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the-melting-world · 3 years ago

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Strength | Side A: "Sol"

art by @ ligiawrites

~ In which a secretive barhand tames many beasts at once...

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Lucio | Valdemar

Track Origins: “Sol” by Blanco White

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: Strength

Khleo is Non-binary and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably

cw: descriptions of monsters

~ 2.8k words

****

Ozy and Kip waited anxiously on a grated walkway in the framework. Just below them was the chamber of Rooms that they had created to hold the monsters who brought darkness with them wherever they went.

“Do you think that maybe we should go down there and check up on her?” Kip asked, holding Taro tightly enough that the lemur had started to squirm. She looked down at where Ozy was sitting with one of his legs dangling over the side of the bridge.

Ozy turned to Abaco, who was perched comfortably on his shoulder. The bird gave a little hop and ruffled his feathers. Finally, Ozy glanced down at the Room and said, “I think we should wait for Khleo to let us know when it’s okay to come inside.”

Kip nodded in agreement, but her eyes were distant. Ozy turned his gaze back to her and shifted a little. He held out his arm and beckoned her over.

“Kipling. Come here.”

Soon Kip was sitting beside Ozy, under his arm. She let her legs dangle over the edge too as she leaned into him. It wasn’t often that they shared this sort of affection, but Kip had always found Ozy’s bright citrus scent and the sound of his chirping beads quite comforting.

“I have faith in Khleo mostly because of you, Kip. I’m sorry if my anxiety kept me from expressing my gratitude, but… thank you for talking to them. For helping them rest.”

Kip reached up to scratch the five o’clock shadow clinging to Ozy’s jaw. “You did most of the talking, coz. You told Khleo everything they needed to hear exactly when they needed to hear it. You showed them the moments from our past that I was too scared to show them myself.”

Ozy sighed and chuckled against Kip’s ticklish fingernails. “I worried myself silly trying to get the timing right. Confrontation only works when the time and the place is appropriate. You know I’ve always struggled with that in the past.”

Now Kip was tugging on Ozy’s ghost lock. “You’ve gotten so much better at it though.”

Before Ozy could respond, a voice called out to both of them. Ozy and Kip got to their feet and looked around. It wasn’t long before they realized that the voice was coming from inside the Room.

“They’re asking us to open the Doors,” Kip whispered.

Because there were eight of them total and they were all very heavy, Ozy and Kip had to work together to create an opening into the chamber. Once they could both look down inside the Room, the umbras were taken aback by all of the darkness that had been replaced with an usual sort of light. Soft, multicolor beads of brightness moved about the room languidly, as if alive.

It took them a moment to realize that the lights made up the anatomies of the individual monsters. Many were drakelike, but there were also furrier, multi-headed beasts and cloven, multi-eyed creatures.

Khleo walked into view, holding a juvenile in her arms. This one had the head of a foal, the body of an eel, and a large, cyclopic eye. Khleo cradled them in one arm and stroked their head with the other. She looked up at her friends and smiled.

“It’s safe. You can come down.”

The barhand let the strange chimera slither out of her arms and undulate away on the absent breeze. Even though Khleo seemed completely in control, Kip and Ozy still looked about warily at the slow-moving, bioluminescent creatures patrolling the space.

Khleo escorted the two of them around, explaining the nature of the monsters and how they all answered to one queen. The queen selected Rooms to lay her eggs in the walls and shut them off in darkness so that she can protect her nest in relative peace.

Inevitably, Ozy started up with his questions. “Did the queen try to attack you?”

Khleo nodded calmly. Without elaborating, she brought them over to the largest of the beasts. When they were close enough, she held out her hand to signal Ozy and Kip to keep their distance. Only after Khleo knelt to where the queen was resting, did she explain, “They’ve all got a sensitive spot somewhere on their bodies.”

Khleo snuck her hand under what Ozy and Kip presumed was the head of the queen and scratched until the great thing lifted her horned skull and yawned.

“See?”

It was hard to pay attention to what Khleo was referring to, what with the unraveling of the queen’s three crooked rows of nested jaws and green, pimpled tongue. But below her maw of shards and behind her fluffy goatee was a layer of veined, membranous meat. It pulsed fleshy blends of red and pink light.

As soon as Ozy and Kip got a good look, Khleo closed the goatee curtain and stroked the queen back to sleep.

“If you can reset the leader’s buttons, the others will follow. It’s just a matter of finding the weak spot and getting close enough to apply the right sort of pressure.” Khleo stood up. “But I also think that snapping them out of that state helps them recognize my scent better.”

Ozy crossed his arms and nodded. “The beasts must think you’re one of them. It’s the only explanation for why they aren't attacking Kip and me right now.”

Khleo’s face was one of acceptance, but they still shrugged and asked, “Why, though?”

Kip spoke up. “Your patron’s blessing. It has to be. It must not be something that you can see or touch, but the creatures living in the walls can feel it.”

Khleo considered this as they approached the two of them. They looked at Kip first and then up at Ozy.

“So now what?”

The excitement was back in Ozy’s murky hazel eyes. He drew up Khleo’s wrist and studied her knuckles, which were bruised from driving them into the queen’s weak spot.

“We’ll need to get you some gauntlets later, but this means that now… we can make shortcuts.”

****

~ The Palace ~

After releasing the subdued monsters into the framework, Ozy carved a pathway back to the Palace for the three of them. Khleo wasn’t all that surprised to find Asra and Nadia waiting for them in the reception hall with Hefe’s head resting in the Countess’ lap. What did catch them off guard was the sight of Basil, who they hadn’t seen since he helped them escape their blood curse.

Kip went to greet Asra and Ozy was preoccupied with Nadia. Hefe approached Khleo first, gently encouraging her to speak candidly with Basil.

When Basil hugged Khleo, she was relieved to sense no bitterness or anger in his touch.

“I’m sorry I kept so many things from you,” Khleo rasped. “It was the last way I could… protect what little I had–”

Basil shook them. “Gah! Khlee, stop. I know.” He pulled back, trying to blink the shine out of his clear blue eyes. “You don’t need to explain. Just… read this. It’s for you.”

The mixologist retrieved an envelope from his pocket. He opened it for Khleo before handing them the contents. Khleo held the documents up and read them slowly. Then they reread them. Again. And again.

Ozy and Kip didn’t notice that Khleo had taken off running through the Palace until Nadia brought it to their attention.

By the time Ozy caught up to Khleo, they were already hurdling themself over the Palace gates. He only managed to keep up with the help of the Doors, phasing him in and out of Khleo’s reality.

When Ozy asked if Khleo intended to run all the way to the Chandrian by foot, the barhand panted, “How the hell else am I supposed to get there? I still can’t open Doors!”

A new presence appeared in between the two umbras.

< Get on my back, cub. >

Ozy grinned before opening a Door and disappearing altogether. Khleo didn’t stop running, but they shot Hefe a suspicious look. The lion blew a puff of frustrated air.

< You’ve done it before. How else would you have reached your own gate in the past? >

Still uncertain, but curious to see what would happen, Khleo reached over and grabbed the scruff of Hefe’s neck without breaking their stride. Then in one swift maneuver, they mounted their familiar’s back and tucked their legs neatly against Hefe’s sides.

The lioness picked up speed, bounding faster over the cobblestones of the Heart District until a Door exploded into existence before them. Khleo’s heart leaped as Hefe carried them through the Door and into a tunnel of rotating seawater. Ozy was on the other side, closing the Door behind them as the barhand and their lion sailed away.

~ Hefe… you’re glowing! ~

Even in her mind, Khleo didn’t have the words to describe all that she was seeing. Hefe crossed the astral planes as if she had been born there. Her pale creamy coat shimmered and kicked up a snowy dust-storm all around them.

As they traveled the framework, their presence drew in any nearby beasts. Creatures that would have otherwise camouflaged themselves were now flanking Hefe’s heels and undulating languidly past Khleo’s shoulders.

Kipling came into view shortly thereafter, holding open a Door that dropped Khleo off directly in front of the Chandrian. As soon as Hefe landed on solid ground and slid to a stop, Khleo took off again, not bothering to wait for her friends.

The barhand had so many questions as she shoved open the doors to the tavern – her tavern. The other barhands were there to greet her, including Basil. They congratulated her, poured her two – three hefeweizens and shoved one mug after the other against her chest.

There was so much excitement, it was clear that questions had no place here. Not now. When things had settled somewhat, Kip came to wrap her arms around Khleo from behind. The gardener balanced her chin on Khleo’s shoulder and kissed them on the cheek.

“It’s not your beer garden, but it’s a step.”

Khleo swallowed the words she didn’t have with the help of the beer in her hand. She took a breath and looked around at the rejoicing still going on in her tavern hall. The fiddles were out, people were on the tables moving and twirling. The only stillness in sight were a couple of patrons calmly dining at a booth towards the back of the hall.

“Those two women over there have been waiting this whole time,” Kip whispered. “I think one of them wants to talk to you.”

Khleo shot Kip a perplexed look as she kissed them fondly on the cheek one final time and lifted the mug out of their hands. Kipling’s hand then came to the small of their back and gave them an encouraging push.

Khleo didn’t know what to expect as they wandered over to the booth. They were sure that they had never met the first woman. However, they recognized her deep brown skin and warm garnet eyes. Because the second woman who finally turned around in her seat happened to have them too.

Khleo froze.

“Mir?”

Her old coworker smiled radiantly as she got to her feet. There was something she was holding in her arms. Wrapped up in blankets and so small, Khleo could hardly believe the obvious.

There were words of deep gratitude exchanged, as well as warm affection, but all Khleo could focus on was the round, slumbering face. The tiny fingers and tinier fingernails.

“She’s so small.”

Samira laughed because for a moment, Khleo truly looked as if she feared the blanket would swallow the infant whole. Giving her strong arms a playful nudge, Samira asked, “Wanna hold her?”

Khleo had never held anything or anyone so awkwardly in her whole life. Just minutes ago she was rocking chimeras to sleep, but now her arms felt damn near useless when it came to deciding how best to snuggle Samira’s baby against her.

“What’s her name?”

Samira, who was close enough to save Khleo should she need it, whispered, “Lily... It means: she’s gonna grow.”

She lifted her eyes to meet Khleo’s. The two shared a smile before shining their happiness back on the little one.

****

~ Not Long After ~

Khleo was at her gate, standing in a field of wildflowers at the bottom of a hill. She had tried to run to the top of that hill so many times before.

She tried again.

Like before, the muscles in her legs burned as her heels dug into the earth, kicking up enchanted daisies on the way. Her arms fought air resistance as they pumped harder and harder.

Drive. Drive!

Khleo zig-zagged to sidestep the pressure of gravity trying to hold her back. The top of the hill came into view faster than it ever had before. But Khleo was not stopping or slowing down. Her breath came out energized rather than labored.

And she leaped...

Khleo’s feet never did make contact with the peak of that hill. Instead, her momentum took over the mound.

Beyond.

Khleo found Kipling resting in the flowers, scratching lines of new poetry into her journal. The barhand gently interrupted the gardener and encouraged her to rise to her feet.

“C’mere. I wanna show you something.”

When Khleo had led Kipling a good distance from the rest of their friends that had joined them in the realm, they called forth something from the framework. Something from their past.

Kipling gasped at the sight of a shimmering ocean drake coasting like a sentient ribbon down from the clouds.

“Remember?” Khleo asked with a smile, waving the drake over in their direction. “From when we used to ride our bikes to and from the market?”

Khleo directed the sea drake from their childhood to revolve around themself and Kip in an infinite loop. The creature fanned out their webbed frill and tail, sweeping up more of the glistening flowers. It flew in a tight circle around Khleo and Kip, giving them no choice but to come together chest to chest.

Khleo tilted Kip’s face up by her chin and kissed her.

“So that day, in the caves… the day the Door took me…”

Kip’s breath hitched. “I remember.”

Khleo dismissed the lumps in her throat. “Well there was something I wanted to tell you.” She glanced down at Kip’s necklace. “It was too hard for me to say back then. And it’s still hard, but…”

The sea drake passed in the background, twisting once in midair, the rest of its body snaking into the rotation like a wave passing through a column of seawater.

“Some things never change, I guess. Still, I wanted to say this.” Khleo breathed in deeply. “I loved you so much back then, Kip.” They placed a kiss on her forehead. “Just as I love you now. As I always will. As it should be.”

Kip found that even as Khleo kissed her through her tears, she could not speak. Even though she had screamed her feelings for Khleo inside those very same caves, she could barely whisper them now.

This was strange for someone like her, for whom words flowed like water and blossomed out like flowers. But Khleo understood what that was like, so they kissed Kip through her tearful wordlessness.

They closed their eyes and purred knowingly and in plain happiness when Kip hugged Khleo for all she was worth, buried her face along the side of their neck and worked her lips into a soundless confession.

Khleo’s body was sensitive enough to feel the truth. They soaked up the love — the years and years of love — enough to make them wish they could open their throat and roar.

And then… the moment came when it was time for Khleo to be alone in their realm with their lion and their patron.

Their friends, Kipling, Ozy, Nadia, Asra – and their familiars, all left.

Khleo stood in the place where they were reborn, listening to the wind blowing over the fields. They had never done this before, but the next move came so naturally to them.

Strength watched from the top of one of the hills, her red headscarf drawn down by her shoulders and her rough curls catching wind and daisies.She watched Khleo walk over to their golden throne and take a seat there. She watched Hefe softly approach and curl up by Khleo’s ankles.

Khleo got comfortable and snug before closing their eyes and breathing in long and deep. She had a thought, which yielded a glass mug to materialize in her hand. Beer collected and bubbled up to the top until foam was spilling out onto her knuckles. But the barhand didn’t break her relaxation to lick up the mess. She would see to it later.

For now she was calm. Not like the tall woman in the background watching over her. Not even like the great, pale lioness resting at her feet.

All of Khleo’s calmness and control came from within.

#the arcana #arcana albums #arcana albums: strength #khleo the barhand #kipling the apprentice #ozy the grey mage #asra alnazar #nadia satrinava #the arcana fanfiction #the arcana fanfic #the arcana fic #my writing

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dzamie-oc · 3 years ago

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14 - Sea

I just... I really like that "here there be dragons" thing, okay? It got the imaginations of old timey bards and seafaring boasters going, and it gets me thinking about dragons, too.

Length: 1600 words Rating: G Summary: A sailor goes exploring in what he thinks are uncharted waters. He finds them perfectly charted.

-----

William checked his boat’s navigator against the old map spread on the table. It wasn’t a treasure map, and a lot of the handwriting on it was barely this side of legible, but it was one of his father’s most prized possessions, and he intended to finish it. The old man had always insisted to him that it already had been, but Will was no fool. Written on the space just - he checked his speed - just five minutes away was, in large script, “Here There Be Dragons.” He��d tried to explain to his dad that that was what old cartographers would write in unexplored areas, where the unknown was speculated to have fantastical, unreal beasts, but all that ever got him was a condescending smile and a shake of his head.

He wasn’t going to deface the map, of course; he was raised better than to mistreat old heirlooms. He was, however, going to fill in the region on a copy he’d made. Probably with some little doodles of fish, unless an island popped up real soon. Until then, of course, there was little reason not to enjoy the salty sea air, so Will set the navigation computer and strolled out onto the deck to watch and listen to the waves.

The sun shone splendidly down with only a few clouds in the sky, and its light glittered off the wide, open waters. Will half wished he’d brought some fishing equipment, though admitted to himself that it would mostly be there for habit - an excuse to just sit back and relax while pretending not to be wasting time. After motoring to the middle of the “Here There Be Dragons,” noting the surprisingly shallow depth on the fathometer, and anchoring his vessel, the amateur sailor went around the deck, trying to see anything of note in the area. He thought he caught a glimpse of a fish over one side, but other than that, nothing, after the better part of half an hour.

He made a note of the somewhat shallow water on his map, and went to draw the anchor back up. However, the thought of relaxing in calm waters tugged at his mind, so he stayed his hand and instead settled himself in a chair outside the cabin. After all, he reasoned, he had budgeted ample time to explore an uncharted island or a somehow still-floating derelict, so he might as well use it for a nap. And like that, to the sounds of the waves ebbing and flowing atop the water, and gently slapping against the boat’s hull, he let himself fall asleep.

“...rwater? Captain Bradley? Is that you? Wow, time has been good to you!” a female voice said, rousing William from sleep.

Groggy, the sailor stretched, then squinted towards the voice, shading his eyes with his hand. “Miss? Who... why are you out so far? There’s nothing here.”

The voice made a confused noise. “Hm? I live here, don’t you remember? Oh no, did you somehow lose your memory?”

William shook his head. “Gimme a second, here.” He rose from his chair and stumbled slightly, catching himself on what felt like damp leather. “Thanks, but ma’am, you’re soaked!” Finally, he was able to clear his vision and adjust to the sunlight once again, and nearly fainted dead away at the sight.

“Well, SOME of us swim through the water,” said the scaly, blue-green... creature. One forepaw was outstretched to keep William balanced, and her hindlegs were easily a dozen feet past that. She resembled an eel, with her long body and her even longer tail, sporting a single fin down her length, and her head was almost avian with its triangular shape and beak-like muzzle, except she was absolutely covered in scales, and sported a single horn right below her eyes. The shape of her face didn’t lend itself to smiling, and nor do many animals express themselves with a smile, but the tone of her voice told him plainly of her happy, playful attitude.

Will realized he was staring, and tried to figure out whether it was more important that he was staring at a very large, potentially carnivorous creature with claws and what must be a powerful tail, or staring for an awfully long time at someone who thought she was familiar with him. Before he could come to a conclusion, however, the creature drew back and veritably strutted about the deck, striking a pose and showing off the profile of her horned head. “Hey, I hardly blame you for looking, when what you’ve got to look at is a dragoness as beautiful as me. But, seriously, are you okay, Bradley? You’ve hardly said a word.”

“Sorry, who do you think I am? I’ve never been out here,” Will admitted, then took a careful step towards the cabin. “Please don’t kill me.”

“You’re not Captain Bradley Clearwater?” the dragon asked, “then... why do you have his boat? And look just like him?”

“No, I’m William Clearwater,” he replied, half out of habit, “Bradley was my fa-”

The two of them stopped and stared at each other in shocked silence as the pieces clicked into place.

“Bradley had a kid!?” she shouted and rushed towards Will. “And he didn’t TELL me!?”

Will, to his credit, displayed a phenomenal reaction time, diving away from the lunging sea monster. Peering out from the cabin door, he saw her hesitate, then take a step back. “Also, uh,” she said with less energy than earlier, “I’m not going to kill you. Or, well, I’d rather not. Decency aside, Bradley would be pissed if I killed his kid.”

The sailor took a tentative step out of the cabin, though stayed close by and warily eyed the dragon. “Okay, first thing’s first, I’m dreaming, right? Fell asleep on the open ocean, and my mind is making up some sort of benevolent sea monster who knows my dad?”

The creature shook her head. “I don’t think so, unless you’ve been asleep for longer than you’ve been alive. I’m just one of the only dragons who let humans see us. How is Bradl- your dad, anyway? It’s been awhile.”

“He...” Will sighed. “He passed away a few years ago. That’s why I have his boat.”

“Oh. And you came to tell me the news?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t even know you existed - er, no offense. I just came because of a map he made that had been bugging me.”

“Ooh, a treasure map?” She stepped forward, her body lightly wiggling from nose to tail. “Can I see?”

Will looked at her still-wet body, and thought of the aged paper map. “I’ll... here, let me show you the copy I made. It’s not a treasure map.” He ducked in, grabbed his map from the table, and walked over, holding it so they both could see. “See, the only difference was that his map had a “Here There Be Dragons” in this empty spot, so I came to finish exploring.” He blinked, then looked at her. “Also, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“Well, if you were your dad, I wouldn’t have needed to tell you, so I haven’t yet. I’m Carol,” Carol said. “If that’s the only difference, I’d say it is a treasure map.”

“Wait, what?” Will stared frantically all over the map, looking for some hint or clue or anything that he might have missed, that Carol had somehow seen immediately. “How?”

“The real one says “Here There Be Dragons,” right?” She stepped back and raised a forepaw to her scaly chest, standing proud. “I’m the treasure!”

“No, it’s a shorthand that medieval cartographers used to represent... ah, nevermind.” Will smiled. “In that case, I think I’d like to get to know this treasure, at least for a couple of hours before I head back.”

“Awesome, I love talking about myself!” Carol chirped. “Plus, you definitely have to catch me up on the last... three hundred moons or so?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Will returned his map to the cabin, then emerged onto the deck once more to pass the time with his unexpected guest.

-----

Dragon and sailor spent the next few hours talking, teaching each other about their cultures, and just hanging out in general. By the time William had to leave, he had grown bold enough to ask if he could feel her scales - on purpose, this time, and Carol was more than happy to show him just where on her head to rub, and then joked that now, he was obligated to do that more, the next time he visited. After he said his goodbyes, Carol dove over the side of the boat and into the water. It surprised William, how little her leap made the boat rock back and forth, and what small splash she made, in spite of being easily four or five times as long as he was tall.

Carol helped lift the anchor, even though William tried to explain that it was an automatic thing now. Once it was all up, they bid farewell one last time, and then William started up the engine. With Carol keeping her neck and one forepaw above the water, the two waved at each other for a bit as they receded into their respective distances, and then the dragon vanished beneath the waves, leaving the man to his thoughts.

William looked at his map, thinking about his original plan for the trip - to prove to himself (and his father’s memory) that the map really was incomplete. He stared at the little mark he made on his map, noting the unexpectedly shallower waters he dropped anchor in. And, with a confident, humorous smile he suspected looked like the one his dad gave him whenever he brought up the old map, William put pen to paper, making sure to write in the correct place, and write legibly:

“Here There Be Dragons”

#dragon #dragons #smaugust #sea serpent #sailing #writing #writers on tumblr #smaugust 2021 #sea #sea dragon #text

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stillebesat · 5 years ago

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Scales (6/7)

Sanders Sides: Logan, Deceit, Virgil, Roman, Patton Blurb: Deceit hadn’t expected his absence from the Mindscape to be noticed by the others…until Logic knocked on his door. Fic Type: General Warnings: Shedding (snake style), Minor Injuries, Minor Pain, Touch Starvation, Death Talk Taglist in Reblog.

To Catch Up: Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Deceit had never thought of his scales as being beautiful. They’d made him a freak. An outcast among the others even among the Dark Sides. Their color always the same ugly shade of yellow green as the crayon in a Crayola pack. A visible sign of Thomas’s dislike of him.

Sure, they were always slightly brighter, slightly less ugly right after his sheds, but he’d never thought of them as…

Deceit licked his lips, frozen in place as he stared at the new patch of scales Roman’s technique had revealed.

Scales that--that were--Deceit could only think of them as beautiful. Iridescent. Shining like precious gems. The old sickly yellow had vanished, replaced instead with a vibrant display of golden yellows fading into emerald green which in turn faded to obsidian black.

Gingerly, not quite believing that this was real, he pulled free of Virgil’s grip to lightly touch the exposed patch, his fingers running over the smooth edges.

“Whoa.” Patton whispered, his own hand hovering above Deceit’s. “You have rainbows on you, Ly!”

He paused, heart skipping a beat as one finger hovered over the black areas of his scales. Morality was right. Where the scales had darkened, he could see rainbows shimmering across their surface.

Rainbows. A visible sign of acceptance.

He couldn’t believe it. Believe that--that they would appear...on him.

“Almost.” Logan said, leaning forward to rest his head on Deceit’s human shoulder, breath ghosting across his cheek as he spoke. “It’s probably part of the composition of the scales and the light refracting off of them that--”

“They’re so...bea--bright.” Deceit whispered, unable to bring himself to speak the word ‘beautiful’ out loud. He was a Dark Side. He wasn’t meant to be...to be--”

“Bright? They’re perfectly glowingly gorgeous, my Lion King.” Roman proclaimed. “Exactly like a true Dragon’s scales should be!” He gave him a soft, pleased smile. “You have dragon scales.”

He had dragon scales.

Creativity’s idea had worked.

The tightness in his chest eased.

He could finally get his shed off.

“Well...if we’re all done gawking.” Virgil said, raising an eyebrow to Roman as he pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie. “Perhaps we should get a move on? I was under the impression Dee’s shed should have been off like...three days ago.”

“Correct.” Logan cleared his throat as he pulled back, leaving Deceit’s shoulder feeling bare and cold.

Deceit swallowed, human hand twitching as he fought the urge to pull Logan near again. It was...unexpected, this...feeling. How quickly he’d grown to like having the others touching him. He just wanted to--to--

As if reading his mind, Logan rested a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it. “Since the test has obviously worked, what do we do next, Roman?”

Creativity grinned, spreading his arms wide. “Well. First I need to set the proper scene. The commons is hardly warm enough for this to work properly.”

Deceit blinked, looking around the living room. He couldn’t see why it wouldn’t work here. “Scene?” Couldn’t Roman just conjure more ash to--

“A beach!”

Virgil made a face, pulling his hoodie over his head, hiding his eyes. “Oh goodie. Heat stroke.”

Roman shot him a look. “That’s what summer clothes are for Emo Edgelord.”

“Nope. You are not getting rid of my hoodie!”

“Wasn’t planning on it Dark and Stormy, You’ll have a hoodie just watch--” Roman snapped his fingers.

The living room vanished in the blink of an eye replaced by the view of an ocean with waves gently lapping against the shore.

Deceit inhaled, automatically lifting his head up to the sun burning overhead, his body already warming under the intense heat that was much stronger than what he could create in his room. Yet...he glanced from the corner of his eye to Logan. The sun’s rays weren’t as penetrating as he’d expected them to be. No...compared to the fire emanating from Logan’s steady hand, the sun’s heat barely seemed to scratch the surface.

“MY EYES!” Virgil complained, jerking the hood of his now light purple jacket over his head as the carpet of the living room shifted to the same opalescent volcanic dust Creativity had conjured earlier. “ROMAN!”

Dust that felt so soft and warm...that it took all Deceit’s control to not bury himself in it then and there.

Even if he did have dragon scales, he wasn’t the Dragon Witch. He wouldn’t copy her. No. He wouldn’t! He---

“Hey! I can’t control the brightness of the sun, Dr. Gloom!”

Virgil hissed, glaring at him under his hood. “You’re Crea--”

“I know what I am. That doesn’t mean I can make the sun darker! Especially not if we want--”

“A Beach party!” Patton pumped his hand in the air, now wearing blue swim shorts with white hearts on them. “Come on Virge! We can bury LyLy in sand-”

“Ash.” Logan corrected softly in Deceit’s ear as he again moved, carefully urging him to lay down.

Ash that felt really good against the shed right now. At least better than the sweat sodden blankets he’d been under earlier.

Despite his best intentions to not copy what the Dragon Witch apparently did, Deceit didn’t need any further urging before he rolled onto his left side, wriggling to bury himself into the soft opalescent dust as quickly as possible. He let out a soft sigh of pleasure, his tense muscles already relaxing.

He had to admit...this didn’t feel half bad.

“-and turn him into a mermaid sculpture!”

Roman chuckled, shaking his head as he moved with practiced grace to help partially bury Deceit, making sure his neck and head were supported while also ensuring that none of the shed was showing and that he could still breathe.. “Mermaid Deceit. That’s something. Though I would think more of an Eel--”

“What about a Naga? That’s more fitting for Dee’s style.” Virgil muttered, carefully mounding the ash up around Deceit’s head, covering his hair as he raised an eyebrow to him.

Deceit made a face, careful to not get any ash in his mouth as he resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Annie. He much preferred having legs thank you very much.

“A Naga?” Patton asked as he energetically pushed ash up and over Deceit’s stomach to cover the shed there.

“Half snake, Pat?”

“Oh...well--”

Personally, and Annie was well aware of this, Deceit had always been drawn more to spiders than snakes. But with his scaled complexion and Morality’s now known fear of arachnids...it wasn’t a topic he felt he could bring up.

He closed his human eye, slowly exhaling as he went still, his shed covered fingers digging deeper into the ash as Logan settled next to him, gently running his fingers through his regular hair.

“Why not go build a sand castle or play in the ocean or something?” He mumbled, leaning into Logan’s hand as his fingers continued to run through his hair. The others could go have their beach party while he just--

“And just LEAVE you?!” Morality demanded, sounding scandalized as he patted Deceit’s leg. “No siree, mister! We’re. Staying. Right. Here!”

“It’s not like this will take as long as the Dragon Witch.” Roman said with a shrug. “Just be sure to not move too much. The shed will only come off without issue if it’s evenly and properly dried out before we remove it.”

It made sense, though it still didn’t make sense that the others were actually wanting to...stick around to help him with this. “How long?” He asked, half curling up so his head was pressed against Logan’s leg, taking more comfort in having the Logical Side near him. He knew Lo would prevent the other three from doing something stupid and this--

This felt...felt so nice. Having them around. Not...screaming or being horrified. He never would have thought that they--that they cared--that this---would happen. That they would help a Dark Side like this. That they would consider him to be...Family.

“Well--depending on what size she is when the shed takes her...it can last up to a week before I’m called in to help--”

“A WEEK!” Virgil repeated.

Deceit opened his human eye, tilting it so he could see Anxiety. “If mine can take up to three days at my size...it’s not surprising it could take her longer.” Though he would have to arrange to...see...if not meet this Dragon Witch at some point. He’d been under the impression she was a full dragon. Perhaps there was more merit to the ‘witch’ part of Dragon Witch than he originally thought.

“Exactly! And I mean...that’s just what she’s told me.” Roman looked away. “Honestly, I do believe that she’s not being fully truthful on how long it actually takes. You know...to keep me from taking advantage of her during that time.” He ran a hand through his hair, a slight frown on his face. “Like I’d strike a worthy opponent when they’re down.” He mumbled in such a way Deceit was sure no one else was meant to hear it.

“But he’s already been this way for six days Roman!” Virgil hissed. “Are you saying we have to wait one more for it to work?”

“That is currently unknown. With the change in his scales, Lyal’s timeline may have altered.” Logan shrugged a shoulder, trailing his fingers down the side of Deceit’s neck. “There really is no way to know for sure how long this will take until his next shed when we can give him the proper setup from the onset.” He reached, adjusting his glasses, eyes sparking with interest. “I would expect with how quickly the ash worked on his test spot, that we should not have to wait long though.”

True. Deceit flexed his fingers underneath the ash, the corner of his lip quirking upwards. His mobility had always been extremely limited under the shed. Being able to move his fingers now before doing anything to get rid of the shed had to be a good sign.

“So we just...wait?” Patton asked, fidgeting as he piled ash up and over his legs even though Deceit had no scales there needing to be covered. “Then use the brush--”

“To remove it, yes.” Roman confirmed. “I can show you how to do it so it won’t hurt-- I mean, it took me a time or two with the Dragon Witch nearly biting off my head to learn how.”

“And with how long Lyal’s been in shed, we do not want to mess this up for him.” Logan cut in.

Deceit swallowed, heart skipping a beat. No...he really--if this was all some sort of trick--if Roman had made this all up. He’d--He’d---

“Oh yah. You do not want to get on Dee’s dar--well darker side.” Virgil said. “You do not want to see that--”

“Well I’m sure our mighty Lion King here will be less snappy at least, he doesn’t have the fangs after all to---”

Deceit raised his human hand, heart pounding in his ears as Roman fell silent, his hands hovering over his mouth just shy of completely covering it as everyone else froze.

“Ly?” Creativity breathed out softly.

If it had been his scaled hand doing the controlling, Roman wouldn’t be able to speak at all.

“I don’t really need fangs now do I to express my displeasure?” He asked, trying to smirk though he could feel his lips trembling as he met Creativity’s wide eyes before letting his hand fall limply back to the ground, freeing the other from his control.

He let out a shaky breath, pressing the scaled side of his face back into the ash, closing his human eye to block out seeing the others.

A mistake. He shouldn’t have reacted so. They wouldn’t want---Creativity was helping him! And he’d just! He shouldn’t have--but THIS COULD GO SO WRONG.

“Lyal.” Deceit jumped, eye opening wide as Roman gently pressed his palm against his cheek. “I promise you. Nothing will go wrong. I’ve had years of experience helping the Dragon Witch now. Your scales will be perfectly pristine when this is over.”

So he said. But Creativity wouldn’t have to live with the consequences would he if this didn’t work right.

His scales malformed.

His arm left useless.

His face--

“Dude.” Virgil laid a trembling hand on his elbow, squeezing it. “Stop with the internal panicking already. We’re not going to let anything go wrong.”

“He has a valid reason to be worried, Virge.” Logan said before Deceit could do more than bare his teeth and hiss at the former dark side. His fingers trailed through Deceit’s hair. “We are asking Lyal to put a lot of trust in us currently. This is a huge step. For all of. One with an uncertain outcome for him.”

Roman scoffed, rubbing his thumb along Deceit’s cheek. “Uncertain! What do--I told you! It’s exactly like the Dragon Witch!”

“We’re not going to hurt you, Ly.” Patton whispered, patting his knee. “We’re FamILY! We’ll be very very very careful with your scales!”

It was one thing to hear it.

Totally another to let them--Deceit jerked, crying out as a wave of ice seemed to cascade through him like an avalanche. COLD! He rolled onto Logan’s lap, flinging ash onto the others as he pressed his face against Logic’s chest with a sob, grabbing onto his arm in a white knuckled grip, seeking to soak up every inch of warmth that Logic could give him.

Logan immediately wrapped his arms around him in a firey embrace compared to the glacier of ice running down his side. “Lyal--”

“COLD.” He gasped out through gritted teeth, his shed covered arm held close to his chest as he stared down to the now blackened shed that made him look like a partially burned corpse.

The test spot hadn’t felt like this. It had been warm!

Something was wrong.

IT HAD GONE WRONG.

He had to get it off.

NOW.

He released Logan to grab at his ash covered shoulder, fingers digging at the shed before they were abruptly blocked by a currying brush appearing in his hand, sending a cloud of ash flying off his shoulder.

“Gently, Decepticon.” Roman commanded softly, carefully pulling Deceit’s arm away from his chest. He offered him a calming smile as he placed his own brush on Deceit’s wrist, quickly working over the area with an experienced hand, the shed flaking away just like it had before, revealing scales that looked exactly the same as the ones on his stomach. “It probably feels like you were just dipped in a bucket of ice, but you don’t want to tear it off like that band-aid do you?”

Deceit bit back a whine, shaking as Roman’s brush changed to a toothbrush to delicately work on his fingers. Cold was normal? HOW COULD IT BE NORMAL? “N-n-n-no.”

“Then do what I do.” Roman said, eyes silently pleading as he worked the bristles over a knuckle. “You’ll be fine.”

He--he just--Deceit forced himself to copy Creativity and move his own currying brush in small circles, despite everything within him screaming to just tear it away.

This was a delicate process. He couldn’t rush---Deceit whimpered, his body trembling violently as another wave of ice washed through him, skirting around the areas already freed from the shed.

He hated this. HATED IT. This wasn’t like the other sheds at all. Was this gonna happen every time?? “Can’t this go faster?” He hissed out.

It was cold. So cold. He could barely feel the sun blazing over his head now. Only Logan’s heat against him had--

He stilled as warm fingers trailed along his scaled cheek. “Remember you’re not alone, Lyal. Not anymore.” Logan said into his ear as he gently scrubbed at the shed near Deceit’s ear with his own soft bristled brush.

“That’s right!” Patton said, going for his side, working near his naval. “You’ll be free from it soon enough, sport. Many hands means less work!”

“Makes light work.” Logan corrected. “Though I suppose your sentiment works as well, Pat.”

“Is there a procedure for hair, Princey?” Virgil asked hesitantly from behind. “I can work on that.”

Roman hummed, glancing up to his hair, before shaking his head. “Not that I’m familiar with. That’s one thing that’s different from the Dragon Witch. She’s never had anything happen with her hair if the shed took her when she was more human.”

Virgil exhaled. “That’s so not helpful.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry, Princey. I’ll---figure it out.” Virgil said, flashing a comb before he set to work on the waxy covered bits of his hair.

Deceit took a steadying breath, his own attempts to free his shoulder becoming less frantic as he got distracted watching the others work, freeing more and more gleaming multi-colored scales from the shed.

His fingers twitched one by one as Roman carefully freed them, revealing nails that had darkened and grown sharp, looking more like talons than human fingernails.

“Those feel alright?” Creativity murmured, looking up to meet Deceit’s eye as he finished with his thumb. “Move them around. Open and Close. Did I miss anything there? A stray piece of shed caught in a crevice?”

Deceit flexed and wiggled his fingers before clenching them into a fist, the talons scraping along his palm, but not drawing blood despite there being no scales there.

“Seems fine.” He whispered, careful to not move his head too much so that Logan and Virgil wouldn’t accidentally hurt him as he let his hand fall open, noting how pink his palm was compared to the scales on the other side. Again he pressed his talons against the flesh.

“Careful.” Roman warned. “I’m pretty sure you can draw blood if you try hard enough.”

True, even regular human nails could do that. “Talons.” He said, unable to hide his disbelief. He had talons now.

“And...maybe a horn?” Virgil offered. “There’s a...bump here. I thought it was just a clump of hair stuck together, but--”

Deceit stiffened before forcing himself to relax. “You’re kidding right? Please say you are.” That was just another--WHY A HORN!?

“I’m not actually. Feel for yourself.”

He really didn’t want to. Why a horn?! What next? Wings? A TAIL? How much of a dragon exactly was he supposed to become with Thomas’s supposed growing ‘acceptance’ of him?!

Letting his brush fall to the ash, he reluctantly reached up with his human hand, so as to let Roman continue working on removing the shed on his arm, to his hair. “Where?”

“Here.” Virgil guided him to a spot a couple inches above his ear.

Calling it a bump was an understatement. Deceit made a face as he felt the sharp point of what could only be the beginnings of a horn. “WHY?” He complained, dropping his hand, digging his fingers into the ash.

He didn’t WANT horns. The talons were enough to deal with! Why did there have to be a horn too? Would it grow longer with each subsequent shed he went through? How long before he wouldn’t be able to wear his hat?!

“Like I said before, dragons are much cooler than snakes.” Roman said, working on his elbow.

“You’re not the one with the horn, Princey.” Deceit shot back, tilting his head as Logan began working on his ear.

At least with snake scales he only had to worry about the scales and his hair! He didn’t have the first idea on what sort of care a horn needed, or the talons or...or even the dragon scales themselves!

“I’m sure the Dragon Witch can teach you!” Patton said, giving him a bright smile.

Great. Being taught by a figment of the imagination. What next?

“I think Patton’s done with your chest, Lyal.” Logan remarked, brushing the back of his neck. “If you would be so kind as to turn over, we can better access the shed back there.”

He exhaled, twisting to rest his head against Logan’s chest so he could give the others better access to his back. So help him if they discovered a wing back there.

Still….this...this wasn’t so bad.

With Roman coaching the others whenever they hesitated the process was going a lot quicker than it would have had he been attempting to remove the shed by himself.

He ducked his head, watching the rainbows dance across the blackened parts of his scales as the others worked, a shiver running through him as he felt the brushes vanish in favor of soft cloths being rubbed against his scales.

If this was what being part of the FamILY meant…having everyone work together like this...to help him.

Perhaps it wasn’t so bad to be...accep--included.

“Lyal.” Logan’s breath ghosted over his scaled cheek. “I’m going to remove the shed cap over your eye, do not move.”

A faint pressure around his snake eye and suddenly bright sunlight streamed into it, nearly blinding him. Deceit winced, tears blurring his vision as he blinked for the first time in nearly a week, easing the irritation of having had it open for so long.

“And done!” Roman proclaimed with a final swipe of his polishing cloth, gesturing for Virgil and Patton to sit back, though both appeared reluctant to do so, their fingers lingering on his scales.

He couldn’t blame them.

Creativity snapped his fingers, a large mirror appearing in his hands as he tilted it so that Deceit could see his reflection for the first time.

Deceit froze. Staring wide eyed at the image confronting him.

And he’d thought he’d forgotten how to breathe before.

“So~? Whatcha think?” Roman asked, fidgeting in place.

Deceits shakily inhaled, as he slowly brought a hand up to his face, feeling the smooth scales there as he pushed away from Logan, shivering from the lack of heat as he sat up to get a better look at his new scales shining like a hoard of gemstones in the sunlight.

Beautiful.

He couldn’t look away. “Is...is that really...me?” He asked in disbelief.

It had to be hadn’t it? This wasn’t some sort of cruel trick?

Virgil squeezed his shoulder, smirking in the mirror. “It’s surprising isn’t it?” He said, softly. “What changes when you’re accepted.”

Changes. Had Virgil--but this couldn’t--this was really was him? Deceit moved his taloned hand, the one in the mirror copying him exactly as he ran his fingers along his cheek, delicately touching the now pointed tip of his ear, before running up through his hair that now had golden highlights similar to Virgil’s own purple ones, feeling the obsidian colored horn barely visible there.

And then there was his eye, no longer a cold pale yellow, the iris seemed to dance with an inner fire, flickering between orange and gold as an array of emotions rushed through him.

Beautiful.

He--He was…

Deceit ducked his head, blinking rapidly as his eyes burned with unshed tears.

A Dark Side shouldn’t cry. Shouldn’t appear weak in front of the others in front of his--

Family.

“You--” He swallowed hard over the lump forming in his throat as he ran his hand down his scales. Free. Finally free of the shed. He lifted his left hand, stretching it fully out and flexing his fingers. Watching as the rainbows shimmered over the scales. Unmarred. Working perfectly.

It--it---He looked up to Roman, Patton, Virgil and finally Logan their heat signatures now haloed around them now that his sna--dragon eye could see them properly. “Thank you.” He managed to choke out.

Without their help--he had no idea how he could have--what would have--if he hadn’t come--if Logan hadn’t convinced him to--

Roman relaxed, offering him a nod and a soft smile in return.

“Of course, LyLy.” Patton said his own eyes shimmering with tears as he grinned wide. “We’re here to help you no matter what.”

“And since the major crisis appears to be over.” Logan said, a tinge of awe in his voice as his fingers ghosted along Deceit’s scales. “We should now focus on the more minor issue of getting you something to eat. Maybe that soup I mentioned earlier.” A small smile played on his lips when Deceit’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

He flushed, watching how the reds in the rainbows on his scaled cheek grew brighter than the other colors right before the mirror vanished, leaving him staring directly at the delighted look on Roman’s face. He looked away. “Ah...probably.”

Already he could feel his mouth watering at the thought of having something warm going down his throat. Soup would do for now. Though honestly---Pizza too would be good--no he’d better be careful to not eat too much solid food right away after so long a fast.

“Eat?” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Now?”

Deceit shrugged, grimacing as his stomach growled again. “Yes? I...haven’t since--” He gestured to his scales.

“Wait.” Virgil grabbed his wrist, the shadows under his eyes growing dark. “You’re telling me...you haven’t eaten in SIX days?”

“WHAT!” Patton cried, shooting his feet, sending up a small cloud of ash as he did so. “No! No no no we can’t have that mister!”

“Why in the world would you--” Virgil demanded.

Deceit rolled his eyes. Oh, like Anxiety was one to talk about not eating for long periods of time! It wasn’t his fault he missed a week. “I can’t when I’m shedding, Annie.”

Would it be the same now though? With his scales now taking after a dragon’s instead of a snakes?

“Well, we can’t have you wait a second more LyLy! Soup’s coming. Hold on. I’ll be right back!” Patton turned, the beach scene shimmering around him as he vanished from sight.

“Perhaps while Patton is getting that...it would be best for us to return to the living room, Roman.” Logan suggested as he too moved to his feet, offering a hand for Deceit to take. “Lyal will probably be more comfortable resting on the couch while we wait for his long overdue meal.”

Roman scoffed, raising his hand towards the sun as if to grab it. “Couch?! Living room?! How dull!”

Deceit glanced up to the sun as he took Logan’s hand, shakily getting to his feet. “Honestly...compared to the excitement I’ve been through today…” He barely flinched as Logic scooped him up into his arms, holding him securely before his knees could buckle again.

Logan shot him another small smile. “Save your strength.” He cautioned.

Deceit sighed and nodded, resting his head against Logan’s chest without complaint, enjoying how the warmth was less...antagonizing to him now that he was free from the shed. “Dull sounds rather good to me Roman.”

“Total Mood, Dee. Anything to get away from the fire demon in the sky.” Virgil said, again adjusting his lighter hoodie over his eyes.

“But what if we had an epic midnight beach party instead?!” Roman asked as he lowered his hand, the sun moving down towards the horizon with the gesture.

“Ohhh.” Virgil rolled his eyes, pushing his hood back. “You can make the sun set whenever you want and yet you can’t lessen the intensity of its heat?”

“Hey!” Roman whirled pointing a finger at Anxiety. “Having Heat without Light is rather difficult to manage Dr. Gloom! The right conditions had to be met for Lya---”

“Yah, yah. Heat helps the shed, gotcha.” Virgil exhaled, glancing up to the stars that were appearing in the sky as the last rays of the sun vanished.

At least he still had Logan’s heat to rely on with the sun now gone. Deceit fought not to shiver. “What does this...party entail exactly?” He asked.

If it was just sitting in the dark staring at the stars, he’d have to do a hard pass. Not even a thick blanket and Logan’s stories about the constellations would be enough to convince him to sit in the cold so soon after finishing the shedding process.

“Well, I was thinking we could have a fire.” Roman snapped his fingers, a roaring campfire appearing near enough to Logan and Deceit that he could already feel the heat from the flames.

Deceit reached out with his scaled hand, humming as the fire warmed his skin. Not as hot as the sun, or Logan’s body heat, but it was...nice.

“Can’t have our Halfling Dragon getting cold now can we?” Creativity said with a wink.

“But you can have me die from heat stroke?”

“Oh hush, Count Dracula. I kept your hoodie! You can’t tell me--”

Halfing Dragon? Deceit made a face at that. Just because he had the dragon scales and the talons and the horns and…okay, he’d have to think of a better argument on why he wasn’t a...Halfling.

“Ooooh a campfire! Perfect!” Patton exclaimed, suddenly popping back into view, once more in his normal clothes, with a large pot in his hands. It shifted to what looked like Virgil’s Halloween Cauldron complete with a thin metal handle as he moved to the flames. “I thought I smelt the smoke! I can easily make the soup over it like in those adventure stories!” He said as a pole and hook appeared for him to hang the pot on so it hung directly in the middle of the fire.

Patton studied it, making minute adjustments to the pot before nodding to himself in satisfaction as he pulled out a long wooden spoon to stir the contents inside.

“Exactly! We could even watch a Western movie!” Roman exclaimed as a large screen appeared behind him, the fire growing smaller so as to not compete with the light shining on the screen showing the Disney logo as the ash rose up around them forming large couches for everyone to sprawl on with a multiple of blankets piled nearby.

“There’s a Disney movie that’s Western?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why yes, Zorro.” Roman grinned, looking pleased with himself. “The Lone Ranger was made by Disney was it not?”

Anxiety smirked. “My my, Princey. You can actually watch shows that aren’t a cartoon?”

“HEY!”

Deceit’s nostrils flared, and he leaned towards the pot as the scent of chicken noodle soup wafted over to him, ignoring the other two’s bickering. “That smells awf--” He cut off, making a face as he quickly corrected himself. “Amazing, Pat.”

“Lying?” Logan asked in an undertone as he sat both of them down on the couch nearest the fire so that Deceit could stay warm. “I take it the compulsion is coming back now that the shed is over?”

Deceit exhaled as he adjusted his position so he was more comfortable resting against Logic. “No.”

Great. Now he’d have to be more conscious of how he spoke to the others again. Why couldn’t the shift to dragon scales have altered that particular quirk of his? That would have been extremely helpful. But nooo. He had to grow a horn instead.

“Mhmmm.” Logan raised an eyebrow, eyes glittering with humor. “Pretty sure that’s a falsehood, Lyal.”

Deceit stuck out his tongue as he grabbed a blanket to pull over them. “Forget what I said.”

Logan chuckled, his fingers again running through his hair, moving in slow circles around the small horn. “I know.” He said softly. “You can’t always not lie. As Logic, I won’t forget that. I promise, we’ll work with you as your FamILY so it won’t be an issue.”

Family.

Butterflies danced in his stomach as Deceit partially curled up to make room for Annie to sit by his feet like a silent guardian gargoyle, watching as Roman and Patton worked together to get the soup and the movie ready.

He had to admit, he was growing rather fond of the concept.

To Be Continued Epilogue

#Scales #stillbesat #Sanders Sides #Deceit #Logan #Roman #Virgil #Patton #Logic #Creativity #Anxiety #Morality #shedding tw #minor injuries tw #minor pain tw #touch starvation tw #death talk tw

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red-the-dragon-writes · 3 years ago

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Today's post is not on the usual "writer blog fare" side. Instead I am going to introduce you to several fun facts about various animals on our planet and then talk about worldbuilding.

1. Lampreys are a kind of "living fossil"- a not-really-so-scientific term for a creature that has lived unchanged for a very long time, so long that we have fossils of them looking the same way they do now. They don't have proper jaws, just a circular sucking mouth with teeth set into it and a tongue designed to strip flesh off of what it touches. They're finless fish, look quite a bit like eels, and have this really alien, uncanny vibe to them.

[id: a long, slender bluish-silver lamprey sitting among rocks. It has a long snout, an eye, and then six small perforations in its side arranged at an even interval sitting behind the eye. The environment it is sitting in is very yellow and green in comparison. end id]

[id: an image of a lamprey from below. The snout ends in a round, flat mouth which is studded with teeth in four concentric circles. The teeth are smallest near the outer edge and largest in the middle, and look like very sharp round points. In the center of this ring is another, smaller circle, where the pointed, tooth-like tongue can be seen, as well as a hole for the lamprey to actually ingest food with. Its eye is visible, as are some of the perforations on its side. This one is a more mottled gray than the first one was, and less shiny. end id]

Sea lampreys, which are the kind i've sort of not really kinda researched, are a major pest in the Great Lakes, where they regularly attack fish. They can get up to two feet in length. Despite this, they are not particularly dangerous towards humans.

2. Horseshoe crabs are also "living fossils." They've been around and virtually unchanged for millions of years. They're not true crabs, and are more closely related to chelicerata species, like spiders and scorpions (and many more). There are a lot of cool features of horseshoe crabs, but one of their most extremely cool, to me, is their blood.

I'm not going to post any images of what I consider to be animal cruelty, so you'll have to take me at my word here, but this is a bottle of horseshoe crab blood. If you're sensitive to images of animal cruelty, I don't recommend looking for proof, but if you aren't, there are plenty of images of the blood coming out of the creature for you to verify this with.

E[id: a bottle of slightly frothy, opaque blue liquid. It is sitting in a row with several other bottles of the same material. end id]

I am a sucker for blue blood, I just think it's neat, so that's all I'd need as an excuse to slam some horseshoe-crab-inspired nonsense in my exceptionally gory and fucked up wips, and if you've been reading along with WiB you may have noticed that blue blood does come into play at some point! But that's not all that's neat about horseshoe crab blood. Unfortunately for the horseshoe crabs, but fortunately for us, their blood is literally the only source of an important compound used for detecting the presence of dangerous bacteria in certain pharmaceutical drugs. (Fortunately, there are replacements that will hopefully become more popular in coming years.)

Now that we've gone over all that, onto the worldbuilding!

I worldbuild by Rule of Cool. Let's just get that out of the way. Every so often people will ask me how my worlds get so expansive (not WiB, WiB i made up on the fly by cribbing from fanfic and like... BBC Merlin. Assume very little of this holds true for WiB) and the answer is largely that I take every interest I have ever had in anything and smash it all together and throw it at my wip to see what sticks. and then I just... like... reasonably attempt to figure out what the natural conclusions will be.

So: we have lampreys. We have blue-blooded ancient sea creatures with spectacularly important and valueable blood. We are writing this into a story that takes place on land, somehow.

- The first option, and the one I'm going to talk about most because I did it, is just to rule-of-cool it into a character. (Or a place, or an item, or whatever, but largely I do rule-of-cool on living creatures and think harder about the world around them.) If you've been keeping up with WiB, you may have noticed that (spoilers) Zero Point is some kind of fucked up magician with a lamprey mouth in their hand who shapeshifts and bleeds blue. This is where I got those inspirations from (along with, like, some other stuff. I promise there are no lamprey assassins, but- continuing in the trend of stealing from sea creatures- the bobbin worm is a spectacularly beautiful, spectacularly deadly creature if you're within its weight range. which is like, goldfish size, but. And cuttlefish are known to disguise themselves as other animals, and can change sexes if the male:female ratio where they are isn't ideal.)

So you can take the elements you like, and just kind of slam them together haphazardly, which is what I did with Zero Point. The trick to this kind of worldbuilding is just to avoid looking too closely at it. The magical assassin has a fucked up mouth in their hand? Yeah, okay, that seems kind of fucked up and creepy. What do they do at all times? They hide it under a glove. So the protags Just Straight Up Never Ask. And voila; it never gets explained, and it never has to.

Same with the blue blood. It shows up, it functions as a plot device because only Zero Point has blue blood; it is never explained or even delved into with much detail. And if it were, it would fall apart instantly, because the justification is literally just "i thought it was neat. No, no one else is like that. I don't even know why they are. i just felt like it"

- The second option is to consider the effects of the things that you're working with, and then work off of that.

Let's take Zero Point again. Strip them of their context (weird assassin with magical powers) and just like, consider the fact that this is a creature with blood that regularly retails for over $10,000 USD, is intelligent as fuck, shapeshifts, has a mouth in their hand that may or may not be their actual mouth, and can exist on land so long as they have suitable access to water. What does that mean for our setting? Surely they're not the only person like that; so you have a whole species of people who are sort of but not really amphibious, shapeshift, and maybe have magical powers, who knows. They can't shapeshift their fucked up lamprey mouths, maybe. That seems like a reasonable limit. So their blood is highly valuable- what does that mean for their relations with other people, or their culture? What kind of foods do they eat? How do they create a sense of culture as shapeshifters; is there even a way that they represent themselves in art? How do they interact with the world? Do they have a "true form" or not? Every one of these questions will spawn new questions. If you answer all of them you'll lose your mind, but if you answer at least ten you'll spawn a much more background-heavy world that can help to shape your story much more effectively than trying to just craft a narrative will. Sometimes it works very well for a story. Sometimes it gets you lost in the weeds.

- The third option is to reference something else, and build off that. Again, let's use Zero Point as the example.

In the original story that the WiB ensemble is from, Closerverse, which may have some mentions on this blog but honestly I have no idea, there is a city that I've done quite a bit of worldbuilding on. This city is called Hudson, and one of the major important features of it is that it is partially underground. (This is a reference to the DFZ of Rachel Aaron's Heartstrikers series). Hudson is intentionally run to be the worst, most unpleasant city in the world, and one of its features are its wildly intelligent, dangerous forms of aquatic life. The lowest level of this city is partially submerged, and all of these creatures plague the people who live down there.

Closerverse was also set during a period of early industrialization, and Hudson heavily referenced US history, especially 1900s-1920s labor history. Tenements, pollution, zero protections for workers, et cetera. Hudson is a nasty, miserable place, and everyone who lives there can feel the jaws closing in on them.

Anyway, in Closerverse you got these fucked up massive eel-like creatures (lampreys, but with extra features) that due to some rather significant meddling wound up growing legs and then got really massive and started eating people. They have blue blood, glow in the dark, and make fairly decent eating as long as they aren't eating you. And they're intelligent. Given the whole "mutual eating each other" thing, the eels and the people of Hudson have some pretty major animosity going on.

Most of Zero Point's stuff is really just me referencing the Hudson Eels, because I fucking love those. They're some of my favorite worldbuilding elements ever. But given that no one else in WiB has ever seen a Hudson Eel, let alone seen their blood get dry on things, or whatever, everything about Zero Point is wildly out of context. And that almost makes it better, because the whole deal with them is that they're mysterious and weird, and having them be a mysterious and weird reference to something no one but I know about most likely is like, fun and neat.

There are, of course, other modes of worldbuilding as well, but I typically aim to stick to the first two as much as possible. The cooler you make something, the more possible questions it raises; the more questions something raises, the deeper your world gets.

Although, a word of advice: sometimes animals just do things. Sometimes bodies just have features. Who would invent fingernails? But having them is mighty convenient, isn't it? For that matter, who would come up with a deeply logical and reasoned explanation for eyebrows- but not having those would be very strange, to us. You can get away with doing a lot by just having that be how it is, and not having the characters comment on it.

Also, the more "shaped" a thing should be, the more you'll want to take the second approach. For house design, something intentionally built, you'll want to know why it was built, and what purpose is this and that room, and why is it painted such and such colors. But if you're talking about adding a second moon, like... fuck dude, who needs to know why there's a second moon? Maybe if you have sailors you have to know what it'll do to your oceans, but that's the kind of thing you can kind of just say exists and move on. You'll figure it out; it gets pretty intuitive.

Anyway, happy worldbuilding!

#writing advice #long post #worldbuilding

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

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At last, my friends, we’ve come to the end! This is the final part of my POTC AU. *cue the confetti and noisemakers*

I’ll be creating a masterpost for this AU in the next few days, so that it’s easier to start at the beginning, but before we jump right in, I want to thank those people who contributed to the POTC AU during its development by creating content for their own characters -- @hphm-brooke, @danceworshipper, @rosievixen, @smarti-at-smogwarts, @theguythatdraws, @dat-silvers-girl, @that-ravenpuff-witch, @hogwarts9, @drinkyoursoupbitch and @samshogwarts -- as well as my dear friend @cursebreakerfarrier, whose character Jules I roped into this thing at the very start before having any concept of how big this thing could get and I feel so blessed to have been able to write for. I also just want to thank you all for the overwhelming flood of support you guys have sent my way for this project -- I truly have loved every minute of it, and I hope to finish some of my other unfinished projects as well as create other fresh new material for you guys in the near future! I love you all! xoxo

One last time -- previous part is here, and full tag is here!

x~x~x~x

Even with McNully’s brilliant ploy giving her an extra smattering of glory to cement her position, Carewyn had still initially feared the crew who had been on the HMS Lion would take her to task for her insubordination of Cutler Beckett. It turned out she really needn’t have worried.

“Lord Beckett may have been chosen by the King to take charge of the Empire’s anti-piracy campaign,” said Carewyn’s old lieutenant when she questioned him about it, “but he selected you as the Admiral of the fleet. Therefore it’s only right that we, as your subordinates, follow your orders -- whether they contradict Lord Beckett’s or not.”

“Even though I’m the sort of person to threaten the King’s chosen representative with my pistol?” asked Carewyn, her eyebrows raised.

“Even if you did far worse than that,” said the lieutenant, his eyes blazing with resolve. “Your orders saved a lot of our men’s lives out there, when Beckett’s no doubt would’ve led to their deaths. It’s only right that we protect you -- that the Navy protects you -- just like you protected us.”

His boyish face broke out into a broad smile. “We won’t betray you, Admiral. None of us will.”

With the Navy’s defeat at the hands of the Pirate Lords, Carewyn charted a course straight for London. The fleet had just started the month-long journey when about three days in, the Flying Dutchman emerged out of a gigantic wave and pulled up right alongside the HMS Royal. The Navy’s sailors immediately prepared for a fight, as they knew that the Dutchman was no longer under their control, but Carewyn held the order to attack, instead allowing the ship to approach.

The sailors on board the Dutchman were unrecognizable to Carewyn’s eyes -- gone were the barnacle-encrusted, shark-or-fish-headed crew members she’d seen before: all she saw were a band of very human, though admittedly very dirty and ragged-looking pirates. Sticking out amongst them was a handsome, clean-shaved man with a stylishly-embroidered coat, a brown ponytail, and discerning brown eyes, who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with a shorter, stockier man with very long curly dark hair tied back in a ponytail that swished around behind him like an oddly sentient tail. It was these two men that came aboard, when Carewyn invoked the right to parley with the Dutchman’s Captain in her office.

Percy shut the door to Carewyn’s cabin’s door behind the two men, taking off his tricorn hat just as the pirates, Ben, and Carewyn already had now that he was indoors. It was only once Carewyn, Percy, Ben, Jacob, and Ashe were alone that the two Navy officers and ex-Navy veteran dropped their professional masks and the two pirates dropped their intimidating glares, and Jacob and Carewyn ran forward, throwing their arms around each other and squeezing tight.

“Jacob!” Carewyn breathed against his shoulder as she clung to her brother.

Jacob cradled his younger sister close, absently trailing his hand through her hair in repetitive strokes. “Oh Wyn -- my brave Wyn...”

Carewyn pulled away just enough to look at Jacob. Her eyes trailed over his face, down to the long scar on his chest exposed by his slightly open shirt, and over his curly ponytail, which was currently squiggling like a ribbon in mid-air behind him.

Jacob smiled a bit sheepishly.

“Seems all sailors on the Flying Dutchman become a bit more ‘sea-like’ upon tying themselves to the ship. Rakepick’s hair kind of went all ‘jellyfish’ when she was captain -- probably because of her talent for shocking betrayals,” he added with a rather nasty smile. “Ashe thinks that my hair’s been evoking an eel. Fortunately I reckon I won’t start sprouting gills or turning green unless I actively shed my humanity and ignore my role as ferryman like Jones did...”

The severe look on Carewyn’s face made the smile slowly slide off of Jacob’s face.

“Jacob...when Jones was captain of the Dutchman, he wasn’t allowed to visit dry land but once every ten years,” said Carewyn, her voice betraying the anxiety she felt despite her best effort.

Jacob’s eyes grew a little more solemn. “...I know.”

Seeing the pain in his sister’s eyes, he immediately swooped in and trailed a hand through the hair near the front of her face.

“Wyn, I already planned for this. The whole reason I left you on Isle de Muerta is that I wanted to get Jones’s heart and force him, any way I had to, to release you from the contract.” He swallowed. “...I knew I’d have to be prepared to follow through, if I was going to threaten Jones’s life -- that I’d have to be prepared to become captain of the Dutchman myself, if it came to it.”

Carewyn looked if possible even more upset. “...You mean you planned this? You were really going to kill Jones, to stop him from impressing me into service?”

“I was not going to condemn you, Wyn,” Jacob said in a very forceful, pained voice. “I couldn’t let you suffer because of my mistake -- ”

“Two wrongs do not make a right, Jacob,” Carewyn shot back very harshly. “Jones may have been heartless, but he was still a person!”

“If you disregard the tentacles and claw, anyway,” Ashe said rather coolly. When Carewyn whirled on him with a very reproachful look, he spoke again before she did, “Carewyn, your brother had his fair share of conflict about the whole thing. He hated the thought of killing Jones and joining the crew of the Dutchman. He hated the thought of not being free to go where he wanted, to lose so much time with you...with me.”

Ashe’s eyes were very stony, but they still flickered over to Jacob, narrowing slightly with something oddly resigned. Carewyn’s gaze softened significantly.

“...I hated it for him too,” the merman said lowly. “I still do. But I hate the thought of Jack having died there on that deck more. I hate the thought that Rakepick would’ve actually managed to kill him this time, and there would’ve been nothing I could’ve done to stop it. Your friend the Pirate King couldn’t save your brother’s life, but she did prevent him from dying...all because she, like me, couldn’t bear the thought of you two never seeing each other again.”

His lips actually turned up in something of a weak, wry smile upon Carewyn.

“I understand your frustration -- your brother can be amazingly thick -- ”

“Oi!” said Jacob, a bit offended, but Ashe ignored him.

“ -- but I’ve been very fortunate to know the same intense, selfless love from Jack that he feels for you. I’m not going to act like it’ll be easy -- I mean, even if I’d be able to stay on-board on the Dutchman with Jack while he’s here in the land of the living...whenever he goes to the next world as ferryman, I won’t be able to follow. But I can always meet up with him at sea, in my regular form -- I can always catch up, given the proper time...just like I did while Jack was serving under Howell Davis. Until then, I’ll just find someplace to wait.”

Carewyn considered Ashe for a long moment, her blue eyes rippling with a rather indiscernible expression. Then, looking a bit more determined, she strode right up to Ashe and took hold of his shoulders.

“You won’t have to find a place,” she said. “You’ll have one with me.”

Both Jacob and Ashe looked taken aback.

“You’re family, Duncan,” said Carewyn with a smile. “And everything I’ve ever done -- everything I’m doing now -- is for my family...my blood one and my found one.”

She glanced at Percy, who beamed, before turning her gaze back to Ashe.

“You’ll always have a home with me, when you don’t have one with my brother,” she said very firmly. “Always.”

Ashe looked faintly stunned. His eyes trailed over Carewyn’s face, analyzing every inch as if he’d never seen anyone quite like her. His gaze flitted back over to Jacob, whose face had broken into a very warm, tear-choked smile.

Seeing the intense emotion in his partner’s face, Ashe couldn’t help but bow his head and clear his throat as he struggled to keep his composure.

“Ahem...well...that’s...nice.”

He glanced at Carewyn out the side of his eye almost hesitantly. The Admiral’s smile softened that bit more, becoming more sympathetic, and finally Ashe’s face slowly broke out into a very small, soft smile too. He brought up a hand and rested it on the crown of her head, lightly messing up her bangs.

“Guess I’ll just stick with you in the interim, then,” he said airily, “considering the Brethren Court’s instructions.”

Percy blinked in surprise. “The Brethren Court?”

Jacob nodded. “We took a vote and our Pirate King decided that a ‘representative’ should deliver the Court’s demands to the Admiral and the British Crown. Originally the plan was to have Ashe and me rendez-vous with you, and for Ashe to stay with you until ‘the terms were met.’”

“Jack would’ve done it himself if he could, but of course, he sort of needs to stick to the sea, unless he wants to waste his ‘one day every ten years,’” added Ashe.

“What terms did the Court decide on?” asked Ben, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. “I assume they want pardons for themselves and their crews...but just pardoning a mob of pirates isn’t going to fix things on its own.”

Jacob nodded. “Aye. The Court requested a ‘path toward reintegration’ -- one that includes pardons, as well as a job that suits our sailing and, er... ‘financially-inclined’ talents and can be used to build a future for ourselves and any families we may want to support. Amari’s First Mate said there would only be a 58% chance that the King would accept those terms, but he hoped that you ‘being put under duress’ by a pirate while submitting those terms in writing might improve the odds slightly -- ”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Carewyn very primly.

This startled both Jacob and Ashe. Carewyn exchanged a wry smile with Ben.

“We’re already heading to London right now,” said Ben, his smirk noticeably broader than Carewyn’s. “The Admiral plans on requesting an audience with the King himself.”

“With Beckett gone, I’m in the best position I’ll ever be in, to make my move,” Carewyn said, her blue eyes flashing with determined fire. “I’m done with staying silent -- I intend to convince the King to give every pirate the chance to start their lives over.”

And so Carewyn sailed for London with Ashe, Ben, and Percy as her entourage. Meeting King George I would be a formidable proposition for anyone, but Carewyn fortunately was able to prepare a little ahead of time. The Weasley family had grown up near London, so Percy was able to give Carewyn some advice of how to approach the King --

“His Majesty was born and raised in the Holy Roman Empire, so English is not his first language. There are some rumors that he really doesn’t even speak English at all, but I think that’s highly exaggerated -- anti-German sentiment more than anything, you know. One thing that’s for sure, though, is that what he says goes. He’s even ostracized his own son and heir, so I’ve heard, since he was more popular with the British people. But he also can’t stand the Tories -- they never quite accepted his claim to the throne, over the Stuarts...honestly, there are a lot of people who’ve never really warmed up to the man...”

“And financially?” asked Carewyn.

Percy considered this. “...Well, the King’s very wealthy, certainly -- everyone knows that. But I suppose profit would always be advantageous, for the sake of the Empire...”

Carewyn smiled wryly and shook her head. “The Navy has been commanded by the East India Trading Company more than the King himself, as of late. Beckett once equated money with power, and I think there was a reason. If the King’s been leaning so heavily on the Company, that tells me that it had financial resources the Crown is in desperate need of, so the Crown’s own coffers currently depend on the Company’s success.”

Ben got an delighted, devious glint in his eye.

“Bet he’ll be absolutely thrilled to hear what happened to his fleet, then,” he said sarcastically.

Ashe and Carewyn exchanged a smirk too.

“I reckon you could play to that desperation,” said Ashe dryly. “A lack of or loss of wealth is a very common fear among men, I’ve found.”

Carewyn nodded in agreement.

Within twenty days, the HMS Royal docked in London, a few days ahead of schedule thanks to the almost miraculously clear weather and friendly winds. Carewyn then traveled with Percy, Ashe, and Ben to Kensington Palace. It was only one of many castles owned by the King, but according to Percy, it was the one King George I had renovated the most, so Carewyn sussed out that it was likely his favorite of his residences and so, in her opinion, the best place to seek him out first. Her intuition turned out to be spot-on -- as it turned out, both King George I and his son the Prince were there, and although the King was occupied with his Ministers and couldn’t meet with them until that evening, Prince George Augustus was eager to meet the famous Admiral Weasley and requested an audience in one of the royal drawing rooms.

The Crown Prince of England was an amiable and warm, but not a very clever or intellectual man of about forty years. He expressed a lot of interest in Carewyn’s experience as a Navy hero, sounding rather like a child as he questioned her about facing off against the likes of Orion Amari and the crew of the dreaded ship Revenge. Carewyn did have to tailor her stories somewhat, but after a while, she was able to get Prince George comfortable enough that they ended up talking casually over a game of Cribbage, where Carewyn gleaned a few other helpful insights. For one, Carewyn learned that both the King and Prince knew several languages, the first being French, which was the preferred language at court as well as among royals abroad. She also found out that the royal family had never visited the colonies themselves, and that King George I’s leading advisor on matters of business -- the First Lord of the Treasury, Sir Robert Walpole -- had been personally putting more stock in the East India Trading Company than on investing any additional money into the colonies. From the sound of things, he believed as Cutler Beckett did in the power of money over noble ancestry, and yet the Prince conceded that his wife and father both thought well of him and that he was relatively amiable.

When Carewyn finally got her audience with King George I, she sure enough encountered Sir Robert Walpole. He was a broad middle-aged man with a powdered white wig curled into ringlets who stood beside the gray-wigged, tiny-eyed elderly King -- and the news of Cutler Beckett’s fate and the outcome of the confrontation at Shipwreck Cove visibly troubled him. As Carewyn had thought, the Crown had been counting on the East India Trading Company’s profits to flow back toward England to offset the national debt brought on by the War of Spanish Succession and Britain’s other conflicts...and so, when she made her proposal to the King, she felt rather confident.

“Votre Majesté...the scourge of piracy is indeed a threat, not just to the lives of our citizens, but to the Empire’s prosperity. But the East India Trading Company is a business -- they’re not trained in military matters, nor do they know how best to use the resources of the British Crown to combat this problem. They’re not equipped to deal with sensitive matters of state, which truthfully, I believe this to be. We don’t need to get England tied up in another military conflict...particularly when there’s a much more cost-effective alternative.”

King George I raised his graying eyebrows with some interest, but did not speak.

“And what alternative would you suggest, Admiral?” asked Walpole, looking rather curious himself.

“Investing in the colonies,” said Carewyn very firmly. “There’s still a lot of undeveloped land out there -- a lot of trading potential in beaver skins, lumber, and tobacco -- the possibility of wealth that’s been left untapped by the East India Trading Company, with their intense focus on Asia. These men who have become pirates, many of them, were privateers under us during our War against the Spanish. They know shipping and are in need of honest work. They’ve asked for it explicitly. I say that we offer pardons to those pirates who would be willing to work for a new trading company in New England -- one that can be for the colonies what the Company in India already is.”

Walpole frowned deeply in thought, considering the proposal. King George straightened up slightly in his throne so he could peer down at Carewyn with a beady eye.

“You believe, truly, that these criminals would want honest employment?” the old man asked.

His voice was very quiet and laced with a husky German accent. Apparently Percy was right to think the rumors that he couldn’t speak English weren’t true, but he seemed a bit uncomfortable with the language, all the same.

Carewyn smiled at the King. “Oui, mon roi. Beasts can survive on human flesh alone, but humans need a home and money in order to live well. Et les pirates...pardon, I hope that word is correct...sont juste les humains.”

King George’s tiny eyes softened noticeably.

“Your French is very poor, Admiral,” he said in rather smug amusement, “but your word choice is correct.”

He looked at Walpole. “What say you, Earl?”

Walpole considered his answer. “...It could be an interesting proposition -- were we able to locate someone who’d be willing to put his name, reputation, and estate on the line, to fund such a company...”

“I volunteer.”

Ben took a step forward and gave a low, but clipped bow to the King.

“Lord Earl, Your Majesty, this is Captain Gordon Cooper, of the HMS Royal,” Carewyn introduced him. “He was instrumental in helping me lead our men during the battle at Shipwreck Cove.”

“I already have a small sum of money saved up, your Majesty -- enough to purchase one or two ships of my own, to start with,” said Ben. “I truly believe that the profits I could make with those two ships just from offering safe passage to the colonies would be enough to fund the purchase of another. All I’d need would be some collateral to pay a crew for each ship in advance.”

"A standard ship would only need about ten well-bodied men to sail it and transport its cargo efficiently,” Carewyn said quickly, seeing the slight hesitation in the King’s expression. "I’m no expert in finance -- ” she inclined her head respectfully in Walpole’s direction, “ -- but in order to settle more land in the colonies, trees would have to be cut down...which means more lumber to transport back to England. If the people Captain Cooper’s ships are transporting are settlers who are incentivized to build homes there -- possibly with the promise of land ownership -- then their arrival alone would spark a boom of lumber sales. That could then pay back the investment several times over.”

Walpole’s lips spread into a smile, one wryer than the King’s. He was clearly a much more discerning man than either of the two Georges, but he seemed pleased by the proposition, nonetheless.

“...Indeed it could,” he granted. He glanced at the King. “I daresay old Townsend would be pleased to have some financial leverage for his talks with the Spanish and French...”

“Mm...”

King George I gave a short, pompous nod before turning back to face Carewyn and the others.

“Very well. I grant my favor.”

Walpole inclined his head to Ben. “Captain Cooper, the Crown grants you and your Company permission to sail. We shall provide you a loan of 10,000 pounds sterling for your first twenty sailors and any necessary ship repairs, to be paid back with interest within a year. If your sailors complete a successful -- namely, profitable -- round-trip expedition to London on board those ships, then they will receive a full pardon from the British Crown for their past crimes and be permitted to continue working as part of your Company.”

Carewyn’s companions’ eyes all lit up.

“Understood,” said Ben, his face consumed by a huge grin.

“Admiral Weasley will deliver the terms to the pirates -- quietly,” said the King with a stern eye. “I expect written reports and good results.”

Carewyn’s face burst into a brilliant smile too, which she tried to obscure when she brought an arm up to her chest and gave a low bow.

“Mais oui. Merci, votre Grace -- we’ll work hard pour England, et pour vous aussi.”

The King’s eyes sparkled with the trace of a wry smile. “Vous etes un garçon très divertissant, Amiral. J'espère que votre français se sera amélioré lors de notre prochaine rencontre.”

With the King’s blessing, Ben purchased the ships needed in London and, with Percy’s help, prepared them for their first expedition. Carewyn returned to the HMS Lion with Ashe, taking it out to sea just far enough that the Flying Dutchman could emerge from the water and pull up alongside the Navy ship. Carewyn relayed King George I’s decision to Jacob in her cabin, and the Captain of the Flying Dutchman was so overwhelmed with pride that he threw his arms around his little sister and squeezed her with all of his strength. Carewyn, however, found herself unable to celebrate.

“What’s wrong, Wyn?” said Jacob. He tilted his head to look at her, his eel-like ponytail twitching almost curiously behind him. “You did it -- you convinced the King. The Lords at Shipwreck Cove, all the people who live there, will be able to live normal lives again, and it’s all thanks to you.”

“I know,” said Carewyn lowly.

Despite herself, she just couldn’t meet her brother’s gaze. Her eyes lingered on his shoulder.

“...I just wish I could’ve given you that kind of normal life too,” she admitted.

Jacob’s blue eyes darkened. Bringing up both of his arms, he encircled Carewyn and held her tightly against his chest as he rested his head on top of hers. Carewyn bit her lip, trying to hold in her emotions as best she could.

“I wanted to bring you home,” she murmured. “The whole reason I wanted to fight for a world where pirates could be forgiven was because I wanted you to be able to come home...you and Bill and Charlie and Jules and Orion...”

Jacob squeezed Carewyn that bit tighter. Both Cromwells were crying now, even though they both stubbornly fought to keep themselves from breaking down into full sobs.

Ashe shared a grim look with Jacob over Carewyn’s head. Then he came up beside both of them, resting a hand on the crown of Carewyn’s head and leaning his forehead against his lover’s, and hummed something low under his breath. The resonant bass tone seemed to slowly calm Carewyn’s heart and breathing and help the tears ebb.

After a moment, she took a deep breath and looked up at Ashe with muted gratitude, before she turned back to her brother.

“...Now that I’ve done my duty and made sure the Crown’s terms were delivered, I intend to send in my resignation to the Navy. I can’t support Ben’s new Company while I’m still Admiral without worrying about a conflict of interest, after all.”

She offered a weak wry smile, which then slowly morphed into a much more gentle one.

“Besides...I think I’m ready to finally stop fighting.”

Jacob’s teary eyes softened fondly. “Then live, my sweet Wyn. Live in peace and happiness...”

With a heavy breath, he picked up the Dead Man’s Chest he’d brought with him back off Carewyn’s desk and faced Ashe.

“I’ll need to head to the next world soon,” said Jacob. “Would you...?”

Ashe inclined his head in a solemn nod. “Give it to me, Jack.”

Very carefully, Jacob placed the Chest into Ashe’s open hands, trailing his own much dirtier, faintly trembling hands over his lover’s once he’d taken it. His eyes darted from Ashe to Carewyn, looking heartbroken and almost starved -- like he longed so much to never look away from them again.

“Be safe,” Jacob mumbled, “and...please, keep a weather eye on the horizon for me?”

“How dare you ask me that.”

Ashe trailed his lips along the side of Jacob’s face in lingering, messy kisses, only pausing briefly to look him in the eye, blazing brown on blue.

“I will always wait, Jack. I will always find you again.”

Carewyn’s eyes were just as soft as she reached up into the inside pocket of her jacket and slowly withdrew a familiar star-like, sapphire-and-diamond pendant for Jacob to see.

It was the one he himself had given her on Isle de Muerta.

Jacob’s eyes flooded with more tears as Carewyn wrapped both of her arms around her brother’s neck, hugging him tightly just as she had then.

“We’ll be there, Jacob,” she murmured. Two streaks of tears slid from her closed eyes. “I promise.”

Jacob delivered the British Crown’s terms to the Brethren Court at Shipwreck Cove within two days, after he’d returned from ferrying the proper souls to the next life. Within a month, a ship full of twenty sailors had arrived in London, ready to man the red-and-blue-painted ships Ben Copper had purchased. The two ships set sail for the colonies, the first up to New England and the second down to the Caribbean, which allowed Percy to return home to Port Royal and go about his duties as Commodore and Ben to finally be reunited with his love Wendy Gordon and propose marriage as a free and prosperous man.

Once the two ships returned to London another month later, the first wave of pardons was signed. From there, Ben’s enterprise -- the Gordon-Cooper Trading Company -- grew, taking on more ships that then proceeded to employ the once-most-wanted criminals in the world and give them a chance at a new life. And Carewyn -- retiring with full honors from the Navy and settling in New York City with Ashe under her real name for the first time since she was a child -- visited the dock every morning to see every ship that came in.

The first ship to New York brought Ellie Hopper. The once-Pirate Lord of the Mediterranean Sea ended up colliding with the soft-spoken third son of the well-respected horse breeder Johan Schaefer in upstate New York, and the two were married within a few years.

The second ship brought Merula Snyde and the stylish Frenchman Andre Egwu. The captain of the so-called “most powerful ship on the seven seas” continued as a merchant, breaking off from the Gordon-Cooper Trading Company to buy her own ship and engage in the tobacco and sugar trade between New England and the southern colonies. Andre opened up his own clothing shop in Philadelphia and soon became one of the most sought-after tailors in Pennsylvania.

The third ship brought Bill and Jules.

When Bill caught sight of Carewyn at the dock, he practically barreled his way down the ship’s gangplank and shoved a good ten people aside to reach his best friend. The two gingers and Jules then clung to each other for what felt like hours, tears of joy streaming down their faces as Bill trailed a hand through Carewyn’s now-loose-flowing hair and Jules fawned over Carewyn’s pretty new dress.

Bill and Jules also brought a letter from Charlie with them --

My twin, Carey,

I’m sorry I won’t be able to give you this news in person -- but I won’t be accepting my pardon for a while yet.

At Shipwreck Cove, I met a woman named Sarahi (I don’t believe you know her, but she knows you, and Orion spoke very well of her), who grew up in the area of the Pacific Ocean. According to what she’s said, it’s been left largely in chaos since the death of Bartholomew Sharp -- sea serpents, carnivorous sirens, giant squids, the whole lot...and as Pirate Lord of the Pacific, it’s my responsibility to manage things there. But hey, you know I’ve never been afraid of a little adventure! Particularly when I’ve got a good crew on my side. My First Mate Barnaby’s injuries have completely healed, so we, Sarahi, and Samantha O’Connell will be heading out within the next three days on the new and improved Revolution. Sam and Sarahi helped me paint some red dragon wings on the sides, just as a flourish!

I miss you so much, and I miss Bill already, just writing this -- but I know that we won’t ever be truly apart, even when I can only see you in my mind’s eye. I know you’ll probably be worried about me, Carey, but please don’t be. I’d trust my crew with my life -- I already have, honestly, and they sure haven’t let me down yet! I can’t wait for you to meet them. I reckon you’d probably “mother” the hell out of Barnaby, and Sarahi was really happy when I told her how good of a singer you are, so she’s very excited about the prospect of singing with you. And Sam...I reckon you and she will get on famously.

Remember, Carey...we’re family, now and forever! You’ll be in my mind and heart always, until I sail up into New York Harbor and see you again! If Bill hasn’t given you the biggest hug ever for my sake, then give him a good kick to the shin and remind him. Take good care of him, Jules, and Percy for me. Love you so much.

Your brother,

Charlie

Bill and Jules Weasley ended up settling down and starting a family of their own in New York City, just twelve blocks away from where Carewyn and Ashe lived. It was not uncommon over the years for both Carewyn and Ashe to pick up babysitting duties, though Ashe most frequently would just use his particular talent for singing to put any fussy children right to sleep and then drop them off in either Carewyn’s or Jules’s lap.

Over the next six months, more and more red-and-blue ships passed through New York Harbor, dropping off more pardoned ex-pirates so they could start new lives in the colonies. Then one day, toward the end of spring, Carewyn left the brick house she shared with Ashe as if to head for the dock as usual, only to stop mid-step at the sound of someone shouting her name.

“Carewyn!”

She turned around, her ginger hair flourishing behind her as if in slow motion.

A man had just leapt off the back of a carriage he’d been hanging off of without the driver’s knowledge and was now running toward her. Carewyn squinted, taking in his unfamiliar dark ponytail and sailor’s clothes -- then, within seconds, she recognized the handsomely smiling, bearded face and his shining, galaxy-like eyes.

“Orion?” she breathed.

Her heart seemed to seize up, as if it were being squeezed in someone’s hand and yet being given wings at the exact same time. Then she threw herself into a run, and it slammed against her rib cage, as she ran to him, flat-out ignoring how her knees kept getting caught in her hoops and her heeled shoes pinched her feet.

“Orion -- ORION!”

She just about tripped into his arms. Orion caught her and swooped down on her, burying his face in her hair.

“Carewyn...” he murmured against her neck.

“Orion,” said Carewyn.

Her voice was strained with the effort of trying to contain her joy. It felt like she was being stretched at the seams and probably could’ve exploded from all the intense emotions beating at the edges of her heart. She secured her arms around his neck and clung to him -- she brought her lips up to the side of his temple and kissed it, resting her forehead against his briefly before finally pulling away enough to look him in the face.

Orion was beaming from ear to ear as he brought up a hand to trail his thumb gently along her cheek.

“...Carewyn Cromwell...I don’t think you’ve ever looked more fair.”

Carewyn smiled. “Does that mean you like my new look?”

“Yes,” said Orion, his eyes grazing her black-and-white-striped dress and the diamond-and-sapphire pendant tied with a black ribbon around her neck briefly, “but that’s not why you look so fair. You’ve been my moon goddess, previously...but now you are Libertas, personified.”

Carewyn laughed, her face contorted with confusion. “What?”

“Libertas, Carewyn,” repeated Orion, his huge smile never faltering. “The goddess of freedom! Freedom is the most beautiful thing, Carewyn. I’ve longed for it all my life, but never could truly have it, whether because I lacked the means of survival or because I was a pirate who could only live on the run. And when we first met again, on the Artemis...the thing that hurt me the most, seeing you again...was knowing that you were trapped by your position -- enslaved to the duty that made you hide who you were and march lock-step with the likes of Cutler Beckett. But now you...in this moment, here...you are free. It shines in your eyes, on your face -- it radiates off of you like a star, Carewyn. Better still -- because of you, I am free. For the first time in my life...I’m completely free to chase my heart’s desire...”

Orion’s smile seemed to shrink slightly, not out of lack of happiness but out of something almost like nerves, as he reached into his lone remaining belt and slipped out a familiar black-lidded compass.

"McNully, Skye and I have been offered salaried positions with the Gordon-Cooper Trading Company,” he said a bit more seriously, “so I may have to return to sea in the future, but...”

When he opened the compass, its scarlet arrow was pointed right at Carewyn.

“...My heart’s desire has not changed. I would always return, if you...”

He trailed off, his tone oddly shy for how calm his face appeared. The once-Admiral’s red-painted lips spread into a bigger, fuller smile too as she rested her hands on top of his.

“I wouldn’t have married you in the middle of a storm if I didn’t want to build a life with you, Orion Amari,” she said gently. “Or is it Cromwell now? We may want to make a decision about that...”

She smoothed some dark hair out of his eyes.

“I already told you that I want you to have a home. If you need to fly like a bird...then I’ll be your nest.”

Carewyn placed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. His black eyes softening, Orion brought up a hand to hold the back of her head, holding it in place. He kissed her chastely in return once, twice, and then deepened the kiss on the third go. After he released her, he lingered, his lips brushing up against hers as he smiled down at her.

“...My dear Bedlam maid...I will always follow your song home.”

Carewyn’s blue eyes sparkled affectionately. “Then I’ll never stop singing.”

“See that you don’t,” said Orion, his black eyes glittering with some wry amusement. “I do believe I said I’d envisioned a life for you where you married a man that you could sing for.”

Carewyn laughed quietly, but after a moment, she brought her forehead beside her husband’s, her arms secure around his neck as she held him close and sang for him.

“So now these two are married, and happy may they be, Like turtle doves together, in love and unity.

All pretty maids, with patience wait, that have got loves at sea – I love my love because I know...my love…loves…me.”

#THE END!#*collapses*#holy friggin' s***#wow #I'm overwhelmed #but happy!#very happy!#83 #interestingly george i died about a year after the end of the golden age of piracy #so really it's a good thing that carewyn was able to make nice with both him and his son who of course became george ii #george ii also retained walpole as an advisor so the piracy pardons would've been able to continue into george ii's reign :)#ashe naturally would spend half his time at carey's place and half on the sea with jacob when he was in the world of the living <3 #and yes charlie would pop into new york harbor now and again with his crew #I just see him living happily ever after on the high seas rather than on land #I'm sure there were other pirates who followed charlie's path too #hphm #hogwarts mystery #carewyn cromwell #potc au #orion amari #jacob cromwell #duncan ashe #percy weasley #ben copper #gwendolyn gordon #samantha o'connell #sarahi silvers #barnaby lee #my art #my writing

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pain-of-redemption · 4 years ago

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I’ve been thinking about the Fiji mermaid creatures I made. And mainly how they were created, because I have so many ideas on how they were created and I’d love to know everyone’s thoughts.

(If you need a refresher for what the Fiji Mermaids are you can find a brief overview here)

So I have three different ideas about how they were made:

Idea #1

Basically made the same way as normal ghouls

Exposed to a lot of radiation BUT their legs adapted to be more fishlike and help them swim

So basically they evolved to stay and live in the water, but they are amphibious as they can go above they water without having much trouble breathing

But this does bring up if there are non-feral mermaids, which I didn’t originally plan but I’m always open to changing the lore

Idea #2

They were created as an FEV experiment, like the super mutants, centaurs, and several of the creatures in Appalachia

Maybe created similarly to centaurs by throwing a human and fish into a vat of FEV and seeing what would happen

They could’ve been created before the war by some of the more insidious corporations (like West-Tek)

Or they were created after the war by someone similar to the Master, just with the less...genocidal agenda.

And since I’m on the topic of the Fiji Mermaids I’m just gonna ramble about them. I’ve been withholding information FOR TOO LONG!!!!

They are mainly centered around New York and a bit of Far Harbor

There are two different variants (each with their own sub-variants, confusing I know) fresh water and salt water

Fresh water mermaids tend to be smaller (only growing up to 3ft or 91 cm long), more brown undertones, and generally less aggressive than their salt water counterparts. Usually solitary, very rarely seen with other mermaids. They also tend collect more lost things like trash that they find in the river and make dams to sleep in.

The dams barely rise out of the water and sometimes aren’t even that noticeable. Many caution swimming or even crossing rivers to avoid ruining a mermaid dam.

Fresh water mermaid tails resemble that of bass, sturgeons, and catfish. Some can even generate a small electrical shock to deter threats.

The salt water mermaids are much bigger (growing up to 7ft or 213 cm long) and much more aggressive than their fresh water counterparts. They usually have more blue or green undertones, are very commonly seen in groups with other mermaids, and make homes in old sunken wreckage.

Have become very resourceful, using old nets, metal scraps, and lots of other junk to fill in the holes of their sunken homes.

Tails usually resemble that of sharks, various species of dolphin, eels, and barracudas.

All Fiji mermaids have a very powerful voice and can mimic various noises to lure prey. Some even have a sonic call similar to mirelurk kings

They have a lot of teeth, so much that they come in rows like sharks and can fully close their mouths. But eating is strangely not a problem as their mouth can open up very wide to consume prey.

There have been tales of deep water Fiji mermaids that are even bigger, scarier, and 10x more aggressive than any of the other variants, but this has yet to be proven. Perhaps it’s just a story adults like to tell their children to behave.

#thank you for indulging me #I’m really proud of these guys and I wanna talk about them so much more #so please if you have your own ideas that you feel I should add tell me!#I’m open to anyone’s opinion! :)#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #fiji mermaid #original fallout creature #fallout creature #fallout ghouls #fallout ghoul #feral ghoul

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royalreef · 4 years ago

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@biteyourcrush || Valentine’s Day.

When such a thought as the one that had dwelled on Miranda’s mind remained present for so long as to grow roots and intertwine with the waking world, passing from dreams and stepping into the light with no transition between either --- it was only inevitable that it should demand to be fed eventually. Blood or water, whatever to satisfy that pervasive itch, that yearning for a piece that only needed her to reach out and take it.

Broaching the subject was never going to be an easy thing. Aaravi was... one of multiple worlds. As human as she was monster. Born of fae, it only made sense that she was liminal in that way, walking from human hunters that saw nonhumans as threats or items to be collected, an other that haunted the frayed edges of their society, into a world of so many more, of feral things, of horn and tooth and claw and scale and fur, and yet of the melodies only created by chaos, of the rejected who found acceptance if they had to carve it out themselves.

And yet she was not mer. And to Miranda, who never wholly felt like she fit into the monster-human divide, who observed it as a seafolk watching landfolk turn upon landfolk, that distinction was important. Aaravi didn’t have the same cultural understanding Miranda had of these things, of important things, that held weight and power to them, yet existed as concepts wholly mer in origin. If there were translations for them, Miranda had not found them, and for that she lingered upon the idea. Not sure how to handle and explain the subject that had existed for longer than her kingdom had.

If this day really was the day of lovers... Of unrepentant connection, of the deep song of yearning hearts and the people who shared them, then... Well, Miranda saw her chance. If she had opportunity to explain the depth of a mer’s affection, the depth of her own love, then... now was the time to take it.

To ask Aaravi over to her castle, to merely have a quiet, private dinner between them, was easy. Getting dressed up for it was similarly easy. As if having her hair done in a fishtail braid, as if draping herself in pearls and jewels, as if finding a fine enough silk dress wasn’t something she had already done thousands of times before, so well practiced that she knew it by heart.

No, that wasn’t the hard part. That wasn’t why she kept fidgeting in the sunroom, looking out over the ocean. Why, under candlelight and the glittering light of a chandelier and the gentle blue light of the flanking aquariums along the walls, the princess kept flickering in blue against the backdrop of crushed velvet seating and fine marble. Why her fins kept fluttering when she looked at Aaravi throughout the dinner, why a blush never fully left her cheeks, even glancing above the rim of her strawberry drink, as if pretending the weight at her side wasn’t on her mind constantly.

The hard part came afterwards. Right before her serfs were to serve dessert, where Miranda had told Aaravi that she had something special for her. The hard part came in what she ached to ask, that had dwelled in her chest like a kinder cold, and lived below her scales in a question that only felt natural to ask.

“I have... wanted to ask you something. I know we are quite early on, and you don’t have to accept, but...” A deep, slow breath, that made Miranda close her eyes for the motion. There was no calming her pounding heart, but... She wasn’t complaining. She just needed to steady her nerves. Just enough to keep going.

Shaky hands reached below and felt for the box that she had stashed away in her dress. When she lifted it up, resting it upon the table, facing Aaravi - it was fairly plain, at first brush. Two halves of a tough, rugged grey-brown shell, that even with the gold lining along the place where the two halves met to form a flush fit and a simple hinge, was unbelievably underhanded for Miranda.

“I - I do not think you would know it, it is... something that important to my people, and you know how my kingdom is about letting those outside of us know about what our lives are like. It’s an- an old idea. Asked only of those who we’re closest to. Who we love the most.

Ul’kiha. I- ... It speaks of... the water we live our entire lives in, what we breathe through our gills, but it’s plural. Two, breathing as one. A shared set of gills, of lungs. To unite in the lifeblood we need, and to be as necessary to each other as our own breath.

But, in English... I think the closest true translation you would know is soulmates. Not quite tied together by fate, no - but by... a forged connection. A bond stronger than fate, if you would. To literally be each other’s match.”

Another breath, in and out. Pacing herself, as her eyes watched Aaravi’s face. So careful, trying to read what she was thinking, if she understood, if she was excited, if she was accepting. Claws steadily curved over the edge of the shell-box, and slowly, she unlatched it, and lifted the lid.

Underneath, the box was a miniature wonder. Abalone shells. That was what the two halves were - and on the inside, they shone in vibrant iridescence of dappled green and blue and pink, on so carefully etched along the top with a scene. Two wolf eels, stylized in a way that must have been mer in origin, weaving around each other in a shallow sea, their tails dipping low to curve protectively around a shared den, a clutch of eggs, from which bloomed... more abstract shapes. Something that might have been currents, or coral, or even mere design work alone.

And sat there at the bottom of the box, on a bed of vibrant green velvet, was a pair of earrings. Small hoops, light. Hand-carved with meticulous detail, forming the flowing shapes of water and a stylized wolf eel towards the back, resting atop a tiny glimmering emerald, and towards the front... There was the natural edge of the teeth that each one was carved from. Serrations that perfectly matched Miranda’s bite, sharp and ivory.

Finally, to top it off, on the inside of the bands carved from Miranda’s shed teeth, there were the fine workings of magic, tiny ritual lines imbued with magic by a careful eye and a delicate hand, just waiting to be worn.

“I... I wanted to ask if, you would want to become ul’kiha, with me. It is a serious commitment, and I understand if you are not ready, or do not want to do it for whatever reason ---- I just... felt it was right.”

#Glory and Gore || IC #biteyourcrush #Every time I catch a little break I'm dying to escape || Aaravi x Miranda ( biteyourcrush )#long post

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stillness-in-green · 4 years ago

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Spinaraki Week, Day 1: Fantasy

I didn’t intend for this to get so D&D so fast, but then Mr. Compress started talking about different types of summoning spells and there was no going back.

League of Villains, D&D-style! Featuring a few other familiar faces as well.

———– ———– ———– ———–

It’s been a dozen hallways and more individual rooms of creeping around, checking their guesswork map, resting and recharging where they can. Between Toga’s shapeshifting, Sako’s near-endless bag of tricks, and Dabi’s ability to roast small fry to death before they can even scream a warning, they managed to sneak past almost all of the temple guardians—and then they hit the atrium.

Sunlight bathes the room, streaming in through a huge circular skylight in the roof. There might have been glass in it once, to keep out the elements, but if so, it’s long gone now, and nature’s well on its way to taking back the space. Vines spill across the floor and climb up every wall, dotted with bursts of flowers, their petals a vivid but not entirely natural shade of midnight blue. Little copses of fuller growth dot the room here and there, scrubby cypress trees and coastal pines spreading over islands of grass. Tumbled chunks of masonry dot the floor, gradually being overtaken by the expanding green. There’s a grandeur to it, though probably, Spinner thinks, slanting a glance over at Shigaraki, the original owner would disagree.

The League enters the room in a cautious, well-practiced formation. Toga takes point, clever eyes cataloging potential dangers ahead even as she turns in place, clearly admiring the view. Shigaraki’s right behind, stepping over the vines, an out of place black-clad figure amidst all the green. His head, still covered by his raised hood, turns this way and that, taking in the surroundings. Dabi and Sako keep close to each other in the middle, the former eyeing the plant life with his usual derision, the latter tipping back his hat to examine the skylight as he lets out a low whistle. Spinner keeps watch at the back, his sword out and ready.

“Sako, Toga—thoughts?” Shigaraki asks, voice pitched low.

“Vines could make spotting traps harder,” Toga opines, “but they could be choking some mechanisms, too. I don’t know; this feels like a fight-a-big-monster space to me, but I don’t see anything.”

“It’s likely intended as a place to address one’s followers,” Sako chips in. “I should think if it were going to be turned into an impromptu arena, the ‘big monsters’ would be summoned in from extra-planar regions. Though I suppose if All for One made a habit of mauling guests, we mustn’t rule out holding chambers attached to the room.”

“Harder to see those through the vines, too.”

“Would anything like that even be alive still?” Spinner ventures, eyes tracking along the long curve of the wall.

“If they were natural beasts, almost certainly not,” Sako answers. “But that’s a rather large ‘if’ to be betting on, given the circumstances, wouldn’t you say?”

“Summoned things,” Shigaraki says before Spinner can respond. He peels his hood back, revealing a pinched, narrow-eyed expression. “What good would those do with no one to give ‘em directions? Would they even fight us?”

“It would be fairly simple to imbue such prepared spells with basic directives like, ‘Defend the chamber’ or ‘Attack anyone who doesn’t meet such-and-such criteria,’ so likely so.” Sako rolls his focus stone from one nimble hand to the other, back and forth, the movement of clear blue glass near-silent on the rich—if somewhat faded and damp-stained—silk of his sleeves. “And definitely so when we consider the possibility of, oh, the sorts of binding spells that extract favors from higher agents that needn’t be immediately discharged.”

“Those don’t last forever,” Shigaraki says dismissively. He pauses, considers, then retracts with, “At least, not if they were cast before. But the guardians could be using their own, these days. They could just recast when they need to.”

“A somewhat resource-consuming process, but possible,” Sako allows.

“So what’s the verdict, Boss?” Dabi twirls a lick of his signature azure flame around his fingers. “Around the edges or straight through?”

Shigaraki considers it for another few seconds, glancing around the room and up to the ceiling again.

“We’ll skirt around the skylight, just in case,” he says finally, “but otherwise, straight through. If something’s gonna jump us in here, I wanna see it coming.”

“Still traumatized by that time with the living wall, Tomura?” Toga teases, ignoring the scowls she gets from Dabi and Spinner. Shigaraki just gives her an unimpressed look, at which she titters and sets out in front of the group, hopping lightly over the sprawls of roots and uneven stonework. The group falls in behind her.

Spinner brings up the rear, clenching and unclenching his grip around the hilts of his swords. They’ve been at this for hours now, and the casters are starting to run low—they’re got their standbys and a few more pull-out-all-the-stops type spells before they’re spent. With Magne and Jin both back at camp, he’s the closest thing to muscle this group’s got, and while it’s definitely a stealthier affair all around without Jin’s cross-grained rambling and Magne’s… Well, between the chainmail shirt, the shawm, and the lively banter, there’s a lot to miss about Magne, but right now, stepping away from the reassuring solidity of the wall and out into the open air, what Spinner definitely misses most is her strong arm. The back rank feels empty without her, and it’s got him nervy.

They progress across the room, gusts of a warm breeze soughing in from the skylight. Spinner—who spent most of his youth clambering around the woods—focuses on keeping an eye out, with the others distracted by keeping their footing. He doesn’t fully trust the flowers. Wild magic can have really weird effects on local plant life—you find that out quick enough, being in a party with Dabi—and by all accounts, the magic at the heart of this place is something else. Still, a room full to bursting with fragrant climbing not-quite-lilies in a color that would have a weaver’s guild breaking down the front doors is… It just wouldn’t have been his first guess for “expected outcome of long-term coexistence with a demonic arcane relic.”

Or whatever it is they’re here to secure. That’s what Spinner got out of Shigaraki’s explanation, and that much only after Sako helped their leader translate his latest dark-omens-and-portents dream courtesy of his “patron.” He’s pretty confident about it, anyway, and Shigaraki’s confidence is—well, infectious, if worth second-guessing him on from time to time.

The second-guessing is what he’s thinking about when the vines burst out of the ground at the head of the group.

Shigaraki and Toga jerk sideways with a grunt and a muffled shriek, wooden branches wrapping around their limbs, thickening with supernatural speed; between them, something like one of the cypress trees blooms out of the ground, a riot of prehensile limbs growing off of a central mass, dotted with those damn flowers. A helm-shaped head lifts out of the wood and twists around to face them, a yellow glow emanating from within hollowed out spaces where a normal creature would have eyes.

“It’s some sort of elemental!” Sako calls as Spinner bolts forward, to which Toga groans in frustration, “Ugh, I hate elementals!”

“Wait—a wood elemental? You’re kidding, right?” Dabi laughs around a leer and steps forward, fire blazing up in a leaping, living spiral from his hands. The tree thing’s gaze flashes over to him and it falls back in a hurry, dragging Toga and Shigaraki along with it. Its head cranes up towards the distant ceiling and it shouts something in Primordial.

Spinner’s heart sinks at what’s clearly a rally for backup, then drops even lower when a shadow falls over the room. A sound like the thrum of dragon’s wingbeat reverberates through the air from above as something huge eclipses across the skylight.

“It was a really nice day out,” a woman’s voice booms in complaint. “Why can’t we ever get tomb raiders on rainy days?”

“Scatter!” Shigaraki barks out just as the giantess drops through the skylight.

She cracks the floor when she lands, the weight of her rocking the whole room, even the echoes painfully loud. Sako sways wildly but keeps his feet, but Dabi goes over, flames guttering. Spinner throws himself into a sideways roll, jarring his shoulder but coming up back up clear of her reach. The wood elemental hasn’t noticed yet, but Toga catches his eyes and widely, exaggeratedly mouths, Door, at him before tossing her head towards the far wall.

Spinner follows her glance and sees it—there’s no visible sign of doors, but there, on the wall directly across from the entrance, vines have grown around something, a space of ordered, even lines amidst the natural misrule of the rest of the growth. He can guess at her train of thought: get the door open, regroup, fall back—the outline suggests the entrance is big, but not stone giant big, and the wood elemental won’t stand a chance once Dabi gets his act together. The big patches of grass everywhere offer pretty decent camouflage, if Spinner keeps his profile low—it wouldn’t be hard to slip over there while the flashier members of the group run distraction.

And then he looks back at Shigaraki, pitching and struggling in the wood elemental’s other arm, his writhing fingers unable to find purchase on the lacquered prison, and Spinner’s halfway to closing the distance before he even consciously makes the decision.

Toga makes a sound like a discontented puma, half-annoyed yowl and half-heavy sigh, wheezing from the grip of the snare. She twists like an eel, too fluid for something with the usual humanoid skeletal structure, and drops to the floor, free hand coming up fast with a vial of acid in her hands. The elemental makes another swipe at her, and, when she arches away from the rushing leaves, turns abruptly, glowing eyes landing on Spinner as he charges in.

Elementals don’t have the usual humanoid structure, either—because nothing in Spinner’s life can ever be easy—and that means pretty much any spot’s as good as the next with them. Still, something with a slashing edge seems a better bet than a sharp point, so Spinner sheathes his short sword in favor of tightening up a double-handed grip on his longsword. He brings it down with all the force he can muster on the wooden bough stretching out of the thing’s main mass and entangling Shigaraki. The sound of breaking glass heralds Toga striking true on the thing’s other side, and the elemental groans and creaks.

A whiff of smoke finds Spinner’s nose a split-second before the familiar thunderclap sound of flame blossoming into existence in previously empty air finds his ears. The whole battlefield changes hues as a column of fire erupts in the center of the room, so tall it clears the skylight. The giantess screams, in rage as much as pain, and for just a second, the wood elemental looks away, head angling backwards in concern.

Shigaraki finally gets an arm free and twists his fingers around a spell gesture. He spits out a snake-nest of a sentence, all tight cadence and sibilants, and on the last word, reaches back in to lock his hand around a branch holding him. The elemental cries out, louder this time, and shudders from trunk to tip; twigs snap loose, leaves brown and twist and fall in a sudden autumnal rain. In the gouge opened up by Spinner’s blade, wooden flesh dries from bright new green to splintering, sawdust yellow.

Been doing this long enough to know an opening when I see one, Spinner thinks, yanks his sword free, and drives it in again with an angry grunt. The branches spasm and Shigaraki squirms free at last, dropping into a crouch and scrambling backward.

“Get to the door,” he growls, and when Spinner starts to protest, overrides him with, “That giant’s making enough racket to wake the dead. We can handle these two—we can’t handle the whole damn temple’s-worth of backup. We need to get it open and get the hell out of here.”

“Loud and clear!” Toga chirps and taps one foot on the floor in a quick 2-1-1 pattern before sprinting away.

Spinner nods and falls back before the elemental can gather itself up for another one of those grapples—he doesn’t have Toga’s dexterity, or even Shigaraki’s. But the elemental draws back as well, casting its gaze across the three of them in quick succession before in folds in on itself and vanishes into the foliage littered across the floor.

“What’s it—”

“We’ll know when it does it. Door.”

“Right.” Spinner’s glances over to where Toga’s already nearly to the far wall, unhindered by the overgrowth. Navigating the plant life, that’s a simple enough thing for him, too, but Shigaraki…

“It’ll be faster this way,” he says aloud and, before Shigaraki can protest, scoops him up around the waist and clear off his feet.

Shigaraki snorts but doesn’t fight him, instead taking the opportunity to prop himself over Spinner’s shoulder and fire off a sizzling purple energy blast. There’s an indignant shriek from the giantess and Spinner redoubles his speed. Giants have a mean arm when provoked, and he’s got no interest in getting turned into a smear of plant food courtesy of a hurled chunk of masonry—and looking back on it, all the loose boulders around should probably have been a clue.

“Dabi, Sako—fall in!” Shigaraki yells at the kind of volume he hardly ever uses.

Seconds later, up ahead of them, Dabi and Sako blink into existence by the doors just as they shudder their way open, trailing vines like streamers, filling the hall with the scrape of stone on stone.

“Just charge through,” Shigaraki mutters to him, throwing off another round of attacks.

“I don’t think so!” the giantess thunders, and a boulder goes sailing past over Spinner’s head. He sees the trajectory of it—giants have a mean and accurate arm when provoked—and hisses in dismay.

“Hold on!” He tightens his grip on Shigaraki and hunkers down in his next two steps, propelling himself into a leap just as the boulder crashes into the wall above the doors.

The next few seconds are a blur of noise and billowing dust and Shigaraki’s face pressed against the side of Spinner’s neck, body tripwire-taut in his arms, and then pain dashed like sea spray across the back of his head, and he barely registers botching the landing as he tumbles into unconsciousness.

———–

He comes to in darkness so total he almost doesn’t expect his hand to move when he goes to pat at his eyes, anticipating bindings, a blindfold, anything but what actually happens, which is whacking himself in the face with a completely unrestrained hand.

“Good, you’re up,” comes Shigaraki’s voice. “Come on; we need to keep moving before that giant decides to start excavating.” His hands wrap unerringly around Spinner’s and tug; obediently, Spinner gets his feet under him and helps Shigaraki help him up.

Why the hell doesn’t someone have a torch lit yet? is his first thought, as he gingerly reaches up to prod at the lump behind one ear.

“Wait, wait; I can’t see an inch in front of my face,” he complains as Shigaraki tries to get them walking, stopping in place.

“Yeah. Magic darkness spells do that,” Shigaraki responds tartly.

“What, are we out of dispels already?” Spinner turns his head, and it finally penetrates, how quiet it is. No other voices but his own and Shigaraki’s—no Dabi with a cantrip and a sarcastic remark, no nattering from Toga or Sako. “Oh, hell, did we get split up?”

“Yeah. And before you ask, there’s wards up, so no one’s teleporting in here after us. We couldn’t even get a Sending through.”

“So we’re just—going on without them?” His voice sounds suddenly small in the dark; Shigaraki’s hands bob once around his.

“No choice,” he answers. “Situation’s the same as it was before—if they can’t come through with magic, they can’t wait around out there for the rest of the guard to show up. We’ll meet ‘em back at camp after I get what I’m after.”

“So we’re just—walking down this hallway in the dark.” Did you learn how to find traps when I wasn’t paying attention? Spinner can’t bring himself to say the last part out loud.

“You’re walking down this hallway in the dark. I can see just fine.” Shigaraki gives him another sharp jerk and this time, reluctantly, Spinner allows himself to be pulled along.

“Aren’t you worried about traps?” he manages. He pats at his waist, finding first his short sword, then his longsword, which Shigaraki must have resheathed while he was out. He draws it for the small comfort it affords him to have a weapon ready to hand.

A thoughtful silence follows the question. Shigaraki’s footsteps are even and measured; the floor underfoot, despite Spinner’s hindbrain screaming about deadfalls, remains solid and level.

“…Shigaraki?” he finally prompts. Of all the times for Shigaraki to get into one of his remote moods.

“No.” Shigaraki’s voice floats back at last. “This is a strong darkness. And the path branches a lot. I think it’s a test, not a trap, and I’ve been dreaming about the answers for months. We’ll get what we’re after or we won’t, but either way, we’re almost there.”

So they press on.

The farther along they get, the more Spinner’s skin crawls at the feel of the air—colder sometimes, then warmer, air currents that smell rank with rot caressing over his face and leaving him shuddering. Shigaraki pauses, now and again, to steer them around hazards he doesn’t explain. Once, Spinner steps on something that pops under his feet—for a second, his blood runs frigid and he nearly panics, waiting for a dart or a drop or something, and then his ear catches up with his brain and tells him, Just a bone, that’s all. As if that’s more reassuring.

Shigaraki hums under his breath, distracted, and tugs them onwards.

It’s not like it’s the first time Spinner’s had to deal with magical darkness. It’s not the first temple he’s gone through. Not the first time he had to follow someone on faith, either, though more often that’s been Toga, chipperly going on about pressure plates and sliding stones and false floors. But before, it’s only lasted for a few seconds. As long as it takes for Sako to dispel it, for Dabi to light up something stronger, for Shigaraki—who sees in the dark like he was born in it, and whose eyes glow brilliant red in even natural darkness—to pinpoint the caster and reel off one of his eldritch blasts that can knock the wind out of pretty much anyone.

It hasn’t been like this. Seconds stretching into minutes in sable air so thick it crawls against his scales, muffling the sound of their footsteps and all but swallowing the periodic mumble from Shigaraki, whose voice is so low Spinner can’t even tell if he’s speaking Common or that witchtongue he casts in.

It’s like being buried, he thinks, and has to swallow back bile, squeezing Shigaraki’s hand tighter. But the image doesn’t leave him as the air presses in: each breath another spadeful of dirt strewn over a grave. Each step another stone piled on a cairn.

“That’s starting to hurt, Spinner.” The voice crashes over him in a cold wave and he gasps at the shock of it despite himself. “You never said you were afraid of the dark.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Spinner chokes out, voice hoarse. “This isn’t regular dark and you know it.”

Does he, though? The thought arrives in his head like a stranger. Does he even know the difference between real dark and this?

With only Shigaraki’s hand to tether him to reality, Spinner almost can’t identify the thought as his own, wonders for a second if it might not be, but if there’s something in here with them projecting thoughts into his head, they’re in even more trouble than he guessed.

Shigaraki hums in an unconvinced—and really unhelpful—sort of way, and suddenly stops.

“Ah.”

Spinner gargles a questioning noise and Shigaraki’s voice returns, flat and affectless.

“Found it. Up ahead.” He walks forward purposefully and Spinner follows, teeth gritted, focusing on believing, really believing, in the existence of a level and unobstructed floor.

They walk for longer than Spinner would think it necessary for something in range of Shigaraki’s darkvision. He can see farther in the dark than he can in the light, Toga told him once, laughing, and seeing as Shigaraki was just a regular human and not some kind of nocturnal or subterranean creature, Spinner had written it off. Now the words come back with a mocking edge.

Finally, Shigaraki lifts their hands, bringing them to a stop. A pause, then his fingers rap across Spinner’s knuckles. “Need this back now.”

Spinner does not whine a protest—his throat’s way too locked up for that. Still, it takes a minute of internal browbeating to force himself to unclench his claws. They’re standing in front of something now; he can feel the nearness of it, maybe from how Shigaraki’s voice sounded bouncing off of it. A big new barrier that they have to figure out, and there’s no reason for them to split up now. No reason for Shigaraki to just disappear on him.

Shigaraki extricates his hand as soon as Spinner’s pried his fingers loose enough, and Spinner swallows, easing in closer and concentrating on the sound of Shigaraki’s clothes rustling, of his questing hands thumping lightly against stone and sliding stutter-rough over the surface.

After a minute of prodding, he falls still. Spinner waits for something to happen, but there’s just more silence, and then Shigaraki’s voice, just a thin whisper.

“Spinner.”

“Mm?”

“Whatever we find in here…”

“I’m not backing out on you,” Spinner says, as if that’s even an option right now, anyway.

“It’s not that.” A beat. “Thank you. For that. But what I meant was—whatever’s in here has been serving a devil for a long time. So don’t volunteer information you don’t have to.”

Something rocks back, a counterweight falling or a tumbler settling back in a casing, and a mumbled, “Oh,” is all Spinner can manage before the barrier cracks open.

After a longer time in total darkness than he ever wants to repeat, or preferably even think about again after today, the light dazzles his eyes, bright enough that Spinner winces back, bringing up his arm and trying to squint out from under it. Shigaraki huffs in annoyance but stalks forward anyway, leaving Spinner to stumble after him lest the door close between them.

Shigaraki stops once they’re over the threshold, giving Spinner time to blink rapidly until his eyes adjust. It doesn’t take long—as bright as it seemed at first, inside the room, the light is pale, watery green, an ambient marsh fire flickering that permeates thinly across yet another empty hall. This one’s much smaller than the atrium, a double line of pillars lining a path up to a raised dais set in a stone alcove. There’s—a throne up there, because of course there’s a throne up there, its surface glimmering a wet black. Writing marks the wall behind it, two curving arcs of even, scored-in letters. He doesn’t recognize the words, but the alphabet looks the same as the pair of runes carved into the insides of Shigaraki’s wrists, and it gives him the creeps there, too.

“So what now?”

He pulls his eyes away to shoot a glance at Shigaraki but even as he registers Shigaraki scratching at his wrist, his skin chalk-white, some instinct crawls up Spinner’s spine and keeps him turning. His eyes land on the temple guardian knight from the second layer, standing—impossibly—barely twenty feet away from them, just inside the door.

Spinner’s mouth opens on a sharp inhale and the guardian vanishes.

Short-range, Spinner’s brain gibbers. Line of sight. Four directions. One down because it’s the one the guardian approached from. One down because it’d put him right in Shigaraki’s path. So one of the sides, then, and Spinner draws his other sword, sweeping his arm out and stepping wide behind Shigaraki’s back, pushing him into a staggering step sideways just as the guardian reappears to Spinner’s right, taking one easy step in, right into range for both of them.

The man’s hands move in a blur of arcane gestures and gleaming steel; the frisson of magical energy accompanies the fleet sting of the guardian’s blade slicing a furrow down Spinner’s arm. Behind him, Shigaraki hisses in surprise and pain. Off-balance, Spinner all but trips into the Web spell as it lashes itself into existence around them, clinging fiercely to the walls, the pillars, and to Spinner and Shigaraki both.

“Again?!” Shigaraki rasps, indignant. “Spinner, tell me you dodged this bullshit child’s play spell!”

“He did something with his dagger!” Spinner snaps back, pulling for all he’s worth at the web—it is a pitifully low-level spell, but apparently that doesn’t matter when it’s being cast by goddamn temple guardians like the one easing back into position in front of Spinner.

He still hasn’t fully recovered from the number Dabi and Toga did on him before. His blue and red finery hangs charred and tattered, and a discolored stain marks the spot where Toga put a dagger between his ribs before he even saw her coming. He’s not much more than on his feet, but that’s bad enough, considering Spinner was pretty sure up to about fifteen seconds ago that he was dead.

“Good instincts,” the man tells him, voice soft. “But not quick enough, villain. We guardians have been trying to get into this chamber to purify it for years now, with no success. Thank you for opening it for us.”

Shigaraki goes still behind him, a dangerous stillness that would be more heartening if the eldritch knight hadn’t already locked down his movements and gotten out of Shigaraki’s line of sight.

“We don’t know what the demon king promised you, Shigaraki Tomura, but be assured that it was a lie. And Iguchi Shuuichi, please cease struggling.” The man reaches a hand down into a pouch at his belt. “A warlock’s promises are no more to be trusted than that of his master’s. You’re not the one who’s been dabbling in forbidden magic, so don’t make this worse for yourself and you might still walk away with a fairly light sentence.”

Rage bubbles up in Spinner’s throat, a taste of bile with a familiar acidic bite, boiling up the back of his throat for release. He should swallow it back like always, but—

Four years, and I never told them, he thinks, glaring at the guardian. I didn’t want to have to tell them like this, but—not here. Not when we’re this close!

He opens his jaw and breathes out all his fury and frustration in one long, hateful burst of poison gas.

It takes the guardian full in the face. The man reels backward, breath rattling in his lungs, arm raising to his suddenly streaming eyes. The web doesn’t dissipate on the spot—there’s not quite enough punch in Spinner’s ancestral breath weapon for that—but it sags away from the near wall and Spinner shrugs himself out of it with the ease of stripping off a shirt.

Blades still in hand, he’s going in for the follow-through, the guardian already recovering, when the light in the room—pulses. A heartbeat flicker dims and brightens the illumination, and suddenly there’s movement in the shadows between the pillars, the sea glass light thrown back in the same liquid gleam as the throne.

«How—unsightly. A champion of good, in this place?» A burbling laugh follows. «I’ll have you leave now, hero. The successor and I have work to do.»

The knight tries to leap past Spinner, eyes on the still-restrained Shigaraki. Spinner hisses defiance and lashes out, curving his short sword into the man’s path. The blow catches under the guardian’s arm and Spinner throws his weight into shoving him back, halting the advance.

And then the shadows are on them.

Gargoyles? Spinner thinks, but they’re way too big for that; he’s fought shorter ogres. And these things definitely aren’t ogres; their skin looks jet-hard, and though a few of them have the steel-bellied paunch for the thicker sort of giant-kin, the others are all sharp-hewn musculature. They all have the same eyes, though, fixed stares as unblinking as serpents’. Spinner falls back as close to Shigaraki as he can without chancing the web again, and two of the beasts circle around him in a way that he would peg as a hunting prowl if their gazes weren’t turned towards the guardian.

For his part, the hero takes one look around at the new developments and raises his free hand to cast—Expeditious Retreat; Spinner’s seen that one from Sako often enough, and then the man’s gone, bolting through the exit and into the darkness beyond.

The voices chuckles again, a reverberation in it that, given the mireland phosphorescence, tells Spinner with an unavoidable mortal dread, Undead.

«After him, my darlings. And one of you close the door after you.»

There’s a blackwater surge and the creatures streak out in an eerily silent rush. As requested, the one at the rear of the pack—one of the ones that had been circling Spinner—stops long enough to pull the door closed behind it, yellow eyes holding Spinner’s gaze until the slab cuts it out of sight.

He doesn’t exhale in relief just yet, but turns to Shigaraki, who’s regained his footing, brushing off fraying remnants of spiderweb in annoyance. Spinner steps up beside him, weapons lowered but still out.

Shigaraki glares around the room. “Well?”

The light flickers again and starts to coalesce, leeching out of the rest of the room as it draws inward toward the throne. A shape begins to form—not in the throne, but standing at its right hand—a short, round man with blank white eyes and a thick mustache, his skin glowing the same sickly shade the light had. The same runes Shigaraki bears on his wrists are carved right into his forehead, where they burn with a weird black light that gives Spinner the horrible feeling his brain’s trying to rebel against his eyeballs. The spirit’s dressed in tatters of white, a stark contrast to Shigaraki’s close-cut black.

«You’re an imperious one.» He laughs again, the pitch high and mad. «As it should be! Ahh, let me look at you.»

He blinks in out of existence, plunging the chamber into a locked-vault darkness that nearly has Spinner grabbing for Shigaraki’s hand again, but reappears just a few seconds later, right in front of them. From there, he circles around them, milky gaze combing up and down Shigaraki, his mouth moving weirdly out of sync with the torrent of words he lets loose.

«Red eyes, I see, and hair all gone white; I don’t suppose you were born that way. Those scars and abrasions—did you fight against it for so long? You’re a bit scrawny, but I suppose it can’t easy, getting this far. And ahh, you have the Tome! Marvelous, marvelous! I trust you have the ritual inscribed there? Your cicatrices, where are they?»

Shigaraki flicks up one wrist and doesn’t even flinch when the spirit wraps glowing fingers around it, leaning in close and peering at his scar, nodding rapidly. The touch leaves a livid mark, raised on his skin like a scald-wound.

“So you’re the guardian,” Shigaraki says when the ghost finally pulls away. “You’re supposed to help me take the next step.”

«Yes! I am called Garaki Kyudai, Rector of the Great Vault and Pedagogue of the Way.»

Garaki? Spinner mouths the name, not a whisper of voice in it, but still the spirit wheels on him, the gaze knotting Spinner’s stomach with the same revulsion the rotting air out in the hallway had.

«Garaki! A namesake of the great demon king, much as his successor bears, I’m sure.» Garaki circles Spinner now, regarding him as closely as he had Shigaraki moments before. «And you, dragon-kin?»

“Dragon-kin?” Spinner winces at the bite in Shigaraki’s tone. He’s the smartest person in their party, even smarter than their actual wizard. Of course he noticed something when Spinner breathed poison gas all over an enemy five feet behind his back. “Is that what that was before?”

«A perfectly-timed dose of noxious effluvium,» Garaki says approvingly. «He’s a rather fine specimen, successor.»

Shigaraki side-eyes Spinner, stare lingering on his mouth and his claws before finally moving up to meet his gaze. “He always told us he was a lizardman,” he says, the words accusing.

Garaki laughs, an explosion of incredulous delight. «A lizardman! He must be quite the convincing speaker. No, he’s an emerald-blooded cur if ever I’ve seen one. But I suppose if any wyrm-born were going to pass for the lizardfolk, it would be a green. They don’t have the horns the other breeds do, you know. In fact—»

“There was a crusade against dragonborn twenty years ago,” Spinner bites out at last, tired of being talked over and irked at the snort Shigaraki had made at the convincing speaker bit. “I don’t make a habit of telling people.”

Shigaraki’s eyebrows go up as the ghost tuts. After a second, his eyes narrow, a familiar measuring expression overtaking his face.

“…You’ve been with us this long and you never used a breath weapon?”

Spinner shifts in place. There’ve been a few times over their journeys when he’s been pushed to it. In Mydsos, when the air was full of so much stinking miasma anyway that he didn’t think anyone would notice. When everyone had gotten separated in the Cato labyrinths. When it was just him and Jin that time against that sahuagin chief, and Jin was such a shitty swimmer that he could barely keep facing in the same direction moment to moment. But this—it felt different.

But we were so close. I couldn’t let—

He coughs and forces himself to say, “Only as a last resort.”

Shigaraki looks—impressed. It’s not an expression Spinner’s seen on his face much, and recognizing it now sends a touch of warmth through him, despite the ghost’s chill presence. It lasts just a moment, then Shigaraki turns back to the rector.

“Are we done with the inspection now?” he demands. “I’ve got things to get back to.”

«Oh, “things.” I see, I see.» The spirit’s voice drops into a canny tone. «Well, you may wish to tell “things” that you’ll be here for a while yet. Taking the power of the demon king isn’t so simple as just planting yourself in his throne.»

“Then I need to get a message out. We can make one of your weird pets do it when they get back.”

«Weird pets! They’re wonderful creations, I’ll have you know. Loyal beyond death—you might have a need for such loyalty yourself one day.»

Shigaraki steps between Spinner and Garaki even as the ghost’s attention turns. “Don’t look at my dragonborn,” he says, a piercing command. “Look at me.”

Garaki and Spinner both do, Garaki chuckling, Spinner’s heartbeat a stuttered pulse in his throat. And as Shigaraki starts to lay out a plan, they both listen.

———– ———– ———– ———–

Shigaraki: Warlock with a Fiend patron (AFO) Spinner: Ranger, Hunter archetype (sorry about your class sucking so hard in 5E, Spin) Toga: Rogue, Assassin archetype Dabi: Sorcerer, Wild Magic origin (frequently at odds with Tomura over efficient use of one’s spell slots) Mr. Compress: Wizard, Conjuration school Magne: Fighter/Bard, Champion archetype and College of Valor, respectively Twice: Cleric, Life domain (also two levels of Paladin, shhhh; he never broke any oaths if he never advanced far enough to make any)

#spinarakiweek2020 #shigaraki tomura #iguchi shuuichi #spinner bnha #ujiko daruma #boku no hero academia #bnha #my writing #ficcing #my hero academia #gaming

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idontknowanymoreaaaaaa · 4 years ago

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After watching the live action Kim Possible movie:

Don’t mess with a good tv show

Please

Why did they get rid of Kim being a cheerleader and replace it with soccer? (Yeah I know she said she wanted to try out for cheer and Bonnie told her they were all about soccer in high school, but the whole sport trading thing was just weird they should’ve stuck with cheerleading, that’s what made Kim Possible so amazing) She was a cheerleader NOT a soccer player

Also, where was Monique? Okay I know that the movie is set in their freshman year of high school and they didn’t meet Monique until like, the 2nd season of the show, but still, she was Kim’s best friend aside from Ron. And instead they replaced her with Athena who was so obviously a robot, like I saw that coming from the moment she started fangirling over Kim (although I don’t blame her I mean Athena gave off major queer vibes and if she wasn’t an evil robot designed by Drakken she definitely would’ve just been a gay in denial with a crush on Kim. Who doesn’t have a crush on Kim though I mean she’s smart and talented and kind and pretty...)

And at first I didn’t like that they changed up Drakken so much, I mean, where was his iconic spiky ponytail? Where was the blue skin? But admittedly, the new look grew on me (if he were closer to my age I might even think he was hot) and they did give him like, super blue looking veins, possibly hinting at future blue skin if there were a sequel??? Or maybe it was just a design choice so that the actor didn’t have to constantly have full blue makeup and I’m reading too much into it

Shego. I am so in love with Shego. She’s GORGEOUS. I loved the look, I didn’t even care that she wasn’t pale green. She was amazing. She looked perfect, the acting, the personality was on POINT she was just a fucking masterpiece. A work of art. I am gay.

I loved Ron, his voice was so close to the original that sometimes when I looked away from the screen and he started talking, I could actually picture the original Ron speaking. He was amazing, not perfect, but pretty dang good. Also I think I’m gay for Ron (wait is that weird to say since I’m technically almost 18 and he’s canonically a freshman in the movie? I mean I felt the same about cartoon Ron and he was also canonically in high school but by the end of the show he was an adult and that’s kind of when I started to have queer feelings for him so does that make it okay since he was a senior and I’m a senior or am I just making excuses for myself?? I’m probably worrying too much about this since it’s a fictional character and our age difference isn’t even that far off but I still kinda feel weird about it soo...). Or maybe it’s just that I want to be Ron. I’m not entirely sure. But I’ve definitely got some sort of queer feelings going on for Ron

Kim herself could’ve been better. I liked the look, though her eyes definitely weren’t as green as they were in the show but that’s just a cartoon-to-real-life thing and I have to deal with it. Her acting wasn’t as good as Ron or Shego and I’m a little disappointed in that but I don’t blame the actress, I imagine it’s very difficult to play a girl who is simultaneously one of the most girly girls on the planet, and a tomboyish superhero and I definitely could not have done it so considering all things I’m sure the actress did the best she could. I think my main problem is that the movie was so short compared to the tv show (obviously they can’t cram 4 seasons of character development into an hour an a half) but we didn’t really get to know Kim. She gave her brief narration at the beginning of the movie that kinda-sort of explained how she got into the hero business but it was like, 1 minute of explanation mixed with fighting and explosions so that’s not much character background to go off of which means you only really know Kim if you’ve already seen the show, but even then this is set before the show (obviously since they’re just starting high school whereas in the show they’re already in high school and seem to be fairly familiar with the building which means they’re not freshmen). Overall I think her characterization could’ve been better. She’s not as fleshed-out as she was in the show, and I understand it’s hard to translate a tv show into a movie, like I said earlier in this paragraph, but I’ve seen it done before and this definitely could’ve been done better. (Although it’s still not the worst movie adaptation I’ve seen, I’m looking at you Percy Jackson)

We didn’t get to see much of the tweebs which was kinda disappointing, I loved their antics (and helpfulness) in the show, and in the movie we don’t get any of that. They’re just background characters. I did like that they were played by actual twins though, it’s like Fred and George. Actual twins just play twins better than everyone else

I absolutely LOVED Nana. She wasn’t in the show much, but she was very present in the movie and I enjoyed it. However, if we’re taking the movie as a prequel to the show (and based on the time placement of everything, I’m taking it as a prequel) then that would mean Kim already knew about Nana’s awesome fighting skills before the episode where we meet her, and that would mean that Kim would’ve had to forget about her Nana’s awesomeness and no one thought it was a problem that needed fixed. Maybe Nana asked Kim’s mom to do a little forced brain surgery to get rid of the memory? But that doesn’t make any sense, since in both the movie and the show, Nana doesn’t seem to have a problem with Kim knowing about her skills. So yeah, that bit bugs me, but overall, 10/10 loved Nana

I actually only have one other problem with this movie (other than the fact that a lot of Kim’s lines were super cheesy(and not the yummy naco kind of cheese))

In the show they clearly state MULTIPLE TIMES that Ron bought Rufus at Smarty Mart because his dad has allergies and so he wasn’t allowed to have any pets with hair/fur

But in the movie, Ron just takes Rufus from the lab where they fight Shego. He stole Rufus. And sure, you could say that Ron saved Rufus from whatever experiments might have been done on him if Ron hadn’t taken him, but then what about all the other helpless animals huh? They’re gonna get experimented on and no one seems to care about that. I want answers. Either stick to the original canonity of Ron buying Rufus from Smarty Mart, or have Ron save all the animals from potentially horrible experimentation, even the electric eels, I will not allow exceptions. It just didn’t make any sense for them to change the Rufus-Ron relationship backstory. There was no need to change it. It made perfect sense in the show. It made no sense in the movie. I rest my case.

The movie in general wasn’t terrible I suppose, but as I’ve said multiple times in this post, it could’ve been better. There was so much potential and they screwed it up. But as a stand-alone film, loosely based off a perfect tv show, it was pretty good

#Rant

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piemakersanddeadgirls · 4 years ago

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Dreamfast With Me

Finally worked up the courage to post my Sanders Sides Dark Crystal AU

Virgil

Clan: The Grottan

Maudra (clan matriarch): Argot, the Shadow Bender

Appearance: Similar to that of Amri’s in the Dark Crystal YA novels, pale almost gray skin, with one side of his head shaved while the other his silver hair is long. His eyes are dark, almost completely black when in the dark cave and at night to help him see in the dark but in the bright sunlight you can see the true color of his eyes, the right a deep emerald and the left a deep amethyst purple. He has pointed faun-like ears as all Gelfling do. His clothing consists of traditional Grottan light-colored tunic and pants made from Nurloc hide and a dark cloth cloak.

Virgil was born and raised in Domrak, the Grottan stronghold deep within the Caves of Grot. Like all Grottan Gelfling he was taken to the Sanctuary when he came of age to be taught by the Mystic urLii, how to read and care for the many secrets and ancient relics of the Gelfling race that were long ago entrusted to his clan for safe keeping. He managed to escape the initial onslaught of Arathim attacks, as he was deep within the Tomb of Relics when it started and was able to escape to the surface through a collapsed tunnel. His eye makeup, originally just for aesthetic, seemed to help ease the glare of the three suns on his sensitive eyes, similar to the black tear marks on a cheetah. He manages to find his from the mountains to the Black River, following it south and traveling mostly by night to escape the blinding light of the suns. He eventually crosses the river and makes his way into the Spriton plains where he collapses in the tall grass feeling lost and alone. Patton finds him there.

Patton

Clan: The Spriton

Maudra: Mera, The Dream Sticher

Appearance: Dark tanned skin, long raven hair and bright blue eyes. He tries to keep his hair braided back to keep it out of his face, but he never manages to to quite make it tight enough, the braids come loose and messy because of his high energy movements. He wears soft, bright colored clothes.

Patton was born on the outskirts of Sami Thicket, the main village of the Spriton caln. As he grew up, his family had found he had an affinity for working with landstriders and was sent to look after the domesticated herds with a few others when he came of age while most of his peers stayed close to Sami Thicket or near their parents to help tend the fields. While following a wild landstrider herd with a young calf at the edge of the plains he stumbles across a Grottan boy around the same age as he his. He’s lost and afraid and Patton quickly takes him under his wing and learns the Shadowlings name is Virgil (Shadowling is a canonical way the other clans refer to individual members of the Grottan clan in the YA novels and honestly probably the reason I started this, likewise the Vapran are sometimes called Silverlings).

Janus

Clan: The Drenchen

Maudra: Laesid, the Blue Stone Healer

Appearance: Green skin with dark dreadlocks, usually tied back to keep them out of his face. His right eye is brown while the left is a sharp yellow. He has a jagged scar the stretches across the left side of his face. His clothes are dark colored, he wears a short decorative cape (all waterproof and formfitting but still light as to not way him down when swimming). He has gills on both sides of his neck like all Drenchen, that are sealed shut on land but will open up when underwater.

Born in the village of Great Smerth, Janus has lived in the swamp of Sog his entire life. Most of the Drencen Gelfling are fierce warriors and while Janus certainly could fight when he needed to, he preferred talking his way out of things. The scar on his face came from an unfortunate accident with an angry nebrie and one of the creatures sharp tusks when he was young, Janus prefers not to talk about it as he also lost his parents in the accident. When it was discovered possessed the power to heal, he was sent to train under Maudra Laesid alongside her own children where he learned to control healing vliyaya (the mystic arts/magic of the Gelfling race). When he came of age he was given a quilled eel-like creature called a muski to raise as hunting partner, a creature that could glide through the air as easily as it could swim through the murky waters of the Sog, which he named Seeker (muskis never stop growing and can get enormous but Seeker is only a few years old and isn’t much bigger than a small python) . Janus grows tired of swamp life and yearns to see the world and sets out on his own (with Seeker by his side of course). Traveling north, he has to go through the Spriton plains first and find himself in Sami Thicket where he meets Patton and Virgil.

Logan

Clan: The Vapra

Maudra: Mayrin, The All-Maudra

Appearance: Tall (for a Gelfling anyway), pale skin and long silver hair that keeps in one tight, neat braid down the center of his back. His eyes are a deep indigo blue. He often finds splotches of ink on his face and hands from notetaking. He wears plain but pseudo formall Vapran garments, simple but made to keep warm in the cold mountain air.

Logan was born in Har’rar, the Gelfling capital and city of the Vapran. He became an apprentice under the Head Librarian. While Logan’s thirst for knowledge was unending and Har’rar’s library huge, it did not contain everything. he had vowed to read every book within it but found he could not stay in one place all the time. A trip to the coast leads him to meet two Sifan seafarers. While initially distrustful of them and their strange fortune telling and mystical sign reading ways, the three became friendly and he was invited to sail with them anytime he wished, which he graciously accepted with a yearning to learn more of the mysterious Silver Sea better than he could read from books though he often returned to the library when he could.

Roman and Remus

Clan: The Sifa

Maudra: Gem-Eyed Ethri

Appearance: Roman and Remus both have the tan skin and red curly hair of the Sifa and bright green eyes. The only way to truly tell them apart by just looking at tehm is their clothing and hair as Remus has a white strip through his bangs. While Roman wears the traditional Sifan blues with a touch of red, Remus prefers black and greens, though their clothes are light, they’re suitable for the ever-changing weather of the open sea.

Roman and Remus were born in Cera-Na, the main port the Sifa return to, to trade or in times of need. Twins are a rarity in the world of Thra and considered two halves of the same soul. While both of them are Far-Dreamers, Remus’s ability to enter the Dream Space is much more random, where Roman often has to prepare a ritual like the other Sifa and has the ability to ask the Dream Space to show him visions of certain places and events, Remus sometimes slips into it accidentally, usually seeing things he didn’t ask to see. While the other members of their clans never heeded Remus’s visions, Roman did and is the reason they chose to rarely return to Cera-Na unless called by Maudra Ethri. They sometimes dock near Har’rar to trade trinkets and treasures they’ve found in their travels for supplies. They met a Vapran named Logan there and while their initial meeting is awkward and distrustful, they eventually see the same look of yearning to explore in Logan’s eyes that they hav and invite him to sail with them. Logan takes to the sea and sailing as if he’d been born into it the way the twins had been. The three grow close, especially when Logan does not dismiss Remus’s Far-Dreams thew way most others do.

#Sanders Sides #ts sides dark crystal AU #dreamfast with me #virgil sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders

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need-a-fugue · 4 years ago

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Why Not? - Chapter Eight

Summary: With a garage to run and a young daughter to, well… run after, Bucky Barnes doesn’t exactly have time for dating. And with his relationship track record – and the constant meddling of a certain overbearing best friend – he’s not so sure that’s a bad thing. But then he meets Annie – a rather insistent, pretty damn cute fellow car enthusiast – and it’s got him asking himself, despite all his hesitations, why not?

Author’s Note: Written for Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge. Thanks to @sourpatchkidsandacokecan for triggering this… sprawling thing simply by supplying me with the prompt of Mechanic!AU for Bucky. It’s taken on a life of its own already… look at what you’ve done!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: SUPER fluffy. Always some language.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks for the fourth – maybe fifth – time since Annie arrived at his place about an hour ago.

When he called, not long after Lana was dropped off this morning, and invited her over, he expected her to say that she was busy. It was pretty short notice, after all. And he had already told her that he wouldn’t be available to hang out all weekend because of dad duty. But as it turned out, she was free as a bird, already bored out of her mind, and – much to his suspicious delight – super pumped to spend the day with them.

Not with him. With them.

Natasha – with all her inelegant poking and prodding – had brought a rather significant doubt of his to the surface. And if he were to be totally honest with himself, he’d have to admit that inviting Annie over for a fun-filled Saturday with a small child she barely knew was a test of sorts. But he’d also have to admit that just by agreeing to his last-minute proposal – and then by making a beeline for his place, and coming in hot with a fully formed plan for the day – she’d already passed.

She shrugs, still on her hands and knees in the corner, picking up all of Lana’s scattered toys and plopping them back into their assigned cubbies. “Why not? It’ll be fun. Besides, it really is a travesty that neither of you have ever been to the aquarium.”

Bucky continues to loom over her, hands on his hips and thoughtful frown on his face as he watches her happily tidy up after his kid. “You really don’t have to do that,” he says, repeating himself uselessly. He knows she won’t stop, knows that – beyond simply not minding – she seems to actually enjoy cleaning up messes. Remember what I do for a living, she had reminded him when he first cocked a brow at her picking up around his place.

She shoves the last full cube back into its cubby and spins around with a sigh, flopping onto her butt. “Done,” spills from her lips along with an easy smile as she sits on the floor, long legs splayed out atop the hardwood. His eyes inadvertently trace along the subtly tanned skin of her naked shins, up over her knees, settling in at her upper thighs, where the pale green shorts begin their wretched concealment.

After nearly a month of rushed-through meetups and stolen moments – sometimes, if they were lucky, hours – away from work and swim lessons and soccer games… and planning someone else’s lavish wedding, Bucky’s starting to get used to the pull he feels when he looks at Annie. When he sees her dimples cave in amid a deep and luminous smile as she sips coffee across from him at a café. When he catches her absently weaving a hand through her thick, dark hair, curling a single wave around her finger as she reflects, lips forming a thoughtful, silent pout. When an open suit jacket slips carelessly from her shoulder as he walks her back to work after a hurried early dinner. When she sits on his floor and her shorts ride up just enough for his imagination to spark… maybe even flame.

“Daddy?” pulls him swiftly from his thoughts, entire body spinning away from the woman on the floor and towards the hall where the small, sleepy voice originated.

“Hey, baby doll,” he breathes out, his tone cool and relaxed despite the still pounding of his heart. The little girl shuffles over to him and faceplants into his leg with a wide yawn. “You have a good nap?” he asks, reaching down and gathering her easily into his arms.

“Mm-hmm.” She swipes her face back and forth across his shoulder, lets his steady sway and the even pat of his large hand between her shoulder blades slowly pull her from the sleep addled stupor. Another yawn, another lazy turn of her head, and she’s finally able to focus her eyes just enough to see, “Annie!”

Bucky gives her another pat and a little jostle before awkwardly dropping down to the floor beside his – what was she, really? His friend? His date? His girlfriend? His…? He shakes his head swiftly and lets out a huff as he positions Lana in his lap, her body still heavy with the remnants of sleep. “Yeah, Annie’s here,” he spills out into her hair as she leans into him. “That okay?”

She shrugs and reaches out lazily for the woman, fingers flexing and fisting. “You came to play?”

Annie’s face splits wide with an achingly sweet smile, her dimples popping and causing something to ignite inside Bucky’s chest. “Yeah,” she enthuses. “I thought we could play. And maybe,” she starts, conspiratorial note to her voice as she leans in close and gently takes hold of Lana’s grabby little hand. “Maybe I could convince your dad to take us somewhere special.”

“Like… ice cream?” she asks, her nose tightly crinkling in something akin to confusion.

“Better,” she tells her, bright green eyes positively gleaming in the early afternoon sunlight spilling in from the window to her left.

Lana lets out a small grunt as she pushes off of Bucky’s chest and stares at him, a suspicious note to her gaze that has him biting down on the corner of his lip to suppress a laugh. “Where, daddy?”

He reaches out and pets down her wild curls, gently combing through them with his fingers as he replies, “I think Annie wants us to go to the aquarium.”

“Don’t sound too excited,” she murmurs with a raised brow, her haughty expression merely causing that fire within him to burn even hotter.

“Where the fishies live?” Lana asks, a sudden, sincerely interested lilt to her voice. Her eyes ping back and forth between her father and the woman at her side, settling on Annie when she offers a long, slow nod in response.

“And you know what else they have?” she asks, green eyes widening with excitement. “Sea otters!”

“What’s a s’otter?” Lana asks, her face pulling with wonder.

“You’ve seen otters before, baby,” Bucky reminds her. “At the zoo.”

But before she can say anything, Annie is quick to jump in with, “These otters are better. They play all day, and you can watch them eat… and they play with their food!”

“Great,” Bucky mutters glumly. “Just what she needs… a lesson in how to play with her food.”

Lana shoves off of his lap, pausing only for the brief moment it takes for her father to grab hold of her T-shirt and tug it back into place. “I wanna see fishies,” she proclaims, moving swiftly past the two adults and making a beeline for her once-again-organized toys in the corner.

Annie turns to Bucky, gives him a smug grin along with a raised brow, and says simply, “Can’t wait.”

000

He hates this. Everything about it. The dark blue tunnels designed to make them feel like they’re underwater. The low light and undulating waves within the walls. The fish – of every sort and size – swimming in slow arcs around them as they step slowly through the crowded passageways. It isn’t natural. It isn’t right. And it’s downright terrifying.

“What’s with you?” Annie asks as she gives him a sharp shoulder check. He tears his eyes away from Lana’s form – from her tiny hands pressed up against the glass, so damn close to a million of nature’s most horrifying creatures – and turns them up to latch onto the woman at his side. “Woah,” she laughs, pulling back a bit at seeing his bright blue eyes wide and alight with what can only be described as pure horror. “Not a fan of fish?”

He drops a thick sigh and tries to blink away the – apparently obvious – fright in his gaze. “Don’t like the water,” he mumbles. “Or anything… in it.”

“Daddy, look!” Lana shouts from several feet away. In just those brief seconds, the four year old had managed to skitter past them and down to a crowded section of the tunnel where at least ten other children are shoving for space to see through the glass. Bucky’s by her side in a few quick strides, lifting her up before she gets body slammed by a pair twin boys about twice her size. “Look!” she repeats, wiggling in his arms as she points down at the rocks and coral across the floor of the sprawling aquarium. Right where she had been standing – where the creepy ginger twins now have their palms spread wide against the glass – a giant snake-like thing lingers half hidden and then shoots out from beneath a reef, rocketing through the seascape.

“Jesus,” he intones thickly, his arms unconsciously wrapping tighter around his little girl.

“It’s an eel,” Annie states simply, stepping up behind him and laying a soothing hand on his back, casually raking her fingertips up along his spine. She peers over his shoulder. “Pretty cool, huh, Lana?”

Svetlana wiggles again in her father’s grasp, seemingly oblivious to his distress, and turns in his hold to follow the trail of the spindly, terrifying creature. “Yeah. Cool.”

“Not cool,” Bucky says, hushed voice stuttering from his chest. He lets his head fall back, gaze shifting to the myriad animals swimming and floating above them – all around them – as they stand inside this dark and crowded deathtrap. “This place is…” Hell? A fucking nightmare? He lets the words lie low in his throat, thought trailing off as his eyes continue to drift.

Then… again… “Daddy, look!” Lana pitches forward in his arms as she reaches out to point a chubby little finger at a giant, slinking fish. “Look how big!”

Bucky does look. And that’s just the problem. He looks the monster right in its beady eye as it slowly swims past. He looks at the creature’s fins – the tall triangular one on top – and he actually hears his own heart begin to beat to the rhythm of the Jaws theme.

“Ooo,”Annie’s voice trickles from behind him, barely making it past the steadily increasing duh-dun, duh-dun reverberating in his mind. “It’s a tiger shark.”

“Pretty,” Lana coos, wide eyes following the beast closely as it twists and rises. “Look!” Her little finger continues to point, arm stretching into a tall, wide arc as the shark ascends and swims directly over the top of them.

Bucky chokes on a breath and looks away. But everywhere his gaze lands, there are more damn fish. More ocean and water and… darkness, all closing in around him.

“Look, Lana,” he hears Annie enthuse, her voice murky and distant despite coming from mere inches away. “There’s another one!”

“Uh,” he moans shortly, blinking his eyes tightly shut. Then, “Nope. No,” is flung from his lips as his head begins a wild shake. “No,” he repeats, spinning around and shoving his little girl into Annie’s arms. He barely catches the shocked look she gives him, pausing only for the moment it takes to confirm that her hold on Lana is safe and steady. “I can’t…” he mutters, clearing his throat dully.

She simply nods and adjusts the obliviously distracted girl in her arms. “You want us to meet you outside?” she offers gently, her tone low and understanding.

He nods in return, mumbling out a simple, “Mm-hmm,” amid a thick swallow. And then he turns and jogs for the exit.

It’s almost fifteen minutes before his girls emerge from the undersea tunnel. Just long enough for him to calm his frayed nerves and begin to kick himself for being such an ass. For freaking out like a little bitch over some damn fish. Fish. Ugh. He lets loose an involuntary shudder, body shivering slightly despite the overwhelming heat.

“Hey,” he hears from behind, recognizing the voice immediately. He turns and sees Annie – smiling and squinting against the harsh glare of the sun – walking towards him, a happy, skipping Svetlana clinging to her hand.

“Hey,” he replies with a grin of his own, not quite as easy as hers, but not as tremulous as he fears either. He reaches out as they approach, wraps a hand around her upper arm and tugs her gently to his side. “Thanks,” he mutters, voice soft and rich in her ear.

Her breath catches for a moment, the feel of his thumb tracing lightly over her flesh, the sound of his voice pulling from deep in his chest and spilling out softly to her… just for her. “Y-yeah,” she stammers briefly. “Of course.” But before she can say anything else, he’s bent over in front of her, kneeling before his little girl.

“Sorry I took off, kiddo. You have fun with Annie?”

“Yeah,” she says, desperately trying to blink away the painful swell of sudden brightness. He raises his hand above her forehead to block out the sun a bit, give her little eyes another minute to adjust to being out of that godawful cave. “There were sharks, daddy. And fishies. And… and…” She looks up, mid-ramble, tugging on Annie’s hand to get her attention. “And Annie knows them all.”

“She does?” he asks, a rather impressed expression taking over as he too glances up.

She offers a blasé shrug. “I know my way around an aquarium.”

Bucky rises, accepting Lana’s free hand with a practiced ease as she slides inside his fingers. “You a marine biologist in your down time?” he asks, crooked smile blooming.

She drops a small, amused snort – “As if I have any down time.” – and leans over Lana to softly whisper in his ear, “I may have made up some species of fishies to make myself look good. Don’t be surprised if she tells you that angel sharks like to eat California raisin shrimp.”

A deep, languid chuckle rumbles out of him as he pulls ahead toward a small kiosk, tugging both of them in turn. “Well, I don’t know if you caught on to this or not… I’m pretty good at covering… but I fucking hate fish.”

“Daddy, you can’t say that,” Lana chides from between them.

“Sorry, baby.”

“Hate’s a bad word,” she declares with just enough authority to cause him to roll his eyes, Natasha’s teachings shining brightly through their little girl.

Annie bites back a laugh, actually coughing around it when the sheer silly sweetness of those words causes her to choke on the chortle. She glances up and sees the menu board on the kiosk ahead. “Are you gonna buy us ice cream?” she asks, crafty note to her voice.

“Figured it’s the least I can do after leaving you to fend for yourself against those sharks.”

“I wasn’t by myself,” she tells him, coy grin splitting her face. “Had a trusty sidekick…” She swings Svetlana’s arm and looks down to her. “Right, Lana?”

“Uh-huh,” she replies absently, eyes fixed on the chalkboard ahead, heavily decorated with drawings of ice cream cones and giant sundaes. “Chocolate, please!”

“So,” Annie begins once they take a seat at an empty – albeit pretty damn dirty table – already melting ice cream in hand. She scrubs absently at a old spill on the tabletop with a wad of napkins, lays out a few extra in front of Lana before turning and chucking the spent paper into the garbage. “Fish, huh?”

He shrugs, swallowing down a giant bite. “Everybody’s got something, right?”

“Were you attacked by a shark when you were a kid?” she asks, corner of her mouth ticking up into a teasing smirk. “Are you the Soul Surfer girl?”

“Very funny.”

“Did a shark eat your arm?”

Lana stops licking her cone and looks up at him with wide eyes and a chocolate smeared face. “A shark ate you?”

“Not yet,” he states, quirking an amused grin that merely causes the girl’s face to twist and pinch with suspicion. “And I don’t plan on getting close enough for one to get me either.”

She stares at him for a moment longer, eyes narrowed and assessing in that very specific Romanov way. Part of him loves when she looks at him – or anyone – like this. The shrewdness cloaking that soft, baby face is just too damn cute and comical. But part of him hates it too. Because he knows that someday she’s going to grow into that wise-beyond-her-years look, and damn if that doesn’t just break his heart.

“I’m afraid of ghosts,” Annie blurts out suddenly, drawing both sets of Barnes eyes to her. “I admit it,” she says, taking a giant bite from her waffle cone and flinging both shoulders up into a helpless shrug. She quickly chews and swallows, finishing with, “I think they’re real. I think they’re scary. I think there might be one in my apartment.”

Bucky’s eyes flash to the little girl by his side, reading her face to find any hint of fear. Just what I need, he thinks to himself, a kid in my bed for the next two years as she learns not to be afraid of ghosts. But Lana’s face shows no dread at all, only a deep sort of interest. She continues to steadily lick at the rapidly melting ice cream in her hand, her head cocking to the side. “Maybe it’s a domo…” she pauses for a moment, brow furrowing as she tries to recall the term her mother taught her. “Domo… vo. Doe… movie. Doe…”

“What are you talking about, baby?” Bucky asks as he tries to fold some napkins around the dripping cone in her hand.

She licks and bites around him, almost talking into the ice cream when she mutters, “The old man in the wall.”

He pulls back and stares at her, a look of utter shock on his face. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Domovoi!” Annie declares from his left, shaking her cell triumphantly at him. She clears her throat and reads from the Googled entry on the screen. “The domovoi is a mischievous house spirit… a benign protector of the household.”

“Yeah,” Lana says, leaning forward and almost dropping her cone in the process. “Mama says he looks out for us. But sometimes he makes noise in the walls.”

Bucky’s eyes remain blown wide, his open mouth bobbing for a long moment before, “What the hell is your mother teaching you?” falls from his lips in an astonished tone.

The little girl shrugs and looks back over at Annie. “Mama says he keeps bad things away. So maybe you have a domo…”

“Domovoi,” she supplies.

“Maybe that’s what’s in your house.”

She gives a slow, approving nod. “Maybe so,” she says before taking a final bite and handing Bucky her leftover napkins.

He shakes his head dully. “You’re both crazy,” he mutters before fisting the napkins and swiping them over his daughter’s filthy face.

Annie smirks, a gleaming twinkle in her eye. “This coming from the guy who’s afraid of Nemo.”

He spins on her, raising a brow. “Nemo wasn’t a shark.”

“Oh,” she breathes out, long and playful. “So you’re only scared of sharks? Because that eel seemed to bother you too.”

“Well, yeah,” he bleats out in a positively duh fashion. “It’s a fish that looks like a giant damn snake.”

“You know there actually is a snake fish… the snakehead,” she tells him casually, that teasing gleam in her eye only growing. “It’s long like a snake and has big, pointed teeth. And it can come out of the water and move over land.”

A stricken expression pulls at his features, “Oh, God,” falling from idly from his lips. “Tell me that’s not real.”

She shakes her head slowly to-and-fro. “Sorry, Buck. It’s real. It’s been spotted in the US too.” She holds up her phone. “You want me to show you?”

“God, no!” He cringes and shudders, turning back to Lana to finish scrubbing her down. “How do you even know that?”

She shrugs. “River Monsters. TV usually stays on all night… you know, to scare off the ghosts. I figure Jeremy Wade sounds more… intimidating than the Kardashians.”

He lets out a long sigh, shaking his head languidly back and forth. But before he can say a word, mock her like she’s been doing him, Svetlana pulls away from his hold, spitting around the napkin, and declares simply, “Uncle Steve’s scared of spiders. Mama has to kill them for him.”

Bucky’s lips purse as he slowly looks over to Annie, an unuttered sentiment carried on his gaze. A simple declaration – At least I can kill my own spiders – blooming in a newly smug smirk. She merely shrugs again, leaning in close to say, “That’s true love there. I don’t know that I’d be able to kill a snakehead for you.”

His brows rise high, teasing glimmer growing in his gaze, almost matching hers. “Well, as far as I know, it’s impossible to kill a ghost – seeing as how they don’t exist – so I guess you’re out of luck too, sweetheart.”

Lana crawls up into Bucky’s lap, his arms absently winding around her even as he continues to stare into Annie’s tempting eyes. “I’ll save you from the fishies, daddy,” she tells him, placing her still-sticky hands on his stubbled cheeks and tugging his face toward her.

“You will?” She nods, a single, firm jerk of her head that sends her dark curls flying. He leans down and rubs his nose against hers in a swift Eskimo kiss before perching his chin atop her head. His gaze shifts back to Annie, takes in the fond smile pulling at her lips. “Guess you’re right,” he intones casually. “True love.”

000

They stop for pizza on the way home, Annie’s treat, “A thank you for indulging me even though you obviously have a very serious aquatic phobia,” she tells Bucky when he protests. And by the time they finally make it back to his place, Svetlana is out cold.

Bucky carries her inside and off to her bedroom, tugging off her shoes and changing her into pajamas all without the little girl so much as stirring. Annie waits patiently, lurking by the breakfast bar, a bit uncomfortable in the midst of such a domestic scene.

Sure, she’s been to Bucky’s before. They’ve spent a few nights here, finishing off his beer and leftover Chinese, snacking on waffles while watching late night TV. She was here almost all night last Monday, watching and giggling as he tried to put together the shelves and cubbies she’d talked him into buying. She even spent the night on the couch… once. Just once. Only once, she reminds herself lest she begins to feel too comfortable in this – his – space.

But all of their time spent here was… alone. There’s something very different about being in this house – with him – while a little girl sleeps peacefully right down the hall. It feels… odd. Almost intrusive.

“Hey,” he says, his soft voice pulling her from her thoughts as he steps past her and into the kitchen. “She is out,” he mutters, reaching into the fridge and grabbing a couple of just restocked beers.

“Oh,” she starts, a hint of surprise to her voice as she accepts the bottle offered. “Yeah, well, I guess the aquarium can be… tiring.” She clears her throat, eyes remaining trained on the unopened beer in her hand.

He cocks his head at her, brows pulling together into a curious expression. “You okay?”

Her gaze flies up to meet his. “Yeah,” she sputters out, a bit too fast to be genuine.

He raises a brow. “You sure?”

She shakes her head lazily and lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a good time.”

He laughs – a smooth, languid chuckle that sets his face to beam – and takes a long pull of his beer. “I had a good time,” he says then, connecting his bright blue eyes with hers. “The otters were fun.”

A short giggle spills easily out of her, putting her a bit more at ease. “The monkeys of the sea,” she muses, thinking back to Lana’s excitement as she watched the playful creatures wrestle with one another, tossing their food back and forth.

Bucky nods and reaches out for her hand, her fingers still tightly gripping the sweating bottle. He peels them effortlessly away before tugging and folding her hand up into his. “Got to spend the day with my two favorite girls,” he mutters softly, voice low, a bit hesitant.

He watches as the corners of her lips slowly pull and rise, setting off those glorious dimples, each one buried amid a newly bright blush. “I’m one of your favorite girls?” she asks, eyes arcing away from his piercing gaze, shifting shyly down to the countertop between them.

He drops her hand and reaches up to her face, delicately running the backs of his knuckles along her cheek, the strong line of her jaw. She looks up just in time to see him lean over the counter, shifting heavily towards her. His fingers casually weave back into her hair, tugging strands loose from the partially collapsed ponytail. His palm flattens at the nape of her neck, pressing her forward, pulling her to him.

The kiss is long and languid… tender and deep. Nothing like the few, nervous and hurried pecks they’ve shared over the past few weeks… the break the ice kind of kisses that gave each of them the smallest taste of the other, but smacked more of analyzing, investigating, rather than playing or actually enjoying.

This… this is different. This feels… real. It feels… right.

Annie’s toes curl in her sneakers as she leans further over the breakfast bar, further into him. Bucky’s insides flex and firm as his other hand reaches up and wraps around her bicep, tugging her nearer. He splits her lips open with his tongue, spilling hot breath and a world of promises into her. And she does the same for him, nearly crawling atop the counter to get closer, letting out the smallest, sweetest moan of delight the moment they finally break for air.

“I…” she mutters softly, trailing off when his lips connect with hers once again. They’re both grinning like idiots when they split, his tongue just peeking out and tracing along his bottom lip as he watches her blush deepen. “I should go,” she breathes out amid a sweet, soft smile.

He says nothing, merely stares into her eyes, the deep blue of his irises darkening with desire. It’s too much, quite frankly… his stare. His even, steady gaze. The light crinkles at the corners of his eyes. The slight parting of his lips and trace of his tongue.

She pulls in a steeling breath, lets it out in a nervous laugh as her gaze ticks anxiously away. “I shouldn’t… I mean… with Lana here…”

He pulls himself slowly upright, elbows off the counter, and steps around to come to her side. “Yeah,” he mutters blankly, reaching up to tuck a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. He leans in close, breath hot on her ear as he whispers to her, “Okay,” before planting a chaste – if lingering – kiss to her still-flushed cheek.

“Okay?” she nearly laughs out, pulling back and raising an incredulous brow.

He nods, crooked, cocky smirk splaying across his face. “Okay,” he repeats. “You’re right.”

“Well, I do like hearing that,” she says lightheartedly, the quip quickly fluttering from his mind the moment she nervously pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.

He reaches out and runs his thumb across that lip, causing it to gently pop loose with a small, wet snap. “Wednesday,” he says, barely a breath, the word nearly lost between them as he leans in and presses his mouth to hers once again. Their teeth click together as his tongue hungrily darts around, exploring and tasting and relishing the feel of her.

Another slight moan pulls from somewhere deep, deep down inside of her, spills out into Bucky’s eager mouth, causing his lips to twist into a grin that she feels tug her own alongside. His left hand reaches up to cradle her face as the right continues to linger in place, thumb now swiping lazily along her jaw. And slowly, slowly they part.

“Lana goes back to her mom’s on Wednesday,” he mutters, dropping his forehead to hers.

She smiles wide, her beautiful, deep dimples pressing into his thumbs as he spreads his hands along her cheeks, her jaw. “’Kay,” she emits in an easy breath before pressing her lips back to his for a fleeting moment more. Her hands wrap around his wrists and give a little tug, have to or else – she’s certain – he won’t ever let go. “Wednesday.”

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x oc #bucky barnes fanfic #LDAMC #bucky imagine #marvelau #marvel fanfic #avengers fanfiction #avengersau #Bucky Barnes

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faireekira · 5 years ago

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highlights from Flames of the Dark Crystal (the fourth and final book of the series):

there’s always a quote from the original film or some other dark crystal piece of media in the beginning, and the quote for this book was “we may meet in another life, but not again in this one” :(

immediately not a good sign like im not even on chapter 1 yet

the Vapra are known for being good fliers (with their wings not like as pilots)

the Swamp of Sog is green and turquoise as well as purple and gold

Amri crouches so much that normally he looks shorter than Naia, but he’s actually taller than her

a skeksis says “The Skeksis will ruin the Gelfling so utterly, your descendants won’t know the names of the seven clans!” which ends up being true ouch

Naia chokes the hell out of a skeksis

Gurjin also has healing powers

Grottans have sharp teeth

skekSa’s ship is named Vassa

urSan the Swimmer (skekSa’s counterpart) has indigo hair with silver streaks

urSu the Master Mystic (and later on Jen’s caretaker) explains the history of the skeksis and mystics

his bowl full of green water, as seen in the film, also makes an appearance.

urSu states that it has been nearly 2,000 trine since the appearance of the urSkeks, so Jen will likely be born soon

apparently the urSkeks were kicked off of their home planet because they wanted more out of life

it’s specifically stated that the crystal itself rejected all of the urSkeks when they tried to return home the first time, which is kinda different from the reason stated in Creation Myths

skekSo seems to be the only skeksis that remembers being an urSkek

Naia is really just ready to kill at a moments notice

honestly it’s possible that she’s even more fierce than Maudra Fara which is saying something

normally the third and smallest sun moves quickly and barely appears in the sky, but when another conjunction is about to happen, the sun is slower and stays in the sky much longer

Naia’s relationship with urVa the Archer is similar to Jen’s relationship with his master

urVa says that the resistance is not about war, it’s about acknowledging that thra is sick and needs to be healed, then finding a way to heal it

the Mystic Valley is very close to Sami Thicket and Stone-in-the-Wood, so if Jen is confirmed to be Spriton or Stonewood (or both), then urSan was not far from him and was not just randomly wandering around until he found baby Jen

Naia sees both Tavra and Onica as older sisters

Tavra tells Naia that she’s extremely proud of her

a background Spriton has blue locs and green wings

the trees in Sami Thicket are green and brown

Kylan believes that Maudra Mera and the rest of his clan didn’t care about him when he lived there

Maudra Mera is short and wiry, and is also sixty-four

she’s older than Laesid

Mera’s extreme loyalty to the skeksis was to ensure that nothing happened to her clan; she fully believed that they were draining gelfling but believed that loyalty was the only way to survive

after Seladon’s crowning, Maudra Fara took all of her Stonewood warriors directly to the castle to fight. They ended up retreating back to their village, but the skeksis persued and killed or captured all of them

the skeksis also intended to kill every last Stonewood - there’s no implication that Jen was in the village

landstriders are used in battle at the castle and are sometimes given armor, including leg armor

Naia sees that Gurjin has changed a lot since he became a castle guard (not negative change, just more cautious)

the Drenchen and Spriton are longtime rivals, which is weird cuz they mostly have nothing to do with each other but anyways

basically every clan has a problem with at least one other clan, except maybe the Sifa

Maudra Mera sleeps with braids in, idk how common that is

Amri is very stealthy

Gurjin’s eyes are gray-blue

Gurjin and Naia have a “dreamfast link” where they can talk to each other without touching, but only at a certain distance

gelfling warriors with wings have lighter armor/weapons for aerial attacks, but since Drenchen wings are better for swimming, all Drenchen wear the same armor

Maudra Laesid can ride on her pet muski (giant eel) and its name is Chapyora

Laesid is tall and has locs as well as deep green skin

the Drenchen (and maybe other clans) have a special maudra cloak that’s shaped like Drenchen wings

gelfling can still communicate through special fires

Laesid says that Kylan and Amri are handsome ohmygod

Grottans tend to wear darker clothes and capes

Amri is kinda beefed???????

the Great Smerth in Sog has a great hall with carvings of the various creatures that live there

Naia’s youngest sister’s wings are a kind of transparent green

basically what i’ve gotten from these books is that gelfling wings can come in a variety of styles, and their colors tend to compliment their owner’s appearance

Naia’s middle sister also has healing powers

Naia’s father has beard locs

the urSkeks likely had a large influence on thra

the crystal only started to feed off of essence when it was fully corrupted and “empty”

Amri smells like candlewax and stone

skekSa the Mariner fears the Emperor which is bad because she’s scary as hell

some crazy stuff happens with skekSa, i’ll say that. it’s really kinda unbelievable

when you dreamfast with one skeksis/mystic, you dreamfast with their other half too

Gurjin believes that Naia should be All-Maudra

when Drenchen are grieving for a loved one who’s passed away, they remove any decorations from their locs like beads or ribbons

Naia’s new nickname is “Blue Flame Naia”, and it was given to her by Gurjin

Drenchen armor is made out of fish scales and crab shells

the landstriders are depicted as being way larger than they were in the film, able to hold 2 gelfing comfortably

the maudras do this thing where they put their palms on another maudra’s forehead if she needs comforting. this is the only time i’ve ever read of any gelfling doing that

it’s said that Aughra became distant from the gelfling because they stopped asking her for help; i said this in a previous post but Aughra has been awake this whole time

Maudra Fara is described as being like a stone pillar

Deet shows up towards the end and she’s just hanging out with Rian

she and Amri interact, but there’s no scene of them seeing each other for the first time in awhile, they just start talking

Rian still communicates through the blue fires

the dual glade has a golden hilt and it starts singing when he says his speech

the Emperor’s voice is like black smoke

before they even knew of the prophecy, the skeksis were fully prepared to kill all gelfling

Deet still makes her smoke bombs

she was really shoehorned at the end to tie in with aor (im guessing)

the Emperor is capable of using all four of his hands

the Battle of Stone-in-the-Wood goes differently; they tricked all the skeksis into believing that only Rian was there, and then jumped them once they were caught off guard

Maudras Mera and Fara lead the aerial attacks

Rian fights the Emperor himself, and then fights skekMal

his sword ends up being broken

Maudra Fara still dies, but she spends her last moments attacking the Emperor and defending Naia which is so metal

the final battle with Naia is sooooooooooooooooooooo good yall its amazing

NAIA is amazing like what

urVa the Archer still sacrifices himself but it’s way sadder

the crystal shard is still lodged in Rian’s sword

it’s 100% implied that the ruins Jen and Kira see later are in what was once Stone-in-the-Wood, specifically Maudra Fara’s meeting chamber; the prophecy etchings were carved by Thra itself

that might have been obvious but nothing happens in aor season 1 to prove it

Seladon makes a small appearance, and admits that she sided with the skeksis in fear of what they would do to the Vapra, not solely out of loyalty

she also acknowledges that the All-Maudra crown was created to divide the gelfling

Amri braids a landstrider’s hair with ribbons. idk if that’s significant but i want to remember that

Gurjin calls Rian a fizzgig

after the battle at Stone-in-the-Wood, the gelfling all agree that they should stay away from the area surrounding the castle and either go way north (to Ha’rar) or way south (to Smerth).

Kylan, Onica, and Tavra stay behind to decipher the prophecy etchings

Rian and Gurjin plan on going to the castle to heal the crystal

Amri goes with Naia to Smerth

the book has no clear ending, it’s supposed to be the last one though

#the books #finished!#this one was kinda nuts ngl

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imperfekti · 5 years ago

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Tenipuri Party: Tezuka Kunimitsu profile translation

TN:

In the absence of an official English version, this translation is intended to help those who can’t read the material in the original language. Please support Tenipuri by getting your own copy of this book - it is worth it! There are various ways of purchasing it even for those not living in or visiting Japan.

The pictures I have included in this post do not show full pages.

On the translation: this time I’m aiming for a more direct, “Japanese-sounding” translation to share the mood of the content more as it is. This will probably cause some sentences to appear weird in English.

On Tezuka’s style of speech: his word choices and sentence structures are mostly polite and serious.

I’m still working on Japanese, so there might be mistakes. Please let me know if you spot any translation errors so I can fix them here!

Tezuka Kunimitsu

U-17 German representative player Seishun Gakuen Middle-school player

Beyond the imagined future - the released challenger!!

Message

“For the support every day, I’m grateful. For the sake of becoming a professional, and for the sake of my tennis, I intend to earnestly keep confronting myself. I think you are the same. In the future as well, together. Let’s go without carelessness.”

Extra prize: A voucher for two at a high-class mountaintop hotel “An undeserved honor. I’m focusing on tennis right now, but… If I can make the time, I will gratefully use it. For two, huh…”

Profile

[DATA] Middle-school 3rd year / October 7th (Libra) / Blood type O / 179 cm / 58 → 61 kg / Left-handed

Special techniques: Drop shot, zero shiki drop shot, Muga no kyouchi, Hyakuren jitoku no kiwami, Saiki kanpatsu no kiwami, Tenimuhou no kiwami, Tezuka zone, Tezuka phantom, Zero shiki serve

Playstyle: All-rounder

Family: Grandfather, father, mother

Father’s occupation: company employee (business) (grandfather is a judo instructor for the police)

Hobbies: Mountain climbing, camping, fishing

Favourite saying: The enemy is within yourself

Favourite color: Green or blue

Favourite food: unacha (a dish with eel carefully broiled in soy-based sauce), Räucheraal (TN: smoked eel)

Favourite book: German-Japanese-German dictionary (to carry with him)

Favourite music: Classical (Beethoven)

Preferred type of person: Trying not to think about it at the moment.

Preferred date spot: Zugspitze

Most wanted item: A mountain model kit

Things he’s bad at/with: Being idle, colourful cakes

Elementary school: Seishun Dai Daiichi Elementary School

Committee: Student council president

Strong subjects: World history

Weak subjects: None

Often visited place in school: The library

Uses allowance on: Books

Skill outside tennis: Woodworking, preparing fish for cooking

Routine during tournament: Keeping a diary in German, watching foreign comedy-dramas.

Favourite anniversary: 23rd August

Preferred travel destination: Macchu Picchu ruins and Huayna Picchu

Present for a special person: Writing a letter of gratitude

Scenes

Injuries, seizing the nationals… Tezuka Kunimitsu overcame numerous challenges that waited for him and seized glory. But he is not a man who would be satisfied with that. From now on too, I want to pay attention to the steep path of him who moved over to Germany.

(Quotes on pictures:)

“I will not lose.”

“Saiki kanpatsu no kiwami!?”

“And then Seigaku’s era will begin once again!”

“Now, let’s go without carelessness.”

Indeed, it should perhaps be called a “Tezuka zone”.

“Hyakuren jitoku no kiwami!?”

This boy’s tennis is certainly Ten’imuhou no kiwami!?

“No matter who I will end up fighting… I will win!”

The German representatives’ strained atmosphere connects to rapid development (*1)

Tezuka-senshu (*2) becoming a German representative was a shock. Did you not have worries about this decision?

If I said no, it would be a lie. However, as to what is important for me as someone aiming to become a professional, I judged it to be fighting as a German representative and based my decision on that.

Specifically, the currently important thing for Tezuka-senshu is…?

Most of all, it is actual experience of fighting at a higher level. At the German training centre, I have the fortunate chance to rally with top pros like Volk-senshu. Even in practice, they are always making hypotheses as to which shot they should hit, what kind of a play they should make in any kind of match circumstances when they are standing on the court. Having put myself in such a strained atmosphere, I can truly feel my level of experience rising rapidly.

Any bewilderment at facing your former comrades…?

Whoever will become my opponent will not be a problem. But, at first, I thought I was feeling sorry. However, at the time of fighting Japan in the exhibition match, I came to realise my heart was throbbing about competing against them. But just fighting as sworn friends, it is not to elevate ourselves. Rather, by putting a net in-between and confronting each other, the light can come from a new angle and hasten growth - that is what I believe right now.

Then, what is Tezuka-senshu’s current objective or dream?

Upon seizing the world, to hold up the flag of Germany that showed in me, a foreigner. If the opponent for that match were to be Japan, there would not be higher joy.

In a well-ordered and non-negligent environment, pleasant days go on

Have you already grown accustomed to life in Germany?

Yes. Everything proceeds very systematically, so in that sense, it sometimes feels like it is actually even more pleasant than in Japan.

What things for example are like that?

Everyone is already gathered around 15 minutes before the set meeting time. The notion of ecology is growing, so most customers carry eco bags for their shopping, and the separation of waste is enforced thoroughly. Everything is done logically, and it’s an environment without negligence.

I see. It suits the serious Tezuka-senshu perfectly. Then, how do you spend your days off?

Touring antiquarian bookshops is currently my biggest enjoyment. From Goethe to Ende, I have been able to acquire several original texts that I couldn’t in Japan. Also, when time and money allow, I try to go to classical concerts.

What about the German language?

The German language too is a very systematic and logical language. There are very few exceptions, as long as one memorises the basic grammar and idioms, it is quite effective to use. Of course I still lack study, and there are many points where I lack experience, but words are not the only means of communication. Rather, sometimes it is facial expressions that speak more eloquently.

Facial expressions…?

Yes. Facial expressions.

Message for Tezuka Kunimitsu

As expected… should I say. Congratulations. (Inui)

YEEES! CONGRATULATIONS!! (Kawamura)

You should still be able to grow one rank higher. Put effort into your training. (Volk)

I will definitely not forget the thing that you taught me. Let’s meet on the court. (Fuji)

I’m glad you seem to be doing well in Germany too. Eat your meals properly! (Ooishi)

Tezuka-buchou-senpai, congratulations. We are protecting Seigaku. (Kaidou)

I’ll win one day, both in popularity and tennis! (Momoshiro)

You’re not planning on ending it at this? I’m waiting for the next opportunity to fight you. (Atobe)

Congratulatioons. But I’ll overcome you soon. (Echizen)

Are you doing well Tezuka? Send something tasty from Germany! (Kikumaru)

This guy is in 4th place!? Gimme a break! You can go higher than that! (Siegfried)

Party talk

Q: Who would you like to inform about this time’s rank and feelings? A: My family. My grandfather too is always supporting me.

Q: You are being served a lot of food. A: Ooishi. I’m grateful, but it’s already enough. I’m eating sufficiently… I tasted Japanese unacha for the first time in a while.

Q: You can also take part in an improvisation skit competition. A: … No, thank you. I was able to enjoy it quite a lot just by watching.

Q: You got excited with Bismarck-san, though... A: … I was merely unilaterally lectured about how to flirt with women.

Q: Who did you come to the venue with today? A: With the German representative senpai. In addition to training, we measured the time and ran to the venue.

Q: Oh? Is there something the matter with Echizen-kun? A: No. I just thought he seems to have gained experience and grown somewhat.

History

Age 0 October 7 Birth

Age 5 Makes a mistake in dance moves in a kindergarten’s play

Age 10 June Climbs Switzerland's Matterhorn with his father

Age 11 Summer Meets Yukimura and Sanada after the Jr. Tournament, has a match Goes fishing with grandfather, catches a sea bream

Age 12 March Graduates from Seishun Dai Daiichi Elementary School

April Enters Seishun Gakuen Middle School Is hit on the elbow with a racket by a senpai in the tennis club Is told to become "Seigaku's pillar of support" by Yamato

Age 13 November Displays a sketch of mountain grass in the culture festival

January Goes to the first shrine visit of New Year with the club’s 1st year members, makes a vow of conquering the nationals

April Becomes a 2nd year Becomes the vice captain of the tennis club

June Participates in a bread eating race in an athletic festivals, places second

September Gets lots of recommendation letters and becomes the student council president

Age 14 Declines the Jr. Senbatsu invitation Around autumn Has an uncomfortable feeling in his arm

October On the field trip (Taiwan), buys tea utensils for souvenirs

November At the Allied music festival (*3) , participates in the class chorus as a musical conductor

February For the first time in his life, forgets something

April Becomes a 3rd year Becomes the captain of the tennis club

May Wins Tokyo preliminaries championship Is mistaken for a teacher at Kawamura Sushi Has a match with Ryoma on courts underneath the railway

June Wins prefecturals championship Declines offer from the special overseas JFH program Goes to the drawings for the Kantou tournament

July Is invited to Hyoutei’s opera appreciation party as the student council president but declines Start of Kantou tournament In the first round against Hyoutei, loses to Atobe in S1 Goes to Kyuushuu for rehabilitation

July 27 Wins Kantou tournament championship

August 14 Drawing for the nationals, returns from Kyuushuu

August 17 Start of nationals Faces Higa in the 2nd round, wins against Kite in S1

August 19 Quarterfinals against Hyoutei, wins against Kabaji in S2 Semifinals against Shitenhouji, wins against the Chitose-Zaizen pair in D2 Yakiniku battle, is one of the last members remaining

August 23 Finals against Rikkai, loses to Sanada in S3 Wins nationals championship Goes to the victory celebration at Kawamura Sushi

Age 15 (*4) September Is invited to Rikkai’s ocean festival, makes guest participation in a play

October 12 Climbs Kitadake with father

November Participates in U-17 camp Wins against Kaidou in the “friendly fire” matches Learns about a fishing mobile game from Marui and Kirihara In the court shuffle between 3rd and 5th court, wins against Yamato Abandons the match against Fuji midway, departs for Germany Aiming to become professional, participates in the German representative team

December Participates in the U-17 Pre-World Cup drawings U-17 Pre-World Cup starts In Vs Japan, wins against Irie-Atobe pair in the second match U-17 World Cup starts Is drawn into a fight about food by Siegfried, eats Japanese food together Wins against South Africa and Canada

Plan

(Pictured: two documents of mountain climbing plans, including itinerary, packing list and map.)

“This is from when me and father climbed during consecutive holidays. When climbing mountains, let’s make plans properly and climb without carelessness.”

Fashion

It seems he didn’t bring much clothing with him from Japan. I will give you something next time. (Volk)

With Kunimitsu’s hair style, clothes from any country would suit him. (QP)

Wearing clothes you received just like that. That’s like you. (Fuji)

Whether the person in question is aware of it or not, wearing a waistcloth is quite stylish. (Kite)

“I am not a person who is particular about clothes, but only when it comes to shoes, I make it so that I can play tennis in them.”

Room

Bedroom of the room I’m staying in in Germany There’s only bare minimums like the bed and desk that were part of the furnishings. But I’m thankful that letters and daily necessities have been delivered from Japan. Overall, I like the things made from wood and seeing the townscape from the window.

TN:

*1 張り詰めた, haritsumeta. Strained, stretched, tense. Not strained in the sense of anxious or having problems. It seems more like everyone is ambitious and focused.

*2 選手, senshu: player, athlete. I chose to leave this as it is since the interviewer uses it all the time as an honorific, and couldn’t figure out a natural expression in English.

*3 連合音楽会, rengou ongaku kai. This seems to be some kind of an annual music event that at least schools participate into.

*4 It seems like a mistake that age 15 is placed at September, not October.

#my translation #tezuka kunimitsu #prince of tennis #new prince of tennis #seigaku #fuji shuusuke #otp #my captain

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