#(even though that wouldn’t make much sense considering they build ships not sail them but whatevs)

[quibbs126]

So by this point I’m pretty sure the Glass Marine Cookie from the leaks back in July was just a mistranslation of Aquamarine Cookie (considering the others leaked were Mystic Opal and Gold Citrine, and they with Aquamarine are new Guest Cookies, and there’s no mention of Aquamarine outside of that), but I still kind of want that Glass Marine Cookie, at least how I envisioned them

I might make this into its own oc at a later point, since it’s pretty different from what we got, but my idea was that Glass Marine (or some other wording of that, like Marine Glass or Sea Glass) was some sort of shipwright, with perhaps one of their well known attributes being the sturdy glass they put on ships. I mostly had this idea since from what I could gather, marine glass is the glass used for boats, and also because we didn’t know what the story was going to be about until the reveal trailer other than more Black Pearl and mermaids, and with Peppermint, I (along with I’m sure plenty of other people) thought it’d take place in present day, possibly with more Captain Caviar

I don’t know why I’m writing about this, I guess just to say I’m thinking about making a Glass Marine/Marine Glass Cookie at some point

[talenlee]

Piton, Jura, Carpathia, Northumbria

You hear the term, in most any discussion of the nations of Cobrin’Seil. You’ll hear the phrase The Halfling Trade-Ships, or sometimes, Halfling Hulks. They’re a feature of the world and its politics, something so important that cities care about them, even though they aren’t, officially, part of that country at all.

The experience of the Hulks is pretty standard. Depending on which port you are in, wherever you are in the world, every few weeks or so, or perhaps once every few months, a single vessel cruises into the port, parks in the harbour in a space set aside for them, and spends a week completely unloading, then reloading up. These giant boxy vessels are often described as a totally different kind of ship to other vessels on the sea. They’re larger than even the largest naval ships, and they command small armies of people to manage and maintain, and all that money, all that profit they make just moving things from port to port, just sits in what, great and dreadful vaults, owned by ‘The Halfling Trade Houses.’

It’s more complicated than that.

Of course.

The first, the boats. A Halfling Hulk is an enormous building of a boat, between one hundred and two hundred meters long, thirty to fifty meters broad, and kind of square at one end, with minimal prow at the front to maximise the storage area within the Hulk’s frame. They are also extremely ‘tall’ – they’re designed to sit in the water, and fully loaded, they can draft some ten meters down. Fully unloaded, they can sit much shallower in the water, meaning that an empty Hulk can often look as much as five meters taller when it’s empty.

In the real world, the largest wooden boat ever to successfully take to sea was the Wyoming, a vessel 140 meters long that sank at sea because, amongst other things, its wooden make made it flex and distort in rough weather, resulting in it taking on water. The wood of the Hulks is magically treated to give it some resistance comparable to a modern day freighter.

They’re not technically Hulks. A Hulk is a vessel that can float, but isn’t seaworthy. The Halfling traders that eventually turned to the Halfling Trading Houses did start with hulks, but the name stuck because what else are you going to call a boat so big it needs harbours to be redesigned for them? They’re immense!

They’re also not sail boats, in the technical sense. They don’t have masts on them, because masts would occupy space on the deck and that would be space that could be used for storing goods for moving. Storing goods on a ship is a logistical mess, because the load is carefully and intricately packed and subdivided to ensure that the overall mass of the boat is equally distributed. They want it to sit flat in the water, and with enough mass being transported, they can find ways to do it. The plan for loading goods to flatten out is one of the most complicated pieces of math that the Hulks’ loading crews ever do and if they mess up, they can result in stress fractures that can, hypothetically, break or destroy a Hulk. Huge deal. Don’t mess up.

Instead of sails, then, they’re driven by enormous kites – a huge magically reinforced sail of fabric that’s launched off the front of the boat, propelled by magical assistance to get into place when the wind isn’t favourable. These kites are phenomenally complicated and reinforced in all sorts of ways to make the hulk move, which means that they move very slowly but also relentlessly.

Historical Note: This might also be enough of a reason that a modern day mariner wouldn’t consider a Hulk a proper ship, because it lacks an engine, and is instead a type of sailboat

Hulks are so big that, docked in most ports that can’t service one directly, they have tender ships, that are designed to sail out to the Hulks in harbour and unload something off them. And if you want something off the Hulk, you better be able to get it out of it properly, because it’s not like a bookshelf, you can’t grab something off the bottom shelf and everything else is fine.

That leads to the task of who manages the Hulks:

It’s an old idea that a Halfling Hulk is crawling with Halflings, just thousands of them, and when they arrive in town they’ll empty out the Hulk, buy up everything you got, then flee. That’s untidy. Plus, Halflings aren’t fools: they know that smaller heritages (what the company officially calls Midfolk) are great for piloting and steering the vessel, but loading and unloading? Nope, bigger people with broader backs can do that job better.

Any given Hulk can have a crew as small as twelve people, and if the right skills are employed (like mages and druids) that crew can drop to four. The idea of these absolute buildings being crewed by so small a number is bad for business, of course, so they often have crews in the thirty to fifty even when they don’t need it. Having crew keeps the crew from going weird over time left to their own devices.

The actual majority of what the Halfling Trade Houses own isn’t the Hulks, or even the service boats. The thing they own the most of is real estate, because in almost every Hulk-servicing town, there’s a small army of dockworkers whose job is, when the Hulk arrives, to empty that Hulk into a warehouse, and then empty another warehouse into that Hulk. They have to do it in a week. They have to do it right, too, they have to do it efficiently, and they have to do it without loss or destruction of goods.

Hulk Dockers exist in a strange space for most dock workers. They don’t do a lot of work, on average. They’re on contract – if you unload a Hulk, you need to sign up to unload one, load it again, then unload a second Hulk and then load it again. That’s the minimum contract – two ‘Full Reloads.’ During the time you’re on contract, you need to be accountable to the company, that treat you like an investment. You need to do training, for example, and the training includes some safe handling and care measures, but also includes a lot of double-checking and verifying handling, and even more checking to see if you can obey complex orders consistently with your memory. Remember, the way the goods are getting packed onto the Hulk is part of how the Hulk gets to survive the sea at all!

This means that Hulk Dockers are often employed to do very little most of the time. Unloading a Hulk is basically one full week of on-call shift work, and then you have sometimes as much as four months of doing nothing. But you’re still under contract, and you need to be able to fulfill your side of it. So if you spend that time under contract doing things that endanger your health, like adventuring or getting into fights, or dangerous hobbies, you might find yourself getting your payment severed.

Severance is how the company punishes bad contractors. Your contract is ended, you can’t work for them for a year, and they keep a very significant quantity of what money you earned.

But this doesn’t mean while you’re waiting for your money you’re screwed. Hulk Dockers have a stipend, a small amount of spending money that you can use to entertain yourself or send regular money home. You also have lodgings, and those lodgings include free access to staple foodstuffs like flour, bread, water and (admittedly cheap) protein like beans and ham.

The culture of Hulk Dockers is really interesting. The rules say they don’t endanger themselves. The contract says to take care and be safe. But also, it’s a boring life a lot of the time. Sometimes some folk are fine with how boring it is, able to just happily take a month break between huge back-breaking sessions of work, and become lifetime Dockers. Some of them take up the task of being Lodge Managers – people who keep track of the Hulk Dockers and make sure they’re available and trained when the time comes. When you try and start a fight with Hulk Dockers, if their Lodger isn’t a real asshole, and the Hulk’s not due for a few weeks, you might find that suddenly twelve people grab you out of the crowd, wrestle you to the ground and sit on you until you’re unconscious, because they shouldn’t be fighting, they shouldn’t be endangering their hands, but they absolutely are not going to let you mess up the practice they’ve put into the next shift.

When a Hulk needs unloading, Hulk Dockers can lock up a whole dock area, just by moving so much stuff as fast as they do and as quickly as they do. Unloading a Hulk is a task comparable to dismantling a building and they do it fast and efficiently over a course of a few days. And for the first few days after an unload? Chances are good the Hulk Dockers are having a party because a bunch of them just got paid the kind of money that can, in poor places, buy a house.

There are currently three Halfling Trade Houses. They are officially known as Halfling Trade Houses. They are not, by any definition, actually segregated to heritage, and as their dock workers, managers and accountants can most obviously attest, they are by no means limited to employing Halflings. When they were founded, they were, that’s for sure.

Ships and trade have always been important to Halflings culturally. Even the ones who live well away from the coasts have been renowned for their relationship to the sea, referring to their caravans as ‘schooners’ and ‘cutters,’ and a lot of Halfling slang has a maritime bent to it.

A brief history: When Halflings first re-established contact with major cities, it was after twenty years surviving after being ‘lost’. They had had full generations, lost elder members and had even raised children before they made their contact back with people, and there’d been some cultural drift. It wasn’t great, and in this early period, Halflings had to deal with a lot of simple prejudice about not being ‘real people.’ The result was, in some of the places these sailors had grown up, they weren’t considered acceptable people any more and they weren’t allowed to buy or sell property.

Since they were plucky seafaring people who had built their own boat to make their way out of their isolation, they started to just build on this idea: the first Halflings bought Hulks, which is a term for boats that can float, but aren’t seaworthy, and made homes in them. Then, because they all had experience managing and building and rebuilding boats, they started to make Hulks seaworthy, and built wealth that way, buying bad boats, fixing them, and selling them. Before long they were buying good boats as family units, and using those boats to sail and do trades between cities, creating a trade network. The lack of support they received from the existing trade houses and networks meant they just made their own, and eventually, as their experience and shared wealth grew, they began to consider new systems for defraying risk.

First, they started to buy warehouses on the land; then they started to buy boats and rent them to the crews that drove them; then they hit on the idea of Shares. Basically, for any given boat, if you owned 100% of that boat, and the boat sank, you were out the entire cost of the boat. But if every major trading family owned a share in all the boats, then any given boat failing would only hurt everyone involved a little bit, and could be replaced communally. This system was seen, at first, as communalist and entirely in keeping with their previous status as marginalised others.

Anyway, it took only a little time before people were buying and selling Shares in the companies and Halflings started to run Share systems for other companies, resulting in three major Trading Houses, that negotiated and estimated prices for other businesses. This was part of the change that led to the current situation, where three major businesses, known as Halfling Trade Houses, run a market for shares and operational costs of businesses and their debts. The systems of Trade House operation can make rich people richer and poor people confused.

Over time, the twenty or so different Halfling families’ holdings were consolidated into four businesses; the Piton, the Jura, the Carpathia and the Northumbria. Each trade house kept scrupulous records with one another, positioned in four different cities around the world, and you could go to one of these houses and make negotiations about the potential fluctuations in price for a product that was being moved from one city to another without you ever even seeing it.

The Hulks are a byproduct of this consolidation and expansion. Northumbria was the first to devise them – a system where if a sufficiently large ship could do sufficiently large amounts of work, in every exchange, it could monopolise the entire trade force of a dock and both make huge profits and shut out everyone else in the area. This was nearly fifty years ago when Northumbria made its plan to claim all the docks for Halfling Hulks. It failed, for reasons, and the collapse of Northumbria resulted in its compatriot businesses cannibalising it for parts.

But the system of Hulks and vessels was a good one, and the Halfling Trade Houses – which were by this point only majority Halfling staffed and not even vaguely ideologically inclined towards Halfling communalism – began to buy up docks and real estate. The state of affairs for the workers is the result of negotiations with the Unions of each dock, which was fought for and designated with labor action, worker power, and no small amount of blood.

The actual businesses do claim to be family businesses; purely for the show of things. Because of this, it means that senior positions often involve an individual member of the business adopting their successor, legally. For this end, there are members of the ruling boards in each business who aren’t Halflings, and weren’t adopted by Halflings, but who nonetheless have the surname of the Trade House into which their parents or relatives were once adopted. It’s an interesting little ceremonial flourish, but also done entirely to extol the idea of long-term family commitment. It’s good branding.

Of course, this is a multi-national trading corporation using Sending spells to make negotiations on an hourly basis of the going rates of fractions of businesses. It’s not like this engine of erasing responsiblity and managing details is going to be blameless. Things get lost and injustices happen. Shitty Lodgers sever workers before their third round for bad reasons to build profit margins on the edge of a ledger.

And in this history there is the story of Northumbria.

Northumbria collapsed, sure. The business tried to grow too fast, too much. It tried to run Hulks constantly, and it managed it for a few months before the ships started to sink. Northumbria’s deals went wrong and the debts caught up and the whole organisation collapsed, but that’s a word on paper that doesn’t encapsulate what it means. To manage and maintain the Hulk Dockers for their expanded business, the Northumbria quadroupled their work force. The immense lift of it! The scale!

When Northumbria collapsed, then, its holdings were divided up amongst organisations that could afford it. But what of the workers? What of the Dockers who had been hired for four years of contract, and held their breath on the long payout knowing now that they would never see any of it? What of the people who had a year of work lined up? How were they going to get made whole?

Well, you might not be surprised that the Trade Houses cannibalised the company from the top down. The richest managers of Northumbria had money to retire on, made their apologies and paid their debts. But below them? The managers, the paperworkers, the people who tracked Sendings and the people who quickly noted down spoken words? They were all professional workers and every business could just happily scoop them up. They all got jobs in the other Trade Houses.

And then, below that… the problem of the Dockers.

The Hulk Dockers of the Northumbria were all owed. And if you scoop up those workers, to work on your vessel, what’s to stop them collaborating together to negotiate for being made whole out of those debts? After all, it’s a troubled time. The details of how Northumbria fell is a confusing mess. Blame is going all around. It’s best to not touch that kind of investment. Boats? Those are assets. Sailors? They are linked to the assets? Papertouchers and notetakers? They don’t care about what colour of office they’re in. But the Dockers, they do things like unionise and get mad and do work stoppages. That’s volatile.

Without necessarily any kind of public meeting, or agreed upon policy, the Trade Houses froze out the Hulk Dockers who worked for Northumbria for a full year, to abrogate even the appearance of responsibility for these debts. This created an identity of people in this context, many of whom suffered at the hands of the Trade Houses, who resent them, and who have in many cases very legitimate cases against the very principle of a multi-national company that couldn’t be reasonably sued for their failings. They’re also Dockers, so after that year frozen out, a lot of them returned to work for other Houses, and that results in some paranoia from the trade houses about any given work slippage, delay, any problem, any agitation. The fear was of a criminal network (?!), using the badge of the collapsed business, of a badger’s face, and with their own insurance policies and support networks. These people, this network of Hulk Dockers that may not even be real, have a name.

They call them The Northumbrians.

And that’s the Halfling Trade Houses, and their Halfling Hulks. Of course, they’re not Trade Houses of Halflings and they’re not Hulks. But that’s how businesses warp things, and how what people assume to be true is often more important than what is actually true.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[hualianff]

Untethered (Bonus I) 《III》

In the Shadow of Ghosts — The Newton Brothers

Three years ago….

Tap. Tap.

Xie Lian thinks he imagines it at first. After all, it had been a long day of handling commoners’ affairs, entertaining visiting royalty, and carrying out other menial tasks that are required of him as a prince. Not that he minds too much. Xie Lian thoroughly enjoys helping whoever he can and making the kingdom a better place for his people.

But it is exhausting work, and takes both a mental and physical toll on Xie Lian. This is why more often than not, on busy days like this, he requests the servants to have a bath drawn right before he retires to his room for the night. The steaming hot water mixed with Xie Lian’s favorite-scented bath salts loosen his muscles wonderfully, as well as clear his senses.

In the dimly lit washroom, Xie Lian lets himself unwind. It’s a gradual process, one that his body initially rejects after being so wound up for hours on end. Xie Lian lathers a dollop of lavender oil along his waist-length hair, holding it above the water to let the oil properly soak in before rinsing it under the spout.

Simply put, Xie Lian chalks the strange noise up to his restless mind making him hear things that are not there. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened.

Besides, who in their right mind would dare break into a prince’s bedroom chambers, where royal guards surround the premise?

Tap.

At the dusk of twilight?

Tap!

Xie Lian is sure no one is crazy about him enough to scale the palace walls to the third level-

Tap.

-except for someone coming to assassinate him!?

Tap tap tap tap tap-

Okay, now that he didn’t imagine. That incessant tapping is very real.

“Goodness me-” Xie Lian mutters, dunking his head under the water in a lame attempt to hastily clean his hair. He then stumbles out of the tub to grab a gown, flinging it around his body to cover himself up.

Luckily, there are no windows in the washroom. The doors also remain shut, providing the prince with the utmost privacy during his bath times, but also serving as a protective barrier at this moment. However, the distinct tapping continues, clearly coming from the other side of the doors.

Against his better judgment, Xie Lian flattens himself against the wall next to the entrance and knocks back.

The tapping stops.

A muffled “Your Highness” follows in response.

Xie Lian’s stomach violently drops at the familiar drawl. It couldn’t be...

“Prince Xianle,” his tempter calls again.

Xie Lian quietly gasps.

The prince cautiously opens the doors leading into his bedroom. He spots a silhouetted figure standing outside on his balcony, and if the build and height were not a familiar sight, Xie Lian would certainly be freaking out more. By subconsciously wrapping the robe tighter around himself–Xie Lian realizes just how flimsy and inappropriate the garment is for others to set eyes on–and approaches the glass doors

He also realizes he does not care.

Xie Lian pulls aside the sheer, golden velvet curtains.

A lanky, strong-built man in dashing red attire greets him through the glass. Xie Lian’s eyes bulge impossibly wide, mouth parting in surprise.

Crimson Rain grins like the devil he is. He doesn’t say anything more, letting the devious look in his eye do the speaking. When the pirate captain lifts a palm to lay flat against the glass door’s surface, Xie Lian feels a growing urge to intertwine it with his own.

Xie Lian places his own palm on the opposite side of the glass. He knows how terrible of an idea it is to enable intruders onto palace grounds, to let Hua Cheng in and the detrimental repercussions awaiting if they were found out.

City of Stars – Yan Chaojie

Th-th-th-th-thump. Hua Cheng drums his fingers upon the glass, raising an expectant eyebrow. Xie Lian stubbornly shakes his head, making a cutting motion at his neck. The pirate seems to take this as a challenge. He can probably see how close Xie Lian is to giving in, just needs one last push to lure the prince in opening the doors to his chambers.

Hua Cheng frames both hands against the glass, blowing hot air in between, effectively fogging up the surface. He draws a massive heart in the condensation. Xie Lian fails to bite back his smile, yet another one of his actions Hua Cheng notices with a smug look.

The pirate proceeds to drag his finger through practiced strokes, writing backward so Xie Lian can read normally on his side. From where he observes, the concentration apparent on Hua Cheng’s face greatly amuses Xie Lian. The characters are still barely legible. Fortunately, Xie Lian has the experience in deciphering Crimson Rain’s infamous scrawl with the intermittent letters he receives.

谢怜 x 三郎

Xie Lian’s face twists in confusion. He immediately unlocks the glass doors, yanking them to the side.

“Who is San Lang?” Xie Lian demands with a pout, forgetting all about his current state of appearance. Hua Cheng smiles into his fist, then graciously enters Xie Lian’s bedroom.

“Another name I go by,” the pirate answers nonchalantly, sliding the door closed behind him. He towers over Xie Lian, dressed in his trademark black heeled-boots with silver chains, whereas Xie Lian’s feet are bare. Plus, Hua Cheng has only continued to grow since the first time they crossed past nearly two years ago. “Should the weather permit fog in the next few days and anyone happens to see, they will not be able to connect San Lang to me.”

“Hua Cheng, your fingerprints are all over the glass,” Xie Lian reminds in exasperation. Hua Cheng frowns when he is addressed, as if he had eaten something not to his liking. He seamlessly replaces it with a mischievous smirk.

“My fingerprints are not documented in the first place,” he says.

“Oh, I see.”

Pirates abide not by any kingdom’s rule but by the laws of the ocean.

Hua Cheng briefly turns to look back at the fading image of their names, his expression calculated but determined once he meets Xie Lian’s gaze again.

“I believe it would also be safest if you referred to me-” Hua Cheng points to the door. “-as such.”

“As what?”

“...”

“How should I call you?”

Hua Cheng narrows his brooding eye.

“Why ask when you already know the answer?”

“Just spit it out, Crimson Rain.” Xie Lian smiles cheekily.

“Your Highness, do not test me.”

Despite his threatening words, Hua Cheng’s posture is stiff, and can even be described as awkward. His arms have obediently remained by his side the entire time, keeping a respectful distance away from Xie Lian. The prince laughs out loud at how constipated Hua Cheng looks.

Without further adieu, Xie Lian throws himself at the taller man. He glomps onto Hua Cheng like a child grabbing onto a stuffed animal, straining his arms to grasp around the pirate’s broad shoulders.

“If San Lang ever wants a hug, he needs only to ask,” Xie Lian admonishes light-heartedly, squishing his cheek against Hua Cheng’s sternum. Hua Cheng chuckles happily, body finally relaxing into the embrace. He winds his arms around Xie Lian’s middle.

“Gege’s benevolence knows no bounds,” Hua Cheng murmurs tenderly. Xie Lian squeezes tighter around him, having no intentions of letting go soon. He missed his pirate dearly, after all. Three months apart had felt like three years. “This San Lang is gladly indebted to His Highness.”

Hua Cheng gently caresses Xie Lian’s head but pauses when he realizes how slippery the prince’s hair is. The pirate rolls the end of a strand between his fingers, droplets of water escaping the tips.

“Gege, did you recently wash?” he asks. Xie Lian shyly nods, containing his blush when Hua Cheng slightly pulls back to take in his satin gown.

“I was bathing when you arrived,” Xie Lian says. With some space between them, Xie Lan realizes with horror that his damp hair created a huge wet spot on the front of Hua Cheng’s robes.

Before he can apologize, Hua Cheng quickly ushers Xie Lian to sit on the cushioned stool in front of his vanity, muttering “please forgive this San Lang for his untimely intrusion” and “allow me to tend to gege’s hair as atonement for such despicable behavior.”

Xie Lian doesn’t know what to say. Hua Cheng’s submissive words render him speechless. It’s a stark contrast to the way Hua Cheng treated him in the beginning, when they were just rivals holding each other at swordpoint. Only in the last year have they been secretly meeting without the pretense of dueling, and even then, Xie Lian only sees Hua Cheng every few months, whenever the pirate happens to sail near Xianle Kingdom. It would be unfathomable for his past self to consider Crimson Rain anything less than a cunning, vicious pirate.

Now, Hua Cheng stands in the Prince of Xianle’s private chambers, offering to brush his hair.

Xie Lian stares wordlessly at Hua Cheng’s reflection. Hua Cheng’s earnest expression does not fade. How absurd it is that a captain of his own pirate ship would reduce himself to the duty of a simple palace servant. Though the thought often crosses his mind, Xie Lian hasn’t turned Hua Cheng in yet. It feels somewhat treasonous to excuse a pirate trespassing and sneaking around on Xianle territory.

Then again, Hua Cheng hasn’t stirred up trouble in public for one whole year. He merely comes back for Xie Lian. This notion alone makes Xie Lian giddy inside.

Xie Lian reaches for a lavishly jeweled comb, then presents it to Hua Cheng. The pirate accepts the comb with a grateful hum, then takes hold of Xie Lian’s wrist to press his lips to the top of his hand.

Xie Lian’s heart sings.

“Would gege be partial to sharing what a day in Prince Xianle’s life looks like?” Hua Cheng asks as he releases Xie Lian’s hand. He begins running the comb through the prince’s long, weighted locks, effortlessly detangling the lower ends. The sensations are heavenly.

“Only if San Lang tells me what a day in Crimson Rain’s life looks like after,” Xie Lian answers with a sluggish tongue. Through the mirror, he sees Hua Cheng smile in satisfaction. Xie Lian slowly closes his eyes as the continuous brushing motions to his hair send pleasant tingles down his spine.

“Whatever His Highness wishes.”

《Bonus II》

[alaffy]

Riverdale 5x17 - Next to Normal (what a joke)

This was a mess. Where to begin? Let's start with a variation of my warning. I'm not interested in ship wars, you like a certain couple? I'm glad for you, life's too short to argue about something that petty. But I'm more interested in discussing the show. But since they made shipping a plot point tonight, I will be discussing it in general terms. I will try my best not to slight any ship, this is more a complaint in what they're doing with this and the next episode.

Let's start with Veronica. So, I had heard that she was going to break up with Archie because she needed to figure herself out. And, to me, I thought well this might make sense. She's gone through a lot recently and yes her ex was emotionally abusive. Her realizing she needs time to find herself again before she can be in a relationship is not a bad thing. But maybe I missed something because of her song that they cut, because what the hell was that? Don't give me that crap that she somehow didn't expect Archie was a Riverdale for life type of person, she has known that for seasons. And now she's going to be with Reggie?

And then Tabitha and Jughead got together. Now, to me, it played more like two people who have decided to try to date and see if it would work out (I noticed that Jughead says he likes Tabitha in Perfect for You, not that he loved her). I will say this, I'm not too surprised at this pairing, there have been hints that Tabitha liked Jughead and it's been hinted that Jughead may feel something for her as well. But considering at the end of 5x16 he was all like, "Why do you care so much?" It seems like we skipped a few conversations that lead up to "let's date."

And then we have Toni and Fangs which, ok what? And then next episode it will be Veggie and Barchie? Look, again, I don't want to say that people shouldn't enjoy their ships they like or to ruin anyone's moment. But in the long term, even if people don't agree with me now, I don't think this is something most people will be happy with in the long term. If it were one or two new couples, I wouldn't think much of it. Maybe they're trying something new, maybe not. The fact that this is happening before this special event and that everybody is with a new partner, this is a stunt. Now maybe, just maybe some of the ships that sailed tonight might make it though, but all I see are iceburgs ahead. And no, I don't think anybody should think their ship is safe after tonight. Look, while I have a tendency to point out things that I think could be better in a show, I generally don't call something bad writing (as I have seen way worse then Riverdale). But this? Yeah, this is bad.

And finally, we get to the part of the show that it should have been all about. The aftermath of Polly's death. First of all, I have had coworkers who showed more concern about me when my mother died then Betty's friends did with her. All of their friends decided to do a holding pattern, after what Betty said in the bar? Excuse my language, but fuck off. After a conversation like that, I would be at that house every day to make sure there wasn't something they needed, probably because deep down inside I would have been a little afraid that one of them was about to off themself.

I will say I did enjoy Lili's singing and I like how they got around the whole Hal thing. And it was inventive for them to have both Polly and Charles there. But then there was the ending. This episode could have been the moment where Betty and Alice finally dealt with how toxic their relationship is. Yes, Alice loves Betty, but she's also been emotionally abusive and deeply neglective. In season three alone, and in order to save Polly, she: convinced Betty she was a part of a cult; gave away Betty's college money; sold the home Betty was in, effectively making her homeless; shut her up in the same abusive convent that she put Polly in; and, while not directly involved, all of these actions helped lead to the point where Betty was almost lobotomized by a cult leader. This is one season and Betty was expected to come back home? Seriously, if your parent did half of the stuff to you that Alice has done to Betty, would you come back? Even Madchen has stated that Betty has a tendency to be the Mom in the relationship. That's not a good thing. Now, do I believe that Alice said what she said in the moment because she was unwell? Yes. But I have a problem with the fact that Betty was the one to apologize to her, promising that she would never leave. Betty went to Yale and joined the FBI, that is something a good parent would be proud of. And, of course, she should want her daughter around, but her daughter shouldn't have to give up her life to make her mother happy.

Though I one thing I do find interesting at the end, everyone including the children are singing "Let There be Light," all except for Jughead. I mean, in every shot his mouth is completely closed. I wonder if there's a reason for it, or if it's just one of those behind the scenes moments.

Woof. Enough. Honestly, at the moment, this is my least favorite episode of Riverdale. I'm going to cleanse my pallet by catching up with "Only Murders in the Building."

[noctuaas]

AS YOU WISH; t. kuroo

synopsis; in this tale of romance, revenge, and treason, you, a beautiful commoner, are set to become the princess of aobajousai. will your one true love be able to save you in time?

pairing; kuroo tetsurou x reader

content; princess bride au (heavily based on both the movie and novel), medieval au, torture, mild violence, drama, fantasy/adventure, murder, fem!reader

fic navigation

01 ; THE BRIDE

TO BE THE MOST beautiful girl in the world was a concept far past your concern. Those around you certainly saw the potential, but at 16 years old, you simply could not care less to capitalize on your natural beauty. (Beauty routines were exhausting in your eyes. You only washed your face so as not to feel filthy, taking a razor to your leg hair was far more trouble than it seemed worth, and you were quite sick of brushing your hair, so you did so as little as possible.) All you really wanted to do was ride your horse and pester the farm boy that worked for your parents.

Prince, as you had taken to calling the horse when he was just a yearling, was a loyal companion. Other girls your age grew attached to one of their herding dogs’ pups, or the kitten of a barn cat, but you had Prince. He always came when you called, steered where you told him even on a loose rein, nuzzled your face on bad days. 

For all the time you spent taunting and bossing the farm boy around—“Farm Boy, fetch me this,” and “Farm Boy, take care of that,”—he always had one thing in common with the horse: he always did as he was told.

(Perhaps you knew that he was really a young man now—he was a year or two older than you—but he had been just an orphaned boy when he first came to work for your father, so that was what you referred to him as: Farm Boy.)

“As you wish,” he always replied, without fail.

Your father was fond of the farm boy, often remarking how he should leave him an acre of land in his will for all his hard work. These conversations never lasted long though, not before your parents would turn to you and chide you for needing to go bathe again and clean yourself up after spending the day in the barn.

Despite your disdain for taking care of yourself like a “proper lady,” as your mother liked to say, your natural beauty was still enough to cause the village boys to flock to you. Those dimwits always liked to badger you with stupid questions whenever you rode into town, offering silly favors and making awkward small talk, much to dismay of the rest of the girls in the village. The boys were always so annoying, and you often noted how much more tolerable Farm Boy was as you dismissed their advances. Eventually they took to making fun of you, laughing over snide remarks about you because they must have been embarrassed about being shot down. Sometimes the insults were too much to ignore, and when that was the case, Farm Boy took matters into his own hands. You always thanked him after he sent a village boy home bloodied and crying, and he always answered, “As you wish.”

You came to realize that Farm Boy was the only boy your age whose presence you seemed to enjoy. One night, you lied awake with the dim light from a full moon crawling through your window, thinking about how he was always kind and respectful to you, how he protected you and your honor, how he seemed to smile at you differently than he ever smiled at the other girls in town. (You also let yourself admit that he was quite handsome, with his amber eyes and ebony hair that was always in a perfect bedhead state, which was something you had never bothered caring about before.)

After that, your time was no longer divided between riding your horse and pestering the farm boy; now, ‘pestering’ was to be replaced with ‘falling for’. You let him join you on rides through the woods on Prince; you began doing your morning reading in the barn to keep him company while he fed the animals; you took it upon yourself to take out any extra supper your mother cooked to him. You even decided to stop calling him ‘Farm Boy’.

“What’s your actual name, Farm Boy?” you asked out of the blue.

“Why do you ask?” he had replied, and you snorted in mild amusement.

“Well, after having known you all these years, it must be quite rude of me to still call you ‘Farm Boy’.”

He paused and grinned that endearing grin of his, “Just call me Kuroo, then.”

Everything was so blissful for the year following. You loved Kuroo, and he loved you. Even on the day the royal Count and Countess of Aobajousai had strangely paid your family a visit, you both were sure of this; because while the Countess took Kuroo’s arm gently for him to show her the dairy cows and the Count watched you intently as you followed the small procession on your horse, you and Kuroo both stared at each other.

At the end of one year though, Kuroo unexpectedly showed up at your window in the middle of the night.

“I’ve come to say goodbye.”

You shot up straight in your bed, cocking your head incredulously, “What do you mean, ‘goodbye’?”

“I mean I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Have I done—”

“I’m taking to the sea to seek my fortune,” he cut you off. “There’s a ship that sails out of Karasuno, to the new country of Inarizaki. There’s great opportunity there, so I’m going.”

You were shell-shocked for a moment. Leaving? Sailing to Inarizaki? Where was this all coming from?

“But why? What about the farm? What about us?” You finally said. Your voice was already beginning to quiver pathetically as tears brimmed in your eyes.

“I’ve been training at night, so I hardly need sleep or food, and I’ll get two 10-hour-a-day jobs. I’m gonna save every penny, and in just a couple years I’ll have enough to buy a big farm and build a brand new house just for the two of us.”

“For the two of us?” Your brows furrowed and your voice was meek.

“Yes, (y/n). I love you. All these years I’ve stayed here because of you. I’ve taught myself foreign languages, made my body strong, everything, for you. I’ve been head over heels for you since I was a kid. Do you understand what I’m saying, or should I keep going?”

(By now, Kuroo had squeezed his broad frame through your window, somehow landing gracefully on the floor and sliding next to you on your bed so he could wipe away your tears with his thumb. It was a good thing he was athletic enough to do so quietly, because if your parents caught him in your room, all hell might break loose.)

“Never stop,” you mumbled dreamily.

“There hasn’t been a day—”

“You better not be teasing me, Kuroo, or I’ll have your hide,” you broke in this time. Kuroo loved to tease you, and it was normally all in good fun, but if that was the case now, then he was taking it way too far.

“I’d never joke about loving you,” he replied. “Remember all those years when you would tell me, ‘Farm Boy, do this, Farm Boy, do that’? What did I always say?”

“‘As you wish’.”

“Well, that’s just what you thought I was saying. I was actually saying ‘I love you’,” Kuroo smiled gently and ran his fingers through your hair.

All that time? You couldn’t even recall the first time Kuroo started saying ‘As you wish’ to all your commands, but apparently he had been in love with you. Before you had ever even noticed him, he was devoted to you. It sounded like a fairy tale.

“I love you too, Kuroo. I’ll never stop loving you, I swear,” you finally said.

“I’ll hold you to it, princess. I have to go now if I want to make it to Karasuno in time, but I’ll send for you soon. Promise.”

You nodded in understanding, but you couldn’t let him leave without one last kiss.

There had been five great kisses since the beginning of time. Though the precise rating of kisses is a bit convoluted and controversial (everyone knows that the formula for a great kiss is comprised of timing, affection, intensity, and duration, but there has never been a universal agreement on each element’s weight), there was no doubt that this kiss left every other in the dust.

The following morning, all you wanted to do was lay around and mope. It was perfectly justifiable, considering the love of your life had just left the country, and you wouldn’t see him for God knows how long. You wallowed in self pity for about an hour before realizing that Kuroo was out in the great big world now, and with as handsome as he was, he would surely have women throwing themselves at him.

What if all this moping destroys my beauty, and when he sends for me, I’ll arrive in Inarizaki, and he’ll take one look at me and send me back?

“Mother,” you ran downstairs, interrupting whatever petty argument your parents were having. “I need your advice. How can I better take care of my appearance?”

“You’ve never cared about your appearance, honey. Why are you asking this all of a sudden?”

“Well, I’m nearly 18 now. I figure it’s about time I start behaving a little more like a lady,” you lied. It was enough to appease your mother, and she grabbed your arm and began dragging you to the washroom in delight.

You quickly learned that taking such care of yourself was hard work; the saying, ‘beauty is pain,’ made an awful lot of sense now. But for Kuroo, nothing was too much. Every morning, you awoke at dawn to start the farm chores. You had to pick up all the slack left by Kuroo, so there wasn’t really any time for self-improvement until the afternoon, but once you started, you took it very seriously. Daily baths, simple exercises, and all the time it took to brush your hair out perfectly before bed.

If the whole town thought you were beautiful before, now they all knew you must be a contender for the most beautiful girl in the world. You, however, still had no care for how beautiful the rest of the world found you; as long as Kuroo found you beautiful. (In the coming years, you would learn that you were beautiful no matter what, and simplify your beauty routine to what you liked. As long as you felt clean and tidy, that was sufficient.)

Kuroo wrote you letters every few months, and you kept every one of them. Sometimes people would ask you how he was doing, which was a mistake unless they had a lot of spare time, because you could talk about him for hours. It was obvious that you were completely and utterly in love, and so the village boys eventually stopped trying, and the village girls warmed back up to you.

It made sense the way Kuroo’s death hit you the way it did.

The news reached your parents first. The Count (a new fellow named Iwaizumi, appointed by Prince Oikawa shortly after the last one’s death) was sent to your farm to deliver the news since it was Kuroo’s last known place of residence. You were returning from town on your horse when Count Iwaizumi was leaving your property.

“Miss,” he nodded politely as you crossed paths. You rode on in confusion, and the new Count watched you intently, much like the last one.

When you made it into the house, both your parents hushed up and looked at you with pity.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s The Crow’s Wing, darling. It was attacked,” your mother told you.

Kuroo’s ship was attacked? You furrowed your brows, “What?”

“Pirates. In the night,” your father explained.

You knew the trip across the sea would be dangerous, but you never thought it would happen to him. Sliding into a chair, you decided it might be best to sit down.

The room was quiet until you managed to squeak out, “So Kuroo’s been taken prisoner, then?”

A long sigh from your parents, and then, a, “No.”

“It was the Dread Pirate Nekomata.”

You blinked, willing back tears. The Dread Pirate Nekomata was the most famous pirate in all the world, and he never took prisoners. In all these years in his reign of terror, no one survived an attack from the Dread Pirate Nekomata.

You went to your room, and this time around, you allowed yourself to mope. For six days, you sulked, and cried, and mourned. Not once did you come out of your room, so your parents took to leaving food outside your door, which you only ever picked at meekly. During those six days in your room, you decided you would never love again.

[kiwi-muses]

Kanej WIP

I’m not entirely sure if I’m going to go anywhere with this but I’ve been enjoying working on this little fic in my downtime. 

-----

It had been a few days since the fight, and Inej could tell the wound was getting worse. It was entirely her fault, for neglecting it, but in her defense, others had more serious wounds that needed attending to. Or, so she had thought. Now, she was beginning to think her wound was more serious than it initially led her to believe.

The slash was across her waist, long but not deep. She had done a quick wrap, but had forgotten to seek attention from an actual medik after she saw to the children from the slave ship. The next evening, she began to see flickers - someone walking by her just out of sight, but when she turned, no one was there. It made her uneasy. The next day, the visions got worse and Inej felt warm. Inej knew something wasn’t right when she was seeing Matthias - he was dead, and he couldn’t possibly be on her ship but there he was, right across from her in her cabin, talking to her.

They were two days from Kerch when the visions became nightmares and began to haunt her. She thought she could make it. She thought wrong.

Kaz was going about his day to day business - balancing the books, breaking some noses, and the like - when a man he had never seen literally ran into The Crow Club. It wasn’t often someone ran into the building (though people often ran out of it) and it had Kaz raising an eyebrow. The man looked around wildly, and when he caught Kaz’s eye, he made a beeline straight for him. Kaz straightened as the man came to stand in front of him. “What business?” he asked, using the customary Kerch greeting despite this man not looking as though he was from Kerch.

“I need you to come with me,” said the man. He was tall, with dark hair and dark skin, much like Inej, and had that same lilt to his voice as she did. Kaz supposed he must be Suli. He was broad shouldered with strong arms, but not too tall. Kaz could tell he was nervous, constantly twitching like he needed to be in motion.

Kaz raised an eyebrow. “Not likely,” he remarked dryly.

“Please,” he said, “I need you to come to our ship. The Captain said if anything went wrong we were to come and find you.” Kaz furrowed his brows. There was only one captain of one ship on his radar, and certainly only one that might have any measure of trust to send someone to him.

Maybe it’s someone different. Maybe she sent another ship your way. “What exactly did your Captain say? Why didn’t the Captain come to me personally?”

“The Captain said if something went wrong, we needed to find Kaz Brekker - he’d be in a suit with a crow head cane, with eyes the color of bitter coffee. The Captain didn’t come because… the Captain is the problem, sir.” Kaz was beginning to get a bad feeling in his gut. The man looked around, leaned in a little closer, and said in a whisper, “There’s something wrong, and we had to contain the Captain. There was no other way, and we don’t know what to do.” Kaz very nearly growled as his eyes narrowed, and the man backed away from him. He felt that white hot fury prickle in his chest at the thought of Inej being contained, of being caged.

“Leave here, and I will come as soon as I am able.” The man clearly wanted to argue, but self preservation won out as he looked into Kaz’s shark eyes, and he departed as quickly as he had come. Kaz called for one of his new runners, an orphan Inej had saved that had nowhere else to go. “Go to the Van Eck mansion, and tell them to meet me at Berth 22.” The runner nodded, and quickly ran off. Kaz waited a few minutes, the picture of calm, before he got his coat and headed to Fifth Harbor, his mind racing with the possibilities.

Kaz wasn’t used to this panic, this unsurity. He never went into a situation without all of the information, every bit of gossip he could find. Granted, that had been harder since his Wraith had left him and the Dregs a year ago, but Dirtyhands never let that stop him. There wasn’t much that could bring his Wraith down, and the fact that something brought her down enough that she could be considered a danger to her own crew made a chill run down his spine. She loved her ship, she loved her crew. He remembered the day she set sail. It had been a month after her parents had arrived in Ketterdam, and she and Specht had spent the month gathering a crew. He hadn’t seen her much as a result, but Inej had come to see him the night before she set sail for the first time. He’d been at his desk and he felt that familiar shift in the air. Without turning around, he had said, “What business?” There had been a moment of silence, and then a quiet, “I set sail tomorrow.” He had turned around then. She’s been on his windowsill, the light of the moon dancing across her hair, and he’d had another moment where he believed in magic. “What’s your plan?” he rasped.

She settled in on the windowsill. “We’ll spend a month at sea, learning to operate as a crew. Then we’ll head to the Ravkan coast - the caravans will be traveling through, so we can drop off my parents and start hunting the slavers.”

Kaz smirked. “Efficient.” A smile flickered across Inej’s face.

“I know you don’t do goodbyes, so I figured I wouldn’t see you at the docks tomorrow. But I wanted to thank you, even though I still haven’t found the words for what you have done for me.” Her gaze was steady, and it made him feel warm.

“This city owes you for what it did to you,” he remarked. “I just made it pay up.” Inej looked at him, and he felt as though she saw right through him.

“You did this, not the city, and I will not forget that. I am not done here, Kaz Brekker.” She slid off the windowsill and made her way towards him, and his heart began to pound inside his chest. She stopped next to him, and he looked up at her as she knelt down to his side until she was eye level with him. “I am not done with you, Kaz.” His heart was galloping inside his chest as her eyes bore into his, and then she was leaning towards him. As gentle as a breeze, she pressed her lips to his cheek, and his heart felt as though it stuttered and died. She pulled away, and his body had no chance to roil in disgust at the contact of her skin, just revel in the softness of her. He brought his gloved fingertips to her cheek as she gave him a gentle smile, and then she left the way she had come, silent as the night.

Kaz reached back to that evening when the days were hard, when he needed to remember her. As he walked to Fifth Harbour, he felt that flint in his chest getting ready to strike, ready to ignite that white hot fire, if Inej was anything but perfectly well.

----

Inej knew her crew had put her in the brig. Truthfully, she couldn’t blame them after she had thrown a knife and almost hit Maji, a young boy that had joined their crew. She had been aiming for someone else… but they weren’t real, and the knife had been, and lodged itself in the very real wood of the ship. After that, Inej surrendered her knives even though it ripped something apart in her. However, it was often forgotten that the Wraith didn’t need knives to be dangerous. After she attacked the crew member who tried to look at her wound, she was tossed in the brig for their protection.

“You set sail to help the frightened girls like you,” a familiar gravely voice said. “It seems to me you just managed to frighten them in a different sort of way.” Kaz’s voice, that had been a balm to her, was a mockery. He’s not there, he’s not real. But Saints, he sounded like he was right next to her. She peeked at him past the curtain of her hair; it had long fallen from it’s braid in her struggles against the imaginary. He was standing just outside the bars.

“I knew when I gave you this ship it would be a waste.” He clicked his tongue. “I figured you’d last a touch longer though; afterall, you were the Wraith.” The past tense, the mockery - it became too much and she lunged forward, grasping the bars. Kaz didn’t flinch.

“I am still the Wraith. This doesn’t change that. It doesn’t change that I am the deadliest knife wielder in Ketterdam.” Kaz stared her down.

“It seems to me you’re just a prisoner, someone meant to be caged, whether by silks, or knives and crows, or bars. Stop trying to be something you’re not Inej.”

She could feel the tears running down her face as she pushed away from the bars, and turned her back to him. Having the voice she trusted most give volume to her fear was too much, and her heart couldn’t take it after the last two days. The first time Kaz showed up, she’d thought she had just slept through the rest of the voyage and somehow made it to Ketterdam. Her heart had stuttered seeing his familiar face. He could help her - he would figure out why she had seen Matthias, why she had seen others long dead. Kaz had looked her in the eye, and said, “Little Lynx, caged yet again. That certainly didn’t take long.” She had backed away, her breath catching in her throat at the sound of the name in the tenor of his voice.

“You don’t call me that,” she had whispered.

Kaz had laughed. “Why not? Just because I didn’t use your body doesn’t mean I didn’t use you just the same. You were a means to an end Wraith. I have my regrets about giving you up, that’s for certain.” Every word had suffocated her more and more, her eyes clenching shut and she tried to make sense of what he was saying. But when she opened her eyes, he was gone, and Specht was standing in his place.

“Where’s Kaz?” she had asked. Specht furrowed his brow. “I just saw him.”  

“Captain, he’s not here. We haven’t even made port in Ketterdam yet; we’re at least a day and a half out.” Specht was concerned, she could see, but she was too busy trying to make it all make sense. If they hadn’t made it to port, it couldn’t have been Kaz there. But who was it?

That had been at the beginning. By now, Kaz had returned to taunt her, giving voice to every insecurity, every question she had ever asked herself.

“Did you think you were going to be able to undo all the terrible things you did?”

“You know, you’ll never escape your past. Once a little lynx, always a little lynx. How long until a slaver ship sinks you and takes you back? I bet you’d make a great prize.”

“I’m the king of the barrel - I’m not sure how you could ever think I’d want someone like you. I could have anyone, for any reason I choose.”

It was a special kind of torture, for Kaz to be her tormentor. Matthias had remarked that he’d thought she’d been good deep down inside, but she’d turned out as horrible as the worst of them. And it had hurt, but from Kaz it was like having her own knives turned on her. She wasn’t sure how long she could stand this slow torture, this persistent torment. She prayed for her Saints to grant her oblivion.

[secret-engima]

@hamelin-born

*kicks down door* Okay so I’m so sorry you’ve had a bad week, and since I am physically incapable of coming over and giving you a hug, I shall give you bby Dionysus being adorable with his (dead)relatives and Deleantur getting shipped by the local Galahdian bear woman instead!

...

     The man shrugged and played with the edge of his cloak, “You may call me Herodotus. Or,” he added when he saw Dionysus’s face screw up at the long name —so many of his dream relatives had such long names that were hard—, “you can just call me Wander.”

     “Wander?”

     The soft smile grew bigger, mischievous, “It’s a nickname. I’ve never really been the kind of person to stay in one place for very long. Will that suit, Little Traveller?”

     Dionysus mouthed the word, then nodded, “Wander.” He looked around them in curiosity, at the glowing flowers and living magic lights and trees bigger than buildings, “Where are we?”

     “One of my memories,” Wander answered as he leaned back against the tree trunk, “my … safe place I suppose. Though I have had many over the years, this one was my first, so I suppose it is my favorite.”

     “But where?” He’d never seen anything like this outside of storybooks. He wanted to go see it for himself when he woke up next.

     Wander shook his head and looked amused, “I’m sorry, Little Traveler, but this is not a place you can find on Eos.” Dionysus stared at him with big eyes and Wander leaned in with a whisper and a gesture at his cloak, “When I was younger, I met a wonderful group of people who liked to travel as much as I did, and they showed me many things. Some of those were places that you could not, and will never, find on any map of Eos.”

     Dionysus leaned closer, “Like the story of the magic rock that secretly led t’ the world of Hiso Hiso al’ens?”

     Wander’s eyes glittered and his magic that draped around them felt like delighted laughter, “Just like that, yes. But my doorway wasn’t a rock.”

     Dionysus looked all around in awe. He was in a secret world just like in the stories! Or the memory of a secret world anyway. He looked back over at Wander, “Did you fight an evil copy of your frien’? Did the copy try t’ de- delete the whole world ‘till you an’ Serah stopped it an’ saved all the Hiso Hiso?”

     Wander’s shoulders shook a little, then stilled, “No. Nothing quite so exciting. But I did meet a woman with cat ears and a tail, and we did become good friends.” Dionysus gasped in excitement, and when Wander stood up and held out his hand, Dionysus took it without hesitation, “Come on,” Wander chuckled, “I’m afraid I cannot show you any aliens or evil copies, but I can show you a few other places I’ve been that no one on Eos will find.”

     And he did. A few steps into the woods and the trees all turned to hills of sand and shimmering waves of sunny heat. Strange creatures with humps on their backs plodded slowly by in the distance, and in front of them was a tower that reached up to the sky all by itself. Wander told him that it was a dungeon, and that anyone who managed to reach the treasure at the very top would become a king and get magic of their very own. Dionysus asked him if he’d ever done it, if he had dungeon magic, but Wander shook his head and said he already had magic, so he’d let a friend take it instead. They plodded their way through a few shifting steps of sand and suddenly they were out of the hot sand and on an island in the sky. There was a strange ceiling high-high-high above their heads, and Wander told him that this was not one floating island, but a hundred of them all stacked on top of each other, each one just a bit smaller than the last so they didn’t block out all the sunlight for the levels below. Dragons swooped off in the distance, and when Wander led him to the edge and held him tight so he wouldn’t fall, Dionysus leaned over and saw nothing but thick clouds drifting below them.

     They stepped back and the world became an ocean. They stood on the wooden deck of a ship and around them was bright blue water and flapping sails and before them was some kind of creature so big it was an island, it’s long legs plodding slowly through the sea with trees and buildings on its back. Wander told him that talking animals lived on the back of the big creature, and that very few people could find the island unless they were born there because it was always moving. He led Dionysus below decks and then they were on an island with a tree growing in the middle that was so tall and so big it had another, much smaller island sitting in its branches. The air tingled with old-friendly-amused magic that felt like laughter and mysteries, and Wander told him that this was the island of fairies.

     He showed Dionysus a bunch of places, each one different and strange and amazing, each one with a little story to go with it that made Dionysus want desperately to know and explore more until the next one came and he wanted to see that one instead. Wander held his hand the whole time, steady and sure, making sure he never got lost or stepped too close to something dangerous. It was amazing and weird and exciting, and Dionysus decided he liked Wander a lot. Wander was different from the others, even Grandma Crepera. He didn’t seem to have any questions, and he didn’t mind answering all of Dionysus’s. He wasn’t grumpy, or loud, and there was … something about him. About his soft voice and the look in his eyes that reminded Dionysus of his dad.

... (And here’s Deleantur!)

     He sensed someone approach through the outskirts of the crowd. Not that it was easy to miss someone as big as Chief Ligeia considering she stood a head taller than most of the other people here. He tipped his chin to her in greeting as she came to a stop next to him, a mug of something that smelled like alcohol in one hand. She grinned at him, all teeth and good humor, “Going to just watch? Or are you going to go have some fun?”

     Deleantur shrugged and went back to crowd-watching, “I am having fun.” It wasn’t a lie, he found it both fascinating and entertaining to watch the party unfold before him. Galahdians weren’t all that different from the mainland in how they celebrated, but there were differences that were interesting to see. For one thing, there was a lot more dancing and singing. Even people taking a break at the makeshift feasting tables were all but dancing on the benches, feet tapping, heads bobbing- there was never a moment of stillness even from the groups lingering on the outskirts of the party to talk rather than dance.

     The dances themselves were a lot more vibrant and energetic too. There were no royal waltzes here, but circle dances that dragged everyone nearby into them, or spinning dances where partners traded off at dizzying speeds. There was also a vaguely alarming number of somersaults, backflips, and instances of people climbing up trees and rubble like squirrels to better perform an acrobatic flip in time to the music, and not just from the children and the teenagers. He half suspected that the only reason the Elders weren’t doing such stunts were because they were physically too old and arthritic to pull it off.

    Chief Ligeia scoffed, “Just watching is never fun. You should go out there and dance. Don’t want Stella to think you’re ignoring her, do you?”

     Deleantur blinked at her, then glanced into the crowd where Stella was currently spinning and flipping in time with her little brother Eventus like some kind of circus performance rather than a dance for a party, “She knows where to find me if she needs me.”

     Chief Ligeia slapped one of his shoulders hard enough that he had to bite back a hiss, “Not the point. You should be out there dancing with her. It’s good for young people like you two.” Deleantur gave her the flattest look he could manage and barely refrained from telling her that he was currently two thousand years removed from his date of birth —though that distance was technically in reverse—, even if he only looked to be twenty-six. But that wasn’t something he told anyone, especially not a party-happy stranger. Chief Ligeia rolled her eyes, utterly undisturbed by his look, and slapped his shoulder again in an effort to get him moving, “Go on.”

     Deleantur raised an eyebrow and didn’t budge, “Why do you care?”

     The Behemoth of a woman took a long drink from her mug, then answered blithely, “Because Candor is my second cousin and Stella is the best niece I ever had and I want her to be happy. You dancing with her will make her happy. So,” the woman moved with astonishing speed, so fast even Deleantur’s instincts and borrowed experience couldn’t stop her from bodily lifting him by the back of his tunic with one hand and all but toss him into the flow of the crowd, “go dance with her!” Deleantur staggered into the crowd, trying to catch his balance, then yelped as his hands were snatched up by a passing dancer and he was pulled into the flow.

... (and here, have a long snip of Buckler too)

     They camped on the nearest Haven for the night, and Axis cooked dinner without comment while Nox fussed over his uncle and the redhead just sighed and complained about losing his shirts. He listened to them bicker, watched the way their shoulders slowly relaxed the longer Axis went without recoiling from them or acting afraid, and came to a decision. It was a reckless one, a stupid one even but … but it felt like the right one. He hadn’t asked about what happened, or how Ardyn had magic, but he knew what he’d seen and so did they. He knew not just one, but two of their greatest secrets now —that Nox was a Lucis Caelum, that Ardyn was a Lucis Caelum and couldn’t die—.

     In the morning, before they could wander off into the wilderness again, Axis invited —ordered— them to come with him to Meldacio HQ. The two exchanged nervous glances before obediently following him on the trek up to the Vesperpool area.

     If his wife was surprised when Axis turned up a week later with not just Nox in tow, but Niflheim’s Chancellor, she didn’t show it. She just smiled and welcomed them into their tiny house with a gesture and a promise of dinner soon. Nox’s eyes were wide as they shuffled in and Axis had known Ardyn long enough to spot the nervous edge in his sweeping bow.

     Both of them went totally still when they spotted the playpen taking up most of the living room floor, filled with ratty stuffed toys that Axis had either purchased from Outposts or had been gifted by members of his, Tredd’s, and Luche’s Clans. Inside the playpen, Axis’s triplets —his treasures, his children, his greatest and most precious secrets— cooed and babbled eagerly at Axis, waving their hands and crawling around. His last visit hadn’t been that long ago, and they remembered him —the fact that he had been gone for long enough stretches when they were smaller that he’d been a stranger to them would always hurt—. Venia, his smallest and boldest, spotted Nox and Ardyn and babbled at them, fearlessly crawling up to the edge of the playpen to look at them. Axis reached in and picked her up, kissing her forehead and tickling her stomach with a hand to hear her laugh before turning to watch Nox’s and Ardyn’s reactions.

     Nox was still staring at Historia and Spiritus in the playpen, a bright-eyed look on his face and a shiver of power in the air that felt protective. He looked at them like any of Axis’s remaining clan did, or how Tredd and Luche had first looked at them. Awe and protectiveness and already blooming adoration. Axis glanced at Ardyn.

     Ardyn was staring at Venia, and the look on his face took Axis’s breath away. There was pure, open adoration there, wonder and a bright-edged fear, like just being near her would be enough to break her. Venia spotted Ardyn staring, dressed in all his clashing layers and colors, and giggled at him. She had never been afraid of strangers, and she didn’t hesitate to flail her hands in his direction, babbling with all the energy of a healthy nine month old. Ardyn flinched faintly away, even though her hands were nowhere near him, his own hands curling shyly inside his long sleeves like he was terrified of touching her.

     Something in Axis’s heart broke a little.

     No one as unexpectedly kind as Ardyn should fear being near a child.

     “Her name is Venia,” Axis murmured, “that’s her sister Historia, and her brother Spiritus.”

     “They’re so little.” Nox cooed as he crouched just outside the playpen, watching the two babies who stared back with far less fearless curiosity than their sister had —but not outright fear, Axis wondered if they too could feel Nox’s magic swelling around the room, rumbling with protective and already loving emotions—. Porrima reappeared at Axis’s elbow, reaching past him to pluck Spiritus out of the playpen. She gave their guests a considering look, then calmly reached out and plopped their son into Nox’s arms. Nox’s grip tensed, but his arms shifted into a proper position with a speed that looked instinctive, “Hey, wait-!”

     Porrima ignored Nox’s breathless squawk and Spiritus’s wary coo, just picked up Historia and turned to face Ardyn, who had gone stiff as a board and deathly white, “Madam,” Ardyn said tensely, “I don’t think-.”

     “Are you going to hurt them?” Porrima asked.

     Ardyn’s jaw tightened, “Never, but I don’t-.”

     “Are your arms so weak you’ll drop her?”

     “No, but-.”

     “Are you sick?”

     Ardyn shook his head but kept shying subtly back, “I-.”

     Axis sighed at his wife as she exchanged Historia for Venia, then turned and fearlessly stepped into Ardyn’s space to put their boldest daughter in the arms of Niflheim’s Chancellor —and the king’s unknown relative—. Ardyn went stone still as soon as Venia was in his arms, hands cradling her like she was fragile as glass and his eyes huge. Axis bounced Historia in his arms a little as he scolded, “Porrima. Don’t force them to hold the children if they don’t want to.”

     “But they do want to, and it’s good for the triplets to meet new safe people,” his wife sniffed back. Then she flitted back to the kitchen without waiting to see the fallout of her actions.

     Sometimes his wife trusted his judgement and choice of houseguests a little too much.

     Axis sidled closer to Ardyn and held out an arm, “I can take her back if this really makes you uncomfortable.”

     Ardyn stared down at Venia with the roundest eyes Axis had ever seen. Venia blinked up at her new handler, looked over at her dad, then looked back at Ardyn and clumsily patted his cheek, grabbing curiously at his red-violet hair a moment later. Ardyn inhaled, and Axis felt a second magic flood the room, old and powerful and monstrously protective. Where Nox’s was deep like the ocean, powerful but … subtle, like currents under the surface, Ardyn’s magic felt wild. It felt like the ripple of spotted fur in the jungle, the glimpse of fangs and teeth of a feral beast. Nox’s protective adoration of the little boy he was bouncing in his arms was like the pull of the tide, sweeping in and out with each breath, but Ardyn’s-. Ardyn’s was the rumble of a Coeurl’s purr as it curled around its cub, the singing edge of bloody steel, promising death to anyone that so much as looked wrong at Axis’s triplets.

     Ardyn very slowly sank down onto the floor, legs crossed to form a lap for Venia to flop on, and when he looked up at Axis, his normally blue eyes were a brilliant, Coeurl gold, “They’re beautiful.” He whispered hoarsely.

[one-piece-drabbles]

Can you please do one with Rodger knowing about ace's execution and maybe ace being saved by luffy and reacting idk alive or dead. This doesn't even makes sense but anything like this will work.

Y’know, it’s not really what you’re looking for, but I figured an answer to this ask was better than no answer at all. Between rewriting an old Ace time-travel fic of mine, I’ve been working on a new Ace time-travel fic with...different goals. If you don’t mind, I’ll be using your ask an excuse to post about it.

So if any of y’all out there have facts about Roger and/or his crew (I’ll take headcanons too), send them my way! I could use some inspiration. Read on if you want a taste of what I’ve been up to with all of this.

“This will be my final order as your captain!”

Ace slowed to a stop. Final?

“It’s time for us to part ways! You must all survive and return to the new world!”

Someone was yelling, begging Whitebeard to say he wasn’t planning on dying here, but it was plain on the old man’s face: he was making himself the last sacrifice.

“I’m a relic of a bygone era!” Whitebeard declared, silencing the complaints. “No ship can carry me into the new age! Get away from here, my sons!”

His next quake rocked Marineford, nearly throwing Ace off his feet. Luffy was still tugging him along towards the ships, but Ace couldn’t tear his eyes from his father.

“Pops!” One last word. One last look. One last something.

Whitebeard grinned in the face of the entire navy bearing down on him. “It’s been a long journey. Let’s finish this once and for all!”

All of Marineford was crumbling, the massive structures little more than paper in the face of Whitebeard’s power. The ground rumbled like the sea in a storm, but through all of it, Whitebeard was an unshakeable pillar of destruction.

Haruta broke rank. “We can’t leave you behind, Pops!”

Whitebeard’s response was swift and catastrophic, stopping Haruta in his tracks. “Can’t you follow your captain’s orders?” he roared. “Get away from here, you lousy brats!”

The tide of pirates began to retreat. It pulled at Ace, but he remained rooted to the spot, that pounding need for just one more look crystallizing into its true shape. He broke from Luffy’s grip and took one step towards his father. His only father.

“Ace!” Luffy cried. “We gotta go!” And then, words that cut like knives: “Don’t let the old man’s sacrifice go to waste!”

That was exactly the problem. Ace glanced back at his brother. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” He turned back to the horde of marines closing in on Whitebeard, the heat of his own flames swirling around his fist. It would have to be enough.

“Out of the way!” His hiken tore through their ranks like a torrent. As the flames died down, so did he, dropping to his knees and bowing his forehead nearly to the ground. Tears built in his eyes and he squeezed them shut.

Somehow, impossibly, Whitebeard’s words carried across the distance between them. “I have little use for soft words…but tell me one thing, Ace.” The tears threatened to break through. “Was I good father?”

The damn broke. “Of course!” he cried, his whole body shaking as his voice cracked.

Whitebeard just laughed. Ace, bowing even lower, swallowed and climbed back to his feet, finally heeding Jinbe’s order to get to the front, only for a new voice to cut through all the noise.

“You free Ace and then turn tail and run, huh? The Whitebeard Pirates are a pack of cowards.” Time slowed. “But considering who your leader is, that’s no surprise! After all, Whitebeard is nothing but a loser from a bygone era!”

And suddenly, he wasn’t heeding Jinbe at all. Rage flared high in his chest and his tears burned up. He turned to face the admiral—

But Akainu wasn’t there. Uncomprehending, Ace stared at the tropical forest where Marineford had been. Five distant peaks stretched into the sky like fingers, but there were no buildings, no fortifications. Instead of walls bearing down, palm fronds rustled in the calm breeze while waves gently rolled onto shore behind him.

Even the air had changed. There was no smoke, no gunpowder, only salt. The fallen marines and pirates were gone. He turned around again, but Luffy and all of his crewmates were gone too. No ships sat on the glimmering waves. No ice held fast the sea.

“P-Pops?” His voice sounded strange to his ears. The breeze came again. A coconut broke free and tumbled the long way to the ground, only for it to get stuck in the sand. “Luffy?”

Another spin didn’t change anything. There was no one around. The sun wasn’t even in the right place. It hung high in the sky, dead at its zenith.

His balance rocked and he sank to his knees. Was this a joke? A Devil Fruit? He brought his arms up to hug himself, only to notice something odd about his left. There was no ink in his skin; his ASCE tattoo had disappeared. Yanking off the tank top that had materialized on his torso and tossing it aside, he craned his neck, fingers pulling on his skin to bring more of it into view, but no matter how he looked—over his left shoulder, over his right shoulder, around his sides—his Whitebeard tattoo was nowhere in sight. It was like it had never been there at all. Even his necklace was gone.

He held out his shaking hands, only then realizing just how small they were. His gaze drifted back to the trees. Were they really that big, or was he…

He was. Shaking harder, he tried to summon some fire, any fire, but nothing happened. There was no response at all. When he dug his nails into his palms, though he could feel it just fine. He could feel everything—the breeze tousling his hair, the sand shifting under his feet, the sun warming his skin. The odds that this was a dream or a nightmare were dwindling with every second that Ace spent hoping this wasn’t real.

Something crashed through the underbrush just past the tree line. Ace froze, then scooped up his shirt and gave chase. Branches lashed at his skin, but even though he hadn’t been this small in years, he still remembered all those days crashing around Goa Island. This place didn’t hold a candle to those wild forests.

The shadow darted left. Ace hooked a hand around a tree’s narrow trunk and swung after it, but he overestimated his reach and fell comically short. He tumbled to a stop, backside stinging, pride bruised.

As he raised his eyes from the ground, he met the gaze of a wild boar. It blinked at him, then, with a huff and a snort, turned and walked away.

That was what he’d been chasing? Ace let his head fall and scrubbed a hand through his hair. What was going on?

“And why am I a kid?” he mumbled. Sure enough, his voice came out way higher pitched than he was used to. Letting his hand fall, he tipped onto his back and stared up through the canopy. He hoped Luffy was okay. His sworn family, too. If they’d come all that way to save him only for him to disappear in the middle of it…Well, Pops would probably keep everyone in line. Marco, too.

He squinted as the sun came out from behind a cloud. What did he know? He was a kid again, for some reason. He was on some island he’d never seen before, for some reason. And, of course, he didn’t have his powers anymore, for some reason. The strategy he’d used to escape that island with Deuce wouldn’t fly here.

As the edge of another cloud took the edge off the sun’s glare, Ace’s skyward gaze fell on the mountains punching over the horizon.

Any kind of vantage point was better than nothing, right? At least he could see if there were any other islands nearby. If this was an archipelago, there were probably people on one of them, and where there were people there were ships.

Getting to the mountain was the easy part. As small as he was, and without being able to rocket himself upwards with his devil fruit, he found himself struggling to actually get up the mountain. Strength wasn’t the problem, but something as simple as a handhold being a couple feet out of reach was enough to stymie him until he found another way up.

By the time he got to the top, he was sweaty, dirty, and tired. He’d scraped his knees and bloodied his fingers before he’d realized that he could still use haki to protect himself from the damage he’d been able to ignore as a logia user.

He sat down hard, drawing in deep breaths. That had unequivocally sucked, but at least he was at the top now. He’d picked the shortest and closest mountain, figuring that anything out of sight from its peak would be out of his reach anyway. Once he had his breath back, he pushed himself to his feet and peered out over the ocean. The wind was much harsher up here, and he had to use a hand to shade his eyes from the sun. The light bouncing off the cresting waves was still bright enough to hurt.

No matter how long he looked, he only saw those waves. It was ocean as far as the eye could see. No other islands, no chain, and no people. Even though he’d kind of expected it, frustration still curled his lips into a frustrated scowl.

What was the point? Why was he here?

Releasing his irritation in a huff, he turned to start the long climb down. It would probably be easier than coming up, since he could use his haki to absorb some of the longer drops from ledge to ledge.

A blurry smudge near the horizon gave him pause. He stopped and peered out at it. Was it a cloud? No, it was getting closer. It was on the water.

His heart lifted. It was a ship.

He threw caution to the wind as he scrambled down the mountainside. His rushed haki didn’t save him from everything, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins numbed the pain. He landed hard on the forest floor, rolled to his feet, and then tore through the trees. He needed to give that ship a reason to stop at this island in case it was just sailing by. A kid waving from the beach would catch anyone’s eye, right?

Panting, bruised, and bleeding, he broke through the tree line, stumbled on the sand, and limped up to the water’s edge.

“Hey,” he croaked at the approaching ship. “Hey!”

He drew breath to yell a third time, but as he did, the wind changed. The ship’s crimson sails filled out, its flags snapped out horizontal, and Ace got a good look at the symbol emblazoned upon them all. His voice died.

A mustached skull and crossbones.

The Roger Pirates.

[dragonsateyourtoast]

Special thanks to @owl-in-a-top-hat for their support of social justice! They requested something from the Calliope's Tale universe, and I am happy to oblige. Sorry this took so long - it got a little lengthy, haha! And then I had to rewrite the entire end of it because tumblr decided to delete my edits.

-

Her name was Miyei, and she was the queen of the sea.

No nation could capture her. No navy could break her fleet's formation. There was no ship upon the seas of the world that could - or would - best her.

This was in the old days, before the Midnight Sun and Calliope, before the Crown and their vile trade, before even Buroni Hakir and its law of fealty. This was when those that could conquer the waves were considered strong as the gods themselves, able to tame the water beneath and the wind about.

Her name was Miyei.

A fleet of five hundred ships, she had. A fleet that no coastal village could stand up against. No port could deny them. They could blockade a nation if they wanted, and vanish into the Topaz Islands the next day, invisible amongst the thousands of tiny stones jutting from the sea, the coral reefs that lurked beneath them. The Islands belonged to Miyei and her fleet, and everyone knew it. No one could navigate it like she did. No one had ever mapped its intricate formations.

Inside the islands, Miyei was safe. Until she wasn't.

Perhaps it was her hubris and disrespect that brought Kulari's wrath down upon them, or perhaps it was just chance that coaxed a hurricane from the southeastern waters and sent it roaring to the coast in a day and a half. Whatever the truth, even Miyei's seers did not sense its approach, not until it was too late. The hurricane burst over the Islands like an angry god, ripping the trees from their stones and ripping the fleet apart. She mobilized them as soon as it appeared on the horizon, but they weren't fast enough. Perhaps half the fleet escaped. The other half was too slow to run, or they thought the Islands would shelter them. That was not true - the Islands simply gave the storm something to batter them against.

Miyei's flagship, the Blue Bone, was one of the ones caught behind. When the hurricane came, it tore her ship to shreds beneath her and threw her into the ocean like a ragdoll.

This is it, Miyei realized, as she saw the stormlight fading above her, the water dragging her down. I will be no more.

To her surprise, she awoke some time later, laying atop a flat piece of wood in the water. When she scrubbed the salt from her stinging eyes, she realized she was afloat on half of a ship's deck, in the calm, cloudy blue water of the Islands. She didn't try to stand, just squinted around at the world.

There was something watching her at the edge of the deck.

Miyei scrambled back from a creature with eyes so dark brown they were almost black and skin almost as dark as its eyes, head resting on its crossed forearms. "Stay back!" she shrieked, grabbing for something, anything - a piece of metal tied to the deck, anything. She held it out in front of her like a sword, shaking hands pointing the sharp tip towards the creature.

She'd seen merids before. But never this close. "Stay away from me!" she shouted, and the merid, finally, slid backwards into the water and disappeared.

Miyei took stock of her surroundings. Ship deck, metal piece, and a few of the islands in sight. But she didn't have any way to paddle her raft to them, and she didn't know if she would be able to swim all the way to one of the nearer blots of rock. For several hours, she tried to construct something, all the while well aware of the blistering heat of the sun and the lack of water.

Towards midday she sat down. "I am going to die here," she murmured, and wondered if she ought to just let Zzoriel take her now for the reef.

A laugh came from beside her. She sat upright, eyes wide, and saw again the merid beside her. "Stay-" she started, but the merid interrupted her by pulling a parrotfish out of the water and tossing it onto the deck.

The merid - mermaid, from the looks of it - just watched as Miyei carefully stole forward and touched the fish. It was dead, freshly so. "I..." Merids couldn't speak; that was ridiculous. Still... "Is this... a gift?"

"Is it?" The mermaid said, and disappeared again.

Stunned, Miyei sat down hard on the salt-crusted wood. Xikaal grant me the breath in my body and salt in my tears, what? she thought. But... I've never heard a merid speak before! They, they can't...

No. Now was not the time for pondering. She didn't have a fire to cook it with, but a fish was a fish, and the one thing that hasn't been torn from her in the hurricane was her knife, a coral-handled iron blade that gleamed bright silver in the sun. She stripped as much flesh from the fish as she could and savored it.

By the evening, she still hadn’t found a way to get herself to the nearest island in the chain. She didn’t even know where in the chain she was, though she had a vague idea - she knew the shapes of individual rocks poking above the water. But... she couldn’t reach them.

At nightfall, she waited to see if the mermaid would come back. When she spotted a flash of brown under the water, she went still and silent, until the mermaid’s dark head poked up above the swell.

“Listen,” Miyei said, speaking quickly in case she darted off again. “I am a pirate queen. Anything you want, I can give to you, if you get me back to the islands.”

“A queen,” the mermaid scoffed. “Really? With what nation?”

She can speak! She can really speak! Where did she learn?! Never mind, that doesn’t matter. “I’m powerful enough to build my fleet back up if I can get to an island with enough wood and sticks to build a raft back to one of my strongholds.”

The mermaid watched, leaning on the edge of the raft. It tipped perilously; Miyei swayed to keep her balance. “Sure,” the mermaid drawled. “Whatever.”

And she was gone. Miyei sat down again, frustrated, but she didn’t come back that night.

The pattern repeated the next day. The mermaid gave her a fish; Miyei tried in vain to make some kind of sail, or paddle or something that could get her moving. But one of the things that made the Topaz Islands hers was her wind-magic sailors, the ones that could power the ships through this unnaturally calm area, usually so untouched by Kulari’s breath. There was no breeze to sail by.

That night, the mermaid came back. “You must take me to an island,” Miyei ordered her, rage bubbling in her chest. “You must!”

“Or what?” the mermaid asked. “You’ll kill me? Out here, it’s you who’s in danger. I’m doing fine.”

Miyei seethed, but she was right. “You will take me to one of my strongholds, or I will kill you,” she snapped.

The mermaid stared at her, then shrugged and slid under the water. Miyei this time charged forwards to the edge of the raft, that sharp piece of metal in her hand, and stabbed it down into the water. Nothing. Of course not.

Then the mermaid’s hand closed around the metal and tugged hard, and Miyei overbalanced and was dragged into the sea. The water was cool to the touch, and she automatically shut her mouth and held her breath, trying to right herself - but strong hands grabbed onto her and held her in place, one over her mouth, one around her torso and arms, locking them down. The mermaid was behind her. Miyei knew instantly that she could not escape, but she struggled anyway.

“You’re foolish,” the mermaid told her, voice clear in the water, somehow. She just held Miyei, below the surface. Miyei knew she could hold her breath for four minutes, but she hadn’t been prepared, and she knew the merid could out last her. “Do you want to stay down here with me? Is that it?”

No! Miyei struggled, shaking her head.

“Then get out of my ocean.” The mermaid released her. Miyei flailed, then kicked upwards until she broke the surface, gasping for breath, and pulled herself back up onto the wooden raft.

The next day, at midmorning, she sat down on the planks and called out, “What are you doing?”

No answer. Miyei narrowed her eyes. “I know you can hear me,” she shouted, voice ringing over the waves. “What’s your plot, here? Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”

The mermaid surfaced next to the ship and leaned on it again. “I want you to stop ruining my islands,” she said, conversationally. “You have cannons and swords. My people do not, except of ocean glass and stone and coral. We can’t beat you in a fight. So we’re forced to negotiate with you, except you people won’t listen unless we make you listen. It’s an opportunity.” She shrugged.

Miyei glared at her. “Well, fine, you have my attention,” she snapped.

“Good. Promise to leave the islands alone forever, and I’ll take you to a stronghold. Then you can clear your people out and leave.”

That... was absurd. But Miyei knew she wouldn’t be getting out unless she did this. Besides, she could just lie. “Deal,” she said.

“That was surprisingly easy,” the mermaid said, watching her face. “Too easy. You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not!”

“And there, too.” The mermaid shook her head. “That’s not a deal if you mean to break it. You just want to get back up on a ship where you’re safe away from me, and then you’ll continue parading around. Well, I’ll tell you this: we asked Kulari for help once, and we can do it again. If she gets tired of helping us, she’ll bother Athu about it. Then what? Then what happens to you, pirate queen?”

Miyei glowered at her. “I can’t leave the Islands,” she said. “They’re where my fleet needs to hide. It’s where we live.”

“I can tell you right now, we were here first,” the mermaid said, shaking her head. “We were here first, and we don’t care for you moving in and saying it’s yours.”

“I can’t just make them leave!”

“Yes, you can. You made them come here. You can make them leave here.”

“It’s not that simple!” Why am I even entertaining this thought? This creature wants me to destroy my entire empire! “You can’t just make people leave.”

“Well, I hope you figure out a way to do that,” the mermaid said. “When you do, I’ll be ready to tow you back to a stronghold, so you can enact your plan. Good luck.” And she disappeared again.

Miyei stamped her foot on the deck and swore several times, loudly. Curse this stupid merid! Curse that stupid storm! None of this was - none of this should have happened! Wretched, horrible merids, lurking underneath the waves and causing problems and now trying to take her Islands from her! No - she couldn’t. She couldn’t leave. She’d just have to - she’d just have to lie better.

She waited several hours, then called out again. “Fine,” she snarled. “I hate it. And I hate you. But I like living better. Do you hear me? I’ll adhere to your horrible conditions if you’ll only let me go!”

A disturbance in the water. Miyei strode over to the edge of the raft and stared down into the water. “Do you hear me?” she again shouted.

A hand shot out and clasped around her ankle, and with a shriek, Miyei was again dragged down into the water. She clawed at the boards, but all she did was get a splinter in one hand before she was dragged into the water.

The mermaid stared at her, holding her by the shoulder. “You just cannot bring yourself to be a good person,” she said, sounding irritated. “So I’ll have to force you to be one. I was really hoping maybe you’d just have the decency to listen and realize there are real people you’ve invaded here, but I should have known from your past habits that you’re not capable of such a thing, so I’ll have to play tour guide and hope my land can speak for itself. You disgust me.” With that, she shook her hair out of her face and sang out a few sharp, clear notes that made Miyei’s vision blur and go black. She felt her body involuntarily breathe in and shrieked - this creature was trying to drown her! - but the water just felt like thick, humid air, rushing into her lungs, and out again, taking her air bubbles with it. It stung, and hurt in her throat and nose, but after a few moments, she was forced to accept that it wasn’t killing her.

The mermaid was watching her when she opened her eyes. “If you climb out of the water, you’ll drown,” the merid said casually. “So I really wouldn’t recommend trying to get away.”

If it had been humans she’d been negotiating with, Miyei would’ve tried to escape. But this was a merid. And she’d done something to Miyei, something magical, and there was no way Miyei could count on her magic not killing her if she tried to break free. So she glowered at her and said nothing.

“Good! Great. Now, come on.” The mermaid grabbed hold of Miyei’s wrist and immediately towed her away from the raft.

There was so much more beneath the Islands than she’d realized. Miyei could swim, of course, and was familiar with reefs, but she’d never been one to go exploring around in them like some folks did. The seabed here went deeper than she expected in caves and crevasses, and the coral covered secret clearings of white sand and green seagrass. Her vision was unexpectedly clear down here, peering through the water, and the sunlight that reached down showed an extraordinary number of fish and corals hiding on and in the rocks.

But more impressive than that were the merids. Miyei had rarely ever seen a merid in the Topaz Islands - she’d assumed they were too shallow for them. But here, she saw them everywhere. Watching from behind rocky outcroppings, cloaked in the green sea-grass sprouting from the sand beds, tucked underneath a spur of coral just peering out at her. They all stared at her, and each had an expression of mixed curiosity and... hatred?

Why do they look at me like that?

“They hate you because they were here first, and you and your fleet moved in and started destroying everything,” the mermaid told her, conversationally. “You drop your anchors on our coral. You catch all the fish and leave none for us. You destroy things we create without even noticing, and you do not listen to us. These are where we raise our children. And you just sail on in and wreck the place. Can you see why we have a problem?”

Miyei tried to speak. To her surprise, she could, though it was hard, forcing water sluggishly through her throat. Her lungs weren’t used to this kind of effort. “Why... didn’t you mention this... before?”

“You don’t think we tried?” the mermaid snapped. “We tried! But nobody listens to sea monsters. I had to learn your horrible language in order to even get you to listen.”

“You could’ve... talked to us before.”

“No, I couldn’t have. You would’ve captured me in a net and put me in a tank for entertainment. Absolutely not.”

That... may have been true. Miyei winced. You don’t use people for entertainment. But I didn’t know they were people, she thought, and grimaced, and said nothing.

“You look uncomfortable,” the mermaid said, with a kind of grim satisfaction. “Good! You should be.”

She continued to drag Miyei after her, downwards, towards a large hollow in the rocks. It led to a soft sandy area, where several mer-matrons carefully watched a few chubby, awkward-looking blobs go floating about. Baby mermaids, Miyei realized, staring at them. They were... very strange looking. Weirdly similar to human children, except for the gills and the heavy, fleshy tail.

“Oh, yes, we have children,” the mermaid commented. “I know, astonishing. It’s almost like we’re people who come from somewhere.”

“I get it,” Miyei grumbled. “I get it.”

“No, you don’t.” The mermaid turned, staring at her. “You don’t get it. We live here. You tried to steal our home from us, and you’ve been succeeding this whole time. You need to leave here.“

“But where... do we go?” Miyei asked.

“That,” the mermaid sniffed, “is not my problem. There are other islands to live on that don’t have our ancestral birthing grounds underneath them. Go use those.”

The mer-matrons had gathered together in a little group, warily watching Miyei and the mermaid. The mermaid sighed and called out something in a searing, hissing language that made Miyei’s ears hurt; the mer-matrons responded, their voices deeper and stronger, and stayed where they were.

“What’s your name?” Miyei asked.

“Ah, finally!” The mermaid turned back to her. “Finally you ask! I was really wondering how long it would take you to realize I probably have a name.”

“I get it, alright?” Miyei snapped. “There’s no reason to keep on me like this. I get it!”

The mermaid glared at her. “You couldn’t pronounce my name if you tried,” she snapped. “It’s Skreshkaiurhsra. You can call me... let’s go with Resh.”

Miyei took a deep breath (of... water. It still unnerved her) and let it out. He crew on the Blue Bone answered to her because she was just and fair to them, and because she punished anyone who broke her rules. If - if - she got out of this mess, she knew, she’d have to adhere to the merids’ demands, or face the same punishment.

And... she didn’t realize there were kids down here. Children.

“Resh,” she said. “Right. I’m Miyei. So to get home, what do you need me to do?”

-

Resh wouldn’t let her go that easily. She casually assured Miyei that the magic wouldn’t wear off any time soon and told her to help out. The storm had ripped some of the reef apart - the merids were trying to repair it as best as they could.

It wasn’t natural, Miyei was told. The reef was cultivated, kept at its most beautiful and healthy, by the merids who lived here. Some were here all year round to maintain it, and others came and went, coming here to give birth to their children, leaving later once they were grown. “Like turtles,” she said, “but, you know, awake in the thoughts.”

Awake in the thoughts. The thing that Miyei had thought merids weren’t.

It was easier to lift stones and coral underwater, but Miyei wasn’t as quick swimming as the merids were. A single flick of their tails, and they were gone; she had to drag herself through the water. She didn’t belong here, and it was obvious. For days, she struggled to keep up with the merids, doing what they asked of her - she had no choice! And by the end of a week, the younger mermaids (not the babies, but the children) were brave enough to whirl around her, taunting her in their weird language.

“Go away,” she snarled at them, a time or two, feeling her face flush. She didn’t like being made fun of.

“Aww, they’re having fun,” Resh said, appearing behind her. “They aren’t faster than the adults. Let them mock you.”

“Why?!”

“Because they’re children, and they’re having fun,” Resh replied. “Honestly. Were you ever a child, or were you born grumpy?”

Miyei was worried about her fleet. The Blue Bone had been destroyed, she knew, and half her fleet with it. Where were they now? Had they chosen a new captain, a new queen? Would they try to find her? Or would they assume she was gone? Where was her life now, all remnants of it sunk beneath the waves? And myself with it, she thought, looking up to the glittering surface far above. I’m down here, too.

No one came looking for her. It was as if the world above the surface ceased to exist. Everything was the ocean: the coral, the merids, the water that she breathed. Everything. The ocean became the only thing that mattered. Two weeks. Three. A month. Two months.

The merids stopped being so afraid and wary of her, after a time. She’d long since lost that piece of metal, and she didn’t use her knife as a weapon - it was a tool, nothing more. They even seemed to be okay with her presence around. Resh almost seemed to like her.

And then the storm.

It was sudden. The first news they got of it was a crack of thunder over the ocean miles away that they could hear, even from the caverns. All the merids started, and looked up; Miyei, who’d picked up a little bit of their language, could understand what they were saying. A storm? Approaching? They hadn’t thought there would be one. Merids could feel when storms came. But they hadn’t felt this one.

She swam out of the cavern and found Resh as quickly as possible. “There’s a storm coming,” she told the mermaid, as if she didn’t know.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Resh said, but her face was more worried than irritated. “That shouldn’t happen. And we didn’t call that.”

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know. Maybe some of your old friends, who knows.”

The storm came. Miyei had never seen a storm from below before. She thought that perhaps the wind would be dulled underwater, that it would simply be a lovely light-show. She couldn’t have been more wrong. The water became her enemy, roaring, twisting, tearing sand and plants up from the seabed. Fish hid inside the rocks and corals, but even those weren’t safe. The water ripped at the reef like a sea serpent.

Resh hauled boulders in front of a cavern where several merid families had fled for refuge. "Bring more!" she bellowed when she saw Miyei. "Seal it up, keep them safe!"

"I will," Miyei called back, and then the storm ripped away any further words she could have said. She had a split second to think before a wave came roaring in. A whirl of water caught a rock and sent it hurtling away towards the mermaid.

The last thing Miyei remembered was trying to warn her. "Resh!" She remembered shouting, and then there was water, and sound, and -

-

Miyei woke on the shore. Wet sand on her cheeks. Air blowing above her. When she raised herself up, she was seized by a fit of coughing and choking; water in her lungs trying to escape, to be replaced with air. Air. I’m alive. I’m on land.

There were voices in the distance. Miyei dragged herself to her knees - she was so heavy, so clumsy here! - and spat up water. It didn’t sting like she thought it would.

Voices drew closer, and Miyei sat back on her heels and turned her face to the sun. She breathed in, deep - deeper than she should have. The air felt like nothing. She breathed too much, and it sent her coughing again.

By the time she recovered, she was surrounded by people. “Queen!” someone shouted. “Queen, Kulari’s breath, you’re alive!“

Those must be from her fleet. Her crew. The ones that made it out before the storm. She tried to breathe lightly - had it always been this easy? No, she was simply used to the water, which resisted her, which supported her, not this place of air and dead sound where she had to drag herself along through nothing - and looked at them.

“Queen,” one of them started, and then the words died in their mouth. They stared at her, eyes wide, faces pale. Miyei paused. Something was wrong. She raised a hand to her face.

She hadn’t noticed it before, not with how heavy she felt freed from the tides, but there was a strange weight to her head. She ran her hand along her face, her cheeks. There was a strange, smooth ridge of hard bone rising from her cheeks, sweeping up above her ears. There, again, alongside her eyebrows - and from her forehead as well.

Miyei staggered to her feet and turned towards the nearest sailor. In one swift movement she lunged forward and grabbed for the hilt of his blade, unsheathing it fully. He yelped and leaped back, but she only raised the sword and stared into the mirror-bright blade.

Coral. It was coral. It split from beneath her skin and surrounded her face like a portrait frame, or a halo, hanging about her head. It was oddly smooth for coral, and solid, but there was no mistaking that intricate patterning or that dull olive green color.

Miyei stared for a moment longer, then dropped her hand and threw the blade into the wet sand. It stuck point-first and hilt-up, quivering where it landed. “Gather everyone,” she rasped, her voice rough with salt and sand. “Every ship. We empty the strongholds. No one remains in the Islands after three days’ time.”

“What?” said one pirate, staring. “Queen, we can’t -”

“We can,” she interrupted him, a low growl. “Every person here leaves. Do you understand me?”

“Queen,” someone started, and she whirled to face them, her black hair flying around her. Sand sprayed onto the ground. The sailor went quiet.

“Good,” she said. “Let’s go. I need a new ship.”

Miyei looked to the water. It glittered so bright it nearly blinded her, but she swore for a moment she caught sight of a dark-haired head vanishing between one swell-peak and the next.

-

The Topaz Islands are a sacred place. They are holy by all of the goddesses of the sea, protected by a living fleet that has held its vow for thousands of years. No nation can capture them. No fleet can break through their waters. There is no ship upon the sea that may enter them and live to tell the tale.

The fleet that guards them is eternal, and its captain, they say, has been alive since its founding. They say that instead of blood she has saltwater and kelp-fiber. They say that she speaks the merids’ tongue. They say that if you intrude into the place she has given her soul to protect, that even Kulari’s blessing could not protect you from her retribution.

Her name is Miyei, and she is the queen of nothing, for the sea itself needs no crown.

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 2

Stan’s head was full of cotton. He mumbled and buried his face into his pillow, wishing he could block out the world. Had he been hit in the head during gym class? He couldn’t remember, but that might explain the fuzziness in his brain and why his arms felt all weak and noodly.

Someone was talking to him, probably Ford, trying to get him up for school. Ew, school. Did he have a test today? Stan could have sworn there was one coming up but he never really paid attention to when. Not like studying would change his score much anyway. He had to squint to read the questions and it took him way longer than everyone else to answer anything at all. Pa said it was because he was stupid.

He didn’t want to go to school today. His head was all stuffy and he was tired. Was he sick? If he was sick maybe Pa would let him stay home. It was Ford’s schooling he cared about anyway.

But no, that would leave Ford alone all day! He couldn’t leave his brother with that stupid Crampelter. Ford tried to hide how the other kids picked on him when Stan wasn’t there, but Stan wasn’t a total idiot. He knew it got worse when he wasn’t by his brother’s side, fists clenched and rearing for a fight. They would take advantage of his absence to mess with his brother.

No, he’d have to go to school, for Sixer. Filled with indignation on the part of his brother Stan lifted his face from his pillow-

And froze.

He wasn’t in his room, on the bottom bunk while Ford leaned over from the top bunk to talk to him. He wasn’t in his room at all.

The bed he was on was big and messy with slightly grubby sheets. It sat in a weird room that looked like it was part of a log cabin, rife with random objects that sat on boxes or desks or were pinned to a corkboard on the wall. And there was someone standing over him.

Stan yelped and threw himself away from the reaching hand, only to topple off the bed and let out a pained cry when his elbows scraped the wooden floor. The person rushed around towards him. Heart pounding, Stan rolled under the bed and curled up as far in as he could get.

It was cold down here, and dusty, spider webs crisscrossing the beams above his head. Stan hugged his knees and gasped for breath.

Where the heck was he? Who was this guy? Where were Ford, and Ma, and his room and his house?

“Stanley?” A voice called. Deep and male and it sounded like Pa but not quite. Stan would have taken being alone with Pa over this. There was rustling as the person knelt next to the bed. Stan whimpered and curled up tighter. Maybe if he stayed still and very quiet, they would go away.

A man’s face peered into the shadows. His glasses reflected the light but – there was something familiar about those brown curls, the shape of his mouth, the concerned tilt of his brows.

“Ford?” Stan blurted. Ford – because it was Ford, wasn’t it, even though he was grown up? – nodded, seemingly at a loss for what to do. They sat there for a moment before Ford reached a hand towards him.

It was probably to help him out from under the bed, but Stanley took the chance to count his fingers. One, two, three, four, five, six. Yep, this was Ford alright. He grabbed the huge hand and crawled out of the dusty shadows.

Ford was huge. He looked like an adult, Stan realized as he shook dust from his clothes and sneezed. He looked like Pa, but without the sunglasses and the scowl and the grey hair.

“What happened to you?” Stan demanded. “You’re all – big.”

Ford’s eyes widened slightly. He hadn’t made a move to stand up from where he was kneeling. To be honest, Stan didn’t want him to stand up – he didn’t like the idea of his brother looming over him.

“You don’t remember?” Ford’s voice was deeper than he was used to. It still sounded like a nerd’s voice, though, so that was something. Stan frowned.

“Remember what? This isn’t home. Where are we? And you – you’re old. What’s going on?”

Ford ran a hand across his face and groaned. “Okay. This is fine. So you reverted to a child in memories as well. Just – great.”

And then he stood up and started walking. Stan trailed after his brother as he sat at a desk and started writing in a big book. Stan wasn’t tall enough to see what he was writing.

“Uh, Ford?”

No answer. Stan stood there awkwardly while Ford scratched away in his book. He really wasn’t liking how – how weird his brother was being. He felt like he’d missed something big. But with the way Ford was acting Stan was nervous to ask, and that made him even more worried. Ford had never been this distant before.

“I called you here.” Ford said suddenly, making Stan jump. The nerd still wasn’t looking up from his book. “I needed your help hiding my journals. You came to my house. Do you remember that?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” A thought struck Stan and he blinked. “Wait, are we in the future?”

“In a manner of speaking, you are.” Ford sighed. “Listen carefully, Stanley. I asked you to come, so you could take my journal far away and hide it.”

“Why?”

“It contains very dangerous information. I have to keep it out of the wrong hands.”

“Oh, okay.” Yeah, that made sense. That kind of stuff was always happening in the new Sci-Fi show Ford loved. Of course, that was a show, but they’d seen weird things before. Like the Jersey Devil! Plus, if anyone was gonna write something epic and powerful and smart, it would be Ford.

His brother sent him an odd look out of the corner of his eye but continued.

“When you got here – you were my age then – we got into an argument. You knocked into one of my samples and got it all over you. Then you turned into – this. A younger version of yourself.”

Stan blinked. “I was old?”

“We’re twenty seven, Stanley ­– or at least I am. I was investigating water from the spring of youth, but I only came across it recently so I haven’t had time to work out how to undo its effects. I’ll have to get a new sample to experiment on, since you destroyed the only one I had.”

Destroyed? Stan rubbed the back of his neck, shame twisting in his stomach. “Aw man, bro, sorry I broke your thing.”

Ford stiffened. Stan rushed to continue, afraid he’d said something wrong.

“But you can – can get a new one, right? And I can help. And then we can do the thing you wanted, hide the book, right? It’ll be like burying pirate treasure! Oh! If this is the future, did we get the Stan O’ War fixed?” He vibrated with excitement. “Is she seaworthy? Do we go sailing?”

“I’m trying to write, Stanley.” Ford said stiffly, coldly. He’d never used that voice with Stan before. It was unnerving. “Why don’t you go downstairs and get something to eat?”

“Uh… okay. Sure.” Stan mumbled, subdued. Maybe the Stan O’ War could wait.

For the first time he noticed the state of his clothes – well, cloth, since there was only one piece – a too-big shirt that hung off him like a huge smock. He considered asking for a change of clothes. But if he used to be a grownup, they would probably only have grownup clothes. Plus, Ford seemed pretty upset and Stan didn’t want to bother him.

So he held his tongue and wandered out of the room, into the rest of the house. It was big, and super messy. Stan passed what looked like a – a triangle shine? – as he explored a room that may have been a lounge. He poked his tongue out at it. The grumble of his stomach seemed very loud in the quiet. Ford was right, he hadn’t even realized he was hungry!

Eventually he found the kitchen. An investigation of the fridge showed it was empty except a quarter-full jar of peanut butter. Well, better than nothing. Stan found a spoon among the dishes and shuffled over to the dingy table to eat. He had to brush a few papers away to make space.

Okay. So this was really weird. Definitely not scary though. Stan refused to be scared. Even if he desperately missed the security of home, of having his brother by his side-

But this Ford was his brother –  just a bit older. And wasn’t that good? Ford was older, he knew what was going on, he could fix it. Stan just had to wait for him to make things go back to normal. And wasn’t it so cool that his nerd brother would grow up to be a nerdy scientist? He couldn’t wait to go back home and tell his Ford the adventure he’d gone on.

Secure once again, Stan decided to investigate this weird place. His Ford would wanna ask a lot of questions about it, after all. He shoved a final spoon of peanut butter into his mouth and jumped up to explore.

There was so much weird stuff here! Stan had no idea what half of it did. Though, that was true of a lot of things. He peered into some kind of office room with a chalk circle on the floor and candles scattered around, before deciding Ford probably wouldn’t like it if he messed with his stuff.

There was a door that, once opened, showed a dark, yawning staircase stretching out below. Stan peered around for a light switch. Finding none, he shrugged to himself and decided to brave it.

The stairs seemed to go on forever. Stan’s breathing and the tap-tap-tap of his footsteps seemed uncomfortably loud in the enclosed space. A flickering bluish light lit up whatever was below. Stan squinted to try and figure out what it was.

He soon found out, however, when he ended up in some huge lab. The majority of the space was taken up by some gigantic structure, a big circle like the kind you’d blow bubbles with but surrounded with technology junk. It looked like something straight out of Star Trek!

“Whoa.”

Stan walked over to a console to stare at all the buttons. Did Ford know how to use this thing? Did Ford build it? Jeez, he’d always known Ford was the smart twin but this was epic. And if Ford could build this thing, between the two of them the Stan O’ War was gonna be the greatest ship ever!

Stan paused. He knew he really shouldn’t be messing with Ford’s stuff, but that big red button was tempting him. Surely it couldn’t hurt to find out what this thing could do?

Stanley bit his lip, tossing up his options. He was spared from having to make a decision by stomping footsteps and a shout.

“Stanley!”

__________________________________________________________

In hindsight, letting a child roam freely around a house that doubled as a lab and testing site was… not the smartest move to make. In Ford’s defence he had been distracted when he suggested it. Stan had started talking about breaking projects, and that stupid boat, and it took every iota of Ford’s self-control to not snap and yell at him.

He’s a child. He has no memories of what happened. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

After about twenty minutes of writing observations in his journal Ford had come to the conclusion that letting a child – even worse, Stanley – loose in this place could be dangerous. He closed his journal and descended to make sure he was staying out of trouble.

But Stanley wasn’t downstairs. He wasn’t anywhere Ford checked. With increasing distress Ford stuck his head outside to see if the child had ventured into the woods. No sign of him, and the thick layer of snow was untouched. But the only other place he could have gone was-

The lab.                                                                    

Ford cursed himself for not noticing that the door to the lab was hanging ajar. Stupid sleep deprivation! Ford stormed down the stairs, caught between fury and concern. What if Stan hurt himself?

When he reached the bottom, however, and found his brother staring at the portal’s controls, fury won out.

“Stanley!”

Stan snapped around guiltily. “Uh, hey, Ford-”

“What are you doing down here? This is my lab, it’s dangerous! You can’t touch anything!” Ford marched over and snatched his brother away from the controls. “What if you broke something? Or got hurt?”

Stan yelped. Ford tucked him under one arm and started back up the stairs, gritting his teeth.

“From now on you are not to come down here. Understood?”

“Mm hmm.” Stan mumbled. Once at the top of the stairs Ford placed him down to close and lock the door firmly. He turned back to Stan to continue the scolding, but… Stan looked like he was about to cry. His face was screwed up and he stared at the floor as if he could will away the tears that Ford could see gathering in his eyes.

A surge of guilt washed over Ford, which was ridiculous, because he had nothing to be guilty about. He sighed.

“Stanley, I…” What was there to say? “It’s late. I’ll set you up in the spare room.”

Stan sniffed and nodded.

  Luckily Stan had always been resilient, and he perked back up while Ford went about preparing the bed in the spare room. He hadn’t had visitors for so long that he’d started using it as a workbench.

This had been Fiddleford’s room, back when they had worked together. The thought of his old research assistant sent a spike of guilt through him. Yet another warning that he had ignored, and in the process he’d destroyed the one human friendship he had.

No, he didn’t have time to reminisce. Not with Stanley to deal with and the threat of Bill looming over him at any given time. Ford harshly shoved all thoughts of Fiddleford from his mind and threw a blanket over the bed. It wasn’t very thick but it would have to do.

He was lost in thought as he absently picked up his brother and placed him on the bed. There, problem solved. Ford had more important work to do. For starters, he had to figure out some way to get the unicorn hair he needed for a protective spell against Bill. Until he could put up the barrier it wouldn’t be safe to dismantle the portal, which meant Bill had a much better chance of figuring out how to get in and activate it.

He paused in the doorway to glance at his watch. What was the time, somewhere after midnight? Two-ish apparently. At daybreak he could try again to get the unicorn hair. But he also had to figure out how to cure Stan. Would it be better to leave that until after he had Bill-proofed his house? Stan would be in the way the whole time, but he would be less of an obstacle than he would be as an adult.

But then again, an adult Stan could drive away and be out of the equation entirely. While he was a child Ford was stuck with him. Also, adult Stan also might agree to take the journal when he found out that Ford had cured him. Yes, it was probably better to do that first-

“I can almost see yer ears smoking!”

The chirp made him jump. Ford whipped around to stare at Stanley, who was blinking at him from his spot on the bed.

“Ya were standing in the doorway looking blank for like, five minutes.” The child explained at Ford’s stare. “Watcha thinking about?”

Ford took a slow, steadying breath. “Truthfully? The situation I’m currently in. I have far too much on my plate, and very little time to deal with it.”

“Well, is there anything I can do?” Stan tipped his head. The action made him look rather like a puppy. Despite his tiredness and frustration, the sight made Ford’s mouth tip into a smile.

“I don’t suppose you can charm unicorns as well as you charm old people into giving you sweets?”

“Hey, I don’t make ‘em give me stuff, they just wanna! All I gotta do is play it up a bit.” Then Stan seemed to register the first statement. “Whoa, hold up. Did you say unicorns?”

“Yes, but believe me, they’re not quite as pleasant as the kind you’re imagining. And they very much dislike parting with their hair.” Ford’s lip curled. “Quite irritating, actually.”

“Where did you find unicorns?” Stan demanded excitedly, slipping off the bed to rush to Ford and grab his coat in chubby fists.

“The forest, of course. Gravity Falls is home to numerous creatures not found anywhere else in the world. Why do you think I moved here?” Ford couldn’t quite hold in a snort at the way his brother’s eyes sparkled. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen any gnomes already. They often sneak in to raid the pantry.”

“Are they here now? Can I see ‘em?” Stanley gasped out in a rush.

“No. I do have some sketches in my journal though…”

Stanley let out a whoop and darted past him. Ford watched him scramble up the stairs to where Ford’s room was. How did he… no, he’d woken up in Ford’s room, of course he knew where it was.

“Stanley!” Ford called after him. “Stan, you should be in bed!”

“I’m not tired!”

Oh, for the love of…

Ford sighed and followed, albeit at a slower pace. He had no idea how they’d had that much energy as children. It seemed boundless.

At any rate, he doubted Stanley would be getting to sleep any time soon, and he had to keep an eye on the child to make sure he didn’t get into any trouble. At least his presence shouldn’t hinder Ford too much. Stan could draw or look at pictures or whatever children did while Ford worked on finding a cure.

“FO-ORD!” Stanley yelled. “Come on, hurry up! You got so many books here! Are there mermaids in this weird place too? Oh my gosh there’s mermaids aren’t there? Which one’s your diary thing? I wanna SEE!”

“Coming.” Ford huffed out another sigh and picked up the pace.

[atinytokki]

Paradise

iv. The Pearl in the Oyster  

By the time San was seated in the boat with the wind on his face and the shores of his town on the horizon, he had overcome his shock at discovering a secret pirate refuge.

Jiyong and Mr. Shim had fussed over him and grilled him with questions after he was rescued, but from a combination of the fact that he wasn’t sure whether he had imagined the whole ordeal and the fact that he was terrified, he hadn’t given them much information.

“Please don’t tell my grandparents,” he suddenly begged as the Namhae docks came into view.

“San, you were lost in the caves for nearly an hour,” Mr. Shim argued as he adjusted the sails. “It would be irresponsible of me not to tell them.”

“But I’m not hurt!” San argued back, getting to his feet and swaying slightly with the momentum of the boat. “And they’ll only be angry at me for running away!”

Mr. Shim frowned at him, but he didn’t scold him again, so San took it as a sign to continue.

“Didn’t you ever wander off as a boy? You wouldn’t have wanted your parents to know, would you?”

“I did have my mischievous days,” the man admitted. “But I matured and stayed away from dangerous places until I could handle myself.”

He delivered this last line with a pointed glance, one that told San if he could shape up, he would be off the hook.

A smile grew on his face and he nodded eagerly.

“Alright,” Mr. Shim chuckled. “I was young once too, wasn’t I?”

San greeted the now familiar shores of his island with relief and helped to unload the boat until his grandparents appeared at the docks to collect him.

The old sailor reported that they had enjoyed a refreshing and uneventful time in the markets of Dalhae, true to his word. San waved goodbye to the two and flopped around in the back of the cart on the ride home.

Warm food in his belly and a gentle breeze  blowing through his window, San told Haneul of his adventures and organised her shells into a small wooden chest until Grandmother poked her head in and told them to go to bed.

Even as he stared into the fireplace and tried to fall asleep, the eyes of the pirate lingered in the back of his mind. 

Supposing San had gotten all the adventure that he needed, Grandfather put him to work in the carpentry shop the next morning and even more frequently after.

When he was out of the room, busy selling his wares in town, or asleep at the desk, San took it as an opportunity to stretch his sore leg and practice fighting invisible pirates in the carpentry shop unsupervised.

Of course, this resulted in the destruction of some of the carving displays and plank storage, so Grandfather passed him off to Grandmother while he cleaned up after him, and San was subject to quiet reading and a picnic on the beach for the afternoon.

For a boy with an active imagination, San’s life had become rather boring. Unless it was about pirates, it wasn’t interesting enough, so Grandmother in her indulgence gifted him a few naval history books in the hopes that he would be satiated. 

He was unsuccessful in discovering the identities of the pirates in the caves no matter how hard he researched, especially when all he had to go on was the fact that one had been sporting a peg leg (apparently a common occurrence among pirates) and the other had seemed... young. 

San had all but given up hope when one rainy day in late autumn, the familiar tapping sound of a peg leg resounded from the front path. 

His head shot up from where he had been in deep focus at his little desk, whittling a wooden ship (that Grandfather had discouraged, and didn’t need to know about) and he counted two seconds before the jangle of the bell rung out and the customer was on the doorstep, silhouetted by dripping rain that blinked silver in the lightning flash.

Suddenly, the stranger stepped closer and just like that, the fantasy was shattered. San didn’t recognise this man from the caves.

“Wh-Who are you?” He croaked out weakly, standing from his chair and watching the peg leg man intently. Pirate or no pirate, San was ready to defend the house from him if need be.

The man frowned and closed the door behind him, adjusting his satchel with an unreadable look in his eye. “I was informed you’d be expecting me.”

If they were expecting him, San wasn’t aware of the fact. It had only been three days since the magistrate had been over for dinner, and San’s grandparents didn’t invite guests that frequently. 

“Who are you, exactly?” He asked, trying to be polite, catching himself with a late bow.

“Oh, hello Dr. Hong!” 

Right on cue, Grandfather rushed out from the back room and came to shake hands with the man, whose large bag made a lot more sense now. 

A doctor.

San didn’t like doctors.

“I hope San didn’t let you stand out in the rain,” Grandfather was saying with a pointed glance that told San he was in trouble if he had.

“No, not at all,” Dr. Hong laughed as he was helped out of his coat. “The lad seemed wary, but I can see why.”

The doctor tapped his peg leg on the rug and San blushed at being called out. “I’ll tell you how I got it if you ask,” the man continued with a bright smile. “But first, I have a patient to attend to!”

Grandfather and the doctor hurried upstairs and left San to his own devices, wondering why a doctor had been called and quieting his intense curiosity about the peg leg as it began to grow again.

He finished the masts by the time Dr. Hong returned to the shop. Sensing the boy’s nervousness, the doctor quickly reassured him his visit was only a routine checkup.

“Haneul is doing well, all things considered,” he told him softly. “Though, you must always protect her and keep her healthy.”

San agreed in a heartbeat, not too naïve to forget why he was here on Namhae in the first place. 

Everything was for Haneul.

“Ah, yes, the leg,” the guest remembered just before leaving. 

San perked up and scooted closer to hear the tale. 

“It was back in my Navy days, before I picked up medicine,” he explained. “I was a gunner on one of those cargo transport ships, the Royal Longtail, back when the East Colonies were just starting out and the trade routes were being established. We were attacked by pirates on the trip back and I, an inexperienced soldier, was shot in the leg and carted to the infirmary for the rest of the battle. I thought for a few harrowing moments that I was on the brink of death, but somehow I was saved.”

“How?” San nearly burst out, leaning on the edge of his seat.

Dr. Hong displayed his peg leg again. “The surgeon chopped off my leg just above the knee and managed to stop the bleeding. That miracle— the one that saved my life— convinced me to switch to the field of surgery. It’s quite new and underdeveloped but as you can see, real results are happening!”

San smiled at the satisfying conclusion of the story and bid the doctor farewell.

He still didn’t like them as a rule, but he could make an exception for this one.  

Haneul claimed to be doing fine when San brought the evening meal up to her bedroom where she lay staring at the ceiling, but her skin was pale and clammy and from the way she was breathing he could tell she was anxious about something.

“Do you... want me to sit with you?” He asked timidly, unsure how to help once he’d set the plate on her bedside table and closed the window to shut out the breeze.

“No, just leave me alone,” his half-sister muttered, rolling over to face the wall and leaving San hurt and confused.

Without another word, he crept away and into his own room, tucking himself into bed. He knew not to take it personally, that sometimes she just got into moods like this when she was discouraged about her illness.

But it made San worry that the doctor hadn’t in fact told him everything.

Haneul appeared at breakfast but refused to play with him when he returned from school, in the few hours San had before he would be herded back into the carpentry shop.

It was disappointing but San took it as an opportunity to look for new friends, something he hadn’t put much effort into since arriving.

There were a couple of teenage girls with a five year old brother playing further down the beach on the rocks, the opposite way as Mr. Shim’s house, so San strolled over and introduced himself.

“I haven’t seen you before,” he admitted shyly. “Do you usually play further up the beach?”

“Yes,” the older of the two explained. “But today we’ve come here because of the construction.”

“Construction?” San asked, confused.

The girl pointed past the rooftops to the harbour where the masts craned like birds flocking along the shoreline. “The naval garrison. They’re finally building it.”

“It’s loud!” The little boy whined, crying when a particularly large swell washed him face-down into the sand. 

San giggled and helped him up, seamlessly joining in their hunt for oysters while they told him what the garrison in town was going to look like.

He couldn’t help but glance over the hill and wonder what it would mean for Namhae. The more Navy presence, the less likely pirates would appear. And the less likely the two from the Dalhae caves would appear.

As San cracked open an oyster and, to his amazement, found a lucky pearl, he decided maybe it was for the better.

He’d had his adventure- enough adventure for a lifetime. 

...

A/N:  Guess who finished her semester!!!!! It was a rough one tbh but now I can write unhindered so expect more from me soon, but in the meantime don't forget to rb and comment <3

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[girlofmanyfandoms]

A/n: Next chapter is out! This one has a lot of setting up of the future plot points, it’ll be fun if y’all can pinpoint it. If the next chapter takes too long, I’ll post more of “The Plot out of context,” if it’s wanted!

Key:

Tater - @a-lonely-tatertot

Lynn - @lesbilynnette

Gray - @silver-snow

Lilah - @tribblemakingalicorn

Cadence - me

Ivy - @imaramennoodle

Molly - @molly-sencen

Farris - @everyonehasthoughts

Speens - @an-absolute-travesty

Holes - @holesinmyfalseconfidence

Connor - @linhammon-roll-bromance101

Panda - @worldwidepandamonium

Meg - @ultralazycreatorfan

Word count: 2,740

Warnings: Nothing makes sense.

“Lynn, can you have the next shipment of the Gatorade sent to my address in Peru?”

“Farris, what did you do now?”

“Nothing!” They grinned nervously.

“I swear if you moved to Peru just so you could buy an alpaca, I will-”

“It’s not that, I swear! Well, not just that. Boss called and said I have to be at the excavation site by tomorrow, that it might be a big break.” Farris scoffed. “As if. Last time, the only thing I found with my metal detector was someone’s Betty Boop keychain.”

“Yeah, I can ship them there,” Lynn sighed, exhausted from a night of getting a deal with the investor and setting prices for the products. “And that’s crazy.”

“I know right?” Farris answered. “Betty Boop? When was this person born, the 1950s?”

“That’s not- yeah, you’re right, Farris.” Lynn changed her sentence halfway through. “Any word back from Panda?”

“Yeah, Panda got back to me. Said that her sign is a Scorpio.”

“What?”

“Exactly, who would’ve thought Panda was-”

“Farris, you were supposed to ask about the chain restaurant idea!” Lynn massaged her forehead. “Why did we agree to be partners?”

“Because I threatened to blackmail you,” they responded, taking a bite out of an apple. “And I did ask about that. The zodiac sign was probably the question I wrote on my arm so I wouldn’t forget.”

“And?”

“She said the chain restaurant idea is a good thing to look into, as soon as we can make a good menu, hire some staff, good prices, nice locations, accessibility, y’know, all that jazz.”

“Because that’s so simple.” Lynn sighed, shuffling through the paperwork that had accumulated within the past week. “Alright, tell you what, I’ll get an artist to make an ad, maybe a social networker, I’ll set up a blog and we get the word out. As soon as you get back from the gig, you call me, alright?”

“Yup,” they agreed. “Oh, and Connor just texted saying he needs your help. I told him to wait ‘til I got back so I could teach him how to properly rollerblade, but the kid’s a madlad.”

“Anything broken?”

“His sanity.”

“Farris.”

“And a lot of furniture.”

“Guess I’ll have to find out for myself, huh?”

“You sure will.”

“Alright, I’m checking in with the supplier. Talk later?”

“Cheerio, mate,” Farris grinned, saluting her before ending the call.

Lynn opened her laptop and emailed her supplier, who had requested to remain anonymous. This was fine though, identities shouldn’t be known when dealing with the black market and pyramid schemes. Lynn was fine with using her real name because of her position as co-founder of Forbidden Incorporated. If she was going to go deviant, she’ll be damned if she didn’t do it with style.

_________

Cadence’s phone buzzed, as an email from a client had just arrived.

“Forks do not work with ice cream,” Tater yelled for the umpteenth time.

Holes clutched their head in a mixture of disappointment and annoyance. “Why would you use a spoon? It’s not soup, you can’t just spoon it out!”

“Then pop it in the microwave for a few seconds, for fu-”

“Crank it down 12 notches,” Molly suggested.

“-for Pete’s sake,” Tater acknowledged Molly. “And didn’t you just eat an entire bag of flamin’ hot Cheetos in one sitting?”

“They were good! And I’m fine,” Molly insisted. “Sure, we’re out of milk, and I have strep throat, but I just took a shower and I don’t think I’m gonna pass out just yet.”

Tater and Holes pulled out a Lysol can, masks, gloves, and a plexiglass barricade within seconds, clearly getting flashbacks from 2020. Cadence wasn’t paying attention, as usual, and kept writing her response to the email.

“Relax,” Molly laughed, clearly not finding it strange that they had those on hand at least a decade later. “I got my antibiotics, it’s not contagious anymore. And hey, good news: I made a questionable decision, and that’s also not contagious.”

They threw the equipment behind them, seemingly into the abyss, and relaxed a bit.

“Ok, now to address the real problem,” Holes started. “Who is Pete and why are we doing everything for his sake?”

“Oh my gods, it’s an expression, Holes,” Tater sighed.

“No, no, Holes, is onto something,” Molly said, grabbing the detective hat Lynn had designed for her and putting it on. “And I intend to find out.”

“Cadence, please make it two against two,” Tater pleaded.

Cadence glanced up from her phone. “What’s happening?”

“Oh my- you know what, I should’ve expected that, considering the Paint Water incident.”

“Ok, the Paint Water Incident was ONE TIME!”

“The what?” Holes looked interested.

“We don’t talk about it,” Cadence chimed in. “Think of it as the Great Gulon Incident of our group.”

“Great,” Holes sighed. “Another mystery. You’re all high.”

“I was fully aware of what I was doing in that incident.”

“Even better,” Holes commented dryly. “Nevermind, I don’t need to know.”

“Besides, there are great puzzles to be solved,” Molly continued enthusiastically. “Onward! We must scavenge for our first clue of Pete’s identity.”

Tater closed her eyes, telling her conscience to shove it for a moment. “Where do we start, Detective?”

Holes raised their eyebrows.

“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” Tater shrugged.

Molly looked at Holes in expectation. “Alright, fine,” Holes caved. “But I’m taking Cadence with us, I’m not going crazy alone.”

“That ship has sailed for both of us,” Cadence commented, not looking up from her phone.

“Yeah, haha, very funny. Let’s check out the corner opposite of the one they’re searching.” Holes paused, waiting for them to be out of earshot. “We don’t have to do anything, just pretend to search, I’ll be watching to make sure they don’t get killed.”

Cadence looked down at the email from her client. A shipping of 500 bottles, and 3,000 containers of newer products. And to Peru? Why had they changed the shipping address? She sighed. It was going to be a long day.

________

Connor’s house was on fire. Connor’s house was on fire. Why was Connor’s house on fire, you ask? Well, if you need to ask, you clearly haven’t met him. Lynn gazed at the sight in front of her tiredly, not knowing how she hadn’t expected this to happen.

Speens was calmly watering the bushes surrounding the house, not giving a second thought about putting out the fire with the water they had.

Lilah appeared beside Lynn, startling her. “Oh, good, you came. Gray has been trying to help Connor stand up for the past 30 minutes, but he’s way too drunk and he keeps refusing to ditch the rollerblades. Oh yeah, and his house is on fire.”

“About that, how’d it happen?”

“He was rollerblading on the stair railings when he fell onto their lamp, which tilted over and fell onto the seance that he was holding earlier in the day so the candles fell onto the hardwood floor, and then he spilled vodka everywhere, and then the flames turned blue, so here we are,” Lilah recounted all in one breath. “It’s kinda beautiful to be honest.”

“Beautiful isn't the word I would use to describe it,” Speens called. “It’s interfering with the plants. Well, except for Suzy, she’s a stubborn one. She wouldn’t burn, and believe me, I tried to make her.”

“I believe you,” Lynn said, quite understandingly. She had seen Speens around on the Deep Web, but had respected their secret. They all had secrets, after all.

Lynn walked inside where the hose was already uncoiled and ready to be used. Connor, however, was clinging to Gray’s leg. “NO, DON’T USE A HOSE, THE HOUSE DOESN’T LIKE SHOWERS.”

“Connor, the house is an inanimate object, it does not care,” Gray told him, trying to get control of the fire in the kitchen.

Connor gasped. “How DARE you talk to Cynthia like that?! She deserves better!” He crawled over to a wall that was, inevitably, about to burn down, and he stroked it. “You’re gonna be okay, sweetie. Don’t listen to the mean person, they’re just a hater.”

Gray shook their head and sighed. “Hey, Lynn. Can you increase the water pressure?”

Lynn did so, much to Connor’s dismay. To make up for it, Lynn handed Connor a piece of a floorboard that had undoubtedly been broken into pieces when they fell off of the stairs. He hugged the floorboard close to his face, crying happy tears, not thinking about the possibility of splinters. Lynn was confused, but had a feeling she would need him as an ally soon, and this was the best way to start.

Lynn babysat Connor as Gray put out the fire. When they had finished, none of the house had fallen down. It was weaker, and very charred, but somehow it hadn’t fallen.

Gray reached behind them and pulled out a ladder and a blueprint covering the new design of Connor’s structurally damaged home. Everyone had become acquainted with such things being summoned when needed. “Alright, I got the materials in the car, but we need to fix this house, er, Cynthia, up.”

“Renovating a house, huh,” Lynn muttered. “Better than spending all day dealing with paperwork. But if I’m going to help you and Connor, I’m going to need both of your help. So, how about an offer?”

Gray narrowed their eyes. “What would that offer entail?”

“Well, for you, Gray, I’d need help renovating a certain building. We’re talking about new elevators, knocking down walls, putting up new ones, new furniture, everything businessy. As for you, Connor,” Lynn paused, waiting for him to look at her. “I need a spy. You don’t have to be sober, but you have to keep them talking alright?”

“I’m feelin’ woozy,” Connor giggled.

“Can you overhear what people say and report back to me when you hear something important despite the wooziness?”

“Yup, and I can be a skater dude, too,” he grinned goofily. “We can all live our dReAmS.”

“Well, I’m in,” Gray said, helping Connor lay down. “I’ll certainly need a team for that building of yours, but I’m in. I can’t repair a house on my own anyway.”

Lynn nodded. A team, huh? For that she needed customers, crazy, loyal, and determined enough to support her products. She had a few people in mind who might be able to deliver.

______

“Meg, you got the snacks?” Ivy called over her shoulder, setting up the gaming consoles. They had finally stopped procrastinating and organized a group hangout between Speens, Ivy, and Meg, making it a game night. Ivy brought the video games, Speens brought the hands-on games, and Meg was in charge of snacks.

“Yup,” she smiled, wheeling in a wagon of junk food. “Anything you could want, it’s here. What games you got?”

“Rocket League, Mario Kart, only the best of the best. How about you, Speens?”

“Uno, Jenga, Connect Four, Scrabble, Twister, Monopoly, you name it, I got it. Where do you want to start? Virtual or hands on?”

“Virtual, I guess,” Meg decided. “Haven’t played in a while, ever since a pigeon yeeted my controller out of a window.”

Ivy tilted her head, asking for an explanation.

“T’was like a message from an angry god,” Meg said wistfully, resting her head in her hands. “A god who preached ‘live, laugh, yeehaw, and stop playing The Last of Us 2 because it’s a trash game.’”

“Are you on drugs?” Ivy looked sincere.

“I mean, I wrote ‘gay’ and ‘yeehaw’ all over my dad’s truck, and later that night I had a dream about falling in love with the sister of this prince that I had to stop from destroying everything at exactly 12 AM, but I don’t think that’s what you’re looking for.”

“No, that answered my question,” Ivy said, setting up the board out while the sunset shined brightly onto their faces in the cool evening light.

Meg chose the monster truck token. “Refresh my memory, how do you play again?”

“It’s literally just capitalism for kids, and I am above you mere mortals,” Speens helped, choosing the rubber duck token, and taking a Snickers and KitKat from Meg’s snack wagon. What happened next was ungodly. Speens opened the KitKat bar and ate it. Without. Separating. The Bars.

Ivy reeled back in horror, and Meg hid behind her, terrified of the scene going on before their eyes.

“What?” Speens finished the chocolate and wiped their hands with a tissue. “Are we going to play this game or not?”

“Oh no,” Ivy said, pulling her hair slightly. “You don’t get to gloss over that. The Forbidden Spicy Gatorade is for all of us to share and enjoy once we get our hands on it, but you never, never, disrespect the KitKat bar.”

Speens scoffed. “You’re really going to dwell on that?”

“Going to dwell- I can’t even-“ Ivy took a deep breath to steady herself.  “I will not allow this in my house. So you know what? Let’s raise the stakes. We need this Monopoly game to be a game-changer.”

Speens narrowed their eyes. “What are you saying? You’re betting something?”

“Yup. If I win, you have to wear a hoodie that says “I love Holes” and you have to help me with a plan of mine. If you win, I’ll help you get revenge on someone.”

“And if I win,” Meg continued. “Y’all owe me a lifetime’s supply of fro-yo and you both have to agree to each other’s bet deals.”

“Deal from my end,” Ivy pitched in, selecting the top hat token. The other two agreed, and the game commenced.

By 3 o’clock in the morning, Ivy had been in jail 17 times, and Speens had one hotel left. With a few lucky turns, Speens was bankrupt.

Ivy smirked, having a good feeling about this. “I call upon the power of the almighty Top Hat!”

“Oh, don’t look so smug, Ives,” Speens scowled, opening their suitcase of vodka and pouring their version of two shots. “You can still lose to Meg, and she bet a lot.”

“True, but in reality, would you rather lose to Meg or me?” Ivy flashed a grin. “The hoodie’s in my room, by the way. Don’t worry- it’s washed!”

Sighing, Speens went to retrieve the hoodie. A deal’s a deal, after all. When they returned, they looked ready to kill someone. They wore a baggy bright pink hoodie with “I Love Holes!” spelled in purple glitter. “You better win this, Meg.”

Meg stuffed a hand in her bag of snacks and nodded. Ivy’s turn was next, and it brought Meg down to $100. Speens muttered something under her breath and waved her hand in an elaborate motion. Seconds later, a loud crash was heard, followed by the breaking of glass and the sound of spraying water.

Ivy frowned. “What was that?”

“Go check,” Speens suggested.

Ivy looked out of the kitchen window to see… no window. The top of a fire hydrant had come bursting off of its mounted position and had crashed through her window. “No!” She frantically ran to the street to assess the damage from outside.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Speens stirred their beverage casually. “She’s not looking, you can win this.”

“Even if it means you always have to pay for my fro-yo?”

Speens shrugged. “Beats having her win. Besides, I’ll eat just as much fro-yo as you do if I’m paying for it.”

Meg went through the cards quickly, ignored whatever magic just went on. With a lifetime supply of such an other-worldly snack, who wouldn’t? Meg found her card just in time, as Ivy came back in, looking surprisingly calm.

“I boarded up the window, insurance will cover it,” she explained. “Your turn, Meg.”

Meg pulled the card she had placed on top of the pile and made her move. She had done it. Ivy was bankrupt. Not only that, but she was going insane. She flipped the board, sending everything tumbling into the depths of her house.

“How did you- you had no chance-”

“Breath, princess,” Speens joked. “I know what’ll take your mind off of this: some good old fashioned revenge on an old rival of mine. Whaddaya say, pal?”

“This day could not get any worse,” Ivy whined.

Except it could. And it did.

The electricity cut out and Ivy let out an ear-piercing screech.

__________

A/n: Not my favorite chapter, but I have some freaking PLANS for the next ones. Stay tuned! And if I made any errors, let me know because I can’t sit still for more than 5 minutes, so I only corrected a few things.

[flipomatic]

A New World Chapter 8: Surprise Visit

Author Note: Time for something lighter. TsuguSayo will be present in this fic, though it is still a side ship. Please note that I have no idea what the school Sayo attends is like in real life. It has the name of a real university but does not reflect the real place.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

________________________________________________________

The weather had warmed considerably since the start of the school year. That was good, since Sayo’s school was fairly large. She spent a lot of time each day walking around it.

Crossing campus with her guitar slung over one shoulder was a pleasant affair. She didn’t even need to wear a coat now, especially on sunny days like today. A knee length skirt and short sleeved top were perfect for this weather.

Most of Sayo’s classes were near each other, but her ensemble class was on the opposite end of campus. It was pretty close to where Rinko’s were held, though not in the same building.

She had just left that class and was walking back towards the other side of campus. It was her last one for the day, ending around 3:00, so she was headed to the subway that would take her home. A large number of other students walked around her, all headed in different directions.

This afternoon and evening were earmarked for personal practice. Sayo planned to spend a couple hours on her composition work, then on practicing for Roselia. She had missed a couple practices recently due to her ensemble class demanding so much time, so she needed to put in extra practice time.

Sayo had almost reached the edge of campus, and was looking both ways to cross one of the last streets, when she spotted a familiar flash of brown hair in the distance. It belonged to a young woman, who was too far away to see properly. Another person stood next to her, with much lighter hair and a large piece of paper in their hands. They stood on a street corner, standing still as students moved around them.

That almost looked like, no, it couldn’t be. What could they possibly be doing here? Sayo squinted to try and see them better. It was no good, she was too far away.

Sayo quickly checked again for cars before crossing the street. She turned towards the two figures when she reached the other side, having to cross another street to even get close to them.

As Sayo neared, her suspicions were confirmed. The two teens wore very familiar uniforms, ones Sayo had seen every day on her sister and at Roselia practice. Now she could identify them as two members of Afterglow, Tsugumi and Moca.

Sayo wondered why they were here; when she last talked to Tsugumi, she hadn’t said anything about coming to campus. She hadn’t been to Hazawa café in a while, due to how busy her schedule had become.

Tsugumi had a hand over her eyes, likely to keep the sun out of them, as she looked towards the center of campus. Moca had her head down, eyes locked onto the paper she was holding.

When Sayo reached the final street between them, one of them finally noticed her. Moca’s eyes flicked up from the map, landing on Sayo when she was waiting to cross. A smirk grew on her face as she lightly elbowed Tsugumi, taking one hand off her paper to point in Sayo’s direction.

Tsugumi followed her finger, beaming as her eyes landed on Sayo. She raised one hand to wave, an overly enthusiastic gesture. Sayo lifted her hand slightly to return it.

Moca leaned over and said something to Tsugumi, which Sayo was too far away to hear. Tsugumi’s cheeks flushed pink as she turned towards Moca, her reply also inaudible.

The cars finally cleared, and Sayo was able to cross the street. “Hazawa-san, Aoba-san,” she greeted them as she approached.

“Hi Sayo-san!”

“Fancy seeing you here.” Moca said as she raised her eyebrows, as smug as ever. They both had their schoolbags with them, which made sense considering the time of day.

“That should be my line.” Sayo countered, looking between the pair. “What brings you to the university?”

Tsugumi was still smiling brightly. “We’re looking at schools for next year.”

That was a surprise; Sayo hadn’t thought Tsugumi would study music in college. It wasn’t something they had talked about though, so perhaps she was wrong. “Do you want to study piano?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“I’m not sure yet, I’m keeping my options open.” A frank and honest answer, the kind Sayo expected from Tsugumi.

“Moca-chan’s too lazy for studying.” Moca drawled, chuckling at the end.

Tsugumi quickly turned towards her. “That’s not true!” She insisted, crossing her arms. “And you know it!” Sayo was inclined to agree with her; she had heard Moca play guitar and knew the other teen was quite talented.

“I mean…” Moca shifted her weight, bringing the paper up in front of her face. From this distance, Sayo could now see that it was a map. Moca appeared to be holding it upside down. “Didn’t we come here to see where Sayo-san goes to school?”

“Moca-chan!” Tsugumi’s face grew red as she snatched the map from the snickering teen. Her voice came down to a quiet level, but Sayo could still hear her. “You said you wouldn’t.” Her eyes flicked once towards Sayo, then back to Moca. Moca just shrugged, her grin larger than before.

Sayo wasn’t sure why Tsugumi seemed embarrassed; she was happy that others wanted to see her school. Especially Tsugumi, whose opinion she held in high regard.

University hadn’t all been smooth sailing, but Sayo was enjoying her time there so far. “I can show you around, if you’d like.” The words came out before Sayo could truly comprehend what she was suggesting. It was on impulse, a rash desire to help.

Tsugumi, who looked like she was about to strangle Moca a moment before, now turned back to Sayo with a completely different demeanor. Her eyes practically glimmered with excitement, an infectious eagerness that gave Sayo a funny feeling in her chest. “That would be amazing!” This meant that Sayo would be delaying her practice time, but when Tsugumi looked at her like that it didn’t matter. Practice could wait.

“We were lost anyway.” Moca admitted casually, taking the map back from Tsugumi and folding it up.

Tsugumi relinquished it without a fight. “Just a little.”

“We can start here then, if you’re ready.” The other two nodded that they were. Sayo looked around, to make sure she knew where she was. This street corner was near the edge of campus, close to where Sayo had most of her classes. “There are about thirty buildings on campus, which includes classrooms and dormitories.” Sayo picked a direction, back towards the center of campus, to start walking.

Tsugumi walked next to her with Moca trailing behind, listening as she talked about the structures. “These two buildings are for guitar students.” Sayo pointed out where her classes were held as they passed by. “I spend most of my time here.”

“What other kinds of classes do you take?” Tsugumi asked. The trio continued to walk as they talked.

“General requirements and ensemble.” Sayo enjoyed ensemble, but the opposite was true of her general requirements class. There was one a semester in traditional school topics, with math being her current class. It was her least favorite class by far.

“Can you learn how to become bread here?” Moca asked a follow up question, though Sayo doubted its sincerity.

“No, you can’t.” She replied in a flat tone. “This is a music school, not a bakery.”

Tsugumi giggled at that, while Moca rolled her eyes and said, “Riiiight.”

“I’m thinking about studying baking, after high school I mean.” Tsugumi brought the topic back on track. “Or training to be a chef.”

“That’s a good goal.” Sayo replied, seeing that as a logical career path for Tsugumi. Those skills couldn’t be studied at this university, but there were plenty of excellent culinary schools in Tokyo. She’d be well equipped to take over the family business, or maybe even open her own. “I’m confident that you’d be great at both.” Sayo said that from a point of personal belief, from her own experiences with Tsugumi’s excellent baked goods.

Tsugumi smiled softly, a small but impactful expression. “Thank you, Sayo-san. That means a lot to me.”

Sayo couldn’t help but smile back, her chest warm from something that wasn’t the spring air. This had been happening more and more often, when she spent time with Tsugumi. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but she welcomed the feeling.

“Ahem.” Moca cleared her throat, snapping Sayo out of her thoughts. “What’s that building for?” She pointed towards one of the taller buildings, that had a large number of cars parked in front of it.

“One of the dormitories.” Sayo said after checking the name of the building. “The cafeteria is located here as well.”

The tour continued with scattered conversation, as they passed other buildings. Sayo tried to share interesting information, while Tsugumi hung on to every word. Moca was a less attentive participant, but she at least didn’t get lost. Sayo made sure to point out where Rinko’s classes were when they passed by.

It was good to catch up with Tsugumi, to talk about the café, the strains of being a third year, and what university was like. Moca contributed a little to the conversation, mostly with quips and one liners.

After about an hour, they had finished the tour. They had made a loop of campus, walking in a large square around the edges of it.

When the reached the street corner that they started on, they got ready to part ways.

“Thank you so much!” Tsugumi said enthusiastically. “This was a great tour!” She sounded sincere, and Sayo believed her.

“You’re welcome.” It was getting close to 5:00 now, but Sayo didn’t regret staying. She had enjoyed the tour as well. “Come visit anytime.”

“Careful~” Moca smirked. “She might take you up on that.”

Tsugumi ignored her, choosing to instead reply to Sayo. “Will I be seeing you at the café?”

That was a good question. “I’d like to, but it’s been tough getting away.”

Tsugumi’s expression fell, sending a wave of guilt through Sayo. “I understand, let me know if you’re in the area.” She glanced down, breaking eye contact. “It would be nice to see you.” Her last words were quieter, softer than the ones before.

“I’ll try my best.” Sayo knew she couldn’t commit to a certain day or time, but she hated seeing that discouraged look on Tsugumi’s face. “And I’ll let you know.”

This brought a small smile back to Tsugumi’s lips. “Looking forward to it!” She stepped back, waving with one hand. “See you around!”

“Bye bye.” Moca turned to walk away as well, calling her goodbye over her shoulder.

Sayo waved back as the pair retreated, watching them leave campus. She had to leave soon too, to go home and rehearse. She walked towards the subway station, with the conversation she just had stuck in her mind.

Once on the subway, she looked at her calendar. There had to be a good time slot next week to visit the Hazawa café.

Even if there wasn’t, Sayo was going to make one.

Next Chapter

[oneyeartoparty]

Meeting At Long Last - Chapter 1

I LOVE soulmate AU’s so I decided to write my own. Should be able to post another chapter of this within the next week. Apologies for bad grammar. I’m still learning. Enjoy and know I’m sending the good vibes your way <3

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24753607/chapters/59847541

This is a message from Crossing Island! Please help us! We’re under attack from pirates! Please send someone to assist! Repeating message.

When the message started blaring through her Den Den Mushi, interrupting her much needed sleep, she knew she had to respond. She had only entered the New World a day ago, and already she was going on her first hunt. Given how few made it past Fishman Island, she was surprised it had happened so soon. She had been hoping for a break after almost being eaten by a Sea King during her ascent.

I guess getting some time off was overly optimistic she thought as she gazed at the destruction below.

Her hilltop vantage point gave her a good view of the destroyed town and the forest beyond it. The once proud town was now ablaze; flames sprouted out of the roofs of buildings while others had already been turned to ash and dust. Still remnants of the missing residents remained. She could see a burning home with daisies in the windowsill and well-tended ivy climbing its walls. Close to it was a child’s chalk drawing of a cat on the cobblestone path. This town was once home to peaceful people going about their lives, and now it was a burning husk.

Anger scratched in her chest. These scenes were not uncommon in the Grand Line, and each one added to her hatred of those who would so readily harm others for gain or entertainment. Fortunately, there wouldn’t be a long search for the culprit. After all, the lumbering figure wondering between burning buildings couldn’t be missed.

He was Mozo the Mad, a man with a 50 million bounty gained from raiding villages and towns. He was tall, easily three metres in height with a body and limbs as thick as a tree trunk. The clothes he wore were the same as those in his bounty poster; a grey suit and bowler hat that were far too small. As she watched him now, she saw the clothing nearly bursting at the seams with every movement he made.

Why wear such ill-fitting clothing? And why no shoes? She pondered his odd choice in apparel as he entered another building.

Maybe he is another idiot who thinks having a gimmick makes him intimidating.

Still his clothes weren’t his most stand out feature. That honour went to his face, which had two prominent features he was well-known for. The first was his smile. He was said to always be smiling, showing of his rotting, serrated teeth that were rumoured to give off an intense, foul odour of decay. The second was the deep scars that surrounded his thin lips, gained from his habit of absentmindedly chewing them.

She had tried to catch him while still in Paradise, but he disappeared before she could find him. It seems she had found where he disappeared to.

She had to capture him here, but she would have to plan this well. The small, flickering lights coming from the forest that surrounded most of the town told her the villagers were still nearby. If he ran in that direction, he wouldn’t hesitate to use them as shields.

The flames danced and Mozo continued to rummage through the destruction. Finally, she stood and stretched.

She was ready to begin. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Blood and ash stained hands ripped up the floorboards of a now abandoned home. Mozo craved his well-earned treasure and so he searched the town. Beneath beds, inside mattresses and under floorboards. He teared into every space that could be used as a hiding spot.

So far, his search had netted him little. A few hundred thousand beli and a gold necklace was all the loot he’d found. Still he continued the search. The town had been built quickly with quality materials and expert hands. That doesn’t happen without money.

Wondering out of another home with no new loot, Mozo felt his frustration peak.

“Dammit!” he shouted into the empty town. He needed a new plan. Searching like this was getting him nowhere and as the flames spread the risk grew that they’d consume any loot before he reached it.

He considered finding the villagers that had escaped into the nearby forest. It wouldn’t take much to get them to talk.

Impatience took over, and he begrudgingly took a step in the direction of the forest when he felt it. A stabbing pain in his left leg that caused him to look down. Blood slowly trickled from a new wound on his shin, yet he couldn’t see a source.

He leaned in closer to inspect the wound. Had he injured himself in his search? It wouldn’t be the first time.

His inspection was halted by a sudden flood of light that illuminated the world around him. Looking up, he saw he was now surrounded by a circle of flame that towered into the night sky.

Unfazed by the odd occurrence, Mozo let out a booming laugh.

“Do you villagers think some flames will scare me off? No, this is just a minor annoyance.”

No response came. He searched for any movement or sign of life, but there was nothing. Even as sweat gathered on his body and smoke tickled his throat there were no perpetrators to aim his fury at.

“Hello Mozo.”

The female voice came from behind. It was barely above a whisper, so they had to be close. Hoping to capitalise on their mistake he moved to punch behind him. Yet as he spun all he felt was air. Stopping his swing, he looked forward, seeing the source of the voice.

His first though was that a rabbit mink stood before him, but soon he realised that wasn’t the case.

The figure before him was a freak in a pink and white rabbit mask.

Their attire was simple brown leather armour and boots. A small rectangular shield ran the length of their lower left arm, and an unsheathed sword glinted in her right hand.

It was obvious to Mozo that this person was his enemy, even an idiot could figure that out. Yet they appeared to be alone. The docks were some distance behind the figure, but he couldn’t see them past the wall of flames that entrapped them both.

Deciding not to wait to find out if this person was a threat, he smiled his most intimidating smile and pointed both his index fingers at his opponent.

“Spike Bullet!”

In an instant, two steel spikes emerged from his fingertips, aimed squarely at his opponent’s head.

The figure moved swiftly, easily dodging the projectiles.

There was no doubt that they were using observation haki. Even though he had yet to unlock it himself he still knew what it looked like.

Undeterred, he continued firing, failing to land a shot. Yet his opponent didn’t move, instead just dodging his attacks.

He realised their observation haki must be too powerful for his regular attack. He would need to use something stronger to get the upper hand.

‘Spike Barrage!”

He quickly shifted his hands, facing his palm toward them. With incredible speed, hundreds of spikes began emerging from palms. Using the full power of his devil fruit, he made the spikes morph between different materials and sizes. Ice, fire, wood, and steel spikes all appeared, some the size of his head and others smaller than a needle.

A streak of confidence took over him. There was no way they could beat this attack. No one else he had ever face had survived it. Unable to see through the barrage of spikes, he slowed it, confident he would see a corpse before him.

His confidence quickly faded however, when he saw his opponent standing in exact same spot. The only difference was the damage caused by the spikes to the area that surrounded them.

Impossible! He thought in a panic. I fired hundreds of spikes at em and they dodged them all? They must have a devil fruit. It’s the only explanation. A logia maybe? Every hotshot with a logia thinks they can beat me.

Mozo wouldn’t get the answer to his question. Instead all that he would see was black after the same figure standing before him crept up behind him and knocked him out with a swift, well-aimed punch to the back of his head. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The click of the sea stone shackles as they enclosed Mozo’s wrists and ankles bought her a small sense of satisfaction. His capture would not make the New World any safer, but one less scumbag was a good thing.

Detaching the chain from the back of her belt, she attached the hooked end to the chain between Mozo’s wrists. He was too heavy to carry, so dragging him was her only option. 

Letting out a sigh, she began dragging her captive toward her ship.

My muscles are going to hate me for this.

She walked in silence as she made her way forward. The only sounds were the crackling of the remaining flames and the crunch of soil and the clinking of the chains as she dragged her quarry to the edge of town. As she walked past the broken town sign, the wind picked up, dust and leaves floated past her.

This was no ordinary wind. The trees far ahead of her weren’t moving and the clear sky signalled that there was no incoming storm. Something was coming toward the island, and she doubted it would be pleasant.

Then it hit her, just like the wind had. There was a powerful force heading toward the island. If she had less skill in observation haki, she would have said it was one being of immense power, but she could sense a large group. One stood out though, like a tsunami against a wave. Whoever or whatever they were, they were not to be trifled with by someone of her strength.

Her gaze turned to the town’s dock and the horizon beyond. There she could see the source of what she had sensed. A ship was sailing toward the island, the whales head that made up the vessels bow the its three tall masts poked at her memory. She knew them but didn’t remember where from.

She thought at first to describe the ship as massive, but somehow the word felt like a disservice. As it drew closer its size seemed to only increase, a testament, she felt, to the strength of those who dwelt onboard.

A fluttering to her side drew her attention. It was a singed flag that was stuck under some rubble. It was the Jolly Roger of the Whitebeard Pirates.

“Oh”.

[moccahobi]

Here's the prompt! BEEN WAITING TO GET THIS OUT OF MY WIP LIST! An A.I Android stuck under water with no legs and gets daily visits from an atlantian/mermaid/seirin. The A.I. was abandoned and has many malfunctions which include it resetting its memory everyday. Choose any BTS member to be any of the two characters and the other is the reader. Go all out my Queen!

Under Da Sea

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.4k

Genre: Mermaid/Siren Au!; Andriod/A.I. Au!

Summary: You’re just an abandoned android made to take care of passengers on a plane with less than a week to live and Jimin is just a merman keeping you company

Alert.

Alert.

Air pressure is changing rapidly. Passengers are in danger.

Alert.

Alert.

Your eyes shot open, the emergency alert telling you that some type of crash is happening and you need to help your passengers. You try to flail your arms and legs but you only sense your arms moving. You try to look around and your eyes only see  the dull blackness of night. It starts to come back to you; you retired five years ago after the last airplane was serviced out, supposedly you are working on a yacht for some bratty rich teen… not a plane. Why is air pressure changing rapidly?

Before you can even process another thing, ice cold water seizes your circuits, freezing you up. When you would have normally struggled to stay afloat, you simply sink into the water. Now seeing sea life pass by you quickly before, you finally find the ability to move your head slightly and see the yacht you were supposed to be on sailing away, your legs nowhere in sight. You felt an itch in your shoulder as it involuntarily twitches over and over again.

You were made for the air, not the water, and your body was not taking lightly to the liquid.

Once again the water  seizes your circuits and everything fades to static, a warm fuzzy feeling enveloping you as you drift off, finally feeling weightless.

“Are you ok?” You hear a voice asking distantly. It was soft and soothing and you clung onto the voice as it reverberated through your head slowly.

“Seriously Jimin, I think the human is dead. I have never seen one sink so quickly… nor have I ever seen one without their lower halves.” Some other voice says once again distantly. In fact, the whole moment feels very distant, as if you were living behind the static, watching two humans watch a show.

The original voice chimes in again,“I saw them move earlier,” The voice was just as soft and soothing as before and you stirred slightly from the static in response.

Was there something about this voice? Probably not, but you still tried to talk, the static clearing slightly.

“Wha-” Water surges into your mouth the moment you tried to fight the static, forcibly flooding your wiring and sending alarms blaring in your head once again. Your body heaves and spazzeses, trying to forcibly remove the liquid from your body, not that it mattered.

“See! It just spoke! You’re alive! Let’s take it to my abode! We can help it!” The soft and soothing says once again and you start to sense some sort of movement.

 Alert!

Alert!

Body is contorting in possibly damaging.

Contact mechanic.

Alert!

Alert!

The static grows stronger, once again taking over as you try to figure out how your body was contorting.

“I am not helping. You can do that yourself.” The other voice slips in between the grains of static filling your mind as you feel cold water surging back into you from your waist wound, and for the second time in that day, the static envelops you whole and you lose yourself.

You groan and rub your head, the water around you making your movements slow and tense. You are sitting on something plus and soft. The thing seems to be keeping water from flowing freely into your exposed circuits, something you were very grateful for.

The same soft and soothing voice from before graces your ears, “Ahh! You’re up, human! I am honestly surprised! My hyung was sure that you would be dead by now! I told him wrong! Humans are much stronger than he gives them credit! How are you feeling? Do you need something to eat? Is there something I can do for you?”

As you open your eyes, the… thing the voice belongs to surges towards you… almost excitedly. It shocks you and you jolt (not that you move much with your lower half missing). The creature is very handsome, coal black hair flowing with the water as he smiles broadly at you, sharp teeth staring you down. Your database says that its top half is the same as a human’s top half… but his bottom half?

You have no idea. It matches nothing in your system.

Nothing at all.

You open your mouth to try to speak to the creature, feeling as if it was something you could trust and could talk to, but the result is the same as before: water flows into your body, shocking your circuits. This time the shock leads to your hands twitching angrily.

“Can you not speak, little human?” The thing asks, moving closer to you and looking into your eyes with a sense of focus that you cannot ever recall seeing before.

It is as if he was really looking at you and trying to understand you. With your hand twitching, you try to point at the water and your mouth with a shake of your head, as if to say that water can’t go in there. Of course the movement has its flaws but it is the best you can do without being able to speak.

“Water isn’t supposed to be in your mouth?” His eyes widen as he asks the question, as if this is new information that he had never even considered before, “Well how are you supposed to… drink water… that’s something humans do right?”

All you feel as if you can do is nod your head. Drinking water is something humans need to do, but you aren’t human and can’t drink water. He seems curious about humans though (if his large eyes and excited questions are anything to go by) and, for the first time since you remember, you feel bad for being an android instead of a human. The creature looks like he really wants to meet a human.

He swims around the space you two were in, following the walls around the building before stopping in front of you once again, “Well… do you want something to eat then? I have raw fish, kelp, some plankton, really anything you want, I can get.”

You shake your head again.

Helplessness washes over you, there is literally nothing you can do to better the situation if you can’t communicate. You were literally created to be able to communicate with everyone so in theory, you shouldn’t have an issue with communication (plus, this man is speaking a language you know), but you are having trouble communicating. This should be easy for you to solve but it isn’t. What can you do? There is nothing you really can do. No spoken language can work if you can’t open your mouth… But that still leaves written language and any sign language if he knows it…

You shakily raise your hands as best as you can and sign out “Do you know sign language?” It is a long shot, but you are willing to take it. What harm can come from trying anyways?

“Do I?” He looks excited, swimming closer to you with a large grin, his pointed teeth on display again.

They alarm you some, but he was your only hope of survival and you wanted to take it. “Well I am not human.” You sign out before he quickly interrupts, “But you look human and feel human! How are you not human?”

“I am a machine that humans created for their comfort. If I were human I would have died when I lost my legs.”

You continue signing and for once the… thing seems to listen, “I don’t know how I got here, but I am not human. I rely on electricity and will be useless if I don’t get some every once in a while. I can’t drink water or food. In fact, water inside of me will actually hurt me. I was not made to be wet.”

It is hard to sign underwater, the liquid resisting any and all movement. It makes you even more amazed that the thing in front of you is able to move so gracefully through the water.

“If you aren’t made to be wet then how are you underwater right now?” He asks, eyes wide as he seems to swim a little closer.

You can’t fully tell though because the water had started warping your ability to see. That or the thing’s home was circular.

“I have no idea, but I don’t think I will live long down here. I think I have a week max before I lose power and essentially die.Will you please help me get to the surface? It is the one way I will survive. I don’t want to die.”

You almost tell the thing about how much the idea of death scares you. You are supposed to be some immortal being made by mankind to serve them and here you are, possibly dying soon.

“I am sorry, little non-human. I can’t go to the surface. I will die if I do, but I am happy to show you around! I don’t like the idea of anyone or anything dying and can help you have fun before you might!” He scowles, some of his… teeth snagging on his lip as he shakes his head, “I would really love to get you back to a safe place, but you sink. I’d have to surface and if I did that I could put my entire community at risk as well. I hope you understand.”

It make you sad, but at the same time, something resonates in you. This thing was so caring that it is willing to stay with you through your death. It is so caring that it is promising to do what it can in its limitations.

“I do. Very much so. If it wouldn’t be too much of burden, I would love to explore this area before my death. Company makes everything better.”

You sign, smiling at the thing, “What is your name?”

“Oh! I am Jimin! What’s your name?”

It was smiling as you signed out your name, “Well Y/n, I am glad to meet a hu- machine like you!”

It is really, truely, so kind. If you were in a similar situation, would you be as kind as him? You don’t know. Jimin smiles at you and picks you up, the two of you moving away from its abode. No water flows into your lower torso which confirms your theory that it had sealed it up somehow. The area Jimin lived in was this majestic area that has ruins of old ships, dead coral, and bones all around. The area is super calming with colorful fish, plankton, and other sea creatures like Jimin lazily swimming around. Occasionally you see a sea creature eating one of the other animals that live in the area, but over all every living thing seem relaxed and happy, nothing like anything you had ever seen with humans. You are actually seeing nature in its original habitat instead of trapped by humans for their own pleasure.

Soon enough, you find yourself sitting next to Jimin, looking out on some sort of field of bobbles. They look like what your database would call underwater heat vents, but seeing as you are seeing them from underwater, you couldn’t be sure. It is nice sitting in front of the vents with Jimin, the two of you laughing and talking about your lives, strange interactions you have had, and so much more (turns out that Jimin is a merman and sex/gender works very similarly… it is a he). It is honestly amazing. The last time you remember having such a long and great conversation was when you had to calm a passenger down from a panic attack.

Jimin swims up to the vents and starts weaving in between the two, laughing and smiling while showing off. You took the time to think. Jimin is sweet, caring, and kind, and he makes you feel normal. Not like some sort of humanoid android who is ment to serve humans, just you. Even if you can’t open your mouth and actually speak, you feel as if this day is the freest you have ever been. That thought made you a little sad. Jimin comes back before you can think about sadder things and he takes the two of you back to his abode for a small nap, him talking and you listening the whole while. It is so nice to talk to Jimin for all the time that you feel a pang in your mechanical heart stutters when he tells you that he is going to take a nap. You but want the merman to leave you alone, but apparently mermen need as much sleep as humans.

Due to Jimin needing so much sleep, you find yourself watching him as he sleeps. It is less creepy than it seems, you literally have nothing else to do. He was sleeping, an arm lazily thrown over his chest as his chest rises and falls slowly, his hair lazily floating in the water all around his head. Nothing moves as you watch. No fish, no plankton, nothing. It feels serene as you stare at the merman.

It is serene as you fall asleep, once thought left in your mind:If you will to die, you’re glad that your dying with Jimin present to keep you company.

Alert.

Alert.

Water is flooding the cabin.

Passengers are in danger.

Alert.

Alert.

Your eyes spring open, trying to jump up and help those who you can from the crash, but you don’t move.

Your alarms are going crazy, but you don’t move.

You can’t move.

Something is wrong.

Where are you? Where are your passengers. You must’ve been out for a while if some shelter formed over your head. Quickly after you wake up, some… thing swims in front of you. It is scary. It has the upper half of a human but nothing else is human-like. Nothing else is familiar to you. It was smiling at you and saying something that you couldn’t hear. You try to open your mouth and talk but water floods your insides and you immediately feel as if you are going to seize up. You don’t, but the thing is now looking at you worriedly.

Only that worry doesn’t last long as you sign something that makes his face go sour and look sad:

Who are you?

___

I am so glad that @it-is-dana gave me this prompt! I think that for now we are trying to keep this on the dl, but we are planning on doing a June writing challenge! They are a great writer and I love them (as well as many of my other mutuals) and can’t wait to see what we create! Also, I haven’t read what Dana did with the prompt that I gave them, but I can promise you, IT’S GOOD! Imma cry when I read it. Lol. Kill me? But don’t I want to read Dana’s work.

[elenajohansenreads]

Books I Read in 2019

#166 - Ice Massacre, by Tiana Warner

The Reading Frenzy’s Holly Jolly Readathon -- A book with a wintery word in the title

Rating: 1/5 stars

Another hugely hyped book that was a vast disappointment to me. The concept is cool, I'll give it that, or I wouldn't have picked it up in the first place. But the world-building is thin, the plot full of gaping holes, the characters mostly without personality, and the action is jaw-grindingly constant to the point where it leaves no room for character development or better world-building. And calling this a sapphic love story is just laughable. Literally the last thing in the book is the main character realizing she's in love with her childhood best friend who's also a girl who's also a mermaid--but they spend most of the books at odds with each other because of misunderstandings, because of the fact that they're both supposed to want to kill each other, and because they can't truly trust each other for most of the story. Eventually there's a small measure of devotion, but there's no romance to speak of. Everyone's too busy fighting, and I do mean everyone. But okay, if it's setup for the future installments, I could give that a pass. What I can't forgive is the insanely stupid logic of this thin, nonsensical world-building. First, the simple idea of the merpeople's "allure"--their hypnotizing magic--being effective against the opposite gender only is heteronormative in the extreme. My bisexual self is plenty attracted to women, so for most of the book I felt like it should work on me just fine. (And I can't even address the issues of trans or nonbinary characters, because there aren't any.) When it eventually became obvious that allure working on everyone would break the plot (the two friends can't fall in love with each other if magic is involved because then it's fake, also then the entire idea of sending girls out instead of boys to fight is a moot point and there's no story) I threw my hands up in the air and said to myself, "I'll accept it but I don't think it's good." Second, that leads to another problem; if the merpeople sent their women to fight because the human warriors had always been male before, when they discover the new ship of warriors are female, shouldn't they send their men instead? Oh, wait, they're all lampshaded to be fighting somewhere else entirely, in a different ocean. Except...are they all really gone? Because if they are, then who's making babies? We know there are babies because the crazy girl kills an infant. Which, by the way, is a war crime if you consider the mermaid "people," because clearly an infant is a noncombatant. So that's fun. (Also she ends up murdering a crewmate, but that's not tied to any of my complaints, actually, which almost surprises me. It was terrible but it actually sort of made sense at the time that it would happen the way it did.) But really, why keep sending the mermaids to kill the girls when mermen would have the advantage? Third, the structure of the Massacre itself. Would you have me believe that a group of twenty girls who have been training together for five years can't put aside petty high-school-style drama long enough to not get each other killed? Do you mean to tell me that the position of captain is assigned by their trainer, with a list of captains to follow in case of death or incapacitation, and it never once occurred to anyone organizing this thing that that's a recipe for constant mutiny? Do you seriously expect me to believe no adults went with them for supervision? That no adult women could have been trained alongside them to sail the ship, if not to actually fight? That no adult woman on the entire island was capable or available to be their captain and keep all those little shits in line? Weren't those people fishermen before the mermaids invaded, and that's why they're being starved out now? Sure, in modern military we train people about their age for combat, but we don't send them out on their own without superior officers, older and more experienced and hopefully with a little more wisdom! And if the problem is that they can't send the men who have survived their Massacres because now we send women because of the allure, then why were they ever sending men in the first place? Why did it take so long to decide to train girls instead? (The story's answer: unquestioned patriarchy. Girls aren't warriors. Because.) Fourth: no one has much of a personality, they're too busy getting killed. Of the twenty girls who set sail, I believe only seven or eight survive. They are mostly names on a page who die. Even some of the survivors, I couldn't tell you anything about, be it their physical appearance or their demeanor. They are mermaid fodder, some are there to be Captain Crazypants' cronies, they are faceless and interchangeable in death. Back to the "romance" for a second: I don't read Meela's constant distaste for her compatriots talking about boys or their boyfriends as her actually being in love with her female mermaid childhood best friend. That early, it doesn't even seem to allow for the possibility. It was far easier for me to read Meela as ace and/or aro--she seems completely uninterested in romance with the guy back home who's in love with her, and she says outright at one point that she can't imagine kissing him or having kids with him. Yes, it's all coded, but to me that's all code for aro-ace, possibly even to the point of sex-repulsed ace. The depth of her aceness would be open to interpretation, but nothing about her characterization for most of the book, such as it is, says to me, "no, she doesn't like Tanuu or boys in general but she's got confused feelings for girls she doesn't understand." She just doesn't seem to think romantic love or sex is important. So throwing it out there at the very end that she thinks she's in love with Lysi doesn't ring true to me at all, even though I could see it coming from the structure. Final problem: the plot takes a completely unexpected and illogical turn at the last second. The whole book has been about the Massacre, and then when it's almost over, our main character sacrifices herself (kind of) and gets captured by the mer-king (sort of) who agrees to let her and the few remaining crew go home so she can find a MacGuffin that's apparently a legend of their home island...that none of them have ever heard of. So if they don't know their own legends, how does the mer-king? There's no foreshadowing for this (or if there is it's so subtle as to be invisible), it makes no sense with the rest of the book, narratively speaking it's a deus ex machina to get them home when they're basically doomed otherwise. And obviously it's setting up the next book. But I don't care. I don't care because this one is so bad I don't want to read any more.