#when really we’re moving backwards on a completely different scale

[transexualizeyourself]

Too much light pollution to see the stars, AI making art while humans do the work, endless advertising, only thing in theaters are cash-grab remakes or sequels or adaptations, no third spaces, everything is an aesthetic or a -core when really it’s all the same shit in a different color pallet, “millennial grey”, etc etc etc.

has anyone noticed theyre taking away what it means to be human

[river-bottom-nightmare]

"you were missed, you know.” the voice is light, balancing on the edge of airy like a coin on its rim, in a way only careful practice yielded. so jason whirls around, faster than he normally would in a neatly-pressed suit and loose dress shoes. 

there’s a woman, close cropped red hair swinging into her face and pulling at the corners of her mouth until her expression is as severe as her form. there’s a scar on her jaw and, oh, the memory tumbles into his head as if pushed. kate kane, proof that vigilantism is genetic, once tugged jason into into her side and pulled him away from a particularly leering investor at function. the bite of her nails on his skin was a thousand times sweeter than the man’s smile.

she smirks. “hi.”

“haven’t seen you in a while,” jason responds, attempting casual and instead tripping, falling into his crime lord persona, since he doesn’t know how else to interact with people when he’s jason peter todd-wayne. 

“not since you died,” kate remarks and damn, right for the gullet. “you’ve grown up.”

jason shrugs, suddenly feeling thirteen years old again, suddenly feeling all of four feet, eight inches in the face of her candidness. “time’s funny like that.”

she eyes him carefully, trying to fish for the truth in what she believes is a lie wrapped in a careful quip. jason doesn’t blame her: he’s cultivated quite a reputation for himself. but he stripped the sarcasm from his words before he spoke them, and their rawness is shrouded in the bubbling champagne and crystal chandelier around them, but it’s no less present for anyone who knows how to peel the veil back.

“you were missed,” she repeats, satisfied with his answer. “not sure anyone’s told you that since you’ve come back. your family’s a stubborn bunch. i just wanted to make sure.”

“make sure i knew i was missed?” jason clarifies, feeling a little foolish, because dick wouldn’t beg to save his life but there were a few times that his words came close to pleas, and tim had made it clear how much he’d upheld the pedestal he’d put jason on, and alfred had actually told him that to his face. 

but this was the first time he found himself truly believing those familiar words. he hadn’t known kate, not at all. and yet, she nodded, clapped him on the shoulder once, twice, then left, completely unaware of the pit of resentment she’d carved out of jason’s stomach and thrown on the ground until jason felt like he’d slip on it if he moved, if he breathed.

she didn’t look back, but jason’s eyes didn’t stop following her until she was out of sight.

*

"you were missed, you know.” jason doesn’t startle, his training is etched into every scar decorating his skin, and there are times that he grips and holds onto those scars like a lifeline. he’s far too practiced to flinch, but he’d be lying to himself if his heart didn’t skip a beat.

he forgave himself in the next second, though. cassandra cain could make men much more experienced than him recoil. she appeared soundlessly, and folded down beside him with a grace that jason hadn’t seen anywhere outside his family. the amount of space she left between them, the relaxed posture that left visible tension cording through her arms like pulling steel taffy, the tilt to her body that made jason automatically want to open his mouth and let his tumultuous thoughts come out as an oil spill: right now, cass had dick grayson’s brushtrokes all over her.

“dick put you up to this?” 

cass shook her head, then bit her lip in a considering movement. jason wondered if he’d practiced, because bruce had long since broken that dangerous habit out of his children. 

“i am still working on comfort. assurance,”  she said, rifling through the words like flash cards, picking the most accurate ones. “i thought i’d practice.”

“oh? and why exactly do you think i need comfort.”

“i overheard your argument,” she admitted, “with bruce.”

“i didn’t think anyone was there.”

“i didn’t mean to,” she said. “sorry. but i heard what you said.”

jason scoffed. “prove me wrong. one step forward, two steps back with that dense motherfucker.”

“sign of protection,” cass said. “not distrust.”

out of everyone to say that to him, cass was probably the least likely. jason had thought she, of all people, would be on his side after he found the microchip in his helmet. she, of all people, would value independence after being owned for so long.

“by the time he found you, you were dead. and he missed you more than anything. he will never let that happen again.”

“oh yeah? privacy mean nothing to him? i know he’s crazy about this stuff but come on. there’s a limit.”

“you are not relying on him because of this.” cass stood up, stretching her back, though jason was sure she really didn’t have to. “he is relying on you. let him.”

*

“you were missed, you know.” 

“what, speaking from personal experience? i ain’t you, west.” jason could feel the gentle thrum of electricity behind him, making his hair stand on edge. two steps backward, and he’d be pulled into that void, that black hole of energy, that swirling vortex of pure power condensed into something human-shaped.

except he wouldn’t. it was just wally. just dick’s best friend joining him outside on the balcony. jason didn’t know how dick and tim could stand to be around speedsters willingly, for fun.

“i mean, sort of,” wally shrugged. “but me and you had very different experiences.”

“yeah, west, i’m not sure who else has been stuck in the fucking speedforce.”

wally snorted, an if only you knew hidden in plain sight. jason decided he really didn’t want to know. “i mean there’s that,” the speedster concedes, “but also, everyone forgot i existed. that didn’t happen with you.”

“you sure about that?” 

“hey,” wally eyed him, his eyes suddenly sharp. “don’t start that shit. i was erased from the memories of everyone i loved. you did nothing but stay in the memories of your family.”

“now i know we’re talking about two different things.”

“jason,” wally sighed, and the sheer exasperation pouring off him made jason want curl his fingers, bring them up for a swing, taste the bite of pain that would prick at his knuckles, nevermind the fact that wally would dodge anyway. “don’t do that.”

he turned to face the speedster, arms crossed deliberately over his chest. “where the hell do you get off acting like dick?”

“you’re more like dick than you realize,” wally said, “and i spent half my childhood dealing with his moods. actually, i still do.”

“do you have a point?” jason snapped, starting to get irritated. he wasn’t sure why. he’d spent his entire life one one end of a scale, dick grayson on the other. he’d always tipped his end down. this was the first time someone was telling him the scale was even.

“just because your family didn’t mourn the way you wanted them to,” wally said, “doesn’t mean they didn’t mourn you.”

“fuck you.”

“they loved you. and they missed you,” wally continues, steamrolling right over jason in a way most speedsters were prone to do. “there’s no minimum requirement for loss. no ‘if you didn’t do this, then you didn’t grieve me.’ that’s not even a situation, ever.”

“so that makes everything bruce did okay?” jason sputtered

“not at all. god knows i disagree with bruce on more things than i tolerate. but this is one thing you can’t fault him on.”

it wasn’t that easy, though. jason wanted to scream it at wally’s face, it wasn’t that easy. it wasn’t about whether bruce loved him enough,,,,except maybe it was. jason wanted bruce to have loved him enough to make a difference in gotham. jason wanted bruce to have missed him enough to change things, because change meant that bruce had been so hurt by his death that he refused to let it happen to anyone else again.

bruce had made a vow after his parents died. the fifteen year old inside jason was begging bruce why he hadn’t been afforded the same devotion. jason was his son.

“just something to think about,” wally said, then stepped backward, making to go inside where dick was calling him. “you were afforded the luxury of coming back with a place left empty in your family for you. you didn’t have to make it, like i did.”

“being dead, then coming back wrong isn’t a fucking luxury,” jason snarled.

with a shrug, wally turned, a little faster than the average human, lightning sparking at his heels as he left jason alone on the balcony. “depends on your definition of wrong.”

jason get therapy. please. also happy deathday

honestly i couldn’t decide whose side of the argument i was on, jason’s or wally’s.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption

[soulmate-game]

Upon further consideration. Even though it is entirely the wrong ecosystem and I know I already said that Merman!Adrien was born in the coral reefs. But. He totally looks like a betta fish. This guy is colorful and has long, beautiful fins and he totally has little neck fins that pop out when he’s angry (but just make him look even more adorable to everyone else). Like, if the mer-community cared at all about photography, he would still be an underwater model. Does everyone forget the fact that he’s one of the fastest swimmers in the School and definitely a vicious fighter when he needs to be? Yes. Yes they do.

Meanwhile, I don’t know you guys caught my little Easter egg before. But I totally want to make the Gotham Sirens all actual sirens in this AU. Because it works, and it’s funny. So here’s the rundown;

Selina Kyle: I want her based on an iridescent shark— which isn’t a shark, it’s a species of catfish. Which is... maybe partly why I chose it. Because of this, her tail is all her black, but in the right light some of her body is iridescent and shines with soft blues and purples. This isn’t bioluminescence like with a deep sea mermaid, it’s just the color of her skin shifting in the right light like glitter. I say skin, because she doesn’t have scales (iridescent sharks have no scales). So her tail is smooth and slippery. Great for escapes. Being a siren, some of her features are exaggerated even on her fish half. So, her tail fin is more flowy and feathery, almost like a beta fish’s but not nearly as long, and the edges of the tail fin are extra thin, so that they shine and are extra iridescent even in dim lighting. She doesn’t have whiskers, but she does have minor control over her hair. She can control how it floats or falls in order to evoke a certain aesthetic, and the tips of her hair do act as weak sensors. She can’t grab anything with it though, it’s kind of like if you can wiggle your ears. You can move it, but you can’t really... do much with that.

Harley Quinn: totally based off a Mandarinfish/ mandarin dragonet. She has a shorter tail than most mermaids, but it’s much wider and rounder. She has a long torso though, with a decently large, rounded dorsal fin on the middle of her spine. She is very, very colorful. You can tell she is meant to be a siren that captivates immediately, whereas Selina is more of a siren that was meant to allure with mystery. Harley is all bright blues and reds and the occasional dash of pink, supplemented by a few black spots and outlines to bring the other colors into sharper focus. She isn’t fast like Selina, but she is small and agile and very hard to grab ahold of. Her fins are very thin and delicate, but soft and incredibly flexible so they are almost impossible to grab and keep hold of. She is also scaleless like Selina, and her tail naturally produces a mucus that is enhanced by her Siren genes. Instead of being a smelly deterrent, Harley’s natural mucus is actually a quick-acting toxin that can be absorbed by the skin and induces hallucinations. She can control when she does or doesn’t produce it. She still keeps her hair up in pigtails (her hair is mostly blonde, but her fish half does color the tips of each side of her hair so she still has the split blue-and-pink look. Only natural this time). Don’t underestimate her just because she is much more compact in size than a normal siren/mer-person. She has a surprising amount of strength in her upper body to compensate for her lack of easily maneuverable tail.

Poison Ivy: I couldn’t quite decide which species I wanted most, but I knew immediately she had to be an eel mermaid. She’s still very environmentalist and all about protecting the oceans, she will straight up terrify to death anyone she catches dumping in the ocean. Litterbugs, beware. But we’re gonna go with a mix of a dragon moray eel and a snowflake moray. Her main body is dark green, but she has black-and-orange spots down her body and tail. Some look like leaves, others look like skulls. Really, it’s like an ink blot test so it mostly depends on whether or not she’s trying to intimidate the people who see her. Scared people will see skulls, people who are on her good side will usually fondly pick out leaf-patterns (Harley). And she still lives up to the nickname Poison Ivy (humans have this name to her, and she liked it) because she entire body is riddled with different toxins. Like Harley, her body can produce a toxic mucus— but Ivy’s mucus-toxin just makes the victim very drowsy and uncoordinated. Her kiss is also toxic, and is boosted by her Siren powers. Anyone she kisses, as long as she wills it, is temporarily mindlessly in love with her and will work to please her even without her having to say anything. This can be as simple as saving her from a tough situation to... more. Ivy is also the largest of the three infamous Sirens, clocking in at right about ten feet long from head to the tip of her tail, and she is the most physically strong. She suffers a bit in the mobility department purely because of how big her body is, but she is still extremely agile and quick-striking. She often hides amongst kept forests and dense seaweed because she likes plants more than people, but also because her body easily camouflages amongst the similar shapes and colors. Both a captivator and a mysterious beauty in her own right, she has skills that match both Selina and Harley in the Siren department, but it’s tempered by the fact that Ivy is the most quick to attack. Harley enjoys playing with her prey much more, Ivy just does what she needs to be able to get to the violent part. She is picky in her prey, however, in that she really prefers only preying on those who harm the ocean.

General siren information for this AU (or my take on it, anyway). Sirens do have a few common traits that solidify them as one distinct race of Mer-people even with each one usually taking on very different fish-traits. The most well known is a siren’s Charm ability, in which they can use their voice to captivate an audience and perform minor hypnosis. This can be done through both singing and regular speech, as long as their voice is in use and they are putting care into the types of tones they are using. The Charm ability becomes entirely ineffective on other mer-people once they realize that a Siren is not a normal mer-person and even if they don’t know, other mer-people are resistant to the Charm effect. It can only be as potent as social manipulation on other sea dwellers, and cannot make a mermaid or merman do something too far out of their normal character. For humans, knowing they are being Charmed allows them to slowly build up a resistance to the charm’s effect. If they build up enough resistance, then they become effectively immune unless caught off guard. A Charmed human will do almost anything the siren demands, as long as it is not drastic enough to shock the human out of the mind control (i.e telling them to kill a loved one or jump to their death knowingly).

Sirens are largely carnivores, where normal mer-people are omnivores. Some sirens (Ivy) do participate in eating humans, but it is known to be fairly unhealthy (like eating junk food) so it is now done mostly in moderation. Sirens have two sets of teeth, but unlike Deep Sea mermaids, neither set is retractable. The set that is visible is human-like, while behind those human teeth hides a set of needle-like teeth that can slightly extend further out of the gums when necessary for hunting but cannot be completely hidden. These teeth are backward’s curving, like giant snake teeth, and it is notoriously difficult to escape a Siren’s bite.

Sirens, unlike other mer-people, actually do have a need for air and cannot breathe under water. They can hold their breath for hours at a time and speak under water, much like dolphins, but they need to break the surface for air at least once or twice a day. This, of course, leads to more contact with humans.

Sirens are the only mer-people who can develop legs. This happens when they let themselves completely dry out, and if they desire to they can morph their tail into two legs. Their legs will never look human however, as their toes will be webbed and everything below their bellybutton will still be the same colors and pattern as when it is a tail, along with any scales or armor plates they might have remaining. A siren can only maintain this shape for a maximum of forty-eight hours before their skin dries out too much and they start to get dehydrated. Immediately upon contact with water over three inches deep, their legs will begin to re-morph into a tail. Splashing the skin with small amounts of water will only delay dehydration for a maximum of an extra twenty-four hours, as the body consumes water faster than it can be replaced by splashing or small amounts of rain.

That’s what I got :) hope you like it!

[astriiformes]

i couldn't tell you what exactly makes a viola a viola but i mean i do know what a viola is, it's just that all of my knowledge of anything musical is approximative at best

That's where I tend to assume people's knowledge is at! As much as I tend to harp about the distinction between the two, the difference is somewhat subtle, particularly if you don’t have much of a background in music and in particular with stringed instruments.

If you're curious: The main differences between a violin and a viola (physically, at least) are their size and their strings. Violins are significantly smaller than violas, and are tuned so that their open strings are set to the notes G-D-A-E, whereas violas are larger (there's no standard "full size" for a viola, but most adult violists play 16" body instruments, which are about 3-4" larger than a full size violin iirc) and have thicker strings, which are tuned to the notes C-G-D-A

(And yes, because of the way musical scales work, this means that violists can play the same notes you get on a violin E string just by moving their fingers up their A strings, but violinists have no way of replicating the sounds exclusive to the viola's C string. Some people might point out that at a certain point the E notes get too high to properly replicate on the A-string, to which I say: noises that high-pitched are an affront to nature and shouldn't be played anyway. But to each their own)

Because of these differences, viola music is also written in a totally different "clef," which is basically a type of musical notation that tells you how to read the notes on a piece of sheet music. Most instruments play in either bass or treble clef, with bass generally being used for lower instruments and treble being used for higher ones. (Or, if you're playing piano, both -- one for each hand!) Violas, on the other hand, play in one called alto clef, which is almost completely unique (the two or so other alto clef instruments out there are way, way rarer than violas, so the clef is pretty singularly associated with them by most folks).

That said, most violists, at least past the very beginner level, can also read in treble clef, because when we’re doing the aforementioned “play really high E string notes on the A string” trick it’s easier to write them in the “higher” clef. Which is one reason why, even though people like to dunk on violists, I tend to argue there’s a little of a “backwards and in heels” effect going on with our sheet music reading abilities, at the very least -- most of us can read violin music too, and probably have at some point because there’s not nearly as much solo repertoire written for the viola, but most violinists would be completely lost if you handed them viola music! (Sticks tongue out at you all affectionately)

Another fun fact about the viola is that the reason there’s no “full size” instrument for us is because if you made one, it would be impossible to play! Most stringed instruments (cello, violin, bass) have a standard size at which their tuning/strings match their body size in a particular “sweet spot” that produces the optimal tone. They make smaller ones for kids to learn on, but adult musicians will, almost across the board, play the same standard size instrument. For the viola, that sweet spot is an instrument that would be too large for a musician to play properly, so violas are instead sized by inches and most violists play the largest viola they can comfortably hold, usually with a body somewhere in the realm of 15-17″ (mine is a 16″!)

Anyways all this probably makes clear some of the reasons violas are seen as a bit of an odd duck out, and thus dunked on/teased by the rest of the orchestra (just look up “viola jokes”) -- generally fairly lovingly, but there’s also a real perception by some people that violists are just less-talented violinists who play the “easier” instrument. We do play a bit of a weird instrument -- which is one reason I love being a violist, honestly! -- but in truth, violas have mostly just not been perceived as a legitimate solo instrument and have generally been given accompaniment parts throughout a lot of musical history, so it’s less that we play the easier instrument and more that we’ve been waiting for more composers to give us more parts where we can really shine! (I learned recently that people sometimes refer to the viola as “the Cinderella of the orchestra” which I think is really sweet, actually, and not an entirely inaccurate descriptor)

TL;DR it’s a bigger, lower instrument that tends to have a somewhat deeper/richer tone as a result (we tend to play along with the cellos when we have the melody in orchestral music) and something of the orchestra’s certified Weird Kid that hasn’t always gotten as much love/respect -- which as someone who likes lower tones and being a bit of an oddball is exactly why I have been a viola player for... gosh 14 years now.

[writing-gifts]

Finding Home (merman!Elliott x gn!reader)

A/N: Me and a friend, @hideyoosh, worked on this stardew valley reader insert fic together. There should be more chapters in the future hopefully. 

-------

The tree branches sway as the fallen leaves are carried in the gentle wind.

Today was a perfect day for fishing. You had been so caught up in tending to your autumn crops that you hadn't taken the time to focus on your hobbies. It wasn’t like you didn't enjoy farming though, it was just nice to take a break every once in a while.

Unfortunately, the lake in the forest south of your farm seemed to be quiet today. Nothing was biting, even with the bait you had hooked on. This was extremely peculiar since every time you came here multiple fish would bite throughout the day. You'd even throw some back. But now it was well into the afternoon and you hadn't caught a single thing.

You sigh and lean back in your seat you placed on the dock. Good thing you brought one with you.

While you contemplate whether you should call it day or not, your rod jerks forward. You finally had hooked something!

You scramble to try to reel it in hoping, praying, that it wasn't trash that got caught. However you cross that off quickly. Whatever you had at the end of the line was fighting back hard.

You put up your best fight, set on making this fish yours and it seems like neither of you will let up. But then your line suddenly snaps.

The release of tension sends you and your chair falling backwards. Your mouth gawks at the destroyed line on your iridium fishing rod. This wasn’t any cheap rod either. In fact, it was brand new!

What could have been strong enough to do this?

You pout at the loss of an incredible catch and your line that you would now have to fix.

"Dammit…"

Suddenly, you hear splashing from the lake and look up to see a man in the water not too far away from you. You had never seen this man in town before so you're immediately alarmed.

How long had he even been in the water?

"I’m sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!" he called out.

Your mouth hangs open and you’re at a loss for words.

The man had long ginger hair, and deep green eyes. Along with his defined cheekbones and sharp jawline, he might as well be physically flawless. Part of you couldn't believe he was even human.

He holds out your hook, the broken off piece of your line hanging from it, and begins making his way closer to the dock.

"I apologize for breaking it, but I couldn't get it out otherwise so…."

You finally manage to somewhat collect yourself back onto your chair and try to make sense of what was happening. Surely you would have noticed someone out in the lake before you cast out your line, so how did he get hooked?

He stares at you, and you stare right back. His gaze was warm and honest, almost naive.

Breaking the momentary silence, you utter a very eloquent, "What?"

"This hook. I believe it belongs to you seeing as we’re the only ones here. Thought I would return it since my arm has no better use for it."

You give a breathy laugh and reach for the outstretched hook. “Yeah I suppose you’ve got a good point there. Thanks.”

You take the hook from his hand, your fingers just brushing up against his. The small bit of contact has your face heating up unexpectedly and you look away.

What's wrong with you?Just an ounce of human contact and you're on fire! Touch starved much?

The other equally reasonable part of you argues otherwise though.

The man is a living, breathing deity of grace and beauty! Anyone with eyes can argue that. How am I still conscious?

And somehow you agree with both.

Once you take the hook, you notice the blood on his left arm.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hook you. I’d be a sorry excuse for a fisherman if I could only fish men."

He offers a short laugh and replies, "That's quite alright. You were just trying to catch a meal.”

Oh, I caught a meal alright...

“I assure you it appears much more garish than it actually is." He pokes around the wound to demonstrate no reaction. “See?”

"Please, it's my fault you’re hurt so I can at least help you clean the wound. My farm’s not too far, I’ll grab a first aid kit and be back.”

You get up from your chair quickly and give him no time to argue. If you were fast enough you could be back within an hour, so you half-sprint the trip back to your farm.

As you look through your medicine cabinet for anything else you might need, you remember the times you hurt yourself with fishing hooks. Sure, they can be annoying to deal with, but that’s really all. You can't really say much for experiencing getting hooked and reeled though.

Catching yourself zoning out, you quickly gather what you need before heading to the dock once more.

You run down the old wooden planks to your chair and pole, but you don’t find the injured stranger there with them.

Confused, you look around in the distance to see if he got out of the water somewhere. As soon as you turn to look behind yourself, you feel something grip your ankle. You shriek and frantically try to kick it off.

“WHAT THE F-”

"Shh! Please don’t scream! It’s me!"

Your ankle is released and you fall backwards onto the dock. Again. You scoot closer to the edge and meet an apologetic gaze. The man was still in the water after all. You give a sigh of utter relief.

“I’m so glad it’s you and not a murderous mythical fish monster...Where did you go?”

“I was diving a bit while you were gone. I’m sorry. It was ill mannered of me to grab you so suddenly,” he said earnestly.

Part of you wonders why he didn't just call out to you but you shrug.

“All is forgiven.”

You place a towel and first aid kit on your fish cooler and motion to the chair next to it.

"Can you get out of the water for me? You can sit on this seat so I can clean you up."

"Um…"

"What’s up?"

He visibly tenses at the question and musters out, "I just don't think I can get up into that seat."

He moves closer to the pier and places his hands on the worn wood before trying to lift himself up and falling back in the water.

“Not a problem man! I’ll help you up.”

“Wait!”

You take a good grip on his arm, muster all the strength you used trying to reel him in the first time, and heave him onto the dock. Your eyes widen when you see that his bottom half isn't human at all. His hips were completely covered in burgundy scales and as he sits himself on the edge of the pier, you realize that his lower body tapers off into a giant tail.

For the second time today you find yourself struggling to find words.

The man--no merman realizes your shock and gives an empty chuckle. "I've scared you again…"

Immediately, you blink and shake your head. "I--I'm just a little surprised, but not scared. You’d be surprised yourself that this doesn’t even top the list!"

Supernatural beings in this town aren’t exactly few and far between, are they?

“Anyways, tail or not, your arm still needs attention. Lift it up for me?”

The man gapes back at you but does as you say. It seems he’s the one left speechless this time.

You grab the disinfectant spray off the cooler and move the bandages to the seat before approaching him.

"This might sting a little."

You spray where the hook had got him and you realize that the gash goes down further than you thought originally. It begins near his shoulder and fades out around the middle of his bicep due to you trying to reel him in. The guilt starts to set in pretty fast as you inspect the wound.

As you try to take your mind off the damage you caused you notice the merman seems lost in thought.

"What's your name?" you ask.

He seems surprised yet relieved by the break in the silence. He slips into a relaxed and elegant smile and says, “Elliott. Might I ask you yours?"

"I’m ____, but most people just call me the farmer around here."

"Then it's very nice to meet you, farmer."

You grab the bandages but then remember that the Elliott would eventually have to go back in the water. So you fiddle with the packaged roll in your hands instead.

"Well, I think I'm done. I can't wrap the wound cause it would be bad if the bandages got wet. Will you be okay?"

"You needn’t worry! It will heal in no time at all and even more so since you helped me." He gives you a very charming smile and you can't help returning it.

He’s really different from everyone else in town, you think to yourself, and not just because of the whole merman situation. Elliott had a mature and sophisticated manner of speaking which was a welcome change of pace. And speaking with him was effortless as it was enchanting. You hoped it wouldn’t be the last time.

"Do you live here?"

The merman frowns slightly before shaking his head. "Unfortunately, I appear to be stuck between a rock and a hard place in terms of my home.”

"Oh, are you lost?"

"Not necessarily. I ended up here because I had nowhere else to go. The humans in blue along the coast have closed off any underwater entrance back into the ocean from here."

You tilt your head wondering what he means before it hits you.

Joja.

"The dam--They must have shut it off completely. But they said that they wouldn't!"

Your brow furrows as you try to figure out how this happened. Earlier in the year, Joja had finished the construction of their dam running along the outlet of the river bank to the sea. All you knew about it was bits of information you overheard in the saloon, really, and that helped you remember two things. That the dam was unfortunately an energy powerhouse in Stardew Valley and Joja was only allowed to build the dam under the condition that they could not mess with the river bank’s environment.

Cutting off the sea from the river is a huge interjection! They couldn't even do it without the proper authorization! What could they possibly be hoping to gain from a severed connection between the river and ocean?

Your thoughts come to a halt when you see Elliott giving you a concerned look. The last thing you want to do is give him more reason to worry, so instead you inhale deeply and do your best to comfort him.

"I'm sorry that happened to you. I wish I could help you get back."

He smiles weakly, "Your kindness and concern are enough."

The sentiment was nice but you shake your head. "No, I'm going to help you get back home. I've just decided."

The merman's eyes widen. "But how?"

"...That is a good question." You think for a moment but nothing is really coming to mind.

"I don't know yet but I'm sure we can come up with something eventually!"

Fortunately, that's enough to raise Elliott's spirits. "Perhaps you're right. They do say two heads are better than one."

You smile, but maybe you need to recruit some assistance though.

[mudpuddless]

"the bite in the night and the secret teeth society"

or: what happens when you put Bond in charge of coming up with names

wc: 1.504, vampire/werewolf/fae AU

Mallory was M. He had worked towards this for last twenty threee years, and now he was M and M was dead. the other M, the one that had been the face and soul of the title for so long now.

Mallory was late for his first official meeting. to be completely fair he had only just learned there was a meeting and it wasnt like he could make the elevator move any faster anyhow, so at least it wasn’t entirely his fault. miss moneypenny, his new secretary had just sent him a notification, even though he could have sworn there would be no meetings today, and he had been very sure. It would after all be his very first official meeting.

Mallory was stressed out because he was late for his very first official meeting but Mallory was also M, so it wasn't exactly a good look. He tried to think of something else, but the elevator pinged and the doors opened and Mallory took a deep, calming breath. He might be late, but he was also M, and he hadn’t come by the position by doing anything by halves.

Ten minutes later M was sitting in front of Q’s cluttered desk in a previously cluttered chair in a small, cluttered, office. One of the technicians had spotted him entering Q branch, quickly checked the time and guided him to the Quartermasters office. Which was, by the looks of it the smallest room in the entirety of Q branch, and also devoid of a Quartermaster. The tiny, nervous part of M was glad; he wasnt the last to arrive, so he really couldnt be blamed for not being here on time. M leaned back in his chair and occupied his time looking around the room. To him it seemed like a glorified storage space, the only difference being the desk, which was placed in the middle of the room instead of against a wall like one usually saw in a workspace.

M didnt notice someone had walked up behind him until the young man was already past him, dumping a stack of paper onto the desk. Right behind him was M’s new secretary, who somehow balanced four cups of coffee in her hands.

The young man, Q, as M now realised, huffed at the desk, and - M suspected - the mess, before falling backwards into his chair.

Miss moneypenny simply put down the cups of coffee on top of the stack of papers and pulled out a chair from under the desk. Q stencilled his fingers together, : » were still waiting on someone M. Apologies for the delay, but this is important.«

His tone indicated that while it was important it was also tedious.

The somewhat relaxed atmosphere charged as double oh seven - Bond, M remembered - stepped into the office with a loud smile on his face.

»Eve, Q, Mallory,« He nodded at each of them, »so sorry for the delay, my carriage driver didnt know the way«

For a moment Mallory wondered about the odd choice of words, except neither his secretary nor the quartermaster seemed very surprised.

Eve only took a sip of her coffee while Q rolled his eyes so far back it hurt to look at.

»Bond you’ve been using that excuse since the day I met you and its never once seemed believable. Now-»

Q picked up two of the remaining cups and handed one of them to Bond, who immediately pulled a small silver hip flask from his pocket. Mallory could feel the frown on his face form slowly as Bond slowly emptied the entire thing into his cup, before putting down the open flask on the desk in front of him and handing the cup to Mallory.

By now M felt his stare had become somewhat undignified, especially since neither of the others had raised a single eyebrow.

M accepted the cup before the silence in the room became suffocating and watched as Q handed double oh seven the other cup.

As the Quartermaster and Miss Moneypenny quickly drained their cups M barely took a sip but occupied his time watching Bond plop down on the tiny grey couch in the corner.

Finally the Quartermaster let out a long suffering sigh that was, in Mallory’s humble opinion, not appropriate for the situation at hand.

Q cleared his throat. »Gentlefolk. We have gathered here today to fullfill our sacred duty to inform M, of any and all hidden proceedings of MI6’s full scale of operation. Do you, Gareth Mallory, swear a sacred oath not to reveal these secrets to anyone under any circumstances.?«

M blinked. He wasn't sure if Q was serious, but he hadn't seemed like the kind of person to pull something like this.

Miss Moneypenny pointed her chin at the spiced cup in Mallory's hands.

»You should drink that, or you won't be M for much longer.«

M felt his eyebrows rise. »Are you threatening me?«

Eve raised single eyebrow and carefully balanced her cup on her thigh. »It would be terribly cliché of me to say I was merely stating facts, but it's not not like I'm lying so, no. We’re not threatening you. Sign the papers.«

»And why would I do that, after that …particular… statement?«

Double oh seven sat up straighter and M looked back towards Q quick enough to catch the warning flicker the quartermaster was throwing at bond. He sighed in reined compliance and relaxed in his chair.

»Why do you want me to sign then? I'm sorry but reading-»

He ran his thumb over the side of the stack, and checked the final page where a thin dotted line indicated the lack of a signature that he was apparently supposed to provide,

»- 598 pages of any contract is not quite what I would call entertaining.«

He smiled, only a hint of derision visible in his smile.

»Could you maybe be so kind and sum up what you expect me to sign here?«

Immediately the atmosphere changed. Bond was suddenly on the edge of his seat, a shallow smile distorting his features.

»This contract states, in not quite so many words, that you can never, in any way, tell anyone, living or dead what we-« he deliberately gestured around the room, encompassing the three of them.

»-would be legally obligated to tell you if if you do sign it.«

Mallory followed the gesture around the room; A secretary, the oldest double oh in service and a quartermaster young enough to fit in with university students.

To Mallory they didn't paint the most intimidating of pictures, even in their specific line of work.

»Essentially though, this stack of paper is what makes you M.«

Mallory felt his eyebrows climb up to his hairline. »So when you say youre starting facts when you said I wouldn’t be M if I didnt sign you meant that I literally have to sign this to assume the position?«

Bond smiled slyly. »Of course. What did you think It meant«

»also,« Q added pointedly »to become M you have to know what we will tell you. This rule was put in place for a reason - hundreds of years ago - so we really couldn't do anything about it, but since we are legally obligated to tell you, we put in a counter contract, which you are holding now.«

»Essentially, since we have to tell M our secret, M has to be someone who promised not to be a tattle tale, and to ensure that we combined the contracts of secrecy and appointment to office into one.« Moneypenny explained.

»I apologise for the paper mess« Bond smiled sweetly, relaxing into the couch.

»No you don't,« Q and Moneypenny answered in tandem, clearly annoyed.

The double-oh faux pouted »I do! It's hardly my best work. I've done better with less.«

Q squinted at him from behind his glasses and Eve snorted. Mallory felt like he was missing something essential. »You're a lawyer? I apologise, I have not yet had time to read your file-»

»No worries Mallory, I'm not. But I'm also not telling you anything ›till you sign.« Mallory smiled, trying to lighten the mood again. »Can you at least promise I'm not signing away my soul with this? I hardly have the time to read all of this right now.«

An uncomfortable silence spread around the room.

When Bond spoke his words were clearly carefully chosen and spoken slowly, enunciating each syllable perfectly. »I can promise you won't sell away your soul by signing this contract.«

For a second Mallory hesitated at the sheer gravitas of his words, before pulling out a pen and signing on the dotted line.

The other three smiled happily.

"Now," Moneypenny leaned forward. "You won't believe us, and thats fine. We'll make you believe."

Mallory had the feeling he'd just gotten pulled in a mess of extraordinary proportions.

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Carolina in My Mind” (Rated PG)

Summary: Things get a little spicy when Sebastian decides that Kurt and Blaine are going to start doing TikTok challenges... in part to exact revenge on his boyfriend for covering him in glitter and posting photos on Instagram. (1845 words)

Notes: It's not as lurid as the summary makes it sound XD Makes a reference to an earlier quarantine one-shot 'All The Glitters'.

Part 67 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3.

"We're doing TikTok challenges now!?" Kurt groans, sliding to a halt in front of his boyfriend, arms crossed over his chest before he comes to a stop.

Sebastian beams, flashing Kurt his iPhone screen with the app already open. "Ah. I see you got my message." 

"Aren't we already living through hell? Do we have to add humiliation to the mix?"

"You're one to talk! If you get to cover us in makeup and glitter and post photos on Instagram, I get to do this!"

"But that performance makeup contest was hosted by the ISI," Blaine points out. "What merit does a TikTok challenge have?"

Sebastian watches Blaine glide to a stop beside his boyfriend and pulls a face. "Well, Doubty McDoubterson, tons of people join TikTok every day, including figure skaters. You two were worried about staying in the public eye during the pandemic. This will be great visibility for us within the skating community."

"A-ha." Kurt shares a skeptical side glance with Blaine. "Now, why don't you tell us why we're really doing this."

Sebastian gasps, stumbling back as if punched in the face. "Kurt! I'm wounded! Deeply wounded! I'm being completely honest here! I'm only thinking of you guys, working hard to keep your names in the mouths of... "

"Before you say another word," Kurt interrupts with a finger raised, "may I remind you that you have a five o'clock sesh riding on this answer."

Sebastian's mouth hangs open, caught around the next word. But a beat later, he snaps it shut. "Fine. We're doing this because we've been on lockdown for about ten years and I'm bored to tears!"

"Nice," Kurt says, "seeing as you've spent all of quarantine with us."

"Will you be partaking?" Blaine rushes in before Sebastian can shove his foot any further down his throat. He's not being entirely selfless, but he'd rather not admit out loud that Sebastian's plan is a decent one, ulterior motives aside. Blaine has a TikTok account and has wasted plenty of precious training time scrolling through clips. Sebastian is right - a lot of figure skaters post on there, even some big names in their sport. It's a better platform for it than Instagram. If they pull this off, they could become TikTok famous, and that wouldn't exactly hurt when they make their comebacks.

"I am." Sebastian wiggles his camera in front of their faces. "I'm the cameraman."

"Of course," Kurt mutters under his breath. "So what's the challenge?" he asks, eager to get this over with, hoping he doesn't regret it too much later. "It is a skating challenge, right?"

"Of course it's a skating challenge! In fact, you guys get to perform your routines... " Kurt stares at his grinning boyfriend, waiting for the shoe to drop. And it does when Sebastian picks up a small paper bag off the boards and holds it out to them "... after you've eaten this pepper. There's one in there for each of you."

"I guess it's too much to hope it's a bell pepper," Kurt remarks as Blaine takes the bag and opens the top. He reaches a hand in and pulls out a bright reddish-orange vegetable the size of his thumb. Kurt recognizes it right away, his eyes going wide at the Carolina Reaper pinched between Blaine's fingertips.

"A little bit, yeah," Blaine says.

"What th---? Aren't those things illegal?" Kurt asks, on the brink of turning and running, leaving his friend behind to suffer the consequences.

"Nope. They're perfectly legal," Sebastian says. "And they won't cause any permanent damage. I checked."

"That's so nice of you."

"Come on! This'll be fun!"

"For you! You're running the camera!"

"I've got you guys. Look! I brought you some milk for after," he says, producing the smallest, middle-school carton of two percent in existence. How he expects the both of them to share that, Kurt doesn't know. It's probably part of the schtick, Kurt thinks, to cap off the hilarity - the two of them fighting over seven ounces of milk with their mouths on fire. "Also... " Sebastian deliberates when he feels himself losing ground, running through options in his head he hopes Kurt might jump at so he can get his TikTok "... I'll let you pick the next challenge. Then you can be the cameraman."

A malicious grin spreads across Kurt's face, but Sebastian squashes it with the stipulation: "But remember - whatever you make me do, Blaine has to do, too."

"Don't I get any say in this?" Blaine asks.

"No," Sebastian answers without looking at him.

"Well, do I get a turn at choosing?"

"Maybe... provided Kurt agrees to my conditions."

Kurt glares at his manipulative ass of a boyfriend, putting him on the spot in the name of social media currency. But what the heck? This could be fun. Plus, turnabout is fair play. He'll get Sebastian back. 

Oh yes. He'll get him back.

Besides, Kurt isn't a stranger to spicy foods. His dad has put plenty of red and green gremlins, each residing on different ends of the Scoville scale, in that disastrous chili he makes every fourth of July. How much worse could eating this one raw be?

"Fine." Kurt snatches the pepper out of Blaine's hand but doesn't bring it anywhere near his mouth.

Blaine, on the other hand, goes all in, grabbing his pepper out of the bag, popping it into his mouth, chewing like crazy, and then swallowing, probably in the hopes that it would hurt less if he did it fast, like pulling off a Bandaid. Then he skates off.

His plan doesn't work too well though. Thirty seconds into his backward crossovers, his face scrunches. He puts a hand to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut, cheeks flushing beet red before Kurt's eyes. "Jesus Christ! I can't see!"

Kurt fixes steely eyes on his boyfriend, filming and giggling like a fiend as Blaine attempts a triple Axel and singles it, arms flailing when he tries to fan his mouth at the same time. 

"I'm picturing a Speedo," Kurt says as he prepares to drop the Reaper into his mouth. "An embarrassingly tight Speedo, seven gallons of honey, an angry beehive... " He carefully places the pepper on his tongue. His salivary glands kick into overdrive when its waxy exterior makes contact, but he can't persuade his teeth to bite.

"Ooo," Sebastian coos, provoking him. "Blaine covered in bees? That's going to be hilarious! And I can't wait to see his face when he finds out it was your idea. But what are you going to make me do?"

That does it. 

Kurt's teeth clench inadvertently, catching the pepper as it rolls off his tongue and pummeling it to bits between his pearly whites. The burn washes through his mouth, spreading in an instant with the obliterated pepper sitting for too long on his tongue.

"Shit!" he yelps, swallowing what remains whole. He coughs violently, almost puking up his lunch. "Shit shit shit!" 

"Don't die," Sebastian teases. "Not for TikTok."

"Nice to see you have priorities," Kurt growls, overcome by a sudden urge to get as far away from his insufferable boyfriend as his skates can take him. 

Now he has to pull this off so he can rub it in Sebastian's face.

Remembering that Blaine has a head start on him, he forces his feet to move. A swiftly blossoming headache completely erases his new routine from his brain so he begins improvising, starting with the opening of his last Regionals piece. He opens with a pancake spin.

Big mistake.

Crouching low over his bent leg as he spins forces his mouth closed, everything from his gums to his cheeks aflame. 

"Nope!" he sputters. "Nope nope nope!" He ends his spin prematurely, hacking as he settles into backward crossovers. 

These are worse. 

Since he's pushing into the air with his back, none of it hits his face, depriving him of relief. He catches sight of Blaine skating as fast as he can with his mouth wide open, preparing to enter another jump. He performs a double toe loop, then another, then another. Kurt doesn't understand. Blaine doesn't perform doubles in his routine. He's beyond that. 

Then it hits him.

Blaine can do a row of doubles faster than he can perform consecutive triples. He's using rotational inertia to cool his face.

It's genius.

Kurt launches into the air, stringing together three of the most lopsided double Salchows he's ever landed. And he barely lands them at that, overestimating his edge and nicking his toepick. He gives up on his choreography altogether, performing whatever move he has to to shove ice-cold air into his mouth. Element by element, Kurt's routine devolves until his goal becomes keeping his mouth from bursting into flames. 

He can't remember the last time he flubbed up this badly. He and Blaine probably look like drooling dogs doing the most, but his throat burns so badly, he couldn't care less. Kurt's nose runs like a faucet, but nowhere near as much as his eyes, which he has the hardest time prying open. 

He decides to skate blind, praying he doesn't collide with Blaine, whose blades he can no longer identify on the ice. By the time Kurt strikes his final pose, he's puffy-eyed, sweating like no one's business, with his lower jaw hanging to his chest, wheezing as he sucks in mouthfuls of cold air. He can't hear much for the ringing in his ears, but he suspects Sebastian may be laughing his ass off. 

Why did he agree to this again? 

"How did I do?" he asks, skating back to his boyfriend, trying not to touch his tongue to his lips, or his lips to each other.

"Meh. You've done better," Sebastian replies, replaying the video over and over, snickering at choice scenes.

"Thanks, coach," Kurt seethes, wondering how well Sebastian would skate if Kurt shoved one of those peppers up his nose.

"At least you fared better than Blaine."

"Why?" Kurt pants, scanning the rink through the narrow slits of his swollen eyelids. "What happened to him?"

Sebastian jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "Took himself out of the running before his second Axel attempt, the poor schlub."

Kurt peeks over Sebastian's shoulder and spots Blaine, lying on his stomach, tongue pressed flat to the ice.

Kurt makes a face. He doesn't blame the guy, but still. 

Yuck. 

"Blaine? Honey? That's not a good idea."

"Yeah, weirdo. We have milk."

"I 'as saving da 'ilk for 'urt," Blaine explains, not moving his tongue while he does.

"Oh!" Kurt sighs, pressing a hand over his heart, overdoing the swoon because he knows how much it will irk Sebastian. The jerk deserves it. "That's so sweet!"

Blaine smiles. At least it looks like he does.

Sebastian grimaces. Great. Upstaged by a boy who looks like he just Frenched a patch of poison ivy. "Yeah, yeah. Cavity inducing. Get your ass up, Anderson. You're just making it worse. Besides, you're burning a hole through my ice."

[misterewrites]

Intro to Caitlyn 102 (Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone! E here with another chapter. been a busy week so this is a little late but with any luck I'll have the next underground chapter out this week or maybe another chapter for this story. dunno I'm just having fun in general. I hope you are all staying safe, wash your hands, wear your mask, get the vaccine if you can, keep each other safe! Feel free to tell your friends about this, reblog it or leave comments I'd greatly appreciate it. Trying promote myself is weird haha Stay safe and have a great week!

If you’d like an easier place to read the story, feel free to follow the link below

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/76796408

Summary: Caitlyn has her target thanks to one Finnrick Drift and now it's time to break in. After she takes care a few things at home.

-----

Caitlyn sighed as she was unable to keep her eyes off the slivered hue butterfly hair ornament in her palm, the multi-colored glass shards wings stretched wide like it was ready to take flight.

It was beautiful, it was the perfect and it was expensive.

The sliver was real, none of that cheap painted copper or tin or whatever hairclips were normally made of. The different shards of glass had been painstakingly put into place, each fitting together perfectly like a completed puzzle which must’ve taken months to do by hand. And true to his word, she could feel the energy of this item, the magical thrum of its power. It no longer felt cold and distant but warm, light and carried a familiarity with it. It was strange to say but it was almost like the ornament was breathing in time with her. Like it was a part of her.

Of course it was, it’s freaking magic! Frankly magic could do whatever the hell it wanted apparently. The real question was what hidden power laid within.

Somehow in the back of her mind she knew how this thing was supposed to work: it granted her some kind of temporary movement. What that meant she hadn’t the slightest clue. She also knew it would only last an hour and would ‘refresh’ at every dawn. Because that’s a thing. And she knew the spoken word needed to activate it. Which of course meant the word was angel.

Caitlyn frowned, unsure what kind of joke this was. Finnrick had specifically called her angel twice: once when they first met and when asked what exactly the hairclip did. Clearly it was some inside joke he was in on. She just wished she was too.

“Hey Cat, you okay? You keep looking at the wall.”

Caitlyn shook herself out of her stupor and found herself staring at wide brown curious eyes that belonged her baby brother Lou.

Louis or Lou as he preferred to be called, was 7 years old (soon to be 8 next month). He had messy black hair with a cute button nose. He wore clothing typical of a child his age: A red shirt with a hero splashed across its front and baggy shorts. His sneakers were worn and frayed which reminded Caitlyn she really needed to get him a new pair. Between his chubby cheeks and the gap in his smile he was the cutest kid in the world. True he was a bit pudgy due to his lack of height though if he was anything like their father, he would grow to tower over her.

Caitlyn sighed sadly: two years and still no word of her parents. One day they just up and vanished. She used to think they had died through some cruel act of fate or misfortune. In her weaker moments, she briefly wondered if they just left Lou and her behind to start a new life.

But now, with the realization there was a whole magical world on top of her own, she couldn’t fathom what could’ve happened to them. Her thoughts were endlessly filled with possibility and none of them good. None of them made the pain hurt less.

She pinched herself as hard as she could. The sharp pain cut through her wandering mind and focused her back on the task at hand.

“I’m fine” She gave a sly smile “But have you finished your sandwich? A nice man bought it for you and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Lou bounced up and down excitedly, pudgy hands tucked into a fist “Yes, yes I did! It was yummy!”

“Awesome!”

“Who was the nice man?” Lou asked quizzically, tilting his head to one side.

“Umm….” Caitlyn was torn: One hand she wasn’t quite sure where her and Finnrick landed on the whole trustworthy scale. On the other hand she couldn’t just say a random name. Lou had an uncanny ability to know when she was lying. Bordering on supernatural sometimes.

She glanced carefully towards her baby brother, searching for any sign of magic or mysticism in his chubby cheeks.

He scrunched his eyes wide and inched closer to her. She blinked, stumbling backwards at his sudden movement.

“I win!” He cheered with a bright smile “You blinked first!”

It took a moment for Caitlyn to process what was going on.

She laughed softly “Yeah kiddo. You win.”

“So what’s the nice man’s name? It’s not Jonas, is it? He was a creep.”

“Yeah he was.” Caitlyn awkwardly agreed. Her stomach churned unhappily at the thought of her ex. “No, his name is Finn.”

“Finn” Lou paused thoughtfully, eyes narrowed in concentration “Fiiiiinn. Finn! I like it! Fiiiiiiiinn. Can you thank him for me next time you two go out?”

Caitlyn rose a hand up no protest “Whoa, whoa, whoa slow down kiddo. We’re not dating.”

“But why not? You said he was nice.”

“I…” she glanced about the apartment wearily: Peeling paint, barely held together furniture and rent past due. So much work and effort for this ramshackle home.

“I don’t have time kiddo. I got to keep working if we wanna keep this place.”

Lou frowned, his face confused as if he couldn’t understand the word work “But you’re always working Cat. When are you supposed to have fun?”

Caitlyn ruffled his already messy hair lovingly “I’ll worry about that and you worry about having fun...and keeping up your grades.”

Lou’s ears perked up “What? Sorry, I think I hear Hedge calling me.” and without further warning, he bolted into his room, picking up his beloved turtle plush Hedge and dove under the covers.

Caitlyn couldn’t help but grin at his brother’s antics.

Then reality set in again.

She rather not deal with this newly found, barely understood magical world but regular folks weren’t paying the bills like they used to. Her fence was giving her less and charging more. Some bulltshit about paying off crooked cops or whatever. Sounded like a half ass excuse to her but they both knew she didn’t have much options.

Real gold. Any loose change from magical folks could easily lighten her burden and the promise of more sat in some entitled prick’s safe.

She couldn’t resist even if she had tried and she hadn’t tried to stop herself in years.

-----

Caitlyn waited till midnight to make her move. It was easier to blend in with darker shades and regardless of who she was robbing, she wasn’t in the business to make enemies. Especially enemies with unknown powers.

Lou was tucked into bed, nice and cozy with Hedge locked in his arms. Mrs. Palmer, a kindly older woman next door, agreed to watch him. They shared a silent knowing look with one another.

Her apartment was on the less than well kept side of town and everyone had their hands in some sort of shady business here. They tried their best to keep their noses clean but sometimes there were dips into less savory methods of getting cash.

Caitlyn was prepped for the mission ahead: A black blouse with black leggings. Thick black hiking boots for gripping walls and a leather black jacket to keep the cold and sharp pointy objects away from her skin.

She took a sad glance at the jacket, remembering all the times her father joked about handing it down to her when she beat him at arm wrestling. She could still hear dad’s hearty laughter echoing down the hall.

Caitlyn’s eyes hardened as she forced herself to look away “They left. No point in letting good gear go to waste.”

She took a deep calming breath as she ripped the tape off the butterfly knife she hid underneath her bed. She hated unnecessary violence but sometimes it took more than a good right hook to get someone off your ass. Better to have it and not need it than wind up with a bruise of regret.

She slipped the knife into her jacket pocket, slung her bag over her shoulder, nodded thankfully towards Mrs. Palmer and made her way out the door.

------

Caitlyn decided to take the long way: True it was halfway across town and took an hour of traveling but she always enjoyed the quiet that came with waiting. It calmed her, allowed her time to double and triple check her plans with the added benefit of shaking out any loose thoughts rattling in her head with each bump of the bus.

She stared at the beautiful ornate butterfly clip currently holding her ponytail up in the window. Caitlyn wasn’t sure what exactly Finnrick had given her but she didn’t want to use it at the apartment in case it didn’t do what it was supposed to. After all, suddenly having the knowledge in her head on how to work the hairclip was a bit unsettling. Okay really unsettling. Better to use it far away from Lou in case it exploded or something else nasty.

She got off the bus at last and hurried her way over to Andor’s, careful to cover her face whenever she spotted the odd store or traffic camera. She didn’t know who actually controlled them and she didn’t want to find out the hard way.

Andor’s Antique Shoppe (really cute elf boy) was the tallest building on the street: three floors that towered over the single story shops nearby. The street itself was nearly pitch black with a street lamp on either end of the block being the only source of light. Not a soul in sight.

Now was a good time as any to try out the hairclip. Caitlyn closed her eyes, exhaling slowly as she focused on the magical item. Goosebumps ran down her spine while the quiet, powerful thrum hummed softly in her ears. The word escaped her lips like it was second nature.

“Angel”

She nearly stumbled as a warm sensation filled her entire being. It covered her like a second skin and suddenly she was aware of the hairclip intimately: It’s weight, where it sat upon her head. She could feel the wings of the butterfly unfold, outstretched and ready to take flight. She heard the shimmering of magic forming into existence and she let out a surprised gasp when her feet lifted off the ground.

Caitlyn glanced in the nearby shop window, tears welling in her eyes:Beautiful translucent butterfly wings extended out from behind her. The outline of the wings were a deep rich purple with the multicolored glass stained shards gorgeously laid across its surface, each as elegant and refined as any art piece she’d ever seen. Each flutter and beat held her aloft, defying gravity’s hold on her. In the shadows of the night, the soft glow of the wings made her look like...

“An angel.” she whispered gently “I look like an angel.”

Caitlyn wiped the tears away. Technically she was a butterfly but this wasn’t the time for sentiment. She had a job to do and the longer she floated out here the more likely she’d get caught.

“Up” she murmured and the wings obliged: she rose silently skyward, each beating of the wings taking her higher and higher. The chill of the wind felt nice across her cheeks and she couldn’t help but relax in its presence.

Her original plan was to simply scale the side of the building and pick the window to gain entry but with her new found vertical movement, it was easier to just go up and over. She made sure she ascended from the end of the street and flew over to the third floor.

Caitlyn tilted her head quizzically as she found herself staring at a haphazardly open window.

“It can’t be this simple.” she narrowed her eyes suspiciously “It has to be a trap.”

-----

Caitlyn stood dumbfounded in the unguarded office of Andor.

She looked to her left then to her right, waiting for some sort of ambush to be sprung.

None came.

“Okay it is this simple.” Caitlyn whispered to herself, opting to just take this stroke of good fortune and run with it. She quietly willed the wings away and with a glitter of magic they vanished into thin air.

She crept over to the black safe tucked lazily in the corner, a stack of important looking documents just thrown on top without a care in the world. She quickly pocketed them and turned her attention to the roadblock in her way. True to Finnrick’s information, the safe itself was fairly simple and wouldn’t take much to break into. Either Andor was extremely confident in his security or really didn’t take being a crook seriously.

Not that it mattered to Caitlyn. It wasn’t her fault Andor hadn’t invested in a good safe.

She pressed her ear against the cool surface of the metal, trying to ignore the icy chill on her cheek as she strained to listen for the nearly inaudible click of the tumblers falling into place. It had taken two tries too many but she allowed herself a smug grin as the safe’s door swung open with a creak.

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed at the sight of a funny symbol painted onto the back of the door. It gleamed with a strange unnatural light before disappearing all together. Before she could began to guess what bad news that meant, the shouts and thundering footsteps echoed from below answered her question.

“Shit.” She whispered as she began frantically grabbing everything she could: Folders, stacks of papers and clanging metal in heavy pouches. It all went into her bag with as much speed as she could muster.

The footsteps grew louder with a frantic pace. They were already on the second floor if she hazard a guess. Caitlyn made for the window and without a second thought, flung herself outside with all her might.

“Angel!” She hurried muttered but the wings were forming too slowly. She already crossed past the next floor down when they barely began to outstretch from her back. Caitlyn was no physics major but even she knew there was no way she’d be able to slow down in time to avoid breaking her neck. She shielded her face with her arms and tried not to flinch as she waited for the pain to set in.

It didn’t come.

Instead she felt herself slow to a stop midair and just stayed here. Caitlyn opened her eyes to find herself bobbing up and down inches away from the pavement. There were a pair of legs as well: Black slacks and well polished loafers with the bottom half of a black tattered trench coat.

“Falling for me angel? I didn’t expect it to be literal.”

She glanced up to found herself staring at the one and only Finnrick Drift before her, a cheeky smile on his lips and his hand held out.

Finnrick waved his fingers over her and she landed onto the sidewalk with a soft thud.

He offered her his hand but she preferred to scamper to her feet in the most ungraceful way possible. Her cheeks burned with a pinkish hue at the sight of the P.I.

“Thanks.” She couldn’t keep the embarrassment out of her voice “I….thanks.”

Finnrick nodded “Anytime.”

“WHY IS THE DOOR LOCKED?!” A voice roared from overhead.

“CUZ IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE YOU IDIOT!”

Realization knocked Caitlyn out of whatever was going on here but as she turned to make a break for it, Finnrick rose his hand to stop her.

She glanced at him, lost and confused.

“The favor. I’m calling it in.”

“What?! Here?! NOW!? You got to be kidding!”

“I kid about a lot of things.” Finnrick admitted “but not this.”

“We’re standing outside the place I just robbed! This isn’t the time!”

“Yes it is.”

Caitlyn took a step back and cast a suspicious look at the private investigator “You were using me, weren’t you? You didn’t want to get your hands dirty so you let me borrow the wings so I can steal the thing for you!”

Finnrick shook his head.

“Don’t turn this around on me!” Caitlyn snarled

Finnrick answered simply “You were clearly better at locks and sneaking around than I am. I was actually having trouble figuring how to pull this off. Every option ended with a fight with Andor. That’s why I’m out here. Why I busted every cameras on the street and managed to keep the window open. To make sure you were okay.”

“Where even were you?!” Caitlyn tried in vain to recall seeing Finnrick on the street “it doesn’t matter! You want me to trust you?! Just like that?”

Finnrick sighed tiredly “Please angel I trust you.”

Caitlyn’s eyes went cold “That is your mistake, not mine.”

Finnrick stared back at her, his dark brown eyes warm and gentle “Trusting you is my choice. Breaking it lays entirely with you.”

Caitlyn felt the rage and distrust drain out of her and replaced with a tense exhaustion.

Angel. He had let her borrow the wings and while there was no way he’d let her keep them he did give it to her for a favor. A simple favor he promised.

She sighed in defeat “What’s the favor?”

“I need a paper from the stack.”

“And if I give it to you, will you let me go?” She asked, hating how weak and vulnerable she sounded.

“No” Finnrick spoke without hesitation.

Caitlyn's shoulders sagged with disappointment.

“I will protect you.”

Caitlyn couldn’t help but stare at Finnrick: His face was scrunched up in a rather cute sense of determination and his body was relaxed. It was clear he was trying to be as nonthreatening as possible and despite her recent outburst, he seemed more concern with her than himself.

When was the last time someone offered to protect her? Granted she didn’t need any but even Caitlyn had to admit it was nice to hear.

They stood there for a moment, the angry shouts and cursing of Andor and his thugs breaking the silence of the night.

“Which paper is it?”

“It’ll be a single sheet with some fancy silvery writing on it.”

It took her no time to find it: It was thicker than all the others, written on some ancient paper that was aged yellow with time but was otherwise intact. The shining silvery writing was indeed fancy but nearly impossible to make out. She could actually feel her eyes water just looking at it and she wasted no time shoving it into Finn’s hand.

“There!” Caitlyn cast a nervous glance towards the third floor window “I kept my end. Now keep yours. Please.”

Finnrick said nothing. He instead tucked the loose paper inside his coat and offered a hand to her.

Confused but running out of options, she gingerly took his hand in hers. She flushed at how warm he was. Caitlyn let out a yelp as Finnrick pulled her in. She tried to keep her cheeks from turning a lovely shade of red when Finnrick held her close.

Finnrick began chanting, his hands drawing unseen symbols in the air. Caitlyn could feel the same warm sensation from earlier wash over her as Finnrick’s spell took effect.

-----

“FIND MY STUFF NOW!” Andor screamed with bloody rage. He was typical of an elf: Impossible well kept blonde hair that flowed to his back, piercing forest green eyes. He was tall and lean with the tackiest suit anyone had seen. Reds and pinks in some sort plaid pattern. He called it looking good. His goons called it a headache. His pointed ears twitch unhappily as he struggled to listen for any sort of sound nearby but found nothing beyond the usual quiet hum of the city.

Andor groaned unhappily as he made his way to the window. His eyes scanned the street with a clarity not even the most technologically advance camera could match. His elf eyes took in every detail through the shadows: every imperfect scratch on the brick buildings, the asphalt embedded with the grooves of tires, cracked sidewalks that spread out like bolts of lightning.

Nothing. Not a single soul was in sight. The silhouetted street was bare and empty.

“FUCK!” Andor screamed into the silence “FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! FIND THEM NOW! CHECK THE FRONT DOOR CAMERA!”

“We can’t boss, it was fried yesterday, remember?”

Andor shut the window with a violent thud.

-----

Caitlyn let out the tense sigh she hadn’t realized she had been holding in.

She instinctively looked towards Finnrick only to find empty air.

“We’ll have to be invisible a little longer. They’ll be searching the shop before they think to start fanning outside. Andor will be making the process longer. Let’s get to the end of the street and I’ll drop it then.”

Caitlyn nodded for a moment before realizing he couldn’t see her

He guided her arm into his and the pair briskly walked down the street. It felt weird to walk invisible, arm in arm, while a childish elf baby raged behind them.

When they reached the end of the street, Finnrick dropped the spell. The two reappeared as quickly as they’d vanished. Caitlyn pulled away from the detective, her body shivering from the sudden lack of warmth.

“Thank you.” Caitlyn murmured softly.

Finnrick tipped his fedora “Any time sweetie.”

“What now?”

Finnrick scratched his chin thoughtfully “It is late and staying here would be a terrible idea. I suspect we both have places to be.”

Finnrick reached into his pocket and held out a piece of paper for Caitlyn to take. She stared at it, unsure what he was offering.

“It’s my fence.” He clarified with a smile “I take it you don’t know a magical one. He’s very trustworthy and he’ll give you a fair price.”

“Thanks” she took the slip of paper “I….thank you.”

“Any time. Good night angel.”

“Wait!” She reached for him but drew back when he turned to face her “Your hairclip? The one you let me borrow?”

Finnrick’s eyes twinkled with amusement “You didn’t hear me, did you? I told you that’s yours.”

Caitlyn could hear her heart thundering in her ears, cheeks ablaze “You sure? It seems like it costed a pretty penny.”

“Pretty amount of gold.” Finnrick corrected with a wink “And I’m pretty sure. I made it for you.”

“Why?” The question slipped out of her mouth “Why me? You barely know me.”

“Not true.” Finnrick nervously bit his lip “You barely know me. I’ve been waiting for you forever now. About five yearsin fact.”

“Me?” Her blush worsened “I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

Finnrick took her hand in his once more and softly kissed it. Caitlyn could feel a flutter of butterflies fill her stomach.

He hesitated to break his hold on her but he did so respectfully. Caitlyn could see his cheeks tinged with a pinkish hue as he began walking away.

Caitlyn stood there and watched the detective vanish into the night.

-----

Okay, so she didn’t just stand there dumbfounded as Finnrick walked away. It was probably a terrible idea and definitely not normal Caitlyn behavior but she followed him.

It wasn’t too hard given her newfound verticality. She just waited a few minutes, noted the direction he was heading and flew over the rooftops. Finnrick didn’t seem to be aware he was being followed. He walked the darken streets of Newton Haven, gesturing to the odd person or mythical being cloak in the darkness. His pace was casual and unsuspecting.

Her concerns about running out of time were unfounded as about 30 minutes later, Finnrick ducked into a fairly decent apartment complex. It was better kept than hers but only by a fraction.

A dark apartment on the third floor was suddenly flooded with light as Finnrick Drift made his way inside. He hung his coat and fedora at a coat rack that stood by the door. The apartment was itself humble: he had a battered desk placed by the window, his tiny kitchen was on one side and the door to his bedroom on the other. There was a large file cabinet next to a battered, ancient fridge. Not the place of a well paid private investigator.

Finnrick sighed tiredly as he rolled up his sleeves. The way his body hunched over with the slow debilitate movements he made, it was obvious he must’ve been exhausted. But whatever he was up to must’ve been important because he began drawing on his lovely wooden floor.

Caitlyn couldn’t really guess what the detective was doing beyond the shape he was making: There was a large outer circle and a much smaller one within. An array of symbols were drawn between the two circles such as stars, a crescent moon, squiggles shaped like trees with a language she didn’t understand.

It didn’t take Finnrick long to finish. He stood at full height, wiping the sweat from his brow as he reached into his pocket and pulled a baggie. Carefully, he opened the bag and pulled out a sliver thread that seemed to shine even at this distance. He placed it within the smaller circle and outstretched a hand like he was grasping at something. His eyes, normally a warm dark brown, glowed with blue arcane power. Magical symbols formed before him and the building groaned and creaked like the mere presence of magic commanded it to speak. He lit a match, his lips moving more and more wildly yet no sound could be heard from within. Finnrick closed his hand into a fist and the symbols sunk into the circle. He flung the match onto the sliver thread and the entire glyph blazed with fire for moment. There was a flash of a brilliant light and the circle had vanished only to be replaced by some strange figure.

She was much taller than Finn, so tall in fact the top of her head nearly scraped the bottom of the next floor up. Her hair was wispy, thin threads of sliver that reached to the bottom of her feet. Her skin was pale like moonlight and two dark sunken pits formed her eyes. Her frame was lanky and unnatural like someone had pulled and stretch her into her current form. Her clothes were torn and ragged.

The figure tiled her head curiously at Finnrick who dug into his pocket and pulled out the yellowed paper Caitlyn had given him. The figure was dumbstruck as Finnrick handed it to her with a warm smile. He offered a match to the creature but she shook her head. She gingerly held the paper in her hand, staring at it like was about to vanish into thin air.

Then she ripped it. She tore at it with a fierce, terrifying frenzy. She ripped and ripped and ripped until impossibly small bits of paper rained across the apartment. Caitlyn leaned closer as previously unseen shackles formed upon the figure’s wrist and cracked wide open. They slipped off and vanished into the air.

The figure let out a manic laugh as she shrunk, her limbs realigning themselves until she looked like a proper human sized person only a head taller than Finnrick. Her thin wispy hair fattened to thick, full braids of metallic silver. Her skin remained pale but her dark sunken eyes turned a coal black, full of life and joy. Even her clothes had transformed into a splendid elegant dress that sparkled like stars.

She cried, clear streams of water running down her face as she held Finnrick’s hands tightly. She wailed and shook, unable to keep her emotions in any longer. Finnrick let her, giving only a satisfied grin in response. She handed him a handful of gold, 3 maybe 4 pieces and began patting her dress as if looking for more. Finnrick stopped her, pocketing the gold and shaking his head no. The creature was not satisfied by this and began to gesture wildly about. Finnrick remained steadfast. He gestured to himself, lips speaking but Caitlyn couldn’t read whathe was mouthing this far away. The figure said nothing as a small child matching her skin tone appeared from out of nowhere. The child gestured to his wrist excitedly though nothing was there. The figure scooped the child in her arm and gently kissed his forehead. She glanced to Finnrick and was gone. A gentle warm breeze sailed past Caitlyn’s hidden spot, dispelling the frigid 2 a.m. air.

Finnrick chuckled to himself and despite on the verge of collapsing, made his way to the kitchen. He remained there for a few minutes and reemerged with a steaming cup of those instant noodles found at the store. He made his way over to the window and lifted it open. He placed the foam cup on the fire escape and hastily wrote a note which he folded carefully next to the food.

And with his job seemingly done, he made turned off the lights with a flourish of his hand and made his way to his bedroom. He closed the door and did not reappear.

Caitlyn flew over with the few minutes she had left in her wings. She picked up the cup of ramen, contently sighing with its warmth. She grabbed the note and read it aloud, curious what Finnrick wrote.

Caitlyn felt a chill of run down her spine as she read “Hey! Noticed you watching me and given you didn’t try to attack me, I assumed you had your reasons. If you’re trying to track me for your boss, here’s your warning! I will destroy everything they hold dear. You possibly included. If you just were a person or fae that was just curious, have a warm meal on me! It’s cold out so bundle up. Have a good one and don’t touch the window. I am a powerful warder.” F- :)

Caitlyn couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her lips as she saw the cute smiley Finnrick had ended the note with.

She held the cup close as she made her way to street level. Finnrick told her she’d understand in time. She wished she understood now but she shocked to find herself more than willing to find out.

[inactive-seathesilverlinings]

Little Yellow Clown Sub

As soon as you said it I couldn’t get it out of my head @womble1

2093

**

“You guys doing okay back there?” Gordon called over his shoulder.

“Yeah!”

“We’re good!”

He nodded happily at the responses. This had been a great idea.

“This was a stupid idea.” He heard Alan mutter, right next to his head.

Continue on AO3 or

“Oh, come on, they’re having fun!”

“Yeah, Alan, it’s not so bad!”

Gordon couldn’t see Brandon but knew his little brother’s boyfriend was somewhere up front staring out the glass floor with Wren and Piper.

“It’s just as cool as - -”

Alan cut him off. “If you say that the ocean is just as cool as space, I’ll break up with you.”

“Okay, it’s almost just as cool as space.”

“Ocean life is fascinating,”

Gordon was vaguely aware of Arthur moving past him somewhere to join Brandon and the girls, and a few moments later he heard Piper’s soft voice telling her three audience members everything she knew about any sea life they encountered.

“Come on, Stella, Wren, at least you guys agree with me that space is better. Right.”

“Yeah space is much cooler!”

“Space is more fascinating on the grander scale. There’s so much we don’t know and haven’t seen. So much that we can’t even begin to dream of reaching yet, but I get to see the stars every day,” Judging by the direction her voice came from Stella must have been somewhere at Alan’s other side. “The ocean is fascinating in a different way.” Gordon didn’t need to see her to see the calm smile of his second eldest brother replicated on his clone of a daughter (Not that he could really talk when it came to child clones).

“Next family outing is space…” Alan muttered, crossing his arms in a huff.

“Watch out! You nearly elbowed me in the head!” Leo squawked, Gordon heard his nephew shuffle away quickly.

“Sorry kid,”

“Hey, Dad?” Paxton’s voice came from somewhere behind him.

“Yeah Pax?”

“I don’t think Mum and Uncle Scott are impressed with our choice of outing.”

“What makes you say that?” Gordon tried to glance over his shoulder at his eldest, but he only got a face full of headrest.

“This.”

Something was passed over Gordon’s shoulder and he took it. Paxton’s watch was lit up in classic holographic blue and the projected forms of Scott and Penelope looked decidedly unimpressed.

Shit. He forgot he’d muted Four’s comms.

“Hey guys!”

They just stared at him.

“We’re having an oceanography lesson.”

Gordon was aware of Alan disappearing from his side but didn’t miss the protest of another fellow passenger as he laid out flat on the floor to join the group up front.

Scott sighed.

“Two hours. No longer,” Scott warned “Unless a rescue call comes in, then sooner.”

“And turn the comms back on.” Penelope added.

“Fine!” Gordon flipped the switch and the hologram transferred from the watch to Four’s main console.

They both looked pleased and the channel disconnected.

“Traitor.” He muttered handing Paxton back his watch.

Somewhere in the back Gordon heard George and Marie laugh.

“Dad!”

“You sold me out to your mother!”

“I’m not getting in trouble too!”

Gordon opened his mouth to protest more, but nothing came out.

“That’s… Fair…”

“Ow! Uncle Alan!”

“Sorry Gen!”

Gordon looked down to see Alan shuffling backwards, while still laying flat on the floor.

“What are you doing?!”

“Finding somewhere to stand up!”

Alan’s voice was behind him once more, and he had disappeared completely from view.

“Sorry, my fault.” Brandon came past next. “It’s getting crowded down there,”

“It’s crowded everywhere!”

At this point Gordon had no idea where anyone was, he just knew that Clover was somewhere over by Stella.

“You know, we’d have a lot more space if everyone would stay still.”

Complaints ceased instantly, and Gordon was aware of all eyes on him. Okay, maybe that came out a little harsher than intended.

“What I mean is, it will be easier if someone needs to move if everyone else stays still. No sudden movements, and no moving backwards.”

He heard murmured agreement through the cabin.

“How did we even get the thirteen of us in here in the first place?” He could imagine Gen looking around, examining the tiny space.

“Lots of squeezing and a hatch that technically shouldn’t be open.”

“Great,” Brandon sighed. “This isn’t how I imagined my death, but here we are, drowning at the bottom of the ocean because my brother-in-law thought it was a good idea to use a submarine like a clown car.”

“Relax, we’ve done this before…” Gordon dismissed him.

“Everyone was a lot smaller when we did this last time.” Alan reminded him.

“And yet, we all still fit.”

“Just.”

[razorblade180]

Cold confrontation

Strength is all that matters in a fight. Physical, mental, emotional, and intellectual. All of these were classified as strength. To have them all would make you a true threat. It’s what made Carmine a true threat, yet here she was, on death’s door. She gripped her pounding head and gritted her teeth from the sharp pain going through her pain, her body curled up on the numbingly cold marshlands that robbed her the pleasure of a warm end. Just the bitter cold and two pairs of eyes watching with interest. One set was the foe she so foolishly tried conquering, Shiva. It was a tall order. Carmine thought she had worked it all out. Apparently not. The proof was in the second set of eyes watching die. Her eyes. The cold warped eyes of a rose clone watching the original perish. A rose clone made from Diamond Dust.

xxxx

Warmth invaded her body like a wave. Carmine’s nerves jolted all at once and the girl sat up quickly, gasping as if she almost drowned. Her headache was replaced with haze as she her mind came to grips with the fact she was no longer in danger. She was on a couches. A warm one at that, wool covers and all. A fire place glowed nicely inside of a log cabin where several of her Interdimensional friends and siblings stayed. The ones that didn’t leave or was forced to not intervene anyways. Footsteps made Carmine look behind the couch to see Lucas walking with two mugs. He handed one to her and sat on a warm rug safely away from the fire, but close enough to give him warmth from the blizzard outside. He took a sip of his tea and looked at their girl, who was still a little blue.

Lucas:So....how does it feel to freeze to death?

Carmine:Never again.

Lucas:Yeah? Sounds about right. What happened out there?

Carmine:Your future vision didn’t show you?

Lucas:I wasn’t there. All I saw was me dragging your body through the door and when you’d wake up. Whatever went down in those marshlands is your story to tell.

Carmine:Then I rather keep it unspoken. Just know making a clone out of the dust Shiva creates when she conjures ice is a very stupid move. I guess that’s a given. Using an unknown weapon against a foe who clearly knows how it works was doomed to blow up in my face. *holds head* Ugh....crap...

Lucas:You okay? I found you holding your head.

Carmine:Did you see a clone of me with white hair and eyes with a light blue glint?

Lucas:No, Just you. Shiva saw me but didn’t seem bothered that I showed up or left with you. Didn’t hear anyone else besides her either.

Carmine:The clone must’ve vanished then. I can’t sense it. Good. Looking through their eyes and sharing info in more or less real time has always been seamless, effortless too.

Lucas:But?

Carmine:I...don’t know. That clone, it wasn’t me mentally linking with myself. There was feedback or something. It was more Shiva than me, and then traced that mental link backwards to me. Shiva, she got in my head. H..how the hell did she do that? How does Summer cope with that?!

Lucas:Discovering a new found respect for the girl? Wouldn’t blame you, but I think “cope” would be giving too much credit. Whatever the case, did you find anything else worthwhile? Watching you go off to die or comeback empty handed is very discouraging for Yujin and Tenzen.

Carmine:Not you?

Lucas:Oh you know me. I’m pretty good at knowing what’s a good attempt and what is a bust.

Carmine:So why do ask?

Lucas:Had to get the topic rolling somehow. Knowing the answer doesn’t do much without discussing the actual fruit of your labors.

The front door opened and Jacquelyn came walking in with her daughters. All three of them shook snow off their clothes and immediately went to the fire. Tenzen and Yujin must’ve heard the door open because they came from upstairs a few seconds later. Now the entire Lasting Embers crew was here. People from Shiva’s world were strictly forbidden from interacting with the beast and Carmine had sent her people away for their own safety. Between Lucas being a loner and everyone else, Carmine had no ground to stand on when it came to giving orders. They didn’t want to leave, so they didn’t.

Sienna:So how’s dying?

Carmine:Better then repeating myself.

Lucas:She didn’t enjoy the experience.

Jael:I would hope not.

Yujin:You all we’re out awhile. Learn anything?

Jacquelyn:Nothing I didn’t know before. The longer Shiva stays, the colder it gets. It either ends eventually, or we have to make it end. A test if there ever was one.

Tenzen:Shiva is like the main problem in a universe, right? How are we suppose to deal with a problem that grand? With no help from the residents either. Nick must know tricks.

Jael:He would’ve said so before leaving, or hinted. The fact that he doesn’t must mean he’s stumped. Like you said, grand problem.

Sienna:In his case maybe. Here, murder is a viable option. Killing her long enough to revert her back to Summer is an option.

Yujin:Ummm killing a friend-

Sienna:She’ll live.

Yujin:Yeah, and I’ll feel disgusted. I’m positive Summer wouldn’t appreciate being killed either. I wouldn’t.

Jael:Yeah but you’re soft and emotional about every-ow!

Jacquelyn:*pinching her arm* Be nice. Even if we down that route, whose to say we’d succeed? The Void has the benefit of allowing us to go all out but it might not be enough.

Carmine:It wouldn’t. You don’t think I tried a more lethal approach to Shiva. If I attacked to observe movement, then she did the same. It’s clear this is entertainment for her and allowing her opponent to learn what they’re doing is a flaw she happily lets show. However, murderous intent is met with more murderous intent. Her power is used to overwhelm, until you’re left helpless.

Sienna:Isn’t that you’re forte? Your style is based on overwhelming power and visual overload.

Carmine:Completely different. I am a high quality fighter that can create a quantity that doesn’t sacrifice the performance grade. Shiva’s power is based on raw nature. You ever hear of an army beating an avalanche? Some things just don’t scale.

Lucas:If that’s how we’re looking at this then that would mean to beat her would mean to endure. Running or prevention isn’t an option for this avalanche.

Tenzen:Enduring doesn’t sound like one either! Does anyone have the stamina?

Jacquelyn:Doesn’t matter. Her attacks more often than not will bypass aura because of the cold. Then there’s the actual environment. We’ll be cold while she’s barefoot on freezing water. A battle of attrition is the last thing we want.

Yujin:So the goal is speed and power. Okay, we have those in spades. Not to mention I stand the best chance when it comes to taking a hit if it comes down to it, so endurance isn’t completely out of the wheelhouse.

Lucas:We also have knowledge, current and future, to be accurate. Though acting on the the future events is another thing entirely.

Jael:How the hell is this chick contained!? Who’s putting her back in the metaphorical bod in her world? Nick survives this, regularly?

Sienna:Temperature is a factor. As well as the time she’s free. We unfortunately have her out for a long time and in constant frigid weather. We do however have a magical person to help. None of the technology though. Frankly our resources are limited.

Lucas:Talk about a troublesome situation. I’m not made for situations like this. *lays down* Insane odds, all of them pointing to ruin. It’s ridiculous. Nick sure is the real deal, smiling with a looming threat like that never far. Sibling or not, he must be terrified.

Jael:Really, I don’t think so. So what if he has a sister that’s dangerous, life threatening even? That doesn’t erase the love. It makes you wanna reach out more.

Sienna:Is that so? *smiles*

Jael:Don’t get a big head and assume things. *nudges her* Back to the matter at hand...

Carmine:What the hell is our plan exactly?

Yujin:You’re the one who said she’s a force of nature. I mean what beats that, besides a natural disaster?

She chuckled at her own words. For some reason she found them more than a little crazy, so it can as a shock to Yujin when she realized everyone was looking at her with wide eyes, like she’d solve the problem. Then, it clicked. She did provide an answer. All eyes shifted to their own force of nature, Jacquelyn, who was a little unsettled by the attention.

Jacquelyn:Hey now, don’t go getting any wild ideas.

Yujin:But can’t you literally change landscapes? Instead of of focusing on Shiva as an individual, we should focus attention on what’s around her. You can change that!

Carmine:No problem for a full fledged maiden right?

Jacquelyn:Is everyone forgetting the part where y’all are also participating the fight? You’d get swept up in whatever chaos I bring. Not only that, but doing something grand takes effort and concentration. I doubt I’d be able to back you all up faithfully, or protect myself well if Shiva puts her sights on me.

Lucas:Oh that won’t be a problem.

Jacquelyn:What?

Lucas:It won’t be a problem. *stares at fire* I have ideas. No idea how they’ll end, and I’m trying to see for once.

Carmine:That’s concerning.

Lucas:No, it’s perfect. Knowing would mean the plan is either to simple, or not chaotic enough.

Tenzen:Or you’re having performance anxiety and actually aren’t using your semblance.

Lucas:That’s neither here nor there. Alright, everyone listen carefully.

xxxxx

Snow blew ferociously around Shiva’s humble domain. The girl herself sat comfortably to watch a frog hop by. The little creature casually hopped in the cold water and then hopped onto her leg. Shiva gave it a gentle smile, then put nudged back to ground. The approaching body heat behind her gave her no sense of unease, even as a bullet flew passed her head and into a tree. In fact, Shiva found it a bit humorous. She finally rose up to lock eyes with Carmine, who stood with seven clones made from flame dust.

Shiva:Wow, you are a different breed entirely, aren’t ya? I think it’s roughly been a day at best, yet here you are, ready to scrap. Freezing to death would make a regular person filled with fear and think harder about preservation. Or least that’s what I would assume if you know, a person lived through freezing to death. Can’t till if you’re fortitude is immaculate, or your mind isn’t all there.

Carmine:I’ve been known to be a little on the intense and hardheaded side. You’ll have to do more than kill me to keep me down. That being said, no way in hell am I experiencing that ever again.

Shiva:Well good to know it fazed you. I was beginning to wonder who was the real beast here. Carmine Rose, an entertaining individual for sure. Not to mention clever. So....what’s the trick here? *looking around* is it hidden among the trees, or below my feet I wonder?

Carmine:Not sure what you mean. What you see is what you get. (I’m not only Clever one here apparently....)

Shiva:Tsk tsk, let’s not insult intelligence here. We’ve fought to often to do that. I studied you in the same way you’ve done me. Fire clones, obviously I’d sense them along with you, but you know this. You want me sensing them, focusing on it intently. If I had to make a wager, then I’d bet there’s more clones I can’t since from body heat, ice clones. Perhaps rock as well if they dig far enough. No different from slight of hand.

Carmine:Can’t you be dimwitted like a majority of people who love the sound of their own voice? Even if you are right, knowing slight of hand is happening doesn’t mean you can find what’s hidden right before you. Ice, rock, five, or maybe one, you don’t know scope of the plan, or that it’s already accomplished.

Carmine’s words left an air of mysterious. What was already accomplished? Shiva had no time to ask when the ground began to shake and a thunderous boom rattled the air again and again. Explosions throughout the marshlands were set off in sequence. The fire clones around Carmine darted into the trees at breakneck speed, leaving the original to run full force at Shiva.

Shiva conjured a pike of ice to run Carmine through. The attack was pointless however. Before making contact, Carmine bursted into petals. Yet another clone. The real one was never around to begin with. Somehow, the huntress managed sneak explosives around, most likely fire dust, undetected through the marshlands. The assumption about ice or rock clones was beginning to become fact. Not that it mattered at this point. Puny flames in blizzard didn’t bother her. It would take far more heat to hinder any of her moves. Still, Shiva now understood her opponent’s move.

“Her clones are among the flames, but I can’t sense where.” Shiva thought, realizing the heat from the flames was a smoke screen, masking the body heat movements. “Clever, but useless. Snuff the flames and-” a sudden surge of heat made Shiva turn around and get hit right in the face, knocking her to the ground out of nowhere. Shiva sprang up and looked around. Nothing, then boom! A strike against her spine. Again, she did not see it coming. Just a flash of heat before a strike. She sensed it from the left and put up an ice wall. The heat rushed at her, then made a sharp turn around the wall, hitting her gut. It wa still fast, but the detour not only lessened the blow, but was slow enough for Shiva to see the pink electricity left in its wake.

“Tenzen.” She growled, “Why didn’t I sense him before? It was just Carmine’s clones earlier.” The boy landed another blow to her head and tripped her before darting back into the distant trees. He was also using the flames to hide, choosing to attack from seemingly random locations. “He must’ve waited from afar entered after the explosions.” Shiva froze the water around with a stomp of her foot into the soaked ground. Tenzen would be in for a rude awakening on his next run by. That was the plan anyways.

Shiva felt the heat speed by again but from above this time. Back and forth, left and righ, Tenzen bounced the tree to tree. The speed of his movement brought a wind with him that spread the flames from tree to tree. Shiva sent out a wave of frost from a swat of her hand to put them out , but Tenzen was quick to light another. Shiva had to change tactics. She stomped her foot again which caused the ice to spread all throughout and up the trees near by. The ice then stook out like jagged spears.

Tenzen let out an auditable gasp before diving to the ground to avoid getting impaled. “Gotcha!” Shiva shouted, firing shards of ice from her hand in his direction.” The achievement was short lived when Yujin dropped in from above enveloped in her trade mark white flames, sword ready to strike.

“Sun slice!” An intense white flame flew at Shiva’s ice, making it weaker and hitting her directly. Yujin immediately took Tenzen’s hand then was sped off to hide.

Shiva waved of the bother attack. While hotter than the rest, Yujiin’s flames were only agitating. Still... “Okay, now I’m pissed.” Hot and run wasn’t her idea of fun. Neither was not knowing anything. At this point it was smarter to believe everyone was in the forest. Only one way to know for sure. Shiva started running to towards flames and blew them out with a breath. More were to her right from above and below. Weak or not, the flames had to go.

She raised her right hand out to send another blast of ice until a chain wrapped itself around her wrist and yanked her away. Shiva recognized it as Sienna’s and sent ice up it. “Bad move kitty!” She pulled hard once the chain went rigged, a heat signature still on the other hand. Long ice nails formed around her free hand for a counter attack. However, Sienna was not who she pulled in. It was flame clone of Carmine. “What?”

“Surprise...” the clone blew up in a fiery explosion that sent Shiva sliding into a tree. At the same time, dozens of chains shot from the flames to restrain Shiva against the tree; followed by the force of gravity to make it harder to move.

Yujin appeared once again from the flames. This time with a Carmine that held an identical flaming weapon. “Once more with feeling! Sun slice times two!” They both set flames that washed over the ground and set the trees ablaze before they rushed away from Shiva’s building anger.

Shiva’s body naturally froze the chains until they snapped, setting her free. Weighed down by gravity, Shiva grit her teeth and unleashed an immense pressure of sheer cold that would’ve frost bitten and freeze anything living within several feet. Even the white flames went out like candles. More chains came flying out to meet their end by Shiva. A mighty scream let a beam of ice fly from her mouth, shattering the attack.

“Carmine didn’t just clone herself. She cloned herself with her friend’s weapons!” Gravity around began to go back to normal. The flames on the marsh had spread in greater range, giving more room for everyone to attack. Shiva double backed to where she froze the trees. Quickly she conjured more ice and created pillars that were as cold as glaciers. Flames still only remained on the ouskirts and barely moved in. Shiva smiled and created Nick’s blade from diamond dust. “If this is the game you want to play then come on, try your luck!”

They must’ve been waiting for the invitation, because Lucas and Carmine appeared in a flash of pink lightning before her, charging with their blades ready. Ice particles built up to form shards that Shiva fired head at the duo. Carmine slowed her pace to get behind Lucas. “See this coming?”

Lucas chuckled, “Duh.” His eyes darted at every shared coming his way. Each position, distance, speed, target, nothing was unknown from his eyes. He brought his sword up to shatter two aiming at his forehead, then swung down to intercept four at his chest. He spun his katana left to block another seven and then tossed it his right hand, blocking another eight. He swung his blade forward as he transformed it into a blade whip that he used to hook a pillar. “All clear.” His blade reeled him up at out of Carmine’s way.

Carmine smiled, “Show off.” Her body lunged forward. Stamen was swung down to meet Shiva. An ice wall shoot up between them but was cleaned into by Carmine’s attack. Her blade met Shiva’s and th two looked at each other with a shared sense of anger and excitement.

“Awwww, someone needed help?” Shiva mocked. “I guess I should feel honored.”

“No need. Just feel pain...” Their swords separated briefly before clashing again. Carmine refused lose ground. Her blade countered a strike to the face, then returned the attack with a strike to the torso that was blocked as well. The slightest raise of Shiva’s foot made Carmine back step, striking the ground to send a shockwave that met forming ice spikes. A raise of her hand made Carmine grab Pistil and fired a slug shot before an icicle could spear her.

The recoil slid her back because of the ice. Range was the last thing Shiva needed to have. Another, more charged icicle was fired. Carmine shot the ground to launch swiftly into the air. The air around her became colder until ice itself formed into thin sheets as sharp as knives around her. “Lucas!” Carmine shouted. “I know!” The boy sent his whip her to grab and yanked her out of harms way and back to the ground. “Stay close!” He swung her at Shiva.

Carmine used the whip as a tether to slide herself back within melee range of Shiva. Her weapons merged to form her scythe and then was sent right at Shiva’s legs. Carmine overreached to shoot the scythe, causing it to pull backwards, sweeping both feet. Shiva was crafty though. The witch made a platform of ice that raised her just in time.

“Your mother loves that move.” Shiva looked up at Lucas and jumped at him. “Can’t leave you to your devices either!”

Lucas clicked his tongue and jumped as well. The two clashed blades midair with Lucas using his leverage to knock her back to the ground towards Carmine. They had to keep the pressure up a little longer, and Lucas knew just how to do it. He dropped to the ground and bolted towards Shiva. “Carmine! LADYBUG!”

Carmine immediately launched her forward and the two rapidly slashed against Shiva’s defenses by hitting her from both sides with alternating lunge attacks. Carmine would be lying if she didn’t think using this team was cool. She had to remember to try it with Kovu potentially.

Again and again, ice and Shiva’s blade barely deflected the onslaught of slashes. She made the mistake of jumping back to escape and was met with a pull of gravity that tugged her back into the blades, giving her opponents two clean strikes that made her knees buckled. “Gah! Son of a-” she hit the ground. Ice shot up like spikes that ended the team attack. A deep breath calmed her senses, focusing them on the heat. Her eyes locked on to a spot in front of her. “There...” Shiva channeled a large amount of diamond dust and shot it in that direction, causing an explosion of ice. The attack forced none other than Jael to fly up and out of the way.

“Shit, she found me.” Jael could sense the atmosphere around her become lethal and quickly dove back into the tree line. It didn’t stop ice daggers from forming inches from her and getting closer. She was finall met with no choice but to face them head on with her blade. It was by the grace of luck that a chain got her, yanking her up out of serious danger. And of course, it was her sister’s.

“What would you do without me?” Sienna smirked.

Jael smirked back. “Have less hair to clean out of the shower. Now let’s keep going!” They both went their separate ways and continued with the plan. Jael continued watching from the shadows with her sister and the ice clones while Yujin, Tenzen, and fire clones spread the flames as far as possible. “Just a little longer, then it’s all on you mom.”

Lucas was being put through his paces. Micromanaging every event was beginning to wear on his mind and it was starting to show when Shiva bombarded him with a flurry of attacks until one slash to his stomach sent him flying towards a tree. Fortunately, Jael’s semblance made the impact way softer than it should’ve been.

“Lucas!” Carmine shouted. She trued to run to his aid but was cut off by a wall of ice. “Damn!”

“You should keep your focus on me!” Shiva took Carmine head on with overpowering sword swings that cascaded ice shrapnel and air pressure that sent the huntress’s feet sliding back. Carmine’s eyes remained locked onto Shiva like a predator hunting prey. Her teeth were clenched and stance was solid, blocking with all her strength. Still, Carmine was only human. Lucas watched from the other side, stumbling up. His semblance reared its dual sided nature again, showing a glimpse of the silver eyed warrior falling to Shiva’s sword running her through.

He gripped his frost bitten stomach in pain. “Come on body, don’t fail me yet!” Adrenaline and an unknown passion to continue fighting pushed him forward as he ran towards the ice wall. Without having to ask, Lucas felt Jael make his body lighter right as jumped. He went right over the wall and was sent downward in front of Carmine as her block gave out; just in time to block a lightning quick thrust. Lucas slid his blade under Shiva’s at the handle then swung it up, separating the weapon from wielder.

Carmine didn’t squander the opening and made a b-line for it. She reverted her scythe back to a sword and put all of her strength into swinging it down on the ice blade, shattering it. Carmine then whipped her body around and blitzed Shiva, practically vanishing from sight before reappearing behind her to deliver a crushing hit against her ribs that sent her airborne.

Shiva rolled into her landing, head raised with anger. Blue dust flowed from her pores being like steam. The bone white color of her hair glowed with her eyes and her breath shudder out like a final breath. “Die...”

It was instant. One second there was nothing, then a moment later, the ground beneath them glowed with the pillars. Without hesitating, Lucas kicked Carmine outside of the pillars before ice enclosed it like a dome. Inside, hundreds of ice shards formed from every possible angle around him. How could power like this exist? It was too much, Shiva was too much. His eyes couldn’t find a way out, or a way to survive.

“I...can’t escape this.” Fear began to settle in, but before it could consume him, a miracle happenend. A rose, right at his feet. A clone burst into existence with its sword at the ready and back against his. What was once inescapable death in his eyes was changed the pattern of attacks shifted. The fear inside of him gave way to relief as he smiled. “You are just full of surprises. You knew I’d get you outta harm?”

“Don’t need future vision to know you’re the sacrificing type. Can’t have you saving my butt all the time. Better keep up.”

“That’s my line.”

Without another word, hell began to rain down on them. Lucas’s blade switched to whip mode for only a second to perfectly deflect eight before switching back to a blade. There wasn’t a moment his sword wasn’t carving through the and his feet pivoting in a small radius as Carmine swung her her blade just as fast, to the point the both of them became a blur of colors. The constant shattering of ice against steel echoed like broken glass. Neither Shiva or Jael could understand what they were witnessing. It was almost like a dance.

With every ice deflect they saw, there was at least fifteen they didn’t. Lucas and Carmine, constantly flipping and pivoting around each other to block an attack the other couldn’t. The relentless assault chipped their blades to the point of cracking, but they were not worried. At the same time, their hands reached for baton and sheath respectfully and continued their absolute defense. Silver and gold eyes never lost pace. Carmine’s pure athleticism protected Lucas while he did the same for her with his semblance. Seeing and predicting an attack like this was impossible, so he didn’t. Lucas was only looking at one future event, Carmine. Her moves, position, even what way she looked. All of this in just under a second, until, finally...

“She’s distracted...” He muttered.

“Yeah... just catching my breath. You kick hard.” Carmine took a glimpse at Shiva and smirked. A second later the real Carmine dashed by and swung her blade like a bat right into Shiva. The girl’s entire body was sent rolling across the ground and through several trees. Finally, the rain of ice stopped and the clone caught a fatigued Lucas that was rightfully out of breath. They had survived just long enough for Tenzen to come back with good news.

“We’re done!!!!!”

“Get us out then!” Lucas gasped. He was then swept away away along with the real Carmine to outside of the marsh. Yujin and Sienna awaited them. They were covered and ash and drenched in sweat. The sight of Jael flying straight up and out meant they were all clear.

The girl flew as fast as possible out of range towards her mother, who was also in the sky. They looked down at the blazing inferno that engulfed almost the entire marsh

Jacquelyn’s eyes glowed intensely, “she in the middle?”

“Several feet to the right of those pillars. That good enough?”

“Perfect, let’s see her snuff these flames.” Jacquelyn let a rather menacing smile show as she let the wind rage and swirl around the marsh stoking the fires. “Burn!” The wind transform the fire into vortex as wide as Amnity itself, and as tall as communication tower. “Jael, you’re up sweetie”

She nods, “right!” Jael extends her arms forward. Taking a deep breath, she exhales slowly as she focuses on pulling gravity to a single point above the vortex. Jael soars a bit closer to gain more control to the point where a small, dense orb forms. She then lowers it carefully along with her, drawing the down towards it like water rushing to fill a hole. She keeps lowering the point of gravity until the mass of flames have been compressed down to a closed sphere around Shiva.

Everyone begins to close in on the spot, ignoring the crushing hit and terrible ash of the incinerated forest. It didn’t take long to follow the heat of a contained wildlife fire. Somehow, they had done it. Shiva stood inside, firing ice in vain. Nothing was coming out, then she dropped to her knees with her hands pressed on her chest as she tried to breathe.

“H-How is...what is...?” She gasped, not understanding. The flames were indeed hot, but not enough to do this much this fast. It wasn’t the flames at all hurting her. Shiva couldn’t simply breathe.

Carmine sighed, “As much as I would love to explain this like it was my idea, I’m not the one with an A in science.” She looked at Lucas, but jealous.

He had finally caught his own breath and more than willing to pay himself on the back. “It’s not that amazing. The flames might not be hot enough to hinder Shiva directly, but they’re more than enough to mess with Summer, or anybody. It doesn’t matter how strong anybody is if they can’t breathe. That fire prison you’re in? It’s burned all the oxygen and moisture inside. No air. No ice. No problem.”

Shiva fell completely on the ground. Her vision began blurring the faces of her proud opponents. With the last of her strength, she sighed. “Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. About time I leave anyways. ”

xxxxx

“Summer?” A voice called through darkness, bringing light. The girl’s eyes opened to see many ash covered faces and tired eyes blinking at her. She sat up and looked around, confused. “Ummmm why are you all filthy and smell like smoke.” She caught whiff of herself. “Ugh, why do I smell like nature hobo who lit on fire?”

Carmine could and the others could only smile on relief as they fell to ground from exhaustion. “It’s been a long month....”

[rolyatswonderland]

TWST: A Mermaid’s Tale Pt.1

A while ago someone asked if I was ever going to post any of the stories I’ve written for Twisted Wonderland, and I can happily say that today is the day! ^7^

This’ll be a several part story (I can’t say for sure how many parts because I’m still writting it ;;; it’s mainly inspired by a lot of “mc gets turned into [blank]” imagines (” ^7^) but I hope everyone can look forward to it and enjoy reading it! 

And a big wonderful shout out to my bestie @blackevermore for helping edit my story! ;7; my writting needs work but her writting is super awesome! ^o^ So go check her out if you want to read some really cool stories!

Pt. 1 (here!) - Pt.2

______________________________________________

“Hrmm these instructions,” perplexed, Deuce stood over a table, looking down at an assignment sheet and an assortment of ingredients spread around the table. “I can’t seem to wrap my head around them at all..I can’t figure out if we need half of three cups or two and three cups of sea salt.” He mulled over the two different measuring spoons in his hands, his eyebrows furrowed together in a focused confusion. 

“Hah? That doesn’t sound right at all, lemme’ look at the paper” An equally confused Ace grabbed the paper from the table. His eyes quickly scan over the words before looking back up at Deuce with slightly judging eyes. 

“Dude seriously? This is ⅔ cups, so that's like uh-,” Ace began to count from his hand as he mumbled the numbers to himself. “That’s like ten tablespoons and two teaspoons” he sighed, putting the assignment sheet back down and taking the measuring spoons from Deuce before handing him the correct ones. 

“H-Huh? How did you figure that out?” Deuce asked, dumbfounded, not at all expecting an answer like that to come from Ace.

“After cooking all those tarts with Trey, I don’t think I’d ever be able to forget those lame utensils, especially since we had to keep trying over and over and over again when we got the measurements wrong.” Ace let out an annoyed sigh at recalling such a memory, leaning back slightly as he scratched the back of his neck. 

“I’d honestly expect you to remember all that, mr. honor student~.” Ace’s annoyed expression was soon placed with a teasing one, not missing a beat to poke some fun at his fellow classmate. 

“Hey don’t make fun of Deuce like that Ace, he’s trying his best, besides remembering measurements is hard.” Rolyat, who was currently stirring the mixture in the cauldron, looked over at her friends with an understanding smile, knowing Deuce’s struggle to remember things, a common trait she and him shared.

“Y-Yeah! See Rolyat understands!” Deuce huffed, carrying over a bottle of sea salt along with the measuring spoons with him to the cauldron, doing his best to keep a steady hand as he poured it out into the correct measurements. 

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, anyways what's next on the list.” Ace rolled his eyes as he laughed, turning his attention back down at the table to look over the paper. A curious Grim who had been trotting around patiently on the table grew curious, jumping off the table and onto Rolyat’s shoulders, startling her a moment but she simply sighed and smiled as she rubbed his head.

“Hey so, is whatever this stuff is really gonna turn those rabbits into a fish?” Grim asked curiously, looking down into the cauldron at the swirling cerulean liquid. 

“I think so, at least as long as we get the ingredients right.” Rolyat did feel slightly bad for the rabbits that were currently hopping around in the cage without a care in the world. Though the one saving grace to this project was that Professor Divus would teach them the reversal potion after they completed the first assignment, so they wouldn’t be stuck as fish for long. 

“Alright so next it says we need fish scales...uh-,” Ace looked at the paper then looked around, trying to find whichever container held the ingredient we needed. 

“Ah- I think they’re in here!” Deuce, who was returning the bottle of sea salt, found two small cans with fish-like symbols on them. Bringing them over to Ace, the duo opened them up, revealing two sets of scales inside. Inside one can were celadon silver scales, and in the other can were white pearlescent scales. While they both seemed to shine with the ceiling lights, it looked more like the white scales were glittering. 

“Uh..which one of these are the fish scales?” Ace asked, looking over to Deuce who then grabbed the lids of the can’s, turning them over in hopes of finding answers, but only gained a confused look on his face.

Deuce showed Ace the lids, the red head’s expression growing bewildered as he set the cans down and took the lids from Ace, “Well, they both just say ‘scales’.” 

“What the- Who the hell even labeled these!?” Ace tossed the lids back onto the table, letting out a loud annoyed groan as he leaned back and facepalmed, meanwhile Deuce just stood by with a hand to his chin in thought. 

“Hmm, maybe we could figure it out by the smell-?” His suggestion didn’t seem to bode to well with Ace who just looked at him like he had said something really stupid. 

“Dude their fish scales, they’re both just going to smell like fish!” 

“Hey well at least I’m trying to think of a solution!” 

“Oh geez.” Rolyat watched on with worry as the two boy’s started to get into an argument, even though the lack of proper labels on the ingredients was neither of their faults. ‘I’ll just keep stirring’ she awkwardly smiled as she continued moving the large spoon in circular motions, trying her best to drown out her friends' loud shouts. 

“Nyahaha! Looks like it’s the Great Grim’s time to shine!” Grim laughed as he hopped off the girls shoulders and back onto the table trotting over to the two cans and sniffing both. Causing both Ace and Deuce to stop their arguing and look at the flaming cat creature with confusion. 

“Aha! It’s this one!” Grim proudly held up the can containing the white pearlescent scales, his tail swishing back in forth in triumph. 

“H-Huh? Really? How do you know it’s those ones?” Deuce asked, Grim only seemed to snicker as if it were a silly question.

“The Great Grim’s sense’s are mightiest in his nose! Scales as nice smelling as these had to have come from an amazingly tasty fish hehe” Grim laughed, his imagination running wild at whatever ‘amazing’ fish he was thinking up, but Ace only seemed to face palm again.

“Grim are you kidding m- ugh we’re not gonna’ eat this!” 

“Hmph well whatever! I want to throw these ingredients in!” Grim grinned, turning away from the boys as he started walking on the table to the cauldron, can in his paws, but Ace swiftly blocked his path with his arm. 

“No way! We don’t even know if these are the right scales and you don’t even know how much we need to put in!” Ace shouted, but Grim seemed to duck under his arm entirely. 

“Of course I know, stupid! Don’t you dare doubt my gourmet hunter skills!” Grim growled back, but Ace grabbed onto the can only for Grim to pull back, the duo now in a tug of war.

“Give me the can, Grim!” Yelled Ace.

“Fgyaa! No way! Let go!” Grim retorted trying to pull the can back his way.

“Hey you two stop!” Deuce attempted to get in between them but neither Ace or Grim cared, the both of them tugging back and forth at the can until Ace’s hand slipped, and with the force of Grim pulling back caused him to go flying backwards.

“W-Whoa!” “Gyaa!”

Grims paw’s let go of the can, the trio now left to watch the can of scales go flying into the air. As if in slow motion, they each tried to reach out in order to catch the falling can, but none of them were fast enough until-

Plop

“Eh?” 

“E-Ehhh”

“The can it-”

“Fell into the cauldron-”

The whole can, fish scales and all, had fallen into the large pot, the trio watched warily as Rolyat looked confused, leaning over to look down into the cauldron curiously to watch the mixture. It seemed still for a moment until suddenly it began to bubble up at a rapid speed as the cauldron seemed to shake a bit, but before she could pull away quickly enough the liquid seemed to shoot upwards like a mini geyser.

“Ahh-!” Rolyat shrieked, feeling the liquid splash onto her as she fell back in surprise. And like most of the strange potions, as soon as it came into contact with both her and the ground, it started to evaporate away in a brief cloud of smoke. The four now coughing up a storm as the boys attempt to fan the smoke away. 

“Cough cough- H-Hey Roly you okay!?” Ace shouted, partially covering his mouth as he fanned away at the smoke that began to dissipate with their movement. 

“Cough! Y-Yeah I think so..” Rolyat coughed, rubbing her eyes of the liquid, she would need to get this washed off asap before anything could happen. But as soon as she tried to stand up she felt her lower half go limp, as if she could move her legs. 

“Rolyat are you..hurt..?” Ace asked as he kneeled to her side, once the smoke finally disappeared into the air the trio moved around the large cauldron to find their friend.  When they were able to finally see what had become of her they were in utter shock.  Laying on the ground was Rolyat, but instead of seeing her legs, all they saw was a glittering pearlescent pink tail. A mermaid tail. 

“Huh...H-Huh!?” Rolyat turned over in shock, doing her best to move what should have been her legs, onto to watch her tail flap up and down. 

“Y-You have a fish tail!” Deuce shouted in surprise, the boy seeming just as baffled as everyone else in the room. 

“Griiim!” Yelled Ace.

“Grim!” Dence followed suit with the same fury Ace had.

“Fgyaa-! I-It’s not my fault!” Grim tried to scramble away, only to be picked up by his scruff by Ace.

“Oh yes it is! I told you to give the can to me you fiery furball! Now look at what's happened!” Ace grew more annoyed as his eyes narrowed and locked in on Grim. The cat creature swung his arms and legs back and forth in an attempt to hit Ace. But Grim’s swings soon slowed to a stop as he looked over at his dorm leader, the girl now looking concerned as she examined her tail in worry.  He sighed, glancing at Ace who just grumbled and put him down. Grim, like a little kid who knew he had done wrong, slowly made his way towards the girl, just barely making eye contact as he kept glancing at and away from her. 

“S-Sorry Roly, the great Grim really messed up.” he muttered quietly, Rolyat looked over at him but smiled, moving her hand to gently pat at his head and ears. 

“It’s alright Grim, we just have to be more careful next time alright?” Grim seemed surprised when he looked up at her, but eventually he smiled and grinned.

“Yeah that’s all good n’ all but what should we do? You’re not gonna turn into a full fish are you?” Ace asked, crouching down and carefully poking at her tail. 

“I-I hope not, that’s the last thing I want.” She sighed.

“Hm, well maybe we should go to Professor Divus, he said that once we finish the assignment there should be a reversal potion right? So let’s go to him.” Deuce didn’t want to admit it, but going there would be the only way to figure out this mess. Deuce made his way over to Rolyat, kneeling down and giving her a look as if to ask something, it took her a moment to figure out what it was but when she did she simply nodded and he did so back. Being careful as he put his arm under her back and tail, picking her up bridal style.

“Ah, hold on, here-” Ace took off his blazer, placing it over the girl's new tail in attempts to cover it up, though the bottom half could still be seen dangling out. “It’s not much but at least everyone won’t be starin’ if they can’t see it right?” Ace grinned, and Rolyat couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Thanks Ace, let’s get going, the sooner we find a solution the better” The boys nodded, with Grim jumping onto Ace’s shoulders and Deuce following them out of the alchemy room. Though for some reason she couldn’t help but feel a tad bit light headed.

[whirlybirdwhat]

our souls in the ocean forever will be - chapter 1

the sequel to till the sea gives up the dead now a series titled sing songs of the sea ! !

READ ON AO3

Summary:

Zoro’s earrings chime in his ear as he looks over the side of the boat, to deep, dark blue waters and small, foamy waves and…

And… to where…

A human- like face, smiling, sharp fanged and brilliant, stares back.

“SHIT!”

-

Luffy drowned, once, but his call still rings throughout the seas.

(Things change when the Ocean takes what is hers, but dreams remain the same - bold, unyielding, and reaching for the crown.)

—-

Chapter 1 - join me on the sea today - zoro

Zoro has been lost for about five days now, or so he thinks. It’s hard to tell when the sun is high and the winds keep changing with the tide. Time melds together out on the waves, and everyone knows the sea is a cruel mistress.

Many love her.

Few can say she loves them back.

(And even then, they are often lost to the sway of the tides.)

Once he realizes he no longer knows the time or the place, he gives up keeping count of the times the sun has passed overhead, or the times the stars have winked at him in the night. He merely focuses on his growling stomach and broken swords, and tries to keep Wado sharp as all she is used for is a kind of of spear fishing.

He’s thirsty, but he won’t die out here.

Not in this desert full of saltwater.

(Zoro’s smart, but in the kind of way that doesn’t get you killed. He knows how to survive, even if he doesn’t know how to live, so he will get through this.)

He has a promise to keep.

(His thoughts, like time in an hourglass, are melding and slipping together. He’s tired. Men were not made to be in the seas embrace without company this long. It’s dangerous.

Those that were made for this suffering isolation aren’t really men at all, and Zoro may be more than mortal but he is not of the sea. He is not meant for blue solitude.)

He won’t die.

Splash!

His head turns slowly to the front of his small, small dinghy.

Zoro doesn’t think that was a normal wave. Was it?

Splash!

There. Again.

Was he hallucinating?

(Kuina had told him to quit his moaning yesterday…)

Splash! Splash!

Fine. He’ll get up.

Zoro pushes himself up from his relaxed (half dead) position and, using the sides of the boat and Wadi Ichimonji, crawls his way to the front of the boat.

The sea is calmer than it has been, but his actions still tilt the boat from left to right. He doesn’t trust it, but he doesn’t capsize, which is enough for him.

Splash!

Shishishi!

Oh. He was definitely hallucinating if he was hearing laughter out at sea.

(Has he heard it before?)

A pause.

Splash!

Eh. He was already up. Might as well look.

Zoro’s earrings chime in his ear as he looks over the side of the boat, to deep, dark blue waters and small, foamy waves and…

And… to where…

A human- like face, smiling, sharp fanged and brilliant, stares back.

“SHIT!”

-

So.

There’s a face in the water. After Zoro didn’t stumble backwards, he had gone back for another look, and there it was again, smiling and scaled.

(There’s a scar under this mysterious person’s eye, sloping like ocean waves, and black hair drifting about their face. Handsome, in a youthful, drowning kind of way, but scales drift across their face and their eyes are so wide, so they cannot possibly be human.

Perhaps they were, once. Just not now.)

A hand, sharp tipped and surprisingly not webbed (or was it? it might have changed -), had sunk its hands into the soft wood of the dinghy. Something silver and sunset scaled and long had been making soft waves, something else spinning about the creature’s waist.

Whatever the creature was, it wasn’t leaving. Just pulling Zoro along with the ocean currents.

They haven’t spoken to him. Not at all, unless one counts the laughter.

Shishishi!

Usually, his hallucinations yell at him, or at least Kuina does.

Zoro’s trembling and weak from hunger, and doesn’t know what he’ll do if this thing is real and attacks him.

But honestly? Honestly, as the day wears on and the sun starts to set and his eyes adjust to the darkness instead of the blinding light – Zoro finds he is starting to not care.

It’s something different.

Something that is not monotonous ocean spray and hunger.

Zoro moves to the front of the boat instead of the back, and casually lays his head down at the bow, face looking towards the sky.

“Hey,” He says, to nothing at all, expecting splashing in return.

SHISHISHI! He gets in response, accompanied with a giant splash of water on his head.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” He shouts, and turns to his right, and there, grinning, is the face from the waters.

They’re leaning towards him, entire torso pulled out of the water, eyes bright and close in the dimming light, and they are smiling.

Still.

It’s like their face is fixed into it – that grinning D shaped smile. Frozen in a smile for eternity.

The creature pauses there, indescribable eyes glinting at Zoro as he slowly settles down in the dinghy when it is clear the creature isn’t doing anything.

Well, I did speak to them, is all Zoro thinks as he stares back.

The world seems to hang still in that moment, and Zoro can’t help but think that if this were any other creature, he would be terrified right now. Paralyzed.

(Or angry, slashing, in the way that his terror manifests – in demonic rage and sword.)

And he is, but in the same way he knows the darkness in his chest and the gleam of Wado’s blade despite the red covering her. It’s a familiar terror, one that he knows he can grasp in his hand or mouth or soul and conquer.

Zoro moves once more, and determines that he will never flinch again.

“Hey,” He slowly repeats, shifting upright in the dinghy.

The creature slides down in response, until their head is resting on crossed arms, settling on the rim of the dinghy. The dinghy lilts dangerously to the side but with a quick balancing act, Zoro slides to the other side and manages not to get dropped in the ocean.

Shishishi! the creature says, and it’s a hey, back to Zoro.

“Do you… want something?” He asks cautiously.

Nah! You gave me food, so I’m just bringing you to the Away Place!

“Away?”

To the shore! Its away.

“Ah. Wait – when did I give you – actually, never mind. So, you know how to get there?”

Shishishi! The creature’s grin widens if that’s physically possible and they laugh. Yeah! I think!

Zoro gives a nod and relaxes then in the center of the dinghy. The creature, sensing Zoro’s tiredness, if not the way the sun is now almost fully below the horizon, turns back to the front of the dinghy and slips into the water. A hand grips the front of the dinghy, rocking it a bit, but Zoro finds it soothing.

A lullaby by the water, rocked by a creature of the sea…

Sleep takes him fiercer than it has any other day on this voyage, and he does not spare a thought to think that possibly, possibly it could be because this sea creature makes him feel safe.

-

Zoro wakes to a hand shoving at his shoulder and the lack of rocking waves beneath his back.

He opens his eyes and oh – it’s the creature, again.

Damn, he needs a better name than creature.

Shishishi! We’re here! The away place!

“Land,” Zoro says, absentmindedly, and looks around the white sandy beaches.

Finally, he thinks, jumping out of the dinghy to bury his feet in the sand.

It’s hot, but it’s land.

Huh. He wiggles his toes, feeling sand slip between the cracks. He lost his shoes at some point. And its day time – midday really. How long did he sleep?

Eh. Whatever.

He makes sure Wado is secure by his side, checks the shattered pieces of the other, unnamed blades to see if they are salvageable, then turns inland.

Splash!

Oh.

Right.

Zoro turns around, kicking up sand and letting it stick to his wet, salty skin. Damn. He needs a shower. But first…

“You going to be good here?” He asks the gentle waves.

Shishishi! Yeah! The creature splashes whatever they have for a lower body beneath the water, a grin adorning their face still. (Their teeth are sharper, now, Zoro thinks.) They slide slowly back down into the waves till they are near completely submerged. Their bright eyes hairs, sea crusted and inky, float above the water, the ocean wave scar beneath their cheek splashing above the waterline.

Hidden, unless you were looking for them.

“Alright then. Be back soon.”

And with that, Zoro goes in search of booze and maybe food under the blazing sun of a strange island.

-

It is walking to some sort of civilization that Zoro realizes the creature did not actually speak – that their mouth, shaped in that sharp toothed smile, never moved, never changed, never spoke.

Zoro just knew, in the same way he heard Wado sing when he dueled, what the creature was saying.

He thinks he should be more worried about this.

He isn’t.

Huh, Zoro thinks, and wonders if the creature has a name.

Then he realizes that the creature is also waiting for him back at the dinghy, even though they don’t have to, and also that the creature probably ate his boots and the scraps of bone and fish heads Zoro wasn’t able to eat and tossed overboard in his journey on the dinghy.

Huh.

He’s so lost in thought that he barely registers knocking into the signpost for the island town’s tavern and blacking out either to dehydration, starvation, or the hit to the head.

It’s probably all three, to be honest.

-

Zoro was called a Sea Child once. He’s sure he still is back home, with the way Koushirou and the others watched his back as he set out in his boat.

Lost boy, they, the old ladies in the village, said in pitying tones, as he wandered around the island, he keeps looking for the sea.

The sea calls him, they would say, ushering Zoro away from the shore, we can’t let him close, not yet.

It’s why he can’t make sense of the land, they say, worrying over Zoro coming back with broken teeth and moss in his hair, he belongs to Her. The Sea.

Zoro knew it was bullshit. Is still bullshit, really.

(He doesn’t mention how ever since he was nine, every time he has gotten lost he has ended up by the shore, answering some unknown siren call.

It sounded like a laugh in his mind, sometimes.)

He’s no Sea Child. He’s heard the stories.

Sea Child, lost child, dancing by the waves…

The kids who go out to the shore and never come back, the women who sing to the sea and hear its call, the men who die at sea and smile in the ocean’s embrace.

There were people who didn’t belong to the land. Whose hearts were the Ocean’s from the second they breath the sea salt air.

Zoro belongs to nothing but the destiny he creates.

Sea child, siren woman, singing to the waters…

Suspicious, though, the way the stories never mention what happens to the Sea Children after they embrace the sea. What is like, to become one with the ocean? What is it like, after a not quite death?

Questioning this, Zoro finds he does not care – for answers or for gods, whatever the choice.

He was here now, a sword in hand. His dream is what truly matters, not the sea or the voice of the wind.

Sea child, fishing man, heading to the depths…

He’s not a Sea Child, no matter what the old ladies say, or the way he ends up by the water and feels less lonely or the way the sea is a comfort.

He’s not.

(As he sets out to sea for the first time and doesn’t feel the urge to jump in the ocean, he worries that something greater has its control over him.

After all, how can he explain the laughter of the sea breeze?)

Sea child, Sea Child, Sea Child lost…

-

The old lady he wakes up to is pretty nice, despite all her ramblings about him being sea-shook and the strange tides in the bay.

She gives him a bit of money for the bar and sends him on his way, so in thanks he drinks out the bar and eats half the food without spending a penny. A sword with the intent to use it will get you that kind of reputation.

He does, however, bring a bit of pie back to the lady’s house next to the bar.

The actual coins he trades for two steel blades that should hold up to all the bastards in the East. Its good enough till he can get his hands on some real blades.

He’ll need them, if he wants to be able to stand up against Mihawk and his Great Blade Yoru.

(Zoro is perfecting the three-sword style for a reason after all.)

He’s now walking back to the shore, belly sated and a pleasant buzz in his head, with a bag of meat over his shoulder. The old lady also made him take some water jugs with him, complaining about how dehydrated he was, so that’s on a rope over his other shoulder as well.

The sound of splashing and laughter reaches his ears as he draws closer to the shore, a Shishishi! ringing out amongst growls.

It all sounds happy. Still, Zoro quickens his pace and for once, meets his destination on the first try.

(Like a compass, like a Sea Child, he can always find his way to the shore, but it’s not the shore he’s drawn to, not at all.

It’s the horizon.

(It’s the laughter))

He arrives at the waves to a strange sight.

A sea king, golden scaled and small, playing with the creature a little way out in the bay. Both of them are splashing, looking so out of place amidst the calm waters. It’s almost funny, in a way.  The creature is practically dwarfed by the sea king – who looks oddly puppy like – yet the sea king seems to defer to them as the bigger, stronger creature.

Then again, Zoro has no idea what half the creature looks like, so they may actually be longer than the sea king under the waves.

Shishishi! The creature seems to call out, laughter echoing across the ways and lilting in time with the waves, Shishishi!

Zoro can’t hear the sea king, but he assumes by the way the creature’s smile seems slightly wider that it is laughing in turn.

He walks closer to the shore, where his dinghy is still digging into the shore, and slings the food off his shoulder.

“Hey!” He calls, hand casually resting on his swords to keep them above the waves. “You! I brought meat!”

MEAT! The creature shouts, face still never changing, and they leave the sea king in a second to come barreling on to shore.

Literally, actually. They nearly miss Zoro, slamming head and shoulders first into the sand in their haste to reach the food in the bag.

“Hey! Chill out! I don’t want any, it’s all for you, dumbass.” Zoro maybe should not have called the sharp toothed sea creature a dumbass but if they haven’t eaten him now they won’t later.

(They never would in the first place, really.)

The sea creature takes it in stride anyway with that laugh again. Shishishi!

Zoro spares a smile, and tosses one big piece of meat to the sea king out in the waves. Hopefully that will stop the kicked puppy look it’s giving him.

It’s peaceful, for a moment, as Zoro settles into the sand. He didn’t get a shower at the village, but this is nowhere near the longest time he’s gone without, so he’s pretty sure he’s okay. He’s not dead at least, and now that he’s dry the sand doesn’t stick to his clothes, only to the feet still buried in the waves.

The creature shuffles for a moment, and pulls themself up out of the water almost entirely – all in order to drag the bag of meat even closer to them.

The shine of scales almost blinds Zoro, and he has to blink a few times to truly look at this creature.

Their torso is shorter than he’d thought, bare and toned in the light with scales the color of fire and silver drifting up from the back. (And drifting, drifting, scales never in the same place for more than a moment.) A fin, vibrant and color shifting, sits folded upon their back and is disappearing into their skin the longer Zoro looks. Clawed web hands, dripping with salt water and red juices, retract into tanning, brown skin – the claw tips remaining, sharp and deadly.

A tail, long, slender, and powerful drifts from the creature’s body and out into the waves, melding into the waves as they crash over them.  

Zoro spares a thought to think mermaid? Before realizing what ever this creature is it is more than myth or legend, or the very real people from under the sea.

It’s in the danger, this creature should be emanating, their tail is spiked and deadly, barbed, beautiful fins fading into the sand and waves in colors of the sun. It is nothing sweet or calm or safe – just fatal shine, drifting out to the waves.

(Every time Zoro blinks, it is as if the color of the scales has shifted – like the sea, ever changing, ever more dangerous, dark as ocean deep or green as tropic waves in the same moments.)

Yet – his eyes flash three times and there is no tail, just two legs, covered by shorts and a sash, torn, like from some sunken sailor.

A mirage – a hallucination, still? – but nothing is right about this creature.

Zoro can’t make sense of it all. Everything changes –

Except for that smile and that ocean sloped scar.

Even as the creature devours the food and opens their maw bigger than thought possible, it is still in the shape of that smile.

(Zoro wonders why.)

Saltwater drips off limbs and makes little splats into dry sand, marking where fins were and weren’t. The creature shakes their head and more water flies, hitting Zoro in the face yet – in the same motion, something more obvious, more important, more constant that the smile and ocean scar.

A straw hat, as glowing as a crown, draped across their back with a ribbon like blood wrapped around it.

(So human and alive, unlike everything else about them. This hat was not pulled from a drowning man. This hat was pulled from a dream on fire.)

The creature pauses for a second, as if sensing Zoro’s unwavering stare.

Their head drifts to look at Zoro, slow, the sun highlighting the points of their face and the wave of their hair. In an instant, they make eye-contact with Zoro, and it is as if the breath is pulled out of him by a siren.

He’s seen their eyes of course, before, in the moments the face smiled at him from the waters.

Just not like this.

This creature –

(Webbed hands drifting between human and sea, a smile like ocean depths and fear-)

This sea creature –

(Have you heard the tales? Of those that belong to the sea and no one else? Of those that hear the legends of the waves and know that they are real, like death and life?)

Isn’t a sea creature, not entirely, no -

(Zoro was called lost to the waves, once.)

They’re a Sea Child.

(And Zoro is lost to their pull – to their human-not-human body and ocean soul.)

-

He’s never quite wondered before, what Sea Children look like.

All that ever has come to mind is people with lost faces setting out to sea. Not what came after. Not what it looks like when the Ocean claims you.

(Koushirou, with a firm line to his lip, had mentioned the Drowned once. Bloated bodies of dead men and women and children – dead bodies of sailors swallowed up by the sea, that still reach up towards the light.

Run, he had said, if you see them.

Koushirou didn’t believe in legends, but he had an old boat from a distant country by the shore. There were scratches in hull made by gouging hands.

They weren’t Sea Children, not even close, but the stories said they were Claimed.

When a dead body from the sea washed up on the shores one day, Zoro had wondered if that was the fate of Sea Children.)

Now, he knows.

This Sea Child changes with the flow and ebb of the waves. A human drowned alive and still breathing, still loving, still dancing with the tide. Saltwater veins and coral eyes, skin breaking apart in scales and the way of tides.

The Ocean born again – that is what a Sea Child is. A child born to the land of the waters.

Zoro will never forget the Ocean’s claim – not now.

Shishishi! The Sea Child laughs, scales drifting across their face like sundrops on waves. You see now!

“Yeah…” Zoro says, and passes the sea king another stick of meat. “I see. The Ocean nice?”

The best! The Sea Child wiggles further up on the beach, tail seemingly gone leaving them to dig bare feet into the wet sand. You should listen to her sometimes.

“No thanks,” Zoro says to the Sea Child, and lays back on the shore. With four limbs, the Sea Child seems only a little younger than him, a little shorter, but power comes in waves off of them, like the shore in a storm.

Zoro shakes his head, and tries to distract himself from the thoughts of ocean, ocean, ocean – if he’s not careful, he’ll be wrapped in her sway eventually. He’s already wrapped in this Sea Child’s sway, if he can hear their voice.

The Sea Child chomps on the bone in their hands and swallows it whole with an odd slurping noise. Zoro raises an eyebrow, and is met with that laugh - Shishishi! - again.

(He’s gotten used to it, like he’s used to the chime of earrings in his ear and the swish of a sword. Constant, natural, and loved.)

Belatedly, he realizes he still hasn’t gotten the name of this Sea Child. Names are important, especially those of those lost to the sea, if they still remember them. It is better than calling them Sea Child forever, at least.

Well, it’s polite to introduce yourself first, isn’t it?

“Hey. My name’s Roronoa Zoro. I’m going to be the World’s greatest swordsman.”

(His name will echo across the heavens, but even children know that the sea only hears the will of men.

After all – what is a name, to a dream?)

The Sea Child stares at him, grin ever wider, and does not laugh. Instead, they reach behind their back and pull the straw hat up upon their head.

I know.

(How? Zoro wants to ask but it doesn’t even matter, does it?)

My name is Monkey D. Luffy! they say, loud and victorious and sure, and I’m the man who will be KING OF THE PIRATES!

The way he says it is like a promise and the way the unsaid words echo across the world is like a golden bell.

Zoro looks at this Sea Child who will be king, and feels something settle in his chest.

(This is the call of the sea – to dreams, to life, to adventure, to crew. Nothing less is equal, and nothing more is greater. It simply is, and it is a call that sings in every heart and every soul.

This is call of the sea.

And it will not be ignored any longer.)

“A pirate, huh?” Zoro’s own smile turns feral. “Where’s your crew?”

Shishishi! You’re the first! Luffy’s smile is kind but his eyes look into Zoro’s and take.

Zoro has no objection.

He stands, hand steady on his blades, and lets the wind chime through his earrings. “Then know this, Pirate King. If you ever stand in the way of my dreams, I will cut you open and leave you to the earth.”

He knows it won’t happen. The sea does not stand in the way of the dreams of the strong, and Luffy is the sea, or a small portion of it.

Still, Luffy does not falter.

Shishishi! He says, a Fine with me! Ringing loud in Zoro’s head. The Pirate King should have the world’s greatest swordsman by his side.

He stands to face Zoro head on, and he’s smaller than Zoro but his presence is just like the sea. Bright, giant, and everything. He reaches out a hand and Zoro clasps it in his own.

A crew of two, formed in an instant.

(It’s how legends start, anyway.

What’d’ya say to turning the world upside down with me?)

The sun shines brighter, the sea splashes higher, and the sea king lets out a victorious howl.

When Zoro lets go of Luffy’s hand, he knows he’s found his place.

“So,” he says, as Luffy turns back to the sea they will soon conquer, “Where to now, Pirate King?”

Where else? To the Grand Line! To Adventure! Shishishi!

Luffy steps forward into the sea then, laughing and changing all at once, and Zoro has no choice but to follow the man who will be king.

He climbs in the dinghy, slinging the water and remnants of food into the bottom, and shoves off into the water. Luffy grips the edge of the dinghy and drags Zoro forward, other hand gripping the edge of the sea king’s fur.

Starving, Zoro did not think he would end up being pulled by a Sea Child and a sea king into the unknown, but now…

Now, Zoro looks to the sun and dreams of victory.

Shishishi!

(Zoro is not a Sea Child. He does not belong to the waves and he does not answer the Ocean’s call. He belongs to Luffy, and the cry of the king is the only on he will bow too.

It’s the way of the world, after all.)

-

Splash….

Splash….

Splash….

“The sea’s happy today, isn’t it Makino?”

“Aye, captain…. I think Luffy might be happy today.”

(A tear trails down a cheek, not hidden by a straw hat.)

“Perhaps he found his dream, aye?”

“Sesese! Perhaps!”

(The sea splashes at the feet along the beach, as a pirate’s memorial is held for a boy who never set out to sea.

For Luffy, the small jolly roger on the beach seems to say, for the King.)

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 22- Dueling a Dragon

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU and Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

While the heist team discovers the identity of the dark mage, Mumbo is facing his greatest challenge yet. Fighting a dragon before all of the kingdom. Will he claim victory, or be burnt alive?

CW: battle scene ____________________________________________

“I don’t know how you’ve done it Mumbo, but I believe you can take it all the way!” Joe’s voice is toned in such a way that Mumbo can’t tell if he’s being sincere or teasing him. He’s going to go with the former, only because he’s not sure he could take the latter. 

“Ah, thanks Joe. It’s been a real doozy.” He wipes the sweat from his brow, trying to regain some energy back in his body as he stares across the field. Staring down his opponent. The one person Iskall said he wouldn’t have to worry about. Avon, the other finalist in the duel tournament. “I’m not quite sure if I can take her on, of all people, though. I mean...she took out Grian!” 

“Just barely, and only because of that trident she’s got.” Grian huffs, tucking his arms against his chest. “No matter what happens, Mumbo Jumbolio, we’ve secured our place in the labyrinth event. One way or another, we’re one of the two best guilds in the Chimaera’s championship. In all of Lairyon!” 

Mumbo nods his head, gathering his nerves and shoving them into a little box. He beat the best duelist from the Guild of Gedeon, he can beat one lone wanderer. The points the hermits have gathered throughout the games have held them at a steady first place. But he wants to win this event for them all. To prove to himself that he does have control over his magic. To prove to his father he doesn’t need him- he has a better family. And because he has a taste for competition. A taste that can only be satiated with winning. 

It’s just Mumbo and Avon. The winner takes the glory, a champion of the most popular event in all of Lairyon. Mumbo glances at the stands, the coliseum packed to the brim. Scrying spells are everywhere, and even a few cameras from the industrial cities. Everyone is watching him. It’s terrifying, but also thrilling. This is his time, in front of all of Lairyon. As long as he keeps control of his magic, and doesn’t pass out from his swimming head, he can win the most popular event in all of the Chimaera’s Championship. 

“Go get ‘em, dude. Show them how much of a mega wizard of doom you are.” Iskall grins, patting Mumbo on the back and sending him into the torchlight that illuminates the field. Massive orbs of light, blinding to look at and controlled by a single light mage, chase off shadows from the field and illuminate the two competitors. Avon struts across, until the two are toe to toe at the center. Mumbo realizes the dragonheart is almost a full head shorter than him, though her wings rise above the lion’s mane for hair. The daring gaze she gives makes him feel like the shorter one, however. Like the ground is sinking at his feet. 

“Duelists!” Their eye contact severs at the voice of Magistrate Dolios serenades the crowd into silence. Out of the corner of Mumbo’s eyes, he swears he can see sharp teeth appear from a curling scowl on Avon’s face. Dolios stands from his seat, sweeping his hands to both Avon and Mumbo. ‘I congratulate you both on your strength and magic to make it this far. You are both the pride of what Lairyon has to offer, and even I am astounded at the show of power I’ve seen from all competitors in these games. This will be a championship for the history books, and I can’t thank you two and your groups enough for braving to come here as non-guild teams.

“Unfortunately, only one person can be crowned victor of the duels. As much as I would love to see you both take home the medal. However, Avon- you know that no matter what, your team won’t make it into the Labyrinth run?” Mumbo looks over, just barely catching the tiny nod. More a bounce of her hair than a move of her head. “And you still wish to compete, despite being in third place no matter the outcome of this event?” Another short nod, and Dolios smiles. “A brave soul, I was hoping for some more fight left. Let the final duel begin...now!” 

Mumbo scrabbles backwards, avoiding the sharp prongs of Avon’s trident by a narrow width of air. He trips over his own two feet in the retreat, rolling over the grass and landing with his gaze glued on the crown box. Magistrate Dolios has seated himself again, watching with a glint in his eyes. Completely relaxed, unlike the crowd all around him. Even his fellow councilmembers are bellowing, though two are missing. He yelps, a ball of flame singing the verdant grass beside him. In his own mind, he can’t help but note how much it looks like the blight he saw in Gildara. 

Up on his feet, Mumbo takes a deep breath and faces his opponent. Avon, the very person Iskall said he wouldn’t have to worry about. Of course, his luck leads him to fight a draconic mage. She looks different- her wings have disappeared. Mumbo raises an eyebrow. Didn’t she always have- 

A poison barb rips against the black fabric of his robes. If he was a centimeter to the left, it would’ve dug into his leg. He doesn’t have the privilege to think- not against an opponent like this. But that’s what Mumbo does best! He leers to the side, casting his circle. His head swims, and the spell dissolves away. 

“Not now!” Mumbo whimpers, fleeing the barrage of attacks from his opponent. Can’t she give him one minute? One minute to concentrate, to focus on his magic? He’s doomed, he can’t do this. His magic is too unpredictable, like catching smoke in his hands. One minute it’s there, the next it’s gone. He tries to focus, to follow the guidance Grian taught him when they’d train. But his best friend’s advice is doing nothing to aid him. What he wouldn’t give to have Grian and the other hermits at his side right now. 

“You can do it Mumbo!” He leaps away from another throw of the trident, backed into a corner, but looks up at the sound of Grian’s voice. Cheering him from the sidelines, waving and whooping with wings spread wide. Iskall is at his side, getting rowdy as his voice carries with Grian. Every last hermit is there, cheering for him. Even Doc, Etho, and the rest of the heist team. What did they find? Zedaph, Tango, and Impulse are waving something he can’t catch, the shepherd mage on both Tango and Impulse’s shoulder. Right now, they aren’t focused on the heist, or who the dark wizard is. The entire guild of hermits is cheering him on. Him, some screwup multi-mage who can’t control his powers. Not like how Magistrate Dolios can control his multitude of magics. 

“Go Mumbo! Just cast the spell, don’t think! Just cast!” Xisuma shouts, his mask doing little to stop his encouraging voice from carrying to Mumbo. The draconic mage makes her steady approach, flourishing her trident. Mumbo closes his eyes, and does the one thing he’s never done before. 

Not think. When Mumbo opens his eyes, he can feel power rushing down his arms, lightning crackling against his sleeves and a burnmark where Avon once stood. She’s retreated, eyes wide but a smile cracking through the empty expression. “Finally, a challenge.” 

Mumbo steps forward, summoning another magic circle. At first, the circuits and lotuses wobble in the air, his magic unsure. But Mumbo can hear his friends calling his name. The crowd cheering for him. And the spell strengthens so bright he can hardly see past the arcane circle. He releases his magic, and unchains the beast within. He knew his magic was powerful. It was hard to summon for that reason, like trying to call on a storm. But once the storm appeared, on it’s own or by will, there was little he could do to stop it. 

Redstone slithers across the ground, wrapping around Avon’s ankles like vines. Hungry for warmth, for life. Dragging her down against the ground, Mumbo’s magic traps his opponent. In the light of the coliseum, black scales appear on Avon’s open skin, steeling herself to the attack. The redstone constricts, and Mumbo prepares to send a bolt of lightning down the redstone circuit. But Avon’s lips open, and fire escapes from her mouth and nostrils, like a firebreathing dragon. It burns away the redstone circuits, freeing the dragonheart. 

It becomes a battle, back and forth between the two. A poison barb traded for lightning, fire traded for redstone. Mumbo fends off attacks from the sky, from the ground. They both share a similar form of magic- lightning. Avon releases a bolt, only for her purple lightning to be met by Mumbo’s red bolt. The two wrestle for strength, but Mumbo wins out. The energy strikes Avon, throwing her across the field. Unfortunately for Mumbo, nothing can seem to keep his opponent down for long. No matter how hard he strikes, how fast he strikes, Avon doesn’t remain on the ground. She just stands up, brushing away the blood and mud, and retaliates. 

Exhaustion grows in Mumbo’s body, threatening to keep him down when a fireball burns the fraying fabric of a torn sleeve. He can hear the hermits, the crowd cheering for him. He’s not going down, he’s not losing. He wants to win. Avon rushes forward, her trident reeled backward. Mumbo’s just barely able to stop her, twisting redstone around and pulling it taut. They’re trapped in a stalemate, feeling each other huffing for air. Mumbo can see blood dripping from a wound on her forehead, her cheek. A swollen eye and torn lip, the black scaled pauldron dented from battle and her clothes torn and bloody. Purple fabric of her cloak brushes against Mumbo’s leg, causing a poisoned wound to sting. 

He’s not in much better shape, but he refuses to go down. “You’re really not going to let up, are you?” 

“Nope.” She offers a smile, then rips her trident away. Mumbo stumbles backwards, catching his weight and nearly crumbling on a wounded ankle. Avon is struggling to her feet too, wings reappearing and scales disappearing to gain dexterity back. Now’s the time, if ever he had a chance. Her wings seem to be the biggest targets. If he takes those out, maybe she’ll stay down. 

Mumbo raises his hand to start drawing his circle, and flicks his wrist in an attempt to get rid of mud that clings to the blood on his fingers. Just like that, his circle activates. Holy shit, did he actually summon his magic without having to go through the motions of drawing it? He’s never done that before, but he’s not going to waste the chance he has now. Mumbo strikes the center of his circle, and a storm of lightning and redstone rains down on Avon. Lightning strikes her down, throwing her back against the ground. The redstone clings to the dragonheart, capturing the electricity and sending the currents running back through his opponent. 

She stays down. The entire coliseum goes quiet as the dead, watching Avon struggle to get to her feet. Magistrate Dolios and the Council stand, opening their mouths. They’re about to call the match. Bruised, bloody, and broken, there’s no way Avon can get back from a spell that powerful. Mumbo must’ve won. 

A single syllable escapes Dolios’s lips when Avon rises to her knees. Steeling herself to the pain, gritting her teeth against the lightning still ricocheting down her form. Rising to her feet, leaning against her trident for stability. Her eyes remain closed, wincing against the pain. Dolios calls down. “Do you surrender, wanderer?” 

Her eyes snap open. Gone are the purple irises, calm and collected. All Mumbo can see is rage in elongated pupils, thin and sharp as a snake’s. Scales ripple across her skin, wings growing larger and spines appearing from the crown of blonde. When she opens her mouth, a snarl escapes through sharp, daggerlike teeth. “A dragon never yields.” 

Suddenly, Mumbo isn’t facing a draconic mage. The wanderer before him transforms, growing in size as more ebony scales appear across skin and fabric. Mumbo stumbles backwards, wincing and bracing against the pain as his rear bruises on the dirt below him. When he opens his eyes, he only sees scales and teeth. 

A dragon is before him, purple eyes set between purple horns, islands of color against black armor. The only way Mumbo knows for sure that’s Avon is the tufts of blonde hair at the crown of the dragon. He’s awoken the dragon’s wrath. 

Mumbo yelps, leaping away before purple fire engulfs him. He runs as far from the dragon as possible, about to cry despite the crowd in a cacophony around him. But no matter how far he runs, the dragon form of Avon is right behind him. Just a flutter to reach his sprint. Above the stadium, dark grey clouds swirl and lightning traps Mumbo from retreating. 

The next thing Mumbo knows, he’s on his back. Trapped between two sharp purple claws, the pressure of the dragon’s foot weighing down on his chest. Mumbo struggles, attempting to wriggle free to no avail. He’s trapped beneath Avon’s claws, trapped between the massive talons that could easily rip out his throat. The muzzle of the beast lowers down, purple flames rolling free from bone white fangs. Mumbo cranes his neck backwards, trying to avoid the impending doom. He closes his eyes, and calls out to everyone and anyone. “I surrender!” 

For a second, Mumbo fears Avon couldn’t understand him in that form, that nothing he could say would stop the dragon from burning him to a crisp. But after a second, the weight relieves from his chest, the heat of the fire ebbing away. 

“The victor of the duel goes to the wanderers.” Dolios calls, ending the duel event. “Do not fret, Mr. Jumbo, your team still has first place- I cannot wait to see your team in the labyrinth tomorrow.” 

Mumbo offers a weak smile, attempting to stand up but falling to his knees. He can’t tell if he’s just in shock from nearly being eaten by a dragon, exhausted from fighting for his life, or too wounded to stay standing. 

He’s not the only one beyond exhaustion. Avon steps back, her form shifting back to the sturdy human he knew when they first met. Her eyes roll back into her head, wings stretching out to try and catch her fall as Avon collapses to the ground. Passed out, the other two wanderers run to her side. Red calls for her to wake up, Ecto scooping the dragonheart into her arms and brushing away blood from her face. 

Mumbo leaps out of his skin, someone’s hand against his shoulder. It’s TFC. “Well done Mumbo, you really fought to the end. No matter, we’re going into the labyrinth challenge tomorrow!” 

“And we know who the dark mage is.” Doc whispers. Mumbo follows his gaze, past the wanderers, up the wall of the coliseum. Coming to rest on Magistrate Dolios, leaned back in his seat with one cheek resting against his hand. A charismatic smile rests beneath calm, friendly eyes. Eyes that stare at Mumbo and the hermits just a little too fiercely. “Come on, man, we need to get outta here. This coliseum is a trap.”

[generaldisdainn]

Four of a Kind

AO3 link

Rating: MA

Pairing: Kristanna

Previous chapter

The wonderful @epbaker​ drew some GORGEOUS artwork that’s loosely inspired by this fic that you can find here!

The lovely @ahtohallan-calling doodled the title of the fic which you can find here!!

Chapter 10

Kristoff, Anna, Ryder, and Sven were all scrunched together in that order on the sofa, watching Ryder play Breath of the Wild on the TV.

“So let me get this right,” Kristoff said, “it’s called ‘The Legend of Zelda’ but you’re Link, the guy who has to save Zelda?”

“Yup,” Ryder responded, most of his attention devoted to the game.

“And you’ve never been able to play as Zelda?”

“Nope.”

“Wow, sucks for Link,” Kristoff said. “He does all the hard work and Zelda gets the glory.”

“Well, she’s still a major figure in the games.”

“Yeah, but isn’t she not in some? And Link is in every one?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“So it should be ‘The Legend of Link,’ right?”

“Well, no, because Link is supposed to be a player avatar. You can name him other things, too, so it wouldn’t make sense if—”

“Wait, you can name him something else in this game but you decided to name him Link?”

“No, you can’t name him something else in this game, because this is the first game with voice actors in it, so—”

“These games have never had voice actors? ”

“ VETO!! ” Sven shouted and shot up from the couch.

“Aw, c’mon!” Anna complained. “I was having fun listening to them bicker!”

A few weeks ago, the four of them came up with the concept of a “veto”. It gave the person who declared it the power to force the other three to stop what they’re doing and do whatever that person wants.

“We are not spending another weekend like this,” Sven declared. “We are going to remind ourselves what real nature looks like. We’re going hiking, bitches!”

Sven was immediately met with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

“Ugh, fine,” Kristoff mumbled.

“Yeah, I’m okay with that,” Ryder said.

“Oh my god, that sounds so fun!” Anna squealed. “Are there good hikes around here?”

Sven seemed to begin to answer affirmatively, but the words caught in his throat. He pulled his phone from his pocket and rapidly typed something. A few seconds of silence passed.

“Yeah, of course there are!” Sven said. “Do you think I would use my veto power if I didn’t have a plan? We’re going to...um...” His words trailed off as he began scrolling furiously before suddenly stopping. “...Reinpikk Gorge! It’s got, uh...a big waterfall?”

“I’m sold,” Anna said, standing up. “Let’s go.”

“Alright, this might actually be fun,” Kristoff conceded. “Let’s be ready to go in fifteen minutes.”

* * *

Kristoff knew he was doing the thing he hates again; pretending to be excited about something for a girl. When he was seeing Samantha, he would always try to find time to go to wine tasting events with her, even though he couldn’t stand the people, the atmosphere, or the wine. She loved those things for reasons Kristoff could never really understand. Hiking was another one of those activities; he tried to feign excitement as much as he could for Anna’s sake.

But if he was being honest with himself, the moment they rolled into the parking lot of the park, he found himself drawn to its natural beauty. He’d done landscaping work on multiple occasions; he had to admit nothing compared to the real thing.

“I mean, just look at that, guys,” Sven said emphatically. “I hope everyone is now realizing just how brilliant of an idea this was, thank you, thank you, tips are not necessary but very much appreciated.”

“Give it a couple hours and a few dozen mosquito bites,” Kristoff said, half-sarcastically.

“You ever heard of bug spray, wise guy?” Sven said.

“I’m just excited to bother you guys about all the different plants,” Ryder chimed in.

Anna was silently giddy, eager to be in nature, happy to be past her problems with Kristoff, and glad to be such close friends with the three of them. As they all climbed out of Sven’s car and prepared for the hike, she could feel her excitement growing. She began to wander away from the car, Sven and Kristoff too caught up in their own argument to notice.

“Uh, Anna?” Ryder called after her. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, is nobody following me?” Anna said, spinning on her heels and noticing Sven and Kristoff still at the car. “Hey, guys! We get it, you’re an old married couple, now come on!”

Kristoff found himself once again getting wrapped up in Anna’s own excitement. He caught up to Anna while Sven did his best to stifle his urge to shout after him. After all, this was his idea, and if Kristoff was only going to be excited because of Anna, then Sven would happily take that.

* * *

“You have no idea where we are, do you?” Kristoff asked Sven.

“Hush, getting lost is half the fun!” Anna said, slapping Kristoff’s arm with the back of her hand.

“So I’ve been seeing a lot of perennial weeds, which means we’re near water,” Ryder said.

“Yeah, obviously we’re near water, Ryder,” Kristoff grumbled. “That’s one of the defining characteristics of a gorge.”

“No, I mean we’re closer to water than we were,” Ryder corrected. “There’s also a higher concentration of evergreens, which is important because--”

“Okay, we get it, Doctor Plant,” Sven teased. “Look, none of y’all had to follow me off the trail, I just wanted to channel my inner Lara Croft.”

Anna imagined Sven in a too-small blue tank top and tiny brown shorts. She was amused as much as she was repulsed by the image. She couldn’t deny that she wanted to be a little adventurous as well; she hadn’t been this immersed in nature since she and Elsa left her parents. She looked to her right and spotted a large boulder, covered in cracks and crags, perfect for climbing.

“Hey, Kristoff, can you come over here? I need a spotter,” Anna said, already walking off in the direction of the giant rock.

“Wait, Anna, we should--” Kristoff turned to see Sven striding confidently away, Ryder close behind studying the flora. He let out a sigh, but if he was being honest with himself, this was an ideal scenario. Just him and Anna, completely alone, separated from everyone by a veil of nature. Completely unafraid to be himself. He quickly caught up to Anna.

“God, I forgot how fun this is,” Anna remarked, searching for a handhold on the rock face. “Did you ever do anything like this?”

“No, not really,” Kristoff answered absentmindedly, his gaze affixed on Anna’s ponytail fluttering in the gentle breeze.

“I used to go rock climbing all the time,” Anna said as she began to scale the rock, making Kristoff nervous. “I used to…” Anna’s words trailed off as she strained to reach a new handhold, trying to plant her feet where her hands had just been. Kristoff moved under her, his hands upturned, prepared to catch her if she slipped.

“You used to…?” Kristoff said.

“Oh yeah, I used to have a dream of...of climbing Mount Everest, but...then I learned people...regularly die on the way--”

Suddenly, her hand slipped. She shrieked as she fell backwards off the rock. She hung in the air for a second that felt like an eternity. Her heart rose and her stomach dropped, her hands grasped fruitlessly at the air, and her breath caught in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the impact with the ground.

The impact wasn’t harsh or abrupt, but rather warm and soft, like she collided with a giant teddy bear. She opened her eyes to see herself in an undignified position on Kristoff’s lap, who had collapsed onto his rear end when she fell into him. She looked up at his face just in time to hear him say “Jesus, Anna, are you okay?”

Typical, Anna thought. The two of them going to Ikea alone, her falling onto him after being separated from the other two—it’s like the universe was begging them to get together. She pressed her hand to her heart and found that it was racing, threatening to burst out of her chest. It was the combination of exertion, shock, and the sudden contact with Kristoff causing her heart rate to skyrocket.

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine,” Anna stammered, readjusting herself, but not yet climbing out of Kristoff’s embrace. “I’m glad I asked you to follow me.” She laughed nervously.

“No kidding,” Kristoff said. “How about we just walk from now on?”

“Or you could carry me,” Anna responded, laying one arm around his neck.

Kristoff laughed. “No, no, we’re not doing that,” he said as he stood up, hoisting Anna onto her feet. “Come on, let’s see what’s on the other side of this.”

They started walking parallel to the wall Anna had just tumbled from. They didn’t say anything to each other for a little while, comfortable with just being alone with each other. Then, Kristoff remembered they had never finished their conversation from earlier.

“So, you wanted to climb Mount Everest?”

Anna snorted. “Yeah, but then I started doing research on what it would take to achieve that, and I decided it just wasn’t worth it.” Her eyes wandered, her words and her mind out of sync with each other. “And, y’know, I had other goals, more realistic ones, like starting my own animal shelter, officiating my sister’s wedding, making a perfect crème brûlée, stuff like that. And some of them I’ve already achieved, like making a group of friends on my own, being a better person than my parents are, finding someone I want to spend the rest of…” Her words trailed off. She snapped her head to look at Kristoff. “Am I talking too much? Is any of this TMI? I’m sorry if it is, I just--”

“Anna, you’re totally fine,” Kristoff chuckled. “Honestly it’s inspiring to hear about your goals, considering...well…” Kristoff shrugged, then hunched his shoulders. His eyes pointed at the ground. “...I’ve never really had goals like that.”

“Really?” Anna asked. “You’ve never wanted something so deep in your bones that you would, like, jump into a volcano to get it?”

“No, not really,” Kristoff admitted, almost embarrassed to say, knowing how driven and determined Anna was by contrast. “My parents...well, they settled in a big way. My dad had a promising career as an architect and my mom could have easily sung at the Met if she wanted to, but they both agreed to give up their potential to live much simpler lives.” Kristoff sighed, a sound dripping with regret. “Their decision must have rubbed off on me.”

“Wow, Kristoff,” Anna said, doing her best to sympathize. “I’m really sorry.”

“No need to be,” Kristoff said. “I’m fine.”

Anna knew he wasn’t fine. He looked at his face to see his normally boyish features locked in contemplation, making him appear older than he was.

“Well, you know what, Kristoff?” Anna began with an encouraging tone. “Now’s as good of a time as any. Let’s come up with some goals for you!”

Kristoff smiled a sad smile. “You don’t need to do that for me.”

“You say that like I don’t want to. I do,” she retorted. “Before my mom was a bitch, she was a guidance counselor, and I learned a few things from her.”

Kristoff’s sad smile turned cheerful, despite how he tried to oppress it; the tiny wrinkle on the bridge of his nose betrayed his true feelings. “Alright, why not?”

“Yay!” Anna clapped her hands a few times before gathering herself. “So before we come up with any giant goals, let’s start with small ones. Is there something you’ve wanted to do for a while, but never gotten around to it?”

Kristoff hummed and made a show of scratching his head. “Well...I guess...I’ve always wanted to read the ‘Lord of the Rings’ trilogy.”

“Okay, that’s a great start! Were you a big reader as a kid?”

“Yeah, but ‘Lord of the Rings’ always felt out of reach to me, and by the time I was old enough I--well, the friends I hung out with were way more into sports, so I just kinda stopped reading.”

“Well, I know it’s cliché at this point, but there’s no time like the present!” Anna’s words were bursting with optimism, their infectious energy broadening Kristoff’s smile.

“Yeah, it’s true. I guess that’s why it’s a cliché, right?” They smiled at each other, their eyes sparkling with each other’s light.

Anna blinked, coming out of her daze. “Okay, so what else?” She vaulted over a rock the size of a large dog while Kristoff walked around it. “Any places you want to see? Any skill you want to learn?”

“Oh my god, I used to want to play the accordion!” Kristoff said, his head craning back like the memory struck him in the forehead.

“Really!?” Anna exclaimed, a wave of giddy excitement rushing through her.

“Yeah, I used to be really into Weird Al when I was a little kid. But I ended up getting a guitar one Christmas instead.”

“Okay, so as your guidance counselor, I would tell you to get an accordion for yourself. As your roommate, well, not so much.”

“What about a guitar?”

“A guitar’s fine, a guitar’s nice and quiet.” Anna smiled broadly. ��See? You already have two goals: read ‘Lord of the Rings’ and learn guitar! Who knows, you might start a ‘Lord of the Rings’ band in the future!”

“Yeah,” Kristoff said, something else piquing his interest. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Anna said, suddenly nervous. They stood in silence for a bit before Kristoff turned and walked in the direction of whatever he was hearing.

“Kristoff, wait!” She hurried after him. “We shouldn’t--” she started to say, but then she heard what Kristoff must have been hearing too: a massive volume of water, a sound that could only be coming from a waterfall. She rushed ahead of Kristoff, eager to see what had sold her on the hike in the first place.

First, she saw the enormous granite wall of the gorge that the water had carved out of the earth. There were shrubs and small trees dotting the surface, but for the most part the rock was bare, providing a stark contrast with the scenery of the rest of the hike. Then she saw the top of the waterfall, the river above it roiling and churning as it tumbled over the edge. Finally, once she reached the lip of the gorge, she looked down at the entirety of the waterfall as a joyful smile spread across her face.

The water leapt and danced over the rocks as it tumbled downward. Mist lifted from the torrent, forming a rainbow that arced from the top of the waterfall to the base of the gorge. At the bottom, the water gathered in a swirling mass and continued deeper into the dense forest, unimpeded and unshaken, just as it had been at the top of the waterfall.

Kristoff caught up with her and had a similar, albeit subdued, reaction. His eyes were fixed more on Anna than they were on the natural splendor. He loved seeing her this happy and excited. He loved it more than he cared to admit to himself. If this is what it took for her to be as happy as she was, he would take her hiking every day at a different gorge each time, and then cut new gorges directly into the earth once she had seen them all.

He decided at that moment that he wasn’t going to hide his feelings for her anymore. He wanted to be with her.

“Hey, Anna?” Kristoff asked.

“Look at this, Kristoff!” Anna shouted, her voice full of reverence. “It’s so, so beautiful! I can’t believe it!” She giggled and laid a hand on Kristoff’s arm. “I’m really glad we’re seeing this together. It’s just so...so…” She waved her hand in the air, like it would help her find the right word. “...I don’t know, I just like doing things with you! When we’re by ourselves, you and me, I just feel like I can be excited, and I am excited about this waterfall and this hike, and you, and…” Again, she let her words trail off before elaborating further. “Sorry. Was there something you wanted?”

Kristoff stifled his nerves. He knew he fucked up once with her, but he also knew he’d been forgiven; it was part of the reason why it was so easy to fall back in love with her.

“...Can I, um...can I kiss you?”

Anna’s eyes popped. She wasn’t expecting him to say anything like that any time soon. Her reaction made Kristoff even more nervous.

“I mean, uh…” Kristoff stammered. “I--well, I would like to. I may? I mean, ay mi? Uh...may I? You don’t have to, I just, um…” Kristoff decided to stop talking. Fully expecting a rejection at this point, he began to turn away.

Anna didn’t even expect herself to do what she did next. She turned his face back toward her gently with her hand, stood on her tiptoes, and delicately laid her lips on his. Kristoff returned the kiss, a less graceful one, but a kiss all his own. A vulnerable, tender gesture of love.

Anna lowered herself, smiling gently, her lower lip tucked between her teeth. But when she noticed Kristoff’s unsure expression, her own face twisted in concern.

“Was that okay?” she asked.

Kristoff’s eyes darted to the side. His lips were pursed and twisted to the side. Anna was beginning to fear she did something terribly wrong.

Kristoff inhaled through his mouth, preparing to speak, but then shut it again. He tilted his head, like a puppy trying to figure out where a sound was coming from. Anna was all but mortified at this point. She thought her potential relationship with Kristoff was ending before it began, right before her eyes.

Finally, Kristoff spoke.

“Do you want to go out with me?”

All of Anna’s tension dissipated in an instant.

“Jesus, Kristoff, that was terrifying!” she shouted, slapping him on the arm.

“Oh my--I’m sorry! Really, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to be!” Kristoff apologized.

“I thought you hated me! It looked like you were--oh, yes, by the way, I’d love to--but holy shit, don’t ever do that again.”

Kristoff smiled bigger than he had all day, embarrassed by his ambiguous reaction to the kiss, but also elated that she still had feelings for him. “Okay, okay, I promise. But also, yay!” he said.

Now it was Anna’s turn to look puzzled. “So, what changed? You were asking for space not too long ago.”

Kristoff responded without missing a beat. “I can’t afford to deny my feelings for you anymore.”

Anna blushed and gave Kristoff a quick peck on the cheek. “I won’t if you won’t.”

All of a sudden, Ryder and Sven emerged from the trees behind them.

“Are you guys done?” Sven asked.

Kristoff and Anna both turned to face them. “Have you guys been right behind us the whole time?” Anna asked.

“It was Sven’s idea!” Ryder accused.

“Not that bullshit again,” Sven said to Ryder. “Not the whole time,” he continued, turning back to Kristoff and Anna. He walked right up to the edge of the gorge. “Guys, can you make way for your king, please?” That, or a variation of it, is what Sven would say when he wanted a picture taken of him. Kristoff stepped down behind Ryder and Anna followed him.

“I need a pic of me in nature to balance out my Grindr profile,” Sven said to Kristoff. “That was kinda the whole motivation behind this trip for me.”

“Wait, your what?” Anna asked, like she had just heard a grand revelation.

Sven, Ryder, and Kristoff all slowly turned to look at her, each with the same expression on their face. Complete stunned silence.

Without warning, Ryder did something that was uncharacteristic of him as long as Anna had known him. He burst into hysterical laughter.

“Anna thought you were straight this whole time!” Ryder said to Sven between fits.

“Well, no one ever told me!” Anna shouted in an effort to defend herself.

“Wait, you actually never knew?” Kristoff asked.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t pick up on it!”

“Anna, don’t even worry about it,” Sven said, opting to be the voice of reason. “They’re just being stupid. But yeah, I’m like, really gay.”

Anna’s face was beet-red, but she smiled through her embarrassment.

“Actually, you know what?” Sven said with a new inflection. “I’m a package deal. Everyone get up here, we’re taking a group selfie!”

Hearing him say that made Anna’s heart lift. She knew she was an integral member of their crew now, but every time someone reiterated that fact, it made her so happy she could burst. She wrapped her arm around Kristoff and led him up to the edge, Ryder following shortly after. Sven pulled out his phone, opened the camera app, and held it at arm’s length, trying to fit everyone on the frame.

“Kristoff, crouch down, Anna, be taller, Ryder, you’re perfect. One, two, three, say bees!”

Kristoff and Anna didn’t have to say anything to smile. They couldn’t stop smiling.

[ohmightydevviepuu]

our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter two

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter two / AO3

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective. She had blonde hair, green eyes, no family, and she was good at finding people; in fact, she proclaimed this on her office door. “Swan and Humbert,” it said. “Private investigations, missing persons, and bail bonds.”

Only lately, she’s been thinking that maybe it should say “Emma Swan: Loner, Loser, Complicated wreck.”

Her partner’s been killed on a case after she made a deal with her landlord to find what had been taken from him. But when she tracks a possible perp to a bar on the outskirts of town, Emma will find out exactly how deep the rabbit hole goes.

(a FULL rewrite of “the stuff that dreams are made of” completed as part of the 2020 Captain Swan Big Bang Rewrite-a-Thon)

--

always, always, always because of @thisonesatellite​, @profdanglaisstuff​ and @katie-dub​

thanks again to the amazing team at @captainswanbigbang​ and to the amazing, fun, clever, brilliant and supportive group of participants there who kept me going

--

CW:  canonical character death (minor character) rating:  T/M (mild implied violence, language)

Following the death of her partner, Emma needs some time to get her shit together--to get her life together.

It's not an option that's really available to her, though, and when she gets her first lead in several days what she finds is NOT what she expected.

chapter one | chapter two

--

The sheriff insisted that Emma accompany him to the scene.

To see the body.

Emma walked as if through a fog, clammy and penetrant, following Nolan to his car and was in such a daze that she had no sense of where they were when the sheriff stopped the cruiser in front of an alley with a blank grey sidewall. Lights flickered, and the shadows of people moved among the lights; there was a glow of red, and then blue, from the parked ambulance that mercifully blocked her view of Gra--the body. She recognized Graham’s favorite work boots with their brown leather laces that she’d bought for him after he’d tripped on a tail job and broke the old ones, on feet that lay bent at unnatural angles to each other. Two men stood awkwardly together on the far side of the alley, nearly opposite her, and Emma got only a vague impression of a tall man with dark hair and a shorter, stockier one with cropped brown hair.

“What happened?” Emma asked, her voice lowered--out of fear, or respect for the dead, she couldn’t quite say.

Nolan turned toward her with sympathy in his eyes. “We’re honestly not sure yet. Some kind of attack, it looks like.”

“Attack,” the short and stocky man scoffed, stepping forward. “Is that what you call it when someone’s heart is ripped from their body?”

“Their what from their what?” Emma hissed with a sharp look at the sheriff.

“We’re not sure yet,” Nolan repeated. “Do you know what he was doing here, Emma?”

We’ll run it like a basic skip-trace, he’d said, taking Gold’s description of their possible perp right out from under her and determined to run recon on his own, Emma ignoring the fact that he was right when he reminded her that they always ran ops that way--him laying groundwork before she went in on a mark.

“We are--were--working a new case, if that’s what you’re asking,” Emma said. “But we had barely gotten started.”

They hadn’t even gotten a name, but it was fine; Graham had done more with less in the past. Tall, slim, dark hair, unshaven, blue eyes, Gold had said. Quite tan. Fond of black and leather in his aesthetic choices. Looks about 35 years old.

Nolan was still looking at her, so she said, “I can’t tell you any more than that.”

Emma had just let him go. It was another job, a good job, and they needed the money, and they would have worked it out eventually, Emma knew that, only now they wouldn’t. They’d found him at a bar, Emma suddenly remembered, so that answered the question of where Nolan had taken her. Graham must have traced their mark here, and come to get the lay of the land.

That’s when Emma saw him, the beautiful man who stepped out of the shadow to restrain his companion: tall, slim, dark hair, unshaven, in black and leather. She was too far away to see the eyes.

He looked familiar, somehow, and Emma took a few steps back, out of the harsh glow of a streetlight.

“Do you know him?” Nolan asked, gesturing at the two men. “Either of them?”

“No,” Emma said, and Nolan gave her a squeeze on her shoulder before walking toward the ambulance. Her estimation of the sheriff should have dropped just a degree after he didn’t notice the hesitation in her voice, except that she wasn’t ready to answer questions--yet--about Gold and his case, and there was a man at the crime scene who answered to Gold’s description of their possible perp.

She shot a glance at the haphazardly-parked cruiser and sighed; it was a long walk back to her yellow Volkswagen Beetle, but getting a clean VIN for a marked cop car would probably be more of a challenge than getting one for the Bug had been.

--

The crime scene was clear by the time Emma returned, situating herself and her car with a view of the alley behind, she now knew, a bar called The Rabbit Hole. Emma wasn’t sure what she was looking for, just that she needed to be doing something, so she let herself lose track of time, finding the zone of just watching and waiting, her eyes casually trained on the back door where the Dumpsters were. She had her binoculars close at hand, on the seat next to her.

The door pushed open and someone walked out, his stride purposeful; Emma shifted forward in her seat, muscles tensing. He was tall and thin, his shoulders slightly broad, bulked up by the heavy jacket he wore. Emma grabbed her binocs for a closer look, the fingers of her other hand curled around the door handle, ready to get out.

The man walking out of the building was Graham Humbert.

She dropped the binoculars on the seat and wrenched the door open, almost vomiting onto the pavement as she spilled out of the car and stood there, paralyzed. Graham hadn’t seen her yet, he seemed to be looking for someone, his eyes scanning the darkness until the slight frownlines eased. A man approached, slight of frame, his hair almost shoulder length. He, too, wore a coat, a long one made of some kind of animal skin that was unlike anything Emma had ever seen before.

It--almost--looked like crocodile skin, with its shimmery scales.

Just as he came apace with Graham, he reached out toward his chest, blocking Emma’s view, and wrenched his arm backward.

Emma screamed, trying to force her frozen legs toward the men just as Graham’s attacker stepped back and Emma got a clear view of Graham’s chest as he fell. Emma ran across the street just in time to see Graham hit the ground, trying to angle herself so that she could catch him. The eyes that met hers weren’t Graham’s gentle brown, though; they were piercing blue, the hair dark and falling over his forehead.

“Hello, beautiful,” he rasped. It was the man from the alley, the dark-haired one, and he had a gaping wound in his chest. “And here I didn’t think you’d notice.” His eyes squeezed shut for a minute and then were forced open again, looked her dead-on with something like a smile.

“Just like Milah,” he said, “when the crocodile took her from me.”

The attacker, meanwhile, had turned, again before Emma could see anything more than a flash of skin that seemed to glitter in the dim streetlights, a giggle echoing in the darkness of the night.

Emma jerked awake and gripped the wheel, her entire body shaking in the aftershock of the nightmare.

--

The funeral was a different kind of nightmare.

The only faces she recognized belonged to their mutual assistant, Ruby; her grandmother; Mary Margaret; and the sheriff but Nolan was there with some blonde woman Emma had never seen before, a ring on her fourth finger marking her as the wife. An older man with a thick Italian accent, a red-headed man with a Dalmation and an umbrella, a group of shorter men and a thin auburn-haired woman in a severe habit--Emma had never seen any of them, had no idea that Graham knew someone in a religious order.

Emma had always assumed she knew Graham about as well as anyone, but it was a minor blow in a major string of them to discover she had been wrong. He was here--had been here--and they worked together, and now he wasn’t. And this--this was why she didn’t let herself get emotional over men. He--they--just, it would have been easy to let herself fall into him, “nice and easy”, as she’d said to Mary Margaret--but Emma was not nice, and she was not easy, and maybe she’d always worried that she would muck things up with Graham and it would end badly, but--

The people you love let you down: Emma had known that simple fact her entire life. But it was one thing to know that all of the people who were meant to care for her - her parents, Neal - were out there somewhere and it was a completely different thing to have Graham permanently gone from the world. It almost felt like he had been executed for the simple crime of caring for her in a way that she didn’t reciprocate.

Why are you so upset, he’d said.

I’m not upset, she’d said.

If that were true, he’d said, and she’d hated how reasonable he sounded, you’d be sitting at the bar having a drink with me and not running away.

But running away was what Emma had always done best.

That was way over the line, Graham.

I need to feel something, Emma.

Whatever it was he’d been looking to feel, she would never have been able to give it to him--and now he would never have it with anyone.

There’s a reason you’re alone.

And then, near the back of the small crowd, Emma spotted the one other face she did recognize.

In the bright light of the day, it was clear that his eyes were, in fact, very blue--just like in her dream. He looked appropriately somber and not at all like he was at the funeral of the man he’d killed, but Emma still had to wonder--and Graham wasn’t one to hang around alone at a bar for recreational reasons.

I’ve got this, Emma, he’d said, and it had been normal and reassuring. Doing a job always put her on her focus, bringing out everything about her and Graham that worked best.

Emma, Gold had practically purred, and the way he’d lingered over the syllables, separating them out as though he was tasting each letter, had made Emma’s skin crawl. It’s such a lovely name.

Near the front of the gathering stood a woman of medium height in sensible pumps and a black business suit, simple but exquisitely cut and fitted. She had dark brown hair that brushed the tops of her shoulders; her face was drawn and pale and at odds with her bold and perfectly-applied lipstick.

Regina, Graham had called her, the morning of the day he--when she’d stormed through the front door and past Ruby’s empty desk, into the back office as if she owned the place. I told you, I’m fine.

Regina’s grip on Graham’s arm suggested that she didn’t believe him. You didn’t look fine when you left, she said, and you don’t look fine now.

Graham had looked suddenly worse than Emma had ever seen him, and the look he had thrown her had been enough for Emma to excuse herself.

It didn’t feel like a dream, Regina, she heard as she pulled the door closed. It felt like a memory.

The service ended. Ruby and her grandmother had most of the mourners shepherded into Mrs. Lucas’ diner before Emma had properly gathered her wits enough to follow them out of the cemetery. She only knew where to find them from the text that had dinged on her phone as he was trudging toward her car, her boots making a soft thud against the pavement.

It was Sheriff Nolan who pulled her out of her thoughts and into the diner. The way his hand brushed against her shoulder was kind, and Emma had to repress the urge to lean against him. He was her roommate’s married boyfriend--she didn’t even like him that much half of the time--but the gesture charmed her, made her feel taken care of, and she needed that feeling more than anything. They stood there together for a moment until Emma nearly started to panic. Was she meant to say something now? Something about not breaking her best friend’s heart?

“Emma,” he said softly. “I know you can probably only see the worst in me, and I can’t even blame you.”

“I don’t,” she said, and she meant it, especially right then. Maybe for the first time right then. “I just think that someone I care about is going to get hurt, and I don’t want to see that happen. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Me too,” David said, and Emma knew it was the truth.

--

Emma, Mary Margaret and Ruby were seated at a small four-top table in the center of the diner; Emma watched the swirl of people as it moved around her, the murmur of polite and meaningless chatter forming a low hum.

“Hey,” Emma said, nudging Ruby in the shoulder. “Do you know that guy?”

He hovered on the periphery and spoke to no one, much like he had done at the funeral, and Emma tried to remember if she had ever seen the man--the mark--before last night. Anything to distract her from the terrible awkward silence she found herself trapped in as Mary Margaret sat mute. Behind them and to Emma’s right, David Nolan and his wife sat in a booth, and Emma stopped counting the number of times Mary Margaret abruptly shifted her posture after the fifth desperate attempt to avoid eye contact.

“Tall, dark and brooding?” Ruby said, smiling just a little. She took a sip of her coffee and the mug left a ring on the table. “I’ve seen him, yeah.” Her eyes closed and her forehead creased in concentration. “Now that you mention it, though, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t been in here since before you came to town. Works in a bar, I think. Left great tips.” “Which bar?” Emma said, already knowing the answer.

“The Rabbit Hole,” Ruby said. “And he is not the only hottie down there, the new girl is--” She sighed in appreciation.

“Did Graham know him?”

“I’d only ever seen Graham drink here, or with us at the office,” Ruby said, “same as you.” She frowned. “Why are you in detective mode all of a sudden, Em?”

“I just feel like I’ve seen him before,” Emma said.

“It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like a memory.”

Ruby gave her a sad smile. “Maybe was a lover in a past life,” she said wistfully, “but I’m pretty sure Graham didn’t know him.”

“I didn’t know Graham knew any of these people,” Emma pointed out.

“You don’t know anyone here?” Ruby looked startled.

“Do you?” Emma asked in surprise.

“Yeah, of course,” Ruby said. “Like, for as long as I can remember. Oh, honey, you’ve gotta get out more.”

“There’s a reason you’re alone.”

“I apologize,” a voice interrupted, regal and commanding and not sounding sorry at all, “if I’m interrupting your hen party.” It was the well-dressed, well-coiffed woman from the cemetery--Regina--and, having secured their attention, she turned her ire on Mary Margaret.

“Miss Blanchard,” she said. “Do you have any idea why my son would have your credit card?”

Mary Margaret’s already-pale face went ashen as she reached for her wallet. “My credit card?”

“Did I stutter?”

Mary Margaret unzipped her wallet and shook her head. “Not at all, Ms. Mills.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Clever boy,” she said.

“You didn’t give it to him?” Regina asked, suspicious.

“Me?” Mary Margaret looked genuinely shocked. “No, Ms. Mills, of course not. Why would I?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Regina insisted.

“I swear to you,” Mary Margaret said, “I had no idea it was missing.”

“As if,” Regina said, stepping away from the table, “I would trust any promise of yours.”

“Hey,” Emma said. “I think you still owe my friend her credit card.”

“Do I?” Regina said, utterly uninterested as she leveled her glare at Emma. Her eyes ran around their table and she let loose a small gasp, or perhaps it was a growl. Emma turned to see David and Kathryn Nolan determinedly looking anywhere but at their table and turned back just in time to see Regina focus back on Mary Margaret. The look in her eyes was unreadable, but her expression was pure murder.

“I’m not sure you of all people are in a position to explain to me what I owe to anybody, Miss Swan,” she said, and left.

There was a moment of stunned silence in her wake before Emma said: “So, she’s kind of a hardass.”

--

The sun was setting by the docks as Emma sat on a bench overlooking the ocean, watching the boats bob up and down. She wasn’t typically one for quiet; it had been the soundtrack for too much of her life.

“There’s a reason you’re alone.”

No, she’d never liked the quiet before, and she didn’t like it now, either, not when it felt somehow more ominous. But the sky was a perfect shade of blue today, the air crisp and clean, and here and now, in that moment, she felt peaceful for the first time since David Nolan had shown up at her door.

Emma closed her eyes and took a breath, counting three before exhaling.

When she opened her eyes and looked around, she saw she wasn’t alone: a man walked along the docks, his steps slow and deliberate as he came toward her, his features, at the moment, impossible to discern. They were the only two people for as far as the eye could see.

Emma leaned back, tilting her head toward the sky, and took another breath.

The man was closer, and Emma could see that he was dressed all in black as he made his slow, steady way toward her.

His hair was so dark it almost looked black.

He was twenty feet away from her at most when he stopped, and Emma recognized him.

“It would seem,” the man from the alley said, “that we have a quiet moment.” It was the first time Emma had heard him speak. His voice was rough and accented but somehow soft, as though he was trying to persuade her.

“This isn’t over,” Emma said. “My partner is still dead.”

“It never is,” he agreed. “But for right now, let’s enjoy the quiet moment.” He nodded, gesturing with his left hand toward the ocean in front of them.

Emma found herself turning back toward the water as a wave crashed and bubbled up against the rocky shoreline.

Only--

There was a flash of silver where his hand should have been; when she turned to look at him, he was gone, and Emma woke up with her hand outstretched.

As though she hadn’t wanted him to leave.

--

Emma stared at the door. Swan and Humbert.

Days had gone by and Emma went to the office and, faced with the door, worked on every case she could get her hands on except for the one that, she was certain, had led to Graham’s death. He had left no notes and had cleared his browser history.

Emma had a recovery program designed to undo just that. She kept it on a USB drive on her keychain.

She didn’t use it.

She was also ignoring the looks that Ruby kept giving her, in the morning and in the evening and when she left for lunch and when she came back. No new clients walked in and the files were getting thin--apparently all the world was as disgustingly in love as Mary Margaret, and they just hadn’t gotten caught cheating yet.

Swan and Humbert.

The police had no leads. There were no witnesses. Emma hadn’t slept through the night since Graham had kissed her and she knew only one thing for sure: she couldn’t possibly be expected to stay here. Emma felt perpetually on edge, as if she was just waiting to turn around and see someone else gone. David fucking Nolan had tried to explain to her the need for grief, right after he had tried to justify to her the lack of police progress, and she kept dreaming about the beautiful blue-eyed stranger, or suspect, or whoever the fuck he was--about whom she still had not told David.

One mystery, at least, had been solved. According to the fraud alert on Mary Margaret’s credit card, Henry Mills had been trying to make a payment to a Website called “WhosYourMama.org”.

“Henry hasn’t had the easiest life,” Mary Margaret said wistfully. “I guess it makes sense that he’d want to know--for sure, I mean, why someone would want to give him away.”

Emma froze.

“He’s a special boy,” Mary Margaret said. “Smart and creative but also lonely.” Mary Margaret had shrugged, and that had been the last they’d spoken of Henry Mills.

Emma had run a quick search on Regina Mills, however, and came up with surprising results: If Mr. Gold owned most of the property in this up-and-coming corner of the city, affectionately called ‘Storybrooke’ by the realtors and marketing gurus leaning hard into the old-timey-ness of it, it was Regina Mills who had her fingers in every pie that mattered everywhere else.

And she had known Graham.

But Emma had been correct in her first impression of the woman, she decided, watching as Regina settled herself into the chair facing Emma’s desk, her eyes taking in the small office as if for the first time, clearly unimpressed.

Regina Mills was a total hardass.

When Regina’s eyes met hers, Emma noted that Regina was unimpressed with what she saw there, as well. She was decked out in her ‘battle armor’ again today, though her curls were less curly and more limp and her eyeliner had probably slid slightly off her waterline and under her eyelid. There wasn’t quite enough makeup in her bathroom to color-correct the washed-out pallor of her normally fair skin or the rings under her eyes from the little sleep she’d been getting.

“Miss Swan,” Regina said, “I’m here to see what it is you’re doing to address the situation of Graham Humbert’s death.”

“Forgive me, Ms. Mills,” Emma said, “but I’m not sure what it is you expect from me in this instance. How did you know Graham? What made you come and find me?”

“I’m aware of your relationship with him,” Regina said.

“I didn’t have a relationship with him,” Emma retorted.

“Oh?” Regina’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose. “So nothing ever happened between the two of you? I have eyes everywhere, Miss Swan.”

“What--” the fuck does that even mean, Emma finished silently. Out loud she said, “Nothing that meant anything.”

“He wasn’t thinking straight,” Regina said. “He said that things between us needed to change. I don’t know what I did to you, Miss Swan, to deserve this--” She seemed to catch herself suddenly, her face going cool and impassive. “And clearly you’re doing absolutely nothing to find out what happened.”

“Mom?” the speaker was short and so thin as to be scrawny. He had brown hair, and his eyes--

Oh shit. Oh, holy shit. Shit shit shit shit.

He looked--

Oh, god, he looked just like--

Fuck.

“Henry,” Regina said sternly. “I asked you to wait outside while I spoke to Miss Swan.” Henry’s eyes, bright and wide, turned toward Emma and smiled.

You could have just asked me for the keys, he’d said, popping up from the backseat, holding them in his hand with a smile.

Neal’s smile.

“Emma Swan?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Emma said slowly.

Henry nodded, apparently satisfied.

“Henry!” Regina said, anger creeping back into her voice.

“Bye, Emma,” Henry said.

Emma turned back to Regina, who was completely in control of her emotions again.

The same could not be said for Emma.

“I don’t know who you think you are, Miss Swan,” Regina said, “but you led him to the path, putting thoughts in his head that were not in his best interest. He was self-destructing, and now he’s dead.”

Emma sat, silent.

“You were his...partner,” Regina continued, not bothering to hide her distaste at the word. “So I will say it again: what are you doing to address the situation of Graham Humbert’s murder?”

The words stung.

Just--she needed to get out of here. Surely there was someone in the area getting ready to skip bail--preferably far out of state with a big bounty. Two birds, one stone, and then the rent got paid instead of leaving Ruby to get evicted. Emma did not need Mr. Gold on her case, too.

“Excuse me, Miss Swan?” It was as if she had summoned him. “I--oh. Do excuse me.”

Emma definitely imagined the hint of a giggle underlying his words, but Regina Mills had a very visible reaction to her landlord’s peculiar mannerisms. “You,” she said, her entire body coiled like a snake ready to strike.

Gold walked in slowly. He was balancing a box on his arm, which he sat down gingerly on the desk that had been Graham’s before shifting his weight back against his cane. Turning his attention to Regina, he said: “I’m sorry, have we met before?” His voice was polite indifference, but Regina’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Regina Mills,” she said, standing and walking the few feet to the desk.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Mills,” Gold said smoothly, “I just came to express my condolences to Miss Swan.”

“We--I--have no update on your case yet,” Emma said, darting a glance at Regina.

For just an instant, Gold looked displeased, his features contorting and then smoothing themselves out. “I wanted to offer you these,” he said, gesturing at the box, “in case you wanted a keepsake. He rented an apartment that I own, and the police--”

“I don’t need anything,” Emma said, straining for politeness.

“I should tell you that these things are headed for the rubbish bin,” Gold persisted. “You really should take something.”

“All right,” Emma said. “Thank you, Mr. Gold.”

He inclined his head, almost a bow, and turned back toward the door.

Or at least, he tried to.

“If you would be so kind as to let me pass, Ms. Mills,” Gold said, “I’ll leave you to get on with Miss Swan.”

Regina stood stock still, obviously disinclined to move.

“Please?” Gold emphasized the request.

Something came over Regina as she complied, and Emma recognized the murderous expression in her eyes from their meeting at the diner. Gold nodded, first at Emma, then at Regina, and finally at Henry, who sat on a chair in the outer office reading a book so large it was practically falling off his lap.

The moment the door closed behind him, Regina whirled around to face Emma again.

“You were his partner,” Regina repeated, with actual venom in her voice now. “And clearly you’re doing absolutely nothing to find out what happened, so what is it that Gold promised you? What deal did he offer?” Almost to herself, Regina said, “What price were you willing to pay?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Emma snapped. “How did you even know Graham, anyway?”

“I don’t see how that is any business of yours, Miss Swan. But know this: if you’re working against me, I will see you fail, even if it is the last thing I do.”

“I can make it my business,” Emma said before she could stop herself. She stood up and gestured angrily at the door, her left hand waving emphatically. Regina’s eyes flicked to Emma’s wrist before she reached out, wrapping her hand around Emma’s arm. Her skin was cool and her demeanor remained calm while she inspected the tattoo of a five-petaled flower right at Emma’s pulse point, though her skin went pale and her cheeks flushed with emotion. Emma recoiled, twisting her arm out of Regina’s grasp. She backed away and massaged the skin at her wrist.

Her tattoo was private; almost no one had ever noticed it, not that Emma had allowed anyone close enough to see it in a very long time. It was a souvenir from a time--and a person--she’d moved on from, a way to remind herself that she was special.

It was meant to be a buttercup, but prison ink was not generally known for its artistry.

“Get the hell out of my office,” Emma said. “I have to get back to work.”

--

Emma wasn’t on edge any more.

She was definitely, unequivocally over the edge, knee-deep in a recovered browser history full of real estate listings.

In fact, Graham appeared to have looked up property records and appraisals for most of the neighborhood--all of it owned by Mr. Gold, apparently--and then focused on one property in particular, an historic place down by the waterfront that had been converted into a bar. Emma clicked through the photos of artfully exposed brick and Edison bulbs until she came upon a picture of the owner: tall, sim, dark hair, unshaven and blue eyes. He was working behind the bar, seemingly unaware of the camera; in fact, she couldn’t find any photos of him head-on once she swapped her search up to look for the guy who owned The Rabbit Hole.

Because that was the other thing Graham’s prepwork revealed--he owned it outright instead of renting it from Gold, making him one of the lucky few, maybe even the only one, to escape the curse of that man’s visits.

I should inform you, Gold had commented in that strange accent of his, when last our paths crossed he ran off with my wife and left my son without a mother.

But Graham had done it, had found the guy based on a rough description and what must have been a hunch--there was no one Emma knew who was better than Graham at finding people who didn’t want to be found. And Hook, whoever he was, definitely didn’t want to be found. Though he seemed to have gotten his fairy tales mixed up, James Hook had no social media profile, and neither did The Rabbit Hole, except for photos posted and tagged by drunk patrons snapping selfies.

Fortunately, dark bars full of people making bad decisions were kind of an Emma Swan specialty.

Emma’s dress was bright flamingo pink, tight and short and shiny. The heels were black and made walking difficult, but not impossible; Emma had plenty of practice in turning these shoes to her best advantage on the job. A black leather jacket completed the look, effectively dressing down the cocktail dress into something more like bar attire and making her, she thought, more approachable. A little less don’t fuck with me and a little more of an invitation to play with the fire, or at least make the resulting burn seem worth it.

It’s maybe more of an invitation than she intended, as a few brave souls risked losing appendages for the sake of a grope--really, it was a shame that Emma was trying to maintain a low profile. But she made it to the bar unscathed, and the gropers kept all limbs intact. Emma settled onto a bar stool and decided to keep her jacket on while she waited for James Hook to notice her. He stood maybe twenty feet away from her, flirting shamelessly with a trio of co-eds whom he probably should have carded. His movements were mechanical, practiced; though the co-eds didn’t seem to notice, Emma could tell that his attentions toward them weren’t even half-hearted. His smile was appropriately rakish but even from her seat it was clear to Emma that it didn’t reach his eyes.

Emma leaned back, closing her eyes and letting the bustle of the bar swirl around her while she waited. A black woman stood on a small stage tucked into a corner, crooning into a microphone a song that stirred something in Emma. She felt almost as if her worries could just float away, but the song was in the wrong key, leaving Emma feeling worse than she already did.

Because Henry had left something on Ruby’s desk: his book, he had left his book on Ruby’s desk.

Once Upon a Time, gilded and in an old-timey script on brown leather binding that had seen better days. The book was heavy and awkwardly-shaped and there was no chance in hell the kid had left it by accident. She needed to get it back to him, and she told herself that the reason she hadn’t already done so was because she didn’t want to deal with Regina again but really she wasn’t sure if she could look at Henry and not admit to herself what she knew to be true.

The song ended and Emma opened her eyes.

The smile was even more devastating up close; the eyes, even more blue.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said.

 --

@kmomof4​ @shireness-says​ @spartanguard​ @optomisticgirl​ @eirabach​ @winterbaby89​ @stahlop​ @teamhook @iamlaxdris71 @snowbellewells​ @carpedzem​ @scientificapricot​ @ultraluckycatnd @therealstartraveller776 @wyntereyez @nikkiemms @searchingwardrobes​ @courtorderedcake​

[crystalninjaphoenix]

MerMay Day Eighteen Cave-In

“Hey Sam! Look at that!” Jack poked his head around a branching formation of staghorn coral. Sam followed suit, swimming around to hover by his head fins. They were staring at a mound of rock on the ocean floor, watching as steam emitted from the top of its peak. “Volcano,” Jack whispered, grinning. 

Sam turned around, swimming backwards a bit. She butted the back of Jack’s head.

“What? Oh, you’re scared.” Jack petted the side of Sam’s scales to calm her down. “Don’t worry, we’re far enough away. We can just watch.” The ground rumbled. Jack grabbed the side of the coral to keep himself steady. Once the rumble calmed down, he looked back at Sam. He was pretty sure she was shaking. Sighing, he said, “Okay, we’ll skirt around the edge a bit farther back. Happy?” Sam flipped in the water, obviously happy.

The nearby area was populated by round, lumpy rocks with various kinds of coral rooted on their surfaces. The rocks had holes in them, tiny pockets caused by air. They must’ve been leftover from previous volcanic eruptions. Some of these rocks were piled haphazardly, causing tunnels and caves. Jack poked his head into one of these caves. He whistled. “These are big,” he muttered, swimming inside. He felt around the edges of the cave. “I bet I could sleep in here.” Sam butted against his head again. “Hey, I’m not saying I will, just that I could.”

The currents shifted. Jack paused, looking back over his shoulder at the cave entrance. The ground started to rumble. Jack gasped, grabbing the edges of some of the holes in the rock to steady him. But it wasn’t enough. Soon, the ground was heaving and bucking. It was all he could do to hold on tightly.

Crash!

Jack screamed as something crushed his tail. The ground and rocks shook for a few moments more, much less intense as it gradually stilled. Once he was sure there was no more movement, he fell to the ocean floor, gills working heavily. He twisted around to see the entrance of the cave had collapsed. He wriggled, gasping as he felt the rough texture of the rubble dig into his scales. His and the end of his tail were still outside the cave, but the rest of him was stuck inside. “Sam?” he rasped.

The tiny little discus popped up in front of his face, immediately nuzzling against his cheek to reassure him. Jack sighed, relieved. “Okay. You’re okay, here we go.” He looked back towards the entrance of the cave. There were tiny chinks in the rubble, letting in a little bit of light from the water outside. He turned back to Sam. “Do you think you can fit through those gaps?”

Sam swam back over to the rubble, hovering next to the largest of the chinks. Jack nodded. “Okay, looks like you can.” He tried to turn around, yelping when his tail suddenly flared with pain. “Alright, Sam, you have to go get someone. Jackie, maybe, I think he can lift this up. You got that?”

Sam tilted in the water, acknowledging that she understood. Turning back to the rubble, they swam through the gap, disappearing outside. He hoped Sam would be fast...well, actually he knew she wouldn’t be. She wasn’t a fast swimmer, and they were some ways away from anyone’s home. Jackie’s was the closest, but he was out frequently. Almost all the time, in fact. Jack sighed. He was going to be here for a while...he just hoped that it wouldn’t be too long.

The water outside darkened. Jack settled down onto the rock floor of the cave and tried not to move his tail too much. Time passed, and Jack got bored. He tried humming an old human song he’d heard before, but forgot how the tune went. He tried talking to himself, but he ended up going in circles about how he was stuck in this cave, and his thoughts got darker with each ring around the cycle. Slowly, he started to notice how hungry he was. He hadn’t eaten too much before setting off on his latest journey, and now he was really regretting that.

Eventually he fell asleep.

…

“Jack! Say something!”

He jolted awake. The water around him was pitch black. He’d had the strangest dream...someone was singing to him, and there was this bright green light, wonderful to look at…

“Jack!” Something touched the end of his fin, and his tail jolted instinctively. He made some kind of small sound, something between a squeak and a groan. A big portion of his tail was numb where the rubble was on it, and the parts that weren’t numb were aching.

“Oh, thank gods.” He recognized that voice. Jackie. “Jack, I’m going to get you out of here, do you hear me?”

“Y-yeah…” Jack groaned. “I hear you…” He felt something bump against his head. “Sam?”

“Sam came to get me,” Jackie said. “Gods, you are so lucky I was home. Now lemme just…” Silence for a moment. “Tell me if you...i-if this hurts or something.” The rubble shifted a bit, and Jack yelped. “Sorry, sorry!” Jackie immediately backed off. “I can...um…”

“N-no, just go ahead,” Jack insisted.

“I’m trying to not...I’m trying to be gentle—”

“Just do it!”

Jackie grunted, and the rubble suddenly lifted off Jack’s tail. He quickly pulled it up to his chest, just before Jackie dropped the rubble. “Well, at least it’s not, uh...on you, anymore.”

Jack hissed. “Y-yeah.” He laughed a bit. “Now you can just throw all the rocks away without worrying.”

“Yeah, uh. Good point.” The pile of rubble shifted as some of the lighter pieces were tossed away. The inside of the small cave remained completely black, so Jack could just wait and listen to the grating sounds of shifting rubble. “I don’t think there’s any way this can collapse further,” Jackie said. “What...what happened, anyway?”

“The volcano was rumbling,” Jack explained. “Shook at just the wrong moment, when I was inside. Entrance fell.” He paused. “It’s not still shaking, is it?”

“That mountain? Uhh no, I don’t think so. Better be quick anyway. Can you try pushing some of the rocks from your side? Start from the top.”

Through their combined efforts, they managed to clear a space large enough for Jack to wriggle out. He stared at the environment around him, taking in some of the glowing coral and the dark waters that indicated it was night time. Squinting, he could barely make out Jackie’s figure in the darkness, treading water before him.

“How you feel?” Jackie asked nervously.

Jack immediately swam forward and tackle-hugged Jackie.

“Whoa!” Despite the size difference between them, Jackie was knocked backwards with the force of the hug. “You good there, dude?”

“I’m fine, I just...gods, I got really fucking...I’m fine,” Jack laughed nervously. He could feel Sam swimming in circles around his head, the water moving as she passed. “Thanks.”

“Alright. Glad to hear you’re okay.” Jackie patted Jack’s back, careful to avoid his dorsal. “You...are okay, right? Like, you need to see Schneep or anything?”

“Um...I dunno. Maybe?” His tail did feel a little bit...weird.

“Well, better safe than sorry.” Jackie shrugged. “Man, seems like I’m saving a lot of people lately.”

Jack chuckled. “That’s your job. And you’re good at it.”

“Damn right,” Jackie grinned. “Now c’mon, let’s go.”