#This fic was brought to you by a work history in the service industry

[yeahyankee]

Sleight of Hand [OPLA Nami/Saji Fanfic]

For her, treasure didn't always have to be material. Sometimes the brightest bauble could be someone's secret, and as a thief--it thrilled her to pluck things like these from their hiding places.

Her passion, she supposed, wasn't feeding people, but figuring them out. And sometimes figuring people out meant catching someone off guard.

So, in a way, that was probably what drove her to slip into the galley of the Going Merry, and to start re-arranging Sanji's knives.

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 10

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: None, wow 😂

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

I make my livin' off the evenin' news

Just give me somethin', somethin' I can use

People love it when you lose

They love dirty laundry

~ Don Henley - Dirty Laundry ~

Ethan’s plan to raise Equinox’s standing within the record company was very clear. While their nights were spent performing on stage, Ethan had made sure their days were filled with a tight schedule of PR appointments.

Where they’d had plenty of time to relax, socialise and explore on their previous tours, every day was now jam-packed with meet & greets, photoshoots and interviews. Even when they were off duty, Ethan was constantly reminding them to take pictures and film stories to publish on social media.

“People aren’t following you because they like your music,” he never got tired of saying. “They want to see who’s behind their favourite rockstars. Give them a look at your private life and you’ll be everybody’s darlings in no time once again.”

Some of them were more reluctant to put themselves out there than the others. While Lizzie and Skye didn’t mind the odd goofy backstage clip, Lizzie noticed Merula and especially Orion were increasingly drawing back into themselves.

Lizzie and Orion made a point to avoid talking about band business when they were spending their nights together; not that they were talking much at all. But the concerned crease that she could see more often than not on Orion’s forehead these days wasn’t lost on her either.

The worst part of Ethan’s strategy, however, were without a doubt the countless press appointments. All in the spirit of keeping the enemy close, Lizzie had lost track of how many interviews they had given since their U.K. tour had started. The publications they were working with ranged from reputable magazines and newspapers to the trashiest of tabloids. At least, most of the stories those were coming up with were just too hilarious to be actually believable; Lizzie shuddered to think what dirt they could uncover if they’d ever decide to dig for real.

Like on so many days before, Equinox were scheduled for another interview before one of their rare days off. It was for a feature story with a magazine well respected in the industry, all with an accompanying photo shoot and the whole conundrum. It wouldn’t have sounded so bad, had it not been for the journalist who had been chosen to conduct the interview.

Lizzie had met a number of reporters over the course of her career, but none who ground her nerves as Rita Skeeter did.

Beloved by her readers and dreaded by the subjects of her stories, Rita Skeeter was one of the most sharp-tongued critics British journalism had to offer. She had a singular gift - although some called it a curse - to wiggle even the slightest of juicy information out of her unheeding interview partner. Many a career had taken a dive after an unfortunate encounter with her.

If you wanted utmost attention, Rita Skeeter was the right woman for the job; but you had better get your guard up.

The blonde woman was currently watching Andre preparing them for the interview and the shoot afterwards; usually the magazines brought their own stylists, but Ethan liked to keep as many things under control as he could. Having Andre in charge of their looks guaranteed they would give off just the impression Ethan wanted.

Andre was in the process of applying Lizzie’s make up, the tip of his tongue showing between his teeth while he concentrated. She winced as her eyes started tearing up from the wand of the mascara.

“I don’t get why this much makeup is necessary,” she complained, drawing away from Andre to blink her tears away. “I get it with Merula, she’s singing and in focus, but I’m behind the drums, no one’s paying attention to me. Give her the spotlight and leave me in peace,” she added glumly as she saw Andre approach with a curling wand.

Andre tutted as he opened her ponytail and loosened her hair with practised hands. “Stop arguing, you know it’s useless. And besides,” he added with a wink that showed off his glittery eyeliner, “loads of people are paying attention to you; you’re just not looking.”

“I have to agree with Mr. Egwu,” Rita suddenly said. She had been leaning against one of the dressing tables on the set and watched them being dolled up. Andre usually held their wardrobe in dark colours, black and white, so Rita’s bilious green dress stood out like a flare in comparison. She pursed her bright red lips as she looked Lizzie up and down over the rim of her half-glasses.

“You’re a favourite with my readers, Miss Jameson… Lizzie, I may call you Lizzie, right?”

Without waiting for Lizzie’s answer, she continued. “You have a bright personality and some decent looks; you are the little sunshine of this group and everyone likes themselves a good ‘girl next door in the big wide world’ trope.”

She raised her hands at Lizzie’s sceptical look and laughed; it sounded incredibly put on. “I’m not a fan of putting people into drawers either, but it’s what the people want to see.” She tapped her finger against her temple. “It’s how my readers think.”

Skye snorted in the background; she was already done with her styling and sat on one of the tables, legs dangling in the air. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Rita giggled. “Of course the rebel of the group would say that, I expected nothing else; after all, there’s true rockstar blood running through your veins, Skye Parkin.”

Not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to herself, Skye fell silent.

When everyone was ready, they moved over to where two comfortable looking sofas and an armchair were set up for them. Lizzie sighed inwardly as she took her place between Skye and Everett. Rita Skeeter was known to make her interview questions up on the spot; Lizzie just hoped they wouldn’t be too off the rails.

Rita leaned back into her armchair facing them and placed a dictating machine onto the small wooden table next to her. It was no secret that the infamous reporter liked to keep her own notes, kept apart from the material belonging to her magazine; she usually kept the dictating device running long after the cameras had turned off.

“So,” she began speaking to an invisible audience with a sickly sweet voice, “I’m honoured to be talking to England’s hottest export when it comes to rock ‘n’ roll - and I mean that in more ways than one.”

She turned her attention towards them. “It’s so good to have you here today, how are you all?”

They all muttered some noncommittal phrases before Rita started with her first question. Like always in the beginning, it was more of a general palaver as both parties were taking the other’s measure.

If the questions weren’t directed at anyone in particular, it was usually Everett answering them. He loved the attention he got from Rita and contrary to the rest of them, he almost seemed to feel comfortable around her. The pictures Lizzie had seen of him and Rita in Skye’s tabloid came to her mind again, and she wondered if that might be the reason for Everett’s talkativeness.

As the interview continued, Rita’s questions were gradually becoming more detailed, focused on several aspects that she deemed sell-worthy. She watched every one of them closely as they answered, and they picked their words carefully.

“One thing I noticed about this last part of your tour is your very increased availability,” Rita said. “I don’t remember seeing you do so much fan service and public appearances before. What’s the reason behind this?”

It was Orion who answered her question. “The most important thing to us is to make sure our fans are having a good time. Without them, we wouldn’t be where we are now; it’s not a lot, but this is our way of thanking them.”

“Is this the reason for your upcoming special show tomorrow? Reserved for the indigent foster care children?”

Her eyes flicked between Merula and Orion. “It’s no secret you two have a history with the system. One orphaned at such a young age, the other the daughter of convicted criminals, bound to be raised in the shadows of her parents’ deeds. Two unlikely siblings, not bound by blood but by trauma - how does it feel to risk a look into your own past?”

“It’s a show like any other,” Merula replied bluntly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She scowled at the blonde reporter. “No need to make a big deal out of this.”

Orion inclined his head in Merula’s direction. “What Merula wants to say is, we make no difference in what good cause we are supporting, as long as we can put a smile on the faces of those who need it, even if only for a little while. We do have our past in the care system, that is common knowledge, but as Merula pointed out already, this is in the past. If you want to continue on your path, it is no good walking with your gaze turned backwards. We live in the here and now, so it’s what’s in front of us that matters.”

The slight twitch around the corners of Rita’s mouth was almost too quick to catch, but Lizzie had seen it nonetheless. Apparently, Orion had given her the exact bridge to her next question she had hoped for.

“If you want to speak about the here and now, I’ll be too happy to fulfill your wish,” she cooed. “Now that we’re speaking on a more personal level anyway, I just have to ask. You guys are living everyone’s wildest dreams, a life all of us mere mortals can only imagine.” Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses. “It’s only us here, you can trust me; what about the juicy stories? Any tales of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll you want to share with the world?”

Lizzie subconsciously bit the inside of her cheek, hoping Rita hadn’t noticed before she got herself under control again; this woman was a bloodhound when it came to scandals. If she ever found out what was going on between Orion and her, Lizzie might just as well bury herself alive.

Luckily, Orion wasn’t fazed by her question. “The only passion we share is the love for our music,” he smiled noncommittally. “As professional musicians we try to keep our public and private lives separated.”

Rita’s eyes gleamed as she leaned forward. “You try to keep them separated?”

Before Lizzie couldn’t help it, her eyes flickered to Orion again.

“We have been friends for years, of course our lives intervene in places. The friendship between us we show to the world is genuine and not for show.”

“Friendship, huh?” Rita’s nostrils flared as her eyes swept the round. “Come on, we’re all adults here. So many gorgeous young people spending their time together all day, everyday? Don’t tell me you’re all staying up drinking apple juice and playing board games.”

Her attention shifted so suddenly that Lizzie was taken by surprise. “What about you, Lizzie? Any stories to tell?” She looked her up and down critically. “If you ask me, you and Jason would make quite the pair. The golden girl and the bad boy? People live for stories like that.”

Everett sighed wistfully. “Just call me Ev, Rita, everyone does. But yeah, that’s what I’ve been telling her for years now, but so far to no avail. Perhaps she’ll listen to you.”

Lizzie was relieved when he immediately started laughing his words off. “I’m joking of course; Orion is right. The band is our job and our management wants us to keep things professional. There’s other ways to live the rockstar lifestyle,” he finished with a wink.

Rita pursed her lips in a knowing smile. “That I believe in a heartbeat. Fill me in guys, between us, how is it with the ladies? The bad guy with an angel’s voice and the soulful songwriter and his magic hands… you must be spoiled for choice.”

Everett grinned and leaned back against the sofa. “I can’t complain, is all I’m saying.”

“How about you Orion? Dark eyes, messy hair, all those tattoos - your fans must love this,” she winked with a sly smile, “At least I know where I would try to go after a show if I was a little younger.”

Lizzie tried very much not to roll her eyes.

“Even if they do, I wouldn’t know of it,” Orion answered serenely. “While I love all our fans dearly, my relationship with them ends when our show does.”

“So no stories behind your many tattoos? No tales of long lost love?”

“I didn’t say there are no stories,” Orion replied, “only that they have nothing to do with any fans of ours.”

Trying to steer the conversation to a less dangerous topic, he started explaining the stories behind some of the less meaningful tattoos on his wrists and arms. Lizzie knew each and every one of them by heart, the pictures as familiar to her as Orion’s smile when she ran her fingers over his painted skin.

What he didn’t mention was the biggest of his tattoos and her favourite one; the giant dreamcatcher running along the whole length of his back. Thinking about the intricate lines made a little smile appear on her face.

She didn’t even notice Rita asking her way through the rest of her friends until the reporter’s attention turned to her.

“All of your friends seem to be quite the fans of body art; what about you, Lizzie? Do you have any tattoos as well?”

Lizzie flashed Rita the brilliant but noncommittal smile reserved for the people she just couldn’t stand. “I do have one, yes.”

Rita raised an eyebrow when she didn’t continue. “And where might that be?”

Lizzie chuckled in response. “That will stay my little secret.”

Her gaze was fixed on Rita, but out of the corner of her eye she could see Orion fighting hard to suppress a grin. Of course, he knew exactly where it was.

Rita blinked, clearly irritated by her answer, the same empty smile that was on Lizzie’s face never leaving her red lips.

“Very well, keep your secret - for now. I’ll find out eventually.”

Her smile broadened, a dangerous glint shining in her eyes. “All secrets have their way of ending up with me, one way or another.”

Rita stood up from her armchair to get herself something to drink. When she turned her back on them, Lizzie slowly breathed out, relieved to have the blonde’s prying eyes taken off her.

As the others got up to leave the set as well, Orion and Lizzie’s eyes met for a moment. A smile was playing around his lips as they dropped to where her tattoo was hidden from everybody else’s sight.

She felt her lips curve into a smile of her own and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, her hand resting over the small spot on her ribcage where the words that resonated with her so much were inked into her skin. Seeing what she was doing, Orion couldn’t contain his grin any longer. Judging by the twinkle in his eyes, the memory of when he had first seen them was playing just as vividly in his mind as it did in hers.

[avelera]

One thing that has me excited about the Amnesiac!Nicky fic is it’s my first stab at the old “person from the past gets ‘brought’ to the future” “omg what is a toaster?!” trope, because for a long time I have had MANY Opinions™ about how others have handled this trope. 

- One thing I want to get away from is the idea that certain household appliances would be SHOCKING to a historical person, rather than simply neat. To many people throughout history, a refrigerator would just be a cold storage cellar in a smaller form, nifty in how small it is and how it works above ground, but not inherently a difficult concept to process. Ovens have existed throughout history, as has toasted bread, so the joke about a toaster freaking out a historic person to the point where they faint seems implausible to me, it’s just a tiny oven. That said, a microwave actually would seem pretty damn magical (as it was for people in the last few decades, even those otherwise familiar with modern amenities.) 

- Now, I’m writing someone from the 11th c. Mediterranean coming to the future from a bustling coastal trade port. Obviously you could pick someone from a really remote time and place and shock the hell out of them with just about anything. But then, you don’t actually have to make up a fictional event here. Plenty of non-industrialized societies have had encounters with industrialized societies, but many were not impressed. This is important to note since so much “person from the past in the future” fiction tends to give off a strong whiff of self-congratulation, an almost desperate self-reassurance by modern city dwellers that their way of life really is so much better. 

- A lot of what people think of as “modern” ideas aren’t that modern at all. Ancient Roman men shaved their legs and the women wore silk imported from China. They had curbside fast food, public fountains and bath houses with running water, as well as seven story tall buildings, which is about as tall as modern cities got until quite recently with the invention of the elevator to allow buildings to grow beyond what is comfortable for a human to climb on foot. Myths of the lack of bathing in the Middle Ages are greatly exaggerated, bath houses were quite common then as they are in many cities today where space in an apartment for a full bath is limited.

- A few things that I think would be shocking? Just to name a few that I rarely see in fiction utilizing this trope:

1) Fully stocked supermarkets. We can go back as recently as the Cold War to see that this modern invention is shocking even to contemporaries. Descriptions of a magical paradise in Medieval Europe were often less about elves and fairies and more about a place where food is bountiful and endless.

2) Speed is a big one, I’m actually digging right now for accounts of the first reactions to high speed travel because there was a lot of anxiety about humans going over 30mph/50kph. The sight of cars, trains, and airplanes carrying people at high speeds and even through the sky would be genuinely mind-blowing.

3) Painkillers and functioning (non-superstitious) medical care would be huge (the guy who invented ibuprofen just died). The rarity of people on the street not being visibly scarred by childhood diseases or cancer, and social services that reduce (tragically, not eliminate) the number of elderly or vulnerable people dying on the street without assistance would be a major change from historic urban norms. Receiving medical care based on a scientific understanding of the human body, undiluted by pervasive myths, was a rare privilege throughout human history and its visible effects on the health of the wider population would be an enormous shift.

4) Kindness to animals - the reduction of animals to do labor like horses to draw carts, the fact that farming is now a largely centralized industry outside the view of most members of the population, instead of something the vast majority partake in, has massively reduced our exposure to animal cruelty or even the daily necessities of killing the food we eat. Our sensitivity to animal suffering would be mind blowing to a historical time traveler. Not that kindness to animals didn’t exist, or horror at cruelty to a dog or a cat, but it was usually the exception, not the rule. 

- But I also as a final thought exercise like to ask this: what would be horrifying today to historic eyes? Not just crowds and bustle and speed, or egalitarianism or cleanliness or medicine, things we like to congratulate ourselves for. What would a historic person actually see as a huge step backwards? 

My answer to that tends to be: atheism. Religion is still a big part of may people’s lives but it’s not central to the functioning of daily life in industrialized countries the way it once was. Prayer was more than about moral cleanliness in many ancient societies, it was what kept the world functioning. A leader who did not meet their religious requirements could be violently deposed for failing to protect their people. Religious rites kept misfortune at bay and maintained social cohesion. Go back even 100 years and interview your own ancestors, and while they may be happy that you have access to an education, food, and medicine, you may not have to go back very far to find out just how horrified they, and most of your ancestors throughout history, would be to learn that even devout Christians (my own frame of reference, as I cannot speak to others) often only go to Church once a week or worse, only a couple times a year, when once prayer was multiple times per day.

So often this trope is only about modern people congratulating themselves for the accident of being born into modern times. There’s definitely a lot of stuff I haven’t thought of or included in this already pretty long essay. There’s a lot of stuff that’s my own conjecture, but I hope when writing my own take on the ‘historic time traveller’ trope that I break from some of the bigger cliches of the genre in favor of a more historically-informed take.

[bigskydreaming]

Bottom line why the “Tim being fired as Robin was just like Bruce firing Dick, so Dick should’ve known better” thing bothers me so much is it manages to spin things to assume the worst of Dick in all scenarios, while never expecting any of the others to be accountable for their own reactions to being replaced.

What I mean is: if Dick ‘firing’ Tim as Robin and replacing him with Damian is just like Bruce doing the same with Dick and Jason....then why is Tim considered justified in resenting both Damian and Dick for this and holding a grudge for years....but any time Dick is mentioned as having initial animosity towards Jason, its painted as though he should have gotten over it?

Like, look at how mentions of Dick and Jason’s early interactions due to Dick’s rumored animosity to Jason are portrayed in fics....and tell me its anywhere close to as sympathetically rendered as Tim’s resentment towards his own situation is in fics.

Not to mention the facts that Dick didn’t take it out on Jason in canon, and it ISN’T the same as when Bruce fired Dick and made Jason the new Robin without telling him, because Robin WAS Dick’s to give away or share, in a way it never was Bruce’s to do so.

This name that they all have been written as resenting Dick because of, due to how he did or didn’t handle each successive passing of the torch, only EXISTS because of him and his homage to his family. And its so fucked up that the one guy who gets the brunt of the others’ grudges in regards to it, is the one and ONLY person who should have ever had control over its succession in the first place.

Imagine if after Bruce’s parents had been murdered, members of WE’s board of directors bribed people to rob Bruce of his inheritance and control of WE, and had him taken from Alfred and shoved into the system. Imagine if he’d been told Gotham isn’t a good fit for a traumatized kid like him and been taken away from everything he knew and was familiar with and sent to another city to grow up in. If he didn’t have his house anymore, or his belongings, or his parents’ portraits or heirlooms, or anything else that tied him to his parents, his family, the generations that had inhabited his family home before him....imagine if the only thing he had left of all that, the only thing tying him to everything he was ripped away from and not allowed to keep, the only thing he brought with him to this new place he now was expected to grow up in, that he didn’t have to be given by his new guardians....was his mother’s pearl necklace, that let’s say Bruce managed to pocket and hang onto the night they died.

Imagine saying that ANYONE could EVER be justified in taking that pearl necklace, the ONLY thing in this world that is definitively Bruce’s....and giving it away. Demanding he share it or let others wear it. Arguing ‘well its not like you’re wearing it/getting any use out of it/you just keep it lying in a drawer.’

Because that’s what Robin is to Dick. Its his pearl necklace, the only real piece of his family history he could hold onto, that the system couldn’t take away from him, force him to give up.

That’s the thing that’s been passed around and that Dick so often ends up resented for, for having the NERVE to act even slightly possessive of, or like, daring to imagine it might actually be HIS to designate who wears the mantle and when. 

Even acknowledging that his brothers have of course added their own bits of family history to it now, does not change the fact that Robin did not exist to BE Batman’s partner. Robin existed because Dick was going to do this whether he had help or not, as we’re so often told in multiple versions of canon, and the only reason Bruce ever let a kid out on the streets to fight crime was because he knew he couldn’t stop him and so figured this was his best chance of keeping him safe. And Robin specifically was the guise and symbolism Dick chose to conduct his own mission in. The name ONLY has meaning because of the meaning it carried for Dick, and that Dick in turn gave to it in the eyes of others. 

Like, if you imagine that for a family of entertainers, they saw their life’s work as being about making peoples’ lives a little brighter, lighter, more hopeful after they walked out of their shows than when they’d first walked in......then of course Robin made Batman’s existence brighter, was the light to his darkness, as Tim saw it by the time he became Robin. But not because Dick was TRYING to be that for BATMAN....but because Dick was trying to be that for GOTHAM, period....and Batman by virtue of being at his side, received the most tangible benefits of that. 

But that doesn’t mean it was intended that way, it was merely a byproduct due to proximity. And the more the characters and fandom try and cut out Dick as ‘the middle man’ between Batman and their versions of Robin, instead of paying actual acknowledgment to Dick’s place in all of this, the more it ends up that like....this one thing that the member of the Batfamily most INSISTENT on having his own identity outside of Bruce’s partner/shadow/heir, the ONE thing he had that didn’t come from Bruce or the Batfamily, this one thing that was his and his alone, his continuation of his family’s work just in his own new way.....its become like, completely in service to Bruce and his legacy and lineage.

And that’s so...so....blergh. 

Robin was Batman’s partner situationally. But Robin was created to connect to a family legacy that only Dick is a nexus point for, because he’s the lynch pin between generations of Flying Graysons and each new sibling to be named Robin.

And to then on top of it try to box Dick out of his connection to it more and more with each succession, like with all the others bearing some kind of grudge or resentment towards the guy who was FORCED to share this in the first place, not even asked, but just EXPECTED to make his peace with it.....and to say that Dick doing this to anyone, at any point, for any reason, could possibly be the same as Bruce taking it and giving it to someone else....

Yeah.....

The other Robins are NOT the victims of Dick’s like....entitled handling of HIS family legacy. They’re just not. There’s no way, shape or form, in which anyone EVER has more of a right to the name, colors and mantle of Robin than Dick himself. 

And this isn’t a slight against any of the others at all? It doesn’t make them lesser as Robins, because how could it, if Robin makes them all brothers, makes them family, and the original Robin has always said hey, Robin means family, and that’s how we’re brothers.

Its not about ranking them or anything like that, its simply about context.

Jason has Gotham itself. He’s frequently written both in comics and fanon as though like...he’s OF Gotham in a way that even Bruce isn’t, that he’s part of it, part of the streets of the city, its people, its neighborhoods, in a way that none of the rest of the Batfamily ever can compare to. And the others acknowledge this in various ways, in both canon and fanon.

Tim has Drake Industries, his inheritance from his parents, his family name on tons of buildings all bearing the name Drake due to his first family’s contributions to the city and the footprint they left on it. And again, Tim’s status as the heir of Drake Industries is frequently acknowledged in various ways, in canon and fanon.

Same with Damian’s legacy from his mother’s side and his grandfather - for better or worse, its very much acknowledged as being THERE, and his connection to prior generations, and while Cass would likely be more than glad for more distance between her and reminders of her parents, those connections are everpresent in everyone else’s eyes as much as hers.

Only Dick’s connection to HIS past and and his family’s history is like....CONSISTENTLY claimed and appropriated, without anyone ever thinking this is a problem. Sidelined more and more with each new Robin, as the others’ gripes with Dick over his ‘mishandling’ of HIS family inheritance, essentially, all compound and group together, resulting in Dick’s brothers finding solidarity AGAINST him in the name of like...their issues with how he views HIS freaking legacy.

Siiiiiiiiiiiigh.

[hope-for-olicity]

Fabulous Olicity Fanfic Friday - September 28th, 2018

Happy Friday! So this is my attempt to both thank awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and offer my recommendations to anyone who is interested. Here are the fantastic fanfic stories I read this week! They are posted in the order I read them.

A Novel Beginning multi-chapter WIP by @vaelisamaza - Olicity AU, Felicity runs her own Tech shop and writes romance novel reviews for her sister's website, Oliver comes in for computer help and it's all getting very exciting!! SQUEE!!!!  https://archiveofourown.org/works/15800145/chapters/36771384

Angel multi-chapter WIP by @it-was-a-red-heeler - Oliver encounters a stripper by the name of Angel and is blown away. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961898/chapters/37227686#workskin

The Paths We Take multi-chapter Complete by griever11 - Rival CEOs AU. Felicity Smoak, CEO and founder of her own company, is trying to prove herself in the cutthroat world of the technology industry among the other bigwigs in the game. Oliver Queen, recently back from the dead is trying to prove to the world that he's no longer the same man-child who went down on the Queen's Gambit and is finally worthy of his family's legacy. Both equally formidable names in the corporate world. And both with a long, complicated history with each other that no one but themselves are privy to. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314133/chapters/35530296

From Somewhere Within multi-chapter WIP by @smoaking-greenarrow - Their connection has always felt natural to them, safe and secure. But others tend to fear what they don’t understand, and as far as their enemies are concerned, the world isn’t ready to accept two people who can know each other the way that Oliver and Felicity do. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16009244/chapters/37356257

I Have a Right by who_seeks_shall_find - William's friends defend William when a group of older kids harass him in a cafe. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16011746

The Hardest Target multi-chapter by @laurabelle2930 - When Felicity was a child her father developed an AI program that eventually brought their family fame and fortune. As she grew her father faded away his business grew and their bond shattered. After a car accident almost got her best friend Sara Lance killed Felicity's father made a choice...this choice would radically alter the course of her life. Now 5 years after the plane crash that killed her father and left her stranded she's come home to defeat the enemies her father's work created. The target is H.I.V.E's gun for hire, his name is unknown but his skills are deadly. He works for Damian Darkh who's allied with the one and only Quentin Lance Starlings chief of police. The only problem with her brand new life is Oliver Queen. He feels foreign yet familiar at the same time. She's drawn to him as he is to her but the question is why? What brings them together and what could potentially tear them apart? AMAZING!! http://archiveofourown.org/works/5745787/chapters/13240654

The Proposal multi-chapter WIP by @sunshineolicity - When Felicity is threatened with deportation, she lies about being engaged to her boss, Oliver Queen. She doesn't expect him to agree to marry her but they're caught up in family parties and wedding plans before she knows it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11301480/chapters/25287291

P.S. Hong Kong: Was it Real?!? multi-chapter WIP by @cruzrogue for Olicity trope-tastic award: Fake Marriage - This is off season 3 Flashbacks. When Tommy goes to Hong Kong he doesn’t go alone he takes his friend Felicity as the best information system being to help him locate Oliver Queen. Tommy may leave empty handed but Felicity gets to be a bride… https://archiveofourown.org/works/15025697/chapters/34832747

Rebels Connected multi-chapter WIP by @mindramblingsfics - Felicity Smoak is an escaped mutant on the run. Oliver Queen, leader of an underground safe house for mutants to call home comes to her rescue. Everything changes once he brings her into the organization and his life. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16014089/chapters/37369784

If I Tremble multi-chapter WIP by @smoaking-greenarrow - A collection of prompts and ficlets, with all the smut! Olicity sexy times are the best times. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409122/chapters/35762643

Life's All About Changes multi-chapter WIP by Crazyreader2468 - After agreeing to plead guilty to being the Green Arrow in order to get FBI assistance in capturing Diaz, Oliver finds himself in a supermax, a maximum security federal prison, serving a life sentence. As he struggles to become accustomed to life in prison, his family, friends, and teammates struggle to live without him, as well as continually attempting to find a way to get him pardoned. Will they succeed in obtaining a pardon and will Oliver survive until they do? Mostly AU from right before the ending of episode 6 x 22 and after most of 6 x 23. https://archiveofourown.org/works/14936172

Pieces of Always multi-chapter WIP by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34 - Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows. Ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. http://archiveofourown.org/works/8220479/chapters/18840356

The Reason multi-chapter WIP by flipflops - Oliver is an Alpha and Felicity is an Omega....circumstances lead Oliver to find this out and a very bad time or maybe very good time... https://archiveofourown.org/works/15012431

Re-Airrow Episode 2x04 by @lostolicityscenes - Three fill in the blank scenes for the episode. The first one takes place before the episode events basically deepening the bond between Oliver and Felicity and setting up the flirty flirt at the end of the episode. The second scene is a Delicity scene that takes place after the revelation that Sara is alive, expanding on Felicity’s feelings of hurt and confusion. The last scene takes place before the flirty Olicity scene in the episode. I wanted to show they talked before that scene to explain her change in attitude as well as an excuse to show Oliver’s increasing reliance on her advice. https://lostolicityscenes.tumblr.com/post/178194053416/re-airrow-episode-2x04

10 Rules of Rebounding multi-chapter WIP by @smkkbert - Oliver and Felicity start a sex relationship as rebounds for each other. What’s supposed to be just fun, soon gets complicated when it turns out that their work lives collide, Robert Queen fears their sexual relationship could threaten his company and an ex comes back into the play. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403404/chapters/35749620

Home To You multi-chapter WIP by @the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl - Oliver Queen has never done what his family expected of him. He took a gap year after high school instead of going to college right away. He quit his fraternity sophomore year to join the student newspaper, switching his major from business to journalism. He became a photojournalist for a wire service instead of taking a place at Queen Consolidated. He went missing after six months instead of coming home for his sister’s twenty-first birthday. He survived five years of captivity in a war zone when everyone thought he was dead. He came home. But home didn’t have a place for him in it anymore. His parents were both dead, casualties of their own mistakes and a city they had turned against them. His sister was all grown up, the CEO of Queen Consolidated with a fiancé and a dog and a life of her own. Oliver didn’t belong in his old life, but there was nowhere else for him to go. He was a man without a home, without any way of finding one, until he stopped by the IT department of his sister’s company to get files off an old, battered memory card, and found a woman with curly blonde hair and bright, intelligent eyes chewing on a bright red pen and swearing at a computer screen. https://archiveofourown.org/works/12613188/chapters/28734552

Arrow Out of Context: "You can call me nothing" Buried Alive Part 1 multi-chapter WIP by @smoaking-greenarrow - "John" and "My friends call me Dig, you should call me nothing."https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957309/chapters/37421213

Arrow Out of Context multi-chapter WIP by @smoaking-greenarrow - "I've already seen you shirtless. Multiple times. Shirtless all the time" https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957309/chapters/37541849#workskin

Queen vs Queen multi-chapter WIP by @muslimsmoak - Felicity Mignonette Renaldi Smoak has been handling being a princess pretty well so far. After all, she did only find out at the ripe young age of 15. Now, she is 21 and ready to take the throne of Genovia after being under the tutelage of her aunt. But there’s only one thing in her way, wait, actually two. Two things in her way: Oliver Queen, the hot young bachelor she danced with the night of her homecoming ball, who neglected to mention that he’s after her crown alongside his uncle Malcolm Merlyn, and the fact that she has to marry within 30 days if she wants to be Queen. Ray Palmer, Duke of Keystone is sweet, sensitive, intelligent and kind and seems like the perfect choice. But marrying and falling in love are two different things. A Princess Diaries AU  https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808065/chapters/36794172

Back to Start multi-chapter WIP by @laurabelle2930 - Felicity left home almost ten years ago. She missed her family, the land that she'd always felt bonded to and, the boy who was not only her best friend but, also her true love. Now with the help of her family she's about to see if the boy she left behind is still just as in love with as she still is with him. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16043321/chapters/37451873

Fragments multi-chapter WIP by @alexiablackbriar13 - A collection of various arrow and olicity ficlets from my drafts folder, partially completed. some AU, some canon related. many related to established verses I've created, although do not need to read those verses to read these fics. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15906561/chapters/37075926

Unexpected Meeting or Fate? multi-chapter WIP by CaptainSammyAngel - Since she was a little girl, Felicity Smoak has been apart of the League of Assassins. While Oliver Queen for the past six months has been the CEO of Queen Consolidated and trying to keep it afloat. When the League decides to start the hunt of Malcolm Merlyn in the last place he was located, two people will meet but circumstances and pasts will make it difficult for them to be together. Will they find a way or will they be torn apart? https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007139/chapters/34783916

The Queen's Mage multi-chapter WIP by @the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl - Words have power, and mages, those with the aptitude to draw on that power, are few in number. Thus, their services are highly sought after by anyone who has exhausted all mundane means of solving whatever problem is plaguing them. Felicity is reminded of this fact the hard way when she is hired by Moira Queen, the Lady Starling, to find and return to her son Oliver, who fled his family home five years ago following the death of his father. With a threat hanging over her should she return without Robert Queen's heir, Felicity begins her search. When she finds Oliver, and ends up joining his vigilante crusade while she waits for him to decide whether to return home, the last thing she expects to do is fall in love with him. https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617068/chapters/33781269

Re-airrow: Episode 2x05 by @lostolicityscenes - This scene takes place right before the above scene at the top of the episode. I think it’s pretty self-explanatory, dialogue that appears side by side takes place at the same time. Rest is below the cut. https://lostolicityscenes.tumblr.com/post/178325265428/re-airrow-episode-2x05 

Fear Wakes You Up multi-chapter WIP by @smoakmonster - In a world divided into factions, being Divergent means certain death. For years, Oliver has hidden his terrible secrets–masking his own Divergence within the chaos of Dauntless, covering up the sins of his father’s past that mark his body beneath tattoos, and pushing himself to overcome his nightmares through endless simulations. He’s biding his time until he can somehow save his sister back in Abnegation. But everything changes the day a new batch of transfers arrive. The day he meets her. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16058117/chapters/37490819

Deep Water multi-chapter WIP by @it-was-a-red-heeler - A Season 7 Speculation fic. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15081917/chapters/34968092

Hard To Find Love multi-chapter WIP by Mellowyellowdiamonds - Through a tragic twist of fate Felicity finds herself left with an orphaned young William Clayton. Keeping her promise to her friend, Felicity raises William diligently, loving him as if he were her own child, only to have Moira Queen storm into their lives several years later demanding custody of her grandson. Locked in a war with Moira Queen, things get complicated when Felicity finds herself developing unwanted feelings for William's biological father, Oliver Queen. At the same time she must try to manage her meddling 13 year old son, who has it in his head that if Felicity would just cooperate and fall for his father, everything would be right in the world. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941786/chapters/37173917

A Series of Dates multi-chapter Complete by @alexiablackbriar13 - Oliver Queen is in love with Felicity Smoak. Felicity Smoak is in love with Oliver Queen. It takes four dates, and the help of Oliver's loyal service dog, Hunter, for them to realise that they're forever destined to be something more than just friends. https://archiveofourown.org/works/13130304/chapters/30036912

Time for a Story multi-chapter WIP by @smkkbert - This fic shows Olicity and their life as a (married) couple with family. Although Olicity (and their kids) are the protagonists, other characters of Arrow and Flash make appearances. YOU NEED THIS STORY IN YOUR LIFE. http://archiveofourown.org/works/3912157/chapters/8757172

// @emmaamelia95 // @mel-loves-all // @oliverfel4 // @green-arrows-of-karamel // @coal000 // @miriam1779 // @memcjo// @captainolicitysbedroom // @tdgal1 // @spaztronautwriter // @lalawo1// @quiveringbunny // @wrongshipper // @thebookjumper // @vaelisamaza // @myhauntedblacksoul // @lovelycssefan // @laurabelle2930 //

[shinobicyrus]

I wish you would write a fic where... Jane Porter was replaced with Milo James Thatch in the Tarzan plotline or vice versa in the Atlantis: The Lost Empire plotline.

A response to This prompt challenge. Oh Anon, you gave me an in to write more about archaeology nerds and my favorite lost civilization, of course I jumped right on that second option. 

After the third time waking up on the meager bedroll Ms. Sinclair had thrown at her to replace the one lost in the fire, Jane gave up trying to sleep. Days wandering in sunless tunnels miles below the earth had completely bollocksed her internal clock, and the weight of the day’s discoveries refused to settle soundly.

Somehow, the rest of the crew slept as though it all were a mere camping trip. Mister Santorini was content with a bag a volatile explosives as a pillow, Audrey was sleeping beneath a truck halfway through an overhaul, and Mole was…doing whatever Mole did in his holes. 

She walked barefoot around her snoring crew, wearing the same sweaty shirt and begrimed skirt she’d been wearing since the Ulysses had sunk. There’d been so little time to grab what she could- besides the Journal, all Jane had of her luggage and equipment was the leather bag she’d carried around with her since university. Hardly what a sensible and proper adventurer would prioritize in dire circumstances.

What passed for nighttime in an underground cavern bigger than London slowly lightened into blue twilight. Jane’s feet padded across mossy stones that at one time might have been a street full of people busying about their day, thousands of years before the Roman empire had set foot in Britain with fancies of greatness.

Hiking up her skirt, Jane sat down at the water’s edge and dipped her feet to cool. The humidity was a ceaseless pressure since they’d arrived, unaffected by a lack of sun or conventional notions of weather. It took Jane back to her mother’s greenhouse in Kensington. The squish of soil between her fingers, dirt in her nails, quizzes for each plant’s name in Latin. Lonicera periclymenum. Digitalis purpurea. No, Janey dear, it’s pronounced Convallaria muh-jay-liss.

Undoing the snaps of her bag, Jane dug out her few effects that had miraculously survived the shipwreck intact. An engraved fountain pen her father gave her for her birthday, her personal journal, a few pages of scribbled notes about the Atlantean tongue, some pencils and a…

Oh. It was the telegram from the Museum board that her last expedition proposal had been denied. God, had that only been a month ago?

Tucking that carefully back into her bag, Jane tried and failed to catalogue her thoughts of the last few days. After some minutes of fruitless, scratched out attempts and resisting that old childish urge to chew at her pen, Jane looked up from the page and saw exactly what her words would never be able to impart with any due justice.

Pencils were more suitable for this sort of work. Already there were industrious fisherman out on the water in elaborately-carved junks, casting their nets out while distant cooking fires were lit in anticipation. Jane sketched them as quickly as she could, saving the details for the architectural backdrop behind them. A moss weathered dome surrounded by tents and rickety, stilted towers. A toppled pillar next to a half-submerged stone face like the fossilized head of some long dead giant. 

It reminded her of Athens, or the holiday she’d taken with father to Rome. A people living in the literal shadows of their own history, monuments of proud glories turned bittersweet mausoleums to grander times long since past. 

A single drop of water hit the page, smearing the lines of graphite. Jane sniffed and rubbed at her eye.

“Are you…alright?”

Jane squeaked and shot to her feet, nearly tangling in her own skirts and falling over right in front of-

Princess Kidagakash, looking every much like a warrior even absent of her stone spear and bits of armor. Her trim, muscled arms crossed over her chest and her brow furrowed, no doubt trying to figure out what nonsense Jane was embarrassing herself with.

“Princess!”Oh Lord, of all the people to have come along and catch her balling. Wiping her eyes as quickly as possible, Jane squared her shoulders and raised her chin properly. Kidagakash was royalty after all, not Jane’s royalty per se, but Father always stressed during travel it was only proper to respect the local customs. “No, I am not- that is to say, yes, I am quite all right. Very kind of you to ask. Is there something I can-?” Oh bollocks, Atlantean, Jane. Atlantean. “ T…taneb, gesu se kik?”

The Princess’ lips quirked as though Jane had told a joke. “Close. ‘Se kik’ would be you asking if you are helping me at this moment. Gesu go mik is closer to offering future assistance.”

Convallaria muh-jay-liss, Janey dear. 

“Agh, of course.” Jane reprimanded herself and, cursing her lack of bloody pockets, dived down to one of her available papers and scribbled a note about tense suffixes. “I apologize, Princess. Please, how may I be of service?”

She chuckled, a low dignified sound. “You may start by unburdening both of us with the heavy ceremony, Jane Porter. My friends call me Kida.”

“Ah, well if we are to be dropping formality Prin- Kida,” she hastily corrected herself. “My friends call me Jane.”

“As you say.” That smirk was back, teasing Jane in a way that made her feel like she were a small mouse at the mercies of a smug cat. Kida walked to the water’s edge next to Jane, bent down and picked up Jane’s journal with the page open to an unfinished sketch. First name basis or not, Jane wrestled back her urge to rush up and snatch it from Kida’s curious hands. 

She flipped through the pages crammed with Jane’s writing with little patience, pausing at a quick doodle perhaps, before finally ending on the last page. Her finger brushed against the paper, testing something, and abruptly snapped the journal shut. 

“You are very talented,” Kida handed it back to her. Turning towards the city, with its toppled edifices and sleepy junks floating in the water, she said- almost to herself. “You see it too, do you not? How we live surrounded with constant reminders of what we once were, so that we can never escape from just how far we have fallen.”

She looked to Jane, her face grim. “It moved me to tears too, long ago. Now I fear I have little to spare.”

“I don’t think you- it is nothing of the sort.” Jane assured her. “We came down here expecting ruins. Instead we have…what must be the greatest single archaeological discovery in human history: a living, breathing, thriving culture!”

Kida shook her head. “It is true, our people live, but we are not thriving down here. Barely eking enough to last to the next day, while the dream of all that we were slowly wears away like water on a stone.”

Jane worried at her lower lip, hugging her journal to her chest and exhaled- “I- it was. When you came. I was looking at the city- your city- and it struck me at that moment how unbelievable it was that it was real and I was there to see it. And I only thought: if only my father were here to see this, and it got me to blubbering a little.”

She sniffled again, because that was exactly what she needed, losing her composure in front of a stranger, first names or not. 

“I…am sorry,” Kida said. “I should not have-” She frowned, grasping at unfamiliar words. “May I ask why he could not participate in your journey?”

“He died.” Jane said, because it was easier to keep it simple. “Not even a year ago.”

Kida put her hand on her heart, grasping the crystal on her neck, and uttered what must have been a prayer- the words too low for Jane to fully make out. Nish…may his spirit? Embrace the…kerod? Heart? Or the spirits embrace his heart?

It was a lovely sentiment, and as much as Jane was touched it could not dull the bite out of her bitterness. “When he died, it was in disgrace. His colleagues saw to that.”

Kida raised an eyebrow. “Disgrace? What act would disgrace his honor?”

“He believed in you.” At her taken-aback look, Jane quickly corrected herself. “That is- in all of you. In Atlantis.” She gestured up at the world above the unseen ceiling of the cavern. “Back on the surface Atlantis is less than a myth. It’s a fairy tale, mere allegoric…cannon fodder for Plato’s ideal of some male-dominated utopia. Nothing a real scholar would waste a career pursuing.”

All the petty snickers, snide commentary and peer-reviewed floggings of so-called legitimate scholars. She choked on that anger she’d been swallowing down for years- less she wind up crying after all. 

“Being here is your way to honor him,” Kida said.

“Something of that sort, I suppose.”

“And…your mother?”

“With father,” Jane replied with more aplomb. “The pox took her when I was a little girl.”

��I lost my mother as well,” Kida said sympathetically. “In the Mebelmok. I do not remember much of her- it happened when I was small, and it was so long ago. I cannot even recall what her voice sounded like.”  

“If it weren’t for photographs I’m not sure I would remember her face,” Jane said. “Father let me keep some of her perfume- and sometimes when I smell it I remember- wait. Mebelmok. That means…’Great Flood’.”

Kida blinked at the change of topic, but nodded. “Yes, that is correct.”

“But I thought- the original fall of Atlantis-” Jane shuffled through her journal- her theories about the alleged single-night calamity. “Yes, it is also called the Great Flood.”

“There is no ‘also,’” Kida explained. “The Mebelmok brought an end to our empire and cast us below the waves.”

“But the way you spoke of it sounds as if…if you had been there.”

“Of course. I was very young, but I still remember the panic, the people fleeing, my mother-” Kida’s fingers wrapped around her bare wrist. “It is a difficult thing to forget.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insinuate, but if what you’re saying is true, then you must be…” Jane boggled at the math. “Eight and half thousand years old?”

Kida shrugged. “Give or take a century.”

Jane swallowed around the foot in her mouth. White hair notwithstanding, She looked no older than Jane was- albeit far…fitter. “I. Well. You…look. You look lovely.”

“Pag en,” Kida thanked her with a pleased smile.

“But…but…how is this even possible?”

“It is our yoben,” Kida lifted the crystal hanging around her neck, set right near her heart, and cupped it in her hand like one would a butterfly. “Every Atlantean is gifted one on their naming, granting us long life and healing our hurts.”

“Like back at the cavern,” Jane almost felt the twinge in her chest, remembering the strange sensation of Kida’s hand pressed the crystal to the wound. Her reticence forgotten in the purest curiosity, Jane thoughtlessly closed the distance between them and took the crystal from Kida’s hand, examining its shape and facets, mesmerized by its gentle glow. 

“But where do they all come from?” Jane looked up from the crystal to ask her, and realized too late how Kida had stiffened. “Is something wrong?”

Kida moved slowly to reclaim her crystal from Jane’s unresistant fingers, remembering just how easily this hardened woman with a body like a dagger could have done so much more forcefully. 

“Among my people…” Kida explained slowly. “Taking hold of another’s yob is a very…familiar gesture.”

Jane already felt a self-conscious heat flush her cheeks. “Familiar?”

“How do I say…? It is like holding another’s…nish? No, their…karod.”

Karod? Wait which one was that? “Their…heart?”

“Yes! Like holding another persons’ heart in your hand. It is a…powerful gesture of trust.”

Mortified, Jane let the crystal drop and took a step backwards, stammering. “Kida, I am so- I didn’t mean t-”

“You did not know,” Kida shook her head, smile surprisingly gentle for having her person so rudely trespassed. “Ignorance is no grave sin, so long as it is rectified.”

“Thank you.” Jane ducked her head, still completely appalled with herself. “You’ve already been far too generous with the likes of me.” 

“A thousand years ago, I might not have been.” The gentle, patient smile on Kida’s face passed into something grim and unrecognizable; only then did the full weight of Kida’s admission of her age truly settled on Jane. 

“Kida-” Jane opened her mouth and faltered on a question she did not even know.

Like a fresh tide, the distant expression on Kida’s face was gone, and she looked up at Jane to declare: “I find myself hungry. Would you like to break your fast with me?”

“I think the camp can do without me, for a while longer.”

The morning meal was served in a large communal hut on the water, open on all sides to keep the air free of smoke from the central cooking pot. 

Jane was personally not one for seafood, but with eighty or so centuries of practice, Atlanteans had learned how to prepare their constant diet of fish, moss, mushroom, mollusk, and seaweed with enough variety that Jane found a few dishes she enjoyed, though she was still averse to the grotesque giant prawn-like creatures Kida and Cookie had enjoyed eviscerating with gusto.

Many Atlanteans entered and left the hut without even touching any of the dishes. They were certainly obvious about their curiosity of the weydagosen, the outsider, but ultimately they only had eyes for their Princess. 

Kida held a impromptu court of sorts while she sat on the floor cross-legged, ate, and spoke with her people. They brought their complaints of fish shortages in their districts, came to her to arbitrate disputes between neighbors, or ask for her opinion on matters of policy and distribution of scarce resources. 

Her father may still had been considered King, but Jane wondered if Kida were aware of the mantle of queenship about her as she patiently listened to her people’s concerns. Precious wood from a section of the city overgrown with thin, reedy trees were deemed a fair exchange for another’s fresh clay. A pair of squabbling men left mutually dour but respectful of their Princess’ verdict. Frustrated fishermen were sternly reminded that spawning grounds were to be left in peace to maintain their fragile population of food, and that royal guards would not be lenient to those that favored selfishness above the needs of the community.

Jane stayed quiet and jotted down as much as she could in her journal, taking careful note of the words and inflections of the conversations to mortar the gaps of her knowledge of Atlantean. She attempted to draw Kida as well, but her pencils faltered at the curve of her bare shoulder or the details of her muscled middle. Most of Jane’s artistic expertise was calligraphy and blocky ruins, and after several failed attempts to properly depict the inimitable shape of her lips, Jane returned to the much more manageable task of learning a lost language.   

The universal shriek of children at play made her start, and Jane watched a group of them scamper by and jump into the water like otters at play. When they dove below the water, the light of their crystals danced beneath the surface.

If Kida were truly that age or younger during the Great Flood, then those five year-olds could very well be older than Charlemagne. Jane was both in awe and a little envious- but quickly blanched at the thought of having her awkward teen years extended by a few centuries.

Her eyes drew themselves to Kida’s crystal again. It was no more remarkable than any of the others her fellow Atlanteans wore, but like the icy fractals of a snowflake, its cut was unique, and the glow shining through its facets painted interested shadows across Kida’s chest as it swayed on its cord. 

Jane’s hand unconsciously felt the scar on her own chest. The wound had been deep and stinging when Kida had pressed crystal against it, briefly leaving a ghostly hand print at the spot. Now it was nothing more than a numb scar that looked years old. 

“Does that still pain you?” 

Kida’s voice made Jane start. A pair of ageless women across the room whispered something and giggled. 

“No,” Jane forced the hand from the scar to her lap and held it there. “Not at all. I’m quite alright, thank you.”

“Good. I was not sure it was going to work on you, when I had tried it. We rarely have need to heal any wounds but our own, and never an Outsider’s.”

Jane nodded, made wordless by a thought:

What did such a thing signify, to use your heart on another person?

“Are you busy tonight?” Kida asked her. Jane nearly choked on her seaweed dish. 

She swallowed and coughed. “I beg your pardon?”

Kida glanced around the hut at the other Atlanteans busy with food and conversation. “There is something I wish to show you later. Alone. Can you come?”

“Show me what?”

“Something I have managed to keep hidden for a long time.” Considering something, she looked Jane up and down. “Do you swim?”

“Well…yes, but I-” Jane gestured at her stained shirt and long skirt. “I didn’t exactly come prepared to.”

“Oh, that is alright,” Kida said agreeably. “It will only be the two of us, after all.”

For the remainder of the meal, Kida shared her giant prawn with a small girl that had sat down on her lap and chatted with the girls’ parents, all the while Jane felt she was perhaps sitting too close to the the cooking fire, her journal and bag untouched until they finally left.