scorching heat from the summer sky, you were the same through it all. Love. You were in love. You were in love with the wind, you were in love with people, you were in love with the world and everything that lives in it.

And so, Diluc wonders if that was the reason why everything suddenly began to shimmer.

He treaded on a path fated for loneliness while longing for the dawn to appear out of the night horizon-- where emotions once frozen until you came in to melt the ice. He blocked his heart but you tore down those walls. Diluc swore to never feel if it meant protecting himself and yet you held onto his shattered pieces tenderly, dearly, blowing the love of life and teaching it how to beat again.

Your heart was like a fountain of all the hopes he abandoned years ago and the dreams that no one had the courage to envision, cleansing everything within it's reach and freshening them anew. You were a being so in tune with your emotions that it sang through all that you did, laughing despite your obstacles and shedding tears when overjoyed, a single drop it was but still held the depth of the entire ocean. Diluc vows to protect you for your heartbeat was also his own. He'll gladly lay down his life because losing you deemed far worse than any death he could imagine.

~xx~

The other eye of Pavo Ocellus (Kaeya)

The knight's shining armour serves only as a disguise

When beauty from the surface is one's own demise

He used it to protect himself, decorating his words with pretty lies

But unmatched when facing against your truthful eyes.

They say the eye was an open window to a person's true colours. If that were the case then the painting inside him must have been an unsightly one.

Every once in a while the people of Mondstadt would speak about their Cavalry Captain's eyepatch, whether he was injured after being sent out on a mission or if he wears it for the sake of image. No one knows, it was rather unsettling, why someone would cover their eye despite not being injured. Secrets? Perhaps. Kaeya was known to be a man shrouded in mystery after all.

Your gaze was his Death After Noon. Sparkling upon the surface yet with the tasteful allure so captivating that it was almost dangerous. Just one glance and he was intoxicated, eventually leading to a slip of the tongue, revealing what was buried deep within his contaminated essence. Kaeya hated that you had the uncanny ability to see through his mask. Your innocence so contrasting, he felt like looking into a mirror, reminding just how much of an ugly person he truly was in comparison.

But mirrors are easy to break, no?

The thought delivers a sinister smile on his face. Pitiful-- is the state where you were. Pitiful-- it's what he is. How could he think of such things when all you offered was kindness? Unlike Kaeya, you were an honest person, always wearing your emotions on your sleeve and unaware of the devil's vicinity. He was tempted by the invite to crush you and run away like the coward he was meant to be. However as he stares deeply into your eyes he realized they weren't made of glass. They were gems. The most precious gems hardened by the pressures of experience.

In the shine of thine eyes resides the stars and the moon as if stolen from the Abyss, leading to the edges of the universe that was blessed within your mind. The look of curiosity filled with rich hues all held by a soulful stare while they pierced through the armour shaped around his heart. It was your ability to recognize beauty amongst the most wretched of things that he fell so hopelessly in love with you because for the first time someone had seen him-- his flaws and his faults, his abyss painted darker than black but loved him despite it all. As he drowns himself in the world of your gaze, Kaeya prays to never be the one who will steal away those stars or moon because they looked the most beautiful on you.

~xx~

The Winged Nemesis who flew towards the Sun (Xiao)

He looks at your face as if he saw spring for the first time

An unsual encounter, wondering how could something be so sublime

The yaksha stands upon the corpses while reaching for the sky

Seeing the sun in your smile that he wishes to fly

Xiao has dealt with the cards of death and won through many of it's games. But his life was a gamble as the karmic binds may one day bring the same fate that was done upon his comrades-- insanity, murder and corruption. So he swears an oath to his god and himself, ensuring the darkness only he could bear does not seep into the light.

A gust of wind sways in when you pass by, he was struck by pensive bewilderment because happiness was a feeling unknown to him. It was the expression you made whenever you greeted him good morning. The complexion you had while charging through life's challenges. And the face you wore even during the times where there was no reason to smile. Xiao has felt the might of the sun for her light will never be exstinguished by his darkness, he could only succumb to it.

But you were not just the sun, you were the flowers that bloomed beneath her heavenly sky and the birds that chirped upon those earth-like trees. You were a whole new world he didn't dare to touch because dreams were delicate and his cursed self would only devour them until nothing was left. Still, the mighty sun shines through it all, stretching out her rays like a welcoming embrace until the universe had been revitalized, giving birth to new life after winter's storm.

If pictures told a thousand words then he had a thousand reasons and more to love you. Xiao witnessed the sweetest joy decorated by pink petal blossoms dancing around him, the one who pulled him out of his spiraling trance of darkness. The breath he takes no longer felt suffocating and instead was replaced by the smell of nature's greatest gifts: you. Stay away, he says, because there were times where you shone so brightly that he had to look elsewhere. Your rays burned him and he thinks it might drill holes into his wings. Painful it may be but if the splendor of spring could only be admired after the harsh cold snow, then maybe pain and love were only two sides of the same coin.

A world without the sun--such unfathomable thoughts--is a death he does not wish to deal with.

~xx~

A song she sings for the God of Wind (Venti)

Man lives by the power of the tongue,

Whatever Man speaks is aligned with Man's choice.

Hearken when she talks for her words are to be sung,

Because not only was she lovely but so was her voice.

-Venti

There were many reasons why Venti loved music. The freedom to express oneself when words weren't enough, allowing one's spirit to flow out of their mouth and be with the wind. It was the feeling he had when he listened to you because your voice was sweeter than any song he sang or played.

When you speak it was as if the world around you danced, bringing them to the mercy of your stage. Like standing upon the soft grass while letting the sparks of dandelions dust against his own skin, Venti would close his eyes as he hears you speak-- it was you, just you and that was all he needed. He swears that no one in the world could sound as living as you did because it was the words you say that stole his heart away.

The vibration in your tone was fleshed with kindness yet so sure and firm to the point it could even bring a god to his knees. If he were a sailor then you were the siren, enchanting him with your bell-like voice and bringing him to a territory where he can never escape from. It was the spell of your divine song, his Carmen Dei, that tricked the trickster. Venti did not mind as long as he was able to feel the blessing amongst his ears.

[blackresin75]

The Heart of My Sea

TW: Choking, virgin reader, rough sex, loving sex, bondage, nipple play, oral (fem receiving), and overstimulation.

A/N: Hey so this is my first fic like this so please tell me what you think. My roommate did help me out a LOT @violinwizard thank you so much. This is for the Mythology and Folklore collab so please check out the others here. I have the masterlist reposted.

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Dad always tried to control where you went. He wanted you to stay in his sight when you weren’t with the others luring sailors to their deaths. You’ve never wanted to kill but it was your only saving grace from your fathers grasp, but maybe that was what makes the Captain of the Midnight Rose so alluring.

The main crew looked to be about the same age as you and your friends, they also looked more content in their place on deck. Your feelings of jealousy grew more and more as each ship passed by and sank. Maybe that’s how you ended up in this position, stuck in a net blinded by jealousy and rage.

You feel the coarse net grind against your skin as you struggle to get free. The thrashing around causes the net to scrape up your arms and your tail. No matter how much you squirm, The coarse fibers don’t budge. You feel the water sink below you as you rise up. Panic starts to set in your chest as the light from the surface grows brighter.

“Shit, shit! No no no no fuck!” The ropes cut deep into your skin as your thrashing grows desperate, you feel the salt water flow around your body. You break the surface gasping frantically, thinking of all the stories of sirens before, kidnapped and left for dead. You've seen the aftermath, but you never dreamed it would happen to you.

Your breathing soothes but the panicky feeling in your chest doesn’t leave. You can hear gruff voices, but you can’t hear anything outside of the beating of your heart and the surge of the waves. The panic becomes so immense that by the time you’re set down on the mahogany deck you are already too far gone

When you wake up, all you can see is the shadow of a man on the far side of the deck. At first, his eyes are all you notice, deep and black as the ocean on a new moon night. There’s a scar running under the left one, giving him a dangerous and rugged appearance. He is dressed as many of the sailors you’ve taken to the deep, loose shirt with a deep cut, betraying a strip of an almost well defined chest. His tight pants leave nothing to the imagination, while his long coat makes you wish there was more to see. A scarf hangs around his neck, the end just dipping into the V of his shirt. “I wonder what he would look like in the ocean, all wet and mine for the taking.” The thought comes unbidden and you quickly scold yourself, a blush forming on your cheeks . Someone clears their throat, taking you out of your daydream and you look around at the rest of the crew. Their glares make you look away, and you quickly turn your eyes to the man in front of you. He walks towards you, taking off his trenchcoat and drapes it over your naked figure.

“I’m bringing her into my quarters, if you need anything.” .He stares daggers at the crew, while his hair flies up and eyes turn red, “Don’t.”

With that the roguishly handsome man picks you up and takes you to a cabin below deck. He lays you back on the mattress in the corner of the exquisite cabin, then he leans up against the desk in front of the neat bed. “So, you got a name?”

“Y/n,” you hesitate, “are you going to hurt me, sir?” His eyes go wide, his body stiffens a little, and he bites his lip. Bringing a strong callous hand up, he gently takes a piece of hair and tucks it behind your ear.

“You think I’m going to hurt you?” His whisper carries straight to your heart, the amount of care in his words sends a shiver through your spine. “Well, y/n, I’m Shota Aizawa, I own the Midnight Rose. I know you’re not human, so what the fuck are you exactly? We caught you in the sea, maybe a Kraken, or mermaid, or perhaps a siren.”

His voice gets lower and his face gets closer, you’ve sung songs to sailors that promise their dreams. A lot of sex, but there were a few of just pasta; those songs are your favorite. You can now see the allure of sex and love just by looking into this man’s tired eyes. Instead of answering him, you opt to stay quiet. “Not talking? That’s okay, kitten. I have ways to make you talk.”

Your face darkens even more at his words, why is calling you kitten? What are his ways to make you talk? The panic returns in full force, he sees the fear and panic on your face and he walks over to the bed and puts a loving arm around you. You freeze, and he decides to rub your back, “shhh, kitty, it's okay. I’ll protect you now. I want to know what you’ve been through.”

His gentle reassurance surprises you, it's not everyday that you see someone so handsome and gentle. Someone who doesn’t want to treat you like a toy, but maybe that’s what made you want him to treat you like a toy. Just to see if he still would want you after or throw you back to the sea violated.

“You didn't answer my question, are you going to hurt me, sir?” You lean in closer to Shota. The tension starts to thicken, with just five words.

“Do you want me too?” Shota looks at you differently, he wasn’t malicious or terrifying. He pulls you closer, looking into your eyes, his breath taking up your air. The different songs flew through your head but only one thing felt right.

“I want you.” You lean forward and kiss him with your entire soul. You’ve never felt this way before, and from what Aizawa was reciprocating, he feels it too. The kiss deepens and a heat starts to form in your pussy and gut. He groans into your mouth and he pulls you on top of him. Feeling his hard cock against your pussy sends a shock that jolts through your bones. He grabbed your arms and started kissing where the net cut into your skin.

“I’m sorry y/n, I did this to you. I’m so sorry.” He kisses you everywhere he can touch, soft, loving kisses. When he reaches your neck, it sends shivers down your back, and a moan bubbles up in return. The shivers soon travel to your stomach, where his hands are caressing in full circles, slowly heading upwards. You can feel the rough texture of the coat on your nipples driving the sensitivity to new heights. Suddenly he slips the coat from your shoulders, and you hear it hit the ground at the same time his hand finally hits the swell of your breast.

His lips leave your neck, a whimper escaping your throat at the loss, which is immediately followed by his moan as his mouth closes on the peak of your breast. You feel his tongue circle your nipple, caressing it slowly, and you are awash with heat, striking to a forbidden place in your core. His tongue is soft, and wet, giving you a pleasure never felt before. He grabs your backside possessively, pulling you impossibly closer, you moan, grasping his shoulders in an attempt to keep yourself afloat in the rushing tide that is him.

In your state, you barely manage to gasp out a “Don’t stop”, and you clutch harder as he slowly starts to suck on the breast he is tethered to, his tongue still making tortuous movement. One hand lightly caressing your other breast, his other starts to slowly head downwards, mapping your skin, which has started to gather sweat. He gently nudges your thighs apart and begins to descend further into uncharted territory. Before he can reach his destination, he pulls back and meets your eyes.

“Is this ok?” He asks. Frustration hits you at the loss of his ministrations, and you grab him by the scarf, pulling him back to you, “Please, keep going”. You feel his smirk before he begins, this time on the other breast. His hand continues in your depths, to circle around a single point that opens a floodgate. You grasp him tighter, your hand going into his hair in pure joy, as his fingers continue at the same pace, tracing a whole new alphabet on your center.

You want more pressure, you begin to move with him, trying to encourage him to go faster. “Kitten” he admonishes, his voice low, “Do you need more?” You can only moan in response. His hand is suddenly grasping the back of your neck, pulling you away from him, the breath leaves your throat, and you feel as if you're floating, pleasure filling the space of total awareness.

He laughs, “Cat got your tongue?” You want him, want more, you reach out blindly, catching his shirt in the process. You want it gone, you tug, and it floats down beside you. You see his smirk turn sinister.

“You shouldn’t have done that. Do you know what happens when the Kitten gets the cream before she’s meant to?” He slowly takes the scarf off his neck, and before you can comprehend that you can see the sweat coating his neck, he has lowered you to the bed, the scarf wrapping around your wrists, tying you to the bedpost. Panic rises inside you, before it bubbles over, he slowly kisses you, passionately bringing the softer feelings from earlier back into the game. It calms you, enough to notice both his hands have pressed your thighs back to their open stance, and he is moving down your body, his chest heaving. You feel his breath on your lower stomach, his tongue taking just enough time to dip into your belly button before working further down.

The heat is back, flooding your senses as you feel his breath on your thighs where his hand is, you feel his tongue, followed by his teeth, lightly nipping, moving towards the place you want him most. You want to tug him close, but you are restrained from above, you consider thrusting closer, before he is there. You feel his breath on the most intimate part of your body, sending shivers to your very soul, and ripping the part of you wanting to escape away. He sits there making you wait, before you finally feel his tongue on that same spot from earlier.

It is somehow both cold and hot at the same time, and impossibly wet, adding to the sensual feelings bubbling up from inside. The soft tongue is a stark contrast to the nails on both your thighs. With each swipe of his tongue you are brought to new heights. Just left to moan and writhe on the bed, with no hard body to soothe the shivers. Finally his lips close over the nerves, and your soul is drawn from you and into him, you can’t stop moaning, arching off the bed, your feet finding solace along his muscular back. Your thighs crushing the head between them. He groans out, possessively grasping your thighs to pull you closer to the torture that is his mouth. You feel something else on your folds, one of his fingers, gently prying the opening to your depths, which you have just realized is dripping liquid.

His finger sinks deep just as his tongue passes over the top of the nub, and you almost scream, your breath rising, your vision gaining spots. His finger is joined by another as they twist and scoop, scraping against a part of you that sends pure heat to your heart, and your heart to the heavens above. He keeps striking the place inside as his lips pull your very being into him. Once you take a breath, twice, you rise from the bed. Thrice, you are screaming. And then you are falling grasping at the headboard above. You have spots dancing in your eyes and a fire in your belly. As a tsunami of pleasure ripples through you, starting and ending with the man who is still milking you into him.

“Shota, p-p-please” You moan, as you ride out your intense first orgasm. The pleasure comes in waves as Shota cleans you the mess you made with his insatiable tongue. As you come down from your high, he comes up by you and he kisses you with hunger. He slowly pulls away from you, bringing both hands up to cup your beautiful face. One hand gently caresses your cheek and soothes your heated face. He let his thumb wander to your plump lips and let it drag down slowly to see your bottom teeth. With your mouth wide open, he brings his hand, still wet with your juices, to your open mouth.

“Clean, Kitten.” You stick your tongue out a little and lick a small amount of your essence off of him. Shota groans as you lick his fingers coated in your slick. You love the feeling of falling off the edge for him, the world melts as he takes his fingers away and kisses you with full force. He puts the fingers back into your sweet, sticky spot, pumping in and out, until you could feel the heat return. You let out a small whine, “‘s too much, sir.”

He takes his fingers out and you whine again, not wanting his fingers to leave your heat. He lets out a small chuckle, “Do you want me or not? I thought you wanted me, we’re not even close to being finished.”

You let out another whine as he places his fingers back in your pussy. This time he starts with two fingers and quickly slips in a third, stretching you out. He kept pumping you full, hitting the spongy part in you multiple times. He takes out his fingers, hitting your swollen clit on the way out. You feel so close to the edge again. Not wanting the pleasure to stop, you try to bring your hand down to give some much needed friction to your neglected area. The headboard clicks against the wall of the cabin, reminding you of the scarf that ties you up. You glance down and see Aizawa pumping his full, slightly curved, cock, dripping with precum. The engorged tip is a flushed pink, you watch as he mixes your essence with his pre. Satisfied with the prep work, he comes up and grabs your hips, coaxing your legs to wrap around him. He lines up his length with your pussy, and looks at your panicked face.

“Kitten? Are you okay with this? Have you done this before?” His questioning is endearing, you’ve haven’t had sex before, but you know a lot about it. With all of his ministrations on your body, you don’t want it to stop.

“No, but I don’t want you to stop.” You share a breath with Shota, both of you not wanting to break the silence. He looks at you lovingly and whispers a kiss over your mouth.

“Okay, I’ll try to be gentle, Kitten.” His kissing gives you reassurance. He lines his swollen cock to your folds and slowly lets himself into you. The pressure is painful at first and the pain slowly changes to pleasure. You look down to where you are joined and see that only his tip is in. How is that possible? Is he even going to fit? You feel so full already but there is still more? “Shhh, it’s okay Kitten,” he wipes away a stray tear from the pain, “You’re so beautiful.”

He slowly puts more of his large cock in you, pain makes you cry out and squeeze your eyes shut. He caresses your hair, petting you and giving you praise as you take his entire length. As he bottoms out in you, you let out a wail that would put the banshees to shame. You both wait for your tight cunt to adjust to his size. Your chest heaving as you tap on Shota’s shoulder signaling him to start moving.

“I need actual words, Kitten.” You gather your breath and whisper a small yes in his ear. With that small yes, Aizawa kisses you temple and starts to move in your heat. You feel his cock move at an antagonizing pace, and you need more.

“More, sir-” Aizawa growls in your ear, it is already so difficult for him not to lose control and he doesn’t want to hurt you. When you keep calling him sir, the difficulty increases. He picks up speed slowly, moans coming freely from your throat and tears from your eyes. Every now and then he kisses the tears from your eyes and sings your praises.

“My good kitten, doing exactly what I need.” He starts to go faster and harder. Words and moans mixing in your mouth bubbling up to the surface, coming out as much of a mess as your cunt. You feel a coil of heat rise in your stomach as the tip of his cock pounds relentlessly into your cervix. Something was different about this edge, no longer was it the tsunami of pleasure like you knew it. It’s like being sucked into a whirlpool that doesn’t end, the feeling growing larger and larger until you let go.

You hear Shota shouting, “Fuck, I’m cumming, Kitten,” He kisses your lips, as you fall back into the whirlpool of pleasure. You feel thick ropes of cum coat your fluttering walls, you let the whirlpool take you completely. A clear liquid coats both you and Shota as you let out another wail. He looks down at the mess and back to your face. You both let out a little laugh, and he pulls down the covers of his bed. He grabs a blanket from one of the wardrobes and drapes it over you. He clambers into the bed and pulls you close.

“You’re so beautiful. I think I’m falling for you.” He kisses you. You’ve never been the one to believe in love at first sight, but with him, how else could you explain it? You have totally fallen for him since you landed on his deck.

“Shota, I think I love you.” You whisper.

“I think I love you, too.” He kisses your nose lovingly.

“Even if I’m a siren?” He looks at you and brings you into a hug.

“You’re the Heart of my Sea, I will always love you, y/n.”

[beelsnack]

I Put A Spell On You - Obey Me Boys and A Witch MC

I may have mentioned it in an ask or something before, but I'm actually a practicing witch. (Sorry, Mammon.) So, in honor of spooky season, I bring you witch MC!

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Lucifer: "Can I ask you something?"

Lucifer looked up from the report he had been working on. In the House of Lamentation, hearing that question was very rarely followed by anything but disaster. He bit back the urge to sigh and turned to look at the human. "You may."

"Have you ever been summoned by a witch?" the human set down their pen. They had taken refuge in Lucifer's room in an attempt to actually get their homework done, and had been working diligently up until this point. "Like, successfully."

He raised an eyebrow. "No, I haven't. I doubt any mortal witch would have the power to actually summon me."

"That's what I thought," they leaned back in their chair, stretching.

"What brought this on?"

"A witch I know up in the Human Realm swore up and down that he had, quote unquote, ‘summoned Lucifer himself.’ No one believed him anyway, but I figured I would ask just to confirm my suspicions.”

“No, it is highly unlikely that a mortal witch would have the magical power to summon me,” Lucifer chuckled darkly. “Although many have tried.”

“What happens to them when they do?” they asked, completely abandoning their work at this point. Part of Lucifer wanted to reprimand them for getting distracted, but he couldn’t deny that he liked having their attention on him. “Do you curse them or something?”

“I do nothing,” he smirked as they got up to lean against his desk. Perhaps he could stand to take a break as well. “The minor demons they actually summon, however, often have their fun with those foolish enough to try.”

“Oh, I’ll bet the Little Ds have a blast with them, huh?” the human grinned.

“Ask Number Two about the time he possessed a ouija board and convinced a human they would die if they ever wore the color blue again.”

Laughing, the human moved to return to their spot at his coffee table where they had spread out all of their study materials. Lucifer, however, had different plans.

“Oof!”

In one quick, fluid motion, he had grasped the human around the waist and tugged them into his lap. The movement had mussed up their hair, and he affectionately moved a few strands out of their face to see their adorable pout.

“You know, my dear, you are the only human witch able to summon me. You should wear that fact like a badge of honor.”

Mammon: “Now that’s just playin’ dirty!”

The human had to make a concentrated effort not to laugh at Mammon. “Yeah, they really didn’t have to go that far. They already have you by the balls.”

“They do not!” Mammon growled, crossing his arms. “Nobody has control over The Great Mammon!”

“Except for the multitude of humans who you made pacts with because they promised you a few bucks.”

“Wow, okay.”

Shaking their head, they gently plucked the doll out of Mammon’s palm. It was a standard poppet, made out of cloth. “Why don’t you just have Lucifer or Satan undo the curses?”

“Because,” Mammon huffed. “Human magic is different from demon magic. None of us know the first thing about it.”

“You just don’t want to admit to anyone that the witches pulled one over on you again.”

“Can you fix it or not?”

Smothering another laugh, they brought the poppet closer to examine it. Aside from the basic filling, it felt like there were some stones in there, and they thought they smelled some herbs.

“So, basically all you need to do is remove whatever link they used to bind the doll to you,” they muttered, more to themself than anything. “Usually it’s hair, nail, a drop of blood if they’re feeling particularly nasty…”

“That’s what they were doin’?”

The human looked up, tilting their head. “What?”

“One of the witches was bein’ real nice to me,” Mammon sighed. “Patting me on the head when I dropped off some money for them. Shoulda known she was trying something fishy!”

“Okay, that answers that.” they made their way over to their desk, plopping down in the chair. “So she probably pulled out some of your hair and put it inside the doll. So all we have to do it get it out, this thing becomes a regular old doll, and voila, curse broken.”

“How do we do that?” Mammon asked, peering over their shoulder as they reached into their drawer. His blue eyes widened when they pulled out a pair of scissors. “Whaddaya plan on doin’ with those?”

“Mammon, this is going to hurt like a bitch.”

“Wha - ack!”

Mammon doubled over in pain at the same time the human cut open a slice on the doll’s belly. There, right in the center of the stuffing and stones - and there were herbs in there, they had been right! - was a little bundle of white hair, tied with a piece of twine.

“Ah-ha!” they plucked the bunch out of the doll, and Mammon just barely managed to catch himself on the corner of the desk before he went crashing to the floor.

“Holy shit, human, I’m gonna fuckin’ hurl.”

“Do it somewhere that isn’t my room, please.”

Leviathan: “Levi, I don’t know how to tell you this, but ‘witch’ and ‘magical girl’ aren’t the same thing.”

Ever since they let it slip that they practiced witchcraft, Levi had obsessively forced them to watch every magical girl anime he could think of. It was his way of relating to them, they were sure, but it was starting to get a little out of hand. There were only so many variations of the magical girl trope in existence.

Levi frowned at them. “It’s not?”

“Well, for one, I don’t own a super cute lolita dress.”

“Do you want me to make you one?”

The human laughed. “Somehow I don’t think showing up to a coven meeting wearing a pink loli dress will make the others take me very seriously.”

“What about blue?”

“Leviathan.”

“Fine, fine,” he huffed. “So if it’s not like in the anime, what is human magic like?”

“A lot more boring than demon magic, honestly.” the human shrugged, turning back to the monitor. Since they had put their foot down against watching Madoka, the two of them were rewatching Sailor Moon. “A lot of using herbs and crystals and energy. Really symbolic.”

“That is boring,” Levi scowled. “You don’t even get a transformation sequence.”

“I’m just as mad about it as you are, dude.”

Satan: “Holy shit, Satan, that is a ton of books.”

THe demon had no reason to look as proud as he did as he sat the stack of books on the table in front of him. “This isn’t even all of them. Some of them are cursed, so I let them be for now.”

“That’s...both impressive and concerning.” the human picked up a book off the top of the pile. “Whoa, it’s even handwritten!”

“I’ve collected my fair share of grimoires over the millennia.” Satan took a seat across from them, watching as they turned each page with reverence. “I believe that one is from a Scottish witch from the 16th century.”

“Should I be wearing gloves or something?” they cradled the book like it was made of glass. “This is historic, Satan.”

“I’ve cast the appropriate spells on them to prevent them from decaying, don’t worry.” Satan laughed. “Although your concern is appreciated.”

“I could learn so much about the craft from these,” their voice was barely above a whisper, eyes wide as they scanned each page like it contained the secret to eternal life. “This is...wow…”

The look of utter rapture that the human had on their face was endearing, and Satan couldn’t help but smile softly at them. “Feel free to peruse them whenever you like. They deserve to be appreciated.”

“You mean it?” they looked up with hope sparkling in their eyes. “Thank you so much, Satan!”

“Of course,” he reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind their ear. “That look on your face is worth any price.”

Asmodeus: “I have a gift for you!”

Asmo poked his head up from where he had buried it in his D.D.D. The human stood next to the couch, arms clasped behind their back and a giddy smile stretching across their face. Asmo could practically feel them vibrating from excitement.

“Ooh, for me? Darling, you shouldn’t have!” He pocketed his phone and gave them his full attention. “What is it?”

They held out their hands, revealing the treasure they had been hiding. “Ta-da!”

Asmo carefully picked up the chain from their palms. Dangling from the end of it was a small bottle, wrapped carefully in wire and turned into a pendant. Tiny, translucent pink stones sat inside, nestled in a layer of salt and herbs. The magic surrounding it was faint, as most human witchery was, but it was so uniquely them that Asmo could just about cry.

“Oh, darling, you made me a love charm!” he exclaimed, immediately slipping the necklace on. “It’s so cute! I love it, thank you so much!”

The human smiled. “I’m glad! I wasn’t sure what to do with the rose quartz, but I knew you would love them, so I figured I would make you something! Not that I really think a love charm would work on you, but I figured you would appreciate the aesthetic.”

Asmo laughed, reaching forward to cup the side of their face gently. “You don’t need to use a love charm on me, darling. I’m already captivated by you.” His other hand came up to touch the pendent resting against his collarbone. “This will just serve as a reminder of how spellbound you’ve made me.”

Beelzebub: When they had first described themself as a “kitchen witch,” Beel had thought that they meant they were a really good cook.

And while that was true, they also were literally a kitchen witch.

“Basil for protection...oregano to ward off negative magic...there, that should do it.”

To Beel, it just looked like they were making pasta. Which was never a bad thing. But they chose which herbs to season it with such intention and purpose, Beel knew it was more than that.

“Do herbs really have magic?” he asked, leaning on the counter next to the stove while the human worked on magic dinner. “I’ve never thought of them as particularly magical.”

“It’s more of a human thing,” they said, sprinkling the last of the oregano over the pot of sauce. “We don’t get the flashy sparks and all that, so we had to develop our own magic.”

“Hm…” Beel regarded the pot with curiosity. “Is that why your cooking is so good?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” they laughed, swatting at his hand as he slowly approached the pot. “You aren’t sneaky, Beel.”

“Can I just have a taste?”

“Your ‘taste’ is drinking the whole pot like it’s soup.” they rolled their eyes. “I haven’t even started cooking it yet! It’s cold!”

Beel pouted, looking every bit the kicked puppy. “But I want to taste your magic.”

“You can taste my magic when dinner’s ready.”

Belphegor: On nights when he couldn’t sleep, Belphie usually ended up with the human.

Sometimes it was just him wiggling his way into their bed and cuddling with them until he felt sleepy. But tonight, it looks like they were sharing a case of insomnia.

So that was how he ended up sitting on the human’s floor with his hand in their lap as they studied it like it was a textbook.

“So? What do the squiggly lines of destiny tell you about me?”

“That you’re a little bitch.” they shot back, running their thumb over the center of his palm. “You have a lot of crosses on your heart line.”

“Which means?”

“You’re emotionally fucked up.”

Belphie snorted. “I could have told you that one.”

“You’re the one who came in here and wanted to see some human magic, I don’t want to hear any complaining.” they let go of his hand. “The only reason I’m breaking out the salt and candles is to banish your demonic ass from my room.”

“You know that only works on lesser demons.”

“Anything will work as banishment if I throw it hard enough.”

Diavolo: This...felt kind of pointless, honestly.

They knew it was mainly because of Diavolo’s obsession with human culture. But doing a Tarot reading for the Crown Prince of Hell seemed like a waste of everyone’s time.

Well, regardless, a summons from Diavolo was not to be ignored, so they had dutifully gathered up their cards and made their way to the Demon Lord’s Castle.

“You know,” they began hesitantly. “If you want to know the future, you have a time-manipulating butler right there.”

Barbatos, ever watchfully, chuckled and inclined his head. “My Lord is fascinated by human methods of divination.”

“It’s true,” Diavolo nodded. “Tarot especially has always piqued my interest, but very rarely do I have time to indulge with the other witches who visit the Devildom.”

....Oh, they really couldn’t say no to the hopeful gleam in his eye. A man that large had no right to look that cute.

“Alright,” they handed him the deck of cards. It looked hilariously small in his hands. “Go ahead and shuffle them.”

“Oh, I get to do it?”

“If you want,” they shrugged. “I usually have whoever is being read for do the shuffling, so the deck can get a feel for their energy. Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

“No, this is exciting!” He really did look like he was having fun. “How many should I draw?”

“Just one, and we can go from there.”

With a focus that might have been a bit too intense, Diavolo began shuffling. He handled the deck carefully, which made them happy. So many people were rough with the cards, and they were always worried they were going to get ruined.

“Alright.” Diavolo laid a card face down on the table between them. “Would you like to do the honors?”

He was being dramatic, but they couldn’t help but play along. What was the harm in a little bit of fun? They flipped the card face up and let out a startled chuckle.

The Devil.

“Did you do that on purpose?” they asked, laughter dripping from their voice.

“No, honest!” Diavolo was laughing too. “What does the Devil card mean?”

“It means my deck has a sense of humor.”

[riverlethe]

(via Sailor Moon Usagi GIF - Sailor Moon Usagi Balancing Pen - Discover & Share GIFs)

Fic Authors Self Rec

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love! 💖

Thanks to @areptiledysfunction1107 for the tag!

Here are mine, in no particular order.

1. Once More, with Feeling! This is my ongoing WiP, a re-write of the Dark Kingdom arc in which Usagi and Mamoru begin dating before learning each other’s alter egos, and then navigating a relationship in secret afterwards. It’s mostly Manga-canon from Mamoru’s perspective, and I took some liberties with Mamoru’s psychometry and plot. There’s angst-galore (who doesn’t love angst?) but also plenty of tenderness and romance.

I purposely didn’t age them up because I am a sucker for the “high school sweethearts thing” (yes, she is in Jr High, but you know what I mean) so while their relationship is very physical, (as teens tend to be), there is nothing explicit.

This was my foray into writing, if you will, because I needed a mental distraction from my health care worker job during COVID back in 2021. OMwF! has changed so much since I originally started posting it, and I just couldn’t be prouder of it considering it is my very first fanfiction, even if a few of my other stories were posted first.

Rated M

2. Home My Day 2 Contribution to UsaMamo week 2021 was supposed to be about Post-Stars Usa and Mamoru while he is at Harvard for his Study Abroad 2.0, but the story took itself in another direction. What was originally intended as a sweet story about how Usagi is “Home” for Mamoru, instead transformed into an emotional Usagi-centric introspection about the events of Stars.

And I just love it. All aboard the Feels Bus!

Rated T

3. Interlude Full discloser, this story was written for 2 reasons: 1. Because of a discussion on the Moonlight Legends Discord back in August or Sept of 2021 in which we lamented the lack of Dark Endymion and Usagi/Sailor Moon fics, and 2. Because I wanted to push myself out of my M-rated comfort zone and write some actual smut for the first time.

Now, for some, the smut-level of this story is still pretty low (I referred to it as “Diet Smut” when I originally posted it), as it wasn’t overly explicit. But when I reworked it a bit for @dendyweek, I did make it a tad more explicit. I also made the story a better a companion for another I wrote later called Consequences, a Princess D Masquerade fic inspired by @areptiledysfunction1107′s Deja Vu (and posted with her approval) that became an unintended prequel to “Interlude” (funny how that happens)

Rated E

4. What Dwells Within My Day 4 contribution for @dendyweek 2022. I really wanted to try my hand at a psychological horror inspired piece, and I had so much fun writing it. As we move further and further away from Dendy Week I find myself wishing I had done even more with this concept, perhaps even a short multi-fic, but I am so very proud of this story as it is.

Rated T

5. The Morning and Evening Star My Day 1 contribution to @sailormoonrarepairweek is all about Sailor Venus!

SilMil Venus makes an interesting proposal to Kunzite to blow off some steam, and the rest is history. While I don’t have anything against any ships involving the senshi, I just don’t really ship them with anyone. But if I did have to choose one SenShi pairing, it would be Venus/Kunzite.

This could very well be the only non-UsaMamo story I write, and I love how it turned out.

Rated E

Tagging @goddessalthena @moonchildoh8 as many others I know have already been tagged, but please feel free to share your own favs! This is open tagging! I don’t know everyone who writes, so please introduce yourself and your works!

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

But Tonight - We Were The Lucky Ones

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

Requested by @lntlmate : “Wilhemina x Reader with “Why are you wearing my sweater?” “Because it smells like you.” “

A/N: don’t ask me what happened to your request. I don’t know. This is set in the world in which the Apocalypse never happened. x

Word count: ≈ 3 000

Most nights she dreamt of you. She hated it at first, how you had found your way into her sleep, how her mind seemed to need you even when it was resting. But then she grew to love it. It meant she could be in your company always.

Some nights she didn’t remember what she dreamt of.

Some nights she dreamt of things that did not make sense, things that were built of little bits and pieces of her past or the last movie she saw.

Some nights she dreamt of another life in which she had been given the keys to a kingdom and she had sat on the throne and she had given up and made herself unlovable.

Some nights she dreamt she was alone again.

The light from the candles was flickering on the man’s eyes and turning his hair to gold like Midas’ touch. Wilhemina didn’t know who he was or what he was doing here, but she knew she hated him. She felt it – the hatred. The fear, also – but why was she afraid?

Ms Mead, she heard herself repeat – repeat? It seemed to her she had already said it. It seemed to her the woman was taking entirely too long. To do what? She couldn’t remember. Had she ever known? Probably.

The man’s face looked peaceful and confident. Ms Mead’s hand was trembling and her eyes were turning shiny, and when Wilhemina turned to look at her, really look at her, she saw the gun in her hand that was trembling and she saw that the gun was pointed at her.

She glanced down at the gun. Back up to lock eyes with Ms Mead. She was vaguely aware that something terribly wrong was going on. She was vaguely aware that Ms Mead was - but she didn’t have time to finish this thought, for then there was a gunshot and radiating pain in her chest.

She brought one hand to where it hurt, eyes opening wide as she let out a gasp. Ms Mead’s face – tears rolling down her cheeks in the flickering candle light. Wilhemina felt something like anger and like fear and like betrayal – betrayal? She vaguely remembered that she had offered her trust to this woman. That this woman had been meant to obey and love her unconditionally. A deal had been made, the pain in her chest, it was hard to breathe now.  

She tried to inhale, but as if she were under water liquid instead of air seeped into her lungs. Wrong, she thought. She tried to reach out – she was lying on the ground, now - for someone, for the love adults had promised would find her. The healing? Love would heal her, adults had promised. Love would make her love herself. She was still waiting for the love that would turn all the lonely mornings into memories.

She tried to inhale again. Her lungs were filling up with blood and she couldn’t breathe. And why, she thought, as her fingers curled around nothing, had Ms Mead betrayed her?

Breathing was hurting too much. She would take one last breath, and then give up.

Reaching out, one last time. Just in case.

Not yet, she begged. I haven’t been found yet.

One breath.

Wilhemina gasped for air and shot up on the bed.

The darkness jumped on her and clutched at her chest. She tried to pry it away, clawing at her skin, gasping for air, but she was choking on the darkness and on the tears that were running down her cheeks for she was so afraid – fear, faceless and nameless, gripped her stomach.  

“Mina?”

Your voice was soft, and yet it made her jump. Dear God, she couldn’t breathe. She clawed at her chest, wheezing, her mouth opening on a silent cry for help but no sound came out.

“Mina? Baby, what’s wrong, what – “

She felt the mattress move. And then all of a sudden there was light, flooding the room and crashing against the walls and blinding her.

“Mina! Mina, stop it, stop – what are you doing?”

Fingers, wrapping around hers, trying to pull her hand away. “Don’t,” she whimpered, “don’t – ”

“Mina, sweetheart. Mina, you’re safe. Look at me, baby, look at me.”

As her eyes scanned the room, looking for monsters and golden hair and trembling hands pointing a gun to her chest, as the light revealed to her the details of the chest of drawers, the white of the ceiling, the shadows the bed threw on the floor, she felt a hand rest tentatively on her drenched cheek, her burning forehead, wiping the sweat and brushing her hair back from her eyes.

“It’s fine, Mina, it’s all fine. You’re safe.”

“But I –“

She extended her hand, looked at her palm. No blood. She looked down at her chest but there was no wound, only the angry red marks she had clawed on her skin.

“But I –“ she repeated.

A kiss, on her temple. She scanned the room again, just in case. Just to make sure there was no gun and no golden head of hair.

You had fallen silent beside her, peering worriedly at her and rubbing circles on her back. You knew she had had nightmares before – except before, she had awoken silently and you had found her sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee or reading a book, her face only slightly paler than usual.

She had never told you what those dreams were about, and you had stopped asking after the third or fourth time. She wasn’t used to opening up and to sharing what bothered her. So what you would do instead was offer comfort. Genuine, nonjudgmental, undemanding. She wasn’t used to that, either. Didn’t know how to ask for it when she needed it.

Now you watched her as she tried to regain control of her breathing, one of her hands still clutching her chest, chin trembling in an effort not to break down.

You pressed another kiss to her temple, her skin sticky and hot, then to her cheekbone, avoiding her mouth to let her breathe.

“Mina?” you called.

Her eyes were glassy, haunted. You weren’t sure she was seeing the real world right now. You kept rubbing circles on her back, kept calling her name gently and quietly, until her eyes suddenly flicked to your face.

You tried to give her a smile. She scanned your face, touched a finger to your cheek as if to make sure you were real. You tilted your head and kissed the tip of her finger.

Her brow pushed up slightly in confusion. Her mouth opened, lips moving to form silent words you didn’t understand – and then her hand fell on the bed and lay between you two, palm facing the ceiling.

She reached out, just in case.

You looked down at her hand, uncomprehendingly at first. Her fingers twitched. So with a soft hum you took her hand, laced your fingers together and gently ran your thumb over hers.

One breath.

Wilhemina’s body sagged against yours as if all the strength had left her. Worriedly you wrapped one arm around her waist to support her and to pull her closer in.

You held her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, pressing comfort in the form of kisses wherever you could reach; trying to make the best of this unguarded moment, because you knew it wouldn’t last. And as you had expected, soon enough she pulled away and straightened up. And her eyes glazed over again, but for a different reason this time.

“Stay here,” you sighed. “I’ll go make breakfast.”

“Go back to sleep,” she retorted, voice toneless, gaze avoiding yours.

“It’s 6am, Mina. I don’t think I’ll go back to sleep now. ”

You paused, studying her face as you waited for a reproof. It didn’t come. Somehow, that made your heart sink. Tonight’s dream must have been particularly bad.

With another sigh, you got up and crossed to the window. You opened it, opened the shutters, your eyes fluttering closed briefly as the cold night air tickled your face. There was a thin strip of light blue above the horizon. Right in front of you hung Venus, twinkling and glittering a welcome to the sun, shaking with anticipation.

“Mina,” you called over your shoulder, “come look at the sunrise.”

On any other night, she would have said no. Maybe she would even have added a snarky comment to let you know she refused to stoop to doing such useless things. Wilhemina Venable didn’t look at the sunrise to soothe the fear in her guts. She snapped at other people and took it out on them. It was still rather early in your relationship, and she was still learning to be kind.

But tonight – tonight, either she was badly shaken up, or she agreed to knock down yet another wall; in any case, you heard some rustling, soft footsteps, the clink of her cane. She didn’t press herself against you, didn’t reach for you, but stood close enough for her warmth to wrap around you and fight off the chill from outside.  

You watched in silence as the lighter blue slowly marked a bigger portion of the sky, like blood seeping from a wound, like a bruise spreading under the skin. After a reasonable amount of time had passed, you leaned back, to press your shoulders against Wilhemina’s.

Wilhemina stiffened. You waited, eyes riveted on Venus which was coughing and choking on the light blue blood. You waited, until your lower back started to hurt from your posture – and you were about to straighten up to relieve it, when two arms slipped around your waist and Wilhemina pressed you close against her chest.

You hummed happily as she rested her chin on your shoulder. Took one of her hands and gave it a squeeze – a “thank you”. A “I’m proud of you”.

You often thought of your relationship with Wilhemina as she being a stormy ocean and you an unskilled sailor, alone on your tiny boat. She never opened up to you if you didn’t ask her first, but then again, you couldn’t ask her at any random time. There were days when pushing her only made her close up. But tonight it seemed to you the ocean was quiet, barely a few ripples under a clear, star-studded sky. It seemed to you you could relax and stare at the reflection of the moon in the dark waters, and dip your fingers into it and listen to the ocean’s song.

You looked down at Wilhemina’s arms around your waist and smiled.

“Did you put on my sweater?” you asked in a whisper.

She nudged your neck. “It smells like you.”

“You’re getting soft,” you teased.

She didn’t reply.

For a moment you both stayed silent, staring at the slowly reddening sky. Then you gave Wilhemina’s hand a squeeze and whispered, “It was a bad one, wasn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question. You might not get a reply, but it didn’t matter. You only wanted her to know that you knew. That you were at arm’s reach if she needed you.

“I keep having those dreams,” Wilhemina whispered, surprising you. “Of me, in a dark place, subterranean maybe? I don’t know. It’s lit up by many candles and I seem to be in charge of everything. You aren’t there with me,” she added after a short pause.

This last confession was uttered so sadly, so hopelessly, you felt your chest tighten. You gave her hand another squeeze.

“In those dreams I –“She winced, cut herself short. You hummed in encouragement. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because then you won’t love me anymore.”

You shook your head. “They are just dreams, baby.”

“They feel so real,” she breathed.

“But they’re not. This,” you squeezed her hand again, ��is real. This is the real world.” A pause. “And in the real world, you are getting so much better at treating people right,” you teased.

Wilhemina didn’t react. You had expected a snort, a sigh, maybe a nip. You frowned, and turned in her arms to take a look at her face.

She was looking at the sky, her eyes dark and sad and tired. She met your gaze, didn’t even bother to return your smile.

“Was you being in charge of that place what tonight’s dream was about?” you asked softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“No, it was a different one.”

“Tell me?”

Her eyes were brimming with that sadness which used to inhabit them for days on end and which you had fought so hard to chase away. It told of years spent waking up to a quiet, empty house, setting the table for one, clearing her throat just to break the silence and reassure herself she was real. You would catch a glimpse of it still, once in a while, in moments of silence as well as of joy. It would always be here, you knew that – it would always be a part of her.  

“It was nothing,” Wilhemina whispered after a moment.

“It obviously wasn’t nothing,” you tried.

Her gaze hardened a little at that.

“I murdered a whole group of people,” she said in a suddenly firm, angry voice. “And before that, I fed them human meat.” She frowned, eyes glazing over again. “I was given power and I made everything I could to make their lives like hell and I enjoyed it.”

“Those are just dreams, Mina,” you replied, trying to hide the concern in your voice.

“But they feel so real,” Wilhemina breathed.

“But they are just dreams,” you repeated, firmer. “In this life, the only thing you murdered is my begonia.”

Wilhemina’s gaze focused on you again. “I did not mean to murder your begonia,” she said defensively.

“I know,” you chuckled, with a poke on her nose.”I would have left you if you had. Just kidding,” you added quickly when you saw the flash of alarm in her eyes.

Silence settled back between you two. Wilhemina looked at the sunrise, and you looked at Wilhemina as the light slowly painted details on her face.

Her eyes flicked back to you, now darker than the sky. She looked through you and frowned. “In this dream, a man and the only other person who mattered watched me die. I’m not afraid of death,” she added fiercely. “Or of the pain. But all the wasted –“She swallowed, frown deepening in thought. “All the wasted – not meeting you. Not getting to – not knowing how to –“

She huffed in frustration, tears pooling in her eyes.

“It’s okay,” you cooed, laying one hand on her cheek. “I think I know what you mean.”

“They just stood there watching me,” Wilhemina went on. She still wasn’t seeing you – and to the sadness in her eyes was now added a kind of desperate, hateful fury that grew and grew with every second ticking by. “And I died not knowing you and after I gave up on myself to –“

She swallowed back the last few words with a shaky breath.

“It was just a dream, Mina,” you said urgently, catching with your thumb the tears that were now rolling down her cheeks. “Look at me. You didn’t give up on yourself. Look at me,” you repeated, because you could see her drifting further and further away from you and you didn’t want her to sink where you could no longer reach her. “Look at me, baby.”

She blinked in an effort to. It seemed to you you could feel the panic thrumming right under her skin, clouding her brain, and you pressed her closer against you as if that could help her somehow, as if touch could help her share some of her burden with you – let it pass from her skin to yours.

“It was just a dream,” you said, your voice strained from the thickness in your throat. “You didn’t die. You found me, and I found you, and you didn’t give up on yourself.”

She blinked again, and this time her gaze cleared a little. You gave her a smile, holding her face in your hands and running your thumbs over her cheekbones.

“Look at me,” you breathed – and your mouth curled up again when she finally, finally met your eyes. You both drew in a breath at the same time. “There you go,” you beamed, a bit tearily.

She let out a chuckle wrapped in a breath, and shivered. You leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to her mouth; she eagerly kissed you back, and traced your lower lip with her tongue.

When she pulled away, she took a sniff of your sweater she was wearing, then buried her nose in your shoulder and breathed you in, as if to make sure of your scent and existence. Then she met your eyes again, and her brow tightened sadly, and her chin trembled.

Tough day ahead, you thought with a sigh. You slipped your arms around her shoulders and wrapped her up in a tight hug.

The sky was slowly turning the colour of ripe peaches, the colour of the blush that would bloom in Wilhemina’s cheeks when you praised her or called her beautiful.

Wilhemina synchronized her breathing with yours. There were thoughts in her head she did not know how to express without betraying everything she had ever believed in, logic, order, rationality, such as: Do you believe in past lives? or Do you believe in the universe throwing dice? and Do you believe in angels peering down at the world and deciding to be kind?

She couldn’t tell you that now. Maybe later, though, in a few months, when the dream would feel less real and she would be able to laugh about it with you.

But tonight, what she said instead simply was, “Breakfast?”

You nodded.

When you turned to face the sky again, Venus had disappeared. It had choked to death on its own blood. But the sun was peeking above the horizon, painting the world in colours, and it was shining brighter than Venus ever did.

Tag list: @sapphicsarahpaulson @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers   @coconutlipss ​ @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills

[animecreator3000]

About the Boueibu iceberg

@delphoxqueen asked me to explain about my list for the iceberg so here it is. I might update this from time to time with links and stuff if I stumble across the original posts. This is all from what I know so feel free to add new info. Also, spoiler warning for RobiHachi and the Boueibu manga and novels. (This is like a masterpost it’s very long)

1. There’s a theory in tumblr about which decade the series is set in, using data like the friday the 13th calendar in s2 ep11. In HK we got a second number for when the next monthly Pretty Boy Contest was happening and using the one from Love it was theorized that around a decade had passed since then, which ended up being true.

2. The stage play had a few original songs and characters exclusive to it so unless you watched the full performance, you probably weren’t able to witness all of them. One of the characters is called “Robato Deniro”, as romanized in the stage play booklet I own.

3. The nurse and the cafeteria staff from the s1 mobile game appear in the background in around the first half of s2 ep3.

4. S2 had an unfinished manga that was only available online and was never released on physical format; it was centered around the defense club and sometimes the conquest club and Beppu brothers. All that’s left from what I know are the scans linked on magicalgirlsandcerulean’s blog.

5. This isn’t that obscure because it’s talked about in the anime, but I’m mentioning it because I think many people dropped it before the ova, where right at the beginning it is revealed that the alien that resucitated Mr. Tawarayama twice was, as described by Io, a “mulberry-colored naked mole rat-looking thing”, and was nicknamed “Moley-san” by Yumoto. At least in the anime, we had never heard before of who this was and it never appeared on screen nor was mentioned again.

6. In HK ep8, Karurusu promises the knights to grant a wish if they show him how earthlings spend summer. Kyoutarou reveals at the end of the episode that he wished that summer lasted one more day so he could spend it doing nothing, which prompts Ichiro to theorize that it’s the 32nd of august, and the next day is the second 1st of september.

7. The stage play was was held from march 10th to 13rd, of which the latter is Ryuu’s birthday. There’s an additional recording of a small celebration with cake focused on Ryuu and Io.

8. Atsushi mentions his older sister in the flashback at the beginning of s1 ep4, but she never appears or is mentioned again.

9. There’s a few posts on tumblr theorizing about what happened to the Hakone parents since Yumoto only says in s2 ep3 that according to Gora, “they are busy with their hot springs tour”. En mentions that it’s a bit suspicious, but it’s all the information we have from the anime. Posts talk about the parents perhaps passing away from an accident or an illness, thus the reason why Gora was so worried about Yumoto’s cold in s1 ep10, but from another post I think it’s implied in the second novel that they actually left their home when Yumoto was still a toddler.

10. It’s no secret that the surnames of the characters are all real onsens in Japan that even the seiyuus have visited, but apparently the Arima onsen has two different kinds of water, “kinsen (gold hot spring)” and “ginsen (silver hot spring)”, with different properties each, and the Kusatsu onsen water also has certain properties, both that were used to build the characters. Additionally, Ryuu’s favorite food are Sato Nishiki cherries, which are grown in the same prefecture, Yamagata, as his onsen, Zaou.

11. The press club lose relevance after s1, with only Kinosaki and Tazawa reappearing briefly in s2 ep2 to interview the Beppu twins after they arrive at the school. Tazawa doesn’t even have lines. Hireashi is mentioned by Zundar in ep11.

12. What the heck

13. Exclusively in the manga we see that Arima met Kinshiro and Atsushi when they were little and they were good friends, but when they met again as adults, Kinshiro seemingly didn’t remember Arima. Atsushi, however, stated that Kinshiro’s talent is remembering people’s faces and names, so Arima wonders if he’s just trying to distance himself from him. He also explains to Akoya that he follows Kinshiro and obeys him because as a child, he was fascinated by his radiant smile. This is never talked about in the anime.

14. Like the previous point, the anime never shows Akoya being bullied, at most just a slight dislike of his full name, but the manga shows that he was made fun of for it and how he actually hates his surname, to the point of introducing himself formally to the president and vicepresident of the student council as “Holy Angel Akoya”.

15, 16, 17, 19. Batonama lives were the livestreams done through the franchise by the defense club seiyuus on youtube and niconico. They’re all on youtube, without any kind of translation.

Love-ko is a girl with a shell bikini drawn on a piece of cardboard that was used as a girlfriend in the Batonama Love! lives, acted by the seiyuus themselves.

RobiHachi has one episode full of official Boueibu artwork and a parody of the series too, a Love-ko doll appears, and Wombat appears as well, named “The Don”. It received an english dub, so for a bit, people were excited that Wombat was going to speak in english too. Also, various mechas appear in both Boueibu and RobiHachi.

18. The director of Fairy Ranmaru (Masakazu Hishida if I’m not wrong) revealed in an interview that he was inspired by Boueibu and aimed to make a show like that.

20, 21. The website super-groupies.com has results for defense and conquest club lingerie sets, dc and VEPPer tote bags, the Beppus’ scarf rings, dc bath sets and the pumps magicalgirlsandcerulean mentioned. I’ve found the s1 Loveracelets and Caerula Adamas’ ring on different sites, the True Loveracelets on TheChara’s twitter and the Happybraces (apparently called “Hapibure”) on broccoli.co.jp but I’m not sure where exactly they were all announced and sold, so I’ll just drop that.

22, 33. Boueibu was originally pretty much a copy of Sailor Moon, I think they were all going to be called “Lackluster Moon” and that stuff and be literally Sailor Moon genderbent. They were all different from color palettes to physical features (except Yumoto’s), and Ryuu was a shota, even smaller than Yumoto. Their names were also very reminiscent of the five Sailor Senshis’. Even if they made it more original, the show is still clearly inspired by Sailor Moon (just look at Caerula Adamas lol) and Pretty Cure. It has also referenced, very blatantly, animes like Doraemon, Detective Conan, Aikatsu and even Vocaloid, when Kyoutarou tries to guess what Karurusu is saying with ““Just Google It, Asshole”?” in ep1.

23. Wombat’s real name and the name of his planet sound like gibberish to the earthlings and ends up being named after the Earth animal, but Zundar, Dadacha, Karurusu and Furanui all have original names. And I think Hireashi means “goldfish”?

24. If you google “zundar technology”, it’s actually a company in Shanghai, China. Aren’t Wombat and Zundar always talking about “advanced alien technology”?

25. Zundar and Dadacha are siblings, so are Karurusu and Furanui, and so are their father King Kamopapa and their uncle minister Wao, but neither are the same species and, except the first two, not even the same color. But they are supposedly related because they share birthmarks or something like that...

26. Everyone who’s in this fandom knows about the pixel blur and voice pitch censor from s1, but I’ve added it anyway because it’s so rare for mahou shoujo and shounen animes to explain why the heroes aren’t recognized when transformed.

27. A good while of s2 ep11 is spent discussing Zundar’s ex-wife and his problems to give child support. Naturally, he gets mad at this.

28. “Money doesn’t betray” (s1 ep6) and “The despair hidden behind your smile that comes from not being understood” (s3 ep11) are sentences that came out of nowhere and implied that the people they were said by (Io) or about (Taiju) respectively had some kind of angst going on but were never explained at all. They’re famous for just that.

29. The Beppu twins’ house in Andromeda shown in flashbacks had strange green circles that apparently are from another anime I don’t know but honestly I didn’t get it very well... It was revealed on a tweet from Takamatsu.

30. Alien language mostly appeared in s2 due to the many flashbacks of Aki and Haru in Andromeda, but in Boueibu s1, it appears on the Zundar Needle before it is shot on the human. It appears a lot through RobiHachi as well, due to being a story about travelling through space. There might be an alphabetical chart somewhere, but I can’t assure it exists, I might even have dreamed it.

31. Hikaru Midorikawa as the melon monster, Kousuke Toriumi as the bishounen monster, Yoshitsugu Matsuoka as the kotatsu and panda monsters and Takuya Eguchi as the remote controller monster in s1 and 2, before going on to voice the main cast in HK. Keisuke Koumoto voiced Hatchi Kita in RobiHachi as well as Akihiko in Boueibu, and the characters look similar.

A new addition is that so far Boueibu is the only anime I’ve seen where children weren’t voiced by female seiyuus, but by actual children. Personally, it’s charming and makes it so much more realistic, specifically since no women appear in the franchise at all either (not counting Protag-chan in the game).

32. Speaking of seiyuus, Can I Destroy The Earth? had a dub shown in ep11/12 (?) that made Gora the villain that wanted Earth to stay the same and not progress, against the monsters that supposedly wanted to bring good things to earthlings. Aki and Haru quickly dismissed this dub as fake. (I made a mistake in the title in the previous post btw)

34. As seen in the glossary in the Boueibu Mook (I think, but might not be the mook), Caerula Adamas’ speeches are based on an old japanese detergent commercial that went “Gold, silver, pearl, gift”.

35. In the manga there’s a short parody of the first chapter of Sailor Moon with “Pretty Boy Guardian Gakuran Akoya”. The conquest club manga was released before the anime, so I remember reading somewhere that a fake website appeared for the Gakuran Akoya manga, before turning into the conquest club manga website in the day of its release.

36. Cgi was used a few times in the anime: s2 ep10 for a short sequence of the defense club on a rollercoaster and the carousel monster, ep11 for a cenital shot of the Battle Lovers singing, and HK ep12 for the Honyalaland soldiers and the Wao mecha.

37. The toothbrush incident in s1 ep7. (It’s definitely well-known but it’s so weird lol)

38. “We hope we can see each other again someday!” Something along those lines was the last text to appear in the last episode of HK, implying a s2. We all know how that went.

[saessenach]

Hi! For the ask thing, top 5 missmungoe's fics and top 5 One Piece villains?

Love your art!

Hi, nonnie!!

I'm afraid it's been a minute since I've been up to date with One Piece, so both questions will be more or less based around @missmungoe and her incredible, swashbuckling Odyssey-retelling (although let's be real, Odysseus could never) honest-to-god multi-verse Shanties 😊

Top 5 OP Villains

1. Blackbeard (love him, love the parallels to Luffy and Shanks, love his ominous intro and the way he's thematically relevant to a T)

2. Akainu (love to hate him, he is terrible, I hope he gets w r e c k e d, and that whoever takes him down has a marvellous time while at it)

3. That one guy from Film Gold bc he was hella compelling and he had style, but I forget his name. He was extra gaudy and that wins points from me

4. Gold Lion Shiki (I think??? From Strong World, because the last few films have been really good - worldbuilding-wise and narratively speaking, and it's been fun to dip my toes back into the story without having to tackle several hundred chapters)

5. TBH I've only rewatched properly up until Arabasta, so the villains I have Opinions on are Arlong, Croc, Captain Kuro and mayyyybe Rob Lucci and his gang, but I have no idea what's happened with them since, if they've gotten their own arcs like Buggy, or whether we're friends with them or not, so I'll leave it at that.

(An honorary mention to the slavemonger Celestial Dragon from the latest chapter of Mnemosyne, because he was awful, incredibly well-written and made me want to hurl my phone against the wall)

(So now onto the fun part)

Top 5 missmungoe fics

1. Heed the Siren's Call and Sailor's Folly (technically cheating as they are separate stories, yes, but when I reread one, I also immediately reread the other, so imo, it's only fair. Siren was a favourite I first read years ago on ff.net while it was being written, and which I happened across again in 2017 on ao3, and it's never been the same!! When I say it's life-changing literature, I mean it, because how many stories can claim to grow up and change right alongside you? I just have a lot of love for it, and I am this 🤏 close to taking a bookbinding class and having my way with it)

2. Penelope (the amount of times I've read and reread this is truly embarrassing, and that number has more digits than I care to admit - but I am a sucker for weddings which tell tradition to f right off, tiny brides giving voice to their anger at the world and bridegrooms smitten straight out of their ugly ass sandals. This is my comfort read.)

3. Mnemosyne (is the herculean, show-stopping, incredible slow-burn of my dreams and just - wow, it literally takes Oda's worldbuilding and makes it immeasurably richer and better. If for nothing else, then read it for Hancock and her friendship to Makino, for the INTRICACY given to the Amazons, for the way it breathes life into every single place the cast visits, and ties in over-arching themes from canon with details so fucking brilliant, you just sort of stare dumbly at your screen because of course they should be there. There are so many different POVs, and so many intersecting threads that make up this huge-ass tapestry I am continuously in awe of, because it's not just the HEART-ACHE INDUCING marvel of a love story, it's the Red-Hair crew's shenanigans, and the Straw-Hats' incapacity to stay put, it's Rowan's adventure, it's Hancock and her people getting the quality writing they DESERVE, it's the ASL reunion which made me cry, and a found family which spans oceans and realms of existence and everything in-between)

4. Andromeda Unbound (the SWASHBUCKLING UNDERCOVER EXTRAVAGANZA! The one where everyone and their mother separately shows up to crash Shanks' execution, complete with narrow misses, over-the-top banquets, Leverage heist music and so many good reunions. A big, fat and incredibly Extra(tm) middle-finger to propriety and saintly lawful systems, and just, so much fun to read)

5. Time for the ties lol - I still can't believe the Unspeakable 30 year fic and the subsequent AU in which Shanks crashes Makino's wedding are a thing, but I just love that miniseries a lot. Somewhere on this spot are also Moon and Her Maiden (for being ridiculously atmospheric), Bind me to the Tide (uhh, the coolest and also most painful soulmate AU for them, with Makino being very much against her intended, Shanks dealing with period cramps from Hell and just overall being Very Good for my Heart) and, of course Peony and Silver (ROGER. Shakky sweeping Rayleigh off his feet. ROGER. More over-arching themes, as usual. Have I mentioned, perhaps, ROGER? Just to be safe.)

Oh, and an honourable mention for Charybdis as it single-handedly (😌) dragged me out of the biggest art-block I've ever had, and I've rarely cried this much when reading fic.

Hope these answers are satisfying, nonnie!! Thank you for the lovely compliment, and for giving me an opportunity to gush about one of my favourite series ♡