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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 5 months

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Part 12 - it was just for fools

"We were searching for reasons to play by the rules, but we quickly found it was just for fools." -Mary On A Cross by Ghost

Masterlist Part 11

Wonder Woman, with her extensive diplomatic training, was the perfect speaker to bring before the United Nations council.

There was something regal about Diana, something that demanded attention from all genders and ages, her accent smooth and light with eyes hardened with barely concealed anger at what brought her to their door.

The Anti-Ecto Acts.

Diana understood war. There was very little she hadn’t experienced where it concerned the subject, from betrayal to a very personal loss, but now she had another chance to draw from her past.

Prevention of a war.

Only fools would believe a war against the Infinite Realms, the land of the End and death incarnate, that which holds every afterlife for every belief, was winnable.

Every death on humanity’s side, was another solider for the King of the End.

That was yet another point.

The Once and Future Star King, Vanquisher of the Dark, Protector of the Light, Great One…. Was a Protector spirit. The spirit of a child who died wanting to be saved.

Diana sighed, awaiting her fellow heroes in the meeting hall, Black Canary, Superman and Batman (with his ever tiny Robin) were already present. Red Robin was sat with a tablet, reading through a collection of data instead of conversing.

It was almost seven on the dot, the meeting filled with nearly all members of the League, when Constantine portals in with a flask in one hand and a book in the other.

“Not a word.” He grumbles around an unlit cigarette held between his lips, unceremoniously dropping into an unoccupied seat.

Despite the surprise of John Constantine being on time for something, much less a Justice League meeting, Diana had other concerns to deal with.

Namely, the repeal of the Anti-Ecto Acts.

An unexpected summoning was a shard of ice in her spine, twisting like a knife of betrayal in the nerves, utter agony. Jazz had little warning, little time to brace herself before she was hooked behind her navel and yanked.

Thank the Ancients she wasn’t in the shower, because whoever had the audacity to summon the Ghost King was not going to receive an eyeful for their trouble.

Jazz allowed her armor to materialize, a slick sensation of water down her back soothed the lingering pain of the brutal summons, but her back plate soon settled firmly in place and irritated the nerves more so.

Just as her helmet locked into place, sealing her fully into her armor, green smoke announced her arrival with a dramatic flair she couldn’t find humor in.

Rested on one knee, head bowed, the Regent was quite an intimidating sight for the uninitiated.

Her helmet, full coverage with a crown of green shards embedded into its pulsing ebony metal, only allowed the green tint of her eyes to shine through. Once her head lifted, the several shivers her gaze got proved how effective it was at unnerving others.

With a breath, the Regent stood.

“You have tried to summon the King of the End, why?”

John Constantine was many things- a liar, a cheater, a non-believer- but he was certainly not a fool. He’d been against summoning the Ghost King, knowing full well to whom they would be dragging unwilling instead. Somehow the title of Regent failed to comprehend to most present, which was not Constantine’s fault in the slightest.

(Hey, at least he was mostly sober summoning, right?)

(Had to give credit where it’s due.)

Bats was unamused with Constantine’s first warning of ‘Do not fuck with’ when Phantom had first shown himself, but this was ridiculous really. A message was always better than trying to summon the King, who would want to be interrupted right?

Yet again, the Magician was overruled.

(At least he didn’t have to sell his soul this time.)

(The Phantom already gifted the glued together remnants to his Regent.)

(Morbid as it was, at least John knew it was in better hands than some half wit demon he’d scammed.)

No one answered before the Regent spoke with some amusement lacing her words, “I should have known a summon from you, Constantine, would be painful.”

(Was it a good or bad sign that the Regent didn’t immediately call him ‘Sad Trenchcoat man’?)

Diana politely interjected, “Greetings, My Lady. We apologize for the unfortunate experience and will endeavor to do better in future meetings.”

(Good old Diana.)

“Greetings.” The Regent replied, helmeted head slightly tilted as she studied the others present before her, having been ignored for the time being.

Wonder Woman pressed a fist over her heart with a slight bow of her head as she spoke again, “May I introduce the Justice League and it’s founders; Batman, Superman, and myself, Wonder Woman. You are familiar with Constantine, who is a member of Justice Dark.”

“I am the Regent of the Realms, Lady of the Acropolis, you may refer to me as either.” Jazz intoned, serious as was only right for her titles. “I’ll ask once more… Why.”

Constantine, despite the familiarity he held with Phantom, shivered in the presence of the Regent. The owner of his soul could command he turn on his allies, zap away his free will with only a few words. Sure, he had some doubts that the Regent would, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t. The AEA proved that the Infinite Realms had every right to declare war on the Living and its citizens would be drafted to fight in the Legion, regardless of mortality status.

John was many things- a liar, a cheater, a non-believer- but he was not a soldier or a fool.

He would be called to arms, as a magic user and battle-blooded soldier. There would be no choice, no deal he could make that would see his fate change.

It was fortunate that the Regent didn’t want a war, but there was only so much she could do to hold back the growing tide of angry entities that wanted vengeance on parents, siblings, and children taken from them.

(Ancients above and below, he needed a drink.)

It was times like this that brought the Regent back to her long days of training in the Acropolis. The echo of steel against steel, dodging ecto-blasts, deflecting weapons with her bracelets, Pandora’s steady words…

Pandora was many things- Leader of the Acropolis, Guardian of Hope, teacher, advisor, so on and so forth.

Pandora might be a ghost, an Amazon tasked with guarding her box, a Warrior of the ages past, but she was ultimately the Ancient of Peace.

The Peace she never knew in life, war-hardened as she was. Raised with one hand clutching a weapon and the other an open palm, Pandora was a diplomat at heart. War had not been kind to her, but still, she taught her pupil (the Regent) the importance of listening.

Many issues could be solved when one took the time to shut their mouth.

Draw weapon, draw blood.

Aim at nothing you’re not willing to destroy.

If your opponent believes they have the upper hand, break it.

(These are just a few rules of war.)

(She knew them all by heart.)

(Each one ingrained on her body, scars a testament to a faith in her training and herself.)

The only rule Pandora had given her where to concerned Peace was this:

Reach for it, but know that hearts aren’t so easily swayed as minds.

It was why Jasmine never bothered trying to negotiate with the GIW. Their hearts were black and there was no changing their minds.

Here she was, summoned by the Justice League with their own diplomatic trained Amazon at the ready. Pandora would be proud of her sister-in-arms, because despite the Regent’s unknown threat potential Wonder Woman had not reached for the sword at her side. Instead, she’d done a traditional Amazon greeting, from one warrior to another, a sign of respect that Jasmine had not expected to ever receive outside the Acropolis.

“We had expected to summon the King, but were unaware of a Regent, my lady.” Wonder Woman spoke, but Constantine interrupted whatever she would have said next.

“We wanted to discuss the possibility of war against the living, Regent.”

Jasmine snorted, the voice-modulating function of her helmet made it sound funny to her ears, “Blunt as always, Constantine. You’re worried I would order you against your allies?”

The Sad Trenchcoat Man blinked once, twice, “Bloody Hell, you don’t waste time, do ya?”

“You possess the power to command Constantine?”

That question had come from Lady Gotham’s first Knight, steady with no discernible emotion in voice. His hands were resting on his utility belt, which was a bad sign of his current judgment of her character.

“For the sake of honesty, yes, Dark Knight, as the keeper of his Soul Remnants, I could command the Magician to do my bidding.” The Regent continued, “However, it was a gift and Phantom is fond enough of the Sad one that I wouldn’t use it unless I had no other choice.”

“What would constitute ‘no other choice’?”

Huh, Jasmine was starting to understand why Phantom chose Batman to give the Ghost Files too. She could feel the determination and protectiveness radiating off his soul, a familiar (though less powerful) sensation she only got from her little brother.

“War.” The Regent retorted, “I’m beginning to understand why Phantom would choose you, Knight.”

Constantine perked up a bit, “Didn’t you avenge him?”

“Yes.”

Wonder Woman came forward again, “My Lady, we wish to discuss the conditions of Peace between the Living and the Infinite Realms.”

Jasmine smiled a bit sadly, though no one could see it, “I would be honored to.”

If anyone asked, Red Hood did not swoon when he witnessed his future wife girlfriend kick a man straight in the balls so hard he saw God.

Jazz was a beacon during a Gotham night, beautiful red hair seeming to catch fire with every light that danced across it, shoulders back and head held high his girl resumed her steady pace towards her apartment. This was a typical night for them, minus the would-be mugger and Jazz being unaware of the Red Hood following from above to make sure she got home safely.

(Jason hadn’t been able to convince her to carry a gun.)

(Nonetheless, he knew his girl could take care of herself, but that didn’t stop the worry.)

Hood wasn’t convinced about the safety of the area bordering his Alley, The Ridge, with two relatively unknown metas acting as it’s Vigilantes and seeming to drive down the crime rate in the neighborhood to near extinction faster than he’d seized control of his own territory. It was odd that the metas weren’t crossing into the Alley, seeming to go around it and more into Gotham proper when they decided to roam, as if they respected the Red Hood claim more than the other bats.

(Wasn’t that just a hoot.)

(Two non-bats had more respect for him than his own family.)

The Ridge was the lesser known little brother to Crime Alley, with its residents being mostly three-jobs and a drug problem demographic, but with Phantom and Regent the area had begun to show a bit more life. Sure, most of the builds were on the wrong side of dilapidated, hanging on with duct tape and a wad of gum, but when it was just bright out enough- no matter the time of day- Phantom’s ice can be seen glinting from miles around as it curved itself around foundations and floors to stabilize the structures. It hadn’t melted in the slightest the two months since it’s been formed. Hood had even tried to get a sample for testing, but the ice would not budge. Hell, he’d even taken a cheap shot at it- nothing. Well, except for the fact that you could now see a bullet encased within the ice.

Phantom was a chill guy, apparently.

(Hood internally groaned at the unintentional pun.)

(Quick mental note made to shoot Dick in… well, the dick.)

Red Hood had been gritting his teeth against the warm sensations of protect-anxiety-nervous for days, sensing danger every time he closed his eyes. Something had invaded Gotham and was messing with the Pit.

No, not the Pit. The Pit was gone, no longer bubbling in his gut or green edging his vision, it was gone and replaced with something else.

Something that gave him trouble, but was definitely a step up from Pit Madness.

(And what a time for it to vanish, with Jason dating Jazz no more bloody nightmares when she was in his arms.)

He’d followed that ball of anxiety in his chest across Gotham, unconsciously avoiding Bruce’s usual patrol route and he climbed up to one of the gargoyles that kept vigil over the clock tower. Barbie hadn’t opened the comms to ask him what the hell are you doing here, but he wasn’t going to waste what little time he had with Phantom before he had to return to the Alley.

The kid wasn’t older than Tim, but was ethereal in his form that felt cold to Hood. There wasn’t any sign that Phantom had been hurt by the Drs. Fenton, but Hood was all too aware of how looks could be deceiving.

(The fuckers had vivisected him.)

With every word passed between them, had Hood confirming the Ghost Files information to be accurate as far as Phantom was concerned. He was a teenager, a ghost in Gotham who was under the protection of the Regent and Ghost King.

(Though incredibly corrupted, Barbara had been able to find a few frames of clarity.)

(Lo and behold, the death of those bastards.)

(He knew he recognized the armored figure, but couldn’t figure it out.)

(It was right there on the tip of his tongue.)

That same ball of anxiety loosened its hold with Phantom, a sense of protect-worry overwhelmed whatever else was in his chest.

Phantom was a kid, ghost or not, vigilante or not.

(No more dead robins.)

It took two days and twelve hours for Jason to finally connect the dots between Regent and why in Hell he felt he knew the armored knight.

Jazz was in her kitchen, hair braided and swinging back and forth against her back as she hummed and swayed in time with the soft music playing. His girl looked good in his Gotham Knights t-shirt, shorts revealing her toned thighs and legs, neckline of her borrowed shirt riding low enough to reveal several hickies he’d left on her earlier on the couch. Pride warmed his chest as he watched his darling Jazz, love for her settled deep into his bones. He knew she was the one for him, no going back, even if she didn’t know everything about him-Red Hood, his death, etc.

Jazz was made of steel and iron, forged with love and cracked with betrayal. Who had betrayed her in the past was obvious, her parents, their death must’ve been a mixed bag. Not to mention making the decision to allow their souls to be claimed by the Regent of the Infinite Realms.

He had no doubt she would be unafraid of his nighttime persona, but he didn’t think he could handle her judgment of his past sins. He loved her too much and wanted to be good.

The music stopped, dragging Jason out of his thoughts to find Jazz watching him with concern plain on her face.

“Jace?” She lightly called for him, helpless to her he rose and gently wrapped her in his arms, her head tucked comfortably under his chin.

“I’m ok, Jazz, just have a lot on my mind.”

His girl hummed lightly, the sound vibrating slightly through Jason’s chest where her head rested.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“They’re not worth that much.”

Jazz pinched his side in retaliation for his lightly self-demeaning comment, but ultimately let it go. Another reason he loved her, she didn’t tolerate his bullshit. She’d been horrified to hear his comments about his self-worth, as much as he was joking, and had firmly threatened to punt his ass into the sun if he didn’t start getting a better self-image.

To his credit, he listened and began seeing Harley for counseling, which he knew he’d needed when he’d finally gotten a working braincell again after his dip in the line green Kool-aid. He’d put it off long enough, believing that the Pit wouldn’t let him remain calm enough to discuss his abandonment issues and mental health.

The Pit wasn’t churning in his gut anymore so any anger he felt was all Jason’s, and Jason’s alone. It was oddly satisfying to know that he was once again responsible for how he handled his anger.

Jazz never really demanded anything, only insisting on some boundaries at the start of their relationship when it was difficult to keep his hands to himself while she was in his sight. His darling was the same this why she set those boundaries so they could get to know each other without it just devolving into sex.

Sure, they have done some heavy petting and Jason definitely liked leaving his mark on her, but they hadn’t felt compelled to go further. Now that they had been together a little over a month the heat between them settled into a slow summer in his blood, no more threat of them acting like a pair of degenerate dumbasses with lesser brain function.

Not that Jason would ever be against having sex with Jazz, he loved her and wanted to know her in every sense, but he had to confess several things before he could allow himself to be put off guard with his pants down. The big Y-incision scar on his chest was horrific and Jason didn’t want to scare his girl away before he had a chance to come clean. He wanted, no, needed Jazz to accept every part of him- life, death, Jason and Red Hood. He was ready for her to know the truth.

What he wasn’t ready for, like last time, was the bomb.

A/N: Yes, beta read by @meditating-cat! Great beta reader, really appreciate the quick response and notes. Thanks!

We're gonna have a bit of a time jump between the summoning and the cliffhanger, which means that Jazz being summoned happens after. I wrote it this way for a reason... I think. Don't quote me on that.

Anyways, special red tint this time, because I just watched Death in the Family for the first time before writing this part and...I didn't like it. No, I'm not sure why I don't either. Jason is my favorite character for a reason.

Now, if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go read Wayne family adventures to make myself feel better.

Thanks for reading!

PS: 3k words???

#dp x dc #dp x dc au #dpxdc #jazz fenton #dc x dp crossover #regent!jazz #jason todd #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jazz x jason #cliffhanger #i couldn't resist #*points at jazz* this badass can hold so much angst #*points at Jason* this simp can hold so much angst #Yes beta we live like Jason Todd!#wonder woman #john constantine #constantine may be an idiot but he's not stupid

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mockingspider · 4 months

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since the spiderverse fandom is dying out, i have a confession to make

i thought gwen and miles were already dating until i saw the clocktower scene and was like "wait.. they're just friend?"

#OKAY OKAY OKAY BACKGROUND INFO #THE ONLY THING I EVER SAW FROM SPIDERVERSE BEFORE I WATCHED ATSV WAS 2 SCENES FROM ITSV #AND ONE OF THOSE GWEN WAS THERE AND I JUST ASSUMED SHE WAS DATING MILES #SO I GO INTO ATSV KNOWING NOTHING #AND I SEE THE INTRO AND GO “bro where tf ur man at?”#BUT I DIDNT KNOW THEY WERENT DATING #i was FOOLED #also i yelled at my sister when she said “oh forgot to mention this was part 1”#and my thoughts during the last scene was “YES IM IN BITCH GO SAVE YOUR FRIEND!”#i was so fucking hyped towards the end just for it to end on a cliffhanger #but thats a separate post for another time #ghostflower #gwen stacy #miles morales #across the spiderverse #erin talks abt random stuff #into the spider verse

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thelordofgifs · 4 months

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the fairest stars: post vi

Beren and Lúthien steal two Silmarils, everything spins out of control, et cetera: we are 78k words and 30 parts into this monster bullet point AU now! Masterpost with links to all previous parts on tumblr and AO3 here.

Part 31: on saving people.

Lúthien finds Maglor in the rose garden.

"I came as soon as I heard," she says, sitting down beside him.

(It isn't a lie – she knows Maglor needs a friend right now. But it is true, also, that Barad Eithel is easier at the moment than thinking of the dull unhappy look in Beren's eyes as they departed Morwen's house, and begged shelter like outlaws with others of the Hadorians.)

Maglor does not look at her. He is staring at his lap, very still.

"Maglor," says Lúthien. She dares to put an arm around him, and then tenses, thinking of Morwen's blank and silent grief, and how she rebuffed all Lúthien’s attempts at comfort.

But Maglor shivers, when she touches him, and then leans against her gratefully.

"I didn't know," Lúthien says. "I'm sorry – I would have stopped him, had I known—"

"How could you have known?" Maglor asks, very heavily. Maglor does not wear his grief gracefully: it is an awful frozen thing, numbing his tongue and coarsening his tuneful voice.

Lúthien thinks of those dreadful days after Beren died, and her heart twists again with pity.

"I did not know, either," Maglor says. "You would think – you would think I would have known, if anyone had."

"I am sorry," Lúthien breathes. "I am so, so sorry."

Maglor manages the faintest of smiles for her, but says nothing else.

They sit in silence for a while.

Lúthien does not want to ask the question burning on her tongue, but ask it she must. "Have you any idea where he might have gone?"

"Do you think I would be here, if I did?" Maglor asks, wearily.

He and Fingon have spent hour upon hour pacing around Fingon's study, fruitlessly turning over the same half-questions: why and how and could we have— before returning, inevitably, to the most pressing of the lot: Where is he, where is he, where is he?

They do not know. They have no idea what Maedhros was thinking in the hours before he disappeared, which frightens them almost more than the rest of it.

Lúthien takes a breath. "Do you think – is there any chance – might he have gone to Doriath? My father still has the Silmaril he took from you."

Maglor barely flinches at the reminder of that past failure. "It's possible," he says. "What makes you think of it?"

"He spoke to me," says Lúthien, "just before I left. He asked me if I might not try to persuade my father to relinquish that Silmaril – for your sake."

"For my sake!" Maglor says. He laughs, bitterly. "For my sake! How very considerate of him. What did you answer him?"

Lúthien meets his gaze unhappily. "That I would not try," she says. "If I had only spoken differently..."

“If only, if only, if only,” Maglor says. “Do not blame yourself, Lúthien. Fingon and I have gone down that path too many times already – but the truth is that I do not think anything could have stopped Maedhros, once he had made up his mind.” He shrugs. “Or perhaps I did not know him as well as I thought.”

“You speak of him as though he is dead,” Lúthien breathes.

“He could be,” Maglor says, matter-of-factly.

“You are very angry,” Lúthien murmurs, “are you not?”

Maglor is quiet for a moment. “This is the third time Maedhros has left me to go after a Silmaril,” he says. “In Mithrim, when Morgoth made his false offer of parley. In Menegroth, when he went hunting for Carcharoth. And now this! Yes – yes, I am very angry. It is the Oath – were it not for the damned Oath—”

“I asked you once before,” Lúthien murmurs, “if you would un-swear it, if you could.”

Maglor looks at her with anguished eyes. “I would,” he says. “In an instant, if only I knew how �� look what it has taken from me!”

His breath catches. Lúthien puts her arms around him again.

“Maedhros loves you,” she says quietly, after a moment. “He was – I do not think he was very well, when I spoke to him – but even so it was clear to me how well he loved you. You must not doubt that.”

Maglor thinks of Maedhros whispering, What would it take, to make you hate me? and his own low voice answering, If you left me.

How much easier it would be, he thinks sometimes, not to understand! How comforting bewilderment would feel, to say, I know not why he has done this – what a burden, to know Maedhros as he does, to know what drove him to leave and know that it is, at least in part, Maglor's own fault, that Maglor, utterly trusting, handed his brother the very weapon he turned against him.

Useless, all useless: for all that matters is where Maedhros is now, and he does not know that.

"If he did go to Doriath," he says, attempting to return to Lúthien's question, "he would not have been able to get through your mother's Girdle, anyway." He means to explain, He left the Silmaril with me, but his voice catches halfway through the sentence – he who has always claimed such mastery of words – and all that comes out is, "He left – me, he left me, he left me."

"Oh, Maglor!" Lúthien exclaims. She flings her arms around him again, and Maglor hides his face in her shoulder until he has recovered some of his composure.

(Important, these days, to be composed, to show Fingon's shocked and doubting court that the sons of Fëanor can yet be relied upon – and Maglor's world might have fallen to pieces around him, but he is still good at performing.)

“You must not lose hope,” Lúthien says. She squeezes his hand. "He lives yet, does he not?"

"We cannot tell," Maglor says dully. "He has closed his mind – to me and Fingon both."

It is an awful, suffocating thing, to reach instinctively for the part of his heart that belongs to Maedhros and come up every time against nothing but a smooth impenetrable wall – to cry out, again and again, Where are you? Come back to me, and receive only endless uncaring silence in response.

"I am sure he lives," Lúthien says resolutely, "and you will see him again."

"I have thought him dead once before," says Maglor, "for thirty years, I thought him dead. He was not – and yet—"

Fingon, his voice flat and strange, said once, Makalaurë, is there any chance – he could have – there is a Silmaril in Angband still—

Don't say that, Maglor cried, quicker than thought, don't say that, Finno!

Neither of them have mentioned the possibility since; and so it has lingered, as unspoken things tend to, lurking just beneath the surface of every frantic circular conversation.

"It was not a happy homecoming," he says, "when he was returned to me."

"But he was returned!" Lúthien says. "And he will be again – I am certain of it."

Maglor says, his voice very dreamy, "Celegorm used to shout at me, in those years Maedhros was lost. He said I was a coward, for not attempting a rescue." He shrugs. "He was not wrong – and perhaps little has changed. Am I – am I always to be left behind, waiting for him to return to me?"

"You do not have to be," Lúthien murmurs. She thinks of Hírilorn, and pacing helplessly between its great boughs while Beren lay suffering in Sauron's dungeons.

"Perhaps," Maglor says, "that is the way the story goes, after all – and there is nothing I can do about it. Perhaps unshackling the chains of doom are not as easy as you made it appear, for us."

Lúthien looks at him. "I do not think you really believe that," she says softly.

Maglor meets her gaze, his eyes bright with despair. "I do not believe anything, any more," he says; and when Lúthien, her heart aching, presses a kiss to his cheek she tastes salt.

Meanwhile in the Halls of Mandos:

Withdrawn into the depths of the Halls, where he can nurse this new hurt in peace, Finrod is surprised to sense another approaching him.

For a moment he thinks Celegorm has come to apologise for his harsh speech; but the resemblance between the two spirits is merely superficial.

"You are hard to find, cousin," says Amrod. "I began to think you had taken Mandos up on his offer, and returned to life after all."

Finrod laughs hollowly. "I swore to remain here," he says, "and so I shall – until the breaking of the world, should your brother have his way."

"Is forever always forever?" Amrod asks, dreamily. "Queen Míriel once swore that she would never leave these halls; but she had taken up her body again by the time I arrived here."

"The line of Míriel," says Finrod, "is rather more prone to faithlessness than I."

He regrets the words as soon as he speaks them; barbed, unkind things, more suited to Celegorm than himself.

But Amrod looks at him with pity. "Don't let him make you cruel, Ingoldo," he says. "He did not win when he forced you from your kingdom – nor when he threw all your mercy in your face – but he will, if you grow to imitate him."

Finrod makes an effort to follow this advice. "I would have thought you would be on his side," he says.

"I am," says Amrod. "Why else do you think I want you to save him?"

"I am not sure that is possible, anymore," Finrod says bitterly.

"Neither am I," says Amrod, with a shrug, "but you did swear to try."

Finrod hesitates.

Amrod's story has always horrified him. How bitter a monument to the folly of the sons of Fëanor – how incriminating, that they did not realise after their brother's death that their Oath was pointless, their project Doomed before it could begin!

But Amrod was not just a morality tale: he was Finrod's little cousin, too.

And they have both suffered at Fëanorian hands.

"Why did you stay on the ship?" he asks. "Did you think the Valar would show you mercy, if you returned to these shores?"

"No," Amrod says neutrally. He offers Finrod the edge of a smile. "Only that I had to try."

"I didn't," Finrod says quietly. "I could have turned back with my father, after Alqualondë. I think it would have been better if I had."

"Beren would have died, then," says Amrod, "in the darkness in Tol-in-Gaurhoth. To say nothing of what other good you wrought in Middle-earth."

Finrod thinks of Lúthien, who thanked him for his sacrifice.

"To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well," Amrod muses. "I knew what I was facing, when I decided not to set foot on the beach at Losgar! Not – not that my father was already so consumed by madness – but I did not expect any mercy from the Valar, no." He laughs slightly. "And now here I am. Tyelko tells me it was all for nothing."

"He might not be the best judge of that," says Finrod.

"The brother I remember was kinder than this," Amrod says, thoughtful. He worries at his fingernails as he talks. Sometimes the light, such as it is, shifts and his form becomes that of a charred corpse, his skin crumbling away to reveal the blackened bones beneath. "Was it the Oath that made him so, do you think?"

"The Oath was his own folly," says Finrod. "You do not need to delve so deeply for his motivations: he told me himself that he cast me out of my kingdom because he wanted to, and he does not regret any of it."

“Yes,” Amrod says with a sigh, “it was our own folly, was it not? I was afraid of it, in truth. Afraid of what it might make me become – what it had already made me become, in Alqualondë. And poor Tyelko has gone much further down that dark and lonely path.”

“He killed you,” says Finrod, “and yet you pity him.”

“He killed you, too,” says Amrod, “or as good as – and you pity him too, I think.”

“I do,” Finrod admits. "But he will not accept any pity from me."

Amrod looks at him carefully, and then says, "You ask me why I was willing to turn away from my Oath. Why are you not willing to turn from yours?"

Finrod bristles. "What?"

"You didn't have to go with Beren," says Amrod. "And you didn't have to vow not to leave Mandos until Tyelko can. What made you do it, then? Is it naught but pride – let them add more verses to their songs about Finrod the Faithful, so pure of heart that he forgave his own usurper?"

"No!" Finrod says. "No."

"A hard thing," says Amrod, "to pity someone who does not want or deserve it."

"Quite," Finrod murmurs. "Perhaps that is why I pity him."

"It is a difficult task you have chosen," Amrod warns, "and a thankless one, with little hope of success: even I his brother can tell you that."

"So was the path you chose, when you stayed aboard the ship," says Finrod. "All the same – I have to try. For my sake, perhaps, as much as his." He looks at his cousin again. Amrod's spirit is a pale, flickering thing. "And yours."

"Mine?" says Amrod, sounding truly surprised for the first time.

"It matters, does it not?" Finrod says softly. "That you grieved your deeds – that you were willing to turn back, and face the consequences for them."

"It didn't do anything," says Amrod. "It didn't save anyone."

O for the solidity of a body! Finrod would clasp that small unhappy form to his own, if he could, and squeeze his shoulder comfortingly.

"Then let me save you," he says instead.

Amrod's smile is sad. "I don't think it's that easy," he says.

Back in Barad Eithel:

Before she leaves, Lúthien seeks out the High King.

Fingon is expecting to find one of his lords at the study door, ready to harry him some more about his terrible life choices; so seeing Lúthien is something of a relief.

Even so, he is very tired.

"Is there something I might help you with, lady?" he asks.

"I rather thought I might help you," says Lúthien, tilting her head and offering him a winning smile as she sits down. "But first I owe you my thanks."

Fingon thinks, absurdly, of his abortive promise to behead Curufin. "For what?"

"We have never really spoken, you and I," Lúthien says slowly. "And yet we have rather a lot in common, I think." She smiles at him again. "It was the story of Thangorodrim I was thinking of, when I saved Beren in Tol-in-Gaurhoth."

"I am glad some good came of it, then," Fingon answers bitterly.

Lúthien's eyes on him are sad. "I thought you might say that."

Fingon forces a smile. "Do not mistake me!" he says. "I was pleased indeed to hear how you saved Beren: and pleased, too, that you avenged Finrod my cousin in doing so."

He breaks off. Lúthien's face has filled with sudden pain, hearing Finrod's name.

"I mourn him, too," she says simply, noticing the question in his eyes. "I wish I could have saved him."

At some point you will have to learn that you cannot save everyone, Maglor told Fingon, during the fall of Himring.

Afterwards Fingon thought it mere Fëanorian dramatics; Maedhros had survived the battle, and against all odds so had Maglor, and even Curufin's head was still attached, after all.

Now he thinks perhaps there was a grain of truth to his cousin's words.

Maedhros' distant half-smile and his wide bright eyes and the little tremble in his mouth when Fingon kissed him that last evening—

How did Fingon not see it? How could he have been so blind?

"It is all very well," he says wearily, "to go into the dark armed only with a song, and free one you love from his chains."

Lúthien shudders. She can smell the blood – can feel it, warm and sticky, lapping about her ankles.

"But what can I do," Fingon continues, "if he goes back to the shackles? Am I to break them anyway, against his will?"

"Do you think he has?" Lúthien asks. "Do you think he went to Angband?"

"I don't know!" Fingon exclaims. "How can I not know? I have told myself – I have told him that we are as good as wed – but it is not true! I don't know where he is. How am I to find him, if I don't know where he is – if he has hidden himself from me, deliberately?"

"You can," says Lúthien. "You will. You found him on Thangorodrim, after all. Oh, you of all people must not lose hope!"

"No," Fingon says hollowly. "A High King must not be allowed to despair, after all."

Easier, these days, to understand what drove his father to the breaking point.

"Believe me," says Lúthien, "I know what it is to give your heart to one set on his own destruction." She offers him a faint, comradely sort of smile, but Fingon cannot bring himself to return it. "But is not love about following whether you are wanted or not – about saving them, as many times as it takes?"

Fingon looks at her carefully. Maglor speaks highly of Lúthien, and so did Finrod, but Fingon thinks he would take a liking to her even were it not so: beneath all her ethereal loveliness it seems to him there is a spirit rather akin to his own, both cheerful and practical.

"You do not understand," he says, and closes his eyes.

How is it that this dull defeated voice is his own? Look what you have done to me, he might tell Maedhros; look what you made of me. But the truth is that he left bruises on Maedhros too, with his grasping, over-eager fingers.

"It is not," he says, "it is not merely that I do not know where to follow him this time. It is that – how can I even know whether he wishes me to find him? How do you save someone who does not want to be saved?"

Lúthien thinks of Beren, who heard her singing outside Sauron's tower, and lifted his own voice in response.

She thinks of Maglor telling her that perhaps he need not be bound forever.

"I don't know," she admits.

Fingon tries to master himself. Lúthien may be trustworthy, but all the same he cannot afford to grieve too openly these days.

Is this Maedhros' vengeance on him, to make Fingon's proud and foolish declaration of love into a public stain – to have branded on his cheek, The High King is bound to a traitor?

(There are very few people in Barad Eithel who view Maedhros' disappearance without suspicion.)

"Your story is a happy one, and I am glad of it," he tells Lúthien. "But in truth I know not if its like will be told again – and not of the Noldor, certainly."

Lúthien looks at him unhappily. "Yours is not over yet, either," she says. "Maedhros told me once that I had brought hope to all Elvenkind with my deeds. But you did that long before I."

Fingon smiles at her, practised and kingly, without meeting her gaze.

(to be continued)

#silmarillion #my fic #bullet point fic #the fairest stars #maglor #luthien #finrod #amrod #fingon #yes I left you on a cliffhanger for 2 months and then gave you an update that does not resolve the cliffhanger. sorry #have some sadguys being sad

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rando360ina03 · 4 months

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CEO Au 1

Wednesday doing paper work in her office calmly but it's soon get inturapted when bianca throws the door open.

Bianca: Wednesday something bad happened!!

Wednesday pinched her temple

Wednesday: This better not be another Ken incident, Barkley-

Bianca: It's not! It's-

Wednesday: Relax and get to the point!

Bianca took a second to calm down before telling wednesday what's going on.

Bianca: Do you know who the sinclair family is?

Wednesday was confused but she nodded in agreement, they are a family that's well respected in the west coast why are they being brought up now? She knew they didn't have any business.

Bianca: Esther's Eldest Daughter is here-

Wednesday eyes widened I couldn't be...there's no way

Bianca: Enid is here with Yoko too....

Wednesday wasn't sure what to do it's been 7 years since she went missing, since she disappeared, since her amour went away without a clue with yoko.

Wednesday couldn't tell what she was feeling-

Was she angry? Sad? Or happy? To see Enid or even hear about her in 7 years.

She wasn't sure how to feel...

Wednesday: Tell them I'll be with them...

Bianca: Wednesday you know you don-

Wednesday slammed her fist on the table

Wednesday: I have to- I need my answers...Bianca

Bianca nodded

Bianca: I'll let them know....boss

Bianca closed the door behind her leaving Wednesday to her feelings.

#My CEO Au #yes it's sad and yes I left it on a cliffhanger well see on the next post ;)#I'll draw enid too dw ;)#wenclair #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #lgbtq #yoko tanaka #bianca barclay #wednesday 2022 #netflix wednesday #wednesday incorrect quotes

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animationismycomfort · 1 month

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growing up is realizing you don’t hate anyone in lees group

it’s just a bunch of f-cked up people

forced together in a f-cked up situation

not to mention WITH CHILDREN

#why I think twdg series should’ve ended at the first season #I’m sorry if all of em just died and only clementine was alive and left with omid and Christa as it leaves you on a cliffhanger #is perfect #I just love it #am I just salty about season 2……yes..#I hate how they bring back characters for nostalgia #it just feels stupid especially since they don’t know how to write them anymore #just let em die and stay dead #my stuffy stuff #twdg #opinions #unpopular opinion #maybe #also imagining where everyone in the first group is alive and well is nice #and they interact with the other seasons groups #it’s cute #oh I feel like I should say I’m a twdg kids apologist #they’ve all done nothing wrong

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cashmere-caveman · 11 days

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shogun ep. 9 is just bisexual suicide speed chess toxic breakup edition

#the scream i scrumpt when ochiba no kata basically confessed to mariko under the cover of the heir requesting the anjin!!!!!#i KNEW IT #their flashbacks were sooooo homoerotic teenage friendship coded #like yes. mariko/blackthorne is the main tragic romance if we go by the way the show is written #but mariko has 2 hands! she can have 2 tragic love stories about loyalty and betrayal <3 #shogun #cavetext #this episode fucking ruined me. also blackthorn asking 'would u consider living for Me?'#in shambles. in goddamn fucking shambles. the convo between mariko and her son..... fuck!!!!!!#like yeah ok she finally found a socially acceptable reason to kill herself after trying to die for more than 14 years #but bro. Bro. BRO #lord kiyama not showing up to be her second. Blackthorn stepping up to take his place. fuck. FUCK!!!#THE LAST MINUTE ASSHOLE EX MACHINA!!!!! god i fucking hate him.#and then the cliffhanger at the end. blowing up fx headquarters #shogun spoilers #<- to be safe lol #anyway this episode was so so full of tenderness. war and hate but also love and peace on planet earth. u understand

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undertalethingems · 1 year

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Unexpected Guests Chapter 10: Page 12

First / Previous / Next

There are bad times to have car trouble, and then there are the worst possible times to have car trouble--but this breakdown was no accident, or failure on Toriel's part...

Someone else had a hand in this.

Possibly literally.

Stay tuned--the next update comes out on April 27th!

#undertale #undertale comic #unexpected guests comic #toriel (undertale)#frisk (undertale)#man--some panels in this were a struggle... but i got them done!#looking forward to drawing things besides cars soon though =u=;;#yes i wanted to get more done but i guess i'm leaving you all on a cliffhanger XD

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miraculous-ninjabird · 8 months

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Now I know everyone else is losing it about 110 (and I am to to an extent though I believe in Akutagawa saving Aya) but I having delusional theory thoughts about 109, Dazai and No Longer Human and I have to share them.

It starts with the fact that Dazai can canonically channel his ability through objects. We know this because this is how he and Chuuya defeated Randou in the 15 light novel. This is why Dazai’s ability works even through clothing and why Tainted can’t be used on Dazai even through a conduit. In 109, we see Chuuya directly touch the gun to Dazai’s head before he shot him. We cannot, however, see if that gun is still touching Dazai when Chuuya takes the headshot. All we know for sure is that Dazai was shot 4 times, there are only three impact holes on the wall, and we never actually see the bullet make impact on his head.

This is my theory thus far:

Chuuya, thanks to Arahabaki, is not completely under Fyodor’s control in that he has some free will to move and see and hear but he cannot disobey a direct order. Chuuya understands exactly what Dazai’s angle was when he tried to provoke him into punching him.

Fyodor tells Chuuya to back off since being touched nullifies the vampirism. But what Chuuya knows and supposedly Fyodor doesn’t is that Dazai does not have to directly touch him. All he needs is for Dazai to simultaneously be in contact with the same object as him. So he shoots Dazai in the shoulder (perhaps to show he has free will perhaps just to get Dazai back for all the suffering his plans put Chuuya through in the past) and uses that chance to get up close and touch the gun to Dazai’s head. This action then nullifies the vampirism.

Dazai, initially shocked by the shoulder wound (likely because even he couldn’t be exactly sure how conscious Chuuya was under the vampirism), immediately picks up on what Chuuya has done. However, they cannot under any circumstances let Fyodor know what’s happened. Hence the ‘Am I though?’ when Fyodor tells him he’s all out of plans and the line about finding the right words to cause a miracle and have Chuuya returning to normal. This is Dazai’s subtle way of saying ‘I see and I understand but now is not the right moment to play our hand’

Everything from this point onward is an act. Chuuya and Dazai are just pretending Chuuya is still under Fyodor’s control. Chuuya can take step back and then manipulate the gravity of the bullet shot at Dazai’s head. Since it’s being effected by an ability, it would nullify the instant it touched Dazai’s skin. If I’m understanding how No Longer Human worlds correctly, this means the bullet would theoretically drop harmlessly to the ground, but not before causing a surface wound in the split second between when the bullet hits its target and Dazai’s ability kicking in. This makes for a fairly believable act since Fyodor doesn’t have a good enough angle to see the bullet fall.

Chuuya fires the additional two shots are also a part of the act so that Fyodor will be confidant that even though the headshot didn’t kill Dazai immediately, he was still as good as dead thanks to the other three shots and the broken leg. He then steps back (still not facing the camera) and pretends to be completely unaffected.

Fyodor will have assumed he won. He thinks Dazai is dead, he thinks Sigma is dead. With all the guards gone and Dazai gone, he has no further use for Chuuya. This allows for soukoku to make their move and execute (an albeit modified version of) Dazai’s original plan. (Which I’m personally choosing to believe was killing Fyodor and getting Sigma out, relying on Yosano to be on standby should something happen to Sigma. Her presence though would also ensure his survival as long as they’re quick enough)

Now granted. Chuuya’s eyes look the same as they have the whole arc and he has no visible reaction to this turn of events. But we don’t see his fangs and there’s also the fact he’s also known Dazai for a very, very long time. They know each other inside and out. The hardly even need to communicate anymore to know what the other is thinking. The moment Chuuya comes back to himself is the exact moment everything turns back in Dazai’s favor because they are Soukoku and together they are unstoppable.

Chuuya may not be as brilliant as Dazai but they would not have been such good partners nor rivals if Chuuya was not capable of thinking on his feet fast enough to keep up with Dazai’s thought processes. They also wouldn’t have made good partners if Chuuya hadn’t at some point learned to play up the roles Dazai’s elaborate plans required. If he’s smart enough to keep up with Dazai’s lightning quick plans then he is capable of thinking on his feet fast enough to come with his own way of achieving Dazai’s original goal. (Nullifying Chuuya)

I honestly think with the way it was specifically framed so that even we can’t see what actually happened when Chuuya shot that gun plus knowing this additional fact about how Dazai’s ability works plus the odd number of bullet impacts plus the fact there is no way Dazai would have been able to speak after being shot in the head like that is enough evidence for me to say with reasonable confidence that Dazai is not dead.

I also love the idea that this was not a part of Dazai’s plan. He was not expecting Chuuya to be there initially and after the failed attempt to provoke Chuuya he was not expecting to survive that encounter. I love the idea that Chuuya is one of the few people capable of actually taking Dazai by surprise and that he genuinely did not expecting a turn of events that could actually end in his survival. We already know Dazai wasn’t planning on escaping the prison anyways. All Dazai needed was to get the information he needed on Fyodor’s ability and stop Fyodor from further interfering with his plans to stop the Decay of Angels. What happens to his own life doesn’t matter as long as those two goals are accomplished and he can put his trust in Sigma and his ‘Angel’ to finish what he started.

But with Chuuya in the picture and on his side, he perhaps doesn’t have much of a choice. There’s no way Chuuya is gonna let him just die like that. (He may still die but Chuuya is def gonna do his best to prevent that.) I love the implication that it would be all thanks to Chuuya, his quick thinking, his deep understanding of both his partner’s thought processes and ability, and his genuine desire to see Dazai live that Dazai has any chance of survival at all.

(Bonus notes and at the end since it would have interrupted my flow but. Knowing BSD and it’s penchant for dramatic twists and crazy cliff hangers I would not put it past Asagiri and Harukawa to have portrayed Chuuya as still a vampire just to up the suspense)

Images/supporting evidence/more rambles under the cut (includes 15 light novel and chapter 109 spoilers)

Light Novel Evidence

This is a man who genuinely does not understand What The Fuck just happened and is mad about it because he prides himself on not being taken by surprise.

This is the face of a man who realizes something is happening but is so thrown he hasn’t quite figured out what yet

And this is the face of a man who has figured out exactly why things just played out the way they did out and is pleasantly surprised by it.

Gunshot? What gunshot? I don’t see anything here? hmmm….. (also verrrrry convenient that we cannot see Chuuya’s expression in this panel. In fact we don’t see his face at all any of the times he fires the gun after the initial shot. Which if you ask me is pretty sus.)

I would also like to point out that the vampires don’t seem to talk, and that there hasn’t been a single point since Chuuya’s introduction as a vampire where he has any sort of speech or thought bubble assigned to him. Just sound effects.

Not a single point. EXCEPT.

This panel here. Right after Dazai supposedly ‘dies’ we get to see Chuuya going ‘…’

But why would they include that? We know he’s a vampire and we know he doesn’t talk. (I’m thinking they can’t speak unless ordered to and/or Chuuya has been ordered not to speak to Dazai). Chuuya could have just stood there silently and emotionless without the ‘…’ bubble and it would have had the same effect. Unless this was a way to highlight that Chuuya is specifically choosing not to say something rather than being completely unable to. Which. Interesting to think about. (I won’t discount the possibility that it’s supposed to highlight Dazai’s silence but personally that would have made more sense if they put it on the empty Dazai panel instead. Plus I think this idea is way more interesting.)

Anyways if you stuck around to the end I’d love to know what y’all think of this

#bungou stray dogs #bsd 109 #bsd spoilers #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #soukoku #bsd chapter 109 #I’m actually living for the BSD slow chapter releases becuase I miss theorizing so bad and I’m having the time of me life #this also supports my current either leave 101 as a cliff hanger and animate 55 minutes for the last 2 episodes #or leave 109 as the cliffhanger and animate 55 minutes at the beginning of s6 #this would set the context in the anime that allows for Dazai’s survival if my theory is right #anyways I’m totally normal yes 100%#bsd manga #bsd manga spoilers

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carionto · 4 months

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"Trisha's Log, Day... I don't dare keep up anymore..."

Part 1 2 3 4 5

(Haespar: It's day two. Trisha: Stop ruining my vibe, you're still dead. Haespar: Yes, and I'm haunting you. With facts. Trisha: *hisses*)

"IT HAS BEEN AN INDETERMINABLE NUMBER OF DAYS since I began this expedition, now turned struggle for survival. I've lost Emily and am actively searching for her, but having not had a bite to eat in weeks and running low on water, I don't know if I'll succeed. To whoever finds this-" (Emily: I got the remote power module. And some snacks, here. Haespar: Ooh, melon flavored, my favorite. Thank you very much, Emily. Trisha: *already chowing down on some cheese sticks* Dankss Ehmilhy, yhour da bhest. *gulp* Where was I? Haespar: Starving despair and loneliness. Trisha: Right! Emily, you're currently gone, so just be your usual self and the audience won't know.)

"If you've found this log, I am dead. I died while carrying out my vital mission and searching for my lovely assistant, but failed catastrophically. Unless you're listening to this from a library archive, in which case I totally succeeded and became an awesome legend!"

Trisha continues to detail all of her future exploits and galaxy spanning quest for vengeance, love, mystery, and cake.

Meanwhile:

Haespar: Alright, adjust the telemetry of this unit to the one Valencio cooked up yesterday, and that should hook the biological scanners back up to the bridge. Emily: Done. Haespar: Excellent. *taps his datapad* Ira, bio scans are up on our end, confirm? Ira: Yup, all green. Reading you three down there nice and clean. Trisha's a bit heated up. Monologuing? Haespar: About her imminent demise after years aboard this derelict. Ira: *chuckles* Alright, good to know. While you're there, check on the tertiary power splitter two floors down, the main one up here is acting up a little. Haespar: Will do. Hmm? What's wrong, Emily? Emily: It's flickering between 27 and 28. Haespar: What? Emily: The number of lifesigns aboard.

Trisha: WHOA WHOA WHOA!!! Legit mystery time! *gently into the recorder* (Pause on seducing one of the heads of the three headed corrupt banker to blackmail him for trade secrets only to learn the evil tech startup was a Illuminati cabal all along) Let me see, where is this mystery life dot.

Haespar: It's jumping all over, is there a pattern yet, Emily? Emily: Need to log more data, but doesn't feel like it.

Trisha: It is popping up for a few seconds and disappears for about four times as long though. Hey, isn't that kinda like how you'd do a radio connection attempt? Brute force every frequency range. Oh wait, but then you'd just do all at the same time. Hacking maybe? Trying to get into a specific system without tripping any alarms?

Emily *into her comms unit*: Ira, please send an all frequency ping at these intervals towards us.

Ira: Alright, *shouting* Valencio, give Emily these pings. *normal again* Should be sorted in a tick, what's that about anyway?

Haespar: The lifesign readings are being weird, showing a 28th at regular intervals in random locations. Could be one of the system we haven't checked yet is acting funny and somehow interfering wi- Emily: Wait. It stopped flickering. A 28th. On the bridge. *To comms* Ira?

Ira: Uhh, yeah. I'm looking at him.

???: Hello, my name is Professor Iorvan Hal'Ahmat Garaamhan. Thank you for answering my call.

Continue->

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #carionto #dun dun dun cliffhanger ending?#Yes it is #I'm doing a cliche like that #(mainly because I don't know how to continue yet #but that's a problem for future me)#and now I'm weaving Cthulu in this too #yay!

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pantpisser9000 · 4 months

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Combined together, Chapter 8: Pictures taken

It had been a calm day on the Octopod. They had already finished up the med-checks for the people in the area, so the rest of the day was just filled with… chilling, if anything. Kwazii and the Captain played ping-pong again, (and shockingly, Kwazii was actually able to beat him this time! Peso would’ve congratulated him, but he was still scared of him. Sure, when he was hurt it was a no-brainer, though at the moment? If he wasn’t in Peso’s care, he was still terrifying. (Peso was warming up to him, a bit, though,)) and Tweak was apparently working on a new device of sorts. Dashi was helping her.

Shellington, the vegimals, and the Professor were cooking, (apparently the vegimals had dragged him out of his lab) and Peso had nothing to do. He had already finished his reports, so… Nothing. He was bored. He knew a person like Kwazii or maybe Shellington (though he for a different reason–research, of course) would take a GUP out and drive around. Peso was still terrified of even the thought of driving a GUP.

He’d never even driven a car, so meomi forbid a submarine. Just the thought made a few feathers prick out of his ears and arms. Eventually, he walked out to the hq. The Captain had mentioned hot cocoa at one point, but they still didn’t have it. Apparently they’d be making a stop later for the vegimals to plant some cocoa plants and buy some powder from locals before they grew.

Either way, he sat out there, looking at the calm water, some fish hybrids swimming by. They were elegant–practically mermaids–and it was enjoyable for a good while, before boredom poked its head in his business again. And, as if magic, Kwazii aprared. “Oy, Peso,” he said, and Peso whipped his head back. “Y-yes, Kwazii?” he asked, nervously. “I wanna go out on a ride, matey,” he said, pulling up a chair to sit laxly next to Peso.

Sweat beads cascaded down Peso’s forehead. “...I see.” he said, unsure of what that had to do with him. “You know you can’t-” Peso started, and Kwazii rolled his eyes, leaning back, “I know, I know, which is why,” he put his hands on the table, “I want ye to drive for me.” Kwazii said, flashing a toothy grin.

“W-what?! But I’m a medic-” Peso started, but Kwazii shushed him, pointer finger to Peso’s lips. “Yeah, obviously, but.. Think about it. What if the person who be driving gets hurt? How’d you deal if ya couldn’t drive?” Kwazii questioned, shockingly in a way that made sense. He usually spoke with such pirate junk that it was hard to get what he was saying. “I.. suppose you have a point,” Peso admitted. The pirate cat grinned, dragging Peso down to the launch bay. “Tweak!” Kwazii called. She popped out from behind a wall. “Yeah?” she asked. “Me an’ Peso here are gonna go on a little driving lesson!” Kwazii said, and Peso shakily nodded. “What GUP?” she asked. “Uhh-” Kwazii thought, “The GUP B- wait, no, uh-” he thought for another moment. “W-which GUP would I likely be driving the most?” Peso asked. Tweak stepped out, “The GUP E. Wanna take that?” she asked, and Kwazii looked to Peso, then back to Tweak. “Aye, matey.” She popped a thumbs-up, and pressed a button. Peso heard some whirring, and he saw a giant door inside of the bay open, and the GUP E being whished out.

It bobbed up at the surface, windshield retracting. Tweak motioned. “Thanks, matey!” Kwazii said, doing a flip as he jumped inside. Peso just made a little hop. Tweak looked at them expectantly. “Oh right– Tweak, open the Octohatch, matey!” Kwazii said, giving a thumbs up, and Tweak nodded, pulling the red lever. Kwazii closed the windowshield, and he looked at Peso. “O-oh, right,” Peso pulled on the steering wheel in the way that made it dip down, albeit very slowly. “Back up, and turn around,” Kwazii said, and Peso, (again very slowly) did so. Kwazii groaned.

“Speed it up, matey!” he said, and he put his arms over Peso’s, guiding an embarrassed Peso’s arms around. The area around was pretty clear, fortunately. Well, except for a trench. It wasn’t a big one though–certainly not the Mariana. And, it was somewhat far away. Didn’t really stop Peso’s worries about it, though. Kwazii instructed next; “Come on, push more forward!” and Peso squeezed his eyes shut, and the GUP was going faster.

Not as fast as it could, of course, and certainly not even close to as fast as the GUP B could go. “Faster!” Peso shook his head–he was sure he’d just about die if he went any faster. Though before he could properly protest, Kwazii pushed more on the wheel, and they were speeding ahead–directly towards a rock! “Pull to the left, matey!” Kwazii called, and Peso didn’t let himself freeze up, and he did it, jerking the steering wheel to the side, just narrowly avoiding the rock as they cruised past. Kwazii threw his arms up in the air, “Yeow! That was great, Peso!” he cheered. Peso just shook silently. The GUP had stilled, (Peso had let the wheel fall from his hands after that) and Kwazii put his hands on his hips. “I’d say that went well.” “I’m not so sure about that.” “Well, we didn’t crash.” “Please tell me that you’re not saying that not crashing is considered an accomplishment to you.” Kwazii shrugged.

Peso sighed. As he looked out the window, the water looked a little darker than before, and the GUP was shaking a tad. “I didn’t know it got dark so quickly in this area,” Peso remarked, and Kwazii looked confused. “Whuh?” and he glanced out the window, lifting his eyepatch, (and Peso learned that there actually wasn’t an injury under there. Odd.) and he muttered, “Shiver me whiskers.” “What is it?” Peso asked.

“We be in the midst of a storm.” Kwazii said, and he looked at Peso with a sort of worry. Peso guessed that since he had been (presumably, given the way he acted–it’d be insane if he wasn’t) a pirate for a long time, and probably knew the currents well enough or something. Not that Peso couldn’t tell–the GUP E was wobbling so much now both of them were having difficulty keeping their balance, and Peso saw fish hybrids being swept away in the strong currents at lightning speed.

“W-what do we do?” because even though as much as he was (still–even if he was warming up to him) scared of Kwazii, he had a feeling he’d have a better idea of knowing what to do. “Aha–uhhhhh… oh!” he dashed over to the screen as Peso sat down at the back of the GUP, unsure of what to do, “Kwazii t’ Captain Barnacl- oh, it be no use.” Kwazii muttered, and just as he said that, the GUP lost any sort of stability it once had, and was now being carried away in a current, Kwazii grabbing onto the panel for dear life while Peso pressed himself against the back wall of the GUP E (technically the back wall of half of it, not the back-back wall as that’s where water could filter into, but you get the point).

The water around them churned, and it was a little tiny bit horrifying to Peso, and if it was to Kwazii, he wasn’t showing it. Peso sealed up his helmet, and Kwazii glanced back at him, mimicking it and the bubble-like helmet covered his head within an instant. Kwazii grabbed onto the wheel, and he tried to turn (presumably back to the Octopod) but he winced when his shoulder ached and he as flung back against the wall–there was nothing they could do, as they saw the GUP plummet to the ground, just near the trench.

Fortunately, they weren’t dangling over the edge, just nestled in the sand near it, but it was still horrifying to the penguin hybrid. “Kwa-” he started, though the cat was gone. “KWAZII?!” he yelled and then he heard a scraping noise coming from behind, and he peered through the tiny window on the door of the GUP E, and “flappity flippers” he exclaimed, Kwazii was trudging along in the sand. Peso could practically hear the plink, plink, plink of the sand hitting his helmet, and he panicked–what was he doing?

Peso gulped, and the GUP E slid back, closer to the edge. Was Kwazii just abandoning him for dead? And just when Peso thought he was nice! But, no, that.. It really didn’t seem like him, honestly. Though, maybe Peso’s original idea was right–he was just a thieving pirate who was out to get him or abandon everyone or steal or something. Or maybe he was just irrational because he was scared. Who knows.

He heard the GUP E’s metal scraping against the seafloor, and he panicked, he tried the radio again–static. The GUP was settled (kinda) in the sand, or at the very least it wasn’t as wobbly as before, so he could stand up, but he tripped and his hand pressed against the big orange button–the Octo-alert. Of course, it couldn’t connect to the Octopod, so it just rang in his ears while the sound played in the GUP E. And, he felt the GUP slowly move in the other direction, and he, confused given how the currents were definitely going in the other direction before, (and he didn’t think currents like that changed on the fly–especially not in the midst of the storm like at the moment) and he looked through the window, and…

It was Kwazii! He had tied kelp or seaweed or something around the GUP, and was trying to pull it. Peso felt bad for doubting him. He was clearly struggling, though. Peso gulped. He wasn’t strong, but maybe he could help, somehow. His helmet was still up. He attached his medical bag to the hem of his pants, and he jumped into the harsh water. His boots planted into the sand, and the currents were pushing him hard, and he was so scared that he was going to be swept away right into the trench.

He practically crawled over, and he stood up, wobbling, and he grabbed onto the kelp, and Kwazii flashed him a sharp grin, and Peso returned with a utterly terrified but confident one. They pulled, and pulled, and Peso knew they weren’t too far away from the Octopod, but it felt like it was taking hours. The sand pelting against their bodies, the current trying to sweep them off their feet–it was a lot to deal with.

They trudged through the ruckus, and they made it far, (or at least Peso hoped they made it far) but Peso’s arms were getting tired, and he was certain that Kwazii was the same. Suddenly, he heard a snippet of Kwazii’s voice through the murky water, “m–atey-” he heard, “th–re be —- trac—g on th’ GUP-” was all that Peso could make out. He presumed Kwazii was saying that there was tracking on the GUP E, though he wondered why that was relevant at all. “W—-an le—ave it h—-ere”

Leave the GUP? Peso thought. If he agreed, he was sure the rest of the crew would be able to find it, right? Given the priorly mentioned GUP tracking and all. Just as he was saying “yes”, something came into view–a hull of a ship emerging from the stirred up sand and swirling waves, and Peso practically jumped for joy. “Captain Barnacles!” he cheered, and Kwazii whipped his head around, and he pumped his fist in the air. The GUP C lowered, its back facing towards Peso and Kwazii. Kwazii swam over, grabbing the tow line and swimming back to the GUP E and Peso, and they attached it to its rudders. They both hopped back inside the GUP E after giving a thumbs-up to the Captain, and it scraped against the ground, but eventually, it lifted, and while it was bumpy–both Kwazii and Peso were sitting in the seats—it was kinda bearable. Until, suddenly, the anchor loosened, tilting the GUP and the cat & penguin hybrids to the side, and Kwazii fell on top of Peso, “sorry matey” and suddenly, the GUP lurched back as the anchor couldn’t hold onto the GUP E anymore.

They were flung back, GUP E cruising through the currents without control, and Peso couldn’t help himself but grab onto Kwazii’s hand (and he didn’t realize his claws were out and digging into his flesh because he was just so scared and any form of comfort was comfort, right?) and Kwazii squeezed back, arching his back and shielding Peso’s body with his own, as they suddenly hit something. Peso opened his previously squeezed-shut eyes and as he looked around, he realized, the current couldn’t get to them anymore, but..

“W-we’re stuck in the trench!” Peso exclaimed, and Kwazii got up from his place on top of Peso. “Peso, me hearty… we be one wrong move away from plummetin’ down there like a sunken ship!” and the GUP teetered. “Over t’ that side, matey!” Kwazii yelled, and they leaned against the front part of the GUP E. Their placement was precarious. The back half of the GUP E was leaning off the edge, while the front half was “secure” on the rocky ridge. Peso gulped. Neither knew how much longer the storm would last. “Matey,” Kwazii said, “I think we got to try to get the GUP E more secure on the ledge,” he said, and Peso gulped again. “But how?” Kwazii stepped on the gas (it was battery run but it’s just an expression, right) and the rutter moved a lot, and it scooched them a little over…though the kelp they’d used to drag it along had clogged it up a bit.

Smart in that moment, now an idiot move. If one of them as much as took another step to the side, they could fall down into the treacherous trench. Both of them were still. Neither wanting to risk it. Despite Kwazii’s usually very… danger-oriented nature, he clearly didn’t want to die. And he couldn’t fulfill his nature at the risk of that. “W-what do we do?” Peso whimpered. “..I dunno, matey. I’m sure- the Octonauts will save us,” Kwazii replied. “They gotta.”

As they were there, both nervous out of their damn minds, the churning water just above the trench, there was nothing they could do. “We gatta come up with a escape plan, matey,” Kwazii said, breaking the silence. “Huh?” Peso blinked away his tears. “Um, w-why?” he asked. Maybe it was a stupid question, though. “So incase if the GUP E ‘ere falls, we don’t die, matey.” Kwazii said, a hint of rudeness in his voice. “Oh. Right..” Peso muttered. “.... wait. Can’t we just… open the back part of the GUP E and swim out? Or.. uh, better yet–open the window shield?” Peso suggested. Kwazii looked at him. “Good idea, matey!” Kwazii said. “Okay, on me count,” Kwazii put up his helmet, and Peso mimicked him, “we swim out, in three,” Peso gulped, “two,” Kwazii’s hand hovered over the button, “one!” he shouted, slamming the button and water flooded inside of the green submarine, and it pushed it back and teetered off the side of the ledge, and Kwazii and Peso swam out, and Kwazii grabbed the front part of the GUP (given how the windshield was still down) and he pulled it, (Peso grabbing onto him to help) and he got it to a steadier place on the side. “Shiver me whiskers, that was..” Kwazii turned to Peso, “very exciting!” he said, shaking him by the shoulders till Peso got dizzy. “W-well, now what?” Peso asked. Kwazii blinked. “...I didn’t think that far ahead.”

Peso put a flipper to his chin. “W-we could just try to swim back to the Octopod..” he offered. “A bold idea that be, though..” Kwazii looked up. “Even a trained pirate such as meself wouldn’t dare brave that storm.” and Peso looked up too. Even from below, it looked terrifying. “....so we’re sitting ducks..” he muttered. Kwazii sat down against the wall of the trench. “Practically.”

Peso sat down next to him. “Wait, Kwazii, our air!” he said, and Kwazii’s uncovered eye widened. “A-and we flooded the GUP E, so we can’t rely on that-” he muttered, and Kwazii got up and paced around. “Shiver me whiskers, Peso, I be- I don’t-” and now both of them were panicked, Peso curled up with his knees to his chest and Kwazii pacing back and forth. Their air tanks wouldn’t last forever. Unfortunately, only the Captain had the Octocompass to check the tanks–they couldn’t. “W-well, they were full when we left, right?” Peso asked, and Kwazii nodded. “But we be out here a while, matey–they-”

Both were panicking to every degree. “Sure– surely the Captain will come rescue us, right?” Peso said. “He will, but–what if he be too late?” Kwazii replied. Peso was silent after that one. What if he was too late? What if him and Kwazii just… died? Hopefully not. And suddenly, like a angel, they saw something blue braving the waves, and it swooped down, and, “Captain Barnacles!” Peso exclaimed for the second time that day. They saw him press a button. “Swim under, there’s a opening,” the Captain said, and the two rapidly swam over to the GUP C, and popped up into it, the door closing behind them. Kwazii and Peso both took in a breath of air. The Captain was smiling. “I’m glad you’re alright. But what were you doing outside of the GUP E?” he asked. Peso and Kwazii looked at each other. “It be teetering off th’ edge, Captain! Certainly a death sentence if I didn’t come up with th’ idea t’ escape through the windshield and then pull the GUP up on the trench side more!” he said. Peso was unimpressed–that was his idea, or at least the first part was. “I helped with that idea,” he said, and the Captain patted them both on the back. “Both of you did good on working together and not, ah, getting hur-” he looked at Peso's hand. “Peso, your hand is bleeding,” the Captain said. Peso looked down at it. Oh. When he had been gripping onto Kwazii’s hand for dear life, Kwazii’s claws had come out and sliced into his palms a little. “Oh.. I think I scratched my hand on a rock a little.” Peso lied, and he felt bad about that, but the Captain didn’t need to know about that. “...I see.” the Captain said. “Better be more careful next time matey!” Kwazii replied.

That’s a little funny for you to say, Kwazii, Peso thought. “We’ll have to wait out the storm,” the Captain said. “It’s too risky to drive while the waters are like that.” he continued and Peso and Kwazii nodded. Kwazii sat down. “I be set for a catnap,” Kwazii said, and he curled up down on the floor, and fell asleep immediately. The Captain and Peso looked at each other and laughed–it was somewhat impressive he could just do that on the whim.

Peso looked at his arms and felt his ears–the feathers were gone. He supposed he was okay, now. He sat down next to Kwazii’s sleeping figure and decided to take a little rest, too. It’d been a long day. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt a blanket being draped over Kwazii and himself.

Lunch was often a casual, relaxing time on the Octopod–when it wasn’t interrupted by the blaring of the Octo-alert, or a mission was happening, of course–and today was no different. The Captain with Kwazii and Peso on both his left and right, and Shellington sat next to Kwazii, with Dashi across from him. Sat next to her was Tweak, and then Inkling was next to her. Kelp cakes, pudding, and seaweed chips (Tweak and Kwazii had managed to convince the Captain to let them get some–even if he wasn’t a fan of the amount of salt they contained) that Tweak and Kwazii were practically just passing the bag back and forth, pouring some onto their plates.

And of course, the kelp cakes varied too–the regular ones, some carrot based ones (Tweak had helped the vegimals come up with that one) and some miso soup ones. The vegimals liked coming up with different types and variations. Some were smashing success, (like the chocolate one (besides with Dashi, obviously. She is part dog)) and others…not so much (The sand one, while… creative, wasn’t exactly tasty).

The topic today had been focused on family and childhood mainly, as Dashi had mentioned how they should have digital photo albums for everybody. And eventually, that had transformed into this conversation. As Dashi wiped off her chin with a napkin, “I did ballet as a kid,” she said, putting the napkin down. “I really wanted to teach my little sister it, but it wasn’t her style.” she continued, shrugging. Peso chimed in, (albeit kinda nervously) “My older sister did ballet for a while, though she switched over to ice skating..” Dashi put a hand to her chin. “Oh, I enjoyed ice skating the few times I did it–Australia’s not quite.. Ah, suited for it, though.” Kwazii nodded. “I sailed past one time! It be real hot, even in the seas.” he added, and Dashi nodded. “It’s very hot.”

“Though, surfing’s good there.” she mentioned, and Peso piped up once more, “Oh! I’ve done body surfing with my family before,” he recalled fondly. “It w-was really fun.” “It is, isn’t it? I’ve always loved it.”

“I never surfed, though I be a good swashbuckler,” Kwazii said, plopping a seaweed chip in his mouth. “What does swashbuckling even… entail?” Tweak asked. Kwazii just threw another chip in his mouth. “‘S a lot… like uh-” he trailed off. The table laughed. “Well, you know, I was a polar scout when I was younger,” the Captain mentioned.

“What that be?” Kwazii asked, and the Captain fondly recollected, “Ah, it was just a little.. Organization, I suppose, that had us to activities that could come in handy during an emergency, or help others.” he said, and Kwazii nodded. “T-that’s cool, Captain!” Peso chimed in, “Thank you, Peso,” he said. “Professor Natquik was our little troop leader, a very nice man. I wonder how he’s doing… he took care of me and Bianca when we were younger.” the Captain said.

“Like a babysitter, for instance?” Inkling questioned. “Something like that. He was more like a… a father, if anything.” Barnacles said. “I see..” Kwazii piped up. “Yeah, Captain Wolfb-” he stopped himself, and Dashi was curious on why, clearing his throat, “I be also taken in by another guy, after me parents left me on me own.” Kwazii said. “...what’d you mean ‘leave you on yer own’, Kwazii?” Tweak questioned. Kwazii shrugged, leaning back in his seat and letting another seaweed chip fall into his open mouth. “Me parents, I’d presume they wanted to let me…. Be independent or somethin’, cus they left me in a box in an alley when I be a wee kitten.” Kwazii said, totally laxly. Everyone looked utterly shocked, befuddled even. “What?” Kwazii asked, popping another chip into his mouth. “They left y’ in a box?” Tweak asked.

“...yeah? Did- does that not be normal?” he asked, and was met with an astounding “NO” and he was surprised. “...how old did you say you were again, Kwazii?” Dashi asked. “Around… uh- well, to be honest, I not be entirely sure of me age, but around.. Six or seven, probably.” Now it was Peso’s turn to speak up. “SIX YEARS OLD?!” Peso yelled, and everyone looked at him. Obviously. Especially given how quiet he tended to be. “T-that’s just, um, horrifying, that’s all.” and nobody could really disagree with that.

“Huh. Didn’t know that.” he muttered. The table was a bit quieter for a moment, before Shellington spoke up. “I have an older sister,” he said. Everyone was, expectantly, a little confused. He was just trying to lighten the mood, that was all. “People confuse us for being twins, though.” he continues, looking at his plate and popping a kelp cake in his mouth. “I have a twin sister,” the Captain said. “I mentioned her before–Bianca.” he continued. “Ah, my sister’s name is Pearl. I hope we can visit her soon, actually.” Shellington said. “I’m sure we can, Shellington.” the Captain says. “Where does she live?” “In a kelp forest near Scotland.” he says, taking a bite of a seaweed chip.

“Sorry, did you say in a kelp forest, Shellington?” the Captain asks. “Yes! She’s part sea otter, like myself, of course.” Shellington says. Dashi pipes up, “She’s quite nice.” and they all look at her. “Yar’ve met Shellington’s sister, matey?” Kwazii asks, and Dashi nods. “Me and Shellington ran into each other a while back, after I had just got hired to be an Octonaut. I was finishing my two-weeks for my flight attendant job. He needed some pictures of him and his sister for a project, so I offered to take some.” Dashi told them.

“Actually, now that I think of it–I think we should get everyone’s pictures uploaded to the Octopod’s database.” she offers. Peso tilts his head to the side. “W-why?” he questions. “Just incase if they get lost or something, there’s a copy out there.” she says, and Peso nods. “Good idea, Dashi.”

“I can start with my own, since I already have those. And then Shellington’s. Anyone wanna volunteer to go next?” she asks. Tweak raises her hand. “I’d like t’, Dashi.” she says, and Dashi gives a thumbs-up. “Okay, me, Shellington, Tweak…” “I’ll do it after Tweak, Dashi.” the Captain says, and Dashi nods. “I’ll go, matey!” Kwazii pipes up. Dashi curtly nods once more. “I-I’ll go after Kwazii.” Peso suggests, and Dashi nods again. “I will go last, then.” Inkling says, and Dashi flashes a thumbs-up.

***

Her pictures were fairly easy to upload, given she took most of them on her own camera, and she had her phone on the ship with her. Sure, nobody really used their phones while aboard, (even if the wifi was shockingly good) but it was handy for getting some pictures from her family. She wasn’t always able to take the picture, after all. She decides that everyone should have all their pictures uploaded besides any repeated pictures. Or, in Dashi’s case, if they had way too many. So, she ended up putting a nice list of photos for herself.

One of just herself, full body (she decided that everyone should have one of those)

One of her and her younger sister, Koshi

One of her and her whole immediate family

One of her and her full extended family

Some old ballet pictures/hobby related ones

One of her in her flight attendant garb

And some vacation pictures that involved herself.

She figured it was a good list. It wasn’t all of her pictures, (she actually enjoyed selfies, shockingly) but it was a lot. And certainly all of the ones that she’d want backed up, at least. Next up was Shellington.

She went ahead and uploaded all of the pictures she’d taken, and Shellington sent her the other ones. He didn’t seem to have any with his full family, but Dashi decided not to pry. It’d be rude, certainly. She called him up though anyway. “Dashi, did I accidentally not send you all the pictures?” he asked as he shot out from the Octochute, and Dashi shook her head. “No, you sent them all. I just need to take a few.” she said, and Shellington cocked his head to the side. “A full body shot of you, and of you and the vegimals. I’ve taken a few of those already, but I want one with all of them in view as well.” she said, and Shellington nodded. “I can go fetch them right now, if you’d like,” he said, and Dashi nodded. “That’d be wonderful.”

Shellington ran off again, into the garden pod. It was where the vegimals spent most of their time, given that’s where they farmed and cooked, so it made sense he’d check there first. Though, sometimes, they wandered off to random places, (especially Codish–the pink one–and Grouber, –the big purple one– or on occasion, Barrot.) and got lost. Of course, they almost never left the Octopod unless if it was all of them going (or just Tunip given as he was pretty much the leader, the representative of them, so that instead of all of them going when the Octo-alert was sounded, it was just him so they didn’t have to stop their duties) so that led to lost vegimals not being a regularly occurring thing.

That’s what Dashi thought until Shellington, frantic, jumped out of the chute with all of the vegimals trailing behind him. Except one. The tiniest of the bunch–tomminow. Small and red, they often stayed with the others. Almost never ventured off on their own, and if they did, it was usually with Grouber or one of the other vegimals. They just tried to help their brothers whenever they could, and that was what they did.

Except now, they couldn’t help because they were “Tomminow’s missing, Dashi,” Shellington said, and Dashi was a little surprised. What had happened to them? The one vegimal who was never on their own. “Are they in the garden or kitchen?” Dashi asked, just making sure she was covering all bases. Shellington looked to the vegimals, and Tunip trilled a response. “Tunip says they looked in every nook and cranny in both of those places. They’re not there.”

Dashi put her hand on Shellington’s shoulder. “Let’s check the lab,” Dashi suggests, and Shellington looks at her, confused. “Why would they be there?” he asked. Dashi shrugged. “Tomminow’s sweet. And all of them know you have a tendency to forget to eat, so maybe they brought some food down or something.” Dashi explains, and Shellington nods. “Makes sense.” he says, and they both go into the laboratory–nothing. “Maybe they’re spending time with the Professor?” Dashi suggests, pointing to the library. Professor Inkling says he hasn’t seen them. Dashi can feel the nervousness radiating off of Dr. Shellington. “Infirmary, maybe?” she says, and Peso says he didn’t see them at all. “Let’s go to the game pod, maybe they got challenged to play pingpong,” Dashi says, and when she, him, and his 4 current vegetable-fish-human children arrive, Kwazii and the Captain are playing. “Tomminow’s missing?” the Captain asks, and Dashi nods. “Have you seen them?” she asks, and Kwazii shakes his head. “Nah, matey. Maybe they be helping Tweak, though?” he suggests, and Dashi and Shellington decide to listen to his suggestion and head to the launch bay. “Missin’?” Tweak asks, tightening a bolt on the GUP A, leaning over on it from the jutted out bit in the bay. “Tomminow, the tiny red one,” Shellington elaborates, gripping onto his satchel’s strap tight. “No, sorry. I haven’t seen ‘em.” Tweak says sympathetically.

Shellington looks at Dashi. “Where are they, then?” he asks no one. And nobody besides Tomminow themself knows the answer.

Suddenly, the alarm blares–but not the Octo-alert. Tweak races over to the screen, and she presses a button, and she gasps. “Somethin’s stuck in one of th’ pipes!” she cries, and Shellington and Dashi look at each other, sharing one thought–Tomminow.

“Which one, Tweak?” Dashi asks, somehow still sounding calm even in this situation. She pressed a few buttons and pulled it up on screen, the orangish dot lodged in the pipes that was likely Tomminow blinking, and she pointed. “It’s one of the ones for the kitchen’s sink. No idea how they got in there, assumin’ it is Tominnow…” she said, biting into her ‘thinking carrot’ as she called it.

She looked at Shellington and Dashi. “But no matter how or why, we needa get em out. I’m soundin’ the Octo-alert!” she said, slapping the button with her palm, and the ‘woop, woop’ sound echoed throughout the ship. “What’s the matter, Tweak?” the Captain asked through the screen–he appeared to still be in the gamepod with Kwazii from what Dashi could see.

“Somethin’--we think it may be Tominnow–is stuck in one of th’ pipes!” Tweak frantically said, and the Captain’s eyes widened. “Tominnow be stuck in the pipes?! I know they be a little matey, but–the pipes?” Kwazii commented from behind. Tweak nodded. “It’s in the kitchen.” she said, and the Captain commanded, “Octonauts, to the garden pod!”

***

Soon enough, all of them were there. Shellington looked to be on the verge of tears, most of the vegimals were crying, and everyone else just looked generally concerned. Tweak pulled up a map of the pipes on her Octo-tablet, and her face displayed a grimace. “It doesn’t look great. It’s a little bit of a tight squeeze for someone like the Captain,” and Dashi seemed to be the only one who noticed the Captain get significantly more nervous,”but fer me or Kwazii or Dashi it’d be okay. We’d have to cut a hole about..” she stepped over to a tile, thumping her boot down. “Here. It’d allow for the easiest entrance. And, we’d uh, have to cut open the pipe. So, whoever’s going down will have to twist the valve to stop the flow completely, because otherwise we’d have a real disaster.”

She sighed. “I could do-” she started, but Kwazii piped up. “I’ll do it, matey!” he valiantly said. It wasn’t a surprise that he wanted to do the risky thing. Tweak nodded. “That’s a good idea. It’s probably smart to have me supervising from above, looking at th’ pipes and the sort anyways.” she said. And so, it was decided. “Captain, you know how t’ belay, right?” Tweak asked. He nodded. “Of course. It was part of my polar scout training.” he said, and Tweak gave a thumbs up.

As Tweak cut open the hole in the Octopod’s kitchen’s floor, Kwazii wormed his way into the harness, and was embarrassed when it was all twisted up and he had to do it again (this time with some help from the Captain). Though after that little fiasco, they were good to go. Well, after Tweak gave him a backpack that held a sawzall, a device that could cut through the metal pipes. “Okay, Kwaz, yer gonna want t’ step on the big pipe right there,” Tweak said, pointing. Kwazii turned on his headlight. “I see it, matey.” he said, confident. He was slowly lowered down by the Captain, landing square on the pipe with the thump of his Octo-boots. He could hear the chorus of sighs of reliefs.

“Okay, there should be a pipe to yer left.” Kwazii hesitated, doing the L finger trick with his hands (Even if he couldn’t read or write very well, he had managed to still get that trick down). “It’s thinner then the one yer standing on now, so be careful.” Tweak said from above. “I always be careful!” Kwazii said, jumping down and he wobbled a little bit, but eventually regained his balance on the pipe easily. “The one Tomminow is stuck in is the one just to the right of that,” Tweak says, “Walk forward to get to the valve for it.” she says, and Kwazii obeys, carefully balancing on the pipe. “Wait, stop!” Tweak calls, and he stops immediately. “Get on all fours–otherwise, you’ll bonk yer head into a pipe.” she says, and Kwazii does so. “Now continue.”

Kwazii crawls along, his headlamp just barely illuminating the space. “Okay, the valve should just be on the pipe.” Tweak tells him, and Kwazii looks at it. “I see it, matey!” he says. “Twist it to the left,” Tweak says, and Kwazii does so, twisting with all his might, and eventually, he’s able to. “Now go back, and I’ll tell ya when to stop.” she says, and Kwazii crawls back, gripping onto the pipe. He’s glad it’s made of metal that his cat claws can’t slice through, because they’re currently out. They tend to when he’s stressed or needs to grip something like he is right now.

And eventually, Tweak tells him to stop, and he comes to a halt. “Now, on the pipe, I want you to take out the Sawzall.” she says, and he takes the backpack off, pulling the sawzall out. “Don’t worry, Tomminow’s a lot more to the side, so you won’t be cutting the pipe on them.” Tweak clarifies, though Kwazii has a feeling it’s to calm Peso, Shellington, and the rest of the vegimals, not him.

He revs it up, and he places it on the pipe. “It’ll probably take a minute, so be patient,” Tweak says, and Kwazii has the urge to make a snarky comment back, but he doesn’t want to get distracted, so he doesn’t say anything.

It takes a couple of minutes, but he perseveres through and the pipe is left open. “Lil matey?” he calls, and he hears a trill. And… flopping? “Can y’ get over ‘ere, matey?” he asks, and he puts his hands under the opening after putting the sawzall back in his backpack. He only hears some trills, and some more flopping, and soon, he sees the little red–oh, wait–

“...does they usually look so–fishy?” Kwazii asks as the little fish flops into his hands, and he comforts them as best as he can. “You be okay, little matey!” he says, and suddenly, the little guy transforms back into a more humanoid form, legs instead of tail, and a regular person head (just with a sprout) instead of a fish head with a sprout. He thinks it’s a sprout, at least. Tomminow, donned in their little overalls, clutches onto Kwazii’s shirt like it’s the only thing anchoring them to life. “I’ve got ‘em!” Kwazii calls, “Lift us up!” and slowly, they’re highered, just having to dodge a pipe or two.

Once they’re back at the usual floor, Tominnow is crying, a wet spot on the ginger cat’s shirt. “Oh- you be alright?” he asks, and Tomminow just grips harder. Kwazii’s bad at comforting, though, so as he stands there awkwardly as the little guy cries into his shirt, he offers, “Um, don’t ya wanna see Shellington?” he asks, and Tominnow looks up, and he trills happily as Kwazii extends out his arms and Tominnow leaps into Shellingtons.

“...I think I have t’ change shirts..” Kwazii says, grabbing the hem of his shirt and stretching it out to look at it. He undos his harness, and he walks out, going to his room to presumably change his shirt.

As he enters, he takes a glance at his catnip plant, and at his closet. He’s tempted, to say the least. Part of him feels he shouldn’t, dinner’s probably soon, but at the same time…he hadn’t even taken a little of either things, so he decides he owes himself a little treat. Opening his way too many doors to get into his closet, he grabs a bottle. He pours out a little in an Octo-mug. It’s not much, really. He pours a little more out–it’s only like, half full.

He walks out, closing his barrage of doors, and he grabs a little bit off his catnip plant. He figures he should eat it, because that’ll mellow him out. And so, he drops it into his mouth, and consumes, and he finds his brain getting a little fuzzy. His arms are covered in more fur, now. He supposes it’s a side effect of the catnip–making him more cat-like. He takes a swig out of the mug, and it burns his throat in a good way.

He’s sitting on the floor next to his bed, and he pulls out an action comic. Sure, he can barely read, but he can usually grasp what’s going on just from the pictures. He takes another swig, and he’s not entirely sure how long it’s been since the one before.

And of course, eventually, he’s drunk all that’s left in the mug. He’s not super high or drunk or anything of the sorts at the moment, but he’s mellowed out and he’s satisfied as he sprawls out on the ground because he thinks he sees a new color, and wow is it pretty. He curls up on the floor, and he doesn’t fall asleep but it is very nice. Even if it’s hardwood. He traces his fingers–paws?--along it, giggling for no apparent reason.

He just kinda hopes nobody walks into his room, because he’d prefer not getting his things banned. They probably won’t, right? He’s probably a legal adult for that kind of thing. He’s not really sure partially because he doesn’t know the legal age for that and partially because he doesn’t know his own age. Really, a tough situation. He’s sure he’s like… an adult, though. He’s been around for at least 18 years though, he reckons.

Plus, Peso’s like… 27 or something like that and Kwazii’s probably older than that, he figures. Given how Peso acts. He thinks of this as he’s sprawled across the floor and he can feel his eyes getting droopy, and he dozes off pretty quickly.

He’s awoken by his alarm that next morning, and he groans. “Mmmmmrroww..” he mewls, rolling over on the floor, “Yeow!” he shouts, as his shoulder hits the hardwood floor particularly hard. It’s healed since the whole tiger shark ordeal, but it hurts more than it would usually whenever he bumps it into anything. Thinking about it now, he realizes it’s been a little while since that whole thing. He supposes time has just been passing by–and he hasn’t thought about his old crew much.

Sure, they were terrible, but, he still finds himself missing them a little. They were his family, practically. Especially… especially him. Wolfbeard. He shuddered just even thinking of the guy. He was.. Honestly probably the only thing he was scared of, besides spiders, (no matter how much he denied that fact) but fortunately, like spiders, he couldn’t jumpscare him under the water. He sailed on a pirate ship, not a submarine like the Octopod!

Even if he despised the guy now, he was being honest earlier when he said he was like a dad to him. Given his parents left him at a young age, and Calico Jack went missing a long, long time ago, he didn’t have anyone else. Groaning and getting up, he crawled into his bed. He shouldn’t go back to sleep, though he wanted to. He stretched and got out. Walking out, him and the Captain had decided to leave their rooms at the same time. “Good morning, Kwazii,” the Captain said. “Mornin’, Captain,” he replied. Oh. That was the first time he’d called him Captain. He figured the term and ol’ him had been separated enough in his mind to be comfortable calling someone else that. “Off to breakfast, ey?” Kwazii says, jumping, and the Captain curtly nods. “Yes. I believe Dashi is going to be uploading more pictures, today.” he tells Kwazii, and the cat nods. “Oh, alright. Who’s she on?” “Shellington, I believe. She wasn’t able to finish yesterday with Tomminow’s situation. And, she might skip Tweak for now since she needs to repair the pipe and the floor.” Captain Barnacles said, and Kwazii gave a thumbs up. “Oh, who be after Tweak?” Kwazii asked.

“Myself. Then you, I believe.” he said, and Kwazii nodded, jumping down the chute. The Captain trailed after him as they launched into the headquarters of the Octopod, and Dashi was already there. So was Tweak. “Hiya Cap,” she said, waving to the Captain. “Hello Tweak. How’s the progress on the pipe going?” he asked, and Tweak put her hand on her hip and took out a carrot. “I know how t’ do it, but y’ need to belay me.” she said. “And the vegimals are too nervous to go into the kitchen while the hole’s open, so we may have to… delay breakfast.” she rubbed the back of her neck.

Kwazii sulked, his ears pressing against the sides of his head. “Aw, that be unfortunate.” he said, and Tweak agreed, taking another bite of her carrot. “Agreed. I’m hungry.” she said. The Captain cleared his throat. “Speaking of,” he looked at Tweak, “We should go do that right now,” and Tweak flashes a thumbs up. “Yup! Let’s go,” Tweak exclaims, and she and the Captain head into the Garden Pod’s chute.

Dashi turns around in her chair. “They’re technically next, after Shellington, but he’s busy coaxing the vegimals. I think we should get your pictures uploaded right now,” she says, and Kwazii blinks, a little surprised. “Arr, okay Matey!” he says, and he runs to the chute. “Try to get any and all pictures you have!” she says, and Kwazii gives a thumbs up as he jumps into the chute.

He backflips out into the small area between his and the Captain’s rooms, and he walks into his room. He knows he has one sacred picture of him and Calico Jack in his closet, the only one that Kwazii had with him and his Grandfather. He had other pictures of just himself or just Calico but that was the only one with them together. Kwazii knew Calico was great, obviously. Just about one of the most famous pirates there ever was! And as much as he wanted to brag about that fact, especially since he was his inspiration for being who he was, it also felt.. Wrong. He didn’t know his crew well enough to tell them. One day, though. But, he did have a few of just himself–not many, as most of the pictures he had taken during most of his life were with his old crew. And he only had one that he had brought–he hadn’t wanted to escape on that little lifeboat with too many remembrances of the past. He… if something happened to the Octopod, he wouldn’t mind that one being destroyed forever. So, instead, he picked up his small amount of pictures of just himself… and he brought them down to Dashi.

“No offense, Kwazii, but is this really all you have?” she asks him as he hands her the minimal amount of pictures. “Yes.” he lies, and despite being a pirate, he’s a bad liar. Though, even if Dashi can certainly tell, (she seems pretty perceptive, plus she made a face at the lie) she doesn’t pry, thankfully. Kwazii isn’t sure if he’d be able to lie straight to her face again, especially if she interrogates him. “Hm. Alright. Well, this shouldn’t take long at all, then,” she says. “What exactly are all of the pictures of, by the way?” she asks, tapping at the screen.

Kwazii picks one up. “This is me as a wee kitten,” he says, handing it back to Dashi. “Aw,” she coos, and Kwazii flushes in embarrassment. Maybe he should’ve left that one out, too. “This one be of me chugging me first rum,” he says. Dashi makes a face. “...I know you don’t know your age, but you look.. Pretty young, there,” she says. Kwazii puts his hands on his hips. “Ah, well a pirate has his first rum at 10, usually.” Dashi looks concerned. Kwazii clears his throat, accidentally a little like the Captain. It’s a habit he has. Mimicking little things like that. He knows he still subconsciously does things that he used to do. It’s not on purpose, really. It’s just a force of habit, truly. Dashi doesn’t say anything more. “And the last?” she asks, still scanning in the second. “That be me after they got lopped off!” he says, handing the picture to Dashi, and she blinks. “Huh. Didn’t know you were trans, Kwazii.” she says, beginning to scan in the picture.

He cocks his head to the side. “Trans?” he asks, genuinely. She swivels her seat back to look at him, and then back at the picture. “Do you–” she pinches her nose bridge. “Were you born with feminine features, Kwazii?” she asks, and Kwazii shrugs. “Me parents thought I be a girl for way too long, I guess. An’ I got those lumps growing,” he motions to his chest, “There. For some weird reason.” he says. Dashi chuckles.

“What?” he asks. “Don’t worry about it, Kwazii.” she says, a hint of a giggle still in her voice. He decides to ignore that interaction. “Well, I have some other pictures of you that I took, so I’ll upload those,” Dashi said. “Would you mind getting Peso for me?” she asks. “He’s next. Well, probably, at least. Given Tweak and the Captain are probably still fixing up the kitchen from the whole pipe situation, and I think the vegimals won’t leave the lab until the kitchen’s fixed.” she says, shrugging. Kwazii gives a thumbs-up. “Will do, matey.” he says, bounding off to go inform Peso.

When he gets there, Peso seems to be cleaning up. “Hey, matey!” Kwazii yells out, and Peso’s head bobs up, looking at Kwazii with widened eyes. “H-hello, Kwazii. Why are you here?” he asks, walking towards him. “Yer next for th’ whole picture thing. Y’ might wanna grab some from yer room,” Kwazii says. Peso blinks. “Oh, okay! I’ll go do that now then,” and Kwazii flashes a thumbs-up. Now what?

He’d figure it out, probably.

Dashi isn’t left waiting long, though she’s able to upload all the pictures she already has of Peso on her camera before he gets there. Peso arrives just 20 minutes after Kwazii went to go fetch him, a box presumably filled to the brim with pictures in his grasp. When he places it next to her, Dashi finds she was right. She should’ve expected it, but this was a lot of damn pictures. She held back the urge to sigh. Peso pulled one out, and unleashed it from its frame.

“This is of my whole family, not including all of my cousins and aunts and uncles for the most part.” he says. Dashi nods, careful to not accidentally rip it as she scans it in. It seems to have been kept in pristine condition, (unlike Kwazii’s pictures) so that made the process a tad easier. She handed it back to him, and he slid it back into its frame. He put it off to the side.

He hands her another after taking it out of its own frame. “Me and my younger brother, Pinto, when he was just a chick” he explains as he hands it to Dashi. She coos–it’s an adorable picture. Who she presumes is Pinto is swaddled in a red scarf, and who she assumes is Peso looks nervous and elated at the same time. She scans this one in with ease too. She hands it back, and the process starts again.

This one’s of Peso and all of his siblings–his older (twin) siblings Perita and Pogo off to the left, Peso next to them, and who she presumes is Pinto’s head barely in frame to Peso’s right. The next is of a lot of penguin hybrids that Dashi can’t distinguish on top of a hill, and who Peso clarifies is himself face-planted in some snow. The one after that is Peso with his medical diploma. Peso in a hospital, which he says is his first real job (Technically more of an internship, but same difference, right?). There’s a lot more pictures after that, but Dashi kinda zones out at that point.

Eventually, though, Peso’s photos are all uploaded. Dashi thinks one day they should all show their pictures in the game room–or just watch a movie or something. It’s been a while since she’s had a movie night, actually. And she didn’t think anybody would mind snacking on some buttery popcorn. Been a while since she’s had that, too.

When she laxes back in her chair, she remembers the only ones left are the Captain, Tweak, and Professor Inkling. Technically Shellington and the Vegimals too, but it’s not that many more pictures. She could hold off on that for a little longer. And, as if Meomi themself had granted it, the green haired girl and white haired man popped out of the octo-chute just moments later. “Heya Dashi” Tweak greeted, and Dashi took in the state of them. Covered in sweat, the both of them. As Tweak grabbed a carrot, she dropped it almost immediately, wincing. “Got my hands burned.” Tweak elaborates, kicking up the carrot and it lands on the table. “I’m gonna go t’ Peso, even if it’s probably fin-” The Captain looks at her sternly. “... I’m goin’ to Peso, ain’t I?” she says, and he nods. “That’s true. Now,” he says. Tweak rolls her eyes playfully, jumping down the Octo-chute.

He turns to Dashi, walking up behind her. “How is the photo-uploading coming along, Dashi?” he asked. “Excellent, Captain. I just need… yours, Tweak’s, and the Professor’s.” the Captain nods. “I’m off to the showers, but I can go get Professor Inkling.” he says, and Dashi grins. “That’d be wonderful Captain.” she says, waving as he launches himself down the Octo hatch. She sighs.

A frigid shower was probably the most refreshing thing to Captain Barnacles. Given the whole part-polar-bear thing, it was enjoyable. He always tried to keep his showers short, though. Less time in the shower, less likely the Octo-alert would sound while he was in the shower. Either way, it finished quickly, he got changed, and he decided to head down to the hq. Dashi seemed to have already finished up with the Professor’s photos when he walked in, and he walked up behind her. “Dashi, how is the photo-uploading going?” he asked, and she swiveled back to look at him. “Really well, actually,” she says, tapping on the screen. “I’ve got Kwazii’s,” she swiped past a few of his, “Peso’s, My own, most of Shellington’s, the Professor’s… only two I need are yours, Tweak’s, and a little for Shellington.” she says, and the Captain nods. “That’s fantastic, Dashi.” he says, hands behind his back.

“Mhm. And, I actually have a bit of an idea,” she says, now swiveling the chair completely towards Barnacles. “There’s going to be Octonauts after us, right?” she asks, and the Captain tenses. He hadn’t really thought about it. “Well, yes, there will be.” he cocks his head to the side. “Why?” he asks, curious on what this had to do with anything. “I figured that, and so I had the idea–what if we made a series of videos that are sort of, uh, instructions, I guess. For specific scenarios and situations, I suppose.”

He puts a finger to his chin. “That’s an excellent idea Dashi!” he says, and Dashi flashes a thumbs-up. “If you could compose a list of sorts of all the things somebody might need to know so that we can develop the videos, that would be great, Captain.” she explains, and Barnacles nods. “I’ll do it once we’re done with my photos,” he says, and Dashi nods. “I’ll go grab them now,” Barnacles finishes, and Dashi nods, facing back towards her screen. He jumps down the Octo-chute, and walks to his room. He gathers up all of his pictures in his arms, and is easily able to carry him all. He works out every day for a reason, after all.

***

Dashi was glad they’d gotten through uploading all the photos, but this new project was going to take longer. And be a lot more effort, to say the least. Making a LOT of instruction videos was going to take awhile, and it already had. Her and the Captain had gotten together and come up with a bunch of ideas, then later Dashi stayed up kinda late, (blasting music through her earbuds, probably visible eyebags, some of the vegimals bringing her a plate of fish biscuits or kelp cakes on the occasion to keep her fed, sitting criss-crossed on a chair with a fluffy pillow under her, makeup freshly wiped off her face) editing and coming up with ideas for the videos from the ideas.

She had a lot, to say the least. She was kinda excited to see Captain in that ‘exercise’ outfit that he mentioned–sounded silly, in all honesty. She knew they weren’t doing this in any particular order, and she’d probably end up switching up the numbers a little in the end so that it’s not a bunch of the same thing in a row. Currently, though, she needed to get the actual set up done. A greenscreen was necessary, of course. A lot of these ideas involved it.

Plus, there was an idea with a blob–one of the few videos that wasn’t just the Captain speaking–that they needed pudding for, plus two others. Dashi figured it’d be Peso and Kwazii, given how those two were 1: often the least busy (especially Kwazii who was really only actually doing things during missions) 2: both most likely more than willing (Peso because he likes helping people + would feel bad if he didn’t help and Kwazii because of boredom). She had a video camera… not the best one, but it would work.

And today was the start of filming. The first few videos were kinda ‘cringey’--given how the Captain was dressed up in bright, 80s inspired workout clothes, and Dashi was trying to keep herself from giggling basically the entire time. The Captain seemed to be rocking it though, not at all embarrassed, (Dashi wondered if he was a theatre kid) and showing off his ‘polar bear strength’ in a few of the videos. Fortunately, the filming for most of those ones only took… about an hour or two? And there would be a lot more filming. The next batch was just a lot of ‘what if’ situations, some of which the Captain explained just with his words, and a few that they decided on physical visuals. The non-physical-visuals was a little… repetitive, to say the least. The Captain, in front of the greenscreen, yapping on about one thing or another. And that same thing, just… a million times. It was getting at least a little boring. Then, the ones with physical visuals, just… without those, yet. The intros, basically. And, eventually, after a lot of filming (and I truly mean a LOT of damn filming) the Captain orders for a break.

“Dashi, I believe a break is in order.” he said, and Dashi looked up from the camera that was currently situated on the tripod. “Oh- of course, Captain,” she said, standing up from her squatting position and dusting off her (still clean) skirt. He grabbed his Octo-compass from his belt, looking at the time. “Yes, it’s just about lunchtime, anyway.” he started putting away his Octo-compass back onto his belt. Dashi nodded, clicking the off button on the camera. “Sounds excellent, Captain,” she said as they walked over to the chute, which the Captain jumped in. She followed in after him, whooping a little as she was launched down.

When she entered the kitchen/dining area of the garden pod, almost everyone was seated, except for Shellington. Dashi was… mildly curious why he wasn’t present. She grasped a plate from the end of the table, getting some fish biscuits and some kelp cakes. There were some clam sandwiches, too. As she sat down, she asked, “Where’s Shellington?”. Kwazii was the one who answered her. “He be researchin’... somethin’. He be real vague,” Kwazii shrugged, “But he hasn’t been comin’ up for meals for a day or two,” he said. Dashi knew her concern was apparent with her expression. “Th’ vegimals have been taking him stuff,” Tweak added. “Oh, that’s good.” Dashi remarked.

Peso and Kwazii ended up chatting about something or another and everyone else jutted in with their own remarks, though Dashi wasn’t really paying attention. She was concerned for Shellington–sure, he seemed like the type to get obsessed and obsessively research something–, but not even coming out of his lab to eat for a long period of time? It was… mildly concerning at best. She noticed the vegimals were walking off with a plate, and she stopped them. “Tunip, do you mind if I take Shellington his food today?” Tunip tilted his head in confusion for a moment, then nodded, placing the plate back. Dashi finished up, put her plate in the sink, and grabbed Shellington’s.

Detective work was usually Koshi’s gig, though Dashi figured she’d have to temporarily do it today.

Jumping down the Octo-chute, food in hand and hair bouncing, she landed in the main hall. She raised an eyebrow—the door to Shellington’s lab wasn’t usually closed.

#yes its a cliffhanger #also merry christmas/happy holidays #octonauts peso #octonauts #octonauts kwazii #fanfic #captain barnacles #octonauts dashi #octonauts tweak #octonauts shellington #sorry theres no art this time i didnt have time to

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