#this can apply to so many characters rose is a big one but liking the alpha kids is fucking torture sometimes

[manifestmerlin]

The way some homestuck fans will say they like a character or think their writing is great and then proceed to describe the most fucking negative, noncanonical, baffling view of who that character is should be studied. The post canon content's decision to just fucking shoot characters with the evil beam that makes you uncharacteristically evil has truly done fucking unfixable damage to some of the best parts of the comic in terms of the fandom's perception of certain characters and who they are.

[cherrieflavouredheadcanons]

Hello! Can I apply for a general relationship hc with Lyney?

Ah yes, greatest magican, aka the rizzard. I should say that at the point of writing this, I still have not played his character story and have evaded spoilers for it very well so far, so if anything is not that accurate that's why. But I hope you enjoy these headcanons!

CW: None GN Reader

Lyney Relationship Headcanons

Let me start this off by saying. This man is an absolute simp for you. If he could, he'd buy you everything you could ever want or need in life.

He lives to see you happy, a day where he hasn’t made you smile and laugh is a day he considered wasted. If the people of Fontaines believe in justice is the power used to energise the technology in Fontaine, then your laughs and smiles are the power to energise Lyney.

Lyney always gives you a rainbow rose before every date. Sometimes he gives them to you like a normal person, most of the time though he will give them to you with a magic trick. You have no idea what he does to the flowers, but he has to do something with them since they never seem to wilt away. You once asked him how he did it and all he claimed was “They will bloom as long as I love you my dear, which means they will bloom forever.”

Surprising you with magic tricks is one of his favourite activities. He comes up with so many ideas that it is impossible to carry them all out. And poor Lynette always has to help him set up the ones he does carry out and has to be his assistant for them, even if she is hidden somewhere so you won’t see her. She loves her brother truly, but by the Archons his love sick self could be annoying.

Speaking of magic tricks, for every one of his shows he has a seat reserved for you. He is aware that you can’t go to every one of his and Lynette’s shows, but he still reserves a seat for you anyways. So that when you are watching them you are always in the same seat and he can easily find your eyes amongst the many people in the audience. He will look at you, and his eyes turn soft and his smile grows a bit wider.

And should he ever need an assistant from the audience? Well lets just say that whenever you are watching the number generator randomly picks you every time. What a coincidence right?

Walking through the streets of Fontaine while holding hands is a must for him. He wants everyone to see what an amazing partner he has. If it were up to him all of Teyvat would know that he is taken and absolutely enamoured by you.

Though it should be said that despite being absolutely in love with you, Lyney would not be in a relationship with you if his sister or brother couldn’t stand you. They are a big and very important part of his life, and anyone who does not like them has no place in his life and heart. Luckily for you Lynette likes you, she sees how happy you make her brother. Freminet appreciates that you do not force him to speak when he is clearly uncomfortable and is also grateful for you that you treat them all with respect and love.

Whenever you aren’t paying attention to your surroundings, be it because you are sitting somewhere and reading a book, engrossed in the story, or because you are cooking a meal for Lyney, his siblings and well yourself, he will sneak up on you from behind and wrap his arms around you, kissing your cheek as he laughs. You want to be mad at him for scaring you, but how can you when he laughs so happily and his eyes shine with love?

While Lyney obviously has many magic tricks he works on to show them in front of a big audience and always has Lynette as his assistant. There is one trick that he is currently planning where he doesn’t want an audience or an assistant for. 

What is that trick? Well let’s just say it has to do with a ring sitting in a small velvet box ;)

[emotionallychargedtowel]

BL meta master post

I've had an Utsukushii Kare master post as my pinned post for a while now, since I've posted so much about it. But I think it's time I do a general BL meta post instead. All of the links and information from the Utsukare post are here, too, but so are links to my other BL meta posts.

It's going to take a while to get everything in here so I'm going to go ahead and publish it even though it isn't entirely complete. I'll continue updating it until it is complete, and I'll add newer posts as they come.

Posts covering multiple BLs

The pursuer-distancer dyad & how it applies to the world of BL - a primer on this psychological concept and how it applies to BL generally, touching on how it applies to Utsukushii Kare, Semantic Error, and To My Star 2

BL ask game: Long-term pining and grumpy/sunshine

My top 5 rewatched BL scenes, responding to an ask by @wen-kexing-apologist (Spoiler: it's still mostly Utsukare)

Zettai BL season 3

What's different about Hatano, part 1 - In short, Hatano isn't fucking around.

What's different about Hatano, part 2 - Hatano's awareness of Mob's fourth wall-breaking and other ways he sometimes senses Mob's reality in a way no one else has

25 ji Akasaka de

Prying off the shell - In episode 7, Hayama's friend Mihara makes a an interesting observation. He says that Shirasaki doesn't seem to have a "shell"--his way of talking about a social self, a persona that a person experiences as separate from their core self. Then he points out that Hayama not only has a "shell," he has multiple layers of shell, so many that it's essentially impenetrable, like a neverending set of matryoshka dolls. I wrote here about what these shell metaphors really mean psychologicaly, how Hayama's family of origin played into his multilayered shell, and the implications of both their personalities on how they relate to each other.

Nominating a runner for 25 ji - If someone has to do the traditional JBL thing of running through the streets to get to the other person, who should run? That's a question @my-rose-tinted-glasses and @lurkingshan discussed, and it got me thinking.

Hayama's mask finally slips - Looking closely at Hayama's affect in the opening scene of episode 9--and trying to process the level of blorbo distress that entails

Over-analyzing the finale trailer in a vain attempt to try to manage my pre-finale angst

The Eighth Sense

The Eighth Sense e5 & e6: Portraying trauma with nuance

On The Eighth Sense episodes 7 & 8

The Eighth Sense episodes 9 and 10: All we can do is try

Bokura no Shokutaku/Our Dining Table

Thoughts on the "spinoff" (bonus episode) and how it's a logical extension of the leads' character arcs

Old Fashion Cupcake

I had a realization about Nozue's constant, somewhat inappropriate complimenting of Togawa while looking at a gifset and reblogged it with my thoughts

To My Star

Notes on a gifset by @jimmysea - Nerding out big time on that one season 2 kiss

Only Friends

Sand, compulsive caregiver - On Sand's documented history of parentification and how it relates to his relationship with Ray

Minato's Laundromat

About that Minato's Laundromat season 2 storyline... - Commenting on a certain character's traumatic brain injury and its effects from a psychology perspective

Kiseki: Dear to Me

Chu chu chu; or, intimate scene tips from the Kiseki cast

Brief commentary on a reblog of some behind-the-scenes footage

HIStory 3: Trapped

A reblog of the "chu chu chu" post about Kiseki that adds similar information about how intimacy was handled on the set of HIStory 3: Trapped - featuring a helpful linguistic note from @nibupei

and, last but not least...

Utsukushii Kare meta

The psychological paradoxes of Utsukushii Kare

This is a series of posts (the current plan is to write three installments) about what it says on the tin: paradoxical psychological dynamics in Utsukushii Kare. These are things about the characters that may seem contradictory at first but can be accounted for by digging deeper into some psychological concepts. These posts are focused on the series (both seasons) but will draw from the movie and from the novel and related stories when they illustrate points about the series.

Part 1: Covert grandiosity and finding status through idealization - A pretty deep dive into 1) the subtle ways Hira shows that while his self-image can be highly negative in some ways, in other respects he feels superior to others and 2) how by elevating Kiyoi’s status and humbling himself in comparison, Hira attains a different kind of status.

An addendum of sorts to part 1: Hira's parents and his self-defeating tendencies - Some guesswork about how Hira's parents could have contributed to his self-defeating personality, with some further discussion of specific self-defeating strategies he uses in his relationship with Kiyoi and elsewhere.

Utsukushii Kare through the lens of pursuer-distancer dynamics and related psychological concepts:

The pursuer-distancer dyad & how it applies to the world of BL - a primer on this psychological concept and how it applies to BL generally, with a brief reference to how this concept applies to Utsukare (also touches on Semantic Error and talks in detail about an example from To My Star 2). This one isn't super focused on Utsukushii Kare but is pretty de rigeur for understanding my UK posts on this topic.

Paradoxical roles; or, I think I finally figured out the pursuer-distancer dynamic in Utsukushii Kare - This post comes after some of the posts listed below but I recommend reading it first as this is really where (I think) I cracked the code on this aspect of the story.

Pursuer-distancer roles & attachment style in Utsukushii Kare, Part 1: Hira - In-depth discussion of Hira's role in the pursuer-distancer dyad, his attachment style, and his personality

Pursuer-distancer roles and attachment style in Utsukushii Kare Part 2: Kiyoi - In-depth discussion of Kiyoi's role in the pursuer-distancer dyad, his attachment style, and his personality

Re-evaluating pursuing & distancing in Utsukushii Kare season 1 - super detailed post working out my thoughts about pursuing and distancing in season 1

On the way Sakai Mai (the series' director) uses seme left, uke right framing and its significance in BL and other Japanese media:

Using an example from the s2e1 with the girl who hits on Hira at a party (via a reblog of a gifset from @nanons)

On the way Sakai flips Hira's and Kiyoi's position in the frame in two versions of the same scene and what it tells us about its significance

How the persistent/cute trope plays out in Utsukushii Kare season 2, plus related overanalyses of the big season 2 finale kiss:

The persistent and the cute (how "persistent" and "cute" are code words with specific meanings in BL/yaoi/other drama and manga genres/Japanese culture more broadly)

Analyzing the season 2 finale kiss in light of seme left/uke right framing and the persistent/cute trope (in a reblog of a gif post by @nanons)

Reblogging @bl-bracket to lobby for the season 2 finale kiss, with more overanalysis

Fragrance nerd discussion:

This bittersweet fragrance - on the significance of osmanthus/tea olive in Utsukushii Kare season 2, with additional information on the possible significance of the fragrance of osmanthus and perfumes that are either osmanthus soliflores or feature prominent osmanthus notes

Posts on specific season 2 episodes:

initial thoughts about S2e1

Additional (informal) thoughts on s2e1

S2e1 rundown

Hira's incongruous/misaligned affect at the end of s2e1

S2e2 rundown

on S2e2, including pursuer-distancer dynamics and seme left, uke right

Utsukushii Kare S2E4: “face me straight on” (mostly discussing relationship dynamics pointed out in topic-specific metas)

on Utsukushii Kare: Eternal:

Kiyoi and Anna: on Kiyoi’s friendship with Anna and its significance for his personal growth

[chaikachi]

Little Red Riding Hood, The Big Bad Wolf, & The Silver Bullet

Aka I did an Oscar as The Little Prince analysis and now I wanna do one for Ruby's allusion in honour of the 10th Anniversary.

I know most if not all of us are familiar, but I'm still going to start with a summary.

Little Red is a story about a young girl in a red cloak who is sent into the woods at her mother's behest to bring baked goods to her sick grandmother. There, she meets a malicious wolf that asks her many questions, to which she answers all truthfully and without hesitation. The wolf takes this information and uses it to beat the girl to her destination where he then swallows her grandma whole and disguises himself in the woman's clothes. There he waits for the child to arrive and come closer so he can swallow her up too.

There are actually two popular versions of this story with different endings that we often look back to.

In Perrault's story, there is no happy ending. They're both eaten up, the wolf is content. The end. But in the Grimm version, there is an additional character... the Huntsman (aka the woodsman). He hears the wolf snoring after its meal and ends up cutting the beast open & saving the victims. Then, with the help of Little Red Riding Hood, he kills the wolf before it can do anymore harm.

All in all, it's a story about childhood innocence being lost, learning not to trust strangers, and being mindful to always follow the correct path. For if you stray too far, you may lose track of time, invite unwanted danger, or find yourself lost.

In RWBY, we have some very clear allusions here since it's the basis for so much of the show as a whole:

Little Red - Ruby Rose

The Mother - Summer Rose

The Grandmother - Maria

The Hunstman/Woodsman - All Three of Them

The Wolf - Salem and her Grimm (but ESPECIALLY The Hound)

They're all pretty self explanatory.

Ruby has the red cloak, her og trailer is clearly inspired by the tale, she loves baked goods, she's referred to as "Red" and "Little Red" by Torchwick & Cinder. She's also a huntress. And, by and large, her entire arc is about losing that childhood innocence and the view that life "is like a fairytale" as well as struggling with what the "right path" to follow is.

Summer is the mother (baker of cookies) and also the huntsman (slayer of giant monsters). The battle axe being her weapon choice alludes well to the alternate name, Woodsman, as well.

While Maria as the grandmother makes the most sense. Another silver eyed huntress that becomes a mentor figure for Ruby.

And while Salem, her war, & the Grimm (that are all emblematic of that loss of innocence) can absolutely symbolize the wolf... There's a reason why I want to focus on The Hound.

All three previous characters are connected by a very specific common denominator: Silver Eyes.

And the hound is no different.

Just another huntsman... but one devoured by the malice of a canine. And, if Ruby's theory is right, that's the same fate that Summer met as well.

And if you think about Silver Eyes specifically... What is one of the most famous lines from the original fairytale?

"My, what big eyes you have grandmother." "The better to see you with, my dear."

Which, when applied to the grimmification of SEWs, is HAUNTING.

Terrifying when you remember "Woah... you have silver eyes". Also thanks to Behind The Scenes content, that Ruby's hair design was always meant to "be a bit wolf-y". And that since Volume 4, Salem has been interested in capturing Ruby alive... I am WORRIED ABOUT HER.

Some interesting things about silver though that ARE worth noting...

1. "In folklore, a bullet cast from silver is often one of the few weapons that are effective against a werewolf or witch."

2. "The term silver bullet is also a metaphor for a simple, seemingly magical, solution to a difficult problem."

3. "In the Brothers Grimm fairy-tale of The Two Brothers, a bullet-proof witch is shot down by silver buttons, fired from a gun."

The lyric "Yeah I'm a girl but I'm also a gun" from Triumph really tells us point blank (lol) why Ruby is so important to this war against Salem, huh.

I'm gonna end this meta on a fun little easter egg; a hidden fifth character allusion to the original Red Riding Hood fairytale: The Woods.

Now I know what you're thinking, the woods aren't a person, they're a location. But they're INCREDIBLY important to the story.

Overall, the woods are the world outside of the cabin that Little Red grows up in. Whenever she travels beyond it, she's liable to meet all sorts of horrible tragedies and monsters. But I want to talk again specifically about The Hound & just where Ruby first meets them: Atlas.

Or, more specifically, Ironwood's kingdom.

For those unfamiliar, while Jimmy's main allusion is the Tin Man from Oz, his last name gives us a hint to another subtle allusion: Járnviðr. Aka the Iron Wood of Midgard in Norse Mythology (a mythos that's been alluded to a lot in RWBY).

Whiiich if you look at a stanza (40) in the infamous Völuspá, a historic poem which is chalk full of Norse myths, you get the following passage:

In the east sat an old woman in Iron-wood and nurtured there offspring of Fenrir a certain one of them in monstrous form will be the snatcher of the moon

A poem that talks all about the Biggest Baddest Wolf of the Norse pantheon, Fenrir... who is the offspring of a powerful Witch...

and is destined to eat the moon...

All within the Iron Wood, a character Ruby spends an entire volume contemplating on whether or not she can trust...

And the moment she does finally tell Ironwood the truth? The secrets she was keeping? The woods become unsafe, the witch and the wolf appear, and everything else falls apart. Resulting her and her team lost and very far from home.

Say what you want about analyses like these but CRWBY knows what they're doing, okay?

[armageddon-generation]

The One Who Waits Should’ve Been the God of Fiction, not Sutekh

Sutekh was wasted as Series 14’s Big Bad & had no thematic connection to the rest of the stories. He was only there for fan-service. I realize this is partly Big Cope on my part, trying to rationalize the bad writing decisions this series, but it would’ve made way, way more sense thematically for the One Who Waits to be the God of Fiction, from the Land of Fiction.

The Land of Fiction is a pocket dimension the Second Doctor visits in The Mind Robber. Created by the Gods of Ragnarok, in it all the fictional lands and characters ever created exist and evolve, powered by the belief of our universe. It’s perfect for the themes RTD is exploring with series 14.

The God of Fiction latches onto the TARDIS at the edge of the universe during Wild Blue Yonder. The TARDIS as the ultimate narrative machine, the centre of so many twists and stories and myths, all the central plot-developments of this universe. Meta-commentary on the Doctor having slowly become the ‘main character’ of the universe. Of course a parasite that feeds on fiction would attach to him!

Now all s14’s fantasy elements- Goblins, a Bogeyman powered by storytelling, the folklore Fairy Circle, Boom tapping into faith & the afterlife, Rogue’s Bridgerton-fanfic romance & cosplay, all tie into the series arc. Narrative purpose for the experimentalism and scattershot tones, as the God of Fiction forces the TARDIS to new narrative extremes to feed itself.

(Also, 73 Yards- where Ruby is trapped in a nightmare world fuelled by dream-logic that she applies the structure and rules of traditional narrative to, latching onto a villain she has to defeat in order to make sense of the inexplicable- now becomes a microcosm of the whole season.)

People were initially worried RTD might re-use his original plan for Rose with Ruby- i.e. the Doctor manipulating her life to create his perfect companion. It’s a bad idea, but what if it was an external force? Like what Missy did with Clara, turned up to eleven.

The God of Fiction chose Ruby, the foundling, as 15’s perfect companion. The God is the one who shrouded Ruby’s regular human Mum in a Dickensian cloak, and the reason Ruby’s attempts to find a perfectly normal woman failed. They’re dressing her simple story up as a mysterious fairytale. The ‘we create legends out of ordinary people’ idea is baked into the spine of the season.

(This also lampshades 15 & Ruby being BFFs from the start. Skipping over/fast-forwarding through vital Doctor-companion milestones is explicitly because the God of Fiction has seen it all before & wants to get to the good stuff.)

Mrs Flood, with her fourth-wall breaking winks to camera, would be the God of Fiction’s servant in this version.

All the mystery boxes without satisfying answers this season- Susan Twist, the snow, the changing memory- were overtly placed by the God to keep 15 & Ruby on the hook. This way we can talk about the show’s overreliance on the Mystery Box structure, and the nuances of subverting expectations. The God knows they’re in a TV show! They acknowledge baiting 15 & the audience with Susan as shallow key-jangling.

By defeating the God of Fiction at the end of the season, through the genuine, human connection they’ve forged travelling together irrespective of mystery boxes or plot-twists or destiny, Ruby is freed from the constraints of the Narrative, and finally allowed to reunite with her Mum.

15 leaving Ruby would also make way more sense here; Mr. ‘I bring disaster, Kate’, ‘Maybe I’m the bad luck’ just got told his best friend’s life had been manipulated by a God because of him, and the foundation of their relationship was itself orchestrated, choreographed, puppeteered from the outset. He leaves Ruby to finally let her live a real life.

[adeadmansbliss]

Miraculous Fandom and Shipping 09/07/2024

This data is accurate as of 9th July 2024. Every relationship tag is assumed to have been applied correctly. Félix/Marinette has a surprising increase in numbers which may be down to a large spike in uploads (Not impossible) though there may also have been continued issues with the surname change being resolved. There has been a notable decrease in the odd tags going down by one or two, flipping some ships back to red in some cases, which are suspected to be due to deletions or archiving.

There was a minor formula issue that is unknown when it occurred so it is being noted here. The Mireille/Alya cell above the grey line in the numbered spreadsheet now correctly looks where it's supposed to for ensuring the numbers match. Very likely this was caused by a software quirk which if you know, you know.

The key for the first part of the spreadsheet is as follows:

Y (Green) - At least 20 entries

P (Yellow) - Less than 20 entries

N (Red) - Zero entries

The colours are primarily designed for quick glance usage.

The key for the second part of the spreadsheet is as follows:

Green has 0 entries and is checked monthly

Blue has 1-10 entries

Light yellow has 11-14 entries

Saturated yellow has 15-20 entries and is checked monthly

Light grey has 21-50 entries

Medium grey has 51-100 entries

Black has more than 100 entries

Black entries have the data input at the time of the spreadsheet update and are hidden purely so they are checked manually and auto pilot brain does not do it more often than required.

Please excuse the screenshot clipping the highlighted cell at the side there.

As of 9th July 2024, these were all the pairings that have more than 1K works under their tags:

Adrien/Marinette - 37203 Alya/Nino - 7545 Luka/Marinette - 4113 Juleka/Rose - 2238 Marc/Nathaniel - 2229 Adrien/Luka - 1246 Adrien/Kagami - 1236 Kagami/Marinette - 1015

Honourable mention to the next closest to the 1k mark:

Ivan/Mylène - 923

After this there is one ship at 810, another at 744 before a big drop off to sub 500.

In addition to the above, fun stats! The way AO3 treats character tags for the Miraculous fandom means alternate versions of characters such as Chat Blanc and Cat Walker point to Adrien. This means it cannot be searched separately unless it's a non-character tag addition. This has occurred with Alternate Alya, however it has not occurred for the other three introduced with Miraculous Paris. As such by using the below format specifically due to AO3 restrictions to ensure they correctly flag:

Alternate Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Shadybug Alternate Adrien Agreste | Claw Noir Alternate Gabriel Agreste | Betterfly

You can find them.

At the time of typing:

Shadybug/Claw Noir - 100 entries Chat Noir/Shadybug - 6 entries Ladybug/Claw Noir - 1 entry Claw Noir/Alternate Nino - 1 entry

While this data is produced as neutrally as possible it should be said the ever increasing homogenisation of the fandom into lovesquare or bust is proving a concern. While shipping tags are presumed to have been used in good faith, many are not resulting in even canon and "canon" pairings not having as many works as it might appear. If you happen to branch out a bit and enjoy a work, do let the author know! Kudos and comments are a scarcity the further away you go and writing for the void gets exhausting after a while. You never know, while one ship might not click with you you might find one you never thought about before that you quite enjoy.

As ever, if you ever want to add to the tip jar to support this data collection, you can do so at my Ko-Fi here!

[imagoddamnonionmason]

Holidays At The Mason Home - Chapter 5: Slice Of A Nicer Life

Fandom: Call Of Duty: Cold War

Word Count: 6358

Character(s): Alex Mason, Frank Woods, (Toddler) David Mason, Female OCs: Sarah Mason, Female OCs: Jodie "Bell" Hall

Author Note: a big chapter, sorry guys! Basically, chaos and adorableness are in this chapter, so please enjoy!

NO TRIGGER WARNINGS APPLY

It had been a few days since their arrival and it had been easy for four of the five people to settle into a pattern, one they had done for many years before when Frank had come to visit. As for Bell, she had been finding it difficult to sleep easy in a new place and by the time she would fall asleep it would be the early hours of the morning; then, she’d find herself sleeping in against her will. 

That morning, there were four people in the kitchen-dining room and sitting at the table was David, Alex and Frank. A pot of freshly done, steaming hot black coffee was nestled in the centre of it, pushed further to the side of the men. There were also the remnants of breakfast, crumbs and a spare slice of toast on a plate, while David still held onto his empty bowl of porridge. He had eaten most of it, while the dregs were around his mouth and dripping down the side of the bowl - he showed it to his Mum, proudly, and then to his Dad and Uncle Woods. All three had praised him in their own ways, causing the child to beam at them with a toothy grin. 

“Oh, you do like to make a mess,” Sarah commented as she took a damp, clean cloth and started to wipe her son’s face. At first, he wriggled and writhed in her motherly grip.

Alex, who sat across from his son, a half eaten slice of toast in his hand, raised his brows at David, a silent order to stop misbehaving or see what would happen. Beside Alex, Frank was sitting with a newspaper in hand. He was idly reading the articles, not entirely taking in their information, but rather giving himself something to wake him up. He peered over the top of the newspaper to see David still causing a slight ruckus, then sidelong at his friend to see the stare become a glare. Woods chuckled, “oh, kid, you better start behaving.” 

David stilled, nodding affirmatively, as Frank took a sip from his newly poured cup of coffee. Above the boy, Sarah mouthed ‘thank you’ for their help, managing to finish cleaning him up. Sarah ruffled her son’s dark hair, lightly prodding the tip of his nose before she collected the pots and cutlery from the tabletop, most of which had been dirtied by the mischievous toddler. As she carried the collection into the kitchen side of the room, placing them down by the sink, she turned back to the men, “either of you want anything else before I start cleanin’ up? I’ve saved some breakfast for Jodie once she comes down.” 

Lifting his coffee-filled cup, Woods said, “got what I need here.” 

“Not for me, honey,” Alex added, “need any help?” 

He had asked this as he rose from his seat, coming to stand behind his wife as she started to run the tap, hand under the mildly warm water to gauge when it was the right temperature. His hands rested on her hips and she leant back into him, as she replied, “nope. All good here.” 

Sarah started to wash the pots once the basin was filled with hot water and sufficient suds of soap floated along the water's surface. Usually, Alex would help with things like this, but when guests were around he knew better than to interfere with her process without asking. Given she didn’t want his help, he returned to the table, hovering at the edge as his knuckles wrapped on the surface, “so, plan for today, Sarah and I are going to the store to pick up a few things. After, we go out to the usual spot, take the rifles, take out a couple of cans.” 

“We can watch David while you’re out,” Frank offered, meaning himself and Bell. He then nodded in agreement with the latter part of the plan. He and Mason often went out into the woods by his home, rifle in hand, and talked about anything while shooting the shit out of some unsuspecting bottles and cans. It was a habitual pastime and it would likely never change. 

“Don’t you two do anything other than shoot things?” Sarah appeared as though she was complaining, but really she was having a good natured jab at the two men. The smile she wore on her face proved so. 

Woods scoffed, “sometimes we shoot people.” 

“Frank.” She gasped, turning to him to offer a chiding look, though it was betrayed by the smile on her features and the look of laughter in her eyes. 

Alex laughed, before he gave his wife a lovingly amused look, “it’ll only be for a couple of hours.” 

“Can I come?” David asked, looking at his Dad pleadingly. Alex shook his head, and Sarah firmly said, “absolutely not, David, you are three years old.” 

In all honesty, David didn’t know what they were talking about, he just wanted to go with them. But, his Mum had spoken and what she said was always final. Alex placed his hand on top of his son’s head, keeping it there for a little while, “there ya go, buddy, Mom says no.” 

The little boy huffed, then placed his head in his hands as he sulked against the table. Frank watched him amused, but said nothing. 

David’s sulking did not last for long, however, and as Alex took his seat back down next to Frank, the boy excitedly chirped, “Uncle Woods! Uncle Woods!” 

Without looking up from the paper, folded over onto itself so he could hold in one hand, Woods hummed, “what is it, kid?” 

“Is Dodie my auntie now?” the boy asked, standing on his chair, causing Alex to give him another stern look to sit back down. But David was too excited, having remembered what his parents had said some nights before. Uncle Woods was married to Dodie and that meant he had an auntie now.

Frank narrowed his eyes on the boy, tilting his head to the side as he shifted in his chair. Sometimes Frank noticed that kids often spoke about or brought up the most random of topics and this topic had left him quite confused, “uh… I don’t…Jodie isn’t…” 

“Have you ever? Um, thought that. That you, um, that you, would you,” David heaved a sigh reserved for men three times his age and everyone was surprised with his exasperation, “you wanted- you want. That you want her to do you so much you were married?” 

Hot coffee spilled over the edges of the cup, running over Frank’s fingers, as he felt some of the liquid catch in his throat, causing him to snort and splutter. The liquid scalded his chin, his lips, his hand, and it had splashed onto the table; Frank couldn’t recover as smoothly as he wished, as the coffee caught in his throat continued to rob him of air. He choked, as he fought to place down the cup slowly. 

Alex could not help the laughter that escaped him, a hand slapping Frank’s back in an attempt to help him out, but it was weakened by his amusement. It was not every day that Alex got to see something make his friend lose his composure and the mere fact it was his toddler son made the situation all the more funny. Sarah rushed over with some paper towels, wiping down the table and offering some to the spluttering man, though she bit down on her lip to stop herself from laughing alongside her husband. 

David watched on, innocently, as Sarah then came to him and picked him up, saying “I think it’s time I got you dressed.” 

Sarah made a quick exit from the kitchen with her son, exchanging her presence with a fully dressed Bell. The brunette had entered with a yawn, hand covering her mouth as she tiredly murmured ‘morning’. The sentiment was returned hurriedly by Sarah, which caused Bell to pause in her movements and watch after her for a moment. Then, she pointed in the direction of the stairs from her position in the kitchen doorway, a frown on her features, “is everything alright?” 

Alex’s laughter was still present but less rowdy and he waved Bell down to the seat at the end of the table. He attempted to tell her what had happened, as the woman then let her wide-eyed gaze land on Frank; his white vest had small stained spots of brown, a cough still rattling in his throat, and his hand clutching a paper towel for his life, like it would help in any way to gather much needed oxygen into his lungs. Alex failed to speak, however, as each attempt was spoiled by a new bout of incessant laughter, caused when he turned to look at Frank and was immediately reminded of the image of coffee coming out of his nose. 

Another burst of a laugh came out when Frank barely managed to force out, “fuck off, you prick.” 

Although Frank would like to have the room think he was furious that he was being laughed at, it was difficult to believe when the anger was lost in translation by the interrupting coughs and splutters from his heaving chest. He eventually caught his breath, leaning forward on the table with his head resting in his hands comically, “where’d the hell that come from?” 

Alex Mason, for the life of him, could not begin to explain to the woman what had actually happened, unsure as to whether he would be able to accurately reenact what his son had said or even do the scene justice with his words. It truly had been a situation you had to be there to witness and he found it criminal that she had been a few mere moments late and missed the spectacle. Instead, he opted for slapping Frank on his shoulder in a light friendly manner, a sort of apology for laughing at him in a time of critical need, then mentioned, “my son thinks you’re married.” 

“Ok,” Bell replied, shrugging.

“To him.” Alex jutted his thumb towards his best friend. 

Bell sighed.

Alex offered, “he must have heard me mention what happened the other night, to Sarah.”

Her eyes settled on Frank again, who was rising out of his seat to go and pour the coffee into the kitchen sink. After that, he rinsed out the cup, gave it a quick wash, then put it to drain with the rest of the pots on the side. 

“And the stains on Woods’ chest are coffee, right?” She asked, having assumed what had happened, though the image in her mind was not enough to portray the amusement of the actual event. She added, sly smile on her face as she poured herself a coffee, “I thought David was the toddler here.” 

Behind her, Frank shot her an incredulous glare, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from replying.

A brief pause passed. 

“Hey, you don’t mind watching David for a few hours?” Alex asked, rising out of his chair and heading towards the kitchen door - he was going to join his wife in getting dressed for the day. 

She had frozen on the spot, much like a deer would have in the blaring headlights of an oncoming car, except she was the deer and the car was the simple question that now hovered around her. Bell could do nothing but stare at Alex, eyes wide, unblinking, as her cup hovered just in front of her lips, coffee teetering at the rim. There were twangs of worry that shocked the core of her gut, electrifying the nerves and short circuiting her brain. 

The woman did not feel as though she had earned the trust Mason was placing in her; she did not deserve it. But, there he was, asking for her to care for his child while he was out in the simplest of ways to showcase that trust. 

Through her mind were the racing thoughts of anxiety, merging into multiple voices and faces of people she had come across in her life, from those she had been forced to trust herself, those she had betrayed, those she had come to trust and had been betrayed by - they all seemed to speak to her, haunting her with the same rhetoric. 

They can’t trust you. You’re a woman with blood on your hands. You shouldn’t be anywhere near children. Why does he trust you? 

“Woods is sticking around,” Alex added, once he could see that she had faltered. Did she not like kids? Maybe he hadn’t thought about whether she’d be comfortable with it, it should have crossed his mind. Bell didn’t really know David, perhaps it was that. 

“He’s a good kid,” Frank said, coming to stand by her right, fingers lightly brushing over her shoulder. She found herself leaning into his touch, comforted by it, but murmured through a thick swallow, “won’t he be scared of me?” 

The two men chuckled, before they realised she wasn’t joking. 

Alex reassured her, “hey, that kid has already asked Uncle Woods if you’re his Aunt.” 

Wait, what? 

“Why would I- oh, because of,” she gestured between herself and Frank and they all silently nodded, “alright, that makes sense.” 

A beat. 

“I’ll look after him,” she said, choosing to ignore the anxious voices in her head. 

They retreated, for now, but she knew they would be back at some point, haunting her for a different purpose, at a different time. 

With that being said, Alex thanked her, then made his way upstairs to start getting ready; it was only half an hour later that the Mason family appeared downstairs, all dressed and ready to tackle the day ahead. Frank took his leave, heading to go shower and dress, as Alex and Sarah said their goodbyes and headed through the front door and into the snowy outside. 

There was the sound of Alex’s pickup truck starting and then it really was just her and a little boy stood next to each other in the hallway. Bell looked down at David and he looked up at her, hand in his mouth as he chewed on his fingers. She offered the boy a tight-lipped smile, before gesturing at him half-heartedly, “they probably don’t taste very nice.” 

“Uh-huh,” he replied, wiping his soggy hand down his shirt. Her smile softened and then he was waving his hands out at her, “up!” 

Staring at him, she stood in a pause, before he wiggled his fingers and demanded, “up! Up!” 

Gently, as though she feared she would snap him entirely in two, Bell lifted him up and into her arms. He snuggled into her side and wrapped his tiny arms around her, resting his head in the crook of her neck before giggling, “Auntie Dodie.” 

Her heart swelled, guiltily, unable to bring herself to correct the little boy that she was not such a thing to him; it caused a softness within her, something she had not felt for such a long, long time and she selfishly grasped onto it, even for a moment. But, now he was in her arms, she wondered exactly what she should do to keep him entertained - she couldn’t walk around with him for hours on end. With that in mind, she hummed, “what would you like to do, David, while Mum and Dad are gone?” 

“Hmm,” he pulled his head from where it had been laid against her neck, then put his hand on his forehead as he thought to himself. As he spoke, Bell made note that he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of saying his ‘r’s yet, instead the consonant being replaced with a ‘w’ sound. It made him all the more endearing, “radio! I want radio.” 

With an affirmative nod, she replied, “alright, radio it is.” 

Bell had remembered, when Sarah had ushered her around the house in a bid to show her where everything was, the radio was in the living room. The room itself was small and cosy, carpeted, and in the centre of the room was a low oak coffee table - surrounding it on two sides were a patterned, aged sofa and armchair, but clearly comfortable. There was one spot that dipped lower on the sofa, meaning it was someone's favourite place to perch. Beside the arms of the sofa were two, small side tables, hooded desk lamps nestled atop them, and picture frames of the Mason family. 

Against the wall opposite the sofa and armchair was a large cabinet, filled with records, tapes and ornaments in the top section, whereas the middle section was taken up by the TV. Below that, the cabinet had doors and behind them were two shelves, of which one housed the radio. There were some toys, crayons and colouring books that were kept there for safekeeping. Bell reminded herself to keep note of that, just in case David eventually got bored of the radio. 

The radio was a small black and silver box, with two circular dials on the left upper corner signalling FM and AM; the upper right corner had two knobs, one to swap between channels and the other to dictate tone, treble and bass. 

She had set David down on the carpeted floor next to the cabinet, whilst making sure he didn’t bump into the coffee table, and she picked up the radio. Her thumb hovered over the text in the top centre, Zenith, then switched it on and fiddled with the knobs. Bell did this until a station came through loud and clear, setting it down on the cabinet. 

There was a man talking for a little bit first, but David didn’t seem to care that music wasn’t playing just yet, instead already clapping his hands together and laughing delightfully. Bell watched, fondly, as the speaking then gave way for the beginning of a song. It was one she hadn’t heard for a while, but instantly recognised it as one of her favourites: These Boots Are Made For Walkin’ by Nancy Sinatra. 

At the time of its debut, Bell remembered being based somewhere in the north of Vietnam, tucked away from the war, but close enough to track radio signals and decode any military messages that would dance along the radio waves. She also recalled how she had stolen her own little radio, disappearing from time to time to tune into the westerner’s radio stations and listening to their music. 

A smile grew across her lips, as she watched David’s eyes light up and his body begin to move to the beat of the song. He bobbed up and down on the spot, occasionally jumping, before he reached out to Bell. Her hands caught his and she guided him in a small side-to-side dance, quietly singing along with the words on the old radio. It would crackle every now and again, but its signal remained strong and the volume stronger. 

After a moment, David pulled away from her, jiggling around on his own before he fell flat on his bottom. For a moment, she thought he might cry, but then he burst into laughter, the kind that captured you and dragged you in to join. Bell let a chuckle bubble in her throat, a genuine smile resting steadily on her features. 

“Sing!” David giggled, and Bell did, a little louder for him, even going as far as to put some flare into her movements. He was clapping, giggling, enjoying the show. 

You keep lyin’ when you ought to be truthin’

You keep losin’ when you ought to not bet

The woman scooped David up into her arms, holding him close as she began to jig around the coffee table, bouncing him to the beat on her hip. 

You keep samin’ when you ought to be changin’ 

Now what’s right is right, but you ain’t been right yet

By now, David was making noises in an attempt to join her singing, which caused Bell’s vocals to be disrupted by laughs, soft, endeared. She then paused in her singing to place the toddler on the sofa, making sure she treated him with care, still afraid that she might snap him in half with a strength she didn’t know she had. Of course, this did not happen, but her anxieties were high and the last thing she wanted was to accidentally hurt the adorable boy. 

The song was now in the last leg and she picked up the lyrics. 

These boots are made for walkin’

And that’s just what they’ll do

One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you

David was bopping his head along now. For the last lines of the song, Bell stood with her hands on her hips, blowing a piece of hair from her face, before she dramatically acted out the words. 

Are you ready, boots? 

Start walkin’! 

As the song came to an end, she finished up her performance with one last lap around the coffee table, before she sunk into the seat next to David and feigned going limp. He pushed at her arm, at her head, giggling as he said, “you tired? No!” 

“I am,” she sighed, emphatically, “so tired. It’s all that dancing!” 

“Again, again!” He yelled excitedly, hopping off the sofa to go over to the radio, dialling up the volume a little more. By now, the radio host had mentioned how it was time to cycle through the hits of the year, and another song had been started; she started to rise out of her seat, amused by the boy's antics, consequently spurred on to continue her current train of entertainment for him.

 It was keeping him happy and that was enough for her. 

The song was Abracadabra but she hadn’t caught who it was by - still, that didn’t matter much, and she focused on the drums, the guitar. Just as she was about to take David’s little hands in hers with the intention of dancing with him again, she caught a shadow of a figure in the corner of her eyes, a figure that she had failed to notice there moments prior. 

Her body felt like it had been shocked and she jolted upright. In an instant, she had turned to where she had seen the movement, hands beginning to ball into fists, though they remained at her side despite her mind telling her to have them up guarding her. 

“Woah,” Woods had been leaning against the doorframe, unnoticed for pretty much the entire time she had been dancing, hands hidden in the pockets of his jeans, “only just noticed me, huh?” 

He had been standing there, watching as Bell came out of whatever constantly guarded state she was in, letting loose. His eyes had trailed across her features, noticed how there wasn’t that fogged look of worry, of being lost, and he wished that she could always look so genuinely happy. But, as soon as she had noticed him, the stony features had returned, the mist of apprehension had come over her eyes, and she was once again guarded. 

“Do not do that,” she seethed, as she forced her fists to relax. Then, she turned away from him, embarrassed, “how long have you been standing there?” 

“Long enough to know you can’t dance for sh- nothin’,” he pulled a face in the presence of his almost-error, eyes darting to the boy, who was now holding onto the leg of Bell. 

“Like you could do better,” she scoffed, then directed her question at David, “you think your Uncle Woods can dance better than me?” 

David looked at her, then at his Uncle Woods, then back at her with large unblinking eyes - he then grinned, “I don’t know.” 

Bell gave Woods a thin stare, eyes narrow, “maybe he should try.” 

“Uh, no.” 

“Yeah!” David howled, jumping up and down, “Uncle Woods should dance!” 

The look that Bell received from the other caused a mirthful, but mischievous smile to grow on her features, as she felt the young boy move from her side to grab at the jeans of Woods. He tugged and tugged, until eventually Woods peered down at him, “yeah, kid?” 

“Please,” David drawled, elongating the vowels. 

Bell joined in, much to Woods’ chagrin. 

For all of thirty seconds, Woods took his hands out of his pockets, hanging them in the air stiffly, as he then moved on the spot - just as quickly as he had started, he grumpily went back to his original stance, except he had his arms over his chest as he looked away to the side. David pouted, turning to Bell, as she stared at the other with her mouth agape, “what was that?!” 

Woods shrugged. 

“You’re my favourite,” David murmured into Bell’s leg, as he had begun to hide his face against it, not wanting to let Woods see the impish smile on his face. If there was one thing David knew how to do, it was how to get Uncle Woods to do as he wanted; Woods quickly straightened up, eyebrows raised as he asked, “sorry, kiddo, I didn’t hear ya.” 

David turned his head so that he could peer up at Woods, his eyes round and watery, and forced another pout. He made sure he was heard loud and clear, “Auntie Dodie is my favourite.”

Bell kept quiet, unsure of what to do; was he misbehaving? Or was he just playing? She thought the latter, but couldn’t be sure. 

“I see, that’s how it is, huh?” Woods used his thumb to itch his chin, feigning an image of being incredibly offended by the boy’s words, “she’s your favourite, now, and you’re just gonna forget about me? Uncle Woods?” 

“Yup!” 

Woods quickly hopped into a stance ready for a chase and a shrill screech devolved into a fit of giggles, as David began to run away, rushing around to one side of the coffee table. Woods set upon him, allowing the boy to run just that little bit ahead of him, whilst saying, “come here, come here and say it to my face!”

Eventually, Woods had caught up with David, scooping him up; he had him dangling upside down, held securely with the boy's legs against his side, “who’s your favourite?” 

“Dodie!” 

“Who?” Woods swung him gently, “come again?” 

David could only laugh and between the giggles he cried happily, “it’s you!” 

Woods turned the boy the right way up, then set him down safely on the floor, grinning victoriously, “knew it, I’m always the favourite, don’t you forget it, kid.” 

He then ruffled the kid’s hair, as he turned to face the woman, who had been watching the whole thing unfold with a fond look in her eyes. Once he had turned around and his eyes were on her, she steeled herself, forcing that look away and offering a small, tight smile. He faltered, somewhat, disappointed that she had seemingly become stiff and closed off now that he was in the room. Woods sighed, inwardly, unwilling to let his disdain show. 

“I, uh, I’m gonna head out for a smoke,” he murmured, “don’t steal him from me while I’m gone.” 

Bell nodded and soon David was back in her arms. Another song had been playing, now just passing the first chorus. Neither of them had been listening to the host and as Woods left the living room, moving to the back door in the kitchen, the song faded to a low buzz in the background. Occasionally the lyrics would drift through to him. 

And my life’s lookin up

I think I’m in love

He pulled the packet of cigarettes that had been hiding in the breast pocket of his flannel shirt, hitting the bottom of it to pop out a singular cigarette. He placed the end between his lips, then pulled it from the cardboard packet. It hung loosely, as he opened the door and then stepped outside. As part of his routine, he’d gone and put his boots on, but his laces were not tied - he wouldn’t be spending too long outside anyway. 

It controls me

Makes me do all the things I do for you

He lit the cigarette. 

You’re on my mind, babe

Thinkin’ about you now

Woods drowned out the song by closing the door behind him. 

Drawing in a deep, long drag of the cig, he let the smoke fill his lungs and held it for a second. On the exhale, he let his eyes close, thoughts heading back to the image of Bell acting goofy for the kid. Shaking his head, he found himself amused by her antics, yet yearning for that opportunity to see it for himself, without the need to hover and witness it from the outside.

Who was he kidding, though, that woman would never casually let herself be unguarded around anyone, no matter how much they could prove they would never be a threat to her. Betrayal had followed her like an old friend, to every corner of the world she had gone to, through every experience. He supposed it was hard to expect that anything else could happen - maybe, she was counting down the days until he and Mason did the same as everyone else.   

He wasn’t great with words and even worse with comfort, so there was probably nothing he could say or do that would sufficiently convince her that her current team were not like the rest. 

He was not like the rest. 

Then again, if he was in her position, he’d have wanted to watch the world burn; he’d have thrown his trust in anyone away, watch it circle the drain and descend.

God fucking damn it, Frank, he thought to himself, this ain’t like you gettin’ caught up on someone. So what if she doesn’t trust you? She’s a colleague. A soldier. 

He took another drag of the cigarette, as a chill breeze blew over the snowbanks, wrapping itself around his body. Flashes of the other night filtered into his head, how her body felt against his, how her touch had caused a rippling sensation of heat to wave over his body. His thoughts were entirely consumed by her, distracting and incessant. 

There was a slight burn at his fingertips and he found that he’d neglected to keep his eye on the burning cigarette, which had now come towards the end of its life. It singed the skin of his fingers and he quickly tossed it into the snow. His tone was seething, as he moved to take another cigarette, “fuck.” 

To his right, Maximus padded up to him, sitting at his feet and staring up. He whimpered a little before he nuzzled Woods’ hand, causing the man to sigh and relent; Woods crouched down, discarding the want for another smoke, and decided to fuss Maximus. 

“You got any advice for me, buddy?” He asked the dog, receiving nothing but silence, “nah, didn’t think so.” 

Maximus stared at him for a little bit longer, eyes squinting in enjoyment caused by the scratching of his ears by Woods, before he jutted his nose right into the man’s face. He bumped his nose against his features a couple of times, finally finishing by licking his cheeks adoringly. Maximus did not know what was being said, but he could sense that Woods needed a little comfort and Maximus was good at that. 

“Alright, alright,” Woods chided, gently pushing the dog away as he rose to his feet, having almost been knocked over by Maximus’ sheer strength, “I already had a shower this morning.” 

After a few more minutes of hanging around outside, Woods ventured back into the warmth of the home, kicking his boots off so that he didn’t trudge melting snow through to the living room. Once he was back there, he noted how the radio was now quieter and there was a colouring book splayed out on the coffee table. Crayons were also askew its surface, some broken and others barely even usable with how small they were, but David was managing to colour the pages well enough. He was so occupied with his work, his tongue sticking out in concentration, that he hadn’t noticed his elder walk back in. 

Bell was sitting in the armchair, one leg over the other, with the newspaper that he’d read earlier. It was resting on her knee, as she leant forward to fill in the blank spaces within the puzzles.

As she came to a stop mid-writing, the end of the pen came to rest against her lower lip, tapping the same spot gently as the thoughts moved in her head. Bell didn’t necessarily like crosswords, but she had already finished the sudoku puzzle. 

Woods enjoyed watching her work, taking in her appearance. Her brows were furrowed gently, the smallest of creases working its way into the centre of her forehead. Her eyes were narrowed on the page, irises unmoving as she stared at the words intently, as though willing them to reveal information to her. Woods noticed how her lips were slightly pursed, as the pen rested against them. A strand of hair had come out of place from her hair tie, framing the left of her features. 

Sitting on the sofa adjacent, he decided not to disturb the peace by saying anything, but his presence was acknowledged and sought after when Bell questioned, “Clue, they come in last. Three letters. Any ideas?” 

He tilted his head, as he adjusted his position, leaning further back into the sofa, “what have you thought so far?” 

“Words that are too long to fit,” she admitted, “this is quite a hard one.” 

There was a little bit of silence, then she hummed something unintelligible to herself; she quickly tutted at the thought and threw it aside with a disconcerted shake of her head. Then, she was looking at Woods, as though scrutinising him, but he soon realised that she was giving her sight a break from staring at the page. There was a hint of looking through him, rather than at him, as a fog drifted over her gaze and he noticed the familiar look of being lost again. Part of him wanted to click his fingers, clap her back into reality, but he had learnt the hard way that doing that to someone like her, like Mason, was not a good idea. 

So, he waited patiently for her clarity to return, and after that brief moment of being lost had passed, her eyes blinked and focused on him. It was like she hadn’t just checked out of the room, as she quickly said, “so? Got anything?” 

“No, I don’t,” he replied. Bell sighed, rubbing a hand down her features as the sounds of angry scribbling filled the room; they looked at David, who was currently colouring in enlarged images of the alphabet. He had gotten as far as the letter ‘W’ and was getting annoyed with the crayon - it was pretty small to begin with, but had snapped in half making it even smaller. This is what had caused him to scribble furiously. 

The two adults shared a look with each other, one that was entertained by the little boy’s behaviour, and Woods found himself enamoured with the slight upturn of her lips as they curled into a furtive smile. There was that light again, that relaxed air about her, and he could see the guard slip a little. He willed it further, but it didn’t, though he found himself unable to be entirely disappointed. 

After a moment, he saw her eyes drop back down to the pages, focusing on the bubbled artwork of the alphabet. The smile then dropped a little and that intense, thoughtful stare returned to her features. If a lightbulb could have gone off above her head for all to see, it would have been glowing bright, almost blinding; Woods then witnessed, as he had done many times before in their line of work, how the cogs sunk into place and whirred into life inside her mind. 

The pen was then to paper, as she scribbled down the three letter answer. 

Curiously, Woods murmured, “you figure it out?” 

“X, Y and Z.” 

“What?” 

“They come in last. The last three letters of the English alphabet.” She offered a shy smile, then kept her gaze down on the paper. Part of her felt a little childish, showcasing her excitement for having figured out something as simple as a crossword puzzle. She needed to reign herself in, to harden herself and keep up her walls. 

“Huh, that’s…” Woods nodded slowly, then shifted in his seat. It was actually a very clever little thing and would have had him running around in circles for days, yet she’d clicked on as quickly as ever. He shouldn’t have expected any less, as it had only taken her a few days to crack the floppy disk decryption - she was a meticulous mind. 

“Sneaky,” she finished his sentence for him, “it’s sneaky. But he helped.” Bell gestured with the pen towards David and his colouring book. Woods leant forward, peering at the now haphazardly coloured letters. As he peered over the boy's shoulder, his hand absentmindedly ruffled his hair. David swatted at his hand, trying his best to keep his eyes and attention solely on the task of furiously colouring. 

“Slow down, kiddo, you’ll tear the pages,” Woods chided, gently. 

Then, there was the sound of the front door opening and a sweet, huffing voice called out, “we’re baaack~” 

David stopped his scribbling, then tried his best to get up as quickly as possible to greet his parents. Woods followed him, just to make sure that he didn’t take a tumble in his haste, and Bell was left alone in the room. She watched after them, as a swelling feeling in her chest grew warm. She supposed, if she allowed herself to think about it for any length of time, that this kind of life was really nice. Bell could only wish for it, though, and reconciled with the fact that this snippet was good enough for her.

[sonicshipbattles]

Amy Ship Tournament Nominations

While in Japan she was introduced as Nikki's girlfriend in the manga, to many of us in the rest of the world, Amy Rose was introduced as a spirited girl who had a crush on Sonic. She's gone from chasing him to being a part of the core team and whether she's looking for love or looking to spread love for the world around her, Amy has been a big focus on the fandom and certainly of the shipping scene ever since she first appeared Which is why our third tournament will be focused on ships featuring Amy Rose. Submit as many ships as you like - the more nominations we get, the bigger the bracket. Repeat nominations also help with seeding by showing the popular options, so please don't hesitate to submit ships you assume will have already been submitted SUBMIT YOUR SHIPS HERE:

Also, submission/tournament rules under read more:

Most importantly: BE NICE. No bashing of any ship will be welcomed. Use your propaganda to uplift your own ship, not put down others

Any Amy ships from any media is welcome - be it the games, comics, cartoons or anything else

Only ships including the character Amy Rose will be accepted (e.g. Amy/Tekno, Amy/Silver, etc.). Ships for other characters in the series that do not involve Amy (e.g. Tails/Kit, Knuckles/Rouge, Dave/Meh Burger, etc.) will get their own tournaments later on. Submissions that do not follow this rule will be ignored

Submit as many ships as you want, but don't spam submit a single ship

No Amy x OC ships. All of your OCs are great and we wouldn't want anyone's feelings hurt by seeing them knocked out :( For the sake of this tournament, an OC is a fan-made character that has never been used nor was created to be used in licensed Sonic media (So yes, you can submit cancelled character ships if any of those apply to Amy)

We do accept crossover ships. Preferrably from series that Sonic has officially crossed over with, but anything is fine I may make posts asking for feedback on crossovers with franchises I'm less familiar with

Polycules are welcome

If you have a specific version of the ship that you like, specify what it is and this will be counted as separate to the general ship, e.g. Amy/Sonic (general) and Amy/Sonic (Sonic X) would be included as separate ships

Ships pairing Amy with younger characters like Cream or Charmy obviously won't be accepted. If a ship is submitted and I'm worried it might make waves, I'll run a poll to see if it should be included in the tournament or not

Submissions will be open until Wednesday 28th June or until I feel we have enough to run a tournament

[bookishtheaterlover7]

Not sure how to view Chris anymore and it’s sad. At this point whatever the “truth” is, it doesn’t matter.

I’m just floored at how someone could be so weak to get into this mess and not “be able to get out”and it’s easy to say oh it’s hard for him to get out but he’s at least trying to show this is fake, yet he was bold enough to lie to the world about being married?

Make that make sense?

Like how the fuck do they clean this up at all?

It’s like reality and illusions are morphing together and I honestly don’t know who the fuck this man truly is and maybe that’s the way it should’ve always been.

We get wrapped up in this shit mainly due to the way of the world and due to Hollywood and capitalism, etc, but we have to take accountability by finally choosing to not fall for seeing other mere mortals as anything but human.

If you take any random person off the street, clean them up, give them a great marketing team, BOOM you have a new celebrity. It’s all a big awful joke of illusion.

No more rose colored glasses. It’s to the point fandoms and celebrity today is seeing a blue sky but being duped into believing it’s green.

Unfortunately most will never understand the above and never take those glasses off.

This applies to fans, non fans and just the overall population of the world who are willing and unwilling and unaware at how impacted we all are by celebrity culture. A headline makes waves or something goes viral and we ALL stop our lives to read or listen about it and many hop online to discuss and argue with others over various things, not once seeing the reality……you’re taking time out of YOUR life to focus on someone who doesn’t even know you exist, wasting YOUR time discussing crap about someone else who is living their life and getting rich off of you and someone who uses media to stay relevant through…..Y-O-U!

*breaks rose colored glasses* for good.

💔👓

#EnoughIsEnough

Same, An🫶n. Honestly before I was sucked in here, Chris was the ideal guy for me... Ofcourse, Papa was right. He told me once that "I shouldn't place anyone on a pedestal, because anything placed that high, is meant to break."

I've got nothing but love for Chris and his work. But the way this is all spun, real or not, I'm not sure if I can keep adoring him as a person.

Like I've said before, we can't exactly blame Chris, alone for getting into this mess in the first place. But if those breadcrumbing and hinting on his end isn't true (the hope and rumor that he's telling us that anything about the wedding is fake, etc.), An🫶n is right.

He's not a saint, but he's not a demon either. But the thing is, he isn't going to be just Chris Evans, the actor we all love and adore. The actor we'll be happy for when he gets his small victories. Whose dog is one of the best things on the internet during this whole mess right now.

He's also going to be Chris Evans, the guy who "married" a racist, who's friends have baited the entire Fandom. The guy who couldn't save his fans from tearing at each other. The guy who let this get so out of hand, that the one place that should've been safe for us to escape to, and enjoy everything, disappeared in mere months.

I'm planning to stick around, because I know for a fact, a ton of you were here for the fan-made stuff. The fanfics, fanarts, discussions about characters, etc.

I came here for that too. Doesn't mean I'm giving up this whole thing. But I'm going to take time to go back to the fun part. Because honestly, my page has turned into an analysis page😅 it's 70% rant posts about the bullshit pr, and 30% me and my fics...

Bro! I intended to make fucking fics before 250 Followers Celebration comes... But I'm way behind... Partly, because of life. And partly because the second something goes down, I drop nearly everything, and focus so much time and energy on this.

So, I'm not saying drop him or any celeb completely. I'm saying we need to tone down our idolization, because it may have gotten to the point where it isn't healthy.

For the sake of your health, mental and otherwise, Fandom. Take time to enjoy what you love about this Fandom. And please don't say anything about tearing the PR Narrative, because even I have to admit, it takes it's toll.

Again, not backing down, or stepping down. Just giving myself time to take care of me, and spend time with my family while they're still alive.

I don't know if this Christmas season will be the last that I get to spend time with any of them, so I'm going to make sure I live every minute with them. And not stuck in this hole I've dug myself for months, since the wedding announcement.

And you should all do that for yourselves, guys. Take the time, and make it count.

[riftdancing]

𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝑨𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔:

Bold what applies to your character!

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐑. 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐑. 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄

cobblestone streets / lamps shining out of the fog / the warmth of a fireplace / unopened bottles of wine / the tension between what things seem to be and what they truly are / the heady thrill of freedom / panic of losing control / blood on the pavement / guilty vices / top hats and walking sticks / self destruction / old documents tucked away in safes..

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍, 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐔𝐒

rain hitting a windowpane / candles burning low / mountain ranges with white, snowy tops / frenzied obsession / a cemetery at dusk / slaughterhouses / all-consuming thirst for revenge / compassion turned to bitterness and hatred / a sense of duty weighing on your shoulders / inescapable guilt / the frozen wastes of the arctic circle / the feeling of someone breathing down your neck / lightning sparking through the sky.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘

erotic longing / paint on a palette / golden curls and rosy cheeks / the desperation to cling to youth / bees lazily drifting through the grass / hedonism / the blackness of a soul / a dusty attic / hiding secrets / blood pooling on the floorboards / gut-wrenching jealousy / a dimly-lit stage / temptation into corruption.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐈𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑

cliffs rising up into the clouds / someone ambiguously supernatural always lurking / Edinburgh's winding streets / religious zealotry / careful manipulation / family rivalry / a bible written in an indistinguishable language / a face that's always changing and shifting / Scottish lairds / something demonic masquerading as something pure.

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀

letters and diaries /suitors courting a lady / castles nestled deep within forests and mountains / terror of the unknown / the howling of wolves / aristocrats from olden times / a consuming hunger / the dead rising / horses' hooves thundering along a path / blood staining the snow / crucifixes warding off evil.

𝐖𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒

fog over the moors / embracing one who is already dead / a cycle of abuse / vicious snarling dogs / a house left to ruin / a thorn among the roses / toxic love (not rex related btw) / ghosts / the howling wind / flowers that have died and begun to rot / wasting away / a voice you can't identify.

Tagged by: @thefreelanceangel (and MANY others! If you've tagged me don't worry I'm doing different characters for you lot next)

Tagging: YOU! (I know its kind of a cop out, but literally everyone I know... and that's not a whole lot of people have either tagged me or done this already. SO if you want to do this, please do it! Big encouragement. You can tag me too! I'd like to see more characters doing this. c:

[camaro-and-smokes]

Little Siren

I wrote this little fairy tale as a gift for @medusapelagia as part of @harringroveholidayexchange.

You can read it also on AO3 >>

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler (mentioned briefly) Tags: Fairy Tale Style, Mermen, Merman Billy Hargrove, AU Magical Realism, Light Angst, Happy Ending, First Meetings, Feelings Realization Words: 9,516

::::::::::

Once upon a time, in a parallel plane, not quite like in fairy tales but not quite like ours either, was a vast city with skyscrapers climbing towards the sky, glass and metal glinting in the sunlight. The city rose along the shore of a vast sea that was wider than it was deep, but still deep enough to hide secrets under its surface of which stories were told, but no human had ever lived to tell the tale… 

Sunlight filtered through gentle waves and it flickered across Beacher's–Billy's–tanned skin and his red and golden tail. He glided through the water, his powerful tail propelling him forward as his goldfish-like fins rippled gracefully on his sides and the end of his tail. Through the shimmering beams of sunlight, he took in the beauty of the underwater world that surrounded him. 

Schools of silvery fish flashed by, their scales glinting in the light, and delicate strands of kelp swayed back and forth, tickling Billy's sides as he parted them. In the distance, the hulking shadow of a whale drifted past. 

Billy paused in front of a pearliest of pearly shells, floating in place as he brushed back his long blond hair. He gazed at his reflection in it, admiring his long eyelashes, his muscular torso and his strong tail, pursing his lips and winking at himself. He appreciated the beauty of his siren form and the powerful force of his deceitful voice that drew seamen to their demise every time. 

He drifted lazily through the sun-dappled water, webbed fingers trailing over swaying kelp fronds. In the distance above him, the shadowy silhouette of a ship appeared, and his eyes brightened. Swimming closer, he could make out the shape of a fishing boat. A perfect opportunity for some entertainment. 

Billy began to sing, his voice rising eerily through the water. "Come closer, my hearties...let me guide your way..."

His voice echoed like a haunting melody across the waves. On board the ship, the crew paused in their tasks, faces blank. As one, they turned towards the railing, following the irresistible song. 

With a victorious smile, Billy circled beneath the keel, still singing. The crew leaned over the sides, eyes glazed and vacant. “Come, come, just a little closer...”

The men were already climbing over the railings, ready to jump into the ocean, and Billy laughed victoriously, breaking the spell he'd cast. 

Shouting in alarm, the sailors stopped and climbed back onto the deck. 

Billy breached the surface and watched in amusement as the crew scurried about on the deck. Humans were fun to toy with.

But he had slowly grown tired of these games since they always ended up the same way. Also, he didn’t want to be forever trapped under the eye of his ever watchful and harsh father, the King of the Merfolk.

He’d tried to flee many times. The furthest he’d ever gone from his father’s realm was the border of the other seas that met theirs. He’d never crossed to the other side, for those seas were cold and their waters murky, and Billy had realised that he didn’t like that. His father had always been gleeful about his return, telling him how he’d known that his son wouldn’t be built for such harsh living conditions. 

Knowing there was no other place to go, Billy had swallowed his pride and tried to do his best to settle for life in this sea. 

But when a big, hardcover ship, the like Billy had never seen before, had sunk and laid to rest on a ledge in a deep trench where Billy often spent his time exploring the world that was so different from the waters he lived in, where sun still shone through the waves, his desire to experience something new had been sparked anew. 

He’d spend hours upon hours feasting on the decks with his fellow sirens, not believing that so many humans could travel on one ship. But when the feast ended, he’d explored the ship’s insides and the strange structures and materials that were on board. 

And there, in one cabin, he’d seen it. This strange thing, as if several leaves were put together, filled with scribbles and displays of the human world. He’d admired the different depictions of humans and their world in it, colourful and strange.

He’d kept it hidden and taken it out only when he was alone. He was sure no other siren would understand his interest over the life on land above, so he treasured it and kept it as his own secret. When it eventually dissolved, Billy remembered each depiction by heart. They filled his mind when he wasn’t exploring the sunken ship, and consumed by the miracles of the human world, he became more convinced day by day that he wanted to experience the world above the waves for himself.

Billy swam further from the ship and breached the surface, looking at the distance where a sparkling skyline of a vast city rose along the shore. The large structures climbed towards the sky, glinting, as tall as the deepest depth Billy had ever dared to dive to. The low rumble of strange sounds and voices echoed across the water. 

What a world that must be , Billy thought wistfully. So full of life, so busy and chaotic . And somewhere in those glittering towers were people living out their lives. That was where he yearned to be. He longed to be among the people, to get lost in the crowds. To laugh, to cry, to live as the humans did. 

“I'll find a way,” he whispered to himself. "Soon, I will." 

For now, he could only observe the alluring city from afar. But he was determined to uncover the secrets the shore hid behind it. He would forge a connection between these two worlds, no matter the cost.

Invigorated, Billy dove back down into the cool blue depths. The image of the vibrant city remained in his mind as he swam, fuelling his growing resolve. An opportunity to make his dreams a reality would arise. 

And when that moment came, he would seize it without hesitation.

Billy swam through the swaying kelp forests, lost in thought. How does one trade fins for feet? How to cross that unfathomable divide between the realms?

In the distance, at the bottom of the sea, he could see the looming silhouette of a sunken ship. He realised, with gathering excitement, that what the wreck hid inside would offer him the chance he so much yearned for. Forgetting all the warnings of never to approach the shipwreck, he dove towards it, sunlight rapidly fading around him.

The ancient wreck was home to the legendary sea witch Morgana. Few dared approach her lair, but the rumours said she possessed power beyond any siren's wildest dreams. Power over life and death itself. 

Billy hesitated, conflicted, but for a mere moment. The longing to walk on land, to truly live as the humans did, burned bright inside him. This was the way. Taking a deep breath, Billy swam inside the wreck, shivering as coldness enveloped him. 

Strange plants glowed inside the rotting hull, casting an eerie shimmer around him. At the heart of it laid a chamber shrouded in shadow. "Come in, come in, little siren," a smooth voice purred. "I've been expecting you."

Morgana melted out of the darkness, eyes glinting. She was at once mesmerizingly beautiful and utterly despicable, with bright green, piercing eyes. Magic crackled at her fingertips.

Billy steeled himself. "I wish to live among humans. Can your magic make it so?"

The witch smiled slowly, sensing an opportunity. "For a price, my dear. For a price." She circled around Billy like a shark, her long black hair billowing around her and her floating umbrella tail with its poisonous tentacles under her. "You have a beautiful voice, little siren. Humans do anything just to hear you sing. Perhaps you could use it to get something I desire."

Billy lifted his chin defiantly. "And what is it you want?"

"A trifle, really," Morgana purred. "I shall grant you legs to walk among humans. But in return, you must bring me the tears of a human in love, freely given. Do this, and you can remain on land for the rest of your existence. Fail, and you will belong to me, forever."

Billy scowled, his bravado unwavering. To enchant a human and to make them believe their tears were of true love with his voice would be simple enough. Without another thought, Billy declared, “I accept your bargain.”

Morgana's smile turned cruel. "I thought you might, little siren." She began chanting in a strange tongue. 

The water around Billy churned violently. 

"One fortnight," Morgana said. "Bring me the tears or lose your freedom forever."

Billy gritted his teeth against the pain. When it subsided, a pair of human legs had replaced his shining red and golden tail. Wide-eyed, he looked up at Morgana, who was smiling a toothy smile, bearing her pin sharp teeth. 

“Go, my little siren, go fill your desire,” the witch croaked. “Go, walk among the crowds and fill the pact.”

Billy kicked upwards, breaching the surface. The city gleamed before him, impossibly big and bright. A cocky grin spread across his face as he imagined luring a puny human under his spell. His siren powers had never failed him before. Why should this be any different? 

"Finding some fool to declare their true love will be child's play," he boasted to himself. "I'll have those humans eating out of my hand."

When he arrived in the shallows, a clock tower chimed in the distance as if heralding his arrival. Billy took a deep breath, savouring his first lungful of the human realm. Exhilaration flooded through him. No matter what trials lay ahead, he would let nothing stop him from experiencing life on land. The time to put Morgana's bargain to the test had come.

But in all his arrogance, Billy hadn’t spared a thought for the sea witch's reputation for cunning and trickery. 

***

Billy crawled out from the sea foam and to the shore. His steps were first a little unsteady, feet unsure on the sandy shore as he stumbled on land for the first time. His cocky grin returned as he looked at himself, standing on the sand, wearing a red shirt, blue jeans and boots, the human clothes Morgana had granted him - and a dash of little magic that dried it all in a blink of an eye.

He started towards the city and the closer to the street on the side of the beach he walked, the more natural his feet and this new way of moving felt. And with each step, he was more convinced that he was ready to embrace whatever fate had in store.

With head held high, he imagined the fun he would have in this new world.

As he got closer to the broad walk, the sounds of the city engulfed him. Strange machines honked incessantly as they sped by on the street. Piercing wails sounded in the distance. The chatter of a thousand sounds melded into a dizzying din. 

Billy smiled and his eyes widened as he took in the towering structures reaching towards the sky. Their surfaces reflected the vibrant, bright lights that adorned every street. He closed his eyes as he took in a deep breath through his nose. The scent of pinching fumes and food overwhelmed his senses. 

He walked in a daze down the bustling streets, bombarded by sensations foreign to him. The shoes and the hard stone felt strange and unyielding beneath his feet, so unlike the soft sand of his underwater home. He ran his hands along the colourful walls, mesmerised by the colours of the ornaments and garments on display. Humans were standing by tables holding foods that smelled heavenly. Billy didn’t know what the foods were, but the scent alone made his mouth water. He had smelled nothing so tantalising. Some lively rhythmic sounds poured out of a doorway, blending with different ones from another one. 

Billy's eyes darted around, still struggling to take it all in. He had seen depictions of the towering structures in the leafy thing, and the metal machines barreling down the roads, but it was all so unfamiliar to him, too. There were no seashells or coral here, just hard rock and the same shiny metals and glass he’d seen in the sunken ship.

It was marvellous. Overwhelming. He had dreamed of this world for so long and everything in it filled all those dreams and more.

He spotted a young woman walking by herself down the sidewalk. Perfect. He would fill the pact at once and lure her with his siren song to shed the tears of true love for him right there on the spot. He opened his mouth, ready to let the magical notes flow. 

But only silence emerged. He strained, pushing with all his might, but not a single sound came. Panic rose in his chest. He grabbed at his throat, clawing desperately, willing his vocal cords to vibrate. Still nothing. 

A realisation dawned on him: Morgana had tricked him and stolen his voice.

Overcome with shock and despair, realising the cunning plan of the ancient witch, he felt dread creeping up his spine. How could he fulfil his part of the pact without his voice? All of a sudden, the seemingly simple task was out of his reach.

He collapsed against a lamppost, hands shaking. He had been foolish to trust her, naïve to think he could outwit the witch.

Now here he was, on land at last, but trapped, surrounded by wonders he could not communicate in. No voice meant no song. And no song meant no way to lure humans in.

He slammed his fist against the pole in frustration. The pain barely registered through his despair. 

The dazzling city that had so enthralled him now seemed to mock his predicament.

A street musician was strumming his guitar on the street corner. Billy let the melody wash over him, beautiful and bittersweet all at once. A couple strolled by, laughing and chatting animatedly. He gazed after them, a profound yearning rising within. How he envied their easy intimacy. A little girl holding her mother's hand, licking something white and melting in a cone and grinning from ear to ear. 

Such simple human pleasures, yet they cut him to the core. He was surrounded by life, by joy, by togetherness. And yet utterly excluded, the possibilities of him being able to join it all very slim.

The weight of this reality sank upon him. He was a mere visitor here, an outsider peering into a world that was not his own. Without his voice he had no way to fulfil his pact.

His fate was sealed. Morgana had won even before his journey had started, and he would have to return to the sea as her servant.

All he could do now was to try to find solace in the thought that at least he had a fortnight to wander the streets and soak himself in the wonders of the human world. 

And maybe, just maybe –a desperate and probably useless maybe–he could find a human who would fall in love with him in such a short time despite him being mute and shed the tears of true love he needed.

***

The street corner was bathed in the golden hour glow, pedestrians hurrying home as the day wound down. Steve strummed his guitar, fingers dancing across the strings, drawing out a melancholy melody. He played with his eyes closed, lost in the music. 

When he opened them to thank the bypasser, who tossed a few coins to his open guitar case on the ground, a flash of blond hair caught his attention and he glanced up.

A young man was leaning heavily against a lamppost, face etched with despair. Steve studied the stranger, taking in his striking, yet haggard, appearance. Steve could let it be, not pay attention and continue playing, but something about the man called out to him. 

Setting his guitar to its case and taking it with him, he approached the man with a gentle smile. Up close, the man's features were almost otherworldly. Long, blond hair fell on his shoulders and the bluest of blue eyes returned Steve's gaze, swimming with pain and fear.

“Hey,” Steve asked, “You okay?”

Tears falling on his face, the young man opened his mouth, but no words came out. 

Understanding dawned on Steve. "You can't speak?" he asked kindly. 

The man looked at him, frowning a little and cocking his head, as if he didn’t understand what Steve had said.

“You don’t speak English?”

The man still just looked at him, seemingly confused.

Steve placed his free hand on his chest. “I’m Steve. Are you new in town?”

A nod, a hesitant one.

Steve's smile broadened. “So you do understand some English?”

Another nod, more confident this time.

“Do you need help? I mean, are you alright?”

A slight shook of head.

Steve frowned and pondered for a moment. “You know, let me take you to a café and see if we find some way to communicate.” He held out his hand. “Come.”

The mute stranger eyed Steve for a long moment before accepting his hand. His grip was icy cold, but Steve didn't flinch.

Billy was stunned when he realised he could understand the man who had introduced himself as Steve. At least Morgana had given him that as a tool to somehow make sense of this new world. Maybe the situation wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined. Though Morgana had probably let him have all this, only because she knew that he’d be hers in the end. That made his stomach twist. No, she’d done it only to make his pain worse.

After a short walk, Steve steered them to a cosy café. The fresh aroma of roasted coffee enveloped them as they stepped in, and Steve ordered them each a coffee. 

They got their drinks and sat at a table by the large front window overlooking the street. 

Steve watched the quiet stranger examine the dark liquid with intent and took a sip. When he grimaced immediately at the bitter taste, Steve realised he’d just assumed the man drank coffee. “I’m so sorry! I probably should’ve ordered you a tea. I’ll get you one now,” he said and got up from the table to get one.

When he returned with a green tea, he sighed with relief when the stranger seemed to be happier with his new drink. Steve dug his jacket pockets and found a note and a pen. He handed them to stranger and asked, “Can you write your name here?” .

Billy examined the things Steve gave to him, not quite understanding what they were for. The sheet of something was similar as in the leafy thing, but it was empty. He took the stick in his hand and jumped a little on his seat when he pressed the nub on the other end and a sharp-looking edge popped out from the other one.

Seeing the man’s reaction, Steve reached out his hand and asked, “Can you write?” He took the pen and wrote his own name on the paper. "Like this?"

Billy had played with the sand on the shore when he’d sometimes gone there in the night time. He’d drawn shapes into it with his finger, but they’d always vanished with the tide. The only way he’d ever communicated was through speech and singing. He’d only seen similar tiny shapes Steve had made on the sheet in the thing that had been dissolved into the sea.

He dropped the stick on the table, frustrated, and looked away, crossing his arms. Of course he couldn’t communicate that way either.

“Hey,” Steve said softly. “It’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

While Steve wondered in his mind how he could communicate with the stranger, he talked to the man about things that were familiar to him: music and art, both his and others. It seemed to calm the stranger, to hear about things that didn’t remind him of his current situation. The stranger listened intently, eyes flickering between Steve and the world outside. Steve noticed the freckles that dusted the man’s cheekbones and the impossibly long lashes that surrounded the ocean blue eyes. Steve found himself getting lost in them. And even though the man couldn’t respond in words, his shy smiles and nods encouraged Steve to continue. 

As Billy sipped the strangely nice and warm liquid Steve had called tea, Steve kept up a steady stream of chatter about things unknown to Billy. The music was something Billy understood, of course, but he wasn’t sure what art specifically referred to, though. He was hoping Steve would show him what it was.

After they had finished their drinks, Steve still hadn’t yet come up with a way to communicate with the stranger. He was getting frustrated when it suddenly dawned on him and he smiled. “Hey, even if you can’t speak or write, I think there’s one way we can communicate, at least I hope so.” He stood up and reached out his hand again. “Come.” 

Exhilaration sparked in the stranger's blue eyes and he flashed a gorgeous smile at Steve.

Steve led the mute young man through the chaotic streets, gesturing excitedly at the vibrant city around them. He had decided to take the man to see a street that was well known for its stunning art pieces and graffiti. 

When they arrived, Steve looked at the man and saw him looking at the art curiously. "Check out that mural. Aren’t the colours incredible?" Steve exclaimed, pointing to a sprawling artwork on the side of one building. 

The stranger's eyes widened as he took in the blend of paints depicting fantastical creatures and landscapes. Especially interested he seemed to be about any creatures that were depicted to be living under the sea. Steve grinned at his new friend's awe. "The art here is something else. Each piece tells a story." 

Steve looked as the stranger seemed to find something specific further back in the wall, deeper in the alley, and he followed him to see what he’d found. When the stranger stopped, he pointed at the wall with a wide smile on his face for the first time. Then he pointed at himself.

There was a massive painting of the sea on the wall. All kinds of fishes, sharks, shellfish - and in the middle of it a gorgeous, blonde mermaid with a golden and red tail.

It felt as if Steve’s eyebrows had reached his hairline when they rose in surprise.“It’s yours, right? You painted it?” he asked.

The stranger shook his head and pointed at the mermaid again, then at himself.

Steve looked at the mermaid, then back at the stranger. He couldn’t deny there was something very similar in the two, but they didn’t exactly look alike. Steve had heard of mermaids, of course, everyone had. It was just that when someone had met them, they'd never been left alive to confirm if the stories were true. In those stories, mermaids weren’t beautiful innocent creatures, they were evil and hunted humans for sport. They were on top of their food chain.

But the stranger’s strangely captivating beauty hadn’t gone unnoticed by Steve, and it was as if he was already bewitched even though he had just met the man. 

A mermaid walking on the ground, though, with two feet instead of a fish's tail, that was a bit over the top. Magic like that didn’t exist.

And yet, for some reason, Steve wanted to believe that it was possible.

Instead of wondering out loud, he asked, “You modelled for it?”

Billy had hoped that Steve would’ve understood that it was him in the picture on the wall. He looked at it again and wondered if the artist had seen him swimming somwhere. They’d had to have. He looked at the painting wistfully, wishing so badly he had his voice back. Wishing he wasn’t locked in like this. Wishing he could fulfil his part of the pact soon.

When the stranger didn't answer - of course he didn't, he was mute - Steve asked, “Uh…you know, I was wondering…Would you be interested in seeing my art? My studio is here close by.” He blushed and looked down at the ground. “Uh, I don’t mean anything like…umm…I honestly mean art. If you’re interested.”

***

Steve unlocked the door to his studio apartment and led Billy inside. The space was small but bursting with colour and creativity. Pictures created on strange rectangular sheets leaned against every wall, covered in vivid paintings and sketches.

Billy's eyes widened as he took in Steve's expansive collection of work.

Steve set down his guitar and rushed to clear one chair that was hiding under a pile of clothes. “Uh, I’m sorry. It’s a bit crammed and messy. I wasn’t expecting any guests. Make yourself at home,” he said with a grin. He went to the counter and set the water to boil to make them some tea. 

Billy wandered the room, marvelling at the variety of Steve's art. There were street scenes that weren’t clear when looked at close, blurry like water when the sand from the seabed rose to muck it, yet reminding something Billy had just seen outside. And when he looked at them further away, the scene became clearer. There were paintings of incredible dreamscapes that made little sense at all and all kinds of abstract figures swirling in motion. He could see that rich colours, movement and energy connected all the pieces.

Steve walked to Billy and handed him a mug of the hot liquid he’d had earlier. “I hope you like this. I had only white tea.” Steve nodded towards a bigger piece Billy had been staring at, shining in all the shades of blue, turquoise, and gold. “So, what do you think?”

Billy looked at Steve, and his smile widened. He pointed at all the paintings on the wall and then tapped his hand on his chest, then repeated the gesture, hoping Steve would understand that he was in awe of all the beauty surrounding him.

“You like them?” Steve asked. 

Billy nodded.

A faint blush rose on Steve’s cheeks and he went to explain enthusiastically what had inspired him to paint the bigger piece.

Billy looked at Steve as he told about why he’d chosen the colours and what he’d wanted to express with it. It was clear to Billy that Steve was enthusiastic about his art. It made something warm and fuzzy fill Billy’s chest, to see such passion towards something. He hid his own smile and warming cheeks behind the mug and took a sip of the sweet tea. It was a new sensation to drink something this warm and sweet at the same time. But it tasted good and felt even better when it travelled through his insides, leaving a warm feeling behind. Just like he noticed the feeling about Steve doing. Steve wasn’t something Billy wanted to eat. With him, he wanted…companionship.

Steve turned to look at the stranger and met a gaze that was almost…adoring? He felt his cheeks heating. “I actually have one piece I’m working on right now. Would you like to watch me working on it?” he asked.

When the stranger nodded enthusiastically, Steve set down his mug, took off his jacket, and set up an easel by the window and set a canvas that had already been painted on it. After squeezing out paints in a rainbow of hues on a plate, he began painting, glancing periodically at the stranger.

Billy sat on a paint-speckled stool, observing intently as Steve's brush flew across the canvas. With broad strokes and fine details, an image slowly emerged - an interpretation of the street with all the murals and the mermaid. Steve had captured the soul of this place through his unique lens.

As Steve added a figure with blonde hair to the painting, he noticed the stranger engrossed in the process unfolding before him, his eyes shining with fascination and admiration. Steve painted on, feeling inspired by having such a captive audience.

After a long, comfortable silence, Steve set down his brush. "Well, what do you think so far?" he asked with a shy smile. The blond man broke into a broad smile. His expression said it all - the piece thoroughly impressed him. Steve's heart swelled with pride and – surprisingly – with affection for the stranger. He let out a small laugh at the hypnotic effect his painting seemed to have. "Want to try it?" he asked, handing the man his brush.

Billy took the brush hesitantly and examined it while Steve changed into a blank canvas on the easel. He dipped the bristles in paint, following Steve’s actions he’d witnessed a moment earlier, and brought them to the canvas, but hesitated, unsure of how to begin, acutely aware of Steve's gaze on him. 

Sensing his apprehension, Steve moved behind Billy and gently took his hand, guiding it in long, sweeping strokes across the canvas. "Don't think too much," Steve murmured in his ear. "Let the colours and shapes come from within."

Steve's touch was electric, sending shivers down Billy's spine. Emboldened, Billy closed his eyes and let his hand glide freely with Steve gently, just holding his hand, letting Billy make the strokes. Steve let him choose the colours and hues of turquoise, emerald, and gold took form beneath Billy’s brush, blending and swirling with vitality. Slowly, an abstract seascape formed on the canvas.

When Billy finally felt brave enough, he glanced at Steve. Steve was staring at the picture before them with an intensity that made his heart race. 

Steve turned to look at Billy. "You're a natural," he said softly.

Billy flushed and ducked his head shyly, but breaking into a radiant smile. 

“You should sign it,” Steve urged, pointing his signature on the piece he just painted himself. “It’s your art.”

Billy dipped his finger in the paint and drew outlines of a fish in the corner of the painting.

“Sea is close to you, isn’t it?” Steve asked quietly.

Billy felt a pang of sorrow in his chest as he nodded a little.

“Can I call you…Atlantis? Since I don’t know what your real name is.”

Somehow, Billy knew what Atlantis was, an ancient, mythical, sunken city. And somehow he could feel a deep connection with it – he was a mythical creature of ancient origin and for now sunken and stuck somewhere he didn’t know how to return from the way he used to be. His smile faltered a little when he nodded.

Steve smiled and reached out his hand to Billy. “Nice to meet you, Atlantis.”

Earlier, it had felt good to hold Steve’s hand, so Billy took it. The physical connection with Steve made the weight on his chest lift a little. Maybe his last two weeks of freedom wouldn’t be so bad, at least.

Later, after Steve had cleaned the brushes and set their paintings to dry, he made them some soup – another new experience for Billy – and while they ate, Steve talked more about his aspirations, his inspirations and hopes. Billy listened to each word intently, admiring the passion Steve seemed to apply to everything in his life. A warm feeling blossomed in Billy's chest. Steve was someone who saw life itself as a work of art to be embraced with an open heart. Maybe, just maybe… Billy thought to himself. Maybe Steve could be the one.

At some point, Steve looked at his watch and then out the window into the darkness that had fallen. “Oh, wow, the time has really flown. Where are you staying? I can walk you home.”

Billy turned to look away, ashamed. He didn’t even have anywhere to go for the night, and it was a pure chance that he’d met Steve in the first place and fed him. Only now he realised he was truly in a bad situation.

Steve looked at Atlantis’ pained expression and bit his cheek for a moment. “You know…you could stay here. For the night. Until we find you a place to stay.”

Atlantis cocked his head, looking miserable.

“I mean it. You can sleep in the bed. I’ll clean the mess from the couch and sleep there. You’ll be safe.”

Billy felt gratitude fill his chest. Steve was already amazing, and he just seemed to get better. It felt both good and so, so painful at the same time. Billy placed both his hands over his heart, hoping to sign his gratitude with it.

Steve smiled. After a while he spoke, “While you’re going to stay here…” he started hesitantly, “there’s a place I want to show you.”

Billy looked at him curiously and nodded.

Steve led Billy to the corridor and up a narrow stairwell at the end of it. They emerged to a rooftop overlook surrounded by a cool night breeze. 

The city lights twinkled like stars as the view opened before them, and Billy paused, taking in the scene before him. The skyline glittering against the inky sky, the streets below pulsed with life.

Steve guided Atlantis to the edge, and they sat, shoulders touching, as the world unfolded beneath them. Atlantis' eyes were wide, reflecting the dazzling lights. His lips parted in silent wonder and Steve couldn't help but smile, knowing he was seeing this view for the first time.

Billy was enthralled by the magical scene that spread beyond the horizon. Suddenly, he felt safe, out of Morgana’s reach. Here she couldn’t touch him, Steve wouldn’t let him. He leaned into Steve a little, almost accidentally. And Steve didn’t pull away.

Soon Steve slid an arm around Billy, pulling him close. 

Atlantis snuggling close to Steve was more than Steve had ever dared to hope for when he'd first noticed those gorgeous but haunted eyes across the street. He looked at the Atlantis and saw his face being serene as he gazed out at the city. Steve rubbed Atlantis’ arm as he snuggled closer. Up here in their private world, in that moment, something stirred within Steve. Something he’d been looking for for a long time.

Up there, above the city, the rest of the world fell away. No words were needed, just the soothing rhythm of their breaths mingling together. 

***

For the first few days Steve had been looking for a place for Atlantis to stay but the man had no money, no identification, nothing. As if he had appeared from thin air. Steve didn't of course mind hosting Atlantis at his home, he was happy for the company and each day feeling a little bit something else towards Atlantis, too.

Billy was grateful for Steve's help, even if it didn’t exactly sit right. As the days flew by, he knew his time on land was soon coming to an end, and he wouldn’t be Steve’s burden for a long time. So, he tried to enjoy whatever Steve wanted to show him and he immersed himself in everything so that he’d have memories he could cherish, something Morgana could never take away from him.

They spend their time painting, walking around the city, Steve occasionally taking his guitar and playing to Billy at home, and in the street corner where they had met. 

There were small things in Steve that Billy found himself being caught. Steve’s smile that lit up his entire face when he was happy, the way his brows knitted together when he concentrated on painting or composing a new song. Or the way his gaze lingered on Billy whenever he thought Billy wouldn’t notice. Billy found his feelings towards Steve grow day by day, which at the same time was the best and the worst.

When Billy’s time on land was coming to a close, Steve told him he had a concert in a bar close by and asked if he would like to join him. Of course he would. He wanted to experience everything he could while he still had time.

***

The smoky air of the crowded bar pulsated with energy as Steve played and sang on the stage. He was playing a similar guitar he’d played earlier, but it was now such that it could be heard over the crowd, as was his voice that came through the black boxes hanging from the ceiling.

Billy sat alone at the end of the bar, transfixed. Steve's fingers flew across the guitar strings, weaving melodies that seemed to cast a spell over the audience. His voice was husky and rich, dripping with soulful emotion. Billy studied Steve's face, taking in his closed eyes and the way his body swayed, lost in the music. That was Steve's gift – to transport people with his sound. Billy had seen nothing like it. Under the stage lights, Steve seemed to glow. His talent radiated from him in shimmering waves. Billy was captivated, drawn like a moth to Steve's flame. 

As Steve launched into a new song, the audience seemed to recognize it and roared their approval. But Billy hardly noticed them. His focus stayed locked on Steve, whose presence dominated the dingy room. The outside world faded away. In this moment, all that existed for Billy was Steve and his music. Billy leaned forward, mesmerised. He had felt nothing like this before. There was something about Steve that called to him profoundly he didn't understand. In Steve's music and his art, Billy finally saw true human passion, raw and real. For the first time, he felt he was seeing past the surface into Steve's soul. 

When the song ended, the audience exploded into rapturous applause. Steve opened his eyes, grinning and raising his hand in thanks. All Billy could see was the light in Steve's eyes. 

The applause died down as Steve stepped off stage. Billy sat motionless, still lost in the performance's spell, as Steve walked towards him. 

Billy was jarred back to reality by a commotion near the entrance. The crowd parted to make way for a petite, beautiful young woman. He watched with curiosity as she sauntered up to the bar, the crowd's eyes following her every move. She had short brown, slightly curly hair and she wore a skintight dress that flaunted her shape. Her looks weren’t nothing special to Billy, though, but she carried herself with overconfidence, as if she owned the place that commanded attention.

The woman ordered a drink and turned, surveying the room through hooded eyes. Her gaze settled on Steve, who was now halfway through the crowd towards Billy, stopped by people here and there to chat to him shortly. A sly smile spread across her painted lips. Drink in hand, she slinked through the dispersing crowd toward Steve. 

Steve's back was turned as he spoke with a person in the crowd when she tapped him on the shoulder. Steve turned around and looked at her, surprised."Nancy?" he asked, incredulous. "I thought you moved to Los Angeles."

Nancy gave a throaty laugh. "Oh, I'm back now," she purred, pressing closer to Steve. "Did you miss me?"

Steve took a step back. "It's been a long time, Nancy," he said carefully. "I wasn't expecting to see you." 

Nancy trailed a manicured nail down Steve's chest. "Well, I'm here now," she said suggestively. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

Steve removed her hand. "Uh, I'm not sure that's a good idea." He glanced around, trying to find Atlantis’ gaze.

Billy watched the exchange intently. He didn't know who the woman was, but he could sense the encounter being uncomfortable for Steve. A protective instinct flared within him. Steve deserved better than this woman's advances. Billy continued watching from the shadows as the woman persisted in her pursuit of Steve. Though he couldn't hear their words over the din of the crowded bar, her body language was unmistakable. She stood too close, frequently touching his arm or chest, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Steve seemed to maintain a polite facade, but something was clearly between the two, something Billy couldn’t quite place.

Billy felt an unexpected pang in his chest. He didn't understand where these feelings were coming from. After all, he barely knew Steve. And yet...witnessing this intimate interaction with the woman stirred something in him. Was it jealousy? Longing? A hollow sense of loss at something he never had?

Before Billy could examine the emotions further, the woman made her boldest move yet. With a coy smile, she grabbed Steve's face in both hands and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Steve's eyes went wide, his body rigid at first, then closing his eyes and relaxing into something that made Billy’s breath caught in his throat. 

The chatter and music of the bar faded away, narrowing Billy’s focus to the couple locked in their embrace. He thought of his own longing to experience Steve's lips, to be the recipient of such unrestrained passion. The ache of envy and despair constricted his heart.

But stronger than anything was the sadness of a dream deferred. Billy had allowed himself to hope, however briefly, that a true connection with Steve was possible. 

That hope now lay shattered at his feet, the pieces cutting deep into his soul.

Billy thought of the bargain he had made with Morgana - to collect the tears of true love or remain her prisoner. He felt Steve slipping through his fingers and he realised the impossibility of that task. He had been foolish to think someone like Steve could ever fall in love with him. Steve was an artist, a free spirit who followed his passions. And Billy? He was merely a siren, cursed to lure people with his voice and beauty alone. Without his voice he had nothing to offer.

With a heavy heart, he got up and walked towards the exit, his steps heavy with sorrow. He’d hoped the night air would clear his mind, but when he reached the street outside, his emotions only swirled within him – regret, anger and grief. If he returned to the sea now, he would spend the rest of his life as Morgana's captive, never again to experience freedom. But what choice did he have? Steve clearly didn’t love him.

There was no way he could complete his impossible task. And remaining here for the last few days would just remind him constantly of what he could never have – it might just break him completely. 

With a pained exhale, Billy turned his feet toward the shore. It was better to end this charade now. 

Steve had momentarily fallen to the familiar feeling of Nancy’s lips on his. It had first felt like a memory came back alive, then reminded him of the venom she carried in her embrace. He finally pulled away from the kiss, his expression morphing into one of shock and disbelief. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Atlantis’ hunched figure retreating outside the front door. Steve's heart dropped as he realised Atlantis had witnessed Nancy's sudden advance. “Atlantis, wait!" he called out, pushing Nancy aside. He had to explain, had to make sure Atlantis understood this wasn't what it looked like.

Nancy grasped his arm. "Steve," she said, "we need to talk about this."

Steve tried to shake her off, eyes fixed on the door where he’d last seen Atlantis. "There's nothing to talk about," he insisted. How could she have done this, jeopardising the one real connection he'd made since he they broke up?

Nancy persisted, her perfectly manicured nails digging into Steve's skin. "You belong with me, don't you see that?" she hissed.

Steve wrenched his arm away, temper rising. "All I see is you ruining the best thing that's happened to me in a long time," he bit back. 

Nancy recoiled as if struck. 

Steve didn't wait for her response. He pushed through the crowd, desperate to catch Atlantis before it was too late. He burst out of the bar doors, frantically scanning the dark street. "Atlantis!" he called out, his voice raw with desperation. He caught a glimpse of blond hair in the distance, a slender figure moving with purpose towards the shore. "Atlantis, wait!"

Steve broke into a run, his boots slapping against the pavement as he gave chase. He had to reach Atlantis. He had to explain somehow before it was too late. Nancy’s kiss had meant nothing. It was just a cruel trick played by his manipulative ex. He had to make this right somehow. He couldn't lose the one person who he was in love with.

***

Billy ran down the darkened street towards the shore, tears falling from his eyes and the night air cold against his damp cheeks. How could he have been so foolish, thinking someone like Steve could ever care for a creature like him? He was an aberration, an outsider – he would never truly belong in this world. 

The sound of waves crashing against the shore grew louder, and Billy pictured the vast ocean before him, the depths that were familiar to him unlike where he was now. He thought of Morgana's cunning smile as she had offered her bargain, the one that now felt like a trap snapping shut around him.

He had hoped this adventure on land would bring him purpose, something new and exciting, maybe become his life. But in the end, apparently all roads for him lead back to the sea. Just not exactly to the place he could call home. Instead, a cold, lightless place was waiting for him. There he would waste away in chains, with nothing but his shattered dreams of freedom to sustain him. 

The shoreline was just ahead now. Billy slowed, gazing out at the black water. He could now shed this false skin, reclaim his true siren form. Accept his fate and enter the gilded cage beneath the waves. 

Steve tried to run faster when he saw Atlantis vanish into the darkness of the shore. His lungs were burning, but he didn't slow. He couldn't lose Atlantis, not like this. "Please, stop!" he cried breathlessly. He was closing the distance, the hunched figure of Atlantis becoming clearer ahead of him. Steve poured every ounce of energy into his legs, desperate to catch up before Atlantis did something drastic.

He had to reach him and to tell him the truth: that he cared for him in a way he'd never cared for anyone before. That these last few days with him had awoken something in Steve's soul, a feeling so powerful it terrified him. "Atlantis, stop! You need to hear what I have to say!" Steve begged as he ran on.

The waves crashed gently against the sandy shore as Billy sat at the water's edge, his feet in the water. He looked at how his feet melted together, his legs following shortly, and a brilliant red and golden tail emerged before his eyes, each scale shimmering in the pale moonlight. 

He stared out at the horizon, his expression distant. This would be the last time he gazed upon the human world before returning to his underwater realm forever, bound eternally as Morgana's servant.

He could already feel her pull on his tail. Her tentacles may not yet be there for real, but him knowing he’d be wrapped into their eternal embrace made him feel them in his bones.

His hope for finding something else, something new and exciting, had come to the end his father had always told him. Nothing good could ever happen to him, so he might as well get it over with. He turned and pulled himself into the sea, enveloped into the cool sea water, ready to dive, when he heard someone shouting.

"Atlantis!" 

Footsteps thudded in the sand as Steve was running towards Billy along the beach, dark hair blowing in the breeze. Billy's heart clenched at the sight. Why couldn’t Steve just let him go? Yet, he remained in the shallows, waiting for a miracle to happen.

"Atlantis!" Steve cried as he stumbled to a halt, chest heaving. "I had to find you, to tell you..."

Billy regarded him solemnly, taking in Steve’s dishevelled appearance. 

Steve walked into the water to Billy and wrapped his arms around him, starting to pull him back to the shore. But Billy broke the embrace easily with one kick of his strong tail. 

Steve looked at Atlantis, surprised, and then at the water. It was dark, so he couldn’t see anything, but he could’ve sworn that a big fish had just passed him by. Then he slowly looked up and back at Atlantis, when a realisation hit him. The blond hair, striking beauty, inability to speak, no identification… “You’re a…merman, aren’t you?”

Billy turned his gaze away from Steve, ashamed. Then, after a moment, he raised the end of his tail out of the water.

Steve looked at Atlantis, his mouth agape. Emotions inside him were churning. He was in love with…a magical being. It couldn’t be right. How could he ever have anything with a being that was from a whole another realm? His heart was tearing into pieces when Atlantis swam back to him, taking his hand.

Billy pressed Steve’s hand on his chest, over his heart. Then he placed his other hand on Steve’s heart.

Steve let out a suffocated sob. “But how? How did you… You have a tail, not legs…”

Tears were prickling under Billy’s eyes. He wanted to tell Steve everything, but he was still bound by Morgana's spell, so he couldn't.

A smile spread across Steve’s face. “I know it’s impossible. Incredible.” He shook his head. “Unbelievable. And yet…” He cupped Billy’s chin in his hand, the touch urgent yet tender.

Steve leaned in, eyelashes fluttering shut as his lips met Billy’s in a kiss that spoke all the words Billy could not say - and the world fell away; there were only the two of them suspended in this perfect moment.

Steve's lips were warm and soft against Billy’s, igniting a spark of electricity that travelled through his entire body. At first, Billy froze for a moment, stunned by the sudden passionate display. But as Steve's hand slid to the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss, Billy felt himself melting into the embrace. His eyes drifted shut, and he kissed Steve back, all his loneliness, doubt, and fear seeming to wash away.

When they finally broke apart for air, Steve rested his forehead against Billy’s, both gasping softly.

Suddenly, every part of Billy started screaming. He felt Morgana’s pull for real, her tentacles grasping his tail tightly and yanking him away from Steve.

“You’re not getting away from me!” her voice bellowed all the way from the depths and penetrating the surface. “You’re mine!”

Billy couldn’t tell what he needed from Steve, and he felt his stomach drop. He had been so close, but of course this would be how it ended.

“No!” Steve yelped and dove after Atlantis, reaching him and wrapping his arms tightly around him. “I’m not letting you go!” he said, “You can’t go.” 

The tears that had been brimming on Billy’s eyes fell as he could feel the pull from the depths becoming harder to fight back. He shook his head, trying to get Steve to let go.

It was then, when a big, fat tear fell on Steve’s cheek, soon joined by another, and another. The tears travelled from his cheeks down to his neck and into the sea. But one, two, three of them fell onto Billy’s hand that Steve was holding, the tears glimmering in the moonlight like liquid crystal. 

“You can’t go, because I love you,” Steve whispered.

Billy watched in awe as Steve’s tears ran down on his skin. He could feel their purity, the selfless love from which they sprang, as they trickled down on his arm and into the sea.

As the droplets diffused into the seawater, Billy felt a shiver run through his body. Like chains crumbling away, Morgana’s hold over him weakened. He drew in a sharp breath as energy surged within him. The tears had broken the spell – he was free.

Deep beneath the waves, Morgana sensed the shift in power. A guttural scream tore from her throat as she realised the siren had succeeded. He’d gotten the tears of true love needed to break their pact. Her fury boiled up from the lightless depths. How could've this happened? Centuries of bargains and not once had she failed to collect. Her scream turned into an ominous rumble that echoed through the sea. The water roiled with her anger as she unleashed a fearsome roar. It reverberated through the currents until even Billy and Steve could hear its menacing tone from the surface.

Steve swam them both to the shore. He wasn’t quite sure how to proceed with this madness, but he would do his all to try.

Billy sat in the shallow water, staring at his tail. It was still there. Then he felt a tingling warmth spread through his body, and he closed his eyes. He could feel the magic unfurling inside him, released at last by the fulfilment of his pact with Morgana. 

The energy built until his whole being seemed to vibrate with power. Then, like a wave crashing over him, the transformation began, shining bright light all around.

His sleek fiery tail started to divide. The scales receded, revealing smooth, tanned skin underneath. Fins softened into feet and toes, his gils sealing the parted skin on his torso. The changes rippled upwards as the magic worked its way over his body, returning him into the form, with clothes and all he’d spent the last few weeks.

Steve watched in awe as Atlantis' siren form reshaped into human's before his eyes. It was strange yet beautiful to witness. Within moments, the man he loved fully emerged from the receding tide. Atlantis rose unsteadily, testing his newly restored legs, and Steve rushed to stand up and to support him in his first steps out of the sea. “You’re…you again,” he said softly, still in wonderment. 

Billy turned and embraced Steve, nodding into his shoulder. He was overcome with emotion. After a long moment, they parted. Billy lifted a hand to gently touch Steve's cheek and looked at him in the eyes that were full of tenderness and promise. Billy opened his mouth, hesitant. This was the moment he had been waiting for - to have his voice returned.

He tried to form words, but only a soft croak emerged. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Steve," he said, the name rough and low in his unfamiliar vocal chords. His eyes widened at the sound of his own voice. It was nothing like the hypnotic, melodic tones he'd possessed as a siren. This was deeper, grittier, thoroughly human. He swallowed and tried again, gaining confidence. "Steve… How have I longed for this moment."

Steve's eyes misted over with emotion. "Your voice," he breathed. "It's beautiful."

Joy surged through Billy. He threw his arms around Steve, embracing him fiercely. "I am finally free, whole, here with you." Drawing back, he cupped Steve's face in his hands. "I love you," he declared fervently. "I will spend every day proving it, if you let me."

Steve smiled through his tears. "There's nothing I want more," he replied, covering Billy's hands with his own. 

Billy smiled shyly. “My name is not Atlantis. It’s…Beacher. But you can call me Billy.”

“Billy…” Steve tried on the name. “It’s a lovely name. I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life.” 

Steve took Billy’s hand, and they started to walk towards the city. They were halfway down when Billy stopped. He glanced back at the dark ocean shimmering in the moonlight. For a moment, he was flooded with bittersweet nostalgia. He would miss diving beneath the surf, his powerful tail propelling him effortlessly through the currents. He would miss the songs of his fellow sirens echoing hauntingly across the water.

But the human world was now where he belonged. A new life in front of him, full of love and possibilities he had never even imagined. With Steve by his side, he was ready to embrace that future. "Goodbye," he whispered, his voice carried away by the ocean breeze.

Hand in hand, they walked over the sand and onto the pavement, over the busy street and to the other side. The broadwalk was bustling with activity, people spilling onto patios and crowded sidewalks, the air ringing with laughter and lively conversations. They joined in and their laughter echoed through the streets as they disappeared into the heart of the city.

The End.

[veresiine]

Headcanon Post on Education in Galar

Education in general

Education focuses a lot more on online coursework and independent study than in-classroom learning.

The Gym Challenge lines up with summer vacation, due to how many of the challengers are children.

There are in fact child labor laws in Galar, and children who work for or hold positions in the League are required to have a certain amount of time set aside for education. Of course, League kids generally don't carry right on with the same general education they'd been getting beforehand; they usually end up taking more specialized classes, but they're still encouraged to get the equivalent of a high school diploma, and the League track classes count towards that.

Character by character (for the child and young adult characters; under the cut due to length)

Leon got mostly low average grades. No Fs, but mostly C's with some B's and some D's. He's sharp enough, but school wasn't his priority; family was, out of both care and necessity, and then when he started his pokemon journey, battling was. Then, after becoming Champion, the League (and Rose specifically) took over his education and steered him more into studies more relevant to a League career and what Rose needed him to do; anything pertaining to pokemon training and battling, of course, but also business, poli sci, and maybe some psychology. He officially has the equivalent of a high school diploma, but because of how specialized and unbalanced his education was, he has undergraduate level mastery of the focused subjects and early high school mastery of subjects that were not prioritized. We do see he's curious and likes to learn (his reactions to the lab, for instance); if he ever has time, I can see him pursuing an associate's degree for fun and to help round himself out, but I can't imagine he'd settle down enough to make time for that until his late 30s at the earliest.

Sonia, by contrast, was a straight A's student; she felt her family would accept nothing less. She burnt out hard after getting the equivalent of her bachelor's degree, possibly a dual-major in history and biology, which is where we find her in the game. By a year after the game, she has an honorary doctoral degree, and is also well on her way to finishing a master's in whichever subject (history or biology) her doctorate wasn't in.

Hop is a good student, but not exceptional. He gets a mix of B's and A's; once he makes up his mind on becoming Sonia's assistant and starts applying himself there, he starts getting many more A's than B's. He wants to further his education after completing the equivalent of high school.

Raihan was a good student who got mostly A's. He got a few B's, and while one of his parents made a big stink about that, his other parent wasn't too bothered, nor was Raihan himself. He kept up with general education even after becoming a League trainer and taking specialized classes there; I imagine he holds the equivalent of an associate's degree in liberal arts.

Nessa got mostly B's, and was a solid, well-rounded student. She has the equivalent of a high school diploma, and while she doesn't plan on seeking further schooling, she does read up on science topics occasionally in her spare time so she can have more to talk about with Sonia.

Piers was in a similar situation to Leon early on; he simply didn't have the time or resources to excel at school. That, and Piers didn't much care about what kinds of grades he got; Leon at least wanted to try to make his instructors happy even if that wasn't his priority. Piers, I imagine, got mostly D's, but there were a few subjects where he really shined (music, of course, but also civics, and, depending on the instructor, language arts). He only completed compulsory education; he didn't get a diploma.

But Piers wanted to work hard so Marnie would have the resources to succeed in school, and she is. She's getting a mix of B's and A's, mostly, but there are a few C's too.

Bea's parents will not let the League take over her education. She faces similar academic pressure to what Sonia did, and she for the most part rises to the occasion.

Allister's grades are fairly poor, but he gets plenty of unofficial education and life knowledge and experience from talking with his gym trainers.

Milo continued an agricultural track program instead of the track the League suggested for him. His general education grades were average - Bs and Cs - but once he was able to specialize, he moved up to getting a mix of A's and B's.

Bede will not let anyone see his grades. He got mostly A's, with a few B's that he went to great lengths to try to hide from Rose. He's currently trying to get his high school diploma equivalent a year early just so he can be done with the hassle, and is on track to do so.

I'm drawing a blank on Gordie. Really I don't know enough about him to say anything.

(for other SwSh headcanons and fic, see my pinned post here )

[the-everqueen]

001: Sandman - A random thought

002: Rose/Corinthian

003: Rose Walker

sandman - a random thought if the corinthian has multiple apartments, does he hire cleaners? or is there like, dreaming magic that keeps the places dust-free? or does the corinthian have a secret assigned cleaning day? (imagine him in an apron and rubber gloves scrubbing the kitchen.)

send me a ship - rose/corinthian when i started shipping it: i think it was after reading heavy lies the crown? that fic is just...mm. delicious.

my thoughts: coco/rose plays with so many themes i find fun. what does it mean to be a person. what do you do after a narrative has ended but you still have to live. what is the difference between devotion and love. can you ever truly love god or is that relationship fundamentally fucked. what if god was also just the girl whose brother you saved and she thought you were some kind of potential guard dog. what if god held your leash and you liked it. what if you bit the hand that feeds you and it still came back for pets.

what makes me happy about them: the thing is, i think rose fundamentally understands the corinthian as a person, in a way that dream never will, because dream knows what he really is was made to be. meanwhile the corinthian understands rose as both human and Endless (because that's his whole function). they get each other. also i'm a diehard believer in giving the corinthian to one of sandman's female characters, because frankly anyone is going to be better at handling him than dream once coco is outside the realm of "favorite" and it leads to Fun Shenanigans.

what makes me sad about them: the thing i'm grappling with in the la guard dog sequel is that, while they get each other, i'm not sure they can...fix each other. like, none of us can really "fix" each other, and both of them have deep-running trauma that goes beyond the other's capacity to heal. there's a part of me that could see a bad ending au where essentially the corinthian makes rose Worse, whatever that might look like. also, at least in canon, that they don't talk again before dream unmakes the corinthian. what does rose think about him, really, in the end? it feels very much like he's Trying with her, even if that's tangled up in his attempts to overthrow dream and save his own life, and even if inherently it's performative on some level.

things done in fanfic that annoy me: a lot of the wider fandom treats rose like a kid. which feels unfair, given that she's a) in her twenties, so a legal adult, and b) shouldering adult responsibilities plenty of her peers don't have to worry about. [insert rant about how Black girls aren't allowed to have childhoods but are also not seen as capable once they're adults.] most coco/rose people are already thinking about rose as a consenting adult and someone with very real trauma, but i guess the other thing would be it's easy to forget the corinthian is an inherently hungry thing.

things i look for in fanfic: ...fics of them at all? authors grappling with categorization of "thingness"? the absence of hob as some kind of uncle figure to the walkers.

my kinks: debates about personhood. pain play. unequal power dynamics. (this is a whole bhol characters thing, i think i just want someone to tie up that white dude.)

who i'd be comfortable with them ending up with, if not each other: again, too poly for this question to ever apply to me. i'd like to see more Rose ships in general.

my happily ever after for them: well, that's just the la guard dog au.

give me a character - rose walker how i feel about this character: big. i care about her. i want to hold her in my arms. i want to bite anyone who looks at her as just a prop for morpheus. tv!rose is SO fucking interesting, the show fleshed out so much of her character in relation to her positioning as a young Black woman, and that is DELIGHTFUL, and i want more people to engage with her.

all the people i ship romantically with this character: obvs i'm writing coco/rose. there's a whole other unwritten thing that is cori/matt/rose as a poly triad. rose/calliope has Potential. rose/barbie, of course, is adorable.

my non-romantic otp for this character: i think rose and lucienne could be such good friends. another storyteller for the librarian??

my unpopular opinion about this character: rose is a lot less naive than people think she is. she's young, yes, but she's experienced, she's intelligent, and she knows her values.

one thing i wish would happen/had happened in canon: i hope we see more of rose in subsequent seasons! she features as a recurring character in the comix. i do wish comix rose had been more nuanced as a character - she's so much the coming-of-age archetype that she's basically not really a person anymore.

my otp/ot3: apparently i am a coco/rose truther. (let the everywoman fuck the eyeball eating nightmare!) but mostly i'd like more people to engage with rose as a subject in general, rather than relegating her to the sidelines or ignoring her altogether.

[davekat-sucks]

After reading your recent posts about wanting to distance yourself from homestuck eventually makes me feel bad too send asks because it means more homestuck is being streamlined to you

About a year ago i dropped homestuck after losing interest once again (this happens on and off) and only got into it recently because i currently can't really play video games at the moment so i ended up returning to homestuck. I think a big reason why i can get back into it so easily is because its FREE all you need is an internet connection and you get the massive amount of content from the comic and fandom, there's just soo much too engaged with even if it's not all good. Despite all my problems with Homestuck i still do like it but one thing i wish is What Pumpkin would just let it go, HS2 and Hiveswap are dumpster fires. It feels like they're milking a dead cow, this series would be better off if the poor decision making stopped at the comic itself. I just want it to be left untouched by a company and have it be supported by the love of the fanbase. I'm homestucked out but i like the character enough and shipping them as well will probably keep me hooked for awhile.

I guess I'll throw in what i was originally going too say anyway. I think homestuck took a massive drop in writing quality after murderstuck. Like why is everyone just standing on the meteor? You guys aren't going to get more serious after all that? Was there any reason as to why no one could've texted John or Jade while separated? I genuinely don't remember there being a reason. I thought Kanaya coming back to life was stupid, the Gamzee and Terezi thing gross, Rose being an alcoholic then drunk making out with Kanaya also being gross, Karkat and Dave being bystanding asshole during all this, Wayward Vagabond being practically a stuffed animal, like what is this? After murderstuck you could definitely feel the decline but there where some decent moments spread out afterwards with Caliborn being the main one stealing the show. I think Hussie really liked Caliborn, you can tell he had so much fun writing him. I like to believe Hussie went wild with Caliborn because he could get away with all the edgy stupid stuff with him because he's a villain, Hussie had obviously gave into the demands of the fans and i think even he got tired of it, Caliborn was the perfect blank slate for him to have some real freedom in writing again, Caliborns character is really in line with Hussies older sense of humor. Despite still giving into demands every other time, Caliborn got too be want Hussie actually wanted. Oooh Caliborn how you almost saved Homestuck, at least you get to be the best character in the end.

It's fine to still send asks about Homestuck here. Moving on doesn't happen overnight and I'm often sticking around more to speak out about the flaws. From the series itself, the fandom, or the current culture that surrounds it. It can be applied to other groups like those who like anime, comics, video games, etc. Homestuck is just one niche I focus on because I'm familiar with it. There are many other people online that talk about these similar topics that do it better than I ever could. But I agree that WhatPumpkin should just let the base webcomic end just there. No need to focus more on Epilogues, Homestuck^2, or Homestuck Beyond Canon. Let people interpret their own endings. Homestuck may not have been able to leave a mark in media history like what Undertale or FNAF did, but it's better to let it end there as it is. The story really felt going down after Murderstuck. Cascade was probably the only greatest thing left behind. Then Act 6 kicked in. There are many plot holes and questions to be raised about it. From things like why can't Dave/Rose or the other living trolls on the meteor use Trollian or any of their communication devices like they had before? There's nothing said about their travel to the Alpha Session will block communication between the two parties. I hate how Dave and Karkat stood on the sidelines as Rose/Kanaya and Gamzee/Terezi go through hell with their problems. Why wasn't Wayward Vagabond doing more to try and communicate with the others? Can Town and being a mayor is his dream, but we have seen him become a leader of his own to his own people. WV had communicate with John to act as his Exile, so why not the same with Dave, Rose, and the other living trolls? Where was he when the others went into the Dream Bubbles? Carapacians are not allowed there? Is still on the meteor to 'protect' the base? Was that the only time they left him alone like he was some housepet? Wouldn't it be better to have Wayward Vagabond that's now revived, stay on the Prospitian ship that John and Jade were on so that they could be with Dave and Rose? Wayward Vagabond would have a better time to try and get all the Carapacians to be ready when they arrived in the Alpha session. Where were the Carapacians by Post Retcon and Collide? By Post Retcon, the ones on the Prospitian ship and those with Roxy should be alive by then. Casey also was there to summon undead consorts during Jake vs The Felt fight. Wouldn't that mean the other consorts were still there Prospitian ship that John and Jade were on, could have joined the battle? There are too many plot holes and vague answers still around because of Act 6 and Post Retcon that it makes people question the quality and how the story was leading up to this. I do believe as well that Caliborn was the only way for Hussie to let himself use his old edgey humor. Dave and Dirk were there, but those two had their character development and he needed another being to stand in his place. Other characters that fit would have been dead and he had to come with some bullshit reason to bring them back. So it's better to make an original OC than to reuse another character. Caliborn really was the best as he really made lots of changeups and excitement to the series. If not only in narrative standpoint, but also in meta in the sense that he was able to change the website readers would be on. You had to be there with old flash to see him banging on the console that the link and panel you were trying to read, shook with every hit and everything gets scrambled and falling apart. Calliope hasn't done anything like that despite that we are suppose to root for her as the good guy that will join the heroes. Caliborn is just that amazing. Act 6 may have been carried by people like Dirk and Roxy, but Caliborn flexed it up high like Atlas did with the World.

[slvtformen]

SLVTFORMEN RULES

greetings love-bites, i'm slvt, or slvtformen, whatever you choose to call me. i'm a role-player, and i also write fanfics for all tumblr.

i'm pretty chill on my rules if you do request from me. i don't mind whatever you request.

here are my rules, etc, etc, whxres.

WHO DO I WRITE FOR?

i can practically write for anyone, since the fact i know some bands, and all that shi. also since i watched a few seasons of things i know a little to write for them.

here are the bands + shows i write for:

Metallica, Guns N' Roses, Megadeth

Mötley Crüe, KISS, Van Halen, Queen

Def Leppard, The Beatles, Bon Jovi

Hanoi Rocks, Nirvana, Black Sabbath

AC/DC, Twisted Sister, Poison, Warrant

Aerosmith, Billy Idol, Judas Priest

and yes, I will write for every single member.

i can write for other bands/rockstars too (prob) just ask, and i will see if i can write what you want for that band! those r just the main bands and rockstars i can write for, now these are the shows/seasons i write for,

American Horror Story; Murder House

American Horror Story; Coven (Not Apocalypse, sorry.)

American Horror Story; 1984

American Horror Story; Cult

I can try for AHS; Hotel and AHS; FS, but I haven't seen all of it, so, y'know.

Stranger Things; S1 - S4 (No smut for the underage characters, but smut for the adult characters.)

I can write for Scream, the first movie though since I haven't watched the other movies.

The Dirt, of course.

yes, I will write for every character but no smut for the young characters that are minors.

those r some of the shows/movies i can try and write for, although i haven't seen all of ahs; fh, and ahs; hotel, i can try and write little for them, and same goes for scream, too, since i only watched the first movie. dont plan on watching the other ones lmfaoo.

WHAT WILL I WRITE AND WONT WRITE?

i can write for anything, mostly, but there are some i won't write. but, what will i write and what will i won't write?

here is what i will write!:

Smut, although there are limits to it. I don't want to write anything with feet fetish, diapers, piss n shit, and weird ass fetishes and turn ons. Although, I'm okay with degrading, hair pulling, stuff like that. Also, I won't write smut for underage characters. Adults I will write for only. I will NOT, write R#P3, P3D0PH1L#A, ETC. I will NEVER write it, so don't think of requesting it. It is disgusting.

Fluff. Fluff is my favorite to write, since it's all cuddly, and shit. Same limits apply to Smut, NO R#P3, P3D0PH1L#A, ETC When i'm writing fluff, obviously. Don't think of requesting it because it's gross.

Angst, I also enjoy writing angst, heavy angst especially. Same limits go for Angst like Fluff and Smut, read above.

Mystery & Horror. Mystery and Horror are cool, although I haven't wrote many pieces for it, i think it's a pretty chill genre. I will write mystery and horror even if gore, all that shit is involved but same shit applies for these two as well like angst, fluff, and smut.

Fantasy. Never wrote for fantasy, but same stuff applies to fantasy just as it does for smut, angst, etc etc. I am willing to try it though?

I will write for anything, really. This section wasn't too big. Although I won't write weird fetishes, etc etc. Read above. I won't write R#P3, P3D0PH1L#A, ETC, because that is absolutely disgusting and I won't do it, i'm not sorry for it.

ENDING

as to conclude, this is my rules and what i'll write, and won't write, and who i write for. my requests are open and please follow and read these before actually requesting me. bye love-bites !! <3

[acourtofthought]

I feel like El/riel seems to have a hard time to seeing anything outside the El/riel ship.

Example: The Nephelle philosophy has nothing to do with Elain or El/riel specifially since it's a goddamn philosophy. Sarah related a song specifally to Azriel has no big meaning and doesn't relate to either ship. Every word "flower" "Shadow" "bread" "fawn" "death" isn't always related to Elain and Azriel. How else is Sarah suppose to describe a dark corner? Or our dark figures that always follow us? Can a place not smell like flowers or bread without having anything to do with Elain? Wasn't Feyre described as fawn and Rhys as death too? Can Sjm just love flowers and put them as decoration without anyone screaming that it comfirms El/riel? Like....

Even the way they talk about Elain and Azriel is like these characters are nothing outside of El/riel.

Not everything Sjm says or do has a whole meaning behind it. I know we want our ships confirmed but goddamnit touch grass.

I agree. Yes, there are key words that do relate to certain characters but if you have an E-Reader and search for that specific words, you'll see many, MANY times of where that word is used and has no connection to the character in question. As far as the Nephelle philosophy, sure. Maybe Elain's scene with helping to save Briar and stabbing the King could be applied. But you know who else can be applied to it? Feyre saving their entire world by repairing the Cauldron. Nesta defeating a Death God. Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta (three females who had never believed they'd be doing much of anything beyond living in the library, running a shop, and living a life of anger away from true human connection, becoming Valkyries. Literally every SJM heroine there is. Because they all started their journey's living simple lives and have gone on to do greater things. No one assumed they'd ever become what they're becoming. That's the point of the philosophy, that these often underestimated females are making a difference in a way that no one would have imagined. It's interesting they fixate so much on Elain as fawn in conjunction with Az (lovely Fawn standing before Death_ because while on some level though it's cute imagery, it's not really a compliment. Yes, "Fox and Fawn" have a nice ring when the readers say it but note how Feyre that. It's a moniker readers have come up with. But Feyre does use Fawn and Death in a painting idea. The problem with that is:

"Fawns instinctively lie motionless when approached by a potential predator" Fawn calls to mind a timid creature who try to hide from things. The Suriel and Feyre, at that point in time, are viewing Elain this way because of her not having found who she is. She still shies away from things and hasn't really found her voice. So Fawn in connection with Az means that Elain is not bold with him and that is NEVER an endgame SJM pairing. And the Carver referenced Nesta to a fawn so yeah, it doesn't always have something to do with Elain. As far as Roses and Bread, I think there's a chance that may have had something to do with Elain. Whether it meant that SJM wanted to draw attention to the fact that she was missing from the Crossover scene in HOSAB or whether SJM did want to hint that she was staying in the townhouse, I think either is plausible. But E/riels using that as proof that E/riel as endgame is a joke because that means they've somehow gone from the Solstice rejection to making up, having their first kiss, asking one another to live together, all off page. When has that EVER happened in an SJM romance? Cassian does note in SF that the townhouse is currently vacant for whoever needs it and the fact that when Bryce enters, it smells like Bread and Roses and has a fire burning does suggest to me that someone is staying there. It would make sense that after what happened on Solstice, Elain would want to move out of the River House because Az often shows up for NC meetings. Why would she constantly want to run into him? So maybe she did ask to find her own space to live which sets her up for a book, just as Nesta began her book living in the apartment. Maybe Elain was watching Nyx at the River House and suggested the IC use her place to take Bryce to so she didn't have to enter the home of Feysand where their child was. Maybe Elain is living in the townhouse but was out somewhere else for the day so they knew it would be safe to use. Or maybe it's Az that's living there and bread and roses is not at all meant to indicate Elain is there with him but merely a clue SJM placed in order for us to note "hey, where IS Elain? Why is she not part of the group?" It's not that I can't understand why they initially made that jump because Bread and Roses are fairly specific to Elain. But the fact that anyone refuses to consider that it doesn't mean what they think it means (as far as E/riel certainty, especially because SJM NEVER has an endgame couples romance and major milestones happen off page) is the problem. It's too easy to point out why E/riel living together at the start of the Crossover makes no sense at all.