#who edited the words though

[marshbevvie]

y’all need context for this or nah? because i want to see what you think is happening

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[muffinlance]

Wait, what’s going on with Embers???? That fic has been on my read later list since 2021, what’s happened with it???

Brief overview, then I'm likely never touching this topic again, because this is not a Drama Blog:

Context: Embers is a super old AtLA fic that was written during the early fandom days, read widely at the time, and was the origin of the widely-used fanon name of "Wani" for Zuko's ship (kind of by default that it was one of the first popular fics to give his ship a name, I think?), even though most fic writers don't seem to realize it's from there anymore.

"What's Going On": I used to include a link in all my stories to it, because I believe in crediting other writers for borrowed elements, and I was using "Wani" in all my fics. But BOY did I not want to be sending readers that way anymore, so I've adopted a new name for Zuko's ship, and removed all Embers links.

None of the criticisms about Embers itself are new; I'm assuming they date back to when the fic was being written, because this isn't an "it aged badly" thing, this is an "actually yeah this gets worse the longer you think about it and I shouldn't have ignored my bad feelings just because some of the worldbuilding was interesting" thing.

An Incomplete List of Why I Made the Change:

I don't actually like the story that much anymore, and don't want to rec it

I tried to re-read it recently to see if some things were as bad as I remembered and it turns out they were So Much Worse Oh Yikes. More specifically, the treatment of Katara and Aang and their respective cultures has... rather a lot going on. One example: The Fire Nation and Air Nomads are both given multiple backstory elements in an attempt to make the average Fire Nation soldier's participation in the genocide/war in large part the fault of the Avatar and the Air Nomads themselves, and also fully justified from the Fire Nation perspective. And I do mean fully. One of its core tenants is "People from the Fire Nation (and only people from the Fire Nation) who don't follow orders Literally Die, therefore murdering pacifists and babies and continuing the war (and their regularly scheduled war crimes) is the only thing it is physically possible for them to do". I cannot emphasize enough how literal that is.

Also the name "Wani" means "Alligator" and is... objectively a pretty lame name for Zuko's ship? Where's the personality, where's the deeper meaning, where's the resonance with Zuko's themes? @tuktukpodfics initially thought I was calling the ship "Wanyi", and that's what I've switched to, because it is Objectively So Much Better. In their words: “Wànyī (萬一): Literally ‘one in ten thousand,’ ‘perchance.’ Used grammatically in Chinese to mean ‘what if’ or ‘just in case.’ I think a ship called ‘The Perchance’ is perfect for a boy clinging to false hope.”

TL:DR; I don't rec Embers anymore, because I don't actually like the story anymore, and there are things about it that get worse the more I think on them. I've removed links to it and renamed Zuko's ship to "Wanyi" ("The Perchance") because our boy deserves a ship name that reflects his character arc.

[nat-20s]

i know it's a little late, but everyone please enjoy this soft and sappy new year's fourteendonna fic!!! Also on ao3, if you prefer!

~~~~

As per New Year’s tradition, The Doctor and Donna were the only two members of the household that were awake past midnight. This year had been different than last, because at least this year Shaun had given a rather sleepy “woo!” and kiss to Donna at midnight, before promptly once again passing out on the couch. Sylvia and Rose had made no attempt to make it that late, the two of them staunchly morning people. Donna had to assume that that particular quality skipped a generation, as she had never once gotten out of bed before 10am of her own volition. Granddad had tried, bless his heart, but it was barely 9:30 before he gave a little wave and apology, heading to his room.

She would take it to her grave, but she sort of adored these quiet moments where it was just her and The Doctor. There was a sense of guilt about it, wanting to bogart his time for herself. However, this was both a: the only time that The Doctor would actually talk and b: something that Donna was about 78% sure he enjoyed just as much as her. It didn’t hurt that they were currently leaned up against the kitchen counter, pressed shoulder to shoulder, slowly nursing their sparkling apple cider. Donna would swear that she had a pleasant buzz in the back of her head going on, despite no one even bothering to buy champagne this year. Half of them couldn’t have it, and the other half didn’t actually want it. What a ridiculous, brilliant family she had.

Maybe it was the fact that it was one am, or that it was New Year’s, or just that she felt remarkably loose-limbed, but she simply had to break the silence. “So, spaceman, this is your second new year’s day with us. How’re you feelin about it?”

The Doctor turns to face her directly, pointing the gold sparkle 2025 glasses (that were physically incapable of looking anything other than deeply silly) he was wearing straight at her. There’s a moment, so brief she almost misses it, of contemplation, before it’s replaced by a too big goofy grin. “Oh, I’m just dandy.”

For that, she nudges him with her elbow. “Come off it, it’s only us. How do you actually feel about all...this?”

She waves in the general direction of the house, and makes the assumption that he gets she’s not talking about the furniture. His smile decreases to something more honest and his eyes, well, she hates to say that they twinkle, but they sort of do. “Good. Mostly. Yeah.”

Reasonably, she shouldn’t needle. Reasonably, she should leave it at that, enjoy finishing her cup of sugar that claims to have vitamins, and get them both to bed. Behaving reasonably wasn’t what made her and The Doctor best friends, though. Instead, she decides to change tactics. “When’s the last time we went stargazing?”

The Doctor’s expression morphs to the kind of concern that’s usually reserved for life-threatening situations. Or when she says she’s going grocery shopping without him. “Donna, we went out with Granddad last night? You’re not having memory-”

“-No, dummy, I mean proper stargazing. TARDIS, open sky, no atmosphere type of star gazing. ”

The crow’s feet around the corners of The Doctor’s eyes curl up, prominent enough that Donna can see them even with the obstruction of the glasses. If they weren’t in the middle of a conversation, she’d probably stroke them with her thumb. As it is, she simply listens as he lights up, saying, “Oh! Not since we had the run-in with the giant Artemisians.”

“God, that’s right. It was nice to have a breather, you know, after a giant shrimp tries to drown you.”

“I keep telling you that they didn’t understand the concept of not having gills, there truly was no ill will there.”

“And I keep telling you, a lack of ill will is worth sod all when a giant shrimp is trying to drown you. Unconventional methods of saying ‘hello’ are significantly less friendly when they almost kill you.”

The Doctor has the gall to roll his eyes at her, and she wet willies him. “Ey!,” is all he gets out before she sets down her drink down behind her, grabs a thermos, and sets out for the backyard. The Doctor scrambles behind her, even willing to take off his little party hat and absurd glasses before he goes.

Perhaps more confident than she should be, considering the TARDIS’s temperamental nature, she struts in, fills the thermos from the hot cocoa tap that appeared one day, and starts inputting coordinates. The Doctor quickly catches up, putting his head on her shoulder to watch what she’s doing. “Shouldn’t I take over from here?”

“Nah, she likes me better anyway.”

A gasp of hurt comes out of The Doctor. “She does not!”

“Really? Because the TARDIS has always taken me where I want to go. If that’s not a sign that I’m her favorite, I don’t know what is. Isn’t that right, ol’ gal?”

The lights of the TARDIS walls flash brighter, and Donna can feel a slight hum in the base of her skull. She can see The Doctor pouting in her peripheral vision, but nevertheless he hugs his arms around her waist and says, “’Spose it’s only fair, considering you’re my favorite too.”

Donna wrinkles her nose at that, but can’t quite hide her smile as she fiddles with a few knobs. “Sap.”

“Only for you.”

“Okay, first off, that’s not even true, second, double sap! At this rate you’re going to become a whole damn tree.”

The Doctor only responds with a little “mmm,” and snuggling even closer. All of which is very sweet, but reaching for the last lever she needs is a bit difficult with a 6 foot alien doing his best octopus impression. If this had been their first go around, she would’ve shoved him off. In this incarnation of, well, whatever they are, she simply does her best stretch while having a hyper-intelligent limpet attached to her.

Donna expects the typical moan and groan of the TARDIS, but apparently “Up” is a fairly simple task for her to complete. It’s mere seconds before they’re between the moon and Earth, and Donna’s ready to step out. She half walks, half drags The Doctor all the way to the TARDIS doors before he lets go. There’s a slight shiver that goes through her at the sudden lack of warmth, but the contents of the thermos will quickly amend that.

Pushing the doors to the side, she reveals exactly the view she had hoped they would get; the Earth at night, lit up in the intricate networks of humanity, and stars surrounding them. As The Doctor comes to stand next to her and look, she fondly thinks of their first night together having shared this exact same view a few billion years removed.

Quickly, she sits down, and pours herself some cocoa. She hesitates for a moment, thinking about how she’ll have to piss like a racehorse if she drinks too much, and then immediately decides she doesn’t actually care.

The Doctor immediately follows suit, and they simply watch the world for a few minutes, passing a cheap plastic cup between the two of them. After the cocoa needs refilling, she takes in The Doctor’s full body contentment, and almost, almost doesn’t interrupt it. Nevertheless, she asks, “Mostly?”

“Hmm?”

“You said things were good, mostly. What’s the not good?”

The Doctor turns to stare at her for a moment, then teasingly says, “The stargazing is a trap, isn’t it?”

Donna scoffs. “Of course not! The stargazing is because it’s a great view. The hot cocoa, on the other hand.”

The Doctor gives a bit of a laugh, then sets aside the empty cup in his left hand. He uses his right hand to take hers, then goes back to staring at the universe surrounding them. “It really is good, Donna. I didn’t lie to you when I said I’ve never been so happy, and that hasn’t changed. If anything, it becomes even more true with each passing day. I just,” The Doctor lets out a breath of a sigh, “I’m a bit worried is all. Not...not about anything major. Logically, I know that other me is doing his best for the universe, and who better to hand the keys off to? But. Well. I fear I’m losing myself. And worse, I fear that I don’t know if that’s a bad thing.”

Donna gives The Doctor’s hand a quick squeeze, a reassurance as she asks, “How do you mean?”

The Doctor give his her full force attention then, somewhat to her surprise. She had expected him to look anywhere but her. Instead, his pupils are darting back and forth, scanning her as if her face holds the answer to her own question. “Donna, I don’t feel like a time lord anymore.”

He turns away again then, taking a slow, deep breath before continuing, “I know that I am one. I know, fundamentally, that I am not a member of the human race, and that being a time lord isn’t about fulfilling a role, it’s more a state of existence. But it feels like a role, and one that I’ve quit. Retired from. Passed on to the next generation.

Even without whatever Tecteun did to me, the centuries, the lives I lived before I found you again, they seem distant. Like everything happened to someone else. Only the past year and half feel…”

The Doctor trailed off, and Donna found it shockingly easy to finish his thought. “-real?”

“Yeah.”

Donna places her head on the door frame, the forever night sky twinkling in front of her, and tells him, “I think I know what you’re getting at. It’s as if, I dunno, for fifteen years there was a woman named Donna Noble who got married and raised a child and bought a house and scrapped together a decent life for herself. She was strong, but she was also so sad, missing someone who didn’t exist. I’m grateful to that incredible, heart-broken person. She did a lot of things right, and some things wrong, and she dug up the space for the roots I’ve now placed down. But she doesn’t feel like me. It’s..it’s as if I suddenly woke up, when I got my memories back. I know it’s not true, I know that those actions, those memories are all mine, that I was never truly asleep. I don’t know her mind, though. I don’t thinkin the same way she does, I don’t act like her, I don’t even entirely sound like her. Maybe that’s how it feels for you, too?”

Donna thought she was sharing in a mutual understanding, but when she looked at The Doctor, he was devastated. “Donna, I am so sorry-”

“-Leave off! We’ve hashed that out a good ten times already, and that is not what this conversation is about.”

Everything about The Doctor was tense, but she watched him slowly force the stiffness from his body. “Yes, yes, I know. I am, but. I think that’s...pretty much exactly how I feel. Funny how that works. Same wavelength, for the two of us.”

“Sure, though, me feeling like a different person than the one in my memories isn’t quite as literal for me.”

The Doctor gives a “what can you do?” shrug, and goes quiet. There’s an..expectation in the air, at least she thinks there is, that if this conversation is to resolve, she has to be the one to do it. “The psychic paper says ‘John Noble’ by the way.”

“Huh?”

“When you flash your near universal fake badge. It used to list your name as ‘John Smith’, dumb fake name by the way, but now it says ‘John Noble.’”

He immediately looks down, poorly attempting to hide his face and his honest-to-god blush, and ohhh Donna wants to tease him about it so very badly. “Well, I, that’s as such. The psychic paper responds to the minds around it, so, that’s just. Yep.”

She grins, mostly sincerely, and shifts to lean on him. “I like it. Suits you. And, in light of it all, would it be so bad? You don’t have to, obviously, but. What if you didn’t have to be capital ‘T’ capital ‘D’ The Doctor, last of the time lords, the oncoming storm, whatever? Would you like to just be him, John Noble, regular bloke?”

“Regular? Eugh, makes me sound like a digestive system.”

He gets an elbow for that, and she amends, “Fine. Human then. Wanna join us down there on big blue ball in front of us?”

“It’d be wrong. Wouldn’t it? Yes. Right?”

It’s her turn to shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m admittedly biased, but I think being human is rather nice, actually.”

“In that case. I think I’ve already joined you, haven’t I?”

“I think you have, Dr. Noble.”

“Oh, that does have a ring to it!”

Donna removes her hand from The Doctor’s so that she can hug his arm and watch the world continue. In a bit, she’ll have to get up, input the coordinates back home, and get some sleep. For now, though, she simply whispers, “Happy New Year, Doctor.”

“Happy New Year, Donna.”

[formalmess]

i rly want halloween to come sooner so ive been thinking abt spooky stuff these last few days and i thought: i might as well post my vampire and vampire hunter au... lord luigi (turned by antasma) and vampire “hunter” peasley

[affluent-havoc]

It's time for the fiend! Spoilers of course

For one, Syo here actually breaks the formula I have with these designs, Syo not really working or going out most of the time unless she's heavily disguised. However, I tried my best to ensure she was given some love! So, for her "casual" attire, it's rather simple looking. It's got some LORE though with Syo trying to reform from her murdering days and Komaru helping out in making this outfit! Most of the materials are just thrifted such as the boots with the rest being slightly modified. It holds up rather poorly and has it's flaws. However, Syo seems to like it. Toko, not so much. Toko finds it ugly, no matter how much Komaru tries to give her the puppy eyes, asking for Toko to give it a chance. I also want to take note the bracelet she has on as well as the hat. I thought it would also be cute if Komaru made her a little friendship bracelet. Toko also has one but she finds it childish to just be wearing it out an about (she's not really into much jewelry anyway). Thus, Toko just keeps it on her nightstand. Syo, however, fears nothing and has no shame. Speaking of which, the hat. I was a little lazy with the details but it is indeed one of those "Woman love me, Fish fear me" hats. Syo did the embroidery on it (Syo being oddly good with crochet and sewing) and Toko despises. And, the worst part is that Syo did an amazing job on it which makes Toko hate it even more whenever she ends up in it after Syo finishes fronting. Toko's at least a bit grateful though that Syo doesn't go out that much. Toko is already mortified waking up in the outfit. It'd be way worse to be waking up in one of the ugliest garments present in the apartment while in public. As for Syo's "work" attire, it's just Toko's attire for work with slight Syoifications (Jackifications?) made with the zipper being undone revealing a little pouch she has on, and sleaves rolled up. She even has Toko's purse worn slightly different as well! Thought it would be cute to do! Also, for the pouch, Her iconic scissors are absent, being held deep in a vault somewhere with Byakuya as a safety precaution. Syo doesn't mind too much though. For one, she knows they're safe even though she likes to joke that Byakuya's doing unspeakable things with them which he just sighs at. Additionally she's not planning on murdering anyone anymore as I feel she holds pride in her killing SPECIFICALLY with those scissors. So, she wouldn't be using any random pair. But also, her being reformed and all. Besides, the scissors being held in the care of Byakuya it's not because of the potential of Syo starting all over again with the murders anyway. It's more about the potential of the whole "Toko is Genocider Syo and is a serial killer" thing coming out and as a way of showing that Byakuya does care for Toko, aloofness or not. I like to headcanon that, though footage of the Killing game were indeed broadcasted, for one, the Future Foundation were the main people to see it. Additionally, the average civilian would probably not a bit too busy trying to save their own lives than to be keeping up with the news regarding the Ultimate's in Hopes Peak. Not saying that some of that info wouldn't be able to get out. Some of it certainly could have and added to the despair and all. As to regards on where the footage is held, it's with Future Foundation in partner with Byakuya. Perhaps a bit of Kyoko their too and a bit of Makoto as well though I feel all the survivors pitched in on having the say on what to do with it. After all, it IS the recording of all their Hopes Peak trauma, though I don't think they'd want to destroy it oddly enough. This concept of course has room to change but these are the main thoughts Plus, it's fun to think about as, with Syo in the picture in this AU, the concept of whether the people know or don't know about the whole "notorious serial killer Genocider Syo is sorta just an alter of Toko Fukawa" is something that has to be addressed to SOME extent .

For her physical build, it's just Toko's. What really changes is the undergarments anyway. Though they are not colored her, they are very much bright red, very garish. All of her undergarments are which contrasts with Toko's more frilly and pretty undergarments. One other bit to mention is Syo's hair! It's nothing too crazy, just Toko's hair out of the pony tail and ruffled to high hell! Syo makes it work though.

That's Syo done! Hope I did her justice! Tried my best ;-; (1) | (6)

[fudgecake-charlie]

[chiarrara]

who up happying they new year rn

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2025: ADRIFT IN CURRENTS CLEAN AND CLEAR by Seanan McGuire.

Ah, yes, my favorite January tradition: heartbreak in tiny series installment form :)

This one is about a turtle-obsessed disabled Russian girl who gets adopted by an American family and fitted for a prosthetic she doesn't ask for, want, or need, and then she splashes through her Door.

I love Russian language and culture things (shout out to accidentally double minoring in college), so I was excited for a Russian protag and a Russian-coded Door world! Excellent enrichment in my enclosure. Neat cultural expansion on the Wayward Children universe (multiverse? cosmos?? insert appropriately scaled setting word here).

I also liked the aquatic nature of Belyyreka--terrifying giant frogs and delightful giant turtles and delightful talking foxes on the riverbanks were all lovely, and the worldbuilding about different weights of water was neat! Very mind-bendy kind of setting, I dig it.

This installment felt very slim (146 pages in my copy), and Our World Heavy--the first 46 pages were in Colorado, and the last 100 were in Belyyreka, but it felt like we did More Frequent and Larger Time Skips in Belyyreka compared to Earth? Kind of speedrun mode, sans Quests, really (this one was a lot more oriented toward Finding/Building Your Family, which was signposted pretty clearly upon our arrival in Belyyreka). Mostly a quieter installment up until the, y'know, Typical Impending Tragedy of Return at the end. (Did I almost put it down at 1AM last night with 30 pages left so everyone could Be Happy? perHAPS,)

Overall: I had a good time! But, ow, my heart (once again and forever).

[1990mx5]

The thirsting over Logan Sargeant has me in a chokehold.

This man is literally your typical garden-variety frat boy, and it tickles me to no end that my European F1 besties are throwing heart eyes at him.

You are not immune to the US fratboy propaganda

[iam-anordinary-human-orami]

Give me Nicky creating a video full of blurry photos and awkward 2000s transitions for Neil's bday (not the actual one, the 31st of March one) with the "Bitch" song by meredith Brooks.

Lyrics come up, "I'm a bitch" and it's a still of Neil roasting on press duty

"Im a lover" Neil stealing a glance at Andrew, a small smile on his face

"Im a child" photo taken from high angle of Neil looking up at the camera, indignation all over his face, a granola bar in his mouth

"Im a mother" Neil pointing at Kevin chewing him out while Kev is saying sth arms crossed on his chest (or better yet, Kevin and Jean walking to opposite directions but there's a leash around their chest that Neil is holding)

"Im a sinner" shot of Neil eating pinneaple on Pizza and Matt and Dan looking horrified and disgusted on the background

"Im a saint" meme of the cat with the dozen knifes at its throat but on the face of the cat is a poorly cropped picture of Neil raising his eyebrow

[tamaruaart]

I love Paris. "But he abandoned Oenone-" I do not care

[tls123]

not shen yuan disassociating as he starts backing luo binghe to the edge of endless abyss

[chibishortdeath]

I’ve been trying to use vocaloid recently since I obtained a Big Al, but aaaaa it is so so hard finding any kind of tutorials or help for V2 and when you do it’s for like specific problems you don’t have or extremely simple beginner things like “here’s how to type in lyrics” (TwT ). Big Al is really fun so far, but man it’d be nice if anyone online had answers for anything.

[waywardsalt]

rough rough draft of chapter 1 of the bellum x linebeck fic

Though the storm had passed and the sun finally shown upon the sea again, Linebeck felt gloomy. He leaned against his ship’s rope railings and stared at the horizon. The night before, the pounding of the rain had put him at ease. Now, the bright afternoon had brought back that familiar anxiety. After some thinking, Linebeck pushed himself away from the railing and resolved to begin his morning chores.

                As the only person on his ship, it was up to Linebeck to take care of it- and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He knew his beloved steamship like the back of his hand, and he collected a bucket as he blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes. Firstly, he gathered seawater to dump into the engine’s storage tank. The ship was drifting at the moment, but once Linebeck would turn it on, the heat would build up in the engine and the water would boil and evaporate and build up steam to get the wheels moving.

Linebeck knelt at the lowest edge of the deck and dunked the bucket into the water for the ninth- tenth? - time. He’d have to do some extra engine maintenance before he got moving. He’d been traveling during the entire storm, likely pushing the engine to its limits. But after the water gathering, Linebeck checked the hull for barnacles and scratches, checked the railings for damaged rope, checked his food and water supplies, barely giving himself a moment of rest while he went through the familiar motions.

Since he began sailing, Linebeck’s life had been altogether monotonous and unpredictable. His ship was one he had designed himself, and knew better than anyone else how to take care of and operate it. He had no desire to take on a crew, and knew from experience that they’d only hold him back- trying to teach new people how to work his ship was incredibly tedious and often led to them making mistakes and doing more harm than good. The last bastard he’d temporarily hired and bothered to teach about his ship- Linebeck scowled and shook his head. Not even worth thinking about, now.

The storm had replenished his fresh water supply. It had been bad enough to obscure visibility across the sea, so Linebeck had done some fishing. If he cared for gods, he would have thanked one that he made it through without getting sick.

He didn’t need a crew. Linebeck hadn’t had a long-term crew member for what- seven years now? They just made him feel uneasy and he could never muster up the patience to put up with them.

Or maybe he kept finding the wrong people. That had certainly happened before. He was never particularly good with other people. Linebeck was almost certain that he’d made a good few new enemies just in the last month. His eyes scanned the horizon as he walked back out onto the deck. Linebeck tightened his grip on his mop’s handle. He was totally alone. And yet his skin prickled with unease.

“…No point worrying,” he mumbled to himself. He started mopping the deck, forcing himself to keep his eyes trained on the wood. His last chore of the morning was always the most soothing. He moved slowly and rhythmically, beginning at the prow and slowly making his way back to the cabin. His ship was small, though large enough to be comfortable for him. The deck sloped upwards a few feet from the cabin and plateaued, about a foot higher and better to accommodate the rooms and machinery beneath.

The air was warm and humid; Linebeck brushed his hair out of his face and behind his shoulders. He considered removing his coat, but he was nearly done mopping- no point in wasting the time. The heat was never a big issue for him. He was perfectly suited to the sea, and Linebeck felt more than confidant handling every aspect of this life on his own. No problems whatsoever. No good reason for the anxiety that refused to leave his mind.

Maybe there was a good reason, the same reason why he kept scanning the horizon.

Finished mopping the deck, Linebeck turned to admire it. The storm had cleaned it well enough, but now that the sky was clear he wasn’t just going to cut out part of his morning routine.

With everything done for the morning, Linebeck gathered up his mop and the bucket and moved to put them away. The bucket would be dumped out and left with other containers in the storage room, the mop left in the engine room… and then the engine would need to be started up. The nearest inhabited island was two days away (with good conditions), so while Linebeck had no need to get going right that moment, he felt safer with the engine running.

To get the engine started, Linebeck pulled a lever by the wheel up and waited a moment as he heard the hissing of steam start, and then stop. He knelt down in front of the storage tank. Enough water for the day, that was for sure. He withdrew his matchbox from a pocket in his coat and struck a match, humming idly to himself as he tossed it in the space below the water. It would only be a few minutes before the ship could get going; over the years, Linebeck had gone back and forth on the design of the engine, and managed to make it especially efficient with different materials and methods, and was quite proud of it. While the water heated up, he shut the tank door and sat back, resting a moment.

He’d gotten… some sleep last night. He’d dreamed briefly, and didn’t feel as terrible as he usually did. Some sleep. Better than no sleep at all. Linebeck laid down on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. He stared at the winding pipes at the tops of the walls and then shut his eyes. If he was lucky, he could perhaps find a few minutes to nap. Just a few minutes…

The ticking of the machinery around him slowly faded in as the engine properly started up. The sound melted into with the noise of the ocean outside, and Linebeck felt his anxieties ease. The familiarity of his daily routine eased his mind like nothing else.

The next island was north of his position… Linebeck let out a long breath. He’d have to at least position his ship facing north, and get started within the hour. He sat up and stretched. If he got started now, he could reach the island by late tomorrow. The engine was ready to go, and Linebeck smiled to himself as he fiddled with some of the smaller levers and switches, listening to the subtle changes in the ticking and clicking around him.

He paused when he heard up an unfamiliar noise. Linebeck stilled his hands, suddenly feeling cold.

Without thinking, Linebeck kicked the engine into proper operation and after a moment, the wheels on either side of the ship started turning and he quickly steered the ship in the opposite direction of that odd sound. He heard it again, from outside his ship- the unmistakable sound of cannon fire, and Linebeck was not brave enough to stop and check to see if it was aimed at him.

It was usually aimed at him, anyways.

Linebeck steered his ship away and locked the wheel in place; he felt his heart pounding in his chest as more muffled canon fire reached his ears. One sounded closer than the rest, and he managed to tear himself away from the wheel and run up to deck. Running away was nice, but he needed to know where to run away to.

It seemed like he was getting chased more and more. Linebeck figured he ought to start a list of the crews that had it out for him; that was something to do once he was safe. He stumbled out onto the deck and leaned over the rope railing, staring at the southern horizon. Sure enough, he could see a pirate ship in the distance heading his way, and the wind was in their favor.

Linebeck gripped the railings until the rope started to dig into his skin. The hell did he do to them? He recognized the decorated sails as the sails of the ship that’d been pursuing him before the storm. Their captain was one he’d cheated out of several hundred rupees in poker- or was that a different crew? No time to think it over while they got closer and closer. More cannon fire rang out, and Linebeck jumped back as the cannonball splashed into the water dangerously close to his ship.

Sailing in a straight line was a terrible idea. Better to leverage his steamship’s advantages and focus on disrupting their aim. Linebeck wildly looked around. No rocks or islands in sight. His best hope was to run for it and hope that either they’d run out of cannonballs or the wind would die down. He raced back inside.

He was just one man; why did all of these pirates decide that being slighted by him once marked him as the biggest threat to them on the entire Great Sea? Pirates were so petty. He flinched when he heard a muffled splash and felt the ship rock. Linebeck gripped the wheel tightly and started turning the ship west, his sweaty hands almost slipping off. He gritted his teeth as the cannon fire sounded closer and the ship rocked again.

The last time he’d been pursued like this, a cannonball had burnt his hull and cost him several days of sleep. Linebeck turned the ship far enough around to spy the pursuing pirates again; the moment he heard the cannon fire again, he spun the wheel to sail in the opposite direction. Turning was slow, but his ship never stopped moving. He’d had nightmares about one of the wheels being damage, and Linebeck felt weak in the knees just thinking about it.

As the pirate ship slipped out of view, the waters around his ship were more violently disrupted, and Linebeck yelped as his ship was more violently rocked by the waves. There was no cannon fire, no sound of a cannonball hitting the waves- and the water was clearly churning too violently for it to have been a cannonball. He clung to the steering wheel for dear life, his knees nearly buckling underneath him, and the cacophonous sound of an especially large wave made him wince. The ship rocked again, but still no cannon fire. Instead, Linebeck picked up a new muffled noise.

…Splintering wood?

The wood of his own ship was fine, there was no motion asides from the violent waves rocking his ship, but the distant splintering continued, and with it, faraway screams. For the second time in barely five minutes, Linebeck’s curiosity prevailed over his fear. On shaky legs he stumbled up onto his deck- slick with water that had poured onboard, and nearly fell over the railings when he reached them.

The pursuing pirate ship was being torn apart by something. Something had pulled the main mast down and split it in half, tearing through the sails and ripping the vessel in half. Linebeck squinted, hardly seeing anything that could be causing it, then caught a glimpse of what looked like a thick black rope curled around the prow, tearing it clean off and dragging it into the sea. The way those ‘ropes’ moved; Linebeck slowly slid down into a crouch as he realized that a sea monster was what was attacking that ship.

One pirate jumped from where the prow had been, likely trying to escape and swim away, but a black tentacle shot out of the water and grabbed them midair and yanked them below the water. Linebeck felt frozen to the spot, more than grateful that he wasn’t the creature’s target, but he feared that if he took advantage of the chaos and sailed away, he would be attacked next.

The pursuing ship began to sink, and the sharp cracking of wood was piercing as it reached Linebeck’s ears. The hull was torn in two, more tentacles appearing to crush them into unsalvageable wreckages. The fear that shot through Linebeck urged him to straighten back up. He started to hurry back into the engine room, but stopped in his tracks as the tentacles withdrew back into the water.

The pirate ship’s remains slowly sank, survivors clinging to any floating pieces. Linebeck stared at the water around his ship. That… thing had stopped. That sea monster that he and those pirates had the misfortune to disturb.

That sea monster- Linebeck had researched every possible hostile creature that had been seen on the Great Sea, and that certainly had to have been one of them. He grabbed onto his railing again, feeling too sick to move his gaze from the sinking ship down to the waters just below him. He stood at the end of the railing, steady on the sloping deck despite the way his limbs shook and his heart hammered in his chest.

There was a sea monster in these waters. It had just wiped out an entire pirate crew in hardly a minute. From what Linebeck could recall, that pirate crew was rather prepared and experienced, and their ship certainly wasn’t some glorified piece of driftwood. This wasn’t just an overgrown gyorg or some other typical sea monster- he was at the mercy of the kind of sea monster that had stories passed around. The kinds that endured for decades or even centuries and were either worshipped or feared. He’d never seen a regular sea monster that had those kinds of tentacles and was that quick and deadly.

One of the stranded pirates was suddenly and violently pulled under water. Linebeck lowered himself back down to a crouch, staring at the now-empty patch of water. After a few moments, a faint red hue bloomed from deep under the surface.

I’m going to die.

The thought seemed to echo in Linebeck’s head. It wasn’t a thought he was unfamiliar with, but it was much, much more frantic now than ever. He was going to drown or be eaten. Even if he got out unscathed, his ship likely wouldn’t, and that sounded just as bad as if he got injured. Linebeck shakily stared down at the water mere feet from him. Every tiny wave and ripple in the water heightened his anxiety, and his mind raced. Another pirate was pulled under the water, eaten, and the waters were still for a moment. Then, there was a subtle ripple further away from the wreckage and closer to Linebeck’s ship.

How do I get out of this?

Linebeck’s terror forced him to his feet, and he raced into his ship’s cabin. That monster was more than capable of catching up with that pirate ship, and Linebeck stumbled on his way down the stairs as his ship rocked slightly.

This monster was capable of killing and catching him with ease, and it tore apart that pirate ship with ease, and it was eating the survivors, and Linebeck was up next if he didn’t think fast. His feet brought him into his ship’s cramped kitchen, and he stood still in the doorway for a moment. His fear and quick-thinking seemed to crash into each other, and his mind went blank as he stared around. Linebeck switched his attention from his utensils to the fish he’d recently caught and had yet to clean to the cupboards. Why the hell had he run here?

The sea monster killed all of the pirates. It was probably chasing after him now. It tore apart the ship, and… ate the pirates. Ate the pirates. Linebeck stared at his recently-caught fish. There were a pair of smaller amberjacks he’d picked up during the storm, a seabass he had a few different plans for, and then a large loovar he’d been planning to sell. He suddenly felt itchy looking at that loovar. He was going to sell it. It was a large, pristine loovar, with sleek, undamaged scales and was over five feet long and took up the entire counter that fit in the narrow kitchen. It was valuable and would net him a good sum of rupees at the next island he docked at.

Linebeck’s ship rocked again, violently enough to knock him off balance. The terror finally mixed with his quick thinking and he grabbed and yanked the loovar off the counter, stumbling a moment under its weight. He slung it over his shoulder and hauled it up the stairs, his shoulder aching before he was even in the engine room. Goddesses, his coat was going to reek if he made it out of this alive.

He paused to grab his mop and tuck it into the crook of his elbow and stumbled a bit, stubbornly keeping the fish from touching the floor. The ship rocked under his feet again, and Linebeck shuddered and hurried out onto the deck. The water around his ship’s hull ripped every few moments, and Linebeck didn’t hesitate in letting the loovar drop onto the wood. He kicked it off the deck, and it fell unceremoniously into the water and floated barely a few inches from the hull- too close.

With the mop he prodded at it and sent it floating slowly away from his ship. And so, Linebeck huddled at the edge of his deck, leaning against his mop for support. For just a moment, the waters were still. The loovar bobbed on the water’s surface and the sunlight glinted off its scales. Linebeck exhaled slowly. For all he knew, the monster could have already left. He could probably grab the loovar if he was careful.

Linebeck started to reach back out with the mop, but drew it back as the water around the loovar suddenly started to ripple. The rippling grew more furious, and the water began to bubble and small waves started rushing out from around the fish- a dark shape was just barely visible deep in the water. The shape rushed to the surface, and Linebeck only got the quickest glimpse before falling backwards onto the deck as the largest waves yet set his ship violently rocking.

It was huge, easily half the size of his ship, and a stunning yellow. For the split second he saw it, Linebeck couldn’t discern any detail, but he didn’t miss the mouth full of sharp teeth that engulfed the loovar. Linebeck had fallen onto his back and didn’t dare move as the sea calmed down, the blurry image of the beast burnt into his mind. He stared up at the sky and realized that the fear in his chest had eased. Had he appeased the creature? The rocking of his ship slowly stopped, and he felt he was in no hurry to get up.

There was a slight splashing, and Linebeck jolted upright. He stared off the edge of the deck, at where the loovar had been floating. It stared back at him. The sunlight glinted off its yellow body, greenish in some spots, and golden in others. Under the water, the rest of it was just a murky shadow. In its mouth, encircled by those teeth, was an eye that stared back at him, the tiny pupil within a burning yellow and orange, surrounded by deep black. A monstrous eye, and one that Linebeck could’ve sworn he’d seen somewhere. Something about the thing’s unblinking gaze made a sense of visceral horror return to Linebeck, and before he could think it through, he scrambled to his feet.

The creature didn’t move in the water, but its eye followed his movements. Despite the hammering of his heart, Linebeck couldn’t tear his gaze away from that eye. His limbs felt locked in place, and his breathing came in in ragged gasps and he realized just how bad his situation had gotten. There was no way that loovar was enough to save him. He’d seen the way the creature had torn apart that pirate ship. He’d seen the way it had grabbed and killed those pirates. There was nothing keeping it from killing him next.

Then, without any sound but the sounds of the water, the creature sank down into the ocean and out of sight.

Linebeck immediately hurried back into his cabin, just barely remembering to snatch up his mop.

He wasted no time in getting his ship up and running again, and set a course for the island before even thinking of relaxing. Linebeck anxiously surveyed the sea as he steered the ship away, but spotted nothing out of the ordinary.

…Maybe the loovar had satisfied that… thing. Linebeck tried not to think much about it. But his nerves were still shot by the encounter, and he stiffly steered until the sun began to set.

He didn’t anchor the ship until stars glittered in the sky. Linebeck moved gingerly around his ship, half expecting that monster to return. But the evening was quiet, and Linebeck eventually felt relaxed enough after doing his rounds. He collected every book he had that mentioned sea monsters and went out on deck to read and rest.

Linebeck rested against the prow. He set the books in his lap and started flipping through each one, quickly skipping through what turned out to be a catalogue of common seafaring enemies, and finding a short collection of short stories based on powerful creatures around the world. As the sun dipped further below the horizon, Linebeck finally reached a much more informative book- one that had been gathering dust at the edge of the shelf- and flipped through more slowly, inspecting each illustration. Dragons, sentient plants, fish creatures, and Linebeck slowed down upon reaching the chapter reserved for deities. It didn’t take long for him to turn a page and find a familiar illustration.

It was little more than a collection of sketches, but that eye was unmistakable. Linebeck leaned over the book with a small spark of triumph in his heart. He was right- it was one he’d heard of before, a creature named ‘Bellum’. Apparently a powerful, demonic sea monster.

Linebeck felt a faint shiver down his spine and he sat up and stared off across the sea. He shut the book and gathered up the rest. Back in the cabin, he locked the door out, and hesitated with his hand on the knob. That nearby island was his destination, a small island with a small town that he’d been for. He needed supplies, needed to restock on food and parts and whatever else eluded him at the moment.

He double-checked the lock and silently headed down into the storage room. Linebeck left the volume with the information on Bellum on the table, and put the rest back on the bookshelf behind the thin bar that kept them from falling out.

Bellum.

Linebeck turned and stared at the book on the table. In the dim light of the few lit lanterns in the room, the book seemed almost ominous with its dark cover and elaborate spine. Where had he picked this one up? Was it one from home, or something he’d bought on a whim a while ago? Either way, it was worth reading through and taking notes on- even if the information he wanted seemed to only take up two pages.

Linebeck idly rubbed his hands together. The only indication of his lingering anxiety was the thin layer of sweat on his palms. Most sea monsters were known through shared stories and rumored sightings. Once he got all he could from the book, he could start asking around at islands. With any luck, though, he wouldn’t have to see that thing again.

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

"my education is my highest priority" everything returns to vocaloid