#sailor moon water pipe

[shopcrescentmoods]

Sailor Moon Custom Bong / Waterpipe 💕⭐️✨DM on instagram @ shopcrescentmoodss for your own! ⭐️

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

SET FIFTEEN - ROUND ONE - MATCH THREE

Excerpt from illustrated edition of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (1972 - Errol Le Cain) / "La Mort de Marat (The Death of Marat)" (1793 - Jacques-Louis David)

EXCERPT FROM ILLUSTRATED EDITION OF THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER: This image is representative of all of part 4 of the poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, and is a part of a larger illustrated edition. However, I absolutely adore this piece on its own. Yes, it has the elements from the poem, but it adds so much mysticism to that section. I love the colors, the darkness and the blue with the splashes of color, and the albatross standing out, almost separate from the piece, in its blocky triangle with the red blood-like strings moving to the woman. I love how the ring of circles look like the phases of the moon, and gives me a sense of time passing, even with how immediate (i guess?) the albatross and the woman's interaction feels. Also, the ship becomes a ship of the dead, with the rotted sails and the hull of the dead crew. And then back at the center of it all is the Albatross. It also is just very 70s to me, and feels a little nostalgic, like an old fantasy novel cover or something. Its great on its own, and as an illustration of a poem, it picks up on the literal and the metaphors and themes of the epic. It just delights me. I would definitely recommend the poem, its a great epic about a stranded sailor and his doomed ship.

Something I just realized, writing this, is that there is no narrator visible, which I love. The poem is in first person, and I think that translates to this image. Obviously the reader is not the mariner, but there is a closeness that occurs with that tense. Same with this, the viewer is not on the ship, but outside of it, but we are viewing the scene from almost "over" the albatross, making that our focal point, and the albatross is what draws us into the rest of the scene. I love it.

(Sorry for the weird crop, I was trying to even out the curl from the page.)

Also, here are a few stanzas from part IV, (easily placed to be deleteable lol), for fun.

Alone, alone, all, all alone, / Alone on a wide wide sea! / And never a saint took pity on / My soul in agony.

The many men, so beautiful! / And they all dead did lie: / And a thousand thousand slimy things / Lived on; and so did I.

I looked upon the rotting sea, / And drew my eyes away; / I looked upon the rotting deck, / And there the dead men lay. ...

Beyond the shadow of the ship, / I watched the water-snakes: / They moved in tracks of shining white, / And when they reared, the elfish light / Fell off in hoary flakes.

And I blessed them unaware. / The self-same moment I could pray; / And from my neck so free / The Albatross fell off, and sank / Like lead into the sea. (@travelingsmithy)

LA MORT DE MARAT (THE DEATH OF MARAT): The first time I saw it was in a history textbook in junior high and when the teacher wasn't looking I tore the page out and used it as a bookmark in my diary for years. It looks the way pipe organ music feels. I want to fold it up and put it in my chest. (@ambientcrows)

(This is an illustration from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner book by Samuel Taylor Coleridge published in 1972 by The Arcadia Press, London. The illustration was done by Errol Le Cain. Only 100 copies of the book were printed.

"La Mort de Marat (The Death of Marat)" is an oil on canvas painting by Jacques-Louis David. It measures 162 cm × 128 cm (64 in × 50 in) and is held by the Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium. A replica, done by the artist's studio, is also on display at the Louvre.)

[somethingclevermahogony]

Find Four Lines

Thanks for the tag @kaylinalexanderbooks!

Rules: find four lines in your WIP that match the prompts, then change ONE prompt for the next people!

Once again I am completely ignoring the "line" part of this haha

a line about music

As the beer flowed music was played, the sound of ethereal drums and harps which neither Narul nor Ninma could see. Unseen lips and fingers blew pipes and clapped. The spirits danced and spun and cried out to the stars and the moon above. Narul and Ninma joined in, emboldened by full bellies and strong beer. They danced and sang many a song, songs of kings and gods, of demigods and dragons. When Narul pounded his feet the trees shook and the birds took flight. Ninma leapt and twirled, her golden circlet sparkling in the firelight. She could see strange people watching from the shadows, folk with horns and skin like moss. They watched in silence, judging, but Ninma did not care, she danced, sang, laughed, roared, screamed, and cried without care or shame.

a line about pain

A beast stalked the hills and cliffs which overlooked the valley. It crawled across the earth, its rot and malfeasance scattered the lesser creatures before him, sent the birds to, and the lizards to their holes. He had shed his skin of skin of bronze already, ripped it and the arrow from his body and had cast them in the dust. He was on the hunt, his sharp-eyes waited desperate for his prey. He gripped his spear in anticipation. Zatur shuddered, breathed in deeply, his body shook, his body screamed out in constant pain.

a line about relationships

Istek grumbled and nodded. He came by the flower tying naturally even with one hand. As the pile of flower ropes and crowns grew in front of him, he told stories about his adventures on the Green Sea, stories of sea monsters, pirate kings, distant lands where the people are made of clay, and most excitedly about meeting Sihunu and Dati. When the old sailor spoke of his loves it was as if some invisible hand smoothed the wrinkles on his face and once more ignited the fire behind his eyes. They had heard these stories before, but Jani listened all the same for the stories would change ever so slightly with each retelling. Ninma continued to knot the stems but between flowers, she would cast glances at Jani, at that small smile of his, the way it made his eyes squint and twinkle. In the short time they had come to know each other she had fallen in love with that smile. Jani noticed her staring.

“Can I help you?” He teased.

a bittersweet line

He felt the cold water, lapping at his skin, his face, his nose, his mouth. He thought about his friends, the adventures he had been on, the life he lived, and those that now awaited him. These thoughts kept the chill at bay, kindling a warmth deep within his chest. The watery world around him faded, darkened, and then all drifted away like a half-forgotten dream.

Tagging @winterandwords, @elizaellwrites, @paeliae-occasionally, @illarian-rambling Your lines will be: a line about food, a line about pain, a line about relationships, and a bittersweet line

[princesscolumbia]

Pride Month 2024 - Day 12

Here she is! The grand matron of all my megafics and projects!

Fission

Summary:

Ranma is having A Day. The usual wacky relationship hijinks wind up with him tripping while running from his self-declared love interests (it has to do with martial arts, several foreign laws, and an okonomiyaki cart...long story) and falling off a roof (...again, long story) to pass through a stream of water from a broken pipe, triggering the magic that cursed him to turn into a girl with a splash of cold water. But today the wacky cranked right up into the weird when he DIDN'T collide with the other person who also happens to be standing in the spray of water. Usagi is having a pleasant day, actually. She's spending time with her boyfriend, taking in parts of Tokyo she doesn't normally get to, and in all enjoying herself when she gets a call about a monster attack. She ducks into an alley and starts to transform into Sailor Moon when a pipe bursts and sprays her with water right as someone...doesn't collide with her falling from the roof above. The destiny of both Ranma and Usagi has been altered by a random accident that nobody could have planned for or anticipated. Nobody around them is even remotely prepared.

Notes:

I originally posted chapter 1 of this fic back in 2006 on Fanfiction.net, so if you recognize it from that website, don't worry, I'm the original creator just migrating it over here where I'm actually posting my fics and updating stuff. FF.net is now my lowest priority for updating, so if you want to follow my work be sure to subscribe here. Original author's notes: I keep writing fics I keep SWEARING I'll never, ever write! But this one just called out to me, darnit!!!

I shall now tell you, dear reader, my favorite story of being inspired to write a fanfic that I've ever experienced, let alone told:

The year is 2005, the Penultimate Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction Index is still being updated, the Ranma 1/2 Superhighway is still going strong, and FFML is your best place to find new fics and earliest possible releases for your favorites because anyone who is anyone in the ENTIRE ANIME COMMUNITY is on FFML.

So on the Ranma 1/2 Superhighway they maintained a nice page that neatly described the different categories of fanfiction, including but not limited to:

Continuation

Divergence

Alternate Universe

Crossover

Fusion

Crackfic

The 'fusion' one may require explanation for people who aren't obsessed with words and meanings because at first glance it looks like a crossover, and is often called such by those who don't know how words work! A crossover does just that, it takes two plotlines, usually from two different media or franchises, then crosses them over each other. The point of contact is where the story takes place.

A fusion, on the other hand, is when you take two entire timelines and mash them together. The vast majority of the time this means whole characters get fused, as well.

And upon reading that, being the super-geeky science nerd that I am, I had the thought, clear as day, "...so what would a fission fic be?"

That was it. That was literally the start of the journey that would launch Fission and bring us all to this point in time.

[sucker-for-steven-with-v]

Sunny Day 3

Sunny Day 1    Sunny Day 4

You and Steven were trapped in the village led by Arthur Harrow, the leader of a dangerous cult. He was charismatic and gentle but his beliefs were disturbing. The people in the village worshipped a goddess named Amit and believed in judging and killing anyone, even children, who they believed may commit wrongs in the future.

As Harrow threatened Steven to join their cult, Steven stood up against him and took you with him. As you and Steven tried to leave, the people of the village surrounded you, but Layla appeared with Scarab. She gave it to Steven and ordered him to suit up.

This was not the place nor the time for them to have an identity crisis. You grabbed Steven and Layla and ran up the stairs and closed the door behind you, blocking it with heavy boxes to prevent the cult members from following. You needed to escape as soon as possible.

"Seriously, this is not the time for an identity crisis or the couple fight. Come on, we need to get out of here now," you said urgently to Layla and Steven. The three of you quickly made your way to the window, where a fire escape ladder was conveniently located. "Let's go down this way," you suggested, letting Layla go first. Steven was hesitant to leave you behind, but you urged him to go ahead of you.

He was stubborn and made you go down first. As you began to descend the ladder, the door to the room suddenly burst open and an unseen creature charged towards Steven. He was thrown out of the window.

"Suit up!!!"

Layla yelled and Steven this time listened to her. He managed to activate his suit and fell down safely. Meanwhile, you and Layla made it to the ground safely. The creature continued to pursue Steven.

As you both climbed down on the ground, Steven was now wearing a white suit with a mask that had a crescent shape on the forehead, resembling a sailor moon. He seemed to be unharmed from the fall. However, the invisible creature attacked him again, crashing him into a nearby car and lifting him up into the air.

Acting quickly, you grabbed anything within reach and threw it at the creature. The water from a bottle revealed the creature's features, as Steven had described before - it had the head of a dog and reminded you of one of Egypt's gods.

You grabbed a long iron pipe from the car parts scattered on the ground and swung it at the creature, causing it to release Steven. Together with Layla, the three of you fought off the creature. But Layla was pushed back into the wall and collapsed, leaving you alone to fend off the creature as it choked you. Despite your efforts to kick and scratch, the creature's strength was too great.

Just as you thought all hope was lost, Steven threw a punch and surprisingly pushed the creature back, releasing you from its grip. Gasping for air, you coughed and glared at the creature.

"You plug-ugly coyote, get away from her. You're on the wrong end, mate. You're in my yard now. Yeah, come on. Come on. That's right. Come on." The creature growled in response.

"Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, my name is Steven with a V."

you thought it is not a good time to say that Steven but Steven was Steven, even in a situation like this.

As you thought he got thrown by the monster and also got hit by a car.

Then, you watched as Steven, now dressed in his mummy-inspired suit and cape.

"Marc?" you called out his name, confused by the sudden change in his appearance.

He turned to you and gave you a reassuring nod. "Wait here, stay with Layla. She will keep you safe." He lured the monster away from you and disappeared into the distance, leaving you with his ex-wife.

After the chaotic two days, you and Layla went to Steven's home in search of clues about his whereabouts. It was then that Layla received news from a close contact that Steven was currently in Cairo.

"He's going to get himself killed running around Cairo," Layla said, with a hint of concern in her voice.

"Why? Does he have enemies there?" you asked.

"Yeah, we made some enemies. Not just one," Layla replied.

Despite the danger, you decided to go with Layla to Cairo. You liked Layla. She was cool and easy-going but also caring. She didn't hold any grudges against Steven or Marc for their divorce and thought it was the best decision for both of them. She loved Marc, but they were very different, and she felt they got along better as friends. But she felt betrayed when he went completely off the grid without telling her anything. That was why she was upset with him.

Though hesitant at first, you ultimately decided to join Layla in Cairo in hopes of preventing Steven from getting hurt and seeing him again.

As Layla walked through the crowded streets of Cairo, she was looking for Marc as she had received a tip that Marc, was in the city and was trying to track down a lead on an illegal digging site where Arthur Harrow, the leader of the cult, was believed to be at.

Soon, she saw Marc being ignored by a local. He was trying to get information on the digging site, but it was clear that the man was ignoring him.

She approached, and called out to him softly, "Looks like you're having a tough time there, Marc."

He turned around and saw her, his expression immediately turning to one of annoyance. "Layla, what are you doing here? I believed you would be keeping Y/N safe."

You stepped forward and said, "Hi, Marc. I was worried about you, and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Marc's expression softened as he looked at you, and he said, "I'm fine, but I'm not having much luck getting information on this digging site. It seems like everyone is too afraid to talk."

Layla put a hand on his arm and said, "Don't worry, we'll figure it out together. We're a team, after all."

"You shouldn't be here, especially with her. This isn't safe"

"You would not get any information from them especially when you are not Egyptian."

Marc, Layla, and you set out on a boat to a place where you can get information on where Harrow was rumoured to be.

The scenery on the river was breathtaking, making it easy to forget about the dangerous mission at hand.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Layla commented, taking in the view.

"Yes, I've never been to Cairo before. Despite the situation we're in, everything here is truly astonishing," you replied.

"Egypt is full of charm," Marc added, moving closer to you.

"So, is Steven alright? Will I be able to speak to him?" you asked, worrying about his safety.

"He's alright, but it's better for me to be the front until it's not dangerous anymore. Y/N, can you wait until this journey ends?" Marc replied, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

"Yeah, sure. I came here to see you and make sure you're safe, so I can wait a bit longer," you said with a smile, but you couldn't shake the sadness of not being able to talk to Steven or hear his cheerful voice. You didn't realize how much you loved Steven until that moment. You travelled across the world to see him and that he is okay.

As you waited for Layla and Marc to gather information about the illegal digging site, Layla secretly handed you a gun for protection. But as you approached the gate, you saw Harrow and his men approaching. Chaos erupted as Layla expertly defended herself while Marc, despite being impaled with poles, fought off the attackers.

You ran toward him shooting the attackers to prevent further attacks towards Marc. To your surprise, you found yourself to be a skilled shooter and helped take down the attackers.

Then Marc grabbed you and protected you with his cape as another wave of bullets flew. Once the shooting stopped, he pulled out the poles and stood up, still holding you close. With his boomerang-like weapon, he eliminated the remaining enemies.

To chase Harrow and stop his crazy plan, you all hopped into the vehicle to go to the desert.

While driving through the desert towards the Ammit's grave, the tension was high as you were all on edge and exhausted.

Marc had to change clothes, his ripped and torn shirt revealing his chiselled chest. You couldn't help but blush as you took in the sight of him. He caught your gaze and gave you a small smile before fully wearing new clothes. The three of you tried to make sense of the map you were given. But, despite your best efforts, you couldn't make heads or tails of it. Frustrated, Marc sighed.

"I can't read this thing," he muttered.

"You need to call Steven, "Layla suggested.

"No, he will not give back the body. Also, how can you be sure that he can read this?"

"He can and he will. He always knew everything about Egyptian history"You backed him up.

As you spoke those words, he hesitated for a moment before finally transforming into Steven. You couldn't help but smile as you saw him again, despite the dangerous situation you were in. He apologized for putting you in danger, but you reassured him that you were just glad to see him again.

With Steven now able to decipher the ancient map, he knew that he had to suit up and call upon Khonshu, his supposed guardian and contracted god, to harness the power of the moon and transport it back to 2000 years ago. The stars and sky shifted and danced at his movement, finally stopping at the precise location they needed to be in order to read the map. But as the task was completed, Steven collapsed, exhausted from the immense power he had just wielded.

[astralix]

  Act 018 Falling Stars

Pretty Guardian ✶ Sailor Moon

Characters: Original Characters, Canon characters-Mentioned Rating: Teen, Older Teen Genre: Angst, Action, Fantasy (Magical Girl) Song: “Sonne” Rammstein

Disclaimer: I do not own Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon.  I only own my version of the Zodiac Senshi, Phoenix, Andromeda and Ophiuchus.

✦✶✦

(One) Here comes the Sun (Two) Here comes the Sun (Three) It is the brightest star of them all. (Four) Here comes the Sun. (Five) Here comes the Sun. (Six) Here comes the Sun. (Seven) It is the brightest star of them all. (Eight)(Nine) Here comes the Sun.

✦✶✦

“We believe in you, always,” she could practically see a phantom figure of Sailor Pisces, or Maiko Enkai, smiling at her.  Her twin sister was likely nearby, but Mei could never hear or see her until today as she saw the phantoms.  Both had identical, light blue hair and matching blue-green eyes.  She saw the place where Mai had died.  Tears pricked her eyes cause she could see the water still imprisoning her enemy and herself in a waterspout.  She could still see it in the distance as she turned her head to look over her shoulder.

Next was the phantom figure of Sailor Aquarius, or Izumi Hoshino, with a stern look on her face.  She narrowed her indigo eyes and regarded the pig-tailed Phoenix Senshi with scathing glare.  “You better not lose. For once I’m betting on you,” she said.  Mei knew better than to pierce through the tough exterior of the teal-haired Senshi.  Mei continued with a smile on her face, but other than this phantasmal figure there was little to no trace left of the Senshi.

“Don’t worry, she’s more than betting on you,” Sailor Scorpio’s voice piped up.  The dark-red haired Senshi gave Mei a grin.  “Go get them.”  Sasori Kishi was a dear friend to her, once one gets past the delinquent exterior.  She had quit smoking too just so she could confess to the Aquarius Senshi.  It was sad, Sasori would never be able to go on a date with Izumi.  All because of Mei.  Mei acknowledged the lack of a trace left from the Scorpio Senshi.  She wondered if they both died together.  

Mei continued to walk.

“We will never let you down, so don’t ever go back on your word,” Sailor Sagittarius’s voice was heard as another stern Senshi crossed her arms over her chest.  The blonde priestess pointed at Mei’s forehead.  A wave of unease overcame Mei before purple sparkles eased her fears and a calm blossomed within Mei’s chest.  It was scary how the Shinto-priest-in-training knew Mei was scared.  Mei wanted to ask where she died, but no words entered her lips.  Instead, she was troubled by the lack of presence of the Sagittarius Senshi.  She had been accompanied by Sailor Leo.

“It’s a shame we’ll never play together again on the same stage,” Sailor Leo grieved.  Mei teared up at her supposed body double.  Hikaru Tategami was another good friend of hers.  They both enjoyed music and Hikaru even got to play a violin solo during one of Mei’s songs.  Both of them ruled the stage and at the same time both Hikaru and Mei were happy their collaboration worked out.  They were excited about future collaborations, but that will never happen again.  Mei was troubled by the lack of presence of Leo Senshi.  She had accompanied Sailor Sagittarius in death.  “Chin up, Mei-chan.  Don’t cry.  We’re always here for you.”

Mei sobbed as she continued her walk.  The spirits of the Senshi summoned a shield as the enemy sent their strongest attacks at their Empress.  Mei thought to look over her shoulder, but Aquarius shouted to her not to and to continue her journey.  Even in death they were always protecting her.  Mei felt so pathetic and useless, but she forced herself to continue no matter the pain.  The stars have fallen for Mei, but even if there was simply darkness, she still had to shine a ray of hope.

“Even if you’re cast in darkness, you still need to be the light of hope,” said a familiar voice.  Mei had to look around to see Madoka Sabik or Sailor Ophiuchus looking at her with a small smile.  “You must not give up, Sailor Phoenix.  You are our sun.  Bring the dawn.”  Mei could not help but smile as well.  “Never regret your time before, there’s always tomorrow.”  Mei balled her gloved hands into fists.  She started to walk with confidence, after thanking Sailor Ophiuchus for everything.  Ophiuchus pointed to Mei’s hand and her Caduceus disappeared and reappeared in Mei’s hand.  Eyes widened, but she understood.  Ophiuchus had always wanted her to use the Caduceus in conjunction with Mei’s power to vanquish the darkness.

Mei kept walking, holding the Caduceus in both hands as she looked over at Sailor Libra or Yuuga Fujiwara.  Mei tried to understand the Libra Senshi, but it seemed Yuuga was in another world.  She wondered if there were any words Yuuga could tell her.  “Justice won’t act on its own, you are needed,” Yuuga said cryptically.  “I better not have sacrificed myself in vain, Phoenix.”  Mei nodded.  She looked at the Caduceus Staff in her hands.

“You haven’t,” Mei said with a small smile.  It earned her a rare smile from the Libra Senshi.  She continued onward.

“Our wishes for peace are with you,” Sailor Virgo spoke up and smiled at Sailor Phoenix.  Sailor Phoenix smiled back.  The phantom outstretched her hand and bound an enemy with a briarwood vine.  The thorns cut into him.  Mei wanted to cry again because Virgo had used her own flowers on herself to kill the enemy’s henchman.  It was far in the distance, but she knew where Virgo’s body rested.  She wished she did not have to go to such lengths, but Virgo, or Emiko Teien was always a fighter.  Mei thanked her, and continued her journey towards her final destination.

The final five joined her around the circle.  They were specters too, but she recognized each of them as Sailors Cancer, Didymos, Gemini, Taurus and Aries.  Sailor Cancer brought the cold air and Sailor Phoenix could swear her tears were freezing on her eyelashes.  The petite Senshi had killed another henchman while encasing herself in ice.  Sailor Gemini and Didymos brought the winds, and Sailor Phoenix tried to keep from getting swept away.  The Gemini Senshi sisters have died together and their bodies cast aside.  Sailor Taurus brought the fresh earth smell and sweet scented flower petals.  She had died while standing up to a henchman.  Sailor Aries had the oddest power of them all.  The power over war and brutality of war in the form of blood.  She had bled out in order to defeat a henchman.  All of them smiled sadly at Sailor Phoenix.  Sailor Phoenix smiled at them back.

“Thank you for always protecting me,” Phoenix said, bringing her Caduceus to her forehead.  “It’s time we end this, as falling stars.”  She held up the Caduceus Staff and started praying.  An orb of multi-colored light surrounded the group and expanded over the land.

“In exchange for my life, I pray for the dawn.  Phoenix Crystal Power, make up!”  Phoenix’s words rang out as the light reached all around the globe.

[scots-gallivanter]

FOUR

The moon shone broad and bright upon the placid face of the Solway Firth, and showed a slight ripple upon the stakes, the tops of which were just visible above the waves.

SIR WALTER SCOTT, Redgauntlet (1824)

THE CLOCKS WENT forward today but there’d hardly be enough blue in the world to darn a sailor’s hanky. My ears, exposed after an out-of-season haircut, are red as hen’s heads as Nikki and I take in the windswept mudflats which Robert Burns called ‘this wild place of the world’. A heron pecks patina into flotsam; tuxedoed oystercatchers hurtle along the mud with their lame men’s gaits and then moan into a monochrome sky. To hoodwink their prey, plovers tap-dance on the beach pretending to be raindrops.

Three boys in shell suits stand around an observation viewer. ‘Quality’, offers the tallest of the trio, after discovering it isn’t coin-operated. He squints through it to England. ‘What the Butler saw’, I joke, ‘That’s where Edward the First cursed us before breathing his last.’ The three boys dander off, perplexed about butlers; an oyster-catcher pipes past, and a flock of timid redshanks retreats past the Altar Stane, more often than not under water, which has bounded the burgh of Annan since 1539.

Before they moved to Lochmaben Robert the Bruce’s ancestors had a castle at Annan, and a running track and park now sit beneath its tree-colonised motte. A stone from the castle, with an inscription related to the Bruces, was somehow acquired by an Annan antiquarian, who took it with him when he moved to Devon. It was returned in 1927 and is now incorporated within the town hall. There is a story that Archbishop, later Saint, Malachy put a curse on Annan. When he had dined with Bruce at the castle, Bruce had promised to spare the life of a condemned man. However, he reneged on the deal – with the result that a vampire allegedly ran loose in the town in which Thomas Carlyle later went to school.

Chop all the wood from boats that sailed in the Solway Firth, and Bonfire Night could be celebrated the length and breadth of Scotland until they launch the first zebra into space. Horn-helmeted raiders, Roman warriors, English incursors, pirates, kings, folk heroes, brigands, smugglers, and lovers. They all came and went with swords, fire, trade, romance or murder. Hadrian put his ‘Roman wall’ up at Bowness-on-Solway on the shoulder of England, a mile from where we stand – across a wath that was used by interlopers for centuries. That wath or ford can be walked when the tide is out, but you’d better know the currents intimately or you’ll be struggling in quicksand before your brain can contemplate the meaning of M’ Aidez.

From Cumberland’s tussocks – an official Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty since 1964 –trains used to smoke their way across the sea on the longest bridge in Europe. We gaze at England from a lichened mound of concrete and mudstone with mini-ferns curling out of Scotland like croziers. Behind us the trains passed through a cutting that has doubled for decades as a way for dog walkers undeterred by the pipeline running bang down the middle, through which Chapelcross Nuclear Power Station discharged its shit into the sea.

It’s March 2023. The first sod for the Solway Viaduct from Bowness-on-Solway to Annan was cut here 158 years ago today in a ceremony that featured ‘four navvies in smock frocks, red neckcloths, and white nightcaps ...... a mahogany barrow with the silver spade on their shoulders’. A cannon was fired, prayers were said, and big wigs sat in a decorated pavilion for their déjeuner à la forchette, and much speechifying and backslapping.

The idea for a viaduct had originated in 1830 in an anonymous pamphlet but The Cumberland Pacquet and Ware’s Advertiser called it ‘sublime, utopian, stupendous and bordering on certain of the Munchausen achievements’.

It took three years to build, but in 1881 ice floes wrecked it. It was repaired but it never quite recovered and was shut down in 1921. Notices went up to keep people off the bridge; however, thirsty Scots made their way across on Sundays to take advantage of more liberal English licensing laws, and there were cross-border romances for which the viaduct wasn’t a bridge too far. It was dismantled in 1935, and the scrap was recycled for armaments in Japan for its war with China. A signal box allegedly ended up being used as a garden shed.

What remains of a rusty tanker sits deck-deep in silt now behind an old warehouse that once rung with the sound of shipbuilders’ mallets. A local group pulled it out of view in 2020 with cash collected from flogging scrap bikes and shopping trolleys. Thousands of people once thronged the pier at Annan, an important shipbuilding port, whence steamers took folk to new worlds. A wooden lighthouse stood at Barnkirk point but it burned to the shore in 1975. Today a scarfed pensioner wheezes along the quay with smoky breath; and a subdued mongrel, oblivious of history, looks just as disconsolate.

Shawhill railway station, built on the verge of Annan for the viaduct traffic, is now a scrapyard. Back on the foreshore cinder path a decapitated man stands on a plinth – a bone of contention between his maker (who welds together bits of scrap and exhibits them) and others in the community, whom he regularly lambasts on his social media page. Metal Man began life in 2009 on a roundabout at the Tesco store in town, but he was beheaded in 2019. Since then, he has had a traffic cone for a head, then a football, a parrot’s head and a pig’s head. A month ago, a prankster sawed the statue’s haaf-net and fish off. Goodness knows how he ended up on the shore here where for generations real haaf-netters have battled the currents and tides.

Old Annanites speak of haaf-netting in reverential tones: it has been pursued since Viking times and is enshrined in royal charters. A haaf-net resembles a portable football goalmouth with a rectangular frame and three legs. The top beam of the frame is 18 feet long, the length of the oar of a longboat; when a fish swims into the net the frame’s legs float to the surface and the fish is netted and clobbered on the head with a nep, a priest or a killer. Well, that is what used to happen, but legislation introduced in 2016 bans the killing of salmon, and fewer and fewer men feel like paying the near £40 annual licence fee when they cannot take a single fish home. The tradition is certain to die out.

Leistering was another unusual form of fishing practised by the men of the Solway. A leister was a four-pronged, twenty-foot-long javelin, which killed fish in huge quantities. Richard Franck, a Cromwellian trooper, was the first person to report on Scotland’s salmon-fishing. The Cambridge-educated sea captain travelled through Carlisle, Dumfries, Glasgow, Stirling, Perth, Forfar, Loch Ness; Sutherland, Caithness, Cromarty, Aberdeen, Dundee, St. Andrews, Edinburgh, and Berwick.

Franck saw the mounted men of the firth galloping along the shallows spearing salmon (Northern Memoirs, 1694). Sir Walter Scott also gave leistering a mention. In Redgauntlet, Darsie Latimer wrote to Alan Fairford, of the day he was rescued from straying into the Solway quicksands: ‘...they chased the fish at full gallop, and struck them with their barbed spears, as you see hunters spearing boars in the old tapestry. The salmon, to be sure, take the thing more quietly than the boars; but they are so swift in their own element, that to pursue and strike them is the task of a good horseman, with a quick eye, a determined hand, and full command both of his horse and weapon.’ Latimer lingered on the sands and looked to the English shore that was ‘still gilded by the sun’s last rays, and, as it seemed, scarce distant a mile from me’.

For nearly half a century Chapelcross nuclear power station was a familiar landmark outside Annan. I was one of thousands of people who watched its four chimneys being demolished in 2007. Some souls were sentimental to the point of weeping. It was, indeed, the end of an era for a business that had employed three generations and had brought prosperity to a town which, in 1727, Daniel Defoe had found to be in ‘irrevocable decay’. It was hooray for me when the towers fell, though. Goodbye, plutonium. Goodbye, tritium. There have been proposals for a wood-burning power station there, using sustainable coppiced willows, and an adjacent solar farm has been approved. It remains mothballed.

In the 1960s there had been plans for an atomic metropolis that would have spanned the firth. There would have been a circuit-linear Solway City for 50,000 people, and a new airport. Forty years later there is another proposal – to route an ‘electric bridge’ from Annan to Bowness-on-Solway using energy from the world’s third greatest tidal bore. It would create a pedestrian and cycle route between England and Scotland with the usual razzmatazz for tourists and have enough in its locker to power 60,000 homes. The decommissioning of Chapelcross won’t be complete for some 80 years. Meanwhile, Annan’s dreams of a transformed harbour, a tourist hub, were thwarted in 2023 when an application for £8 million from Michael Gove, who had the Tory government’s portfolio for the Orwellian concept of ‘levelling up’, failed.

[rjalker]

On The River, by Guy de Maupassant

I rented a little country house last summer on the banks of the Seine, several leagues from Paris, and went out there to sleep every evening. After a few days I made the acquaintance of one of my neighbors, a man between thirty and forty, who certainly was the most curious specimen I ever met. He was an old boating man, and crazy about boating. He was always beside the water, on the water, or in the water. He must have been born in a boat, and he will certainly die in a boat at the last.

One evening as we were walking along the banks of the Seine I asked him to tell me some stories about his life on the water. The good man at once became animated, his whole expression changed, he became eloquent, almost poetical. There was in his heart one great passion, an absorbing, irresistible passion-the river.

Ah, he said to me, how many memories I have, connected with that river that you see flowing beside us! You people who live in streets know nothing about the river. But listen to a fisherman as he mentions the word. To him it is a mysterious thing, profound, unknown, a land of mirages and phantasmagoria, where one sees by night things that do not exist, hears sounds that one does not recognize, trembles without knowing why, as in passing through a cemetery—and it is, in fact, the most sinister of cemeteries, one in which one has no tomb.

The land seems limited to the river boatman, and on dark nights, when there is no moon, the river seems limitless. A sailor has not the same feeling for the sea. It is often remorseless and cruel, it is true; but it shrieks, it roars, it is honest, the great sea; while the river is silent and perfidious. It does not speak, it flows along without a sound; and this eternal motion of flowing water is more terrible to me than the high waves of the ocean.

Dreamers maintain that the sea hides in its bosom vast tracts of blue where those who are drowned roam among the big fishes, amid strange forests and crystal grottoes. The river has only black depths where one rots in the slime. It is beautiful, however, when it sparkles in the light of the rising sun and gently laps its banks covered with whispering reeds.

The poet says, speaking of the ocean, “O waves, what mournful tragedies ye know —Deep waves, the dread of kneeling mothers' hearts! Ye tell them to each other as ye roll On flowing tide, and this it is that gives The sad despairing tones unto your voice As on ye roll at eve by mounting tide.”

Well, I think that the stories whispered by the slender reeds, with their little soft voices, must be more sinister than the lugubrious tragedies told by the roaring of the waves.

But as you have asked for some of my recollections, I will tell you of a singular adventure that happened to me ten years ago.

I was living, as I am now, in Mother Lafon's house, and one of my closest friends, Louis Bernet who has now given up boating, his low shoes and his bare neck, to go into the Supreme Court, was living in the village of C., two leagues further down the river. We dined together every day, sometimes at his house, sometimes at mine.

One evening as I was coming home along and was pretty tired, rowing with difficulty my big boat, a twelve-footer, which I always took out at night, I stopped a few moments to draw breath near the reed-covered point yonder, about two hundred metres from the railway bridge.

It was a magnificent night, the moon shone brightly, the river gleamed, the air was calm and soft. This peacefulness tempted me. I thought to myself that it would be pleasant to smoke a pipe in this spot. I took up my anchor and cast it into the river.

The boat floated downstream with the current, to the end of the chain, and then stopped, and I seated myself in the stern on my sheepskin and made myself as comfortable as possible. There was not a sound to be heard, except that I occasionally thought I could perceive an almost imperceptible lapping of the water against the bank, and I noticed taller groups of reeds which assumed strange shapes and seemed, at times, to move.

The river was perfectly calm, but I felt myself affected by the unusual silence that surrounded me. All the creatures, frogs and toads, those nocturnal singers of the marsh, were silent.

Suddenly a frog croaked to my right, and close beside me. I shuddered. It ceased, and I heard nothing more, and resolved to smoke, to soothe my mind. But, although I was a noted colorer of pipes, I could not smoke; at the second draw I was nauseated, and gave up trying. I began to sing. The sound of my voice was distressing to me. So I lay still, but presently the slight motion of the boat disturbed me. It seemed to me as if she were making huge lurches, from bank to bank of the river, touching each bank alternately. Then I felt as though an invisible force, or being, were drawing her to the surface of the water and lifting her out, to let her fall again. I was tossed about as in a tempest. I heard noises around me. I sprang to my feet with a single bound. The water was glistening, all was calm.

I saw that my nerves were somewhat shaky, and I resolved to leave the spot. I pulled the anchor chain, the boat began to move; then I felt a resistance. I pulled harder, the anchor did not come up; it had caught on something at the bottom of the river and I could not raise it. I began pulling again, but all in vain. Then, with my oars, I turned the boat with its head up stream to change the position of the anchor. It was no use, it was still caught. I flew into a rage and shook the chain furiously. Nothing budged. I sat down, disheartened, and began to reflect on my situation. I could not dream of breaking this chain, or detaching it from the boat, for it was massive and was riveted at the bows to a piece of wood as thick as my arm. However, as the weather was so fine I thought that it probably would not be long before some fisherman came to my aid. My ill-luck had quieted me. I sat down and was able, at length, to smoke my pipe. I had a bottle of rum; I drank two or three glasses, and was able to laugh at the situation. It was very warm; so that, if need be, I could sleep out under the stars without any great harm.

All at once there was a little knock at the side of the boat. I gave a start, and a cold sweat broke out all over me. The noise was, doubtless, caused by some piece of wood borne along by the current, but that was enough, and I again became a prey to a strange nervous agitation. I seized the chain and tensed my muscles in a desperate effort. The anchor held firm. I sat down again, exhausted.

The river had slowly become enveloped in a thick white fog which lay close to the water, so that when I stood up I could see neither the river, nor my feet, nor my boat; but could perceive only the tops of the reeds, and farther off in the distance the plain, lying white in the moonlight, with big black patches rising up from it towards the sky, which were formed by groups of Italian poplars. I was as if buried to the waist in a cloud of cotton of singular whiteness, and all sorts of strange fancies came into my mind. I thought that someone was trying to climb into my boat which I could no longer distinguish, and that the river, hidden by the thick fog, was full of strange creatures which were swimming all around me. I felt horribly uncomfortable, my forehead felt as if it had a tight band round it, my heart beat so that it almost suffocated me, and, almost beside myself, I thought of swimming away from the place. But then, again, the very idea made me tremble with fear. I saw myself, lost, going by guesswork in this heavy fog, struggling about amid the grasses and reeds which I could not escape, my breath rattling with fear, neither seeing the bank, nor finding my boat; and it seemed as if I would feel myself dragged down by the feet to the bottom of these black waters.

In fact, as I should have had to ascend the stream at least five hundred metres before finding a spot free from grasses and rushes where I could land, there were nine chances to one that I could not find my way in the fog and that I should drown, no matter how well I could swim.

I tried to reason with myself. My will made me resolve not to be afraid, but there was something in me besides my will, and that other thing was afraid. I asked myself what there was to be afraid of. My brave “ego” ridiculed my coward “ego,” and never did I realize, as on that day, the existence in us of two rival personalities, one desiring a thing, the other resisting, and each winning the day in turn.

This stupid, inexplicable fear increased, and became terror. I remained motionless, my eyes staring, my ears on the stretch with expectation. Of what? I did not know, but it must be something terrible. I believe if it had occurred to a fish to jump out of the water, as often happens, nothing more would have been required to make me fall over, stiff and unconscious.

However, by a violent effort I succeeded in becoming almost rational again. I took up my bottle of rum and took several pulls. Then an idea came to me, and I began to shout with all my might towards all the points of the compass in succession. When my throat was absolutely paralyzed I listened. A dog was howling, at a great distance.

I drank some more rum and stretched myself out at the bottom of the boat. I remained there about an hour, perhaps two, not sleeping, my eyes wide open, with nightmares all about me. I did not dare to rise, and yet I intensely longed to do so. I delayed it from moment to moment. I said to myself: “Come, get up!” and I was afraid to move. At last I raised myself with infinite caution as though my life depended on the slightest sound that I might make; and looked over the edge of the boat. I was dazzled by the most marvellous, the most astonishing sight that it is possible to see. It was one of those phantasmagoria of fairyland, one of those sights described by travellers on their return from distant lands, whom we listen to without believing.

The fog which, two hours before, had floated on the water, had gradually cleared off and massed on the banks, leaving the river absolutely clear; while it formed on either bank an uninterrupted wall six or seven metres high, which shone in the moonlight with the dazzling brilliance of snow. One saw nothing but the river gleaming with light between these two white mountains; and high above my head sailed the great full moon, in the midst of a bluish, milky sky.

All the creatures in the water were awake. The frogs croaked furiously, while every few moments I heard, first to the right and then to the left, the abrupt, monotonous and mournful metallic note of the bullfrogs. Strange to say, I was no longer afraid. I was in the midst of such an unusual landscape that the most remarkable things would not have astonished me.

How long this lasted I do not know, for I ended by falling asleep. When I opened my eyes the moon had gone down and the sky was full of clouds. The water lapped mournfully, the wind was blowing, it was pitch dark. I drank the rest of the rum, then listened, while I trembled, to the rustling of the reeds and the foreboding sound of the river. I tried to see, but could not distinguish my boat, nor even my hands, which I held up close to my eyes.

Little by little, however, the blackness became less intense. All at once I thought I noticed a shadow gliding past, quite near me. I shouted, a voice replied; it was a fisherman. I called him; he came near and I told him of my ill-luck. He rowed his boat alongside of mine and, together, we pulled at the anchor chain. The anchor did not move. Day came, gloomy gray, rainy and cold, one of those days that bring one sorrows and misfortunes. I saw another boat. We hailed it. The man on board of her joined his efforts to ours, and gradually the anchor yielded. It rose, but slowly, slowly, loaded down by a considerable weight. At length we perceived a black mass and we drew it on board. It was the corpse of an old women with a big stone round her neck.

[chiptrillino]

you summoned me to talk about jee?

I feel too self-conscious to do deep dive character analyses but based on what little we know from canon i would sum him up as: +grumpy and judging (had to work hard for the frown lines) +swallowing things that displease him down till he explodes (i mean... 2 and a half years on zukos ship, and he got in nearly handsy fights with zuko just recently and the threat of trowing zuko over board began in the storm episode. This man seems to have some patience of steal!) +compassionate looking out for other (like the crew is on his concern obviously! but also after iroh airing out zukos dirty laundry and jee maybe feeling kind of bad things got better) +very reliable (like seriously... without jee zuko and iroh would have stranded on an abandoned isle...) +artistic (-inserts image of him playing the pipa to rest my case-)

this is now dipping into me personally flashing jee out more.

i do think he judges people silently and has a thing for gossip. he doesn't partake in it or spread it but when the crew is like gossiping he is like pretending to work and all ears, on the side. also thinks his own part in his head. (and he so hates it when he catches himself being judgy at iroh not taking things serious and he has then to agree to zuko shouting his lungs out)

is very superstitious and in a way the atla equivalent religious. BUT due to him likely coming from a simple fishers' family on a remote isle and now being a sailor, i think most of his prayer are curiously towards the ocean or moon spirit and not to the sun. he is on water, you have to respect them! also who know what kind of encounters he had following zukos avatar hunting. better be safe and invest in a talisman. (just as an example... if jee were on zhaos ship when zhao just casually says "i intend to remove the moon" jee would have just punched him off the bridge. Like you don't fuck with that suff. one moment, zhao is there. the next there is a splash and jee realizes what he did. this is me wishful thinking here)

secretly a vary romantic guy. like he doesn't have his port romances. sure, he visits brothel sometimes. but private at night he wishes for someone to call his own who he can sail the world with and play his song on the pipa and just be happy. is this poor man asking to much? on this topic, sorry to any future lovers. ocean comes first human second. (does jee know more songs about the ocean or songs about love? HA, this question is a trap! because all his love songs are for the ocean! and all his ocean songs involve love)

he does not do meditation but he does.... have his ritural of chilling with some fire whiskey and a pipe to smoke and watch the sunset or the stars. or the sunrise. one of the three. better not desturbe him. he gets really grumpy when he runs out of tabacco and fire whiskey though. well in emergency he hides in his cabin and plays the pipa til he feels more aligned with his inner self. but playing pipa motivates iroh to music night and the prince than stomping and shouting no so.... jee: i can't have some fucking peace and quiet here on this ship...

also summing up. i do think he punched more his own kind rather than others. has many tattoos. secretly closed in gay. tradition is of importance. when he gets a task he commits to it and exells even though he thinks he does the bare minimum.

also he totally survived the siege in the north and is just chilling in an EK village living finally the life he deserves! oh while i have your attention here some fan fiction with him in that i really like! (i mean i am biased, maybe because one or two got written for me or inspired by me. but genuinely amazing writers, all of them!

Stones in the road - by outpastthemoat tumblr: @outpastthemoat

1000 Ballads Between Summer & Fall - Atheriz

Jee's Tea Isn't Drugged (but Zuko's is) - thispatternismine this is the Jee POV version of the fic The Taste of Tea by the same author

there are more fics where i like jee in it, but he doesn't have a huge role from the start or at lest not much focus is on him. but these are like three where i really like how the writers flashed him out! now quick someone send me an ask about chit sang so i can trow the ball back to kath!

serious question, but how would you describe jee- personality wise?

i trust u - 🍓

this is a very funny question and also one that i think.....a certain lovely mutual may be more equipped to answer....in fact i am going to volley this to @chiptrillino to see if she may be of better use here lmfao

[puffpixieofficial]

@heyimkate with our “Fantasy Cat Piece”😍🎀💫💖puffpixie.com

[shopcrescentmoods]

https://shopcrescentmoods.com/products/sailor-moon-water-pipe-1

[ohthealiendays]

Mandarin Cookies 🍪

[midnightluck]

Sailor Ace strikes again! I swear I'm working on the next chapter; thank you everyone who is still waiting haha.

read this fic by @midnightluck and now I think about it everydayㅠㅠ.. 🌝🌚 

[princesscolumbia]

So it's been long enough and I'm expecting to come back to it, but my oldest popular fanfic, Fission, is now up on AO3. If you're not aware, I started penning this work back in 2006 as Ranma 1/2 was starting to lose relevance in anime pop culture. Inu Yasha was taking its place as young women were becoming an anime watching demographic in the USA and, as gender-fluid (literally) as Ranma's core audience is, "Dog-demon-boy hearts girl" had greater appeal to the wider young women demographic than "boy-who-understands-how-important-an-emergency-tampon-is hearts girl".

It also was released in the age of After Fuku Fic (AFF). During the Fuku fic era, there was clone after clone after clone of the core idea of "what if Ranma were to become a senshi?" Every member of the Ranma cast got shoved into a seifuku, it seemed, and any characters on either the Sailor Moon or Ranma parts of the equation that didn't fit just so were often discarded. This isn't to say the sub-sub-sub-genre is bad (I'm writing for it, so clearly I don't think so) but people just got tired of it.

And I dropped Fission in the middle of that and found myself in the rare company of people who wrote a fuku fic that even people who'd been completely burned out on the idea still wanted to read it.

Life happened, and I wound up reading (and writing) MLP-centric fics, then She-ra, and lately dabbling in The Locked Tomb. And yet I still keep drifting back to this oldy but goodie because I've just got so many stories in that sandbox I want to tell.

So without further ado, I present to you...

Fission

A Ranma 1/2 & Sailor Moon fanfic

by Princess Celestia

Ranma is having A Day. The usual wacky relationship hijinks wind up with him tripping while running from his self-declared love interests (it has to do with martial arts, several foreign laws, and an okonomiyaki cart...long story) and falling off a roof (...again, long story) to pass through a stream of water from a broken pipe, triggering the magic that cursed him to turn into a girl with a splash of cold water. But today the wacky cranked right up into the weird when he DIDN'T collide with the other person who also happens to be standing in the spray of water. Usagi is having a pleasant day, actually. She's spending time with her boyfriend, taking in parts of Tokyo she doesn't normally get to, and in all enjoying herself when she gets a call about a monster attack. She ducks into an alley and starts to transform into Sailor Moon when a pipe bursts and sprays her with water right as someone...doesn't collide with her falling from the roof above. The destiny of both Ranma and Usagi has been altered by a random accident that nobody could have planned for or anticipated. Nobody around them is even remotely prepared.

Konatsu pulled his wooden sword and bounced a few more paces away from the youma, "Where are you going, Ranma-sama?"

Ranma was already pelting out of the room, "To get body armor!" he snapped back.

He darted into the next room and leapt into the pool. Body armor, body armor, body armor... ran through his head as he felt the water cover his form. He felt, for the first time, a surge of magic accompanying his transformation, then for no reason that she could at first figure out suddenly shouted out under water, "MOON... AQUA... POWER... ACTIVATE!"

Konatsu had backed far enough away from the monster while goading it onward that he was able to see what Ranma was doing in the next room. Suddenly, both he and the monster recoiled as water blasted from the pool, light and sound sweeping the room.

Ranma was caught up in a strange transformation like she had never experienced before. She somehow knew it was distinct from her usual Jesenkyo curse. She felt her clothes dissolve into magical mist, then felt ribbons brushing her form. She felt the fingerless gloves, the panties and bra, the fuku, the boots, everything form up on her body. She was even more intently aware of something even stranger going on just in front of her chest. She felt magic streaming out of her, but somehow leaving her even more replenished than if she had just taken a nap. Whatever was going on, it was additive, not subtractive. Two distinct colors flowed from her, one white, the other black. It began swirling together, forming the yin/yang symbol that was familiar to any martial artist, but most especially to her thanks to it's unique meaning for her life. It suddenly hardened into what looked like a crystal, then attached itself to her uniform at the join where her sailor sash met just below her neckline.

This all took place in under three seconds and was completely unseen by Konatsu or the monster thanks to the light show. What Konatsu did see was that, launching up from the explosion of water, light, and sound, was Ranma-sama, but not as the ninja had ever seen her before. He gasped in ecstatic surprise, tinged with a hint of girlish jealousy, "Sailor..."

"MOON..." shouted out an enraged Ranma, "CHESTNUT..." her boots slammed down in front of the youma, "STRIKE!" Ranma-ne-Moon's arms became a magically enhanced blur as she began raining blow after blow against the youma. Incredibly, the youma was blocking or deflecting the punches. Sailor Moon bounced away, and the monster lashed out with an unnaturally long reach against both martial artists.

To catch the whole thing before I write the next chapter, check it out on Archive of Our Own.

[wonderwomanfantasy]

sailor’s song

idk what it is about Bakugou that makes him so good for fantasy AUs

mermaid! Bakugou x Reader

warnings: mentions of drowning, Abo, bakugou

word count: 1,100 (about)

summary: it was dangerous for mermaids to stray too close to humans, but Katsuki couldn’t seem to drag himself away from the ship, after all his mate was calling to him from aboard, whether she knew that or not. 

The sea had always called to you. You loved the salty smell and the sting of the wind hitting your face. There were people who didn’t think Omegas had a place on a ship, it was dangerous work after all, and there were superstitions that it would bring bad luck. Not that anyone would say that to your face you had more than proven yourself on the good ship Alamein. Even if the captain had wanted to keep you on the shore, he’d be an idiot too. You were good at what you did, and nothing would keep you from the ocean. 

You loved night on the open ocean, the blackness of both the sky and the ocean reflecting off of each other. The moon and the stars just pinpricks of light. Insignificant next to the ever-spreading darkness. It was humbling in a way. Showed you how small you were in the grand scheme of things. It was quiet at night too, in the day you got the same vastness of the ocean and sky but it was so loud with everyone bustling around and shouting. 

At night the crew was vastly reduced, a skeleton crew to keep the ship from running aground. Even if there were other people awake, it felt like you were all alone. You looked down at the inky black water when you saw a thin glittering tale cut through the water right next to the ship. You gasped and smiled to yourself. You wondered what wonderful creature might have been. The ocean was so vast it could be anything. 

You saw the tail again this time when it disappeared the torso of a boy took its place, your breath caught in your throat you almost screamed man overboard but something in his face stopped you. His eyes seemed to glow red in the night as he watched you. You realized with a sinking feeling that thing was not human. 

One of the myths you’d first heard when you were first trying to become a sailor was that of Sirens, drowned Omegas turned into monsters using their wails to lure ships to rocky shores sinking the ship. Was that what he was? You crept back to the edge of the boat. He was still there, watching you. He didn’t seem to be singing, but maybe you couldn’t hear it because you were an omega.  The ship gave a sudden lurch almost sending you overboard. You cursed and sprinted to the bow, stumbling with the sudden sharp lurches. 

“What the hell?” you spat

“J-Just trying to avoid the rocks!” the frightened man stammered you looked out shit. When had you gotten so close to sore? There were black sheets of rocks jutting out of the ocean shit, the path you swore the path you were meant to take was smooth. You looked further ahead and saw the sheer face of the cliff it was going to tear clean through the sail if you didn’t do anything and you weren’t strong enough to do it by yourself. 

You swore violently and took off running quickly climbing the rope latter do the crow's nest so you could ring the bell to wake everyone, the ship gave another sudden turn and you felt your grip falter as the ship tilted you screamed as you fell, you hit the water solidly, and that was the last thing you remembered. 

You woke up to the hot sun on your face and the beach sand beneath you. You sat up and surveyed your surroundings. As you looked out at the crystal blue water you saw a ruby red tail cut through the water and the torso of the boy reappeared. 

“You,” you said, your voice cracking from lack of use and thirst “what’s happening?” you demanded. The merman swam towards you resting on a rock near the beach showing his full body and you saw the part where toned tan skin turned to red glittering scales. 

“I saved your ass that’s what's happing, idiot,” he scoffed. You reached up and held your head. 

“But- why? What happened to the ship- where am I?

“One question at a time dumbass. The ship was fine, you were the only one lost at sea all those other dick heads made it out okay and you’re on the mainland just a few miles south of the main port, you’ll be fine,” he snapped. You got to your knees shakily and walked over you him examining him closely. 

“Okay, but why save me? I thought sirens ate overthrown sailors,” He was beautiful, defined muscles and dazzling eyes but he was clearly a hunting animal, sharp teeth and claw-like nails not to mention his abrasive attitude. 

“You’re my mate I wasn’t just going to let you drown idiot,” he snapped making you freeze before scuttling back from his reach. 

“You couldn’t know that not just by looking at me,” you stammered. That was impossible, you could only know someone was your mate after getting to know them this- this monster didn’t even know your name. 

“Maybe you can’t because you’re an idiot human but I can,” he snapped his cheeks turning bright red. You looked at him closely again. Handsome? Yes, an alpha? Certainly. As you got closer you realized that the smell of coconut and palm wasn’t just the beach you were on but him. Now that you knew what you were smelling was him your heart gave a pang. You didn’t even know his name but you were drawn to him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

“Whatever, like I said, I couldn’t just let you drown,” he scoffed. 

“Does this happen a lot? I mean mermaids having human mates?” you asked. 

“No, but it’s not unheard of, that’s where sirens come from,” you had drifted closer to him over the course of the conversion but at the mention of sirens, you jerked back out of his reach.

“You drown your mates?” you nearly shrieked. 

“OI pipe down dumb ass where did you get that from? Of course not-”

“But I thought Sirens were drowned Omegas,” you protested. 

“No you idiot, they're just omega mermaids, the change happens through magic.”

“Magic? But magic isn’t real,” he looked at you like you were stupid. 

“You’re talking to a fucking merman and you don’t think magic is real?”

“I’m sorry this is all a lot,” his expression softened. 

“I know, if you excepted me as your mate you’d have to leave behind this world forever, it’s a lot to ask for anyone,” he trailed off at the end not saying what he was thinking, that he hoped you’d make that sacrifice anyways. 

“I don’t even know your name,” you breathed, closing the distance between you again. 

“Katsuki,”

“Katsuki, can I- can I get to know you first? Before I make that call?”

“Of course,” and with that, now you have another thing calling you to the sea.