#best fronds forever

[montereybayaquarium]

People who get excited about sunrises,

sunsets...

the moon...

a sky full of stars...

and deep connections...

are our kind of people. ✨ 💙 🌊

[writesailingdreams]

What are your ideas on Amphibia’s idea of self-love and how it’s tackled?

I’m afraid I don’t have very in-depth thoughts (or more precisely I hadn’t thought about this idea until asked*). But from my few days brewing on it my answer is: I think it’s idea of self-love is something I would have been grateful for when I was Anne’s age and I think it’s tackled pretty well.

As an addendum, I felt only Anne really had an arc defined by discovering self-love. To me, Marcy’s arc was about coming to term with facing unpleasant things, and Sasha’s was recognizing how she wanted to be a better person/grow. I also don’t see any of the Plantars needing to learn self-love. Sprig might come closest but to me, his arc is more about finding a friend, someone who will actually like him/spend time with him, and it’s less him learning to love himself but finding the friend who will love the himself he already is pretty open about expressing/seems to like.

As to what I mean in more specifics (because of course), I’m having a hard time arranging it my head coherently. But essentially: I felt Anne’s arc to self-love was handled very gradually.

She’s starts out (Best Fronds) as very concerned with what her friends will think if she isn’t agreeable to what they say; she has to be likable, she has to be what others want her to be. But then she meets Sprig (and family) and live in Wartwood, where she has to make decisions on her own/withiut her usual friends. Wartwood is disturbed & distrustful but she earns their trust & respect (Toad Tax). Then later there’s Wally’s bit of “you can be whoever you want to be here” advice and her becoming less worried about whether she’s the “town weirdo” (Wally and Anne). Then there’s the whole Reunion bit with Sprig defending her and saying she’s a good person & brave & not going to be pushed around; she’s someone—as she has presented herself in Wartwood—of value and love (at least in the eyes of this pink frog boy. See this is why I get so emotional about these two?)

I’d say there’s less direct instances in S2a (at least nothing immediately jumps to mind), but by the time she’s there she has had some growth. I think this is most evident in her relationship with Marcy. By the end of her stay in Newtopia, she’s opened up to Sprig (and vice versus) (Hopping Mall). She’s learning to express how she feels and be okay with that. So by the time the show gets to Bessie and Microangelo (I love that ep), she’s happy with herself. (Oh, Tritonio helped, less in his ultimate goal reveal but in instilling in Anne an actually desire to work at something and see herself as worthy as be capable of working at something. Oh, and Stumpy’s statement that her parents would proud of what she did feels like it boosted some kind of ‘You’re ideas may be over the top but they come from a good place.”)

Like omg! To 13 yr old me those kinds subtle and but very clear & audial expressions of my value and worth would have been amazing. Maybe it’s okay to just be the weirdo you are. Maybe others *will* like you. Maybe someone will be your friend even if you share your weird and sentimental feelings. Aaaah! (Heck, I’m in my 30s and I’d still love this).

In that sense, to me, Anne’s self-love grew very much from the space where others (frogs) allowed her to be who she was and as she grew more expressive, she became more sure of herself and the more sure she became the more self-love was genuine. Anyway, I think it’s beautiful.

*this ask reminded me that I’ve been wanting to rewatch Amphibia; I have been reminded that I usually dig my teeth into fandom media when it’s complete, One Piece being the nearest thing to an exception and even then (1) it’s a lot easier to analyze Ace than other characters and (2) I usually narrowly focus or broadly react

[duchesschameleon]

day one (a kazansky for america fic)

summary: day one in the oval office for the Kazansky Administration rating: G for everyone warnings: none read this fic on ao3

a long awaited third installment in the kazansky for america series, my top gun west wing au. thank you as always to @qvid-pro-qvo for the beta. enjoy!

“Well, this is certainly the grandest office we’ve moved into,” Carole says, head on a swivel as she looks around the west wing.

“Probably going to be the last one we move into,” Ice adds on, leading the way through the hallways and towards the Oval Office. He tries to ignore the historical significance of this office, of this position, and treat it like any other move-in day, but it’s difficult. Everywhere he looks, there’s a piece of history staring back at him.

“Oh, Mr. President, I’d like to see the day you actually retire from work. You’ll keep doing something and needing an office, even after this,” Carole retorts as they wind through to the outer Oval. “You’ll be doing something and Maverick and I will be right by your side, helping out however we can.”

Ice rolls his eyes but stays quiet. He knows Carole is right. “You know it’ll be Mav’s idea, whatever comes next.” Carole nods her head, conceding the point.

“Hey, how about we focus on getting in here and doing at least four years of work before we plan on what’s next?” a voice says, right behind him. Ice stiffens at the sudden closeness of another body, only relaxing when he recognizes his partner.  

“Hmm, but before we can do any work here, I believe we have some balls to attend,” Ice says, leaning back slightly into Mav, wanting to be close to him. He spares a moment of relief and wonder that this is his life. He still can’t believe he gets this, gets to have this incredible man by his side, and in this office with him.

Mav makes a face, looks at Ice apologetically. “Yeah, there’s actually a little work to be done before we party, Mr. President.”

Ice’s spine straightens instinctually at that, something about Mav saying it that triggers the reaction. It’s his title now, officially. Forever. A title that now refers to him, not a warning that someone’s coming he needs to impress and be on his best behavior for.

No, now he has to be on his best behavior and do the best job of his life. All eyes are on him.

“That’s gonna take some getting used to,” he mutters before shaking his head and meeting his partner’s gaze. His partner’s, his chief of staff’s, proud gaze. “Alright, then let’s get to work.”

The afternoon becomes a blur, senior staff coming in and out of the Oval, each of them pausing for a moment to look around and be a little awed by the room. If he wasn’t still adjusting to this being his office now, he would have laughed at them. Especially Bradley.

“Kinda crazy, isn’t it?” he says to his pseudo-nephew and deputy chief of staff once they’ve wrapped up their conversation.

“Kinda?” Bradley snorts. “It’s completely crazy. Can’t believe we’re finally here.” He pauses and looks around before meeting Ice’s gaze again. “Dad would have loved to see this. Woulda been telling us he told us so, that you would be here, and then have some ideas about decorating the place.”

Ice laughs, picturing Goose circling the room completely at ease. He could just imagine the suggestions he’d have to bring some relaxed, California flair to the Oval Office.

“We’d have palm fronds in here within a week, probably less if he got your mom in on it.”

Bradley chuckles, shaking his head. “Within a day. She’d never be able to say no to him.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” 

They stand there, soaking in the room and thinking about the family who isn’t with them today.

“Mr. President, you’ve got -“ Mav pauses, seeing Bradley. “Hey, kiddo. Everything good?”

Bradley nods. “We’re good, I just had to see the Oval and go over something. I’m leaving now though.” He turns back to Ice, “Thank you, Mr. President.”

Ice just nods, a little overwhelmed hearing Bradley address him so formally. They’d tried to be as professional as possible throughout the campaign, but late nights and exhaustion from being on the road would creep in and no one stopped them from being more familiar with each other. Now, there was a constant reminder of his title all around them, a stark reminder of the position he now held.

It’ll take some getting used to the formality of the office, he thought again.

“Mr. President, you good?” Mav asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“I’m good, Pete,” he says, turning and smiling at his husband. “Just adjusting to the office. The title.”

Pete huffs out a laugh. “That’s what the transition period was for, ease you into the title and the office. Make sure we’re all prepared.”

“Yeah, well, talking about it and actually being here in the Oval and having everyone - including you and Bradley - addressing me so formally, it’s different.”

“This whole thing is different, Tom,” Pete says, dropping the title to make Tom really look at him and pay attention to his words. “This is the first day of the last job you are ever going to have. You’re the President of the United States, the biggest job you could have. You’re the first gay man in the Oval Office, that adds pressure and importance.”

Tom knows it’s true, had remarked on it himself when he stepped through the door earlier that day. But to hear Pete say it, to put it so plainly and point out just how important this job and his win back in November is, and that they somehow made it to today, to inauguration day, makes him pause.

He’s the President of the United States of America. The first gay president, and he’s married by common law to his Chief of Staff.

“Holy shit, I’m the president,” he whispers. “Pete, I’m the president. I got sworn in today. We’re here. We’re really here.”

Pete smirks and moves next to Tom, wraps an arm around him. “We’re really here, babe.”

They stand together like that for a moment, taking it all in. Pete rests his head on Tom’s shoulder, shifts his eyes to check his watch and notes the time. They can take this moment, this minute to revel in what they’ve accomplished.

“Okay, we gotta get back to it, Mr. President,” Pete says quietly, presses a kiss to Tom’s shoulder. “There’s a few more reports and memos to go through before we can call it a night and head back to the residence and change for the ball.”

Tom let out a sigh and nodded. “Before we get back to work, just give me one kiss?”

Pete smiles and obliges him, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his husband’s lips. “C’mon, back to work. It’s day one,” Pete says again, “there’ll be time for that over the next four years.”

“Okay, then. What’s next?”

[br1ghtestlight]

rudy being the only person that louise feels safe to talk to about her feelings in this fic is incredibly sweet but also so stupid bcuz he is also nine years old and has NOTHING helpful to say he's just like uhh R u good louise? like at least talk to mr frond about this. at least schedule an appointment with a therapist. or TALK TO YOUR FATHER

(louise feels like she can't talk to anybody in her family bcuz they'll blame her and it'll make everything worse so she just shuts them out completely at the risk of losing them forever. rudy has less of a personal connection to the situation so he feels safe & trustworthy because he's louise's friend and not a Family Friend. it's just really hard for a nine year old to know what to do and she just wants to talk to her best friend tbh. she just wants to be with him </3)

[ceciffeinated]

softer to the touch (i). | ꒰ diluc ragnvindr ╲ concept - short story ꒱

⪩ ☁︎．pairing: diluc ragnvindr × femme!reader (second pov). ⪩ ☁︎．scenario: mondtstadt. ⪩ ☁︎．warning: null. sfw. heavily implied romance. ⪩ ☁︎．note (i): this fic is pretty much self-indulgent, therefore, very much of a self - insert.

യ．about the reader:

you're a very affectionate person. your aren’t afraid to show that you are the one who’s going to make the first move in doing favors/lending a hand/offering a gift. whether it was with purpose or not, you don’t let your affectionate side be overshadowed with embarrassment. after all, you’re quite used to giving out endearment.

you are also quite a little bit frond of skinship. there is not a day where you cannot give hugs to your favorite people in the whole wide world.

kaeya? you best friend. but you do not follow his drinking habits, so hugs came in a sober mindset.

klee? she’s your semi-adopted child and you aren’t that afraid of her explosives. besides, she really loves it and begs on the daily for hugs at least ten times a day.

lisa? she’s a bit hesitant… she’s not that big of affection herself, but she allows an occasional squeeze. it has to end as soon as it started, though.

amber? like klee, you two are like sworn sisters to give hugs to each other at any time of the day. therefor, she, klee, and you formed a self-made trio of huggers, despite not you being a part of the knights. (kaeya wanted to join, too, but he’s a guy, so he’s off-limits; jokingly).

യ．about/to diluc ragnvindr:

to say diluc ragnvindr is capable of showing any signs of fondness would take a liar like kaeya to make it sound legitimate. after all, he may be the owner of the biggest winery across mondt... he may the one of the dignified young man in the region... he may be the ‘calm, unperturbed, almost princely’ gentleman... he may the most dedicated and region-serving anti-hero persona... but he’s not expressive of any sentiment - friendly or intimately. as far as anyone is concerned, everyone in mondt could agree that diluc is not demonstrative when it comes to showcasing love. most of them assume he prefers as little to none at all. 

but... they aren’t completely right about their so-called ‘truth’.

if anything... it’s diluc who is the most touch-starved individual that ever existed in the region of mondt. but no one knows about this at all. they had no idea that the diluc they’ve known is just part of the diluc who actually has another side. 

but where did the ‘other side’ came from?

it came from the day he met you. 

യ．your backstory/story (i):

it was when you were a new resident in mondt. you just transferred from your home region, and moved in to mondt to live a fresher, newer life. things back at home were great, but you felt there is a world that awaits you outside the walls and borders of your home region... so you packed up your bags and embarked on an adventure that might and could change your life for the better (or for the worse). either way, you are more than ready to see the bigger world underneath your feet, in front of your eyes, and within your grasp. 

when you reached mondt, you were gleefully welcomed by its archon, the adorable singing bard named venti. he was a mischievous lad, but you grew fond of him the moment he started singing hymns and odes about mondt. it sounds as if he was enchanting you to pick mondt as your finally place for home... and that there’s no other home for you but mondt and only mondt.

to say he succeeded was an understatement... admittedly, as he toured you across town, across the nearby forests, across wonderful rolling hills, across magnificent and historic ruins of the region, you immediately fell in love. with one sight to another, you concluded undoubtedly that mondt is the region your heart has been desiring.

the moment you moved in and told venti you’re staying a forever in mondt, he was ecstatic. to commemorate, he brought you to a prominent winery to make you feel officially welcomed in your new home. 

when you both arrived, the first person who greeted you was a blue-haired, eye-patched, charming and devilish cavalry captain named kaeya alberich. 

venti quickly stepped in and introduced you to him and you two immediately became fast friends. kaeya quickly warmed up to you and venti was once again delighted that you finally have another friend... this time, the popular blue liar. (apologies, the author means the popular blue poppy-peacock). 

when you entered the tavern, you immediately felt like you’re at home. you’re not speaking as if you live in a tavern. what you simply mean with the sentiment is that the tavern gives off vibes as if you were staying in a good home... 

maybe it has to do with the warmth that was radiating off the walls of the tavern. maybe it has something to do with the laughter and jeering shared among the drinkers. maybe it was something to do with the shared fellowship among the customers with one another. well, whatever you’re reason is, you shared your sentiment with kaeya and he looked elated that this is what you think of “dawn winery”, the most popular and distinguished tavern all across mondt.

(he didn’t tell you he also owned it, since he doesn’t want to intimidate, although, you don’t seem easily unnerved). 

he and venti led you the counter-table, where kaeya himself usually sits. 

“what do you want to try (y/n)? oh, where are my manners... i’ll order one for you since you’re a new resident here,“ kaeya said.

“don’t be ridiculous,” venti piped up, his tinkling laughter resonating. “let (y/n) order for themselves.”

“but they have no idea what the winery serves,” kaeya reasoned. 

“oh, i think i know what to do,” you said. you saw a little bell at the corner of the long table. you reached out for it and with your instincts, you rang for it, whilst exclaiming, “hello!“

kaeya and venti was a little taken aback by your show of boldness. but they didn’t let it get in the way and joined it. 

venti kindly asked for the bell and he rang it as if he was playing a tune with it. it was a for a while until he realized the bell actually cannot hold the tune. that’s when kaeya asked for his turn. to be honest, from the very first minute you saw kaeya, you felt as if he’s a bad news... a wholesome bad news, nonetheless. so you anticipated for his move.

kaeya. rang. the. ball. as. straightly. as. possible.

he didn’t attempt to do what venti had done. he just rang the bell as if he was an impatient hotel customer ringing profusely at the counter. 

you were giggling behind your palm. you didn’t try to stop kaeya at all. venti looked like he wanted kaeya to stop, but like you, he found amusement in his works, though he didn’t openly encouraged him. 

it was only a matter of time until a black coat appeared in front of you. 

when kaeya immediately stopped at the mysterious presence, you looked up yourself. and saw the face of diluc ragnvindr glaring down at the likes of you... or at the likes of kaeya. 

⪩ ☁︎．note (ii): republished for archiving purposes; heavy wip; under semi-hiatus.

[doctor-fancy-pants]

Reefscape

You’ve heard about the colours, from poetry and books and documentaries. You dream of pinks and yellows and purples and greens, about platforms and mountains and castles of coral, but it doesn’t look that way when you get down there.

You forgot about the blue.

This is where blue is born. Down here blue swallows the light and with it, all the colours you dreamed of. At four and a half metres, you lose red. The brightest and best beloved of colours and it’s gone, just like that.

Fell straight through a school of trevally. Keep equalising: pinch nostrils and blow gently through the nose until the ears pop.

Fall softly another three metres in your gentle descent, and orange is lost. Hard to notice it yet because all you can see now are the flitting shapes of fish, and something that makes a darker patch against the blue, almost too subtle to perceive. No matter how hard you stare, you can’t be sure it’s even there.

Check the gauge. Fourteen metres. Cruising depth until we hit the drop-off. I check with my buddy, the lazy hand signal we don’t even think about anymore after this many years on compressed air – OK? OK – and I pinch my nose and equalise again before continuing on.

The reef is below you now, and yellow is gone. All you can see is blue, and indigo, and brown – so many browns. Ochre, sienna, umber. The world down here is a paintbox of tertiary colours, but your brain fills in the gaps. Your brain adapts and starts to interpret the shades, the browns that should be purples against the browns that should be yellows.

You breathe slowly.

Fish surround you in clouds: tiny dottybacks darting to and fro; little dancing boxfish with their awkward, ungainly wiggles; a reef shark gliding a few feet away, curious but cautious. Staghorn corals look for all the world like a patch of briar, hiding a suspicious shrimp within their stony tangles, and table-top corals offer a stage for a tiny troupe of dancing fish. A feather star clings to the top of a coral mound, arms outstretched into the current. The surface of the mound is covered in fluffy cones, the purple, the yellow, the turquoise of the Christmas tree worms. Unable to resist, you wave a hand and watch them disappear from view as they yank their vulnerable fronds back into their burrows.

You’ve heard that it’s a vivid and silent world, but that’s a lie too. It’s never silent.

Not while you’re here.

I listen to the bubbles, to the little catch as the valve in the regulator flicks back – breathe in, count four – and forth – breathe out, count four. It’s never silent. This sound is my heartbeat, down here. I can’t breathe without it. I can’t even see without the mask, my flimsy piece of tempered plastic and silicon. Comfortable, now, settled into the dive, it’s time to pull out the torch. It’s time to put the colours back.

Small circles now of bright colours jump out at you, a long beam of light that down here looks red. The worms are turquoise; the feather star is crimson; the dottybacks are purple and yellow, but only while you fix them with your torch. The moment they shift out of that beam, they become sepia-toned shadows. The colours run and fade.

Water in my mask. I straighten up, as though I’m standing and levitating, and I tip my head back. I clear my mask. The process is so much easier here. At home the water is rough and cloudy and vicious and cold, beautiful in its own way, but it makes manoeuvring more difficult. It’s not fair to make the comparison. I can’t help it.

Now you reach the drop-off. They call it a wall, because you can swim alongside it, but it’s a cliff. It drops forever – maybe miles – below you. You see the vertical plunge of the rock, covered in scatters of coral and weed, haunted by lazy sharks and the lazier remoras riding their wake.

You look down as you glide over the edge, dipping a fin this way and that to steer, and you can’t see the bottom. Miles down, you think. The continental shelf. The torch hangs limp in your hand. The depth would swallow the beam in blue.

Hungry, breathless blue.

---

Context/prompt: in 2013, my husband and I spent five days on a live-aboard dive boat exploring the Great Barrier Reef - the less damaged portions are a decent way off shore. Diving in the tropics is very different to diving in Melbourne, as you can probably imagine. I wrote this in 2014, because even a year later my memories of that extraordinary environment were still so vivid.

[brief explainer: I've been thinking for a while bout putting up some of the creative writing I do. Short pieces, the "drabbles" that I write in one of my weekly writing groups in response to prompts. Should I put these on my main "long pieces" blog? Or on the Tumblr? And I've decided: sod it, I'll do both. So now and again you'll get some creative writing, in amongst the usual rants and reflections. I hope you like it - please tell me if you do!]

[camaro-and-smokes]

Little Siren

I wrote this little fairy tale as a gift for @medusapelagia as part of @harringroveholidayexchange.

You can read it also on AO3 >>

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler (mentioned briefly) Tags: Fairy Tale Style, Mermen, Merman Billy Hargrove, AU Magical Realism, Light Angst, Happy Ending, First Meetings, Feelings Realization Words: 9,516

::::::::::

Once upon a time, in a parallel plane, not quite like in fairy tales but not quite like ours either, was a vast city with skyscrapers climbing towards the sky, glass and metal glinting in the sunlight. The city rose along the shore of a vast sea that was wider than it was deep, but still deep enough to hide secrets under its surface of which stories were told, but no human had ever lived to tell the tale… 

Sunlight filtered through gentle waves and it flickered across Beacher's–Billy's–tanned skin and his red and golden tail. He glided through the water, his powerful tail propelling him forward as his goldfish-like fins rippled gracefully on his sides and the end of his tail. Through the shimmering beams of sunlight, he took in the beauty of the underwater world that surrounded him. 

Schools of silvery fish flashed by, their scales glinting in the light, and delicate strands of kelp swayed back and forth, tickling Billy's sides as he parted them. In the distance, the hulking shadow of a whale drifted past. 

Billy paused in front of a pearliest of pearly shells, floating in place as he brushed back his long blond hair. He gazed at his reflection in it, admiring his long eyelashes, his muscular torso and his strong tail, pursing his lips and winking at himself. He appreciated the beauty of his siren form and the powerful force of his deceitful voice that drew seamen to their demise every time. 

He drifted lazily through the sun-dappled water, webbed fingers trailing over swaying kelp fronds. In the distance above him, the shadowy silhouette of a ship appeared, and his eyes brightened. Swimming closer, he could make out the shape of a fishing boat. A perfect opportunity for some entertainment. 

Billy began to sing, his voice rising eerily through the water. "Come closer, my hearties...let me guide your way..."

His voice echoed like a haunting melody across the waves. On board the ship, the crew paused in their tasks, faces blank. As one, they turned towards the railing, following the irresistible song. 

With a victorious smile, Billy circled beneath the keel, still singing. The crew leaned over the sides, eyes glazed and vacant. “Come, come, just a little closer...”

The men were already climbing over the railings, ready to jump into the ocean, and Billy laughed victoriously, breaking the spell he'd cast. 

Shouting in alarm, the sailors stopped and climbed back onto the deck. 

Billy breached the surface and watched in amusement as the crew scurried about on the deck. Humans were fun to toy with.

But he had slowly grown tired of these games since they always ended up the same way. Also, he didn’t want to be forever trapped under the eye of his ever watchful and harsh father, the King of the Merfolk.

He’d tried to flee many times. The furthest he’d ever gone from his father’s realm was the border of the other seas that met theirs. He’d never crossed to the other side, for those seas were cold and their waters murky, and Billy had realised that he didn’t like that. His father had always been gleeful about his return, telling him how he’d known that his son wouldn’t be built for such harsh living conditions. 

Knowing there was no other place to go, Billy had swallowed his pride and tried to do his best to settle for life in this sea. 

But when a big, hardcover ship, the like Billy had never seen before, had sunk and laid to rest on a ledge in a deep trench where Billy often spent his time exploring the world that was so different from the waters he lived in, where sun still shone through the waves, his desire to experience something new had been sparked anew. 

He’d spend hours upon hours feasting on the decks with his fellow sirens, not believing that so many humans could travel on one ship. But when the feast ended, he’d explored the ship’s insides and the strange structures and materials that were on board. 

And there, in one cabin, he’d seen it. This strange thing, as if several leaves were put together, filled with scribbles and displays of the human world. He’d admired the different depictions of humans and their world in it, colourful and strange.

He’d kept it hidden and taken it out only when he was alone. He was sure no other siren would understand his interest over the life on land above, so he treasured it and kept it as his own secret. When it eventually dissolved, Billy remembered each depiction by heart. They filled his mind when he wasn’t exploring the sunken ship, and consumed by the miracles of the human world, he became more convinced day by day that he wanted to experience the world above the waves for himself.

Billy swam further from the ship and breached the surface, looking at the distance where a sparkling skyline of a vast city rose along the shore. The large structures climbed towards the sky, glinting, as tall as the deepest depth Billy had ever dared to dive to. The low rumble of strange sounds and voices echoed across the water. 

What a world that must be , Billy thought wistfully. So full of life, so busy and chaotic . And somewhere in those glittering towers were people living out their lives. That was where he yearned to be. He longed to be among the people, to get lost in the crowds. To laugh, to cry, to live as the humans did. 

“I'll find a way,” he whispered to himself. "Soon, I will." 

For now, he could only observe the alluring city from afar. But he was determined to uncover the secrets the shore hid behind it. He would forge a connection between these two worlds, no matter the cost.

Invigorated, Billy dove back down into the cool blue depths. The image of the vibrant city remained in his mind as he swam, fuelling his growing resolve. An opportunity to make his dreams a reality would arise. 

And when that moment came, he would seize it without hesitation.

Billy swam through the swaying kelp forests, lost in thought. How does one trade fins for feet? How to cross that unfathomable divide between the realms?

In the distance, at the bottom of the sea, he could see the looming silhouette of a sunken ship. He realised, with gathering excitement, that what the wreck hid inside would offer him the chance he so much yearned for. Forgetting all the warnings of never to approach the shipwreck, he dove towards it, sunlight rapidly fading around him.

The ancient wreck was home to the legendary sea witch Morgana. Few dared approach her lair, but the rumours said she possessed power beyond any siren's wildest dreams. Power over life and death itself. 

Billy hesitated, conflicted, but for a mere moment. The longing to walk on land, to truly live as the humans did, burned bright inside him. This was the way. Taking a deep breath, Billy swam inside the wreck, shivering as coldness enveloped him. 

Strange plants glowed inside the rotting hull, casting an eerie shimmer around him. At the heart of it laid a chamber shrouded in shadow. "Come in, come in, little siren," a smooth voice purred. "I've been expecting you."

Morgana melted out of the darkness, eyes glinting. She was at once mesmerizingly beautiful and utterly despicable, with bright green, piercing eyes. Magic crackled at her fingertips.

Billy steeled himself. "I wish to live among humans. Can your magic make it so?"

The witch smiled slowly, sensing an opportunity. "For a price, my dear. For a price." She circled around Billy like a shark, her long black hair billowing around her and her floating umbrella tail with its poisonous tentacles under her. "You have a beautiful voice, little siren. Humans do anything just to hear you sing. Perhaps you could use it to get something I desire."

Billy lifted his chin defiantly. "And what is it you want?"

"A trifle, really," Morgana purred. "I shall grant you legs to walk among humans. But in return, you must bring me the tears of a human in love, freely given. Do this, and you can remain on land for the rest of your existence. Fail, and you will belong to me, forever."

Billy scowled, his bravado unwavering. To enchant a human and to make them believe their tears were of true love with his voice would be simple enough. Without another thought, Billy declared, “I accept your bargain.”

Morgana's smile turned cruel. "I thought you might, little siren." She began chanting in a strange tongue. 

The water around Billy churned violently. 

"One fortnight," Morgana said. "Bring me the tears or lose your freedom forever."

Billy gritted his teeth against the pain. When it subsided, a pair of human legs had replaced his shining red and golden tail. Wide-eyed, he looked up at Morgana, who was smiling a toothy smile, bearing her pin sharp teeth. 

“Go, my little siren, go fill your desire,” the witch croaked. “Go, walk among the crowds and fill the pact.”

Billy kicked upwards, breaching the surface. The city gleamed before him, impossibly big and bright. A cocky grin spread across his face as he imagined luring a puny human under his spell. His siren powers had never failed him before. Why should this be any different? 

"Finding some fool to declare their true love will be child's play," he boasted to himself. "I'll have those humans eating out of my hand."

When he arrived in the shallows, a clock tower chimed in the distance as if heralding his arrival. Billy took a deep breath, savouring his first lungful of the human realm. Exhilaration flooded through him. No matter what trials lay ahead, he would let nothing stop him from experiencing life on land. The time to put Morgana's bargain to the test had come.

But in all his arrogance, Billy hadn’t spared a thought for the sea witch's reputation for cunning and trickery. 

***

Billy crawled out from the sea foam and to the shore. His steps were first a little unsteady, feet unsure on the sandy shore as he stumbled on land for the first time. His cocky grin returned as he looked at himself, standing on the sand, wearing a red shirt, blue jeans and boots, the human clothes Morgana had granted him - and a dash of little magic that dried it all in a blink of an eye.

He started towards the city and the closer to the street on the side of the beach he walked, the more natural his feet and this new way of moving felt. And with each step, he was more convinced that he was ready to embrace whatever fate had in store.

With head held high, he imagined the fun he would have in this new world.

As he got closer to the broad walk, the sounds of the city engulfed him. Strange machines honked incessantly as they sped by on the street. Piercing wails sounded in the distance. The chatter of a thousand sounds melded into a dizzying din. 

Billy smiled and his eyes widened as he took in the towering structures reaching towards the sky. Their surfaces reflected the vibrant, bright lights that adorned every street. He closed his eyes as he took in a deep breath through his nose. The scent of pinching fumes and food overwhelmed his senses. 

He walked in a daze down the bustling streets, bombarded by sensations foreign to him. The shoes and the hard stone felt strange and unyielding beneath his feet, so unlike the soft sand of his underwater home. He ran his hands along the colourful walls, mesmerised by the colours of the ornaments and garments on display. Humans were standing by tables holding foods that smelled heavenly. Billy didn’t know what the foods were, but the scent alone made his mouth water. He had smelled nothing so tantalising. Some lively rhythmic sounds poured out of a doorway, blending with different ones from another one. 

Billy's eyes darted around, still struggling to take it all in. He had seen depictions of the towering structures in the leafy thing, and the metal machines barreling down the roads, but it was all so unfamiliar to him, too. There were no seashells or coral here, just hard rock and the same shiny metals and glass he’d seen in the sunken ship.

It was marvellous. Overwhelming. He had dreamed of this world for so long and everything in it filled all those dreams and more.

He spotted a young woman walking by herself down the sidewalk. Perfect. He would fill the pact at once and lure her with his siren song to shed the tears of true love for him right there on the spot. He opened his mouth, ready to let the magical notes flow. 

But only silence emerged. He strained, pushing with all his might, but not a single sound came. Panic rose in his chest. He grabbed at his throat, clawing desperately, willing his vocal cords to vibrate. Still nothing. 

A realisation dawned on him: Morgana had tricked him and stolen his voice.

Overcome with shock and despair, realising the cunning plan of the ancient witch, he felt dread creeping up his spine. How could he fulfil his part of the pact without his voice? All of a sudden, the seemingly simple task was out of his reach.

He collapsed against a lamppost, hands shaking. He had been foolish to trust her, naïve to think he could outwit the witch.

Now here he was, on land at last, but trapped, surrounded by wonders he could not communicate in. No voice meant no song. And no song meant no way to lure humans in.

He slammed his fist against the pole in frustration. The pain barely registered through his despair. 

The dazzling city that had so enthralled him now seemed to mock his predicament.

A street musician was strumming his guitar on the street corner. Billy let the melody wash over him, beautiful and bittersweet all at once. A couple strolled by, laughing and chatting animatedly. He gazed after them, a profound yearning rising within. How he envied their easy intimacy. A little girl holding her mother's hand, licking something white and melting in a cone and grinning from ear to ear. 

Such simple human pleasures, yet they cut him to the core. He was surrounded by life, by joy, by togetherness. And yet utterly excluded, the possibilities of him being able to join it all very slim.

The weight of this reality sank upon him. He was a mere visitor here, an outsider peering into a world that was not his own. Without his voice he had no way to fulfil his pact.

His fate was sealed. Morgana had won even before his journey had started, and he would have to return to the sea as her servant.

All he could do now was to try to find solace in the thought that at least he had a fortnight to wander the streets and soak himself in the wonders of the human world. 

And maybe, just maybe –a desperate and probably useless maybe–he could find a human who would fall in love with him in such a short time despite him being mute and shed the tears of true love he needed.

***

The street corner was bathed in the golden hour glow, pedestrians hurrying home as the day wound down. Steve strummed his guitar, fingers dancing across the strings, drawing out a melancholy melody. He played with his eyes closed, lost in the music. 

When he opened them to thank the bypasser, who tossed a few coins to his open guitar case on the ground, a flash of blond hair caught his attention and he glanced up.

A young man was leaning heavily against a lamppost, face etched with despair. Steve studied the stranger, taking in his striking, yet haggard, appearance. Steve could let it be, not pay attention and continue playing, but something about the man called out to him. 

Setting his guitar to its case and taking it with him, he approached the man with a gentle smile. Up close, the man's features were almost otherworldly. Long, blond hair fell on his shoulders and the bluest of blue eyes returned Steve's gaze, swimming with pain and fear.

“Hey,” Steve asked, “You okay?”

Tears falling on his face, the young man opened his mouth, but no words came out. 

Understanding dawned on Steve. "You can't speak?" he asked kindly. 

The man looked at him, frowning a little and cocking his head, as if he didn’t understand what Steve had said.

“You don’t speak English?”

The man still just looked at him, seemingly confused.

Steve placed his free hand on his chest. “I’m Steve. Are you new in town?”

A nod, a hesitant one.

Steve's smile broadened. “So you do understand some English?”

Another nod, more confident this time.

“Do you need help? I mean, are you alright?”

A slight shook of head.

Steve frowned and pondered for a moment. “You know, let me take you to a café and see if we find some way to communicate.” He held out his hand. “Come.”

The mute stranger eyed Steve for a long moment before accepting his hand. His grip was icy cold, but Steve didn't flinch.

Billy was stunned when he realised he could understand the man who had introduced himself as Steve. At least Morgana had given him that as a tool to somehow make sense of this new world. Maybe the situation wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined. Though Morgana had probably let him have all this, only because she knew that he’d be hers in the end. That made his stomach twist. No, she’d done it only to make his pain worse.

After a short walk, Steve steered them to a cosy café. The fresh aroma of roasted coffee enveloped them as they stepped in, and Steve ordered them each a coffee. 

They got their drinks and sat at a table by the large front window overlooking the street. 

Steve watched the quiet stranger examine the dark liquid with intent and took a sip. When he grimaced immediately at the bitter taste, Steve realised he’d just assumed the man drank coffee. “I’m so sorry! I probably should’ve ordered you a tea. I’ll get you one now,” he said and got up from the table to get one.

When he returned with a green tea, he sighed with relief when the stranger seemed to be happier with his new drink. Steve dug his jacket pockets and found a note and a pen. He handed them to stranger and asked, “Can you write your name here?” .

Billy examined the things Steve gave to him, not quite understanding what they were for. The sheet of something was similar as in the leafy thing, but it was empty. He took the stick in his hand and jumped a little on his seat when he pressed the nub on the other end and a sharp-looking edge popped out from the other one.

Seeing the man’s reaction, Steve reached out his hand and asked, “Can you write?” He took the pen and wrote his own name on the paper. "Like this?"

Billy had played with the sand on the shore when he’d sometimes gone there in the night time. He’d drawn shapes into it with his finger, but they’d always vanished with the tide. The only way he’d ever communicated was through speech and singing. He’d only seen similar tiny shapes Steve had made on the sheet in the thing that had been dissolved into the sea.

He dropped the stick on the table, frustrated, and looked away, crossing his arms. Of course he couldn’t communicate that way either.

“Hey,” Steve said softly. “It’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

While Steve wondered in his mind how he could communicate with the stranger, he talked to the man about things that were familiar to him: music and art, both his and others. It seemed to calm the stranger, to hear about things that didn’t remind him of his current situation. The stranger listened intently, eyes flickering between Steve and the world outside. Steve noticed the freckles that dusted the man’s cheekbones and the impossibly long lashes that surrounded the ocean blue eyes. Steve found himself getting lost in them. And even though the man couldn’t respond in words, his shy smiles and nods encouraged Steve to continue. 

As Billy sipped the strangely nice and warm liquid Steve had called tea, Steve kept up a steady stream of chatter about things unknown to Billy. The music was something Billy understood, of course, but he wasn’t sure what art specifically referred to, though. He was hoping Steve would show him what it was.

After they had finished their drinks, Steve still hadn’t yet come up with a way to communicate with the stranger. He was getting frustrated when it suddenly dawned on him and he smiled. “Hey, even if you can’t speak or write, I think there’s one way we can communicate, at least I hope so.” He stood up and reached out his hand again. “Come.” 

Exhilaration sparked in the stranger's blue eyes and he flashed a gorgeous smile at Steve.

Steve led the mute young man through the chaotic streets, gesturing excitedly at the vibrant city around them. He had decided to take the man to see a street that was well known for its stunning art pieces and graffiti. 

When they arrived, Steve looked at the man and saw him looking at the art curiously. "Check out that mural. Aren’t the colours incredible?" Steve exclaimed, pointing to a sprawling artwork on the side of one building. 

The stranger's eyes widened as he took in the blend of paints depicting fantastical creatures and landscapes. Especially interested he seemed to be about any creatures that were depicted to be living under the sea. Steve grinned at his new friend's awe. "The art here is something else. Each piece tells a story." 

Steve looked as the stranger seemed to find something specific further back in the wall, deeper in the alley, and he followed him to see what he’d found. When the stranger stopped, he pointed at the wall with a wide smile on his face for the first time. Then he pointed at himself.

There was a massive painting of the sea on the wall. All kinds of fishes, sharks, shellfish - and in the middle of it a gorgeous, blonde mermaid with a golden and red tail.

It felt as if Steve’s eyebrows had reached his hairline when they rose in surprise.“It’s yours, right? You painted it?” he asked.

The stranger shook his head and pointed at the mermaid again, then at himself.

Steve looked at the mermaid, then back at the stranger. He couldn’t deny there was something very similar in the two, but they didn’t exactly look alike. Steve had heard of mermaids, of course, everyone had. It was just that when someone had met them, they'd never been left alive to confirm if the stories were true. In those stories, mermaids weren’t beautiful innocent creatures, they were evil and hunted humans for sport. They were on top of their food chain.

But the stranger’s strangely captivating beauty hadn’t gone unnoticed by Steve, and it was as if he was already bewitched even though he had just met the man. 

A mermaid walking on the ground, though, with two feet instead of a fish's tail, that was a bit over the top. Magic like that didn’t exist.

And yet, for some reason, Steve wanted to believe that it was possible.

Instead of wondering out loud, he asked, “You modelled for it?”

Billy had hoped that Steve would’ve understood that it was him in the picture on the wall. He looked at it again and wondered if the artist had seen him swimming somwhere. They’d had to have. He looked at the painting wistfully, wishing so badly he had his voice back. Wishing he wasn’t locked in like this. Wishing he could fulfil his part of the pact soon.

When the stranger didn't answer - of course he didn't, he was mute - Steve asked, “Uh…you know, I was wondering…Would you be interested in seeing my art? My studio is here close by.” He blushed and looked down at the ground. “Uh, I don’t mean anything like…umm…I honestly mean art. If you’re interested.”

***

Steve unlocked the door to his studio apartment and led Billy inside. The space was small but bursting with colour and creativity. Pictures created on strange rectangular sheets leaned against every wall, covered in vivid paintings and sketches.

Billy's eyes widened as he took in Steve's expansive collection of work.

Steve set down his guitar and rushed to clear one chair that was hiding under a pile of clothes. “Uh, I’m sorry. It’s a bit crammed and messy. I wasn’t expecting any guests. Make yourself at home,” he said with a grin. He went to the counter and set the water to boil to make them some tea. 

Billy wandered the room, marvelling at the variety of Steve's art. There were street scenes that weren’t clear when looked at close, blurry like water when the sand from the seabed rose to muck it, yet reminding something Billy had just seen outside. And when he looked at them further away, the scene became clearer. There were paintings of incredible dreamscapes that made little sense at all and all kinds of abstract figures swirling in motion. He could see that rich colours, movement and energy connected all the pieces.

Steve walked to Billy and handed him a mug of the hot liquid he’d had earlier. “I hope you like this. I had only white tea.” Steve nodded towards a bigger piece Billy had been staring at, shining in all the shades of blue, turquoise, and gold. “So, what do you think?”

Billy looked at Steve, and his smile widened. He pointed at all the paintings on the wall and then tapped his hand on his chest, then repeated the gesture, hoping Steve would understand that he was in awe of all the beauty surrounding him.

“You like them?” Steve asked. 

Billy nodded.

A faint blush rose on Steve’s cheeks and he went to explain enthusiastically what had inspired him to paint the bigger piece.

Billy looked at Steve as he told about why he’d chosen the colours and what he’d wanted to express with it. It was clear to Billy that Steve was enthusiastic about his art. It made something warm and fuzzy fill Billy’s chest, to see such passion towards something. He hid his own smile and warming cheeks behind the mug and took a sip of the sweet tea. It was a new sensation to drink something this warm and sweet at the same time. But it tasted good and felt even better when it travelled through his insides, leaving a warm feeling behind. Just like he noticed the feeling about Steve doing. Steve wasn’t something Billy wanted to eat. With him, he wanted…companionship.

Steve turned to look at the stranger and met a gaze that was almost…adoring? He felt his cheeks heating. “I actually have one piece I’m working on right now. Would you like to watch me working on it?” he asked.

When the stranger nodded enthusiastically, Steve set down his mug, took off his jacket, and set up an easel by the window and set a canvas that had already been painted on it. After squeezing out paints in a rainbow of hues on a plate, he began painting, glancing periodically at the stranger.

Billy sat on a paint-speckled stool, observing intently as Steve's brush flew across the canvas. With broad strokes and fine details, an image slowly emerged - an interpretation of the street with all the murals and the mermaid. Steve had captured the soul of this place through his unique lens.

As Steve added a figure with blonde hair to the painting, he noticed the stranger engrossed in the process unfolding before him, his eyes shining with fascination and admiration. Steve painted on, feeling inspired by having such a captive audience.

After a long, comfortable silence, Steve set down his brush. "Well, what do you think so far?" he asked with a shy smile. The blond man broke into a broad smile. His expression said it all - the piece thoroughly impressed him. Steve's heart swelled with pride and – surprisingly – with affection for the stranger. He let out a small laugh at the hypnotic effect his painting seemed to have. "Want to try it?" he asked, handing the man his brush.

Billy took the brush hesitantly and examined it while Steve changed into a blank canvas on the easel. He dipped the bristles in paint, following Steve’s actions he’d witnessed a moment earlier, and brought them to the canvas, but hesitated, unsure of how to begin, acutely aware of Steve's gaze on him. 

Sensing his apprehension, Steve moved behind Billy and gently took his hand, guiding it in long, sweeping strokes across the canvas. "Don't think too much," Steve murmured in his ear. "Let the colours and shapes come from within."

Steve's touch was electric, sending shivers down Billy's spine. Emboldened, Billy closed his eyes and let his hand glide freely with Steve gently, just holding his hand, letting Billy make the strokes. Steve let him choose the colours and hues of turquoise, emerald, and gold took form beneath Billy’s brush, blending and swirling with vitality. Slowly, an abstract seascape formed on the canvas.

When Billy finally felt brave enough, he glanced at Steve. Steve was staring at the picture before them with an intensity that made his heart race. 

Steve turned to look at Billy. "You're a natural," he said softly.

Billy flushed and ducked his head shyly, but breaking into a radiant smile. 

“You should sign it,” Steve urged, pointing his signature on the piece he just painted himself. “It’s your art.”

Billy dipped his finger in the paint and drew outlines of a fish in the corner of the painting.

“Sea is close to you, isn’t it?” Steve asked quietly.

Billy felt a pang of sorrow in his chest as he nodded a little.

“Can I call you…Atlantis? Since I don’t know what your real name is.”

Somehow, Billy knew what Atlantis was, an ancient, mythical, sunken city. And somehow he could feel a deep connection with it – he was a mythical creature of ancient origin and for now sunken and stuck somewhere he didn’t know how to return from the way he used to be. His smile faltered a little when he nodded.

Steve smiled and reached out his hand to Billy. “Nice to meet you, Atlantis.”

Earlier, it had felt good to hold Steve’s hand, so Billy took it. The physical connection with Steve made the weight on his chest lift a little. Maybe his last two weeks of freedom wouldn’t be so bad, at least.

Later, after Steve had cleaned the brushes and set their paintings to dry, he made them some soup – another new experience for Billy – and while they ate, Steve talked more about his aspirations, his inspirations and hopes. Billy listened to each word intently, admiring the passion Steve seemed to apply to everything in his life. A warm feeling blossomed in Billy's chest. Steve was someone who saw life itself as a work of art to be embraced with an open heart. Maybe, just maybe… Billy thought to himself. Maybe Steve could be the one.

At some point, Steve looked at his watch and then out the window into the darkness that had fallen. “Oh, wow, the time has really flown. Where are you staying? I can walk you home.”

Billy turned to look away, ashamed. He didn’t even have anywhere to go for the night, and it was a pure chance that he’d met Steve in the first place and fed him. Only now he realised he was truly in a bad situation.

Steve looked at Atlantis’ pained expression and bit his cheek for a moment. “You know…you could stay here. For the night. Until we find you a place to stay.”

Atlantis cocked his head, looking miserable.

“I mean it. You can sleep in the bed. I’ll clean the mess from the couch and sleep there. You’ll be safe.”

Billy felt gratitude fill his chest. Steve was already amazing, and he just seemed to get better. It felt both good and so, so painful at the same time. Billy placed both his hands over his heart, hoping to sign his gratitude with it.

Steve smiled. After a while he spoke, “While you’re going to stay here…” he started hesitantly, “there’s a place I want to show you.”

Billy looked at him curiously and nodded.

Steve led Billy to the corridor and up a narrow stairwell at the end of it. They emerged to a rooftop overlook surrounded by a cool night breeze. 

The city lights twinkled like stars as the view opened before them, and Billy paused, taking in the scene before him. The skyline glittering against the inky sky, the streets below pulsed with life.

Steve guided Atlantis to the edge, and they sat, shoulders touching, as the world unfolded beneath them. Atlantis' eyes were wide, reflecting the dazzling lights. His lips parted in silent wonder and Steve couldn't help but smile, knowing he was seeing this view for the first time.

Billy was enthralled by the magical scene that spread beyond the horizon. Suddenly, he felt safe, out of Morgana’s reach. Here she couldn’t touch him, Steve wouldn’t let him. He leaned into Steve a little, almost accidentally. And Steve didn’t pull away.

Soon Steve slid an arm around Billy, pulling him close. 

Atlantis snuggling close to Steve was more than Steve had ever dared to hope for when he'd first noticed those gorgeous but haunted eyes across the street. He looked at the Atlantis and saw his face being serene as he gazed out at the city. Steve rubbed Atlantis’ arm as he snuggled closer. Up here in their private world, in that moment, something stirred within Steve. Something he’d been looking for for a long time.

Up there, above the city, the rest of the world fell away. No words were needed, just the soothing rhythm of their breaths mingling together. 

***

For the first few days Steve had been looking for a place for Atlantis to stay but the man had no money, no identification, nothing. As if he had appeared from thin air. Steve didn't of course mind hosting Atlantis at his home, he was happy for the company and each day feeling a little bit something else towards Atlantis, too.

Billy was grateful for Steve's help, even if it didn’t exactly sit right. As the days flew by, he knew his time on land was soon coming to an end, and he wouldn’t be Steve’s burden for a long time. So, he tried to enjoy whatever Steve wanted to show him and he immersed himself in everything so that he’d have memories he could cherish, something Morgana could never take away from him.

They spend their time painting, walking around the city, Steve occasionally taking his guitar and playing to Billy at home, and in the street corner where they had met. 

There were small things in Steve that Billy found himself being caught. Steve’s smile that lit up his entire face when he was happy, the way his brows knitted together when he concentrated on painting or composing a new song. Or the way his gaze lingered on Billy whenever he thought Billy wouldn’t notice. Billy found his feelings towards Steve grow day by day, which at the same time was the best and the worst.

When Billy’s time on land was coming to a close, Steve told him he had a concert in a bar close by and asked if he would like to join him. Of course he would. He wanted to experience everything he could while he still had time.

***

The smoky air of the crowded bar pulsated with energy as Steve played and sang on the stage. He was playing a similar guitar he’d played earlier, but it was now such that it could be heard over the crowd, as was his voice that came through the black boxes hanging from the ceiling.

Billy sat alone at the end of the bar, transfixed. Steve's fingers flew across the guitar strings, weaving melodies that seemed to cast a spell over the audience. His voice was husky and rich, dripping with soulful emotion. Billy studied Steve's face, taking in his closed eyes and the way his body swayed, lost in the music. That was Steve's gift – to transport people with his sound. Billy had seen nothing like it. Under the stage lights, Steve seemed to glow. His talent radiated from him in shimmering waves. Billy was captivated, drawn like a moth to Steve's flame. 

As Steve launched into a new song, the audience seemed to recognize it and roared their approval. But Billy hardly noticed them. His focus stayed locked on Steve, whose presence dominated the dingy room. The outside world faded away. In this moment, all that existed for Billy was Steve and his music. Billy leaned forward, mesmerised. He had felt nothing like this before. There was something about Steve that called to him profoundly he didn't understand. In Steve's music and his art, Billy finally saw true human passion, raw and real. For the first time, he felt he was seeing past the surface into Steve's soul. 

When the song ended, the audience exploded into rapturous applause. Steve opened his eyes, grinning and raising his hand in thanks. All Billy could see was the light in Steve's eyes. 

The applause died down as Steve stepped off stage. Billy sat motionless, still lost in the performance's spell, as Steve walked towards him. 

Billy was jarred back to reality by a commotion near the entrance. The crowd parted to make way for a petite, beautiful young woman. He watched with curiosity as she sauntered up to the bar, the crowd's eyes following her every move. She had short brown, slightly curly hair and she wore a skintight dress that flaunted her shape. Her looks weren’t nothing special to Billy, though, but she carried herself with overconfidence, as if she owned the place that commanded attention.

The woman ordered a drink and turned, surveying the room through hooded eyes. Her gaze settled on Steve, who was now halfway through the crowd towards Billy, stopped by people here and there to chat to him shortly. A sly smile spread across her painted lips. Drink in hand, she slinked through the dispersing crowd toward Steve. 

Steve's back was turned as he spoke with a person in the crowd when she tapped him on the shoulder. Steve turned around and looked at her, surprised."Nancy?" he asked, incredulous. "I thought you moved to Los Angeles."

Nancy gave a throaty laugh. "Oh, I'm back now," she purred, pressing closer to Steve. "Did you miss me?"

Steve took a step back. "It's been a long time, Nancy," he said carefully. "I wasn't expecting to see you." 

Nancy trailed a manicured nail down Steve's chest. "Well, I'm here now," she said suggestively. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

Steve removed her hand. "Uh, I'm not sure that's a good idea." He glanced around, trying to find Atlantis’ gaze.

Billy watched the exchange intently. He didn't know who the woman was, but he could sense the encounter being uncomfortable for Steve. A protective instinct flared within him. Steve deserved better than this woman's advances. Billy continued watching from the shadows as the woman persisted in her pursuit of Steve. Though he couldn't hear their words over the din of the crowded bar, her body language was unmistakable. She stood too close, frequently touching his arm or chest, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Steve seemed to maintain a polite facade, but something was clearly between the two, something Billy couldn’t quite place.

Billy felt an unexpected pang in his chest. He didn't understand where these feelings were coming from. After all, he barely knew Steve. And yet...witnessing this intimate interaction with the woman stirred something in him. Was it jealousy? Longing? A hollow sense of loss at something he never had?

Before Billy could examine the emotions further, the woman made her boldest move yet. With a coy smile, she grabbed Steve's face in both hands and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Steve's eyes went wide, his body rigid at first, then closing his eyes and relaxing into something that made Billy’s breath caught in his throat. 

The chatter and music of the bar faded away, narrowing Billy’s focus to the couple locked in their embrace. He thought of his own longing to experience Steve's lips, to be the recipient of such unrestrained passion. The ache of envy and despair constricted his heart.

But stronger than anything was the sadness of a dream deferred. Billy had allowed himself to hope, however briefly, that a true connection with Steve was possible. 

That hope now lay shattered at his feet, the pieces cutting deep into his soul.

Billy thought of the bargain he had made with Morgana - to collect the tears of true love or remain her prisoner. He felt Steve slipping through his fingers and he realised the impossibility of that task. He had been foolish to think someone like Steve could ever fall in love with him. Steve was an artist, a free spirit who followed his passions. And Billy? He was merely a siren, cursed to lure people with his voice and beauty alone. Without his voice he had nothing to offer.

With a heavy heart, he got up and walked towards the exit, his steps heavy with sorrow. He’d hoped the night air would clear his mind, but when he reached the street outside, his emotions only swirled within him – regret, anger and grief. If he returned to the sea now, he would spend the rest of his life as Morgana's captive, never again to experience freedom. But what choice did he have? Steve clearly didn’t love him.

There was no way he could complete his impossible task. And remaining here for the last few days would just remind him constantly of what he could never have – it might just break him completely. 

With a pained exhale, Billy turned his feet toward the shore. It was better to end this charade now. 

Steve had momentarily fallen to the familiar feeling of Nancy’s lips on his. It had first felt like a memory came back alive, then reminded him of the venom she carried in her embrace. He finally pulled away from the kiss, his expression morphing into one of shock and disbelief. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Atlantis’ hunched figure retreating outside the front door. Steve's heart dropped as he realised Atlantis had witnessed Nancy's sudden advance. “Atlantis, wait!" he called out, pushing Nancy aside. He had to explain, had to make sure Atlantis understood this wasn't what it looked like.

Nancy grasped his arm. "Steve," she said, "we need to talk about this."

Steve tried to shake her off, eyes fixed on the door where he’d last seen Atlantis. "There's nothing to talk about," he insisted. How could she have done this, jeopardising the one real connection he'd made since he they broke up?

Nancy persisted, her perfectly manicured nails digging into Steve's skin. "You belong with me, don't you see that?" she hissed.

Steve wrenched his arm away, temper rising. "All I see is you ruining the best thing that's happened to me in a long time," he bit back. 

Nancy recoiled as if struck. 

Steve didn't wait for her response. He pushed through the crowd, desperate to catch Atlantis before it was too late. He burst out of the bar doors, frantically scanning the dark street. "Atlantis!" he called out, his voice raw with desperation. He caught a glimpse of blond hair in the distance, a slender figure moving with purpose towards the shore. "Atlantis, wait!"

Steve broke into a run, his boots slapping against the pavement as he gave chase. He had to reach Atlantis. He had to explain somehow before it was too late. Nancy’s kiss had meant nothing. It was just a cruel trick played by his manipulative ex. He had to make this right somehow. He couldn't lose the one person who he was in love with.

***

Billy ran down the darkened street towards the shore, tears falling from his eyes and the night air cold against his damp cheeks. How could he have been so foolish, thinking someone like Steve could ever care for a creature like him? He was an aberration, an outsider – he would never truly belong in this world. 

The sound of waves crashing against the shore grew louder, and Billy pictured the vast ocean before him, the depths that were familiar to him unlike where he was now. He thought of Morgana's cunning smile as she had offered her bargain, the one that now felt like a trap snapping shut around him.

He had hoped this adventure on land would bring him purpose, something new and exciting, maybe become his life. But in the end, apparently all roads for him lead back to the sea. Just not exactly to the place he could call home. Instead, a cold, lightless place was waiting for him. There he would waste away in chains, with nothing but his shattered dreams of freedom to sustain him. 

The shoreline was just ahead now. Billy slowed, gazing out at the black water. He could now shed this false skin, reclaim his true siren form. Accept his fate and enter the gilded cage beneath the waves. 

Steve tried to run faster when he saw Atlantis vanish into the darkness of the shore. His lungs were burning, but he didn't slow. He couldn't lose Atlantis, not like this. "Please, stop!" he cried breathlessly. He was closing the distance, the hunched figure of Atlantis becoming clearer ahead of him. Steve poured every ounce of energy into his legs, desperate to catch up before Atlantis did something drastic.

He had to reach him and to tell him the truth: that he cared for him in a way he'd never cared for anyone before. That these last few days with him had awoken something in Steve's soul, a feeling so powerful it terrified him. "Atlantis, stop! You need to hear what I have to say!" Steve begged as he ran on.

The waves crashed gently against the sandy shore as Billy sat at the water's edge, his feet in the water. He looked at how his feet melted together, his legs following shortly, and a brilliant red and golden tail emerged before his eyes, each scale shimmering in the pale moonlight. 

He stared out at the horizon, his expression distant. This would be the last time he gazed upon the human world before returning to his underwater realm forever, bound eternally as Morgana's servant.

He could already feel her pull on his tail. Her tentacles may not yet be there for real, but him knowing he’d be wrapped into their eternal embrace made him feel them in his bones.

His hope for finding something else, something new and exciting, had come to the end his father had always told him. Nothing good could ever happen to him, so he might as well get it over with. He turned and pulled himself into the sea, enveloped into the cool sea water, ready to dive, when he heard someone shouting.

"Atlantis!" 

Footsteps thudded in the sand as Steve was running towards Billy along the beach, dark hair blowing in the breeze. Billy's heart clenched at the sight. Why couldn’t Steve just let him go? Yet, he remained in the shallows, waiting for a miracle to happen.

"Atlantis!" Steve cried as he stumbled to a halt, chest heaving. "I had to find you, to tell you..."

Billy regarded him solemnly, taking in Steve’s dishevelled appearance. 

Steve walked into the water to Billy and wrapped his arms around him, starting to pull him back to the shore. But Billy broke the embrace easily with one kick of his strong tail. 

Steve looked at Atlantis, surprised, and then at the water. It was dark, so he couldn’t see anything, but he could’ve sworn that a big fish had just passed him by. Then he slowly looked up and back at Atlantis, when a realisation hit him. The blond hair, striking beauty, inability to speak, no identification… “You’re a…merman, aren’t you?”

Billy turned his gaze away from Steve, ashamed. Then, after a moment, he raised the end of his tail out of the water.

Steve looked at Atlantis, his mouth agape. Emotions inside him were churning. He was in love with…a magical being. It couldn’t be right. How could he ever have anything with a being that was from a whole another realm? His heart was tearing into pieces when Atlantis swam back to him, taking his hand.

Billy pressed Steve’s hand on his chest, over his heart. Then he placed his other hand on Steve’s heart.

Steve let out a suffocated sob. “But how? How did you… You have a tail, not legs…”

Tears were prickling under Billy’s eyes. He wanted to tell Steve everything, but he was still bound by Morgana's spell, so he couldn't.

A smile spread across Steve’s face. “I know it’s impossible. Incredible.” He shook his head. “Unbelievable. And yet…” He cupped Billy’s chin in his hand, the touch urgent yet tender.

Steve leaned in, eyelashes fluttering shut as his lips met Billy’s in a kiss that spoke all the words Billy could not say - and the world fell away; there were only the two of them suspended in this perfect moment.

Steve's lips were warm and soft against Billy’s, igniting a spark of electricity that travelled through his entire body. At first, Billy froze for a moment, stunned by the sudden passionate display. But as Steve's hand slid to the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss, Billy felt himself melting into the embrace. His eyes drifted shut, and he kissed Steve back, all his loneliness, doubt, and fear seeming to wash away.

When they finally broke apart for air, Steve rested his forehead against Billy’s, both gasping softly.

Suddenly, every part of Billy started screaming. He felt Morgana’s pull for real, her tentacles grasping his tail tightly and yanking him away from Steve.

“You’re not getting away from me!” her voice bellowed all the way from the depths and penetrating the surface. “You’re mine!”

Billy couldn’t tell what he needed from Steve, and he felt his stomach drop. He had been so close, but of course this would be how it ended.

“No!” Steve yelped and dove after Atlantis, reaching him and wrapping his arms tightly around him. “I’m not letting you go!” he said, “You can’t go.” 

The tears that had been brimming on Billy’s eyes fell as he could feel the pull from the depths becoming harder to fight back. He shook his head, trying to get Steve to let go.

It was then, when a big, fat tear fell on Steve’s cheek, soon joined by another, and another. The tears travelled from his cheeks down to his neck and into the sea. But one, two, three of them fell onto Billy’s hand that Steve was holding, the tears glimmering in the moonlight like liquid crystal. 

“You can’t go, because I love you,” Steve whispered.

Billy watched in awe as Steve’s tears ran down on his skin. He could feel their purity, the selfless love from which they sprang, as they trickled down on his arm and into the sea.

As the droplets diffused into the seawater, Billy felt a shiver run through his body. Like chains crumbling away, Morgana’s hold over him weakened. He drew in a sharp breath as energy surged within him. The tears had broken the spell – he was free.

Deep beneath the waves, Morgana sensed the shift in power. A guttural scream tore from her throat as she realised the siren had succeeded. He’d gotten the tears of true love needed to break their pact. Her fury boiled up from the lightless depths. How could've this happened? Centuries of bargains and not once had she failed to collect. Her scream turned into an ominous rumble that echoed through the sea. The water roiled with her anger as she unleashed a fearsome roar. It reverberated through the currents until even Billy and Steve could hear its menacing tone from the surface.

Steve swam them both to the shore. He wasn’t quite sure how to proceed with this madness, but he would do his all to try.

Billy sat in the shallow water, staring at his tail. It was still there. Then he felt a tingling warmth spread through his body, and he closed his eyes. He could feel the magic unfurling inside him, released at last by the fulfilment of his pact with Morgana. 

The energy built until his whole being seemed to vibrate with power. Then, like a wave crashing over him, the transformation began, shining bright light all around.

His sleek fiery tail started to divide. The scales receded, revealing smooth, tanned skin underneath. Fins softened into feet and toes, his gils sealing the parted skin on his torso. The changes rippled upwards as the magic worked its way over his body, returning him into the form, with clothes and all he’d spent the last few weeks.

Steve watched in awe as Atlantis' siren form reshaped into human's before his eyes. It was strange yet beautiful to witness. Within moments, the man he loved fully emerged from the receding tide. Atlantis rose unsteadily, testing his newly restored legs, and Steve rushed to stand up and to support him in his first steps out of the sea. “You’re…you again,” he said softly, still in wonderment. 

Billy turned and embraced Steve, nodding into his shoulder. He was overcome with emotion. After a long moment, they parted. Billy lifted a hand to gently touch Steve's cheek and looked at him in the eyes that were full of tenderness and promise. Billy opened his mouth, hesitant. This was the moment he had been waiting for - to have his voice returned.

He tried to form words, but only a soft croak emerged. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Steve," he said, the name rough and low in his unfamiliar vocal chords. His eyes widened at the sound of his own voice. It was nothing like the hypnotic, melodic tones he'd possessed as a siren. This was deeper, grittier, thoroughly human. He swallowed and tried again, gaining confidence. "Steve… How have I longed for this moment."

Steve's eyes misted over with emotion. "Your voice," he breathed. "It's beautiful."

Joy surged through Billy. He threw his arms around Steve, embracing him fiercely. "I am finally free, whole, here with you." Drawing back, he cupped Steve's face in his hands. "I love you," he declared fervently. "I will spend every day proving it, if you let me."

Steve smiled through his tears. "There's nothing I want more," he replied, covering Billy's hands with his own. 

Billy smiled shyly. “My name is not Atlantis. It’s…Beacher. But you can call me Billy.”

“Billy…” Steve tried on the name. “It’s a lovely name. I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life.” 

Steve took Billy’s hand, and they started to walk towards the city. They were halfway down when Billy stopped. He glanced back at the dark ocean shimmering in the moonlight. For a moment, he was flooded with bittersweet nostalgia. He would miss diving beneath the surf, his powerful tail propelling him effortlessly through the currents. He would miss the songs of his fellow sirens echoing hauntingly across the water.

But the human world was now where he belonged. A new life in front of him, full of love and possibilities he had never even imagined. With Steve by his side, he was ready to embrace that future. "Goodbye," he whispered, his voice carried away by the ocean breeze.

Hand in hand, they walked over the sand and onto the pavement, over the busy street and to the other side. The broadwalk was bustling with activity, people spilling onto patios and crowded sidewalks, the air ringing with laughter and lively conversations. They joined in and their laughter echoed through the streets as they disappeared into the heart of the city.

The End.

[theangrypomeranian]

Hey, I don't know if you remember me, lol. I left a (what felt like) rambly comment on Chapter 26 of Baby Steps on AO3 (under the same username) a long time ago, thanking you for portraying how Tina gets support from the people around her after dealing with all the jerky guys and the harrassment she faces. (I think I quoted what Frond said in that chapter, also?) Anyway, I kept reading until it was updated in August because of work and prepping for my sophomore year of college. I wish I still kept up with it at that point, honestly, as this story really just helped me with a lot, but life drained me.

I just recently was able to go back and pick up from where I left off (though I did go back to around the end of the prom arc, because that's what I had the clearest memory of). And I just wanna thank you again for writing this story.

You're an amazing writer, I'm so glad I found this story when I did. Thank you for responding to that comment I made way to early in the morning, for giving me an outlet to deal with these feelings I didn't know I still had from my harrassment experience, and thank you for responding with your kindness and understanding. You'll never know how much I sobbed when I saw your reply, especially when you had typed that you believed me. Even as I type this ask up, I'm getting teary-eyed thinking about it because some part of me still feels in disbelief that someone believes me. Thank you.

I've thought about this series for so long, and I'm glad I get to come back and continue reading. I hope you're well, and I wish you the best. Thank you for all that you do and for changing my life for the better. Truly, I admire you. I'll always be supporting you and your writing.

this has taken me way too long to respond do and i want to apologize for that. i have no excuse other than executive dysfuntion and general exhaustion like to kick my ass lol.

i want you to know that i literally think about you and that comment you left all the time because it means the absolute WORLD to me. i believe i told you in my reply that i am also a fellow survivor and i wrote the story for people like you and i to read and find some closure and healing in. knowing that i accomplished what i set out to do has kept me going so many times when i looked at the wip and had thoughts of just giving up, of abandoning it and disappearing from the internet. i couldn't because people like you and i deserve a happy ending. these characters and their stories deserve to be finished for people like us. and i want you to know that until the day i am gone, i will believe you and your story. what happened to you was awful and as Mr. Frond said, someone with authority should have stood up for you. in my opinion it is criminal that they didn't. you didn't deserve that. but you are so so strong for getting past that and being where you are now. and i am so incredibly proud of you, and i am forever humbled and grateful that my silly little fic has helped you even a little bit. thank you for sending this ask and telling me all of this, and i hope Baby Steps' ending makes you happy. <3

[breath-of-eternity]

LAST: Chapter 13

Amaia went up and down the river, looking for a rock that would serve her purposes. Finally she came across one that was flat and she could lay across her lap, perfect. The next one was easier. She just needed to be able to hold it. She carried them back to the overhang and went through the herbs in the box, picking out the sharp smelling ones that would reduce the pain throbbing up her hand. She ground it up and dribbled in water, then smeared the paste across her skin. All she had to wrap it with was a long frond, not optimal, but it would do.

The pain didn’t cut so deep, she was certain, and the same went for all the other aches and scrapes all over her body. She shook out the skins out over the rock and lay down, even though it wasted daylight she could use for foraging. She had the mushrooms, and this morning she found a bush full of rose berries by the river. It was the best meal she had in a while.

She slept, she washed in the river, she pulled some of the grasses out of the cliffs to work on making snares. The next day, she went back to the woods for more snare material, and it was like Father was whispering in her ear as she set it up. Find a trail, he was saying. It will be near a water source. Scope out the area for burrows.

Her hand stopped throbbing. Her snares weren’t great, but she caught some animals and made a fire on top of the cliff to cook them over. She stuck the meat onto the splintered oar and roasted a squirrel over the flames.

“It’s too bad we never came this way,” she said, pulling charred meat off and shoving it into her mouth. “There’s some good food out here. I guess the river is too fast for people to deal with. We always used to head southeast. I never really thought about why. It’s just what we did. No one else came this way, did they? No. Not in my memory. I’m sure someone would have had a story about people who used to come through here and now no one’s seen them in years. All the stories seem to end that way.”

She was talking to herself too much. But… She had to get the thoughts out. Even if no one could hear her. She could pretend someone was with her, Father or Zara or Retta or even Mother. It was pathetic, but only if she ran into someone and they caught her doing it. And that wouldn’t really be bad, would it?

She let out a barking laugh, or maybe it was a scream.

Time to go out foraging, heading north to explore and stumbling into wet ground full of tubers. The wind rushed through the trees, and the birds sang, knowing little of the monsters because they could hide so deftly. At night, she wrapped herself in the skins and wished she could risk another fire in the enclosed space. When she was shivering hard enough that she couldn’t sleep, she knew she had to leave. The Solstice was still two months away, and that was only the beginning of the coldest part of winter. She had to get farther south.

Carefully, she unpicked the string in the middle of the skins to create an opening for her head. She picked up her bag and one of the oars she was in the process of hewing into a spear, and gave a final glance to the boat she came down the river on, the waterlogged wood now splintered. Then she began her last climb up to the top of the cliffs. Before she left the river entirely, she carved a message into the bark of a tree, a lone figure, and an arrow pointing in the direction she was heading off in. She hadn’t seen another carving since the lake, but it was possible that someone out there would find it someday, right?

Right.

It was early morning when she set out, through brushes that she had to tear a path through and then grass that was twice as tall as her head. The tan puffs at the end had no nutritional value, which was a shame since it seemed to go on forever. Her foot came down on squelchy ground, but when she listened, she did not pick up the song of any river. She shook her waterskins to reassure herself she had plenty, but one was almost empty. She’d need more before she set out tomorrow.

But one thing at a time. First was a place to hide for the night. Underneath a rotten tree—no, she could not put herself through that again. A burrow looked just big enough for her to wiggle in, however she wouldn’t be able to move her arms, turn around or, you know, extract herself. She still had the rope, maybe if she climbed up a tree really high, then tied herself to the trunk…

That had to be the stupidest idea she had yet.

She went along the swampy forest, scooping up globs of mud to smear over her body. After the ground dried out, the grass was low enough for some flowers to pop up, a vibrant purple that she knew were safe to eat, even if she felt like a squirrel munching on one. She skidded down a hill and her foot struck hard rock that made her ankle buckle and sent her falling. New pains scratched her elbows and she pushed over onto her back to poke the rock she tripped on, light gray with a sharp edge sticking out. She kicked it and it shifted, revealing a long, straight line nature could never form on its own.

Not a rock, but a log with its branches removed and the knobs smoothed down, stuck into the hill. She clawed out the dirt and found more logs implanted in the earth, long ago that grass now covered them, and they surrounded a hole she would have dismissed as a shadow if she hadn’t been on top of it. She pulled away long, drooping branches and found the entrance to a dugout.

Someone—many someones, most likely—dug out the hill and put in the logs to shore up the dirt ceiling. She tapped the sides with her spear, and no dirt showered down. It was well made, and long abandoned.

At each step, she paused to listen and tap the walls. It wasn’t much wider than her shoulders were broad, and the top of her head brushed against the ceiling. Not large enough for a monster to easily squeeze through. Though it seemed secure, she couldn’t help but imagine stumbling into a nest of monsters, and finding their wriggling bodies pressed against each other while they slept away the day. She paused to listen and the cavern was quiet except for a faint hissing, the rush of air against the exit.

“This could work,” she said. “They can’t see me. The mud should mask my scent. It’s not great, but…”

Her words did not echo, and if she had a torch, she might be able to tell where the dugout ended. She set down her bag and sat, musing over the reasons the builders had for making such a hole. A place to hide from the monsters seemed the most reasonable explanation. Except if it was abandoned, it obviously didn’t work.

“Diggers, is that a group anyone heard of? I don’t think so. That would make this place generations old, and that doesn’t seem right. I guess it could have been a failed experiment, but who would have the time for this? Everyone always had to keep moving.” She took a swig from her water skin. “Unless it’s old. Older than Father. Maybe it was dug by someone the grandparents knew.”

At the very least, it was a good place to leave her things while she went out to forage her dinner. There were a few edible plants and grasses, and farther east a trickle of water that might lead to a river or might peter out into nothing. She scooped up a handful to dampen her withering tongue and immediately spit it out. It tasted like sucking on a rock. Perhaps if it joined a larger body of water, it would dilute enough for her to ingest.

The critical hour had arrived, when the sun was dipping behind the trees, and in the thick forest it was already dark enough for monsters to be out hunting. She made her way back to the dugout and though she slept long that night, she was shivering by the time she awoke.

She followed the trickle through the forest, crawling under bushes and hacking branches when she had to. It never grew wide enough that she couldn’t hop over to the other side, and the taste never improved, but she was down to the last drops in her skins. It was bad to drink hard water, Father taught her that, but she was out of options.

That night, she slept in a cavern of light gray stone, covered in crusted bat droppings. However the bats themselves never made an appearance, perhaps also heading south in search of warmer environments. It smelled as bad as the water tasted, but it would cover her own odor, and she was hidden enough that no monster could catch a glimpse of her with its sharp eyes.

Safe. It had taken on such a flexible meaning.

More walking. She spent the night buried under dirt and leaves, barely sleeping for the snapping of any twig could be a monster approaching. Walking again, and finally, the trickle led to a creek that went up to her knees when she crossed it. Still metallic tasting, but she could actually drink it without wanting to scrape her tongue afterwards. Another night buried under dirt and moss, with insects crawling all over her. She passed out, and nothing disturbed her enough to wake her.

The next morning, she returned to the creek and scraped off all the mud and dirt, so her skin could breathe for a little while. But it couldn’t last long. There was always the chance a monster could pick up her trail at night and hunt her down. They always seemed to know where to find their prey…

She took handfuls of dirt to the creek and wetted it, slathering herself in mud again.

“I’m doing good, right?” she asked, her voice quietly broken.

The trees were skinny and spread apart, not the best for concealment, and none bore anything she could eat. The creek was thinning out again, only up to her ankles now, the water languid in is movement. As the sun arced towards descent, she filled up her water skins and went hunting for a place to hide, and found a tree, branches hanging with red berries, picked over by animals but not bare. She had to be careful to spit out the seeds. They were poisonous coming from this fruit.

There were a few burrows too small for her to fit in. The ground was flat and dry, absent of any caves. She took out the spear and used the flat end, the former oar, to widen one of the burrows, and the hole caved in on itself. Amaia blinked and scooped out the soft earth, and nestled herself inside of it, barely able to move as she swore she wouldn’t do days ago. Only her face peered out, staring at the shimmering stars above. Somewhere out there, the Absconders lived with the technology they purged from the planet, all to inflict misery on the descendants of their enemies.

You hate us that much?

Of course they did. It was why they’d periodically return and rile up the monsters.

“Why did they leave?” she asked Mother once, long ago, sitting around a fire with Dash and Zara and so many others who disappeared over the years.

“My grandmother told me the Earth was too sick to support life anymore,” Mother said. “It wasn’t until after the Absconders left that the planet began to heal.”

“But what about the war?” Dash asked.

“I’m not sure if it was before or after. To tell the truth, it’s been so long, no one’s sure what happened, especially not those who say they’re sure. When I was your age, I believed the Absconders left, things got better, and so they returned to try and take the planet back. Then came the war. But like I said, this is just my story. The real story was over hundreds of generations ago.”

Mother stood and pain twitched over her face. Her hand went to the small of her back and her steps were rigid as she went over to the stack of logs to add a fresh one to the fire. Dash jumped up to grab the log for her, though now that she was moving, some of the stiffness melted away.

“All we have left is stories,” Amaia muttered. Her eyelids, weighted down, finally shut.

She was staring out a tent flap. Dash was curled into a ball next to her, thin, his skin sallow. That winter, they returned to their foraging spots only to find a fire burned away most of the forest. For most of the season, all they had to eat were the grubs they could pick out of the dirt.

Mother and Father argued outside, and Amaia lifted her head to peer out the tent flap. His back was to her, but he was shaking his head over and over.

“It has to be me,” Mother said. “I’m not ill. And I… it just hurts so much. I can’t lay down, I can’t walk, I can’t even sit without pain stabbing into my back.”

“Please, no. Not you. Anyone but you.”

“I won’t make you do it, but it’s happening now. Before the children starve.”

Amaia’s eyes flew open. She wasn’t sure what prompted that memory to float through her dreams. It had been the worst starving time in her existence. If the hunters hadn’t caught that bobcat, a lot more people would have died. The stew tasted awful, and it was no surprise no one caught a bobcat again. She got to her feet, brushing the dirt off of herself. Bag in hand, she started walking.

[poonammayanksharma009]

Unveiling the Magic: Destination Wedding Planners in Andaman

Destination Wedding Planners in Andaman

Are you dreaming of a wedding that seems like it was taken from a fairy tale? Just think about this: immaculate beaches,clear water and gentle palm fronds as you say your vows in the most beautiful setting you could ever imagine. This is the world of destination weddings in Andaman Islands, where moments are marked with exoticism and elegance. Why Choose Andaman for Your Destination Wedding? Andaman and Nicobar Island is an incredible archipelago situated in Bengal Bay which offers an unbeatable backdrop for dream weddings. Its calm sandy beaches, abundant marine life, and lush vegetations make Andaman a magnet for couples who want to have their wedding celebrations at an extraordinary place. Starting from intimate beach ceremonies to opulent events with breathtaking ocean views, the options in the Andamans are numerous so that your lifetime promise ceremony can be tailored along your wishes. The Role of Destination Wedding Planners Planning for a destination wedding can be exciting and daunting at the same time. This is when professionals like Andaman destination wedding planners come in handy. These specialists are known to organize unforgettable weddings at this picturesque venue while taking care of everything behind the scenes to ensure that your big day goes off without any hitch. Local Expertise Destination wedding planners know all about best hotels, venues and other vendors within Andaman as they possess expertise on these places hence enabling one access some of themost scenic spots on earth with top-notch services. Personalized Planning Such coordinators customize their offerings according to individual preferences whether one fancies a waterfront event or tropical garden party or even fancy resort nuptials; they work closely with clients to understand what they desire and design such marriages expressing each uniqueness. Stress-Free Experience Because organizing a distant location marriage involves many logistical challenges such as travel plans coordination ad permit applications among others, Destination wedding planners help handle all these so you can concentrate on your special day. Vendor Coordination Your wedding planner will have connections with all reputable local vendors needed in your wedding such as florists, caterers, photographers and entertainers. Through this, you get high quality products and services that match your expectations. On-the-Ground Support When your nuptial day comes around, there’s nothing more comforting than knowing that a dedicated on-site planner will be available to handle any issues which may arise at the venue especially by someone who knows what he or she is doing having lived in the area for many years. Finding the Perfect Destination Wedding Planner in Andaman To find the best wedding planners for an Andamanian wedding, start by looking for established agencies with positive reviews and extensive portfolios of past events. You should also consider finding somebody who has had experience organizing weddings with guests coming from different locations and request for client references from them. Additionally, it helps meeting them one-on-one to ascertain the possibility of getting along well concerning personal preferences juxtaposed against their work style. In Conclusion The Andaman Islands’ destination wedding blends natural beauty with luxury like no other making it ideal for couples looking to have a distinctively remarkable ceremony. With skilled destination wedding planners assisting you, you can easily manifest your dream marriage into reality with grace. Experience the magic of Andaman and let knowledgeable locals lead you through a perfect day worth remembering forever. So go ahead in readiness to plan out your wedding adventure on the Andamans. Your dream coastal ceremony is almost near by with the help of good destination wedding organizers.

[kidsbirthdaydecoration]

Embracing the Hottest Trends in Engagement Stage Decorations for 2024

As lovebirds embark on their journey towards marital bliss, the engagement stage marks the inception of their forever tale. Amidst the joyous celebrations, the spotlight inevitably falls on the engagement decoration, setting the stage for unforgettable moments. In 2024, couples are leaning towards innovative and captivating themes to adorn their engagement ceremonies. Let’s delve into the trending themes that are stealing the spotlight this year.

Make your engagement event more special and amazing by selecting the best engagement stage decoration themes from Take Rent Pe — an online supplier providing decoration setups on rent. With more than 100+ décor set ideas, pick your ones and let the team do the whole event management for you.

1. Enchanted Garden: Transporting guests into a whimsical realm, the enchanted garden theme is flourishing in popularity for engagement stage decoration. Laden with lush foliage, cascading floral arrangements, and twinkling fairy lights, this theme adds an ethereal charm to the ambiance. Couples are opting for botanical backdrops adorned with vibrant blooms, creating a picturesque setting for their special day.

2. Vintage Glamour: The retro glamour motif emphasizes nostalgia while conveying an aura of timeless elegance. Vintage-inspired props, beautiful chandeliers, and antique furniture create the tone for a romantic evening. Soft pastel colors, elegant lace details, and cascading drapes ooze old-world elegance, giving the engagement stage a touch of sophistication and grace.

3. Bohemian Chic: The bohemian chic motif, which embraces free-spirited sentiments and eclectic charm, has captured hearts with its relaxed allure. Macramé backdrops, rattan chairs, and dreamy tapestries create a casual yet sophisticated atmosphere. Earthy tones, beautiful florals, and whimsical embellishments lend a sense of bohemian charm, enabling guests to immerse themselves in the carefree mood.

4. Modern Minimalism: Less is indeed more with the modern minimalism theme, where sleek sophistication meets understated elegance. Clean lines, geometric accents, and monochromatic palettes dominate the decor, exuding a contemporary vibe. Engagement decorations feature minimalist backdrops adorned with subtle metallic accents and minimalist floral arrangements, creating a chic and refined setting. Engagement decorators are weaving these themes into captivating narratives, ensuring that every detail reflects the couple's unique love story. From conceptualization to execution, decorators play a pivotal role in bringing the envisioned theme to life, creating enchanting experiences for couples and their guests alike.

5. Art Deco Extravaganza: Channeling the opulence of the Roaring Twenties, the Art Deco extravaganza theme is making a dazzling comeback in 2024. Glitzy gold accents, geometric patterns, and lavish velvet draperies capture the essence of the Gatsby era. Engaging stage decorations boast sleek black and gold backdrops adorned with cascading crystal chandeliers, exuding luxury and grandeur.

6. Cultural Fusion: With the world becoming increasingly interconnected, couples are embracing their cultural heritage with pride. Engagement stage decorations are a canvas for celebrating diversity, blending traditional elements with contemporary flair. Whether it's vibrant textiles, intricate patterns, or symbolic motifs, engagement decorators are adept at weaving cultural narratives into the decor, creating an ambiance that resonates with both the couple and their guests.

7. Tropical Paradise: Embracing the vibrant energy of tropical locales, the tropical paradise theme brings a burst of color and joy to engagement decorations. Lush palm fronds, exotic blooms, and vibrant hues create a tropical oasis, transporting guests to sun-kissed shores. Engagement stage decorations feature bamboo accents, vibrant floral arrangements, and quirky pineapple motifs, infusing the celebration with tropical warmth and cheer.

In conclusion, 2024 is witnessing a kaleidoscope of captivating themes that are redefining engagement decorations. From enchanting garden soirées to glamorous vintage affairs, couples are spoilt for choice when it comes to curating the perfect backdrop for their special day. With the expertise of engagement decorators, these themes are brought to life in all their splendor, ensuring that every engagement celebration is a magical affair to remember.

[lockyourtripy]

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[serendibidibidis]

I love that people are so bored that theyd rather be shitty to you than ignore something that they dont agree with or whatever. Theres so much random anon hate on this site and somehow i don't get any of it. Just my besties. Im sorry frond i wish i could block them all for you.

It’s almost like not everyone agrees on things.

Just because I’ve said shit people don’t agree with doesn’t give them the right to come anon me nasty messages. All though let’s be real, if you cannot say it off anon you might as well not say it at all.

People need to realize that their words aren’t meaningless. (Granted to me anon hate is a waste of time that I no longer even read the full messages I just report them) not to flex but when I get hate, I don’t care. Saying it makes me happy to get hate isn’t the correct phrase, but I’d much rather be the one receiving hate. I’m glad you don’t get anon hate, I hope it stays that way for a long time. (Clearly you just haven’t said anything controversial enough yet haha)

Granted my blog has slowly morphed into me clowning anons but I digress, so many people find themselves powerful Behind a screen or the word ‘anonymous’ when in reality they don’t have it in themselves to say the same things out loud. Take that Chen protest (calling it a protest is a fucking compliment ngl) sooo many people talked big and said they’d disown him, but like what 15 people showed up. All of them tried to hide their faces. Not a single one was out there being proud about protesting him. They all looked ashamed & embarrassed. That’s how anons work. They all talk big, but don’t back it up when their reputation could be on the line.

Anons stay mad, it doesn’t bother me.

[imagining-supernatural]

Living Lonely

Bucky x Reader

Inspiration: Single At 40 by Rhys

Word Count: 850

“I’m not scared of dying alone.”

“Living alone?”

“No. I live alone and I’m fine. I’m more scared of living lonely.”

The stars were obscured by the light pollution, but if you closed your eyes, you could picture a clear, mountain night with diamonds glittering across the black expanse. It would be a much better setting for this conversation, but since you weren’t near the mountains you vacationed at every summer as a child, this rooftop in the middle of Brooklyn and your imagination would have to do.

“Okay, you lost me.” The air beside you shifted a little as you heard Bucky take a drag of the joint you were sharing. 

Eyes still closed, you took a moment to gather your thoughts. “I mean… I’m fine on my own, you know? I’m all independent and shit. Hell, that’s the reason none of my relationships have lasted.”

He passed the joint to you and raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure the reason you’re still single is ‘cause you only date assholes.”

The sour smoke curled around you, escaping your mouth and nose in puffs of laughter. “Okay, that’s a good point. Which brings me to the next part of my fear of living lonely: Getting stuck in a relationship that’s no good. Like, sure I’d technically be with someone, but I would still be lonely. You know?”

“Is this all coming out now ‘cause Stevie’s getting married?”

Ah, yes. The third part to your lifelong trio. You and Bucky had been best friends since preschool. Then when you went to kindergarten the both of you had taken to protecting little Steve Rogers on the playground. Even after he hit his growth spurt in Freshman year, the three of you had a dynamic that wouldn’t break.

And now he was getting married. The dynamic wasn’t breaking, but it sure was bending.

“Partly. And, I don’t know…” You lifted the joint to your lips and let the smoke dance into your lungs. This smoke was much different from the campfire smoke you all used to sit around in those mountains with your families. Instead of the crackle of logs breaking, you were surrounded by the honking and sirens of the city. 

You exhaled.

“Ever since we graduated and moved here… I just see so many people with their person. They just seem so… so secure. They know they have a place by someone. I saw what being a single mother did to my mom and how hard it was when I moved out. She was by herself again. I don’t want to have to go through that, you know?”

“You always have me.”

You shot Bucky a soft smile and knocked his shoulder with yours. “I know. But one day you’ll get married too, because how in the world could a guy like you stay single forever? And I’d love to get married someday, but I just… It feels like it’s too far out of reach.”

“First off,” he said, stealing the blunt from you, “If a guy like me can’t stay single forever then a girl like you definitely isn’t going to stay single long. Secondly, we’re only twenty years old. And third, I forgot how dramatic weed makes you.”

“I’m not dramatic. I’m… ruminative.” 

“Okay, Ms. I-Aced-The-SATs. How about this? When we’re thirty and you’re married, then I get to tell you I told you so.”

“Fine. And when we’re thirty and you’re married, and I’m not, you have to pay for me to go on vacation so I can cry into a margarita on a beach while a hot, shirtless, native guy fans me with a palm frond.”

The thought of Bucky being married made you a little sick to your stomach. Even Steve branching off of your trio to make his own family didn’t make your stomach turn like the thought of Bucky walking down the aisle did.

But that was a train of thought for sometime when you were alone.

“Deal.” Bucky held his hand out to shake on it. 

A few minutes later, the joint was stubbed out and the both of you laid down on the blanket. As seconds ticked by, you felt yourself melting further and further into the cotton under you. Then a thought struck you and you sat up. 

“What about if we’re both single? What do we do then?”

Bucky propped himself up on his elbows, taking a moment to study you. His scrutiny made you slightly uncomfortable until he broke a grin and shrugged. “Then we’ll marry each other.”

“Right,” you chuckled.

“Why not? I mean, we’re going to be in each other’s lives forever anyway. We know that we get along. You’re always my number one girl, we could just make it official.”

He was serious. 

There was no way he was going to make it ten years without someone settling down with him, so what was the harm?

“Okay. So if we’re both single at thirty, we’ll get married?”

He held his hand towards you, pinky extended. 

After a slight hesitation, you curled your own pinky around his.

A/N: I’m not really back. I just heard this song today and had my first flash of inspiration in literal years. The last two years have been awful for me and I haven’t been dealing with my grief as well as I thought I was, but I think I might be on an uphill climb, so maybe I’ll get more inspo along the way?

[kookiecrumb]

JJK || Hawaiian Pizza

wc: 600w

pairing: platonic jungkook x reader

summary: Jungkook thinks pineapple doesn't belong on pizza. You beg to differ.

tags: crack fic, slice of life

warnings: mention of baby murder(?)

a/n: i thought of this during class and yeah

-

In a little palm-frond roofed shack by the sea, lived a man who baked Napolean style pizzas. 

He baked cheese pizzas. He baked pepperoni pizzas. He baked mushroom pizzas. He baked margherita pizzas. He baked every sort of pizza imaginable. 

But there was one kind of pizza that he refused to bake. It was the Hawaiian pizza. 

This was ironic, because Jungkook lived in Hawaii. 

Every tourist who stumbled upon his little old pizza shack– pizza hut, if you will, made the same comment about it. You were no exception. 

"You really should serve Hawaiian pizza if you're a Hawaiian pizza shop." 

Jungkook leaned over the counter of his shop and shook his head violently. "No. Nope. Never." He was firm on his decision. "Pineapple does not belong on pizza. Anything sweet does not belong on pizza." 

"Well what are you, the pizza police?!" You whine. 

Jungkook pulls out a badge in the shape of a star embellished in gold. "Yes." 

You snatch it from his hand. "What the fuck is this?" 

Upon closer inspection, the design reads, in miniscule lettering, "Hawaiian Pizza Shop Owners Group," and below it, "Officer." 

Jungkook shoots you a hostile glare. "Give that back!" 

You giggle profusely and slide it over the wooden counter. 

"Okay, well…are you gonna order something? There is a line." Jungkook points to the trail of people behind you. 

"Fine," you surrender. "I'll have a plain cheese pizza, please." 

Jungkook nods and scribbles down the order in blue pen. "Okay. That will be 5.99," he sighs. 

You hand over a ten dollar bill. He slides it over and places it neatly in the register, retrieving your change. "Here you go…" 

You cup your palm to receive it. "Thanks." 

That's when a devious plan conjures inside your mind. You see, there is a bar a few paces from Jungkook's pizza shack. That bar serves alcoholic drinks, snacks, and, most importantly, fruit. 

If they just so happened to have a pineapple, and if you just so happened to chop it up and sprinkle it on Jungkook's cheese pizza, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. 

It would be your pizza. 

So, you trudge your way over to the beachside bar and order a bowl of pineapple to go, trying your best not to drag your feet in the pale white sand. They hand it to you in a container about five minutes later, just enough time for your plain cheese pizza to be ready at Jungkooks. 

Excellent. Your evil plan was coming together. 

You walk back inconspicuously. 

Jungkook has placed a fresh slice of cheese pizza on the serving counter and is currently trembling in fear at you approaching him with a bowl of pineapple and a menacing look on your face. 

"Don't you dare," he breathes in a barely audible tone. "Don't do it." 

"Oh, I will," you grin. You pop open the lid of the container and scoop a spoonful of pineapple on to the pizza. Its juices infuse the virgin cheese with its sinfully sweet taste, forever tainting them with fruity flavor. 

Jungkook looks at you like you just murdered his baby. He falls to his knees. "You monster," he sobs, his eyes swelling with tears. "How could you do this to me?!" 

You celebrate his pain with a villainous cackle. You have won.

He wipes the tears from his eyes and shakes his head slowly. "Leave be!" Jungkook dramtically turns his body away, defeated. 

You snag a chunk from your creation and smirk. Victory is won. 

-

[curryuuri]

tag dump 01