#in the fishing one hes friendly with the other fisherman

[reasonsforhope]

[Warning: Graphic (some very graphic) shark-fishing pictures at the link.]

"Suhardi isn’t your average snorkeling guide. Born on the Indonesian island of Lombok, he’s spent his life on water. While he now seeks out sharks for the enjoyment of tourists, he once hunted sharks to help earn money to feed his family and educate his two children.

Suhardi was a fisherman for more than 20 years. He first started fishing working on his parents’ boat, but was then asked to join the crew of a shark boat where he was told he could earn a lot of money. Back on deck, he looks embarrassed to divulge what a meager wage it was, but finally confesses he earned around $50 for up to a month at sea.

Now he and 12 other former shark fishermen are part of The Dorsal Effect, an ecotourism company that helps ex-shark hunters find a new vocation. Each week, the team takes groups of tourists, schoolchildren and university students to off-the-grid locations and guides them around pristine reefs. Each trip is designed to take guests on an exploratory journey of both the shark trade and marine conservation through the eyes of the Sasak people of Lombok.

Lombok is a hotspot for marine diversity, sitting just east of the Wallace Line, a biogeographical boundary separating Asia and Australia and their respective fauna. Pristine coral gardens and around 80 species of sharks can be found in its waters. The island is also part of the world’s largest shark-fishing nation. Only the whale shark (Rhincondon typus) is protected in Indonesia; all other sharks can be legally caught.

The Dorsal Effect first launched in 2013, a year after Suhardi met Singaporean ecologist Kathy Xu, who had traveled to Lombok to find out more about the shark trade. The diminutive but quietly determined Xu wanted to protect sharks, but because she knew shark fishing was poorly paid and dangerous, she wanted to hear the fishermen’s stories too. They told her how once they could fish for sharks close to shore, but now with the shark population dropping, the fishermen said they needed to travel farther out to sea, only to come home with a relatively poor catch. The reduced catch also meant reduced pay, so they often couldn’t cover their costs...

Yet, when Xu asked why fishers didn’t seek out another trade, she learned they didn’t want to be separated from the sea. They saw it as part of their heritage.

But as they spoke longer, the shark fishermen talked about the coral gardens that could be found under the waves, ones that only they knew about. Inspired by a whale shark diving trip she’d taken with scientists on the Great Barrier Reef, Xu had an idea. “If such spots exist,” she recalls telling the fishers, “I could take tourists out with you and pay you more than you earned shark fishing”.

At first, Xu guided the former shark fishermen on how to become eco-friendly tour operators. They dropped anchor away from the reef, served guests plant-based dishes, and made sure all trash was taken back to shore. But then Xu saw that something special was happening: The former fishermen had started to take the guest experience into their own hands, making sure tourists felt at home. Suhardi painted “Welcome” in large letters over the front of his boat, fitted green baize to the top deck for outdoor seating, and hung curtains in the cabin so his guests could enjoy some shade.

Suhardi has already bought a new boat with his earnings from snorkeling trips. “Every day is my best day,” laughs Suhardi, whose smile always travels from his mouth to his eyes.

While they were receiving tourists from across the globe, there was another group that Xu wanted to reach out to. “I think it was the teacher in me who felt impassioned about influencing the young,” she says. She reached out to schools and created a five-day program that would help students understand the shark trade and local conservation efforts. During the program, paid for by the school and students, participants would not only meet the ex-shark fishermen so they could ask them about their lives, but also hear from NGOs such as the Wildlife Conservation Society about their efforts to slow the trade. The Dorsal Effect also hired marine biologists to host nightly lectures and help the students with their field surveys...

The students were faced with the realities of the fishing trade, but they were also encouraged to take a balanced view by The Dorsal Effect team. The villagers weren’t just taking the fins, and throwing away the rest of the shark; they processed every piece of the animal. While they did sell the meat and fins to buyers at the market, they also sold the teeth to jewelers, and the remains for pet food.

The Dorsal Effect also takes students on an excursion to the fishermen’s village, a small island that lies off the coast of Lombok. Marine biologist Bryan Ng Sai Lin, who was hired by The Dorsal Effect team, says that on one trip with students he was surprised by how quickly the young people understood the situation. “One of them said it’s good to think about conservation, but at the same time these people don’t really have any other choice,” Lin says....

Conservation scientist Hollie Booth of Save Our Seas, which does not work directly with The Dorsal Effect, says the need to provide legal profitable alternatives to shark fishing is critical: “We are never going to solve biodiversity and environment issues unless we think about incentives and take local people’s needs into account. These kinds of programs are really important.”"

-via Mongabay, December 15, 2023

[llamagoddessofficial]

Thank you @aizawasluckylady for this commission!! I love this twist on Siren Red. What's the twist? Well... you'll have to read to find out <3

---

“Mom. I made a new friend.”

You looked up from your meal. Your daughter was picking out her greens, as any seven year old would. But you were so taken aback by her statement that, for once, you didn’t think to mention it.

... You put your fork down. “Oh. You... did?”

Another parent would’ve been less shocked, for certain- probably not even shocked at all. But you had a good reason to be so confused. 

She nodded with the confidence only a child could have. “I met him near the beach.”

Near the beach?

You and your daughter lived in a very small coastal village built across an island. Though the island was certainly well within the reach of the mainland (swimming distance, at low tide it was barely worth getting the boats out of the harbour) the community was cut off, and incredibly tight-knit. It was the kind of place where nothing happened, and everyone knew everyone. 

There were only a handful of local children; all of whom your daughter Sapphy had known her entire life. There weren’t any other friends for her to make. The group of around twelve would go out to play together, in the complete safety of a town surrounded by beaches where crime just wasn’t a thing. And sure, they had fights- all groups of children did. But they still all considered each other friends.

... So how had she made a new friend?

“... That’s nice.” She had your full attention. “What’s his name?”

“His name’s Red.”

...

You glanced away. You didn’t know anyone in town with that name. And as a single mother, you knew everyone’s names. She continued to eat, oblivious to the healthy amount of concern starting to build inside you.

“Is... is Red his nickname?” You asked, gently. You didn’t want to frighten her, or make her think she was in trouble, in case she decided to stop talking.

“Hm... I don’t know." She was talking with her mouth full. "I can ask him tomorrow.”

“Is he someone’s dad?”

“No. He doesn’t live in the village. But he likes to visit when it’s rainy.”

... Your mind was racing. ‘Doesn’t live in town’? Did a passing fisherman talk to her, and just say they were friends to be polite? Red, Red... no, I definitely don’t know a fisherman called Red. Maybe one of the kids changed their name? But then she would’ve just said someone changed their name. She wouldn’t have expressed that it was a ‘new’ friend.

You continued. “... Is he an imaginary friend?”

Sapphy got a look on her face that said ‘ugh, mom, you’re silly’.

“No, mom. I’m too grown up for imaginary friends. Red is real.”

...

The only other option you could think of was...

... That wasn’t possible. 

You tried to keep your expression easygoing, even as your thoughts became more and more tumultuous. If she was talking to a siren, it wouldn’t have been so friendly as to introduce itself to her. A close encounter with a siren would’ve resulted in it ignoring her, or killing her. Even thinking about the second option made you feel too sick to keep eating. The sirens in the waters around the island had a truce with the locals- a famous truce, at that, from hundreds of years ago. Sirens and humans, on your island, quite happily left each other completely alone. 

(They only went after stupid tourists who treated the island like a personal play park, ignoring the very clear ‘do not swim’ signs.)

... Besides. If a siren was going to try to charm someone, it would be a beautiful sailor or a lonely maiden. What would a siren want with your kid? 

You smiled. “I’m glad you made a friend. Is he nice?”

“Yes.” She visibly brightened. “He’s very nice. He makes jokes about fish. They’re not very good but they’re still funny.”

“... Could I meet him?”

Her smile grew even more. “Yeyeah! He said he’s seen you at the beach before. He said he wants to meet you too. And, and he said he’d like to be friends with you too. You’re gonna like him too. He’s very cool. He has a gold tooth."

Hm. Well, the fact that he wanted to meet you made you feel less nervous. Someone with bad intentions would most likely be trying to keep things a secret. Perhaps it was an imaginary friend after all? She was around that age. She’d never had one before, maybe now was the time. And with a name like ‘Red’...

“Could I come with you tomorrow, then? To go meet him.”

“Yeah! We can go to the rocks after breakfast!”

She was beaming. It made you relax a bit. 

There was no need to worry- it was probably an imaginary friend after all.

///---///

“Mom, it’s really important that I go first on my own, okay?” She looked up at you, full of all the worldly seriousness of a small child. The sea wind was tussling her hair, the sounds of the beachgoers muffled behind layers of cliffs. “Red only comes out when it’s just me."

She had taken you down a steep rock path that lead to a very isolated, very quiet cove, hidden from view on all sides. You were completely relaxed about the whole situation now; this was a lovely place to make a secret hideout out of. 

“All on your own? You’re very grown up.”

Her little chest swelled with pride, and she nodded resolutely. “Ok. You stay right there, behind these rocks. I’ll go wait for Red.”

She let go of your hand. You let her go, watching her move confidently over to the water. She found an edge that only a few inches above the sea line- there, she sat down, crossing her legs to wait.

... You assumed she needed some time for dramatic effect, to get into the game. So you settled behind the rock. Your eyes naturally wandered off, admiring the jagged cliff face around you, the clear blue sky overhead, the seabirds wheeling around each other. 

...

“Red!” She said, excitedly. For a moment, the delight in her voice made you smile.

... Then you heard the distinct sound of something very large moving in the water. 

What?

You jumped, coming back out from behind the rock, your gaze immediately snapping back over to your child.

... Your heart stopped.

Sapphy was still sitting on the ledge, right by the water. In front of her was a massive skeleton monster.

His chest alone as big as she was tall. He had his hands on either side of her; the same way you would’ve put your hands on either side to stop her from falling in. You could see his razor teeth, the cruel sharp edge to his phalange claws. Bloody crimson eyelights. The large curved fin on his back, the scars decorating his ribcage.

It was a siren. A huge male shark siren, close enough to your little girl to bite out her throat.

... He was smiling at her. He looked just as happy to see her as she sounded to see him. His huge violent maw, pulled into a grin that was almost loving- he was looking at her with an expression that was so gentle, so caring. You’d never known anyone else but you to give her that look. He was looking at her like she was his daughter.

...

... You weren’t thinking. Stories flashed through your mind, stories you’d forgotten until that moment. Stories of sirens becoming attached to human children and stealing them away on stormy nights. It was far from night, and far from stormy... but all you could see was a monster that wanted your baby.

At the sound of you running, his crimson eyelights flickered over to you. A glimmer of shock.

You grabbed Sapphy by the back of her shirt, sharply pulling her away from the edge, away from him- and in a flurry of pure parental instinct... you balled up your fist, and punched him.

You punched him. Right in the skull.

Pain immediately ricocheted from your knuckles and up your hand, because of course, it was a TERRIBLE idea to hit solid bone like that. You'd basically just punched a rock at full pelt. But you were still just running on pure adrenaline. You picked your daughter up, high out of the siren’s reach, staggering back a few steps- what was he going to do next? Was he going to attack?

...

He was looking at you. His eyelights were starry. Awed. And a ruby colour had spread across his cheekbones, like... a blush.

“... you punched me.” He said, breathlessly. 

///---///

Red knew, deep in his Soul, that you and Sapphy were his family.

... His feelings started out simple enough. A particularly strong infatuation with you- a pretty human that made his non-existent heart sing. He had spotted you one evening, sitting by the harbour with your legs hanging over the edge and your hair moving gently in the wind... he’d instantly tumbled head over fin. Who wouldn’t? He hadn’t felt such an instant attraction to anyone in a long time, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t returned to the island’s shores inbetween hunts in the hopes that he would catch another glimpse of you.

He’d had crushes before, though. He hadn’t thought anything of how enarmoured he was with you. Sure, the feelings were intense, but he it hadn't occurred to him that it was anything out of the ordinary- anything particularly special.

... One morning, you came to the edge of the rocks again. He happened to be there already. In one hand, you had a bucket with a crab fishing line... in the other, you held the tiny hand of your equally tiny daughter.

Red had never been one for children. He found them loud, tiring, too needy.

... But... then he looked at her. The small human with her hand in yours. He heard her voice, full of excitement at the most inconsequential things. He saw the incredible pride in her eyes when she held aloft the crab she caught- a tiny thing, barely bigger than her palm. He felt the gentleness in the smile that you gave her. 

...

The ache in Red’s chest was unfamiliar. He wanted... to hug her. He wanted to pick her up. He wanted to tuck her close and tell her everything was going to be okay... make bad jokes that made her giggle. He wanted her to smile at him, put her tiny hand in his.

He got the dawning, overwhelming feeling that he'd do anything to keep her safe.

Just like that, he finally got why so many siren mothers fought to the death for their children. He’d do the same.

You picked her up to take her home. Seeing you with your daughter in your arms sparked emotions inside him that he didn’t have words powerful enough to describe. In that moment, Red knew his feelings for you went deeper than a simple infatuation. Deeper than anything he’d ever felt before. It didn’t matter that he was an ocean being, and you and here were relegated to the land; there were more than enough stories of sirens using their magic to solve that particular issue. You were his mate, your little daughter was his child. There wasn’t much else to it, in his mind.

... His family. His mate, his child.

...

... Red knew he had to take the introduction slowly. Relations between sirens and humans weren’t exactly wonderful; as desperate as he was to profess his love for you, approaching you first would be disastrous. You were wary, wonderfully intelligent, and well within your right to be greatly suspicious of any friendliness a random shark siren may show you. 

... But human children were sweet. Open-minded, naive.

Things had gone so well with Sapphy. She thought he was cool- she laughed at his shitty jokes, gleefully poked at his golden tooth, and he successfully held himself back from telling her about how he was her dad now. He had never felt so fulfilled before.

... 

He should’ve expected that his good luck with her would come at the expense of his luck with you.

Here he was. His cheekbone stung. His mate was bristling with anger, and his baby could sense her mother’s emotions- so now, she was frightened too, slowly undoing the work he’d already done to get her to trust him. Red knew he should’ve been panicked, racing through situations in his mind, racing through ways to win you both back.

...

... But all he could feel, looking at your beautiful angry face, was attraction.

Perhaps it was the shark in him, drawn to displays of aggression. You’d punched him. You, a little human woman, completely on her own... at the sight of your daughter in possible danger you had run up to a shark siren and hit it- hit him- square in the face. How could that not make his Soul shudder in his chest? He felt like his love was well-placed.

Besides. The situation was far from unsalvageable.

“hey... hey.” He kept his tone even, trying to shake off the wave of adoration he felt. focus, red, focus. He held up his hands. “it’s okay. easy.”

“Get away from her!” You were frightened, he could tell. More angry than frightened, though. Hopped up on adrenaline and the kind of parental instinct he knew to be wary of.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you.” He lowered into the water more, to appear less large and intimidating. “it’s nice to finally meet you. i’m red.”

You were shaking. But you were also noticeably confused, probably not expecting him to be polite. Hopefully he could get the confusion to trump the anger.

“you’re her mom, right?” He smiled. “can sea the resemblance. you’ve got the same eyes.”

“What do you want?” You snapped, sharply, missing the joke. 

He paused. What did he want? He couldn’t answer you honestly yet. He’d need a few hours to explain fully, and another month at least of bonding to ensure you wouldn’t take it the wrong way and run.

“... just a conversation.” He said. Half true.

You didn’t believe him. It was written all over your pretty face. He kept his voice very, very gentle, trying to lay on the charm.

“c’mon. you’re okay. we both know that if i wanted to do somethin’, i already would’ve.” 

“You can’t do anything.” You pulled Sapphy in tighter. “The treaty.”

“... exactly.” As if he’d ever hurt either of you. “if i wanted a meal i would go somewhere else. somewhere with more idiot tourists.”

You exhaled sharply from your nose, jaw shifting. You didn’t take your eyes off him, not even for a moment- but he could tell that you (at least) agreed with his dislike of disrespectful tourists.

... A crease appeared between his brow bones, the waves lapping softly around his body. He had one more card to play- he didn’t want to play it, it felt scummy. But he was more afraid of losing his chance with his family than he was of the moral implications of the tactics he used.

He let his expression soften even more. 

“... i’m a siren. not an animal. i don’t just go around killin’ and eatin’ everything i see, y’know? i don’t want to hurt you. or your kid.” 

... There was a delay. But... slowly, a small amount of guilt seemed to dawn over you.

He was getting through.

Sapphy, still cuddled against your chest, spoke up. 

“... Mom. Red’s my friend.”

You looked at her. Your face wobbled, like you couldn’t decide whether to be angry or not, but your voice came out stern. “You didn’t tell me he was a siren. We’re talking about this, later.”

“don’t be mad at her. she’s just tryna kelp me out.”

... 

Sapphy’s face lit up, a smile that allowed hope to settle in his chest again. She wasn’t afraid of him- she still liked him. He had that small victory, at least.

You didn’t laugh at his joke. You were staring.

“i’m the gill-ty one here.” He continued. “it’s not her fault she didn’t think some-fin fishy was going on.”

This time, Sapphy giggled aloud.

“See, mom?” She looked up at you. “I told you he makes bad jokes.”

As her eyes turned to you, so did his. He was delighted to see that you had visibly eased. Though he would’ve liked to have chalked it up to his humoiur, he knew it was probably your daughter’s laughter. The sound of her joy was infectious.

... You quickly hardened again, though. “We’re leaving. We’re going to talk about this at home.”

Her little face fell. “What? But...”

“it’s ok, kid.” Red said, gently. “listen to your mom.”

...

Funnily enough, after everything, it was that that seemed to soften you. You gave him a glance that was far less sharp than anything you’d given before, as if despite all your suspicions and reservations you were still appreciative of his gesture. Although he definitely missed the aggression, still unable to help himself but be drawn to it, he much preferred this gentler glance.

...

You spoke reservedly. Trying not to let any emotion show. “I’m... sorry I punched you. Red.”

“... it’s okay.” He let his grin widen a bit. “i hope your hand is okay.”

With that, you turned, starting to walk away.

Though his logical side tried to calm him (they live on an island, they can’t get far) he still felt panic, deep down, at the sight of you leaving with her in your arms. His mate and baby were moving away from him. no. please don’t go. please don’t take her away from me.

... Nothing his logic could’ve said, however, soothed him more than the sight of Sapphy happily waving goodbye to him over your shoulder.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Maybanks sister

Series masterlist , previous chapter

Taglist- @cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow

Part 2, Chapter 2- a not so fun sleepover

Summary: it is just your luck at this point. You and Kiara get caught by some weird people in the Barbados after finally getting off ‘poguelandia.’ You’re trapped with your psycho ex. Again. For a second time.

After what felt like a year, finally, someone had come to rescue you guys.

Now, you guys had been saved. You were thankful for whoever this dude was for picking you guys up, thankful to get off this damn island already.

“I got a little guide out in Saint Vincent. I was spotting fish.” He told you guys as you sat down in his plane.

“What were you spotting?” You asked the man, curious.

“You know, the usual. Wahoo.”

You quirked an eyebrow, JJ also seemed confused as he turned to you.

“Wahoo? In September?” You whispered to JJ. He had the same confused look.

“That doesn’t make sense.” He whispered back.

“I’d hang on to something. Gets a little spicy on takeoff.”

“Wahoo doesn’t run in September. Like ever.” You told them all quietly. “Kinda wish it did, cause then we’d have been eating it…” you trailed off. “It tastes so good.”

“Yeah. So whoever this dude is, he’s not a fisherman.” JJ spoke.

“Maybe the run just starts earlier out here.” Pope shrugged.

You tilted your head to the side. “In the carribean? Unlikely. They usually-“

“No, I know what this is. He’s working for my dad. And he’s probably been looking for us the entire time.” Sarah cut you off, everyone turning to her now.

“All right, we gotta find out.” JJ said. “Just gotta look for clues…”

You tapped on JJs shoulder, and pointed to a bag on the back of his seat.

“Hey, Jimmy.” John B spoke, distracting the man while JJ slowly reached for the bag, taking it and rummaging through everything. He opened a book and found a picture, a picture of the coastal venture.

He handed it to Sarah.

“So he was looking for us?” Cleo said.

“Exactly.”

“He’s working for my dad.”

“I say we all jump off.” You pointed down. The plane shook suddenly, you all grabbing on.

“Hey, yall better hold something we got some unexpected turbulence up here.”

“Guys, whatever it is, it’s happening fast. Look.”

Everyone looked out the window, seeing some land.

“That looks like Barbados. I’ve been there with Terrence.”

“Okay.. there’s 7 of us, one of him. You know my vote, we storm the cockpit.” Jj told everyone.

“Idiot. None of us know how to fly a damn plane.” You hit him in the arm.

“I’ve seen pope fly simulators.”

“Yeah, and I’ve flown the fucking Death Star on Lego Star Wars, doesn’t mean I can fly.” You shrugged.

“Well do you have an idea?” He turned to you.

“Something safe..?”

“Why don’t we just wait until the plane lands somewhere safe, and then we sneak out. And if someone comes to mess with us, we mad dog them.” Pope spoke.

“Yeah. I like that way better.” You nodded.

“I like the mad-dogging part.” Jj tilted his head.

“Just put that back. Put it back. Be cool.” Kiara told JJ, John B distracting him again so JJ could put the stuff back into the bag.

“I’ve been going since I was 18-“ he spoke, and heard a sudden noise. JJ had been caught.

“Hey man! What the hell are you doing?” He turned to JJ, slapping him away. “That’s mine! That’s my book, give it back!”

“Fly the plane! Please fly the plane. Please fly the plane.” Sarah said, the plane shaking. You were knocked straight into Cleo who helped you sit back up quickly.

The plane crashed into the water as he struggled to get it up. Everyone screaming as they fell into the back, you all piling on top of each other. The plane filled with water.

“Is everybody good?” You asked them, everyone coughing.

“Jj, wake up, man we gotta get out.” you helped him get up. John B shoved open the door, multiple people coming over.

“Oh no. They don’t look friendly.”

“No, they look very unfriendly!”

“We gotta go, come on.”

They all got out.

“Kie, go!” You told her.

“I’m coming. Go!”

“I’m not leaving until you do.”

“Guys, get out before it sinks!” JJ told you both. Kiara looked at you and back behind you, at the man sinking.

You groaned when she began to swim over, you following.

“Come on, you gotta hurry!”

They all shouted out you both. You helped Kiara get through the plane and unbuckled the man, helping her carry him through the window.

The others were all swimming now.

“Come on guys, hurry up! Hurry up!”

“We got you.” Kiara panted to him, the man unconscious as you both carried him to shore.

“Wait, where are they?” Jj asked, turning around.

“You guys, where the fuck are they?”

“They went the other way.”

You both brought him up to shore, Kiara coughing as you brought her close to you.

“Thank you.” The man told you both, awake now.

“You lied to us. Who are you?” Kiara asked, an Atv interrupting him.

“Oh God. You should get out of here.”

You stood up, helping Kiara up and both of you running away from the men.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” JJ mumbled, watching.

You both looked around, a car pulling up. You both hid by a boat, before getting caught.

“They’re over here!”

You punched a man square in the face who tried to grab Kiara, sweeping his leg and making him fall before another caught your arm. And another grabbing Kiara as you thrashed and screamed.

“Get off!” You shouted, they both dragged you guys into their trucks as you struggled.

“What… what are we gonna do?” JJ asked, teary eyes. “We’re going after them, right?”

“What… what can we do?” John B spoke.

“Where are they talking them?”

“They’re all right there, they’re looking this way we gotta go.” Cleo said and began to swam. The other followed but Jj stayed behind for a moment.

“JJ come on. We can’t save them if we get caught.”

“We lost the others. We’ll keep searching.” You heard a voice over the man’s radio.

Kiara stayed in the bed of the truck, you looked around for a moment before jumping out and before you could even tell her to get out, you were being shouted at.

You ran away, as far as you could. But that wasn’t very far before they caught you again, one of them punching you and knocking you down, your cheek falling right back onto the sand.

“Jesus, dude! I’m gonna have a black fucking eye!” You shouted, groaning as they threw you back into the truck.

“Worth a shot, I guess.” You shrugged when Kiara looked at you in shock.

The pilot came up to the truck.

“We saved your life.” Kiara whispered to him.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m gonna try to help you, okay? I swear, I didn’t know it was gonna be like this. Look, if you don’t fight, if you just do what they say, these guys probably… they probably won’t hurt you.”

“Probably?” You recoiled, making a face at him.

“What did Ward promise you?” Kiara asked.

“Who? Hey, just take my advice, do what they say. Good luck.”

The man got back in the truck.

“All right, let’s go.”

- - - - ᨳ꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ഒ - - - -

“Jesus, this dude is loaded.” You whispered to yourself when the truck drove up to the house. Kiara and you looked at each other worriedly as you were being walked in.

The house was huge, full of antiques and relics.

“Take them upstairs. The Orinoco room.” One women said, and you both were grabbed by the arm and dragged upstairs.

You shoved the dudes arm off you when you entered the room.

“Inside.”

“Why are we here? Who are you working for?”

“Dinner at eight. I’d clean up.”

“Just tell us what they want!-“ Kiara shouted, but the man shut the door in her face and the door locked.

“Great. This is fun. A little sleepover.”

Kiara looked out the window, and you looked at the dresses hanging up.

“At least they’ve got taste…?” You mumbled, flicking through the dresses. Two red dresses for each size.

“Pick your size.” The note read. You shrugged to yourself, grabbing one.

“Least it gets me out of these clothes.”

Later, the both of you were escorted downstairs.

“You know, this dress looks actually pretty good on me. Think they’ll let me keep it?” You asked Kiara when you walked downstairs, looking at yourself in a mirror.

“Why out of everyone to be stuck with did it have to be you?” She murmured.

“I’m offended. I think it’s a lot better than being struck with JJ. I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”

As you walked down and were directed into a room.

“Uh, excuse me?” Kiara said to a man, with a shaved head.

The man turned around, his eyes meeting yours first, his face falling.

“No, I knew you and Ward were behind this shit.” Kiara spoke, your mouth agape as you stared at him as in shock.

“What are you talking about? You guys trying to weasel in on my deal? Is that what’s going on?” He walked towards Kiara.

“No fucking way!” You shouted, turning on your heels, holding your hands up and beginning to walk out before a guard manhandled you inside, throwing you onto the floor. “Goddamnit!” You huffed.

“Is there like any other room I can be in? Specifically without him?” You asked the guard, before he slammed the door in your face.

“Seriously?” Rafe started. “You’re so fucking imm-“

“Yes, seriously! Last time I saw you was months ago, and you held a gun to my head and a knife to my throat! How am I immature?��� You pointed at him, standing up and getting closer to him, shouting in his face now.

“I wondered if your little reunion would cause sparks, you know.” A man said. All of you turning to him now. He chuckled and turned.

“Who are you?” Rafe asked the man.

“Me? My name is Carlos Singh. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cameron. And Ms. Carrera and l/n, I do apologize for the rough tactics of bringing you here.”

He turned his gaze to you.

“And I heard you’re a fighter. And a runner. Roughed up a few of my guys.” He chuckled. “All is forgiven. Please, come.” He motioned to the other room.

Kiara looked back at you.

“Sit down.”

Rafe looked at Kiara and at you, you sneered at him and walked behind Kiara, your arms crossed as you sat down on a chair.

“Rough tactics. What about me?” Rafe asked the man.

“Yes, Mr. Cameron. False pretenses. But, the ends justify the means, I’m afraid. Sit. Please.”

Rafe sat on a chair next to you, while you scooted over as far as you possibly could. He exhaled as he looked at you and back at the man.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, fucking right we do.” You scoffed, leaning back in the chair.

- - - - ᨳ꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ഒ - - - -

“Hey. Hey!” He shouted, hanging on the closed door and messing with the doorknob.

“Oh my God, yeah I’m gonna lock myself in the bathroom, do not disturb me.” You murmured as the man shut the door, Kiara grabbing your wrist and stopping you.

“If I have to deal with him, so do you.”

You groaned. “It’s locked, you dumbass.” You told him when he tried to continue to get it open. Kiara and you walked towards the window, he followed.

“Get off me, man!” Portis shouted.

“Who the hell is that guy?” Rafe asked, watching the man be dragged.

“We know him. It’s Jimmy Portis. He was trying to help us.” Kiara whispered. Singh looked at the window, pulling out a gun.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Rafe spoke, the man dissapearing in the back. All you could hear was the gun firing.

Rafe swallowed, Kiara panted, your mouth hung open in shock.

“This diary. Hey, no bullshit.” He turned to you, “don’t bullshit me. Do you guys have it?”

“I don’t know anything about a damn diary!” You told him. “You sure you don’t?”

“I think I would know if I fucking-“ he started.

“Kie?” You turned to her, voice hopeful. She shook her head.

“No.”

“Well, it’s official. We’re all dying together.” You said with a groan, running a hand over your face.

“Nobodies dying.” Rafe said, glancing at you.

“Yeah? What’s your bright idea then, buzz?” You asked, your arms crossed.

Ouch, went straight for the haircut.

[adickaboutspoons]

By the Neck; or, Pearls Mean Tears

I know we all love the idea that Ed snatched the pearl necklace from the neck of one of the guests (or possibly even the bride herself) on the wedding party boat, and how that ties in with his re-painted bride dolly and his longing to be Stede’s bride. I’ve been responsible for propagating the idea myself. So I hate to rain on our parade, but, oh my v. dears? We were wrong.

Stop looking at Ed’s soft, open mouth and beautiful, haunted eyes for a second, and take a glance at the bottom of the frame at what’s tucked up next to the left lapel of his big Blackbeard duster (srsly, how did I not notice those ridiculously oversized lapels in the trailer? I am so dumb sometimes). And lest you think that he, perhaps snatched the necklace sometime between unleashing “the kids” and the camera cutting back to him nonchalantly enjoying some cake? Here’s the necklace on “the day before that,” visible just under the curve of the top pistol on his chest:

And here it is again “the day before that,” two pearls on the strand just barely visible as he’s lighting his pipe:

So sorry my v. dears, but no. the pearls don’t represent his desire to be partnered with Stede. But that’s ok - we already have a piece of neckware that represents that: Stede’s cravat. Which Ed donned specifically so that he could die in it…

And we know that he did that, because he was only wearing the pearl necklace and his habitual gold chains from the first season just before he babygirled his way right into the path of the storm. (Also - since the crew were huddled in the hallway leading to the captain’s cabin just before they came out to find Ed angling the cannon toward the mast, do we reckon he already had it on him when he came out to take the helm? Maybe tucked away in his pocket? Where he used to keep his silk?)

But! When Ed gets to the Gravy Basket, only the pearls remain.

Similarly when he’s manacled to the railing after he awakens from his coma, he’s only wearing the pearls. There’s no good Watsonian reason to take the cravat and the chains, but LEAVE the pearls. If the characters were worried about him choking, it would make sense to remove ALL the neckwear. If Stede wanted his clothes back for some reason or Ed didn’t want it now that Stede’s back and he’s mad at him, removing the cravat makes sense, but why remove the jewelry that rightly belongs to Ed, meaning he’d still have his chains along with the pearls. If it was a matter of the crew taking Ed’s valuables as an asshole tax or something, then we’d expect chains AND pearls to be gone, leaving just the cravat. I can’t think of a single in-universe reason why only the pearls would stay.

That tells us that the pearls are SYMBOLICALLY significant to his character concept and, especially since they show up in the Gravy Basket where EVERYTHING is symbolic, integrated into his concept of self.

So if not all the bridal stuff, how ARE we meant to interpret them?

Well, first, pearls are tied to the sea, and I think it’s fair to say that in almost all iterations of his identity, Ed sees himself intrinsically linked with or near the sea (The Pirate Blackbeard, The Kraken, the Impossible Bird that never returns to land, Jeff’s Inn by the Sea, Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill and other Delicacies and Delights and Fishing Equipment, and Fisherman Ed). But various mythologies posit pearls are the tears of gods or goddesses, intrinsically linking them with expressions of sorrow. And beyond that, there’s What Pearls Are - an irritant that has to be smoothed over with layer upon layer of visually appealing cover to make it acceptable.

We know that Ed thinks he’s profoundly unlovable. He admits it to himself in as many words in the Gravy Basket, but we’ve known this from season 1 when he confessed to Stede that he’s not a good person, and that’s why he hasn’t any friends. We see plenty of people with whom he is on friendly terms, like Jack or Anne and Mary, or who respect or admire Blackbeard, like his crew and Spanish Jackie, and Jeff easily wins over the crowd on the French Party Boat, but Blackbeard and Jeff are protective personas he cultured like layers of nacre. They’re not Just Ed.

Just Ed made himself profoundly vulnerable and kissed a boy on a beach. Just Ed got abandoned on a dock. Just Ed got told that it would have been better if the English had killed him.

So I think it’s significant that he and Stede exchange their second kiss when he’s been stripped of his pearls in exchange for a cat bell.

This is Ed devoid of all the signifiers of his self-constructed identities - just like on the beach with his clean-shaved face and standard-issue academy uniform - no pretenses to hide behind. He’s able to be soft and vulnerable and honest - expressing desire and being receptive of it, clearly establishing his needs and boundaries. He’s able to be Just Ed and be loved and accepted for it.

So what does it mean that, once the cat-bell era is over, Ed choses to put the pearls back on?

I think it’s telling that, after a brief interlude with Ned Low, we start episode 6 with Ed in two scenes where he’s in a state of low-grade anxiety over the fruits of his Kraken era. First, we see him scanning a horizon for a storm that he can feel, but not see, which, as pointed out by @edsbacktattoo is more or less a premonition about the impending arrival of Ned Low, whom Kraken!Ed goaded into coming for him by breaking his consecutive raid record in a bid of passive suicidality. Then, we have Ed’s room of gilded guilt. All this represents, to Ed, tangible evidence of his inherent toxicity - the rotten core of him that has to be smoothed over.

I think it’s also significant that the pearls are there for the sex scene at the end of the episode.

Unlike the scene at the end of episode 5, this is NOT Ed giving and receiving love on his own terms. Ned’s appearance was his fault - the result of his recklessness and self-destruction, and Stede is the one who has paid the price for it. Ed consents to sex, though he wanted to take things slow, and is not really ready, but it’s by no means enthusiastic. It’s relenting. It’s a way of smoothing things over for and with Stede rather than addressing the underlying agitation.

Even though Ed rids himself of his leathers - the last trappings of his Blackbeard persona, dropped overboard just like the bride doll he painted in his image - he keeps the pearls when he assumes his “just a regular guy” guise.

Because this isn’t really Ed expressing and embracing his authentic self. Fisherman Ed is just another palatable persona (a whim borne on the back of one caught fish, because if the people in his life are going to keep telling him he’s whim-prone, he may as well lean all the way in and prove them right, right?). All the same underlying anxiety about being unlovable is still there, and it’s thrown into overdrive now that everyone wants a piece of Stede. After all, if he REALLY loves Stede, would it not be best to release him from the obligation of being tied to someone so fundamentally damaged? Let him find someone who can TRULY make him happy now that he can have his pick? So he picks a fight to push Stede away - tells him that their first time together was “a mistake,” tells him that he’s leaving (again), tells him that fishermen and pirates (read: Ed and Stede) have nothing in common.

So, while they are lovely, and he wears those fine things well, I hope that we might soon see the end of the strand of pearls. Because for Ed, pearls mean tears.

[itsagrimm]

He Who Comes from Under the Water

Chapter 7 - The Knife

Monster!König X she/her afab Reader

CN  Pressure of having children, emotional midlife crisis of a dead woman (it sounds funny, but I made myself cry writing that part), grieving dead family members. Discussions of female* relationship issues in hetero relationships, implied talk of rape, implied forced pregnancy, talk of sexual assault and rape in relationships, talk of forced marriage, mentions of drowning and past trauma, pregnancy as body horror. Implications of potential abortions using herbs (don’t try this at home).

eventual smut.

Notes for better understanding at the bottom!

Beta-read by @queenquazar. thanks having me despite my extreme questioning if this is actually good. I wrote half of this while having a slight fever and it shows.

5k words

Masterlist

You remembered your mother as a beautiful woman. The edge of life and age had polished her, making her shine brighter year by year, until the day she died. With her back to you, she stood in the kitchen, working on something as you entered the room as you had so many times before.

“Is it you, daughter?”

You missed her voice. She sounded so real, the memories coming back as those words rang bright and happy, while she turned to greet you.

“Dear, we haven’t seen each other for too long.”

Her face was like you remembered it. Maybe.

“Let me look at you. Are you eating well? Sleeping well? You need to take breaks in the sun. Soon, it will be too cold to stay out again.”

You nodded to the beautiful, kind, stranger called mother.

“Sit down, daughter. Tell me, have you found a husband? Is he treating you well? A good young man from the village or maybe from a bit further away?”

You let yourself get pushed onto one of the familiar chairs, the wood of the rest pushing into your back, and a cup of tea being placed before you.

“I’m about to be married. I… he… he is good to me.”

“And what does he do?” A friendly but practical look danced over ‘Mothers’ face.

Nervously, you fumbled with the tablecloth before placing your hands flat on the table, “Uhm- he is really good at fishing, and currently he is building a new home.”

'Mother' nodded.

“A fisherman and carpenter. Hm. Hm. It’s good to have a capable man in the family. He better give you beautiful children or I’ll haunt him.”

“Uhm- I’m not sure that will happen.”

“Of course, it will. You will love it,” The stranger chuckled. “Or more like you will be loved. For a while at least.”

“And then what?”

The stranger shrugged her shoulders.

“Then you turn older. And wiser, so you will know what you want. And stronger, so you will ask for it. And then you know how to move or dress to feel beautiful. And he will hate it. You will be loved no more, except by your children and the other women. So have children. And friends.” ‘Mother’ nodded. “That’s how it goes, daughter. You say he is a good man?”

“Yes?” A strange feeling weighed you down deep in your stomach. A feeling of doubt, despite your decision to stay with König. “Are you saying he isn’t?”

“How should I know? I am dead. Just do what I did. It wasn’t too bad. Right? I had you. And I loved you until I died.”

You looked across the table. ‘Mother’ smiled softly, looking down at her hands like a shy girl admitting a secret. She was a stranger. She had lived with you in this house, every day you could recall. And yet you had hardly known her. Was that what she had wanted? Staying in the house and watching her children grow, only to have them leave one day when they did not need her anymore? Or had she stayed because she could not imagine anything else? Because she did not dare to leave?

You could not help but reach over the table, taking your mothers’ hands.

There was not a thing in the world you would back down from to protect the woman that had given you a life. And your heart ached with the realisation that it was too late for her.

But maybe not for you.

“Right, mother. I love you too.”

You opened your eyes, staring at the familiar ceiling. Getting up was out of the question. Instead you laid there, tears filling up your eyes before slowly running down to the side of your face.

The dream felt too real to simply brush it aside. Instead, you wanted nothing more than to have your mother back, hold her, talk to her, and give her all the things she had ever wanted from life. It was unfair how she had given you so much and all you could give her was … what exactly? Your mother was dead. It mattered little what she had expected of you, wished for you… or herself. You could do how you pleased; the villagers had shunned you anyways. That freedom however, felt hollow without the woman who had sacrificed so much for you.

And was it wise to use that freedom for König?

Doubt crept up in you, the possibility of death and sadness, present once more.

Was there a life without marriage?

Where you could leave, live, and maybe love, how you wanted, without fear or fighting to survive?

A knock woke you from your melancholy thoughts.

“Who is it?” You called as you sat up and wiped away your tears while turning to the door.

“Wrong direction, darling. Check the window!” A stranger’s voice called out.

Confused, your head whipped around. A woman was before your window, staring directly at you.

How is that possible? You could not help yourself but wonder at the sight of someone peeking through your upstairs window.

The woman waved at you.

“Hi, People call me Baba Yaga but I prefer Farah. That no-good-wet-little-king-and-fiancé-of-yours asked me to come here to help.”

You rushed to get dressed while König, always on guard these days, waited for you downstairs. As you finished braiding your hair, you stumbled downwards. You knew of Baba Yaga. She was no one to anger or to leave waiting. There were guards and gods out there in the world, elders to be respected and traditions to be followed. And then there was her, putting all of them to shame.

She was the maiden, the mother, the old one to turn to when cursing a former lover or in need of help when slaying a monster. Baba Yaga was the knife - ready to make a pleasant meal or spill blood.

You did not know what to make of Königs decision to call Baba Yaga for help. Was it wise? Or was the price for her help higher than you could afford?

“I’m ready,” You called out as you entered the kitchen. “Oh, wait!” You grabbed a bowl of collected berries, “Can’t go into a house without a present,” You explained.

That would be rude. No one gets away with being rude to Baba Yaga.

König nodded before getting up from his seat, a chair this time.

For a brief moment you saw his eyes wander to his axe leaning at the wall, before he moved on.

He is nervous too.

“It’s gonna be fine.” You tried to reassure him. Or yourself.

König managed a smile before reaching for your hand and holding it, his large clawed hands clasping carefully around yours. 

“I know, Bride. We can do this.”

Together, you stepped out of your home only to see a wooden house on chicken legs in your garden trampling over your sorry attempts of growing buckwheat.

“Great,” You could not help but comment dryly. “How do we move it?”

“Allow me,” König declared before loudly calling out to the house. “Избушка, избушка, повернись ко мне передом, к лесу — задом!”

The house stilled in its light swaying, like a cat that got reprimanded for what it planned on doing.

“Пожалуйста!” König added pleadingly and the house trotted around and tilted forward, appearing oddly unwilling about it.

“Thank you for moving from the field,” you mumbled.

König stepped up to the Chicken-legged-house and knocked on the door while you lingered beside him.

“Honourable Elder, please let us in and hear our words.”

“You made it,” Was all the answer you got before the door flung open. “Finally. I hate waiting.”

In the doorway before you stood Baba Yaga, the woman who had waved at you in the window. Now you knew she had done it from her unusually high and walking house.

“Honourable Elder sounds lovely, but Farah is enough,” She noted and stepped aside. “Come on in. I made tea.”

Carefully you followed König’s soft tug as he helped you up to the high door, lifting you like you weighed as little as the logs he brought you.

Inside, it was just like any other house you had seen. There was a large oven, a table, jars with pickled contents and marmalade everywhere, and a beautiful tapestry with symmetrical flowers on the wall.

“Welcome to my home,” Farah declared and motioned to the table and a few chairs for you to sit.

“Thank you for having us,” You replied politely and passed her the bowl of berries. “I am sorry. It’s not much. But I hope our little gift pleases you.”

“It does. Sit, sister.” Farah gave you an approving nod.

 And so you did, taking a spot next to König, who had chosen one of the chairs which protested loudly, with troubling creaks as he sat down.

Waiting for Farah to finish setting the table, you studied her. She was beautiful and carried herself with confidence. Farah appeared maybe a bit older than you. But you felt like a child getting a visit from an aunt, not some years, but centuries between you two.

“Thank you for having us,” You said with a timid nod as Farah finally sat, intimidated by the powerful stranger. It had been so long since someone new was barely passing the threshold of being just nice to you.

König looked stoically like nothing was out of the ordinary, the little cup of tea looking ridiculously tiny in his massive hands. Being in the presence of powerful beings was nothing unusual for him, you reminded yourself, no matter what - he was one of them.

Farah tugged at her scarf as she sipped from her tea while eyeing the berries before finally releasing you from the awkward silence your words had left in the air.

“You are welcome. It’s a pleasure meeting you.” She  reached for a spoon to casually stir her tea, while avoiding your careful yet curious gaze. “So, you are König’s fiancé? The rumoured Bride of the Vodyanoy?”

“Yes,” You answered plainly.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

She looked up from her cup, her dark eyes finding yours and pinning you to your seat with unforgiving kindness before switching over to König, like a blade slashing around.

“Lovely. What business do I have with that?”

“Oh, none at all,” König interjected smoothly like an eel slipping over wet stones. “We want no trouble with you. Just your blessings.”

Farah leaned back and put down her cup, her eyes piercing through the air like you and König were made out of nothing but thin skin and brittle bone, ready to be dissected and studied. Under her gaze, that likely was true.

“Don’t waste daylight, slime king. I could have spent my time other than coming here.”

“My utmost apologies, honourable Farah,” König continued with a most charming smile. “There is just the issue of my bride's possible death by drowning when she becomes my wife and queen. Do you, by any chance, maybe, possibly-”

“Cut it, König. You want me to waterproof your bride like she is some kind of unsinkable boat. Got it.”

He stilled in his movements before replying, “Yes. Can you do that?”

The honourable Farah sighed as if she had heard that request several times this morning already.

“Is that all? What else do you want me to do, hm? Make the fish sing and dance at your wedding? Build that new palace of yours in one night? Make her a wedding dress while I’m at it?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” König snapped back, his charming smile now more frozen than friendly in his face.

“Listen, König. I never took you as wanting to marry. You always looked so content with splashing around the ponds on your own. You did not even care much for the company of your own kin. Why not marry a rusalka? At least they can not drown.”

Uncomfortably, you looked at the cup in your hands, trying to be as invisible from the conversation as possible while gathering as much as you could. The idea of König being with someone else, a beautiful watery creature like himself, shifted something inside you and you did not know where to put it.

“No. I want to marry her. She is my Bride. I promised it.”

His words pearled down like warm summer rain.

He was so sure of it.

“To whom did you promise that?” Farah inquired further.

“Her grandfather. He used to fish at my pond.”

For a brief moment it was silent as you stared into the dark liquid in your cup as if it held the secrets of the universe.

Then Farah broke out laughing.

“That sounds more like you, König.” She gasped. “Acquiring a bride from a fisherman. Alright, that sounds precisely how the King of everything From Under the Water would get married.”

Amused, Farah looked back at you. “Are you happy with that, dear?”

You blinked, like a deer that got stuck between two rivalling wolves. Your eyes wandered to König who had the most trying neutral expression on his face somewhere under all that tangled hair.

“Uhm. I suppose,” You answered, dumbfoundedly. Since when did your happiness and not just your survival matter?

Farah raised one of her eyebrows.

“You suppose…” She repeated and grabbed her cup and spoon. “Get out.”

It was on you to raise your eyebrows.

“I’m sorry?” You questioned, a little fire in you giving you strength. You might have been just a tiny little human with brittle bones and thin skin, but you had tasted kindness again and you weren’t ready to give up on that yet.

“Not you.” Farah waved at you dismissively, “You, yes you heard me, König. Get out before I turn you into a frog. I need to talk to her alone.”

For a moment König stared angrily at Farah to be kicked out of the house like an unwelcome guest.

Then he turned his head and looked at you.

It was terrifying to be alone with Baba Yaga, may she call herself Farah and talk like a pleasant relative coming by for a visit, or not. The woman was powerful. But she had treated you kindly so far. And you needed her. Maybe this was for the better? Perhaps you could convince the powerful Baba Yaga to help you on your own, where König was failing. You could do this.

Smiling the most reassuring smile you could muster, you nodded. 

“I will be fine, König. Can you stay close please?”

König grumbled a ‘of course’ before getting up and exiting the house, leaving you and the Baba Yaga alone.

“They say it’s magic what I do, but most of my craft is giving stern looks and straight words,” Farah smiled deviously.

“Tell you what, sister,” She paused. “You don’t sound unsure about this marriage. König might be a king, but I never paid attention to titles anyway. They are all the same sorry puffed up men to me. If you want to get away from him, I can help you. It would be fun to have someone willing to learn the craft from me. You could be like a sister to me. I will not do that unkempt king's bidding, enable or convince you to marry, if you don’t want to.”

You looked away. An offering to stay by the Baba Yaga herself.

She is a knife, you remembered, she cares but she cuts too. I do not want to be cut no more.

“That is kind of you, Farah. I am humbled by your offering. But even if it’s complicated, I want to stay.”

“Foolish girl,” She said with a tone that did not mean it. “How is it complicated, sister? Do you not love him then?”

You took a sip from the cup. The tea tasted like nothing in your mouth, but you hardly paid attention.

Would there be a point in lying? You knew the stories of the powerful and clever Baba Yaga. And you had met speaking animals and beings you only knew from tales. Farah would have her ways to find out if she truly wanted the truth. And she likely would not appreciate being lied to.

You swallowed and decided to play it safe.

“My family is dead. All of them. The village shunned me because they thought I was cursed, and one of them repeatedly berated and even attacked me,” You explained. “König is fine. I don’t know him very well, yet. But he looks out for me, he really does. And he does not expect me to do anything more … physically - He promised. And he never forced himself closer to me even if he certainly had the chance and strength to do so. He just needs a queen to show around. And I need a protector. It is … okay. I have made my peace with it… so I thought. But … I had a bad dream. And it confused me. And König told me I might be in danger from drowning because I am human, and he is not. I nearly drowned already. I fear the water since I know him. Can’t stand being deeper in it than to my ankles. That’s why he sent out for you to maybe help with that. So that I will not die in the water by being with him.”

Farah slowly blinked, inhaling and exhaling before leading back in her chair.

“That’s a lot,” Farah finally spoke. “And they say a maiden’s life is light.”

You huffed. “Do they?”

“Older men in taverns do - talk like they know of the world while sitting around.”

“If you say so. I have never been to a tavern. Never left the village.” You answered, feeling foolish now like you knew nothing of the world.

Farah only hummed, closing her eyes as if in deep thought.

“Tell you what, sister,” She opened her eyes. “I will give you knowledge to protect yourself from death by that wet boy of yours.”

Farah got up and started cutting and mixing dried herbs in a large mortar.

“Like most men out there, he probably never even considered that a suffering. Acting like his presence is a gift to the world. You say he does not touch you? Fine. Here, take this.”

You stretched out your hands over the table and she passed you a pouch of the herbal mixture.

“Have you paid attention to what and how much I put in it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. As long as you want, you shall be barren. There will be no child coming from your womb. Just drink a cup of tea made from this mixture every day. Even if that wet-rag-king breaks his promise or you two might change your mind, you shall choose your fate. Quite frankly, without some intervention and knowledge, his dick is more likely to cause you harm than any water ever could. Drowning is faster than carrying a child you don’t want. If your mother were still alive, I’m sure she would tell her beloved daughter all her secrets.”

You looked at the pouch in your hands.

A knife, you thought, a knife to care and cut. Is that a betrayal? To König? To my family? To Mother?

“I don’t know if my mother would have ever told me.”

Farah crossed her arms, grumbling disapprovingly.

“Who knows. But I did. Your choice now. You can always just not drink the tea, right?”

You thought about it. Your mother haunting your dreams and speaking as if having children was the only path to happiness out there. And then you thought of König, his careful act towards you, his hand holding yours, his chest pressing against you, and how observant he was of what you need. How he asked and listened to you. How he would be towards a child. And then you thought of his size and what kind of child from him could grow in your tiny body. If that even was possible. Instinctively your hand closed around the little pouch.

Maybe no one but me is truly looking out for me. Maybe that’s all I am doing? Since when is that a betrayal?

“Right. Thank you,” You mumbled.

“If he ever does break his promise, you are welcome to live with me, and I will boil that fishy king in one of his ponds,” Farah continued as she returned to her seat at the table, sipping from her tea and smiling with glee, “As a little sign of gratitude for my wisdom, entertain me and tell me all about that village of yours and what gossip came from it. I want to know about those who think they can recognize a curse where there is none.”

A knife to cut and care. But not me. Not today.

You leaned back and started telling the stories and lies about you.

And Baba Yaga listened.

You stepped out of Baba Yaga's door and the chicken legged house titled forward to help you walk down the steps to the ground. König was sitting there in the grass, waiting for you.

“Is everything alright, Bride?” He asked while he got up and helped you down.

“Yes.”

You nodded, the herbal pouch hidden between your fingers. It felt exciting to have it there, hold it in your fingers, scary to go against what you had been taught since you were a little girl, mischievous, guilty, fun, safe.

You did not know exactly how to feel about it yet, but you did not let go either. Farah might not have turned you into an unsinkable boat, but she did give you an anchor.

“Hey, walking puddle!” Farah called out behind you from her house. It straightened up again as you reached the grass, acting like a proud pet imitating its keeper.

“I gave your problem a bit of thought and I think you yourself can solve it, oh mighty king of smelly bogs.” She declared. “Sacrifice something you hold dear. Give it to your bride. Coming from a being so tied to the waters should do the job better than any curse or wisdom I could come up with.”

“And what exactly should that sacrifice be?” König grumbled.

“How should I know what you care about?” Farah hit back as her house started to turn away and back to the forest. “Give her your favourite frog? Share an algae salad? But be nice. I like her well enough to return and teach you a lesson if you are not, fish head.”

“That’s it!” König called over to Baba Yaga and her chicken legged house. “You are not invited to the wedding. What kind of help is that? And will you stop it with the names?!”

Farah laughed. “Now I definitely will show up. You will repay me for my wisdom then and give my home a good bath. So long!”

And with her house having finally turned away from you, it started walking off into the forest under Königs loud protests.

Finally, he gave up and sighed.

“Well, at least we have a clue now. Even if it is a riddle.” He turned to you. “Are you sure you are alright? She is a dangerous woman.”

“I am,” You grinned. “We talked about the villagers. I told her everything.”

Königs concerned look turned into a grin as well.

“You are a dangerous woman too, dear Bride.” He nodded approvingly while he giggled. “She hates people who lie and they tell a lot of lies about you.”

“They sure do.”

“I don’t even want to imagine what she will do to them.”

“I do.”

König laughed and took you by the hand. Quickly you hid the pouch in the other behind your back.

“Good thing I am not planning on getting on your bad side, Bride.”

A strange kind of relief washed over you, taking away a tension you did not know you had held. Baba Yaga had given you as many fears as she had given you assurances.

A knife. A knife. A knife.

“Are you afraid I will tell Farah if you did?” You teased, stepping closer into his reach and decided to leave all worry behind you for now.

“No.” He paused, his watery eyes wandering over your form and you suddenly felt very aware that no one, not even the Fox or Heron, was around. Just you and your fiancé. And day time left to explore what that could mean.

“Alright, maybe. A little bit. She is terrifying,” König admitted, breaking the spell that had captured you.

You smiled and stepped away from him. “She is. Next time, please tell me who you invite over so I can brace myself. I like her but she is a force to be reckoned with. Can’t wait for the wedding to see her again.”

“Can’t wait for the wedding too, my beloved Bride.”

You paused, considering telling König about the pouch in your fingers and what that could mean for you - both of you - on your wedding night.

He probably does not even want me like that. I am no powerful being, no rusalka, no Baba Yaga with eyes that pierce everything. Just me. You thought to yourself. Why even give me the pouch when it will never be used? I was foolish enough for a day. No more of it.

“When will we marry, König?” you asked instead.

“When the palace is finished,” He replied. “Come. There is much to be done today. While you tell me what you need, we can think of what Baba Yaga had meant by sacrifice.”

“Good idea. But for today, a sacrifice of fish for lunch will do it for me.”

König chuckled.

“Of course, dear.”

XXX

Cultural Context Notes

Maybe this is a very personal observation but the relationships and friendships among eastern European women* or the dynamic between mothers and daughters is much more important and closer than it is in central Europe or the US. Correct me if I am wrong.

Another more personal observation: I am very cut off from my Russian roots basically since the annexation of Crimea and lost on how queer joy and life can look like ‘back home’. This bleeds into the text, reading very hetero. Since queerphobia is rampant in Russia where my family is from, I’m lost on how to depict eastern european/slavic queerness in my stories. I did not want to replace those gaps by just making a central european take on queerness so this is how it is. But I am a queer writer. And the lack of queerness in my story steeped in eastern european/slavic culture in itself feels like an accidental metaphor and I wish I could change that.

Many are somewhat familiar with Baba Yaga as a powerful evil witch since that is her most present depiction in international media post-Christianisation. But that simplifies her complex character. Some stories hint at her being a goddess of the earth or a similarly powerful being. Other stories describe her as one of three immortal sisters: the maid, the mother, and the crone in which Baba Yaga tends to be the crone. That too makes her an immensely powerful sorceress who reigns over death, life, and rebirth. Depicting her as just an evil witch in the western-European tradition clashes with stories about her being wise and helpful even if she is dangerous and unpredictable. And unlike many classical images of witches from more western parts of Europe Baba Yaga originally had no pointy hat, no black cat, or a broom to ride on. Instead, Baba Yaga appears to have no unusual dress from her peers. Nor does she have a side-kick except for maybe the woodhouse on chicken legs she lives in. And depending on the story Baba Yaga rides an oven, a large mortar, or just walks incredibly fast, which stresses that she is not an old hag in all her depictions but can be of different age and agility depending on the story. Baba Yaga is also associated with bones and death. In some stories she is the mother of the царь кощей / кощей Бессмертный - (Translation from russian) “undead king”/ “The one of bones and who can not die”. I decided to place Farah in the story as Baba Yaga because (I can and) Farah comes off as a reasonable wild card in the CoD franchise which is parallel enough to some Baba Yaga interpretations. Since the character Farah and the creation of a fake middle eastern country just to have that Orientalist theme in the CoD MW plot reads incredibly insensitive and racist to me, I’m making Farah the most powerful being in my story just out of spite. Also, Eastern Europe and Russia is not just Christians but has a lot of other religious influences too, the biggest one being Islam. Farah my beloved and everyone who identifies with her, this is for you. <3

Baba Yaga’s house in many tales is a wooden house on chicken legs that can walk wherever it wishes. To enter the house one needs to call out for it and ask it to turn around. There are several versions on what to say and I’m sure there are other variants in other languages. I used this one because I grew up with it: “Избушка, избушка, повернись ко мне передом, к лесу — задом” - translation from Russian: “Hut, dear hut. Please turn around towards me and with your back to the forest.” The added “Пожалуйста” is also Russian and means “Please”. I wanted to write this phrase in Old Church Slavonic but could not find the right words for it in the dictionaries so I had to stick with what I could execute, sorry. If there is a motivated linguist out there to research this, I’m absolutely willing to edit it and learn more about Old Church Slavonic or other fitting phrases. The origin of this house tale might come from the practice of building stilted houses in swampy regions. To keep the houses from rotting they were built on stilts, which got charred to avoid mould and rot. In some tales Baba Yaga is bound to the house and can not leave. In others she is not. Obviously, I understand staying in such a cool house forever anyway.

Is it possible to use herbs as contraception and abortion remedies? Likely. And there is historical evidence that several remedies had been used in the past to do so with differing success. HOWEVER! Do not try to replicate this at home. This is a fictional story and not medical advice. I know abortion and access to contraceptives are under attack in several parts of the world. It’s important to fight that and guarantee everyone dignity and bodily autonomy. But playing around with herbs you just googled or heard from a friend, is not the solution and can kill you. This part of the story is vague for a reason. 

Buckwheat grows in colder climates and on poor soils. It’s a staple food in many eastern European and central Asian regions. 

Rusalka (singular), rusalki (Plural) don’t have a good translations. In some sense they are mermaids but for inland water, since there are a handful of stories that describe them as having fish tales. But I think the best translation to give a picture of the rusalki is that they are more akin to nymphs like those from Greek myths. Rusalkis are female. In some regions they are supposed to look like old women, in others they are tall and stern looking. I grew up with the Russian tales of Rusalkis being pretty girls or women, playing in or around the water. They can be benevolent, especially to kids and women by helping out with washing clothes, playing or just friendly chatting. But they also can be a threat, predominantly for men whom they trick, drown and eat. It’s fascinating how gendered that image of the rusalka is, as if it fits the same entity but from two binary gendered points of view with the “female” one seeing the rusalka as a free spirit who does as she pleases, and the patriarchal “male” being threatened by that. The stories I know of the rusalka associate her with maidenhood or at least younger women, which ties to the idea that rusalkis are young women who committed suicide by drowning due to being pregnant out wedlock, dying before / around her wedding night or while giving birth. Essentially there is a lot of sexuality coded in the figure of the rusalka. If anyone knows or writes a queer take on it, please tag me. I need a break from those harsh binaries. Also, in some stories Rusalkis serve the Vodyanoy. I don’t really buy that and interpret it as a possible later addition to the fairy tale canon to depict the rusalka as subservient to at least one male master to be honest. Rusalkis are as governable as a storm. 

XXX

@thesinsoflust @kdkj122920 @die-prophetin @lillianastuff @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @fatedeniedhope @queensidillasworld @agspgrwasb @silelda @unlikepoltergeist @matcha-flavored-cake @blvkwondaland @diamondnightdreamer @brooklyn-1918 @thorns-x @icepancakes @sizzlingsaladpeach @peachymonsters @blackrockshooter780 @cl3rks @king-thunderstorm @hosshihusshi

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[doctoriletyougotogalaxy]

Deal

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

My OC blurb & my other Nikolai Lantsov fics on this OC & my other OCs

Cofton, Novyi Zem

I was sitting on my bed after a long but not very tiring day. By the afternoon sun shining through the window, I was trying to read a children's book in Zemeni that I had borrowed from the city library. It was a book that children would read just after they learned how to read. Actually I was hoping it would help me improve my Zemeni, but to be honest I was struggling a bit. If I would read Kuller grooming his horses a little bit more, I was pretty sure I would vomit.

When my door was knocked, I gratefully said, "Come in."

It was Nikolai, he closed the door behind him and sat on my bed, leaned against the wall and started staring at the ceiling. He didn't say anything, so I did.

"Seems like you've become interested in construction, are you examining the beams or something?" I asked.

"Eleanor asked me out," he blurted out.

"What?"

Eleanor was the niece of our  gunmaster. I was guessing she was around the same age as us. Her house was 15-minute walk away, and every afternoon she was bringing her uncle -and us- cookies, muffins, cold lemonades or at least fruits. They were really delicious and the only things that making the lunch break bearable. It wasn't hard to guess why she was striving for us every day. The reason was sitting right in front of me.

"Yes."

"I thought she already has a boyfriend," I said, frowning.

"Oh, really?"

"I saw her kissing a boy in a secluded corner at the marketplace last week."

"Oh, come on," he said, laughing.

"Looks like there is another fish at her hook," I said, pointing at him with my eyes.

He shook his head.

"Actually, the fish got away from the hook, what could he do, the fisherman was making too much noise."

"Hmm, what a pity, you two would make a lovely couple, she's quite nice."

She wasn't at all. She was very talkative and spoiled. She used to come to the workshop and pretend to be interested in guns by hanging around Nikolai. Even if she didn't constantly tell me to be more cheerful, more talkative, and go out more, and didn't treat me like I was five years old, I wouldn't like her.

"Is that so?" said Nikolai teasingly. "I shouldn't have rejected her offer then."

"She doesn't seem like someone who would give up easily, don't worry, she'll throw her rod again soon."

"Well," he straightened up. "I told her we are together. You better not eat the things she brings to lunch break anymore, unless you want to get poisoned, of course."

My mouth was wide open. "No... No, you little rotten herring, you didn't..."

"I thought you'd like it," he said, raising his eyebrows.

I couldn't help but laugh with enjoyment. "So what? Am I supposed to ask her for those chocolate cookies myself? Should I act all friendly towards her so she doesn't poison me? Well, in that case, you'll save half of what she brings you and give them to me at the evening," I said, trying to distract myself from the thoughts of dating Nikolai.

"Okay, deal," he said, extending his hand to shake.

I shook his hand.

"By the way, we need to be convincing. So, if you want to kiss me or do other things when she is around or not, don't hesitate." he said.

"Djel..." I sighed and rolled my eyes. But actually I was smiling and blushing, so I buried my face in the book to hide my face. Kuller ran the comb along Bonnie's neck. Bonnie neighed happily. "I have to read this, if you excuse."

"It seems like you're blushing," there was a pleasant tone in his voice.

"No."

"You're definitely blushing."

"Go see a healer."

"Okay then," he said, getting up. "If my treatment takes a long time and I have to stay in the clinic for a while, I want you to bring me some clean laundries. I would like a letter, too."

"I'm sure there will be many pretty patients and healers who would like to be your company."

"You are right, I know no one who can resist this handsomeness."  He took out two apples from his pockets.  The bright red apples made my mouth water.  He threw one at me.

"'An apple a day keeps the doctor away.'  they say." He slightly wiped his own apple with his jacket and bit it off.

"Have you wash them?"

I rolled my eyes as he shook his head.  "I am pretty sure that word was said for clean apples."

"My dear, I think you shouldn't be this much scrupulous."

"And I think you should be more scrupulous, how ironic."

He shruged, "Sorry, this is all I have. Take it or leave it."

"I am taking it but as a Fabricator I am pretty sure I can work on it. Wash this." I threw my apple back to him.

He sighed. "Yes ma'am."

Soooooo this is my very first fanfiction in English, it may be insipid and because of English being not my first language, there may be some grammar mistakes too. I would be so happy if you tell me what do you think!

[hualianff]

Fisherman HX

Fisherman HX who finds an injured creature tangled up in an abandoned net. Not only does HX recognize this creature as a merman, but also as the infamous sinker of numerous shady ships.

He decides to help this merman anyway, their wounds look quite severe.

HX: “how bad can he be-?”

HC: [weakly hisses and tries ripping HX’s hands off]

HX: “GAH”

Nevertheless, HC’s wounds are too many and too deep. And he can only defend himself so much while trapped in the net. Eventually, he lets HX pull him up into the boat. 

HX can’t believe he’s actually following through with this idiotic plan. He slowly unsheathes his trusty dagger, making sure the merman can see he means no bodily harm, just needs to begin cutting up the net. 

This merman can’t seem to understand HX’s words but still gives him the most judgmental looks. Especially when they’re back in HX’s cottage, the human attempting to apply ointment to the bleeding scratches on his back, and some gashes on his tail. 

However, the merman’s mobility seems to worsen over the next few hours. HX curses. There must have been poison involved. It would take him a couple days to properly identify it and concoct the appropriate cure. Because of the merman’s mild paralysis, HX literally has to tend to the merman’s whims. 

A week goes by. The two have established a somewhat friendly relationship. And as it turns out, HC can understand human tongue

HC: “you fuckin’ loser”

HX, getting whiplash: “exCUSE ME!?”

HX decides to bring HC on his next fishing trip. The merman’s condition has improved enough. Plus, if HC can communicate with him, he should be able to offer advice on how to catch more fish to sell in the next market. 

So here HX is, patiently waiting for the telling wiggling of his small nets below. HC is splayed out on the other end of the boat, chilling and ultimately making HX’s life harder.

It doesn’t get more exciting than this-

SPLASH!

A body shoots out of the water and yoinks HX overboard. The creature drags HX beneath the surface, constricting his limbs and going for his neck. 

A series of aggressive clicks echoes underwater. 

HX: [so this is how i die?]

One second, HX is being drowned by what is clearly another merman, the next moment he’s somehow back above the surface and gasping for air.

HC now insistently clicks at the other merman, who squawks then hisses as he brandishes HX’s limp body like a ragdoll. 

HX: “Whasss goin’ on?”

HC: “Shut up, don’t say anything.”

He chirps one last time to the other merman. 

***

HC beckons his mate closer, speaking in merman tongue. 

“Love, let the human go. He saved me.”

Floating next to the boat, XL bares his teeth, his expression one of disbelief. 

“Are you sure? I can still drown him if you want. He’s just a human,”  XL says, still half-strangling HX. 

Centuries ago, XL’s pod was brutally attacked by pirates. As an adventurous, young merman, XL had swam too close to the surface, consequently leading the pirates to his podmates. A few survived, but XL never forgets.

He will never let his vendetta against humans go.

Funny how things work out. 

While XL was born a merman, HC was turned by XL when they mated. This explains why HC knows human tongue and has a better understanding of human behavior. It also helps him sink even the most advanced ships.

XL and HC started off extremely hostile, HC a merchant who sailed the waters XL resided in. HC even has a scar from their first meeting, which he jokes that it’s a love bite or something. HC always wore tough clothing so XL’s jaws couldn’t pierce through. 

Feisty XL hadn’t hesitated to chomp HC multiple times.

Alas, the fates had plans for them. Over the course of five years, the merman and human fell deeply in love. HC had then offered his life for XL’s to have, and the decision to mate was made. 

The transformation process is a difficult one, and has a very low chance of survival. It involves dark ancient magic; a ritual consisting of feeding from human flesh for one week straight; then drowning until near death before being saved with a kiss from a merman.

When HC’s two legs took the form of a beautiful, massive, crimson and black tail, the pair had lovingly intertwined tails while wrapping their arms around each other. 

Many, many eras have come and went. XL taught HC the merman ways from how to swim at incredible speeds to how to avoid humans and the violence they bring. 

The mated pair have been together since, swimming beneath the ocean’s surface, inseparable. 

Now, XL has successfully stalked the human that took his mate. He doesn’t understand human tongue, and is prepared to slaughter this human and offer the flesh for HC to devour to recover. 

Fortunately, HC explains the situation, and HX’s life is spared. 

HC: “He’s honestly not that bad.”

XL: “...did you misbehave while you were with him?”

HC: “Not a single eating utensil left, water everywhere on his floors, and I managed to break his… he said teevee?”

XL, purring: “That’s my boy. ”

HX is still held in the feisty merman’s clutches. After a snickering string of clicks from the new merman, HX questions: “What is he saying?”

“Oh, he says thank you for helping me,” HC answers.

What XL actually said: “Why is his haircut so ugly?”

Soon enough, XL hoists himself up into HX’s boat. He deposits HX on the floor, then wiggles over to HC. 

“Missed you,” XL says, petting his mate’s hair. HC responds by nuzzling his forehead against XL’s. 

HX lays on his back, staring up at the sky. He now has two merman cuddling in his boat, and exactly zero fish have been caught.

“Why am I here?”

A few days later, XL approaches HX’s boat again and actually does offer human flesh for HC. HX gags and looks away as HC happily tears into the gory flesh.

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Andrew | Worlds Apart | Romantic

Dialogue prompt: “Enough people warned me about you.”

Requested: Yes

Andrew's past comes back to bite him.

“Who are you staring at?” 

Simon’s sudden voice behind him startles Andrew and he turns to his older brother with genuine offence in his eyes. Simon, however, seems to not pick up on this. 

“What?” 

“You’re staring at someone. There’s a whole group of women where you are looking right now and I want to know which one of them has caught your attention.” 

Andrew scoffs and rolls his eyes slightly, shaking his head. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m just… Curious to see if I’ll finally get a sister-in-law soon!” Simon roughly pats his back and chuckles, but Andrew doesn’t mirror the humour. 

Simon huffs and follows his sibling’s gaze. “Is it the girl in blue?”

“No.”

“The one with the red veil?”

The curly-haired man shakes his head. “Not her.”

“Then who?”

“The one with the (h/c) hair.”

The older fisherman finds the person Andrew is referring to in the crowd and lets out a sound. “Oh, no…” 

Andrew’s gaze snaps towards Simon, who has a pitiful look in his eyes. “What? What’s wrong with her? I think she’s beautiful. Frankly, I’ve admired her for a while now.”

Simon starts to frantically shake his head, putting an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Oh, no, no, darling brother. You want to steer clear from her. I implore you to choose anyone but her. You’ve got no idea who she is, do you?”

Swallowing thickly, Andrew admits to this. 

“Her name is (Y/n), daughter of Ephraim.” 

“As in… Rival fisherman Ephraim?” Andrew queries, and Simon nods, causing the heart of his younger sibling to drop into his gut. A strained huff leaves the curly-haired man. 

“Not good, An.” Simon presses, “Her brothers? Bad news for us, we’ve cheated them a few times.” 

Whilst pinching the bridge of his nose, Andrew lets out a grunt. “I can’t believe it! The girl I’ve been sweet on for months turns out to be the sister of a few of our greatest rivals within the industry…”

“And our brawling practises.” Simon adds, as if that would make things any better. Andrew groans and thinks for a long moment, letting his gaze drift back to you, where you are just having a laugh with a few of your friends. One of them hangs on the arm of your oldest brother, apparently betrothed to him, and you pat his shoulder proudly, appearing to have a close relationship with him. 

“It appears that they’re on friendly terms.” Andrew bitterly states. 

Humming, Simon narrows his eyes. “I’m sorry, little brother. I love you very much, so I wish I could take this heartbreak from you. I’m here for you if you need me.”

Simon turns to leave, but Andrew’s voice halts him in his step. “Her brothers don’t have to know.”

He pivots sharply and furrows his brow together into a frown. “What?”

“I can just get to know her for a bit… If she likes me enough, her brothers will come around eventually, right? If they’ve got her best interest in mind…” 

With his mouth ajar, Simon momentarily gawks at his brother, hands planted on his hips. “That’s a stupid idea,” he voices his opinion, “But if you insist, then I will support you. However, I cannot rescue you from three towers of steel if they decide to jump you one day.”

Andrew smiles slightly and straightens his back. “You don’t have to,” he says, “I… I’ll be fine, really. I just need to find a way to get close to her, and I’ll be fine! Right?”

Simon hums and rubs his chin. “I believe she is often at market to run a small business together with her eema. The rest of their family is often out on the water or occupied with their vessel so they handle the shop. Eden sometimes buys fish oil from them.”

“Ah, I can… I can use that information. Thank you.” Andrew quips. Still not fully convinced, Simon shrugs. 

“Do with it what you will. Good luck, Andrew. You’re going to need it.”

_ 

Simon had been right when he said you run a stand of oils and other fish-related products other than the actual fish themselves with your mother in the centre of Capernaum.

Andrew had been hanging around the business for a while, keeping his eye on you to find a good moment to walk up and speak to you. The smiles you give your customers are contagious, and every so often, a few fragments of your conversations carry over through the marketplace, where the fisherman becomes weak at the knees at just the sound of your voice, so bright and clear. 

He is certain that you aren’t like your brothers in regards to personality, for they are brute and dominate The Hammer every so often with their loud laughs and tall postures. Before Simon revealed it to him, he wouldn't ever have so much as connected you to them to begin with, for your entire demeanour is so different compared to them. 

After a particularly long rush where people purchased the goods you were selling with almost no time to breathe in between, you are washing your hands in a bowl of clear water that stands on the surface of your market stall, which is now almost empty safe from a few leftover products. Your mother is busy packing up your belongings when Andrew finally musters the courage to approach you at last. 

Up close, you’re even prettier. Andrew lets out a nervous breath before clearing his throat, which causes you to look up. 

“Shalom,” Andrew whispers. “I–I–Do you still have some… Fish oil?”

You smile at him. “Shalom,” you say, “I do, let me check in the back.” Just around the corner, your mother is stacking up some crates, and you rush towards her to assist her for a second before rummaging around a barrel for a few moments, the sound of small clay vials tapping against one another before you take out a brown container no larger than your palm. Andrew watches you as you work – you’re a woman who seems to know what she is doing, and he likes that about you – and quickly looks away when you return to him with his request. 

“Anything else?” Your voice is light and causes his gut to feel like mush. How could you not be married yet? How could it be that no man has approached your parents or brothers to ask for your hand? Andrew feels like popping the question right then and there, even though you barely know each other. For a second, he imagines what domestic life with you could be like.

“Sir?” 

He snaps out of his daydream and slightly shakes his head before blinking in confusion. “Huh?”

You let out a soft giggle. “Are you in need of anything else? I fear that we don’t have a lot left because the day is almost over, but whatever it is, I can check for you.” 

Andrew gulps and stutters: “Ah, n-no, that will be all.” 

You tell him the price and he pays for it, barely brave enough to brush his fingers against your hand as he drops in the coins. 

“Thank you for your purchase, sir. Come again!” 

“Have—Have a nice day, (Y/n)!”

You give him a surprised frown, but before you can ask about how he knows your name for you certainly do not remember telling him, he hurries away with flushed cheeks and a racing heart. Feeling your eyes drill into the back of his head, Andrew walks until he’s around the corner before pushing himself with his back against the wall, slightly out of breath, clutching the vial of oil against his chest. It’s slightly greasy on the outside and strongly smells.

He doesn’t even need fish oil. If anything, he could make it himself easily with a little practice. Still, he holds onto it, although it had been nothing but a professional transaction from your side. To Andrew, it is more than that. 

He peeks around the corner to see you finishing the process of packing up, and your tallest brother appears from the alleyway to assist you. Seeing the two of you with such a major height difference between you is almost comedic to look at, and Andrew feels his heart flutter at your beaming grin. 

He must seek you out tomorrow again – perhaps for some other fish-related products, like new nets, bobbers, anything,  just to see your face for a few minutes.

_ 

The Hammer is dank with the scent of drink and sweat. Tracing the edge of his cup with his index finger, Andrew eyes your brothers conversing with a few patrons, sharing games of chance and winning almost suspiciously often. 

Kadmil, Andrew suddenly remembers your oldest brother’s name, is not giving anything away on his position in the game. Whether he is on the winning or losing hand is not yet known. 

The tallest one, Dov, circles around their opponent, attempting to intimidate him, perhaps. Andrew isn’t necessarily certain what their tactic is, but he is getting an inkling of what it might be. 

The youngest of the three, Gavriel, taunts the poor sod who shrinks in his seat as he is being intimidated into giving up: “Come on. I think you’re doing pretty good here… Go all in, why don’t you?” 

The man’s hand trembles as he takes a drink from his cup. “I like my money, thank you very much.” All three of your brothers bark in laughter. 

Under the pressure, their opponent goes all in, shoving what little coins he has left to the centre of the table, and… Unsurprisingly, loses under haughty cackles of the three men. He stalks off and Andrew sighs, shaking his head in pity. 

“I’ll play you.” 

A voice that is way too familiar comes out above their laughter and Andrew feels his heart clench inside his chest. Simon strides up to them and tosses a small pouch of coins onto the table before sitting down in the chair where the recently defeated man had just been, giving all three of them a challenging look.

Looking him up and down like he is a twig to be snapped in half, Dov raises an eyebrow. “You’re Simon, aren’t you? Jonah’s son. You look like you could use your money better otherwise, but fine. Let’s play another round. Best out of three.”

Andrew leans forward in his seat to keep an eye on it without getting too involved, but it turns out that he has no choice when Simon speaks up: 

“No. Best out of five. And, if I win, my brother over there will get to have a proper meeting with your sister.” 

He nods towards Andrew, whose eyes widen. Three pairs of scrutinising eyes settle on him and he has to resist the urge to cower away under their judgement, giving them a small wave instead, that does not make him appear much tougher. Kadmil barks a laugh and takes a long drink, cracking a joint in his neck by moving his chin from side to side. “Do you really think we’ll let our darling sister be swept away by some fool? She’s got eyes in her head, you know.”

“Think she’s some piece of meat, huh?” Dov snaps. Andrew frantically shakes his head. 

“No–No, not at all! I just think she’s… She’s very beautiful and admirable.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Dov,” Gavriel calls through the room, “It’s not like this maggot is going to win anyway.” 

Dov seems to agree to this, for he grins. He’s missing a tooth. “That’s right.”

Narrowing his eyes at Simon, Kadmil smirks. “Fine. Tell you what. You go all in. If you win, your pathetic brother gets to meet our sister. Under supervision, of course. If we win… We take your brother’s money as well. How does that sound?”

Andrew wants to protest, but Simon has already accepted the deal before he can do so. 

“It’s been settled.”

Anxiously, he watches in horror as the game begins. The knucklebones roll over the table and he watches breathlessly how Simon wins the first round, which displeases Gavriel visibly. 

Andrew slips off his chair to head towards his brother and stand behind him to see that the game is fairly played. He will not let himself be cheated out of a possible chance to meet you somewhere else than under false pretences at your market stall.

“Back off, twig.” Dov puts a rough hand on Andrew’s shoulder, “You’re trying to cheat.”

“I am doing no such thing.” Andrew whimpers. 

“Then step back.” 

The fisherman does a step back lest he make them upset and nervously watches as Kadmil and Simon play another round. Your brother wins.

Another round is won by the three siblings, making the current score two against one. Both Andrew and Simon grow restless, Simon eyeing the bag of money that he had so confidently tossed onto the table earlier, wishing that he hadn’t made such a rash decision.

He narrows his eyes at Kadmil’s way of playing, then tilts his head as he observes it closely. Once he notices, his mouth falls open slightly.

Kadmil is using an additional knucklebone every other round.

“That’s against the rules–”

Dov’s fingers are tight on the muscle where neck and shoulder meet and Andrew flinches in discomfort. “What are you insinuating? Do you think we aren’t men of honour?”

Simon sharply turns to Andrew and gives him a reassuring look. “I’ve got it, An. Trust me. One second please, Dov. I’ve got to talk some sense into that man.”

Gavriel scoffs. “And that lot is interested in our dear sister. Fine, make it snappy.”

Simon rushes to his feet and brings his face close to his sibling’s to whisper into his ear: “Of course I have noticed that he’s using an additional knucklebone, but they aren’t expecting this…” He reaches into his pocket and shows Andrew two extra playing pieces, and smirks, as if he has already won and managed to fool the three burly men who are impatiently waiting for him to return. 

“Simon, no–”

“I’ve got this, Andrew! Have some more faith in me!”

“A lack of faith is not the issue here!”

Kadmil clears his throat. “Are we going to bicker or are we going to play?” 

Simon sits back down and invisibly slips the two extra bones onto the table. “My brother is just so eager to meet your sister that he is getting a bit nervous about my ability. He’s a good man, you know. Someone your sister would be honoured to marry, actually.” 

“We’ll be the judge of that. It’s your turn, by the way.” Gavriel tells him. 

Simon casts his throw, and it gets the score to be two against two, with one more round to play.

Kadmil lowly hums, inspecting the latest amount of points Simon has scored, and seems to do some addition in his head before dropping the small tablet the score is being kept on. 

“That’s impossible. You’re not able to get that amount of points in one throw.”

Simon shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just that good at this game that you’re not sure what to do right now and—”

“You guys are cheating!” Gavriel suddenly howls, pointing at the table. “You’ve got too many bones!”

“So do you!”

The legs of the chair scrape against the wooden floorboards as Kadmil stands, and it falls to the ground behind him with a loud crash. He points an accusing finger at Simon. “It was nothing but a test to see how your integrity would cause you to react to our behaviour! Instead of calling us out on it, although your little brother came very close to that, you decided to one-up us! A son of Jonah is no worthy addition to our family!”

Dov lets out a grunt and gathers the set of knucklebones into the pouch he keeps them in and sends Andrew a death-glare. “Forget it. We don’t want you even near our sister!”

“But–But I tried to stop the game and–” Andrew stutters, but is cut off.

“Not only was your father a heavy competitor to ours, it seems that he has raised two cowards as well!” Kadmil huffs. “Don’t even try it anymore.” 

Before Andrew can protest any further, the three of them make their way out of The Hammer with in their hands the money Simon had bet in the first place. 

“Bunch of cheaters,” Simon huffs, wrapping an arm around Andrew, who gives him a glare from the corner of his eye. He shrugs it off, not wanting to be touched by his older brother now. 

“Well, so are you. And me, too, apparently! Thanks a lot, Si. Now I’ll never get close to (Y/n).”

“Andrew, I was just trying to help. Plus, (Y/n) doesn’t have to know about this. If you have her fall in love with you without her brothers knowing, they might accept you once they see how much she loves you.”

With a roll of his eyes, Andrew crosses his arms. “You really think that will do anything?”

Simon nods. “You should try it.”

“Fine.” Andrew retorts, not fully convinced, but tries to give it a go.

_ 

It had been a few days since you had last seen the curly-haired fisherman that has been on your mind ever since meeting him a few weeks ago. His sparkling eyes make your heart flutter whenever you think about him and you wonder if he is a bachelor. The only thing you’re not familiar with yet is his name, but you have finally gathered the courage to ask him once he stops by again. 

You are confident that he is so much different from the kind of people your brothers hang around with after work down in The Hammer. The stranger seems way too kind to be part of that world. Your brothers had explained the other day that they had been cheated by a fisherman named Andrew, who had been very eager to meet you. Just the thought makes you shiver in discomfort and you’re glad you’ve already got your eye on someone else.

Right after assisting an older lady, your heart skips a beat upon catching a glimpse of him. He shyly makes his way over to your stall and you have to keep down your blush as well as your beaming smile. 

“Shalom, (Y/n),” he says, “The usual, please.”

“Shalom, sir. Of course.” 

You take the items he often buys from you and include a few extra wares to compliment his loyalty to the business, and nicely bind it together with a piece of string. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you, sir.” you start, causing the fisherman’s attention. “You’ve been here quite often. What is your name?”

Andrew smiles a little and flushes, letting his gaze fall down in slight embarrassment. 

“I don’t see how that is relevant to know.” he says, and something disappointed flashes behind your eyes, so he quickly adds: “That sounded more mean than I intended. I just mean… I know yours… If I tell you mine, would you like to go out with me someday?”

Your face lights up. “Really? I… I’d love to!”

He grins, a feeling of victory swelling within his chest that you’re looking forward to getting to know him better, too. 

However, it’s only short-lived. He is about to tell you his name when the words get stuck in his throat as Kadmil appears behind you, a curious look on his face. 

“Well, well, well… Who do we have here?”

You turn to your oldest brother and smile innocently at him. “I’ve been meeting this man at this market stand every so often, Kad. He seems very nice and he has just asked if he can get to know me better.”

Kadmil puts a hand on your back. “Sister, I think you should know who he is.”

You shake your head, frowning in confusion. “What?”

“Do you know his name?”

You give a negative answer. 

“Well, tell her.” Kadmil pressures Andrew, who would much rather be swallowed up into the ground right now and never return. 

“A-Andrew.” he stutters. 

The glimmer in your eyes falters. “Andrew… Son of Jonah? The fool who tried to cheat my brothers?”

Andrew closes his eyes and nods in embarrassment. “Yes.” he whispers, “I–I must add that it was my older brother Simon’s idea to–”

You slam the items he had purchased onto the surface of the market stall, causing him to startle. Once he opens his eyes again, he wishes that he had never gone to The Hammer that evening. “I don’t want to hear it!” you spit, “No, I will not go out with you! Enough people warned me about you, Andrew, son of Jonah! My brothers have told me everything!”

Kadmil almost invisibly smirks at the fisherman, and Andrew’s heart sinks inside his chest before it shatters into a million pieces. 

“But I didn’t want to—”

“Not a word!” The hurt on your face is genuine. You shove the purchased items his way with such disregard that he feels like sobbing. “Get out of my sight. I think it would be better for you to not come back here anymore. To even think that I was about to give you a chance, unbelievable!” 

As Kadmil wraps an arm around you, he casts a dangerous glance in Andrew’s direction. “Come on, let’s get you back home for a while to calm down. Gavriel will take over your shift.”

Burying your face in your hands, you allow your brother to guide you away, utterly sorrowful by this revelation. 

Andrew steps back, shaking his head slowly. “No— Please, (Y/n)!”

“Get out of here, fool.” Dov’s voice suddenly sounds loudly behind him, and the fisherman gasps at his proximity, jumping away out of fear. 

Embarrassed, Andrew rushes off, his chest burning whilst heavily breathing, inhaling and exhaling a chore as he walks up to Simon, who gives him a questioning look. 

“And?”

Andrew wants to yell at him. To shout and call him names. Instead, his bottom lip trembles, his vision blurring as he lets himself fall into his brother’s arms, who holds him close. 

Heartsick, Andrew sobs inside his shoulder, and Simon just embraces him, telling him he is sorry over and over again, asking for his forgiveness. All the fisherman can think of is you, the sound of your voice and the way your (h/c) hair peeks out from under your veil, and your sparkling, lively (e/c) eyes.

He doubts he will ever love anyone else ever again.

[taizi]

lit a fire with the love you left behind

@officiallyasl 2022 day 1; soulmates

read on ao3

x

Luffy remembers the day he learned what the colorful little marks on his arms meant. He remembers chasing his brothers down the mountain, all of them shrieking like the barmy gibbons in the trees, and he remembers how he thought his heart was going to burst from all his laughter.

They came rambling out of the woods like a friendly pack of feral dogs, and Makino smiled widely from where she stood waiting outside Dadan’s hut. She tried to come visit at least once a week, to make sure their clothes still fit and they were getting enough to eat and other boring grown-up stuff.

Luffy ran right to her, with a billion new things to tell her about since the last time. Sabo picked his way behind him a little more slowly. Ace reluctantly brought up the rear, and stayed well out of arms’ reach. He always watched her hands very closely when they came near Luffy, like he was waiting for them to stop being gentle.

On this particular day, Makino made a soft, gasping noise, and grabbed Luffy’s arm carefully. Ace didn’t like that. He surged a step closer, all bristly like the jungle cats would get when a meal or a nap was interrupted, and said, “What’s your problem?”

“When did this happen?” she asked softly, turning Luffy’s arm over so the underside was facing the sky.

She must have meant the funny little mark that Sabo gave him, since it was the only thing there. Luffy explained that he didn’t know when it showed up, but it was probably around the same time that Ace’s mark did. When Makino just stared at him, he offered his other arm up as well, pleased to show it off.

They weren’t very big but they were bright and they curled like little licking flames. They were a perfect mirror of each other, in the same place on both of Luffy’s arms. Ace’s was a warm red-orange color, and Sabo’s was cool blue.

He knew, really really deep down, where you just knew things, that they belonged to his brothers. And he knew that Sabo had the red-orange mark on his right arm, but the one on the left was bold, sunny yellow—and that was Luffy’s! Luffy gave that little smudge to him!

Ace guarded his colors jealously, even from Garp and Dadan. In the hot summer months when he went without sleeves, Ace would wrap his arms up before they went into the kingdom or even the Gray Terminal. If people got nosy about the wrappings on his arms, he beat them to a pulp.

He didn’t mind Luffy or Sabo seeing them, but they were the usual exceptions to his fits of temper anyway.

Makino seemed bewildered by them in a way she usually wasn’t. She sat back on her heels and studied Luffy like he was something brand new and strange.

“These are soulmarks,” she told him. “They’re very special.”

“Of course they are,” Luffy said plainly. “They’re mine.”

Later on, he would learn that there was a lot of fables and fisherman’s tales about soulmates. People talked like they were fantastical things, right up there with merpeople and dragons. Makino did her best, as flustered as she was, to explain what made them so important, but Luffy had more pressing things to think about!

It was just so sunny and windy and perfect outside, and Ace promised they could go down to their secret part of the beach until it got dark, and they had cake waiting back at the treehouse—a fancy layer cake that Sabo stole from somewhere, with honey and cream and bananas! Luffy was so excited for all of it that he could barely sit still.

Every day is magical when you’re a child. Every hour you spend with your best friends is special and important. The moment the universe decided that Sabo and Ace and Luffy belonged to each other came and went without ceremony, slipping right past them like those tiny quicksilver fish that lived in the fast part of the river, there and gone in the blink of an eye.

“How stupid,” Ace grumbled on the way back up Mt Colubo that night. His olive skin was blotchy from all the sun, and his hair was salty and starched, and the necklace Luffy made for him, with a length of twine and a pointy spiral shell, swung against his collarbones with every step. He was still prickly about what Makino had said, even hours later. “Grown-ups are dumb enough to believe anything.”

“But it’s nice to think about, isn’t it?” Sabo interjected. “Some big cosmic force declaring we belong together?”

“We already belonged together,” Ace said harshly. “I don’t need a bunch of stars to tell me who my family is. You’d be my brother even if you never left a dumb blue thumbprint on my arm.”

Sabo laughed. “Luffy, too?”

Luffy was nearly dead to the world by then, face pressed into the back of Sabo’s shoulder, arms looped around his neck. He tired out halfway up the mountain, and his brothers made a bunch of exasperated noises and called him names, but they picked him up and carried him anyway.

Even though the sun had gone down and the jungle loomed around them, dark and dangerous and wild, it never occurred to him to be afraid. He was still just awake enough to hear Ace scoff and mutter, “Yeah, I’m stuck with that little brat, too,” and it made him smile so big his cheeks hurt.

He kept smiling until the night-time noises and Sabo’s steady steps lulled him the rest of the way to sleep.  

##

Luffy’s philosophy is essentially just the kinder parts of his brothers’ conflicting ideals smushed into one; he doesn’t need the stars telling him what to do, but it’s nice of them to think of him.

When he leaves Dawn Island, he has a red-orange mark on one arm, and an ash-gray mark on the other. Sabo’s color faded the day he died. Luffy misses it more than everything else he left behind put together—the treehouse, Makino’s bar, the funny gibbons he grew up with, everything. It’s strange that it’s been gray longer than it had a chance to be blue.

It hurts to look at sometimes, but only sometimes. Luffy isn’t a baby anymore. He wears the gray as proudly as he wears the orange, unflinching and unashamed, no matter how many sad or strange looks strangers may give him when they see.

Meeting Zoro is like meeting another part of himself that’s been wandering around a different part of the world this whole time. They understand each other, and they both have big, amazing dreams that other people call impossible, and they both have a soulmate who died.

When it’s just the two of them, in the dark of Merry’s belly with nakama snoring on all sides, or sprawled across on the sunny deck while everyone else is still in the galley, Zoro will talk about her sometimes. She was the person he wanted to beat, and the person he wanted to be, and one day he woke up and she just wasn’t in the world anymore. A hole was carved into his future and he had to learn to live around it.

Sanji leaves his soulmate on the Baratie, sailing away from his gruff adoptive father to chase All Blue. Miss Wednesday becomes Princess Vivi and when Nami shakes the life out of her for revealing the dangerous true identity of her ‘boss,’ color bursts onto both of their hands. Usopp hasn’t found his yet soulmate. Chopper doesn’t think he’ll ever get one, because animals don’t.

They meet Ace in Alabasta, and he’s a Devil’s Fruit user. He lights up, a tower of flame, and it makes Luffy bounce with every step, giddy and delighted—of course it’s fire. Sometimes the universe gets it right, after all.

His friends are excited to meet his big brother, and an order of magnitude more excited to meet his soulmate. The girls coo over the matching orange and yellow coils, and Chopper and Usopp demand the Story of When They Found Each Other, shrieking with dismay when Luffy and Ace both admit they really don’t remember the details. Everyone is very carefully not looking at the matching smoke-gray marks on their opposite arms.

Luffy doesn’t know why they do that. It’s not as though it’s a secret. It’s Sabo.

Before Ace leaves, he gives him a folded-up piece of paper, and says it will bring them together again. Luffy thinks his brother has been getting silly ideas from that crew he’s sailing with. They don’t need some paper telling them how to find each other anymore than they needed stars to do that. But he keeps it anyway, because he keeps everything his brothers give to him.

Robin and Franky leave color on each other’s hands in the middle of all the chaos on Enies Lobby. It’s easier to convince Franky to join them when Robin is smiling at him from the deck of his beautiful ship, the very soft and happy way she only recently learned how to smile.

Brook had three soulmarks before all of his skin fell off his bones. They were gray by the time I died, anyway, he’ll say, and then he’ll cackle, and it’ll sound insane.

Sometimes the universe gets it wrong.

##

The bandages on Luffy’s arms don’t come off right away. Even after the raw, angry wound on his chest no longer needs dressing, his arms remain covered. When Traffy changes them out, he makes Luffy look right at his face and nowhere else.

“I’ll remove your head from your body and let Shachi and Penguin play volleyball with it if you even think about moving,” he says shortly. He sounds like he means it. There’s a smudge of gray on one side of his forehead that’s shaped like a heart. The brim of his hat usually hides it, but he took his hat off for some reason, and now Luffy can see it.

Luffy looks at that faded gray heart and doesn’t look down at his arms until they’re wrapped again.

It’s not forever. Soon he’ll be able to look at Ace’s soulmark and it won’t feel like dying in Impel Down all over again. Soon he’ll be able to stomach the gray where his warm red-orange should be.

He remembers being seven years old, almost eight, and how it felt like the entire world was ending when they told him Sabo was dead. How he cried and cried like he’d never be able to stop. It took Ace making him an impossible promise, scolding and cajoling him in equal parts, to get him on his feet again.

Luffy’s not a baby anymore, and he’s fresh out of brothers to help him now, but he remembers what to do. You have to let it hurt while it hurts. You have to let it press you all the way down, right into the ground, because that’s how big it is, and there’s no way around that. And then the second you can stand up, you stand up. And the second you can take a step, you do that next. And that’s the rest of your life for the rest of your life.

He can do this. He’s done it before.

But when the bandages come off, there’s gray, and gray—and a splash of pure gold.

##

It’s a silly, swooping shape, playful and whimsical, and it looks like something different to every single one of them.

Franky thinks it looks like the sharp curve of a cant hook. Chopper giddily argues that it’s a banana, constantly patting the base of one of his antlers where the mark is visible through the velvety fuzz, as if to make sure it hasn’t run off. Sanji pointedly bakes buttery, flaky croissants to make his case.

Robin reads half a dozen books on semiotics and mythology. Usopp, as flushed and pleased as Chopper is about this development, makes up just as many legends of his own.

Even Brook bears the mark, right on his bone. He doesn’t seem to know how he feels about it, crying and laughing at the same time as he traces it with the tip of a phalange. He describes, to anyone who will listen, a traditional folk instrument he once played, a horn that looped almost into a perfect circle.

Nami is adamant that it’s a crescent moon, or a sun in partial eclipse. Zoro figures it out before any of the rest of them do. (It’s a smile.)

Luffy doesn’t care what the shape of it is. He loves it.

He loves that his friends love it, too. They each wear it in different places on their arms or shoulders or backs or legs, and they're stupidly pleased to wear it. And it doesn’t make any sense, and Robin has never heard of anything like this happening before. And it breaks all the rules of all those old fishermen’s tales that Makino used to tell him, when she’d use words like predetermined and destiny. And it’s the best thing in the whole world.

He carries his crew’s mark as proudly as he carries his brothers’.

Ace was right. Sabo was right. Luffy doesn’t need any old universe to tell him who he belongs to, but it’s nice to know someone’s been paying attention.

##

Someday, Luffy will meet a stranger in Dressrosa, and one of those phantom fires on his arms will erupt into painfully familiar blue, and a part of him he thought was dead will burn to brilliant life again.

[ask-de-writer]

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THE FISHERMAN'S LEG (Part 1 of 20)

A sequel to Dee 1/2 Demon

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

6373 words (work in progress)

© 2023 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Blog holding members of Tumblr.com may freely reblog this story provided that the title, author and copyright information remain intact, unaltered, and are displayed at the head of the story.

Fan art, stories, music, cosplay and other fan activity is actively encouraged.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Patsu came back from trying to buy the young ladies of the Shop of Repairs some lunch. Dee looked up from the careful hammering of the work piece on her anvil. “Eggs and vegetables, Patsu san? What of the prawns that we wanted?”

Patsu sighed, “I got us a pair of chicken leg quarters too. As for seafood,” she shook her head, “Minami san was not in the fish market. While I waited, four other customers came, waited and left.

“As I was leaving, he came running up from trespassing your Chiasu Estate property, Dee. You know, where we have workers rebuilding the old boat house that was torn down so many years ago. He accused me of trespassing in his open shop!

“I pointed out that he was the one doing trespassing on OUR property and that I'd been waiting to buy some nice prawns!

“He blew up at me and said that he would never sell us or our mothers any sort of seafood at all, now or ever!”

Miko looked up from the calligraphy that she was writing and laid aside her brush. “That is an unfair business practice, Patsu san. By the laws that let him have the only fish market in the village, he must serve all who come and have the money to buy, unless they are being disorderly.”

As she was jointing and cutting up the chicken to add to the chopped vegetables already in the pot, Patsu observed, “He really does not seem to care about the law anymore. Ever since he came back from the war that captured the whole island of Corutsu for Lord Umayu, he has been a different man. Sometimes I wish that we had not healed him of his gangrenous leg wound.”

Dee took the pot with their lunch and focussed her Aspect of Fire on it, drawing on the heat of the forge's fire, it began to steam and smell pretty good. Satsuna, who was the best cook among them, took over with seasoning things. Soy sauce, honey, a touch of vinegar and some crushed cloves of garlic all went in and were stirred carefully.

With a bow, she gave the pot back to Dee. “Thicken it please, Dee san.” Smiling, Dee raised the delicate seeming inner eyelids over her golden vertically slit pupiled eyes and focused her Aspect of Fire on it once more. Lovely scented steam arose as their lunch thickened from a thin soup to a smooth sauce with the chicken, and vegetables in it.

Looking up the street, Patsu set up another bowl of rice topped with the fresh sweet and sour chicken and vegetables. At the glances from the others, Patsu pointed with her chop sticks.

“Sunma san is coming and Chansa is following her, like usual!”

“Healing Chansa's broken leg a few years ago was a fine thing that we did.” Satsuna smiled at the memory of helping another orphan to keep her “smallest herd of goat in Sabo.”

Sunma happily bounced into the Shop of Repairs, followed by her goat! Chansa looked about eagerly because when her mistress brought her to this shop, there was always a tasty treat for a hungry goat! And goats are always hungry.

Dee watched happily as Patsu got up and brought in an armful of freshly picked, bright green kudzu leaves, a favorite of Chansa's.

The goat, seeing Patsu for the first time that day, promptly reared up, head over sideways and did a leaning lunge of a head butt at Patsu! Patsu countered that by a friendly fist between the horns, only hard enough to stop the butt.

She commented, “Still remember smelling me all over those bandages and leg splints from when we fixed your leg, huh, Chansa san? Here. Fresh kudzu for you.”

Their greeting ritual done, Chansa took a few leaves from Patsu's hand and started to happily graze up the rest. Miko offered, “We seem to have served up an extra bowl of lunch, Sunma san. Will you join us?”

Dee quietly poured another cup of tea. Sunma was just kneeling to her place at the table when a large hand was laid heavily on the neck of her stout working shift! Fisherman Minami roughly dragged her back from the table!

As he did so, he snarled, “This is a shop! A place of business! Take your vile goat and go!”

Two things happened at once! Chansa, seeing her mistress so mistreated, charged! She hit the backs of his knees with a head down, full power butt! His legs were folding as Patsu's foot hit his mid section in a forceful cross footed kick!

As her knee lifted from the kick, Patsu slammed the back of his head with a two handed rabbit punch! That bounced his forehead solidly onto her upraised knee! He folded to the ground, unconscious.

Patsu leaned out the wide door of the Shop of Repairs and called out, “Constable! Constable!”

As Constable Canra came in, she explained, “Fisherman Minami has broken Magistrate Lim's order to not interfere with our business, trespassing both our shop and the Chiasu Estate where we are having the old boat house rebuilt. In addition, he has laid violent hands on Sunma san, trying to order her and her goat Chansa to leave. Both are invited guests and are here to share lunch and tea with us.”

While she was talking, a large, almost squarely built man entered and offered Dee a torn open package. Satsuna saw it and exclaimed, “Chalk!? Did it get into the mortar?”

He bowed to her and replied, “Sadly it did. We were having our noon rice over in the shade of the Newly rebuilt warehouse,” he stirred the fallen Minami with his foot as he went on, “and so this unworthy one did not see us. He opened this package and stirred it into the dry mortar that we were ready to mix, ruining it. We wished to know whether we should test the rest of our work to see if he has done this before.”

It was Constable Canra who answered, “Please do so. Besides your testimony about this incident, should any of your prior work prove to have been damaged, come to the Tribunal and report to Magistrate Lim all that you know of this.”

Miko bowed to the Constable and told him, “Canra san, as soon as I am done with my luncheon, I shall be up to the Tribunal to record this case for Magistrate Lim.”

Constable Canra looked up from binding the arms of Fisherman Minami and gave her a head duck of a bow as he mentioned, “Please bring Sunma san and Chansa to the Tribunal with you.”

He straightened up. Leaning on his ceremonial but very functional naginata he hauled Fisherman Minami to his feet and dragged him away.

To be Continued

NEXT==>

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[interxstitial]

continued from . . . here!

despite all of the teasing that transpires, seunggi continuously finds himself floored by julien's games. it's equal parts terrifying and intriguing, the way his counterpart seems to know exactly what to say to get seunggi's attention. he can see it in his eyes sometimes; something similar to a fisherman hooking his line with something special, for that one fish he's been eyeing in the hopes of devouring. and despite knowing damn well that he's the prey in such an analogy, seunggi can't quite bring himself to care. not when julien's lashes alone seem to steal seunggi's breath away, and not when his heartbeat's started to echo the same tempo as julien's laugh—— especially not when julien throws him a bone like that, so generous and taunting that seunggi stills right before the studio's door. and he's so obviously been affected, his cheeks pink with embarrassment and his eyes wide in surprise. but if there's one thing about na seunggi, he will always try to look as though he can tell where things are headed. (even when that's never been the case with julien.) "is that an invitation?" he bites onto julien's hook, flounders on the line as a hand lifts to rest against the door's frame while he looks down at the other, head tilting in amusement. and yet, there's still no hiding the trance in his gaze. "or are you just being polite?" julien's never just polite; seunggi knows this well. he'd just rather get reeled in a little more before he commits to getting gutted and flamed. // @idleds

seunggi calls it an invitation, and julien chooses not to stifle the chime of laughter that escapes him. his head remains tilted at just the right angle, gaze as curious as it is unwavering. the novel in his lap goes forgotten as julien shifts his attention to this new form of entertainment. surely seunggi could have asked anyone else in his wide social circle for this little favour, but he came to julien. even that bit of information has an inkling of satisfaction tugging at the corners of his lips. honestly it's a bit flattering, even if he sort of expected it.

"i wouldn't say it's an invitation so much as a friendly gesture. a little 'i'm here for you,' if you ever need a friend." he giggles again, brushing off imaginary dust from his novel before delicately tucking it into a dedicated pocket of his bag. "in any case i'm always polite, so that seems like a silly question." —then, as an after-thought, he adds: "and since i am so polite, i won't take that as an insult."

for just a brief moment, julien glances up at seunggi with a glint of playful mischief in his eyes. like a pampered house cat teasing the neighbour's tabby through the garden window. those predator instincts never truly disappear, no matter how meticulous the breeding. curious to see the other's response, julien keeps his gaze off seunggi while retrieving a pair of lollipops from an inconspicuous pocket of his bag. as carefully as if he were peeling an eggshell, julien tugs the plastic wrap off the cherry-flavoured one, tucks the sweet halfway between his lips, then looks back to seunggi while offering him its watermelon-flavoured partner.

[meili-sheep]

Since it's May, how about merman diluc

You are absolutely right.

And mermaid Diluc is much like young Diluc. Energetic, a lot chaotic, and well, and a little on the shy side, is always welcoming and friendly to anyone in trouble. And well, he's saved more than his fair share of fishermen; he also loves chasing away their catches. People don't know that he lives in their waters, but there is s rumor that if you give the sea an offer before you fish, you'll end up with good catches. His brother and father have the hardest time keeping Diluc in the depths.

Now you might be like... So Kai, what's your ship for this. WELL, I GOT 2 DIFFERENT FLAVORS FOR YOU.

Flavor one. Albeluc. Albedo is a researcher looking into the rumors in his cove and ends up finding an excellent painting spot. And while he's painting, he catches Diluc jumping from the water. And now Albedos look for Diluc wanting to paint him.

Flavor two. Chiluc. Childe is a causal fisherman who is new to the area and can't catch anything. One of the other tells him to give the see an offering. Childe doesn't really believe it and just offers like a stick or something, which instantly gets thrown back at his head. And he catches a glimpse of red hair and a smirking smile before swimming off. And now Childe is trying to catch the creature that keeps chasing away his catches.

[princessmadafu]

Happy Birthday, Jonathan!

Actually it's his estimated 190th birthday on 4th Dec but I thought I'd post this early as some light relief since we're all suffering from the nasty virus that is Long Markle:

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2022/dec/02/worlds-oldest-recorded-tortoise-prepares-for-190th-birthday-party

While staying up late for Dave Thorpe's StrictlySpoiler (big fan of Strictly though I don't vote as it's not my country!), I spent my time looking up what life was like in 1832. Facts and figures from Cutler's History of English Agriculture, various historical websites and money-conversion places; any calculation errors are mine, as they say.

Historical Money Note: four farthings to one penny (d); twelve pennies to one shilling (s); twenty shillings to one pound (l).

In 1832, the average rural labourer would have earned between 10 and 15s a week, depending on his skills. If he had a working wife, she'd have earned about half that, and if he was lucky he'd have a working-age child or two who might contribute another 10s a week between them, so we're looking at an average rural family (say two adults, plus four or five children) with an income of approx 25 to 30s.

That's £1.50 a week in modern sterling.

What would your £1.50 a week have bought you?

Well your weekly rent would have been about 2s. You'd spend 6s a week on bread, and another 6s for your weekly milk, cheese, butter and tea. You'd be growing your own vegetables and potatoes, and you'd probably spend about 2s 6d a week on a pound or two of bacon or sausage or offal. You wouldn't be eating steak or pork chops - they were just for rich people. You'd only be eating fish if you caught it yourself (on the sly when the landowner wasn't around) or if you lived by the coast with access to a friendly fisherman to sell you herrings and shellfish. Remember that transport was still basic in 1832, so people who lived inland wouldn't have access to fresh sea produce.

If you were daring, you could supplement your meat rations by snaring rabbits or pigeons, or otherwise poaching game, though you risked a severe fine or gaol if you were caught. If you were lucky you'd have a few hens to lay eggs for you (initial outlay: price of laying hens, about 1s each), or you'd have to buy eggs at about 8-10d per dozen.

You'd probably have ale at about one or two farthings a pint. A lot of workers would spend their evenings at the local tavern because candles and firewood or coal would have cost you 2s a week - beer was cheaper, and your children were probably all huddled up warm and cosy together in one bed anyway, so why bother heating the home?

Don't forget that you'd have to save a few pennies a week towards clothes, boots and tools; oh and soap and household stuff. And as you also earned less in winter (farming being seasonal) you'd benefit from having a careful wife who'd squirrel away your spare summer money for the hard months, and not mind being beaten up for not giving you any more beer money. A very careful wife might even save enough to buy a piglet (very expensive, probably around 10s) to fatten up on kitchen scraps, or maybe something special for Christmas dinner.

You wouldn't be able to afford a doctor if you were ill, by the way, so she'd have to have an emergency 6d or so for the apothecary. And then there's long-term injury or illness to think about, and old age, and the ever-present threat of poverty and the workhouse. Not that you'd live that long anyway, as the average life expectancy of an English farm labourer in 1832 was about 40.

Easy to complain about today's inflation, but we still have it better than 1832.

And, no spoilers but I'm sad for the person who was voted off Strictly tonight, I was hoping they'd get rid of the other one who I find a bit annoying.

[randomffiction]

Story Chapter #1 🌊 By His Fingertips

Congratulations! Looks like Christmas came early this year :) ✨ I decide to post this fic both in Tumblr and AO3 ! So please choose which one you would like to read it on, thank you for staying with me <3

Master Links | Chapter Selection | AO3 Link

Summary : What happens if an old God suddenly take interest in a priest from a nearby fishing village?

[ Eki is getting too handsy on a specific human and it's causing chaos wherever he goes ]

Chapter 1 : Beginnings

The gentle wave sweep the beach. Bringing the sand new critters to live in every nook and cranny.

Far away from the sandy beach, away from the little village living off of the sea, far beyond the deep blue, a creature look at them in awe and curiosity.

From it's point of view, it could see a well built man dressed neatly from head to toe. Black silk hugged his form as a silver necklace hang around his throat.

"How interesting," it mused, "It would not hurt to pay them a visit." And so it retreats back into the deep ocean blue.

------------------

The docks creak as a traveler put his feet down on the old wood. He made his way through, taking casual steps towards a village living off of the sea. He could notice children playing with the sand and fisherman coming back from the sea with fish and kelp. It's a lively little place, perfect for the traveler.

He made his way to a building much bigger than the rest, stained glass decorate it's windows and greenery surround the supporting pillars. Taking a peek from one of the window, he notice a man dressed in black inside.

The man is well built, the silk hugging his form not helping him. But instead highlights his muscle and form. Guessing from the position he's doing right now, it seems the man in black is a preacher of sort.

Letting curiosity lead the way, the traveler knock on the twin wooden door before giving it a gentle push. The door open slowly, revealing the man on his knees just in front of the altar.

"Hello?" His voice echo through the room as he take a step inside. "Sorry was I bothering you?"

The man that was on his knees stands up, his height fully towering the traveler. The black silk hug his wide shoulder, highlighting every form and muscle. He turn around and greets the traveler.

Confusion clearly written on his face but he tries his best to be friendly to the traveler. "No worries. But it looks like you're not from here, are you a traveler perhaps?"

The preacher eyes the traveler up and down. Long white coat over the smaller figure body with red undershirt alongside bright yellow ropes. Just by the waist is a small bag with a book attached. He notice the traveler's bright yellow eyes and the red highlights on the tip of his hair. A strange look for sure but not surprising.

"Yes I am, I've stumbled upon your village and thought I could come and rest here." The traveler answer simply, looking back to the preacher's eyes.

"Well you must be tired from your journey, please sit down and let me get you something to eat and drink." The preacher urge the traveler to sit down on the front pews. He give the traveler a smile before heading off to fetch the food.

The traveler follow where the man had dissapeared, an indescribable look on his face as he take every single detail of the man and commit to memory.

Eventually the man came back with a plate of sliced apples and a glass of water. Without the seat in the front pew obstructing his way, the preacher bends over and put the plate right next to the traveler.

The traveler smiles back at the preacher, both as a thank you for the meal and a very good view of the man's rear.

"I'm so sorry I haven't introduce myself," he rest his arms on the area where you would clasp your hand together, giving the traveler a sweet smile. "People around here call me MC, nice to meet you."

The traveler nod, "MC? Is that an abbreviation for something?"

The man laugh, his chest rising with joy. "You better ask the others for that, so what is your name traveler?"

The traveler look at MC in the eyes, those yellow eyes piercing into the man's soul. He swears he could see a faint flicker of light in the traveler's eyes.

"Oh please, just call me Eki."

MC smiles, his smile lines showing on his face. He leans closer to the traveler before speaking.

"What a unique name, Eki. Though you did say you're a traveler right? You must be tired from your journey."

MC looks at Eki with a gentle fond and a slight worry, it amuses the traveler but he replied with a simple yes.

"Oh well then please feel free to rest in our village. It's not uncommon for those from the seas taking a rest in here."

He motion to a hallway which Eki presume will lead to guest room that MC would offer to passing traveler.

"Though, if you want to you can always stay elsewhere. I can help you ask around-"

"No need preacher, I think I much prefer staying for the night. Especially knowing this place is guarded by someone like you." Eki tilt his head slightly, putting emphasis on his final words. That alone seems to caught other man off guard.

MC chuckle, giving Eki the sweet smile he's always wearing on his face. "Why that's a sweet compliment, thank you. But back to the matter at hand, on your right will be a halfway that lead multiple empty rooms."

His hands motion to the hallway again, "You can pick any room you like. And don't worry they're clean, I personally tidy them myself."

His hand went back to the arm rest. "And if you need me I'll be on the other hallway. Just knock on the first door you see and I'll be with you right away."

Eki follow to the left hallway, where MC would presumably be there to help him. He cant help but wonder if the man truly live in this holy building.

"I can see your curiosity, yes I live here. So please don't be afraid to ask me for anything."

Eki hummed, nodding along to the man's explanation. "Thank you, I'll keep that in mind." He eyes the man Infront of him one last time before continuing, "I'll stay here for a moment, after that I'll check the rooms you've graciously provide for me."

MC twinkle just from Eki's short comment. Saying to the traveler that he'll lay his head down first and bid him farewell. Eki is alone in the quiet main room of the church.

The candle flickering slightly as if they notice something is a miss.

Eki sees as MC dissapeared into a corner, presumably to his own private chamber to rest for the night. And though Eki would love to rest now, he have other things to deal with.

"Oh preacher," he says to himself as he look up to the altar, "I admire your loyalty and kindness." A strong breeze manage to slip inside and blow out one of the candles flickering on the altar. The room feeling slightly colder than before.

"Your naivety, it's amusing. I hope you rest well tonight." He stands up, the clicks of his heels echoing through the walls as he make his way to his own private room.

"Truly, it would be a shame if someone like you didn't get their shut eye."

------------------

The wave gently sweep the beach, creating beautiful sound that's iconic to the seaside. Though the view is pretty today and the sounds are in harmony, a quiet wind blew through the village.

As Eki emerge from his private room and into the main hall of the church, he could see MC sitting on the stairs that lead to the altar, his hands on his face. He let himself known by the clacks of his heels, MC noticing the approaching man and pull his hands down.

"May I sit?" Eki ask gently, not wanting to upset the man more than he already is. "Yes, I'm sorry you have to see me in such a state." Eki sits down next to him and gently pet the other's shoulder, rubbing soothing circles. "It's just, the doctor.. he dissapeared. We've been looking everywhere for him."

MC stops his talk after he realize he's venting his problem to a stranger. "Oh I'm, sorry I shouldn't have burden you with that it's just–"

"It's alright," Eki stops him midway, "if it makes you feel better please, continue. I'm all ears." That alone had cheered up the preacher, and with that he continues with his worries.

He let out a sigh before continuing, his hand crossing on his chest. "This morning, he just dissapeared. No one know where he went. No boats were missing and theres no trails that lead deeper into the forest." MC burrows his eyebrows, confusion clearly on his face. "I'm just.. what would happen to those who are sick? What would happen to the village?"

Eki let MC pour it all out until he have no more words to speak, only a defeated sigh and a frustrated groan is left. "I'm sorry.. you're a traveler, I shouldn't burden you with problems from a stranger." He look up to Eki, as if asking for forgiveness.

Eki only shook his head, rubbing more soothing circle to the man's shoulder in hopes of easing him. "Please, dont apologize. Its normal to get worried." He give the preacher a gentle smile before continuing, "if it ease your worries, I know a thing or two about treating those who are sick." MC practically beam at those words, his attention fully on Eki.

Eki could only giggle at the other's behavior, "I can help you treat those who are sick, if that's alright with you." His smile shined once more, putting a gentle warmth to MC. "Well that's alright of course! But aren't you a traveler? Don't you need to go elsewhere?"

"You have a point yes," Eki stops his movement, now focusing on MC, "but I have no plans on leaving this place so soon. You've accepted me, bought me food and shelter me. The least I could do is help you."

"Thank you so much Eki. I don't know how I could repay you." MC look at Eki like a puppy hiding from the rain, his thoughts clearly clouded with ways he could repay the traveler but none came to his mind. Eki smiles again, continuing his motion on the other's shoulder, "Please it's alright. If it makes you happier I consider my rest here as your payment."

It feels like Eki is accompanied by a big yet kind hearted puppy. MC smiles sweetly before urging Eki to follow him outside.

"I'll tell the others about you, please join me" he beam as he take Eki by the hand and open the twin wooden door.

Apparently a small crowd have gathered ever since the news of the doctor spread. A few of them are those who are sick, the rest are their family member and concerned villagers.

"Priest have you thought of a plan?" one of them question while holding their own child, their face pale from the sickness they're experiencing. "Everyone please don't worry," he ask them to quiet down and motion to Eki, ushering him to come forward, "for now this kind traveler will help us as a temporary doctor until we can find the one who went missing."

Eki give them a sweet smile before slightly bowing his head down to the crowd. "Pleased to meet you all, come I'll treat you to the best of my ability."

MC had prepared a makeshift medical room within the Church's walls. Complete with beds and basic medicine for Eki to treat and use for the people in the village. While the men search the doctor's house and into the surrounding area, to the sea and to the forest.

The few who's sick and injured are immediately brought inside. One by one Eki check them, from head to toe. Giving them the appropriate medicine for them to take. For those who's injury are harder to heal, he ask for MC to fetch him kelp and seawater.

"Why do you need these?" MC ask as he enter the room carrying a small bottle of seawater with kelp floating inside. He give it to Eki and he immediately opened it, pouring a good amount into a towel and pressing it into the wound of a villager.

"The sea is always giving," he apply a bit of pressure to the wound, prompting the villager to wince, "it is filled with gifts." He talk to the villager for a while before giving them normal medicine to take.

"MC can you please help them to their house? Make sure they rest in their bed and not take the towel off until tonight?" Eki looked at him, all the while disinfecting his head with water and alcohol.

"Of course! Come now I'll pick you up." He scoop up the injured person and walk out of the church.

Eki watch as the priest dissapear around the corner. He could hear chattering amongst the villager.

"That new person, Eki right? He's such a good doctor." One man said, a woman following suit.

"I had the worst headache of my life yesterday, so he gave me a small pill to drink. The moment I get out of the church, the headache disappeared!"

"He's a good traveler and doctor. I'm glad he's here."

Eki smiles hearing all those praises coming from them. He's only been here as a doctor for a single day and everyone is applauding his good deeds. The view of MC beyond the windows stops his train of thoughts. His attention immediately shifting to the priest.

Like a predator stalking its prey, Eki watch the man from afar.

[charleecat-bat]

Big.

Big is in a huge chunk of my AU's as he is one of my favourites

College AU- He's a terribly shy student who is quiet most of the time due to his shyness and social anxiety; talking is hard for him. He's very passionate about fish and marine biology, and that's his major. He lives with his protective and slightly grumpy uncle Huge, who works long hours at the docks. This AU is very slice of life, and nothing insane happens like they usually would in Sonic's world. He was always a bit quiet but his borderline social anxiety was a result to Big being bullied for most of his school years in the AU. He even carries around a little Frog plushie in his pocket to try and soothe his anxiety that he treasures dearly. It takes him a while to come out of his shell but he does eventually. <3

Gem/SU AU- In this AU, he's a Red Cap Amethyst. He's known by Homeworld as an Auralite 23, which is a very rare gem that is called such due to having 23 components of different gems. He was deemed a defect due to these not being common and seen as 'accidents' as they're always unplanned and simply happen by mistake. He was experimented on profusely before being put with the other Tank gems. He was an outcast no matter where he was. I haven't decided how he exactly managed to find his way to the watery planet he was found by the gang on but he was never searched for by Homeworld. He was very happy to get away from them. 'Froggy' in this AU is an alien species that he befriended on the planet that he was stranded on for a long time, he befriended many but that one was the only one that came with him. (He's kinda like pumpkin in a way or those flower like aliens from SUF)

Ghost AU- I've spoken about this AU before. Tragically Big had died in this AU and returned as a ghost. His death was a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time in the story. His spirit dwells in the waters of the property and is very hostile, grabbing at and attempting to pull down anyone who's close enough. It's rare he comes out of the water and is seen elsewhere but when he is it's not really a good sign. Watery ghost boi. Froggy is still alive in this AU and is taken care by someone else now.

Magic AU- Like the rest of the characters he's got a full name, Big Immanis. He's still a fisherman that keeps to himself in this AU, not many know about him and his background. He's a very powerful wizard though and that surprises everyone that meets him, he's a master of water magic and can even manipulate ice and shift the substance between it's solid and liquid forms. Froggy is his familiar in this AU.

Mermaid AU- He's the biggest mer-person in the AU so far. He's a blue whale and is thankfully very friendly but no one dares to mess with him due to his gigantic size. (Sure these mythical creatures that are bigger but still-)

Monster AU (and the sort of 'sub-au' that I call the Cursed AU)- He's a Leviathan in these AUs. In one he was experimented on profusely that mutated him and made him grow in size until he eventually escaped and fled into the deepest parts of the sea. They tried to recapture him at first but... didn't exactly go well for them. While he is a greatly feared legend in the universe' mythology and if he is attacked or pushed enough he can be a major threat, he usually keeps to himself. He mostly tries to avoid being seen by anyone else and his only friends for a long time were tiny fish. He eventually made a few friends with the others in the cast, especially when he got his hands on some glamor which helps disguise him as a normal mobian.

Pokemon AU- He's still a fisherman in this AU as well but I haven't decided if he's a member of the elite 4 in his region or if he is/was a water gym leader in the AU. I just think it'd be funny if the others found out this detail and he just didn't mention it lol His team considers of Poliwag, Milotic, Lapras, Wishiwashi, Matine and Wailmer. I like to imagine he makes friends with a lot of water based pokemon and he feeds a lot of wild ones and helps them if they're injured or sick.

The Quarry AU- This one I recently added him into. I haven't decided all the details but he either lives alone or with his Uncle Huge on the same land where the summer camp is. He helps his Uncle with the 'monster problem' and to help him try to hunt down and kill this monster to make sure few as possible spread the infection it causes. He doesn't really like it as he'd rather be anywhere else but he still wants to help his Uncle and make sure he's safe.

and I do have 2 other kinda sillier AUs. One was the result of dinosaur hyperfixation and the other was a result of watching actually Encanto and decent superhero movies (i.e. the incredibles, into the spider verse, etc)

I think that's all of them rn

[burnwater13]

Grogu had hoped when they all sat down around the campfire that everyone was going to tell stories. He was specifically hoping for scary, spooky stories that made him tingle with fear. Well, not really fear. More like the anticipation of fear that never comes to pass because you’re somewhere safe, surrounded by your friends. He was pretty sure that’s why it tingled. 

Sadly, the Marshal and the Mandalorian wanted to talk to the Tuskens about important things like how to deal with the Krayt dragon that had been killing bantha and destroying parts of the town. Both groups, the Tuskens and the townspeople had realized that they needed to cooperate to accomplish their mutual goal. Grogu understood why that was important, but did they have to talk about it all night?

When he was at the Jedi Temple, he’d liked to sit with the other younglings when Master Beq would tell them something of his adventures. If they were lucky they might also get Master Kenobi or Master Windu to come in and tell them about missions that were no longer considered secret or special. But his favorite times were when Master Drallig came in and told them about the adventures he had with his former padawan, Seb Ta’low. 

Apparently Seb was a magnet for trouble. All sorts of trouble.  There was the time that Master Drallig and Seb went to Batuu and had to collect a Jedi holocron that had fallen into he hands of a Devaronian trader by the name of Vinnoc Vander. It should have been pretty easy. Master Drallig was already the battle master for the Jedi Temple. He understood every weapon and was the master of the lightsaber. His padawan was not. 

They had walked into the trading post at Black Spire and before you could say, don’t touch that, Seb was already holding the holocron. It was like the thing had just thrown itself across the room to him. Master Drallig told Seb to make a run for it because the Jedi Master knew that the Devaronian was super strong and could just rip Seb apart. 

But Seb didn’t hear his Master’s command because the holocron activated and had started talking to Seb. That shocked the other people in the shop and before Vinnoc Vander could get a hand on Seb, they stampeded out of the shop carrying the big Devaronian with them. Unfortunately they also trampled Master Drallig, who’s cloak got caught an some fancy armor before he could get out of their way. 

To his credit, Seb managed to heal his master and shut off the holocron, all at the holocron’s behest, according to Master Drallig. They got the heck out of Black Spire and went to the river community of Peka, so Master Drallig could heal some more without the risk of other artifacts of ancient Jedi or Sith reaching out and finding Seb. It had been Grogu’s opinion at the time that they probably should have just returned to Coruscant. 

But they did not return to Coruscant. They went to the river community. They camped overnight and as Grogu recalled the story it would have been a night very much like this one. A nice clear sky. A campfire. Friendly villagers to talk to. It had been ideal. Right up to the point that Seb asked if he could go fishing. Master Drallig had thought it would be fine. 

Seb could swim. He was an excellent fisherman. The villagers were happy to show him to their favorite spot on the river. They had all the tools and equipment. It should have been a wonderful way to keep the padawan occupied and out of trouble. Even Grogu’s friend Ian shook his head when they reached that part of the story. Because of course if you are a trouble magnet, the trouble is going to find you. It can’t help it. 

For a while Seb was just quietly fishing. The fishing line was just barely touching the water. The bait Seb had been using was standard earth worms, nothing special there. Master Drallig swore that Seb wasn’t actively using the Force. But that didn’t matter. A few seconds later the biggest fish any of them had ever seen jumped up out of the river, grabbed the bait, the line and part of the fishing rod and dove right back into the river taking Seb with it. 

The villagers were alarmed and Master Drallig had to force himself to join them near the edge of the water. After all, he did not swim. Never learned. So, other that using the Force to try and help, Master Drallig wasn’t prepared to do much else. He stood near the bank of the river and held out his left hand (why were so many Jedi left handed? Grogu had often wondered about this,) and tried to pull Seb out of the river. 

Instead, Master Drallig went right into the water after him. When that happened the villagers quickly dove into the water and rescued him. They had almost forgotten about Seb, but a minute or two later, as Master Drallig was wringing out his cloak and other garments, Seb popped up at the bank of the river holding another holocron. Fortunately he didn’t end up activating it above the water, but reported that he had accidentally activated under the water and that’s why the huge fish let go of him. 

Master Drallig hadn’t really cared why the fish let go of him. He was just relieved that Seb was all right. Seb had laughed and said he could have stayed on the bottom of the river all night but he didn’t want to bring back more than two holocrons from this trip. Master Drallig just shook his head. Seb was always telling jokes like that. 

The Jedi Master and his padawan spent the rest of the night near the campfire, with the wet villagers, drying off and listening to the new holocron lecture them all on the benefits of eating fresh fish. Grogu remembered laughing at that. They had all been lucky not to be eaten by a fresh fish. 

Grogu looked around the campfire and noticed that the Tuskens and the Marshal were still not exactly happy with each other, but the Mandalorian was just being quiet. Grogu wondered if Din Djarin was remembering sitting with his teachers, learning the stories of his people. Or maybe he was just asleep?