#IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING the atlantis fic is LAUNCHED

[mumms-the-word]

In Fathoms Below - Ch. 1

Ch. 1 - The Adventure Begins

Characters: Gale, Karlach, Wyll, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, Gortash + other OCs; pairing is Gale x fem!Tav Plot: The island city of Nautera disappeared over 4500 years ago, if it ever existed at all. Now not a single, legitimate record of Nautera exists, save for one. The Nauterran Account. Long thought lost, it has recently been retrieved from the depths of Candlekeep’s archives and placed into the capable hands of one Gale Dekarios. With the Nauterran Account in hand and an eclectic team of Baldurians and other allies mounting an official expedition, Gale journeys to find the ruins of Nautera…but hopes to find so much more. A/N: The adventure begins! Gale is setting off to meet with the expedition team, but first...how did we even get here?

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A strong sea breeze ruffled Gale’s hair as he stood on the deck of a ship nearing a small spit of land just east of Waterdeep. The island itself was nothing special, he knew that, but the people located there…they might be able to change everything.

He took a deep breath through his nose, scenting the salty air and wondering if today would be his last day breathing in fresh air for a while. Where he was bound to go, there would be no sun nor sky for some time, no wind to lift the hair from his neck, and no guarantee that he would make it back. But this was a chance in a lifetime. If he didn’t take it, he’d never get another opportunity to sate his curiosity.

Or set things right with Mystra.

Grimacing, he rubbed a hand absently against his chest, where the year-old dark mark of the Netherese orb lay dormant, hidden beneath his robes. For an entire year, he had isolated himself in his tower, trying to research ways to counteract the orb’s insatiable hunger for Weave magic, and failing that, trying to distract himself by researching nonsense. He’d all but mastered the dead languages of Netheril, both Netherese and Loross, and from there had gone on a whim to try and learn what he could of other languages, if only to have access to more reading material. But no arcane text in any language held the knowledge he needed. 

The knowledge of how to cure, stabilize, or rid himself of his greatest mistake, now housed in his chest, functioning as little more than a ticking time bomb.

Instead, he’d found himself absorbed with studies of the magics of old, the magic that existed before Karsus’s Folly. Magic like mythallars, great big orbs of power that could make entire cities float in the sky or submerge them completely underwater, yet allow for humans to walk and breathe air as easily as if they were on the surface. No such power existed anymore, except in histories and myths. Such colossal magic had long since been replaced with lesser magics, adhering strictly to Mystra’s post-Folly rules for the Weave. Not a single mythallar was left in all of Toril after Karsus’s Folly had destroyed the Weave and shattered them all.

Yet in his reading and research, he found himself returning again and again to the idea of mythallars, and specifically to one city that had housed the oldest one. Not a Netherese city, no, but a city that vastly predated Netheril. A city that was rumored to have gifted Netheril with the powers of flight.

Nautera.

It was all legend, of course. An elven city located somewhere in the midst of the sea, halfway between Faerûn and the elven country of Evermeet, home to the very first mythallar in existence. An island that no longer existed, disappearing a few thousand years before Karsus’s Folly, leaving nothing but open sea from Faerûn to Evermeet. No trace of it had ever been found, so these days everyone simply assumed it was an old bedtime story at best.

Besides, according to every human scholar, it was all hogwash. The city, the first mythallar, all of it. It was preposterous to think that the elves had invented mythallars before Ioulaum, the great mage of Netheril, had. Everyone with sense knew that mythallars were Ioulaum’s invention, a testament to human ingenuity, not elven trickery.  

But “everyone” hadn’t been following the clues the way Gale had, tracing connections between myths and histories to find kernels of truth, hints to suggest that Nautera had been all too real, once upon a time. Not only that, but that Ioulaum had been there sometime before he had invented mythallars. It was all hidden in throwaway references, marginalia in old manuscripts that no one cared to read anymore, footnotes long forgotten. But Gale, with nothing but free time on his hands while living isolated in his tower, had followed each breadcrumb meticulously from one to the next, growing more and more confident in the existence of Nautera.

That is, until he hit a wall. All signs pointed to the same source, an old text that, if it even existed, was likely lost to time or kept so deep in Candlekeep’s archives that there was no way Gale, newly humbled and fallen from grace, would ever be allowed near it. The Nauterran Account, it was called. A record written by an apprentice of Ioulaum’s recounting their journey to Nautera and the wonders they found there. If it existed, it was the last piece of the puzzle, the final source that would confirm whether or not Nautera actually existed…and if there really had been a mythallar there, centuries before the cities of Netheril ever took to the sky.

By the time Gale had realized the importance of the Nauterran Account, there was no use in trying to find it. He didn’t know the first place to look, beyond Candlekeep, and with the orb in his chest growing continually more unstable, the libraries and archives of Candlekeep were the last place he wanted to put at risk. His days were drawing to a close. He should have been preparing for a journey deep into the Underdark, or north to a secluded, icy vale, where he could wait out the inevitable explosion of the orb far away from anyone who might get killed alongside him. 

Yet he remained, unwilling to plan that kind of final journey. His thoughts were consumed by Nautera. But without that book, he was at a loss. Nothing else appealed to him. No other research mattered. He spent days either reviewing his notes, landing on the same old conclusions, or sitting on his balcony, looking eastward over the sea, wondering. Wishing. Dreaming. Not even Tara could distract him when his thoughts were on Nautera.

It was on one such dreary day that Elminster Aumar appeared.

Gale hadn’t been prepared for anyone to visit, let alone Elminster of all people. After a brief dinner and idle chatter, Elminster finally admitted he came not for chatter, but to give a message—both a promise and a warning, a gift and a deadline. Mystra was willing to offer what she considered forgiveness…but only on her terms. 

His message was simple. Mystra had agreed to stabilize the orb in exchange for a promise: that Gale would find a use for the orb’s errant magic before her charm wore off. He had, in effect, about six months to find something suitable. But “a use” could mean anything, and Elminster had gravely clarified that Mystra’s charm meant that Gale himself held the trigger to his own demise.

In other words, Mystra was asking him to die at a more convenient time and place.

No matter which way Gale turned it over in his mind, “a use for the orb’s errant magic” merely meant a suitable place for him to explode. So much for Mystra’s forgiveness in life. Death seemed inevitable. He was all but certain there was no spell on Toril that could cure him of his condition or siphon off the orb’s power, no scenario in which he would be able to give up the power locked within him freely without dying. And if he failed to find a use for the orb after six months…well.

It probably didn’t matter. He’d be just as dead.

But a command from Mystra wasn’t all that Elminster had brought. Though he had come professing to deliver a message, he had left behind a physical gift. “Some light reading,” he had said, chuckling to himself and passing over the canvas-bound package. Gale had looked cautiously at the old wizard before carefully unwrapping the canvas.

There, in his hands, was the long-lost Nauterran Account.

When he looked up, Elminster was gone, having disappeared without offering any further explanation, leaving behind only a single letter in the chair where he had been sitting. Written in an unfamiliar hand, it was a formal invitation (or perhaps proposal was the better word) for Gale to join an undersea expedition as a resident expert in arcane languages. Though the invitation lacked details, promising them on arrival at a small island to the east, Gale could readily connect the dots.

Elminster had opened up a path for him to Nautera. 

Whether Nautera held Gale’s salvation or not remained to be seen. By all accounts, the city should be in ruins. But if even fragments of their magic survived, if there were tablets to read or accounts to save…perhaps Nautera would have answers for Gale. 

And if not, well…the ruins of Nautera wouldn’t be such a bad place to die. Especially if aiding the expedition to get there meant proving to all the world that Nautera existed and that everything they thought they knew about Netheril was wrong. At the very least, he could go down in history as the man who proved thousands of Candlekeep and Blackstaff scholars wrong about the fabled islands of Nautera. 

That, if nothing else, was consolation enough.

Gale had answered the invitation immediately and wasted no time in packing his things, telling Tara to take good care of Morena while he was away, and to not breathe a word of what he was doing until he returned.

Now, several hours into the brief journey from Waterdeep to this tiny island, with the sea breeze on his skin, Gale was torn between a longing for more of this—sailing off toward a horizon, hoping to see more of the world—and a resignation that his final destination would be the ruins of a city far below these deep blue waves. He sighed and turned to sit on a long crate.

Only to hear and feel something bump within the crate as he sat down.

He sprang up again, staring at the wooden box with a baffled expression. Other than the sailors manning the small sloop, no one else should have been on board. Neither man, nor creature.

Narrowing his eyes, he reached for the lid of the crate. “Tara, you little minx, if that’s you in there…”

But before he could open the box, a sharp whistle sounded off behind him from the upper deck. “Reef the sails! Bring us in nice and steady, mates!”

It was time to depart. Gale cast one last suspicious look at the long crate before turning away to face the rudimentary docks constructed on the island.

Island was a bit of a generous term for the place where the ship docked, considering Gale could see every inch of land simply by turning his head. The island housed only a single stone building and a small pier, but this was where the invitation had directed him, and sure enough, someone was waiting for him on the docks. 

A red-skinned tiefling woman stood there, arms folded, watching them approach. She was tall, easily taller than him, with dark hair and one horn broken off. She sported a variety of black tattoos, but perhaps the most notable thing about her was that she was on fire, and yet barely seemed to notice. She grinned at him as the ship drew slowly to a halt, the sailors hopping off to secure the ropes.

“I take it you’re our expert in gibberish?” she called up to him. “Man with the words and all that?”

“I suppose I am,” he responded, shouldering his pack and walking down the gangplank the sailors had set up. He offered his hand for her to shake. “Gale of Waterdeep, at your service.”

“Karlach Cliffgate,” she said, taking his hand for a very quick but strong handshake. She let go and hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “Come on, the boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting. He’s been itching to get going.” She turned to the sailors. “You know where to store that stuff. Bring it downstairs, nice and easy, yeah? The sooner it’s on the submersible, the sooner we can shove off.”

“You got it, mate,” was the sailor’s reply. 

Without waiting to see if Gale would follow, Karlach turned and led the way toward the stone structure. Gale glanced back at the ship, wondering what was inside the crates, but figuring he’d probably find out soon enough. They were all going to the same place, after all.

The building contained only a small, sparsely furnished room and a staircase that led down into an underground space. As he followed Karlach down below, descending into darkness and emerging in torchlit passageways that seemed to lead deeper and deeper underground, Karlach kept up a steady stream of conversation.

“So, s’this your first time in a submersible?” she asked. “Mine, too, if I’m being honest. I know the boss loves these things, and I’ve worked with him for years, but I’ve never gone down in one of them. Gotta admit, I’m a little nervous.”

“Nervous?”

“Well, sure. I’m using to tackling things head on, you see. It’s my job. Bodyguard and all that. Assistant to his lordship. Big gal who carries all the smokepowder barrels. Whatever my boss wants me to do, you know? But if I’m trapped inside a bit metal ship…” She shrugged. “Doesn’t do much good to punch the walls.”

Gale decided that he liked Karlach immediately, though he was surprised she would talk so openly about her role on the expedition. It was his understanding that the expedition was rather hush-hush. Then again, they must be two or three levels below the surface by now, and well away from the other sailors. 

“Fear not, Karlach,” he said. “If anything should go wrong in a submersible, I’ll find a way to give you something to hit that isn’t a metal wall. I’d hate for you to feel left out.”

She laughed. “Okay, I like you. I think you’re gonna fit right in with the rest of the team.”

“The rest of the team?”

“Yep. Come on, that’s where we’re headed. Once we’re all together, we’re shipping off.”

The underground passageway soon gave way to thick glass, steel bars, and metal floors, all sloping gently downward. They had emerged in some kind of underwater structure, built out of the side of the island. Dappled sunlight filtered down through the glass ceiling, blue-tinted and faint, while schools of silver fishes drifted silently by, unfazed by the fiery tiefling and the purple-clad mage walking nearby. 

Through the windows, Gale could see a larger glass-and-steel room up ahead, with a branching passageway that connected to a glass-enclosed dock. There, laid out along the side of the enclosed dock, was the biggest submersible he had ever seen. Shaped similarly to the body of a dolphin, complete with fins and a long, trailing tail, it was easily as long as his tower was tall and as wide as a modest estate in Waterdeep. By appearances alone, it looked large enough to house and feed an entire village of people. At one end, the “head” of the body, the structure tapered off into a blunt point. Thick glass made up most of top half of the head, allowing for visibility when navigating the submersible. Or so he assumed. He knew very little about constructs and mechanics.

“Impressive and terrifying, isn’t it?” Karlach asked, glancing over her shoulder at him. “We’ll be inside in a minute.”

“I can’t wait,” he mumbled to himself, though a familiar anxiety thrummed just beneath his skin. He reminded himself that he had a fresh new spellbook with plenty of helpful spells, for breathing underwater, darkvision, and more, and that he would be fine. But even so, the thought of being trapped thousands of meters below the sea with people he had never met before…

It wouldn’t have been his first choice of adventure.

He focused on the task at hand, following Karlach into the wider glass room that connected the passage from the island to the underwater docks. This room was alive with activity, with sailors and workers moving to and fro organizing supplies and getting them down into the submersible. A few, more colorful characters were lounging in various places around the room. Gale was surprised to see a githyanki woman, of all things, among those gathered, as well as a smartly-armored drow woman.

The githyanki lounged casually against a table at the center of the room, arms folded, watching the workers with narrowed eyes, while the drow leaned over a map on the same table, frowning down at it. To the left, a dark-haired half-elven woman stood with a much, much taller, broad-shouldered elf dressed in druid regalia. Both were examining the contents of a crate, which seemed to be full of potions and herbs, and speaking in low tones. Karlach broke off to go talk to a dark-skinned human off to the right, a handsome man who greeted her with a smile and a curious glance Gale’s way. 

The drow woman looked up as Gale drew nearer, eyeing him with sharp, analytical disdain. He could see her crimson gaze flicking quickly between his robes, his pack, his stance, and his face before she straightened and set a hand on her hip.

“Wizard,” she said. “You must be the one with the book.”  It wasn’t a question.

“Excuse me?” he asked, blinking in surprise. 

She ignored him. “Stay here. I will fetch his lordship. It is about time this operation was underway.”

Gale watched her move toward a figure standing at the far end of the room, a dark-haired man watching the proceedings out the window with his hands clasped behind his back. The man leaned his head to listen to whatever the drow woman said and then looked over his shoulder. A quick, charismatic smile stole over the man’s features as he spotted Gale and he quickly made his way over to the table, rounding it to draw nearer to Gale.

“Welcome, welcome,” he said genially, spreading wide his arms. “Just the man we’ve been waiting for. Gale of Waterdeep, I presume?”

“The very same,” Gale responded, trying not to sound as cautious as he felt.

The man continued to smile. His eyes were almost completely black from pupil to iris and his smile, though seemingly geniune, was likewise oily. Gale knew on instinct that this man was used to controlling a room, whether that be through charm or pressure. 

Better to stay on his good side, for now.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man said. He placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head. “I am Lord Enver Gortash."

[meatballhead-usagi]

I’m still having brain rot about Barbarian!Bakugo, but make it Atlantis: The Lost Empire. I’m very, very tempted into make it into a full fic

Sneako peako?

Barbarian!Bakugo who is a prince of a forgotten realm, one most beneath the surface of your world and only spoken about through mythic tales. You, who have dedicated your life to the research of the strange and unusual mythos of this forgotten civilisation, are thrilled when you’re able to finally launch the expedition of your career into finding what exactly happened to cause the disappearance of such a remarkable and powerful civilisation.

Barbarian!Bakugo who has watched your expedition for days. Silent, hidden, curious. He has never encountered anyone from beyond the boundaries of his peoples lands. You sometimes feel as if you’re being watched as you painstakingly read and decipher old glyphs, but have brushed it off as the statues that surround said ruins.

Barbarian!Bakugo who when he opens his mouth to speak his mother tongue is utterly shocked to see that you, a foreigner from a distant world unknown to him or his people, can hold conversation just fine. Even with your native accent shining through you’re not completely butchering the language.

Barbarian!Bakugo who is distrustful and suspicious of why you’re here in this forgotten place, in the crumbling and lifeless old ruins and why are you fascinated by his people and culture. But as the days turn into weeks, and the weeks drag on into months, he cherishes the company you have with one another and learning of what life is like in the other’s world.

Find the link to the masterlist here!!!

[busterheadspace]

Staring My Bad Things Happen Bingo.

I wanna start my Bingo and since we need some fic, request, put a character, the prompt, and how you would like it to go (this one is optional) —-

Left alone to deal with the missiles heading to Washington, Reagan makes a fatal error that leads in the coding that leaves her trapped in a burning building.

Bad Luck Bingo Prompt:Trapped In A Burning Building

—-

Out of all times to abandon her, this was the worst one. The room flashed red as Reagan typed on her laptop as quickly as she could. The big screen screamed “MISSILES INCOMING” with loud beeping that was almost deafening to her ears.

JR had sent The Gang to a building where all the Government Weapons were stored. The building was in the middle of nowhere, miles away from any cities or homes. It was very tall, the only thing surrounding it was a metal fence with barbed wires. Everyone who apparently worked in the building got radiation poisoning from which entered the vents and to the air. Now they were all hospitalized until further notice.

The reason why The Gang were here was just to monitor any attacks or make sure no one hacks their way into getting the weapons. It was on the 5th floor, the middle of the building. Everything was going alright. The Gang just talked and chilled, although a little bored with nothing happening. She was just doing paperwork the whole time where suddenly she heard the alarms. Her head shot up as the warning showed. Two small missiles were shot from somewhere in Asia and were heading toward America, specifically Washington DC. Reagan turned around, freaked out expecting her teams behind to help but they were gone. Only a little Post It Note saying they went to Quinzos for lunch

“How hard is it to hack a freaking missile!” Reagan yelled at herself as she furiously typed. It’s been an hour since it launched and she had to change to somewhere else, or possibly WW3 would start. Her head felt like it was going to explode with the beeping getting louder and quickly. Panic almost overtook her but she continued to stay calm and finally gained control.

The first missile was sent to the ocean, away from Atlantis of course. However the second missile, the coordinates were set wrong. Her hand accidentally tapped on a key and the coordinates changed… to the building she was sitting

“Oh shit.” Reagan tried to get back in but changing the coordinate seemed to have been permanent, not allowing her in. Reagan realized that she shouldn’t be sitting on the 5th floor of a building with a missile coming. She had to get out.

She stood up immediately however the floor shakes and she stumbled onto the floor. A loud noise, like a firecracker, was coming closer and closer as she gets up and falls again

“No no no! Stop! Stop!” Reagan yelled as if it was going to do anything.

The missile hits the building and Reagan feels a blast of very hot heat and the floor collapsing under her. She screamed before she hits the ground and everything turns dark —- “Mmm. Quiznos.” Andre said between bites of his sandwich. No one answered as they were eating their sandwich and snacks they bought from the store. Gigi was driving the van back to the Government Building, Brett in the passenger seat messing with the plastic bag.

“Are you sure it was okay to leave for lunch?” Brett asked.

“Yes honey. How many times do I have to tell you? It’s an hour drive between the building and wherever business is. Beside we got her food too, nothing is going to happe-“

Just as Gigi was about to finish her sentence, they heard a loud crash up ahead. They felt ground shakes and a sudden smell of smoke

“What the hell was that..?” Myc asked.

“Sounded… like a.. missile of some sort” Glenn mumbled, thinking about his time in war. Everyone’s eyes widen and Gigi pushes on the gas pedal, driving as quickly to the building

The building has a large hole on the side in the middle with dark smoke coming. A fire started and the flames were huge coming from the hole.

“Holy shit.” Myc said first. “We are in so much trouble.”

“Yeah.. oh boy, JR is not going to be happy.” Andre replies.

Brett stared at the building for a moment before remembering that, not everyone was out here. His best friend was still in the burning building!

“Reagan’s still in there!” He shouted, grabbing his head. The gang froze for a moment, before Glenn jumps out of the van and runs toward the building.

“ Glenn! What are you doing!” Gigi yelled.

“I’m not letting a companion die in there!” He answered back.

Die? No, no no. Brett wasn’t going to let Reagan die there. He left her there alone despite being on the job. He followed Glenn despite Gigi and Andre’s screaming for them to come back.

“What if you die! What if she’s dead already!”

The first floor was full of smoke. Very thick smoke. It stained Brett’s face and outfit. He looked at Glenn as the hybrid looked at the layout of the building that wasn’t burnt away yet.

“We need to take that hallway, a right and then that’s where we’ll find the stairs. Come on soldier!” Glenn grumbled. Brett nods and takes off to where Glenn had pointed. He wasn’t going to let his best friend die. He wasn’t going to let his Reagan die like this. —- It hurts.

That was the first thought as Reagan gained consciousness. Her eyes didn’t open yet but she tried to move. Everything hurts and she holds back a groan. Something was on top of her and it was too heavy for her weak body to move it away. Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, she only inhales the nasty carbon that makes her cough. That’s when her eyes finally opened and she could see what was happening.

She remembers what happened.. the missle. It hitted the building and now she was stuck under the building rubble with fire all around her.

She had to get out of here. Her arm moves, albeit in a lot of pain and she sees the damage. It’s raw, and bleeding and trying to push the concrete wall on top of her made it impossible. She stopped after a minute after another coughing fit hit her. The air quality was horrible from the fire, it made her lungs ache and her head spin.

This couldn’t be the way Reagan died. Alone in a burning building because her team decided to abandon her for stupid sandwiches.. it wasn’t a happy image for the scientist and it made her heart ache. She was about to close her eyes, just to get away, when she heard.. yelling.

“Reagan! Reagan!” The familiar voice of Brett. She tried to shout.. but she ended up coughing harshly. It seemed to have caught his attention as she could faintly hear footsteps. Glenn was apparently with him as he bent down.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Brett asked. She wanted to respond but even trying to muster a word took so much energy out of her.

“She’s not Brett! Help me move this before we die from the carbon!” Glenn shouted, pulling a large piece of concrete off her body. Brett gives her a quick smile before helping out the veteran. Reagan wanted him to stay next to her but they had to get out of here and she couldn’t do much.

Kicking and throwing pieces away, they finally get it all off her. Reagan forced herself to move but she whimpered. Holy shit it felt worse now that everything was off. Brett was already by her side and picking her up in his arms.

“Crap.Those do not look good.” He mumbled nervously as her gray shirt and pants were turned, showing rough bleeding burns and cuts.

“Worry about that later. Let’s get out of here before the fire gets us.” Glenn mumbled, already moving.

“Okay.. Reagan, just try to stay awake until Andre checks you, okay?” Brett said.

She wanted to say something or even nod but it was too much. Just as they were running down the stairs, Reagan felt the darkness coming back and taking her away from the pain. — “There. That should help her.”

Brett sighed with relief as the mini ventilator was put on Reagan. The woman was still passed out in his arms as they were driving back to Cognito. Myc was the one sitting in the passenger seat while he held Reagan tightly in his arms. He wasn’t going to leave her alone like this, bandaged and bloody

Half an hour later, Reagan stirred with a pain groaned. The first thing she saw was Brett’s smile.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

“Like shit..” Reagan replies bitterly.

“We’re going to get you to the medical department once we get back to Cognito.” Andre added on. However Reagan glared at him, and everyone else in the van.

“You guys., left me..” She mumbled angrily. “When I needed you guys the most.. you just disappeared.. and...I almost just died in there”

Her eyes were full of pain as she thought about almost panicking in the weapon’s room. The heat from it. Waking up in so much pain that she couldn’t move. It was stupid that she was upset by this.

“We’re not leaving you again.” Brett reassured her, grabbing her bandage hand. “Right guys?”

In union, their coworkers sigh.

“Yeah. We’ll be smarter about our breaks.” Gigi said. “We’re don’t want a dead body on our hands,”

Reagan snickered, wincing as movement hurt. Brett noticed and ran a hand through her hair. It relaxed her immediately, her body sinking into him

“Get some rest. We’ll wake you up once we’re back.”

“You better do..” Reagan mumbled before passing out once more.

[astrodances]

First Night

Back with the next shot of Tales of Gold! This is based on a little headcanon of mine that Scrooge managed to grab a handful of gold in Atlantis to give to the kids after.

Special shout-out to @galoots, whose daily posts and various fics about Scrooge and Donald bonding inspired the latter half of this one-shot. I hope you don’t mind me tagging you, galoots, but your blog is giving me life, and the world needs to know (and follow you for heart-melting fluff).

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading!

“What a day” didn’t begin to describe the exhaustion Scrooge was feeling.

In the span of a weekend, he’d met his great-nephews, fought several ancient evils, found the jewel of Atlantis amid a flurry of perils, and one-upped Glomgold. His joints would definitely be feeling this one in the morning.

It felt good, though, especially considering his nephews were moving into the mansion now. He’d miss the type of energy their presence brought, and he was already anticipating future adventures with them all.

As the day wound down, they all sat around the dining room table, eagerly chatting about their adventure and planning out the logistics of living together. The lights were dimmed to a cozy setting, encouraging them all to go to bed but to take their time doing so. Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby would all be camping out in the living room that night, since the boys’ room still needed to be set up. Donald would be staying in a guest room for “one night only,” he insisted, just until Launchpad could transport his boat from the marina to Scrooge’s pool.

As tired as they were, no one wanted the night to end.

“Movie nights! Oh, we should have movie nights!” Dewey suggested, sliding a bottle of juice between his palms on the table.

Huey scribbled down his suggestion in the notebook he had in front of him, while Louie added, “Definitely should combine that with pizza night!”

Scrooge smirked at how easily they were integrating their lives into their new surroundings. He bit his tongue to keep himself from adding game nights into the mix, opting instead to bite into the apple pie Mrs. Beakley had made. Even he knew that it was too soon to introduce them to that beast.

By the time Beakley returned to the dining room and announced that she had gathered enough blankets and pillows in the living room for the kids, Scrooge had finished his pie. She picked up his and the others’ plates and disappeared into the kitchen.

As the boys and Webby made to leave the table, he stopped them. There was still one more order of business to attend to.

Standing up with a stretch and taking a few steps towards them, Scrooge gathered them into a circle with a hand around their backs, taking extra notice of the way their eyes sparkled with childlike curiosity. He’d been waiting all day for this moment, but now that it was here, he was glad there were no other adults in the room.

This weekend had been special, no doubt about it. He had his family back in his life, but just as important, they’d gone on their first adventure together. It was something that should’ve happened years ago, a fact that he knew would be haunting him for awhile, but nevertheless, the occasion needed to be marked.

“I’ve got something for the lot of you,” Scrooge began, taking his hand from Webby’s shoulder and reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out four gold coins and held them in the middle of their huddle, giving them a slight shake to make them glint.

The children gaped in awe, with a sense of familiar excitement overtaking Dewey’s features.

“These coins are from the treasure room of Atlantis. I managed to grab a handful of them on the way out after we got the real jewel, thanks to Dewey here,” Scrooge continued, pausing only to ruffle Dewey’s hair good-heartedly, who pushed him off with a laugh. “It was dangerous and took a lot of unexpected turns, but you all went above and beyond, and should be proud. I know I am.”

Smiling, he plucked the coins from his palm and handed one to each duckling surrounding him.

“A first adventure is something to remember, to cherish,” he ruminated. “It whets the appetite for more, gives you a taste of the thrill. No matter how many we go on, this one will always be special. And that’s why I want you to have these, as a reminder of our first adventure together.”

The kids marveled at the gold in their hands as Scrooge spoke, but when he finished, they collectively launched themselves at him in a group hug, which he heartily returned.

After saying good night, Scrooge ushered the kids out of the dining room and towards the living room so they could go to sleep. As he did so, he caught sight of Donald standing outside by the pool through the window, and remembered the rest of the gold weighing down his pocket.

He still had one more coin to dole out.

The low illumination of garden lights guided his footsteps to the pool, which itself lit up with an ethereal late-night glow. Crickets chirped lazily on the fringes of the courtyard, singing of summers past when his young niece and nephew would go for midnight swims and wake their uncle with their merrymaking, only for him to join them in the end. Afterwards, they would cuddle together at the edge of the pool, their feet dangling in the water, and stargaze while nature played its soundtrack.

The memory stirred a sense of nostalgia in Scrooge as he approached Donald, who now stood alone where they once laid together, his head tilted back towards the stars and the underside of his beak lit up by the pool lights.

"Hey, lad." The gentleness in Scrooge's voice surprised even himself as he joined his nephew. There was ten years of pent-up silence standing between them, something Donald was very clearly still aware of, given how he had yelled at him earlier about the Spear of Selene. But then again, he'd also been on board with the boys moving in afterwards, so that had to count for something. This could go either way.

"Hey," came his answer. Donald sounded more tired than anything, which was understandable, especially considering he'd been with Glomgold for most of the trip to Atlantis.

Scrooge winced at the thought. "I'm sorry my rivalry with Glomgold put you in harm's way. You, and the boys," he said awkwardly before he realized what he was doing.

Donald shrugged. "You got us out of it, didn't you?"

"Heh, I think we both know Dewey deserves the credit there. They all do, actually."

Donald hummed in agreement with the point, and then there was a beat. Their eyes watched the stars through a clear sky, but their hearts strayed to the empty spot on Scrooge's other side, knowing that its usual occupant was lost somewhere far above their heads, a cosmic angel. She would've been proud of this weekend.

"Ye raised them well."

Donald finally turned to Scrooge, stunned. "Huh?"

"The boys, ye raised them well."

Caught off-guard by the sudden compliment, Donald shied into a blush and could only stutter, "I- well- Th-thanks."

Scrooge left it at that, knowing that now wasn't the time nor place to continue that particular conversation, lest they descend into trading verbal punches of blame. It was too soon to risk that. Instead, he latched onto the quiet kindness that had settled between them and changed the subject. "I gave the kids a gold coin each from the treasure room, to mark their first adventure."

Unsure of what kind of response his uncle was looking for, Donald simply asked, "Oh yeah?"

Nodding, Scrooge reached into his pocket and pulled out another coin. "I know it wasn't your first adventure, but...here." He offered the coin to Donald, who took it with a hesitating hand before eyeing it suspiciously.

"What's the catch?" he wondered aloud.

Scrooge laughed and couldn't stop himself from jostling Donald into a one-armed hug against his side. "No catch," he explained. "Just something to remember their- our first adventure together with them."

Donald stiffened in surprise at Scrooge's touch, but gradually melted into the hug, letting his arm stay around his shoulder. He stared at the coin, trying to ignore the feeling in his gut that this was wrong, that Della should be getting this instead, not him. He wrapped his fingers around it and sucked in a breath, vowing that he was accepting it on her behalf. Glancing back up at Scrooge, he whispered, "Thanks, Uncle."

"Don't mention it, laddie."

Together, they looked back up at the sky, watching the twinkling stars for all of four seconds before Donald let out a yawn that he barely caught with the back of his fist to his beak.

Scrooge patted his shoulder with a slight chuckle. "Ye should get some sleep."

"No argument here," Donald agreed as his feet automatically turned towards the mansion. "Good night, Uncle Scrooge."

"Good night, my boy," he returned, watching Donald's figure disappear through the back door. He then turned back to the pool, catching the reflection of the rising half moon against the water before looking up at the satellite itself. The crickets were still chirping and for a moment, he felt the peace that only those lost summer nights could bring.

Sighing in satisfaction, Scrooge reached into his coat once again and let his fingers linger on the two remaining coins within. He took out the one he'd deemed for himself and flipped it in the air with a flourish. The memories of the adventure and the promise of more to come glinted along the gold's edge, causing him to smile.

This was one coin that wasn't going to the Money Bin.

[pandoraships]

420 views!

Well I promised myself I would do something special for 400 views.  I figure if you keep coming back I should  thank people for their support.  So before I launch into my treat I want to make sure to say: 

If you are looking for a sound track for the Fiction please see after the cut! 

Also Link to the fan fic here

When I write part of my pre-prep is to make a music list for various scenes and characters. Like an inspiration board. That way I can sort of get a flow to the typing I am doing, or if I feel stuck I can get myself unstuck by listening to the music and getting back in the scene. 

I never liked when people put in little stop breaks into fiction, it often breaks the immersion for me, but I also sometimes wish I could just insert a sound track into the page you are looking that will fade in and out as you scroll down the screen. 

So in the vein I have sort of organized the songs I listen to into a curated list. This is the “sound track” for the general feel for Shards of Power : Awakening. I’ve given some small commentary about each song, and they are in some “order”. All of these are available on spotify. 

Shards of Power: Awakening- A “mixtape”. 

1. There is a war going on for your mind - Flobots 

The Seers, who you will be meeting very soon, are the True Villains of our setting. They are the men and women who control everything we interact with on day to day basis. The Concillium fight against them, and this small interlude is something I feel that the Free council broadcast, hoping that someone out there still cares enough to listen. I mentally call my music “ Musutafu Awakened Radio” because I like to pretend that Zero is broadcasting this to try to find someone he is desperate to awaken. 

2. Defend Atlantis -Flobots 

This ultimately is the explanation of the world. It’s got some really excellent segments that explain the Orders best.. It’s like this entire thing was custom built for the World of Darkness.  The relevant segments are as follows : 

Free Council - From “ We flow like water” To “ Many tales radiate from one nexus.“  The Free council is the counter cultural revolution, and they believe that Humans, more than anything, hold the key to magic. They reject the idea that a chosen few know the truth and believe that the many tales people tell all reflect the true world in some way. 

Mysterium- From “That which creates Life” To  “ with nothing left to plunder “. The Mysterium is the idea that one should be beholden not to a faction but to the Truth of the world. They are the “mad Scientist” Mage that is determined to make the world better through finding the scraps of magic and figuring out how to recreate them. They want to do this to save the world from it’s fate. 

Sliver Ladder- From “For Centuries” to  The most diverse aversions when I first channel”. The Silver Ladder are corporatism incarnate, but they believe that stories, laws, and history make magic, and that upholding them and being judged not on merit alone is ultimate way to unite people.  

The Adamantine Arrow - From “ Is that all you hold for a warriors roll” to “ Only sea to shining sea.” The Arrow are incredibly service oriented and see themselves as the point of last defense. They believe that they as mages should not rule but serve as a defense for Sleepers until the world becomes one.

The Guardians-  From  “And survival hinged on the ascent by the humble” to “ And the voices were many but we spoke as one “. The Guardians are a hard group to understand, but they believe that the world is by nature corrupt and corrupts those around them. They believe magic needs to be controlled and placed in the right hands, and that they stand as a guardian against the corruption. They believe that if they stand their ground and route out corruption they can help make sure the right people get in place to storm the gates. 

3.Farthest star - VnV nation 

This is the awakening song for every path, though I most often place Obrimos under this particular song. It’s very broad and light and hopeful in a way that the act of Awakening is. 

4. Handlebars -Flobots 

The feeling of doing anything that comes after awakening is something every mage goes through. Having access to the unlimited cosmic power of the universe is a hell of rush, but the problem is the crash. You can’t get enough to do what really matters, and you could destroy the world in trying to save it. 

5. Uprising - Muse 

The understanding that their limits are imposed by the world around them and the Archmages that inhabit the Supernal world created this world leads most Concillium mages to feel like they need to rebel. The alienation of know you could have the power promised of people weren’t keeping it from you is what drives many of even the oldest mages. 

6. Freak Radio Edit - Timmy Trumpet

The Concilium is a group of people who reject the world around them and they tend to connect over their feeling of being freaks. It’s a fun song, and I like to think that Zero has done that one “When X isn’t home”  Tictok thing with Deku once. 

7. Shatter me- Lindsey Sterling

As a mage grows in power it tends to have a feeling of being locked into place. More often than not they are kept in control by those around them but they are acutely aware that “ If I break the glass, then I'll have to fly //There's no one to catch me if I take a dive “

8. A Moment of Silence- Streetlight manifesto

Mages often come to a point where they begin to doubt if they can throw out the Archmages in the Supernal world, if they can make it work. They regret having lost the comfort of being a sleeper. And they realize quickly that Casting isn’t always what they want to be... 

9. My Demons - Starset 

Casting has a down side, it opens you out into the open for the Abyss to feed off your magic and infect you. If you cast enough in a reckless way you can eventually become tainted by the abyss. You can break in ways that can kill yourself, or worse make you turn your powers on everything around you. 

10. I’m Alive -Becca

And yet you have to keep going, because you are are there, and you have to fight, even if everything goes wrong, because refusing to give in is what being awakened is. 

11.  We are Giants - Lindsey Sterling 

And when a group of them struggle, when they connect and find themselves in the same path as those who understand them they can do anything. Also this is a fun song and I love the music video that goes along with it. 

12. Warriors- Imagine Dragons. 

Another song about gathering together to do good, with the understanding that sacrifices will happen but that if one day it changes the world it’s worth it. 

13. One for the Money- Escape the Fate 

The marching song for those who want to change that world. For some reason it lets me imagine mages all charging upwards across the abyss, spells going off. 

14. A moment of Violence- Streetlight Manifesto

This is a good wrapping point, and I like the ending trumpets fading back into the first song. It’s an awesome transition. 

Bonus  for having 42 kudos (because that is the answer to Life the universe and everything) I’ve included some background music that I use for fight scenes and exciting moments that don’t fit the over all mage theme: 

1. Strange Games- Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles 

I love this techno beat with the psychedelic sound and flutes. It’s very much what I listen to when I type for the Southern Courts or more fantastical moments. It also doubles as any time we have Bakugo on stage fighting. 

2. Song of storm and Fire - Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles 

This is my fight music song, coupled with the next few. It’s very broad and powerful, the vocals adding a sort of angelic sense to the pounding beat, and the slow soft break half way through the song is always mentally a “freeze frame” for me.   Normally matched to fights involving Izuku. 

3. Break the Sword of Justice- Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles 

Do you all see a pattern here? If you want some top tier music that you can type to that isn’t lyric driven you want  Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles osts. Sadly Spotify and a lot of other places don’t like giving us access them. Oh well I get at them. 

Heavier than it’s prior counter part it is a lot of thrumming strings and frantic movement. I like to think of this as Kirishima’s music for fighting.

I don’t actually have an instrumental for Todoroki yet, but To be honest he’s probably some epic japanese peice I haven’t heard yet. 

4. Finally This song mix. Yes this is Gravity falls but the two songs are perfect for angst. Give the artist some love!  

Thank you again for reading and Thank you again for your kind words and attentions. I will have the next chapter out! 

And if you want specific Sound tracks please feel free to ask! 

[fire-fira]

Unstoppable Until I Break

PART 1

(PART 2)

[Unstoppable Until I Break Ao3 version]

Author’s Note:  This lovely/brutal La’gaan-centric fic was written for @yjficexchange​‘s Mini Big Bang. This thing is loooong-- long enough that I have to break it into two parts in the interests of actually posting it on time. So without further ado, I give you the first part of Unstoppable Until I Break.

Take a look at @perichat‘s [art piece] that goes with this fic!

And as soon as I get the second part done and posted both parts will be linked to each other. n.n

(Also, for the sake of Spanish speakers, know that ‘migas‘ is the canon Atlantean word for ‘impure,’ so when you run into that word it isn’t what immediately comes to mind. lol)

Summary: La’gaan has survived and endured through more than most, but when a hostage situation in Atlantis means he may have to save a living nightmare, he is left with his thoughts and the question of just how far he is willing to go...

Trigger Warning: Fictionalized racism, discrimination, violence, sea-nazis. Word Count: 7,332

It was a routine mission briefing; a hostage situation in Atlantis, routine procedure required, get in and get the hostages out as needed, even if there was the possibility that it might take several days. That was it. That’s all it should have been. And then Kaldur dropped the bomb: the son of the consul magistrate of Poseidonis was one of the hostages. For La’gaan anything else that had been said was drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He may have looked like he was paying attention, but he wasn’t. He hadn’t even needed to hear the name to know who the consul’s son was— and the idea of being put in a position where he would be required to save that pile of festering shark bait was enough to make him feel sick.

The moment Kaldur dismissed them to pack in preparation to leave early the next morning, La’gaan stalked out and headed for his room. The training room would have been preferable, at least then he wouldn’t feel any remorse about breaking anything, but he didn’t want anyone seeing him explode. He didn’t even bother processing if any of the others followed him down the hall. There was just the sound of blood pounding in his ears.

His door closed. He had enough sense to turn to the console next to his door to lock it and turn on the sound-proofing. A moment. Two.

“Ekstassa enthegias!” His words were punctuated by a resounding boom as he punched the wall. The vibration had to be felt out in the hall, soundproofing notwithstanding. That the dent in the wall wasn’t a hole was nothing short of a miracle. He breathed heavily, thin-lipped with his nose flaring and his fins bristling with rage, trying to fight back the urge to have a screaming rant or start breaking everything in his room.

He wasn’t worth it. Destroying everything he had taken so long to build and accumulate, when before the Conservatory La’gaan had come from nothing, would only make things worse. He pulled away from the wall and walked across the room to scoop up one of his various projects from his work table— a spear-hook carved from whale bone that he had slowly been inlaying with pearl and abalone shell— and flopped onto the nearby chair. If he had ever needed to give his hands something to do to help him calm down, this was one of those moments. Although the idea of using the spear-hook on Ronal was tempting…

La’gaan set to work sharpening the hook and making the outer edge serrated.

***

La’gaan had always been marked as being from one of the outer provinces of Atlantis. It was obvious in the way he spoke, how he carried himself, and how self-sufficient he had always insisted on being— to say nothing of how he looked. What he never told anyone at the Conservatory was that he was from The Bones; a province worth almost nothing and so far out on the borders of Atlantis that it might as well have been forgotten. Depending on who a person talked to it might even be said that The Bones wasn’t part of Atlantis at all, never mind the fact that it had been at the edge of the original continent before it sank. It was the sort of place that was regarded as the realm of the dead, the dying, and the unwanted. It was the sort of place the purists wanted wiped off the map, and every inhabitant along with it.

Though he couldn’t hide the fact that he was from one of the outer provinces, La’gaan had done everything he could to hide the fact that he was from The Bones.    With how he looked he had known that he’d face plenty of harassment; having where he came from known would have been worse.

So when he heard an off-hand comment pitched so he could hear it on his way to class, he wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t surprised to hear the words, “Looks like the Conservatory is going down in quality. I wasn’t aware they would allow a tursus in,” but the slur stung all the same.

He drifted to a stop, his fins bristling, wanting to turn and tear into the bottom-sucking hagfish, but he knew he shouldn’t. La’gaan knew that if he got into it he would only invite more trouble. He knew—

“Ohhh, looks like an impure guppy lost his way. Do you think it overheard me? Hey tursus, if you can hear me you should leave. We don’t need your kind at the Conservatory,” the smug tone called out. Again that slur, and the even worse slur of ‘impure.’

‘Fuck it.’ One moment La’gaan was still, and the next he spun around and launched himself at the smirking blond bastard, the water around them churning into froth.

***

That incident had been just one of many encounters with Ronal, and while the outcome of the fight had been a small victory it had been a short-lived one. A brief smirk flickered over his face as he tested the edge he was sharpening on the spear-hook with his thumb; the memory of the fight was still satisfying even after all these years. The impact of his fist connecting with Ronal’s face, instinctively manipulating the water to hit Ronal from multiple directions, the satisfaction of successfully dodging most of the hits Ronal aimed at him, the sensation of his claws slicing down Ronal’s face, the small plume of red and the smell of blood in the water…

La’gaan had gotten in trouble for it of course (it was generally frowned on for Conservatory students to get into fights outside of combative magic classes), but it didn’t erase the satisfaction he’d gotten from serving Ronal’s non-existent tailfin to him on a silver platter— especially since he’d been 10 at the time and Ronal had been 15. It was just unfortunate Ronal learned from that incident to not underestimate him. La’gaan learned the hard way that someone who hated but didn’t underestimate him was far more dangerous than one who did.

The edge of the hook didn’t feel sharp enough yet.

***

La’gaan hadn’t been at the Conservatory long, certainly not long enough to have gotten friends in his opinion, but here he was in Lori’s dorm, perched on the edge of Lori’s sleeping pod with Lori fussing over his bruises, split lip, and the various small cuts he’d gotten during the fight. Blubber floated nearby, wanting to help but feeling useless because his bulk made the necessary fine-detail movements of patching up La’gaan almost impossible.

“That was reckless,” Lori said. She had at least waited to start throwing recriminations at him for having even gotten into the fight until they got into her room, but that hadn’t stopped her from scolding him after she saw him swim past the infirmary wing of the Conservatory just as she had been coming out from one of her classes. Almost everyone in the Conservatory had to take beginning-level medical classes, the idea being that if everyone knew first aid then if an accident happened the damage could be minimized. Lori had taken more of an interest than most. There had been some debate, but she hadn’t been able to argue him into actually going into the infirmary; the compromise was letting her patch him up in her room.

“The shark-bait had it coming,” La’gaan retorted.

“La’gaan, you picked a fight with the consul magistrate’s son.”

“He could have been the Neptune-damned prince and I wouldn’t have cared! He deserved it,” he snapped. He had no idea who or what a consul magistrate was, and he didn’t really care. What mattered was that the pale glowing-hagfish paid for what he’d said, regardless of whose son he was.

Lori frowned and her hands stilled. “…La’gaan, I don’t think you get it. The consul magistrates have a lot of power. Ronal’s mother is the consul magistrate of Poseidonis, which makes her the most powerful of the consul magistrates. I know you’re from the outer provinces so you don’t get how bad that can be for you, but listen to me: If Ronal takes it to her and she decides she doesn’t like you then she can make things really bad for you.”

La’gaan huffed, a small current of water escaping his mouth in forceful puff. “You didn’t hear what he said,” he said in a tone close to a growl.

Lori looked torn between wanting to glare at La’gaan and being worried. “La’gaan… I’ve heard it all before. Blubber’s heard it all before. When you’re like we are, especially here in Poseidonis, you don’t want attention. There are bad people who will hurt you if you fight them. And if you get into a bad enough fight with someone ‘pure’ then it won’t matter what you say, because the city guards will almost always side with someone ‘pure’ over one of us.”

“So what? I’m supposed to just ignore it? Just put up with someone treating me like hagfish-bait?!” he said, slipping into a snarl. Lori’s lips pressed into a thin line of frustrated concern.

Blubber finally spoke up, though he was fidgeting uncomfortably— unsurprising considering the fact that La’gaan tried to keep his temper in check around them. “Things are different in the outer provinces. Here… there aren’t a lot of us. Bad things can happen if we’re not careful. My papa once told me that we have to look out for each other, that someone who fights too hard can make a lot of powerful people angry, and if they’re angry enough…” His voice dwindled to nothing as he looked down.

“…If they’re angry enough then we die,” Lori finished quietly.

La’gaan scowled, the water churning angrily around him for a moment or two thanks to a brief spike of magic in response to his mood. “…If the ekstassa couldn’t kill me, I don’t think they can.”

Ekstassa was a word from the outer provinces for an illness, a wasting disease that led to cracked and bleeding skin, blood seeping from under scales, body-wracking coughs, exhaustion, near-constant pain, and (in some) even seizures. It almost always only happened when someone couldn’t get enough food or the right kind, or if the person had already been sick with something else. It was more than just starvation or malnutrition, it was a sickness that waited for an opportunity like an octopus waiting around the edges to steal a kill. Even worse, it was contagious and could be spread to anyone who came near enough to someone who had it. And since it was an illness that required something else to be wrong, it was also almost always fatal.

Neither Lori or Blubber knew what to say.

***

Sometimes La’gaan almost wished that he’d had enough sense to listen to Lori and Blubber’s warnings. If he had, then it was entirely possible that he wouldn’t have gone through as much as he had at Ronal’s hands. On the other hand, if he’d tried to keep his head down the way Lori and Blubber recommended then things might have turned out worse— especially for everyone else who wasn’t ‘pure’ around him.

He turned the spear-hook over in his hands and looked along the edge, checking for rough patches that would impede the sharpness of it. He wanted it to be smooth and sharp enough along the outside edge that even after he added the serrations it would glide through the water like one of Artemis’s arrows through the air. With a frown he noticed that the inlaid pearl and abalone shell already in place would have to be temporarily removed in order to create the serrations the way he wanted.

“Damn it,” he grumbled before reaching for a tool on his work table that vaguely resembled an awl. He hated backtracking on his projects, but that’s what came from changing the design. Originally La’gaan wanted to make something closer to what he remembered of the spear-hooks his father used to make, albeit a little more elaborate— light and efficient and able to sheer through flesh like water and then catch in place— but now… While he was trying to tell himself that he wouldn’t actually use it on Ronal, didn’t truly want to, he couldn’t deny that he was altering it so that if used it would inflict maximum damage.

The first pearl came free in his hand, carefully pried from its setting.

***

After the fight, word had quickly spread that Ronal had had his ass handed to him by a ten-year-old. Other students eyed La’gaan with more respect, having gotten the clear message that this young trench-swimmer wasn’t to be messed with, and at the same time it was as if a lot of the other kisegra— the ‘non-pure’— relaxed a little more than usual. Despite that, it was obvious to some that it was only a matter of time before Ronal tried something; they watched him warily.

La’gaan, on the other hand, largely had felt the matter was over and done with. True, he’d gotten in trouble for the fight, but when nothing more than a standard punishment resulted from it (several weeks of having to help work on maintaining the Conservatory by prying off barnacles from the exterior walls and the like), he had just shrugged it off. It was only about as annoying as trying to hunt a crab hiding in coral and he’d done that enough in his short life for it to not matter all that much; plus, it gave him the excuse to temporarily put aside his more infuriating studies and focus on something practical. In all honesty he would have never imagined that doing something he’d once done just for survival would be relaxing. He wasn’t about to admit it to anyone else though. He didn’t want to give anyone any fuel for calling him a backwater trench-swimmer if he could help it.

As such, he was thoroughly engrossed in chiseling barnacles off the wall when several ‘pure’ students happened to swim by with Ronal among them. “Oh look, it’s actually being useful,” Ronal sneered.

“Ronal, stop. You just got in trouble over this-” one of the others hissed only to get ignored.

“I bet it feels good to actually be useful for once. Instead of being the bottom-scraping sava-”

La’gaan finally snapped his head around to glare at Ronal as he snarled out, “You might want to rethink picking a fight with me, chum. I seem to recall last time you were shark bait next to me.” He pointed the chisel in his hand at Ronal. “As much as you want to act like you’re ‘better’ than me because of how Neptune-damned ‘pure’ you are, you’re lower than shark shit. You want to act like you’re superior— then explain why you’re scared of facing me alone. You can’t, and you won’t, because you’re so damned scared that I’m ‘savage’ enough that I’ll use this chisel on your face.”

The other ‘pure’ students were shocked, their expressions ranging from disbelief to anger. Ronal narrowed his eyes. “You’d better watch yourself, you little tursus. Someone might think you’re getting a little too full of yourself and might decide to beat it out of you.”

La’gaan snorted. “In all the deeps it won’t be you. Keep swimming shark bait. Maybe if you swim far enough you’ll realize that there are some fights you can’t win.”

For a moment Ronal looked like he wanted to throw himself at La’gaan, but the one who had tried to talk him down placed a hand on his arm and muttered, “Come on Ronal. He’s not worth it. Let’s go.”

Ronal continued glaring at La’gaan for a moment or two before he sneered, “You got lucky this time migas. Next time you won’t be so lucky.” With that he turned and swam away angrily with the others in his wake.

It was only after they were out of sight that how dangerous the situation had been hit La’gaan full-force. He’d been alone with them— completely alone— and had it gone differently it might have been seven against one. And that slur again, freely used without any of those ‘pure’ bastards speaking up to protest how casually Ronal called him ‘impure,’ was all the more proof that if things had turned physical then La’gaan wouldn’t have had much of a chance against them. And if things had gone too far? If they had actually killed him? La’gaan didn’t think they would have let his body be found. There were plenty of predators out in the deeps that would have considered him a small snack. As he turned back to chiseling the barnacles off the wall, he tried to ignore the way he was trembling.

***

That was the first time La’gaan had actually felt afraid while he was at the Conservatory. It wasn’t a feeling he’d enjoyed. Where others reacted to that fear by withdrawing and trying to draw as little attention to themselves as possible, La’gaan reacted with a refusal to tolerate being treated as ‘less than,’ fueled and reinforced by an uncompromising rage. From his perspective, if he had to feel afraid at all it was better to channel it all into anger rather than fear. With anger there was strength, there was the ability and willingness to push back when he got pushed; with fear there was only paralysis and feeling like an even bigger target. So every time he got pushed, he pushed back; he would snarl, be more than willing to get into a fight if given enough reason to, and would not back down whenever Ronal or anyone else tried to start a fight with him. Really, it was amazing that he didn’t get expelled.

It was only now, with the perspective of the years behind him, that it occurred to him that the main reason probably at least in part had to do with the fact that the queen herself was the person behind his being able to attend to Conservatory in the first place. He didn’t like thinking about it, but if Mera hadn’t picked him up off the street then it was unlikely that he would have ever been allowed entrance. The thought that he’d been kept as a student rather than expelled outright due to Mera’s influence alone was one that had crossed his mind before, but it was one he didn’t care to accept. As it was, he’d been fortunate that even now only a few people knew about Mera’s role in his education. Had Ronal or any of the other purists known, they would have used it as just one more way to attack him— because when they had realized that attacking him one-on-one directly wasn’t going to work, they started getting creative.

The first of the serrations was taking on a sturdy but sharp point under his hands.

***

La’gaan had been wary about others since even before he’d arrived at the Conservatory, and with good reason. However, despite himself La’gaan had slowly accumulated a small group of friends— most of them for some reason pulled in by the fact that he refused to back down when attacked and he’d been developing a habit of getting involved when others were being harassed. Lori and Blubber each, for all that they were much more toned down than he was, had something of a fearless streak (or else they were able to tell the difference between La’gaan’s occasionally snarly disposition and that of people who were genuinely mean before they ever really started talking to him), so it made sense that they had been the first to get close to him.

Then there had been the fact that a kamala (what the purists might refer to as ‘half-pure’ or ‘half-breed’) by the name of Kaldur’ahm had taken to backing him up in some of his fights. La’gaan hadn’t known what to think of that; both because there were plenty of kamala who were hostile to other kisegra because it put distance between them and the ‘less pure,’ and because it hadn’t taken long for La’gaan to find out that Kaldur’ahm was dangerously close to being the adopted son of Mera and Orin. The only thing that had led La’gaan to truly start relaxing around Kaldur’ahm was that in response to La’gaan’s sarcastic comment about Kaldur being a ‘prince’ when he’d found out, Kaldur had frowned and retorted with, “If you call me that then you are going to force me to drop out or else you might start a war. And while I do find it admirable that you do not tolerate mistreatment of yourself or others, starting a war would be excessive.” (It was thanks to that that La’gaan found out about Kaldur’s subtle, but devious, sense of humor.)

Even more unexpected were A’lansha and Tula, two of the ‘pure’ who seemed to have followed in Kaldur’ahm’s wake when it came to backing up La’gaan. In a lot of ways Tula was a lot like Lori, even if she was a little less subdued. La’gaan firmly decided he liked her the day Tula went on a frustrated rant about how she wished that all “egotistical bigoted ‘pure’ floating piles of garbage” would be stupid enough to swim into the jaws of an a’lansha. A’lansha, more frequently known as Garth, found the prospect mildly disgusting even though he’d known Tula had been referring to the hyper-intelligent (and frequently obnoxious) sharks that were his namesake rather than him—especially since he seemed to share their king’s ability with communicating with fish and the like, and just a few days prior had spent close to two hours arguing with one to try to get it to stop lurking around the edges of the Conservatory grounds and making people nervous. Apparently he felt that every a’lansha he’d ever run into had a sick sense of humor and weren’t fit for polite company. La’gaan was more amazed that Garth had even gotten an a’lansha to listen to him in the first place. (It was no secret that if any a’lansha had hands they would be even more infuriating than they already were, when they weren’t actually a threat. It made La’gaan wonder in silence what in all the deeps Garth’s parents had been thinking when they named him for the sharks.) While at times La’gaan didn’t know quite what to think about A’lansha, his well-meaning but occasionally exasperated demeanor resonated with him in a way that he would have never expected to share in common with one of the ‘pure.’ That, and his banter with Kaldur quickly became a source of amusement for La’gaan.

Then there was Topo; quiet, calm, kind-hearted Topo who just wanted peace and quiet and for everyone to get along. Of all the kisegra in the Conservatory he was one of the least human-looking (at the very least he was a close second to Blubber), and he was hyper-aware of it. While Lori and Blubber were each from the inner provinces, Topo was from Poseidonis itself. If Lori and Blubber tried to encourage La’gaan to keep his head down because of the bad things they had heard could happen, Topo kept his head down because of the things he knew and had seen happen. He was so quiet and skilled at fading into the background in fact, that La’gaan had honestly been surprised when Topo drifted his direction with increasing frequency. Truth be told, La’gaan had honestly been concerned that he would scare Topo off just by being himself, that he was too intimidating for Topo to feel safe around— and while he wouldn’t admit it aloud, to a certain extent that thought had stung. He knew what people who were actual threats were like, so the idea that he might be seen that way by someone he didn’t wish any harm to was an uncomfortable one. It turned out that Topo had no such problems. Yes, Topo had been quiet and cautious at first, but after hanging around La’gaan for a few months he started deliberately seeking out his snarly friend and lit up whenever he saw La’gaan. Then again, La’gaan also turned out to be one of the few who had no problem with listening to Topo ramble on and on about something he was interested in (even if sometimes it floated over his head).

“I’m telling you, if you look back at the history and do some real digging Aesal’s actions are weird. Not bad, just weird. I mean he deliberately made Thahselphus and Ahm’tashera angry right before the Klii’ehdal Ball, and then went and hid in a storage pod for an hour before he eventually came drifting out dressed in Consul Theafla’s over-the-top clothes and started pretending to flirt at both of them so that they would get in a fight in front of everyone— just to prove how unfit either of them was to inherit the throne. And he knew he himself would never even be considered!” Topo enthused. The two of them were out beyond the Conservatory grounds with their odd mixed group of friends during their mid-day break from classes and eating lunch. Well, La’gaan, Lori, Blubber, Kaldur’ahm, Tula, and Garth were eating lunch while Topo was going on about one of the more bizarre incidents in Atlantean history between random bites.

La’gaan snorted after he finished a bite and said, “Sounds like a lot of trouble for nothing.”

“That’s just the thing, it wasn’t for nothing; it actually worked. It was just one of the most completely overdone things he could have possibly done! Do you realize how completely unnecessary it was for him to deliberately pick a fight with both of them before turning around and disguising himself in the most overdone way possible and then go back and start flirting at them so they would get in a fight over him? And they fell for it! Somehow they looked at those clothes— and every piece ever done of Consul Theafla’s clothing choices just look waaaayyyy overdone, like some type of land-dweller overdone— and they apparently thought ‘Oh she looks pretty and she likes me’ enough to the point that they got in a fight over him in front of everyone. And he was their distant cousin! And they didn’t even recognize him!”

“I’ve seen pictures of those clothes. They were so bad,” Lori agreed.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘atrocious’,” Blubber added.

A quiet laugh erupted from Garth and he muttered, “Note to self: If I ever want to avoid obnoxious politicians I just need to borrow the clothes of some Consul who dresses atrociously.”

“Garth, you may be pretty, but you’re not that pretty,” Tula teased.

“Lies. I’ve seen portraits of Aesal. If he can pull it off, so can I.”

“But why would you even want to?” La’gaan asked, torn between wanting to laugh and looking at Garth as if he’d lost his mind. Really, the more time he spent around Garth the more he had a hard time believing that Garth didn’t at least have some kisegra relatives.

“Because it’s a proven way to avoid obnoxious politicians, duh,” he retorted with a grin. “You honestly think with as close to the royal family as I am that I won’t have to deal with politicians? You’re lucky. If they start trying to be a pain in the tailfin to you, you can just swim away and ignore them. Me? At the rate I’m going I need every escape route I can get.”

“As much as you go on about needing escape routes, sometimes I wonder if you really want the position we are both seeking.” Something else that hadn’t taken long for La’gaan, Lori, Blubber, and Topo to find out was that both Kaldur’ahm and Garth were being considered for becoming their king’s protégé. Tula was also up for consideration, but she hadn’t yet decided if she wanted to go through with it. Which was even more reason for La’gaan to jokingly refer to them as ‘unofficial royalty.’ Garth may have once laughingly accused La’gaan of trying to get him assassinated.

“Of course I want the position,” Garth said in mock-offense, “I just also have a strong survival instinct and a really low tolerance for others’ shark-shi-”

“Garth.” The warning tone was simultaneous from Kaldur and Tula, to which he rolled his eyes. La’gaan knew that as their king’s potential protégés Garth, Tula, and Kaldur’ahm had to learn to be careful about their word choice and what they said, but sometimes he thought the way they had to censor themselves was completely ridiculous.

Topo had been thoughtful through the exchange, looking at Garth with narrowed eyes as he considered. Finally, just as Garth was about to say something else he probably shouldn’t, he announced, “I think Garth could pull it off. What Aesal did I mean. I think if he wanted to he could disguise himself in the same way and no one would know it was him.”

“See? Topo believes in me!”

“It’s not a matter of ‘believing’ in you chum, it’s a matter of you wanting to dodge politicians before you even get the job,” La’gaan scoffed.

“I think I heard somewhere that a politician who doesn’t want to be a politician is usually the best one for the job.”

“Okay, now both Topo and Blubber are on my side. I think that says something.”

Tula rolled her eyes. “It means you’re reaching and they’re being nice to you Garth.”

Garth pretended to be wounded at the very thought. “Blubber, Topo, you wouldn’t lie to me like that, would you? If I’m going to make a fool of myself you would at least let me know when I’m not doing it convincingly?”

Solemnly laying one flipper-like hand against his chest, Blubber announced in a serious tone, “A’lansha, I promise you that if you’re ever going to make that much of a fool of yourself and you can’t pull it off convincingly I’ll let you know… after I’ve watched everything fall apart.”

Garth clutched at his chest overdramatically. “Betrayed by one of my only supporters! I’m wounded! I may not survive the night!”

Kaldur huffed, trying not to show that he was amused by Garth’s antics (though of course by now the others knew him well enough to be able to tell). “And this is why no one can take you seriously.”

“Now that’s just not-”

“Maybe that’s why the king is considering him. He puts on so much of a show that no one takes him seriously and he can blindside someone.” As helpful as the comment was, La’gaan said it in a tone that was so thoroughly amused that it was obvious that he was picking at Garth.

Pretending to be offended, Garth gave a huff and retorted, “I came out to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

“It’s official. We never should have let you have access to the internet through our computer.” Blubber was trying to look stern, but Blubber and ‘stern’ never really went well together— especially when he was dangerously close to laughing.

“Don’t put this on me and Lori!” La’gaan protested, laughter creeping in despite himself. “You’re the only Land-Lover who thought it was a good idea!”

Topo started outright cackling. “Dissension in the ranks!”

Lori gave a prim sniff (that would have been far more effective in one of the air-districts) and said, “It’s true. We Land-Lovers, except Blubber, disavow all knowledge of giving A’lansha internet access through our shared computer system.”

Kaldur arched an eyebrow. “I am beginning to think that our king was correct in his assessment that exposure to surface-cultures may have a negative impact on our minds.”

“…Are you trying to imply that I’m being mind-controlled? That’s a low blow,” Garth said. “...How did we get from talking about Aesal to everyone being against me again?”

Before anyone could answer (though La’gaan was tempted to throw another verbal prod at Garth), Topo set aside his lunch and floated up from where he’d been sitting. “Hold on. I’ll be right back. I need to go get the book that has a picture of the kind of thing Aesal was wearing, that way Garth will know just how far he would have to go to disguise himself like that.” Even Kaldur couldn’t completely repress a laugh at that.

Garth stared at Topo and blinked with wide eyes for a moment or two. “Why do I have the feeling even you just turned on me? I thought you believed in me!”

“I do, but you have to see this,” Topo laughed. “I’ll be right back.” And with that he swam back toward the Conservatory.

“Betrayed and abandoned!”

La’gaan shook his head. “Chum, if that’s your idea of being ‘abandoned’ then you’re worse than a guppy.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know-”

The seven of them continued on like that for a while, good-naturedly teasing Garth while Lori and Tula eventually decided that if Garth by some random fluke magically became royalty that they would have to be damage control (La’gaan had initially been included up until he suggested sacrificing Garth’s enemies to the most nonsensical deity they could find), which in turn lead to Kaldur and Blubber bemoaning the fact that the two of them seemed to be the only ones in their group of friends with any sense.

Topo was taking a while, a long while, to find the book he’d set off to find and then come back. After a few glances in the direction of the Conservatory with no sign of Topo each time, La’gaan pushed himself up from where he’d been sitting.

“La’gaan, are you okay?” Lori asked. She’d been developing a fine sense of when something was bothering La’gaan even when he was doing his best to hide it.

“It’s nothing. Topo’s just taking a while. Probably tearing his room apart trying to find that book or something.” The ‘and so I’m going to go check on him’ went unsaid. He didn’t feel like saying anything about his increasing sense that something was wrong just in case it turned out that Topo was perfectly fine.

A brief frown flicked across Lori’s face, but she nodded.

La’gaan swam toward the Conservatory, darting along the halls as soon as he got inside and taking the fastest route he knew of to get to Topo’s dorm. The moment he got there he didn’t even hesitate to open the door to look inside with a playful tease at the tip of his tongue— which died on his lips the moment he saw Topo wasn’t there. His room was orderly as ever (well, as orderly as Topo tended to keep it— mildly disorganized but with some sense of order that only he really knew), so La’gaan knew that if something had happened it at least wasn’t in Topo’s room. His feeling that something had gone wrong was increasing.

La’gaan closed the door after taking a deep pull of water in through his nose. Tracking something by smell was always an imprecise skill, prone to giving more of a general direction than a completely accurate one (particularly in crowded places like the Conservatory where the scents of hundreds of people freely mingled in the water only to end up muddled), but even though it was a skill that marked him as having come from the outer provinces La’gaan didn’t care and wouldn’t stop using it. It had proven too useful to let go of, and in this instance it was his best bet for finding Topo quickly. He took a moment or two circling in the empty hall like a restless shark trying to find the direction away from Topo’s room where his scent was strongest, and the moment he was certain he set off. With each minute that crept by his sense of worry was increasing; he made a distracted mental note to pay better attention to learning tracking spells in class.

He darted along, following the vague and wandering trail that had been broken by others’ paths, and he tried not to be obvious about his circling and searching for Topo’s scent once he started getting into more crowded areas. While there were a few kisegra he passed, he was reluctant to ask if they’d seen Topo— both because most of them were kamala and might be hostile, and because he didn’t want to have any of the ‘pure’ around overhear his concern— and he wasn’t about to ask anyone ‘pure’ when he didn’t know or trust them. It slowed him down more than he liked. La’gaan felt about ready to scream in frustration while crossing the Conservatory’s central courtyard when he lost Topo’s scent for what felt like the tenth time in as many strokes, knowing that if he didn’t catch the scent again that he’d have to go back to restlessly circling in full view of everyone else in and around the courtyard, only to pause as he was swimming by the entrance to a cleansing room— normally reserved for getting cleaned up after intense magical or physical training and occasional student storage, and not the sort of place Topo would typically go if he could help it. A faint hint of Topo’s scent led inside, and La’gaan could feel the fins on the back of his head bristle.

La’gaan drifted in slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible while he went through the angled-down entryway and around the corner into the cleansing room itself— and what he saw on the opposite end of the room nearly made his blood boil. Topo had his back against the wall, his arms holding his book tightly against his chest as if it might protect him, and Ronal and four other ‘pure’ students were blocking Topo’s way out.

“-should be thankful we’re taking the time out of our day to let you know where you and your kind stand,” Ronal said with a sneer. “And when we’re done with you, you can take the message back to that trench-swimming tursus you call your friend. Let him know he’s next.”

A snarl erupted from La’gaan and he could feel his magic building on reflex as the water began to churn around him. “Hey shark-shit, you want me so bad, how about you try tangling with me?” Before Ronal and his friends could fully turn, La’gaan surged across the room—backed up by a wall of water that slammed into them like a giant fist, halting just short of Topo before dissipating. It was enough. “Topo, get out of here!” La’gaan snapped as he tossed aside one of Ronal’s stunned friends. Topo hesitated for only a moment before bolting out of the room. La’gaan had never seen him swim that fast in the entire time they’d known each other.

It was a relief when Topo was out of range, it meant La’gaan no longer had to worry about catching him in the crossfire or paying attention to the fine control of magic that was always hard to manage when he was angry. It made it simple. “You wanna go after me chum?! I hope you like losing,” he snarled. He talked big, but he knew five against one was bad odds; better to knock them all down a few pegs while they were stunned and then get out as soon as possible. And of course that was when the five of them turned all of their attention on him. Ronal and his friends were disoriented, but they were still trying to fight— and they didn’t appreciate that La’gaan had let their target escape. They tried to fan out around him; La’gaan had no intention of letting them get the advantage, and as they tried to grab hold of him he exploded into activity, both physical and magical.

“You little migas,” Ronal snarled as La’gaan planted a hard elbow into the gut of one of the others. “I’ll show you your damned place, you and all your ki—”

Ronal was abruptly cut off as La’gaan slammed him against the wall, his head bouncing off the tile with a dull ‘thunk’ muffled by the water. La’gaan drew close, water churning behind him into a wall that Ronal’s friends couldn’t get through, and he snarled out in a dangerous and low tone, “Listen here you son-of-a-hagfish, if you ever go after one of my friends again, I will personally hunt your ass down and show you just how fucking ‘savage’ I am. And if you ever call me or anyone else that damned word ever again, you’ll get more for it than just a little scar in your eyebrow. DO NOT. FUCK. WITH ME.” He held Ronal in place for a moment longer, fighting his anger and the impulse to do something worse— and then, a brief flicker of a memory. Only the thought of what happened the last time he had gotten that angry, the incident that ended with him catching Queen Mera’s attention and someone ending up dead, forced him to back off. He gave Ronal one final shove before turning and channeling all of his rage into his magic to propel himself out of the room.

He rocketed right past Topo and out above the courtyard, trying to hold back the scream building in his chest as he tried to out-swim the memory. He knew it was his imagination, he knew that that incident hadn’t repeated, but La’gaan felt almost like he could taste blood in his mouth. It was as if the brief flash of that memory brought on a flood. Topo might have called after him, but La’gaan wasn’t sure. Hurt/pain/fear/rage/loss-of-control/HATE/death flashed through his mind, the memory of losing control of his magic and turning it against someone overwhelming in its sudden immediacy. So close… he had come so close. He couldn’t— wouldn’t— do something like that again. Never again. He would never, he would never, he would never, he would never, he would never—

“La’gaan!” Topo had finally caught up with him, jerking him out of his thoughts. He still had his book in his arms, but his knuckles were no longer pale-gray from the tightness of his grip.

La’gaan forced himself to breathe. He hadn’t noticed that he’d temporarily stopped.

“La’gaan… are you okay?” Topo’s expression was one of concern; big black worried eyes locked on La’gaan.

“I’m…” La’gaan took a deep pull of water and shoved the memories back. “I’ll be fine. Just got a bit tense in there. Are you okay?” Better to focus on Topo and make sure he was alright. Better not to even talk about the memory. Better to protect Topo from that pain.

“I’ll be okay,” Topo said. He hesitated, but finally he swam forward and hugged La’gaan tightly, surprising him into returning the hug. “Thank you.”

“For what?” The sudden surge of a relieved happiness mixed with the feelings brought on by his memories confused La’gaan, so he opted to try to ignore it.

“For getting there when you did.”

La’gaan gave a huff, trying to force in some humor to shove the memories further back. “It would have been better if I got there sooner chum. That way those hagfish-suckers wouldn’t have been able to corner you in the first place.”

Topo pulled back and made a face. “That is the most disgusting insult I’ve ever heard.”

La’gaan laughed. “C’mon, let’s get back to the others. Lunch is almost over anyway.”

The two of them swam back to their friends in silence, and when Garth greeted them with, “There you are! We were wondering what was taking so long,” neither of them felt like mentioning what had happened.

“My book was hiding.” La’gaan didn’t bother correcting Topo’s statement.

***

END OF PART 1