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cococaffeinated · 3 months

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To Keep You, Part 3 (siren AU)

Recap: Part 1, Part 2 It's a drabble-comic mix for this part! My hands couldn't keep up with the story I had brewing and I didn't wanna put it off just cos I couldn't draw fast enough. Also, MC (the reader, you) has hair now. I know not everyone has medium-length hair, but it won in the polls I did outside the Tumblr app! Still, feel free to imagine how your own MC would look like though.

You stood still... Cautious as you watched the gargantuan sea siren dive back into the depths of the dark waters surrounding the cave's opening. It had clicked and chirped at you before going away. You still had no way of knowing what it was telling you. But you had a feeling it'd be back.

Without the light from the siren's lure, you were plunged into the darkness in its absence. You waited a good long moment before beginning your exploration, needing your eyes to adjust to the dark. Before their departure, the creature had pointed to a house and a fire pit further south of the cave... You could have been imagining it, but it seemed to be giving you something akin to a house tour. Despite everything, the thought in itself was funny. 'First things first, warmth and light should be a priority.' You thought as you shuffled over to the fire pit, using the damp cavern walls for guidance. Unfortunately, there was nothing around that you could use to start a fire. And with how damp you are, you didn't think trying your luck with clacking random stones together would be fruitful. Letting out a huff of determination, you blindly walked over to the rope ladder where you remembered seeing it a few moments ago when the cave was lit. It should lead to the cabin you saw earlier. It took a bit of doing... What with some of the rope steps missing from the lack of maintenance on top of it being dark... But eventually, you made it to the top of the tiny cliff, where the cabin stood. Breathless, you lay on your back for a moment. Your gaze wanders to study the area from where you lay. The cabin was simple, nothing grand. It looked sturdy despite its weather-worn look. There were no lit lights inside or outside, no sign of life. To the right of the cabin was a wooden chest. You chuckle to yourself. Thoughts of video games and lootable treasure items coming to the forefront of your mind. If sea monsters were real, you sure as hell hope this thing wasn't a mimic chest. Steeling your nerves, you stood up and made your way to the chest to investigate its contents.

You weren't about to question your stroke of extremely good luck.

Your eyes particularly zoomed in on the cluster of flint and steel in the chest, as well as the torches. While you didn't think you'd need a torch just yet, you were happy to have them handy in case you did. Reaching for the clothes in the neat pile of items, you admired the soft but sturdy material. Rifling through it, you found there were shoes tucked between the tunic shirt and the pants at the bottom.

"Stranger and stranger... If no one has lived here in years, how are all these here and in good condition?" you mutter to yourself. The chest was awfully well-equipped for someone who would happen upon it with nothing in hand. Just like you at the moment. Shaking your head, you focused on your first order of business. An outfit change. You took the clothes with you as you entered the cabin, lighting old lanterns as you went with flint and steel to illuminate the small living space.

Inside was a small bed off to one side, a wooden desk to the other, crates of boxes, and a cabinet. There wasn't much else to give the place personality... Ironically, this told you that whoever used to live here only used this place as a pit-stop at most. A half-way home. You laid out the clothes you had on the bed, covering your mouth and nose as dust floated upward from the slightest impact, before getting out of your wet suit. You slipped the tunic on first... it was soft and warm. And you were thankful that the pants it came with were just as comfortable to wear.

Making quick work of some spare linens you found in the cabinet, you made make-shift socks to cover your feet before stepping into the soft leather boots that came with the rest of your ensemble.

You wished you had a mirror to look yourself over but you felt good, at least. And more importantly, you were no longer cold and wet. Now that you were sure you weren't going to catch your death with a cold, you stepped back outside the cabin to take another good look inside the chest. "Let's see... There's a pouch of gold coins," you hummed as you put those to the side. You could always count them later. "If I manage to get out of here, they could be useful..." you mused to yourself. You next picked up the book, surprised by its weight. Turning it over this way and that, you found small little notes sticking out of the sides on varied segments of the book... It seemed like an almanac of sorts. Before you can crack it open, a sealed scroll letter catches your attention next. So you put down the book for now and gingerly peel open the sealed letter.

The book would need more time to study and internalize. The letter would at least be easier to digest, hopefully.

//TBC

#sirenau hibeam #cococaffeinatedarts #comics #drabble #x yn #x reader #not beta read #My writing skills are at best much like an amateur dungeon master trying to spin a story #Hope you all still enjoy this regardless~!

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quirkwizard · 3 years

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Spoiled Sushi

For a while, a certain article has been vexing me. One that seems to have a great misunderstanding of the series it was writing about, missing obvious points and core parts of the worldbuilding. No, it wasn’t by CBR, nor was it by Screenrant. But it was by Cruchyroll of all places. They decided to make an article about the Top 5 Misused Quirks in My Hero Academia. It was not good and has been bugging me. So I decided to give them a taste of their own medicine. I mean they try to shut down whoever even attempts to do what they do, so why not make fun of them for trying to do what I do? Plus you guys seem to like it when I’m snarky, so this could be fun for everyone.

For clarity’s sake, this was written at the beginning of 2019, when the most recent chapter was Chapter 214 and the the anime had only reached Season 3. I’m keeping that in mind as I write. I will also be skipping around some of the parts of the article as I am talking about it. If its not worth mentioning, I won’t bring it up, simple as that. For instance, I’m skipping the intro because it is completely superfluous and would only serve to make a completely different fanbase mad. Might as well, most of what I am passing up are just dumb jokes. But if you are curious... don’t waste your time reading this. Your time is valuable and you have better things to do then read this article.

5. Kurogiri Can Create Free, Renewable Energy

“In all seriousness, though, Kurogiri is probably one of the most powerful characters in the anime, with their being virtually no limit to how far he can extend his Warp Gate portals.”

I mean there are certainly limits for his Quirk. Besides the need to know the coordinates or see where he is moving, there’s obviously a limit to how much he can spread out his body.

“Why then doesn’t he use them to create near-infinite energy? Open two portals one above another, throw in a heavy object inside and watch it fall endlessly. Devise a way to hook a dynamo or something to it and, bam, you have free power that would make Kurogiri a billionaire overnight and a hero to the entire planet.”

This idea has so many problems that I don’t even know where to begin.

One, if this could work, it likely wouldn’t make a lot of energy. Besides the various physics problems involved in this, Kurogiri would just be one guy doing this, meaning that it’s unlikely he’d be able to make enough power to matter.

Two, Kurogiri would still need rest as he is a living being, meaning he wouldn’t to keep up this theoretical contraption forever and you’d get even less energy relying on him. At most, it would work best in a small bunker as a last resort.

Three, that sounds like it would be a lot more dangerous then it would be worth for the energy made. If Kurogiri would to lose focus for a moment, the portals fall apart and there would just be a lot of damage from this heavy object moving at high speeds.

“Even if Kurogiri only cares about taking down All Might, it would still be much easier to do if he had a literal mountain of money/public goodwill at his side.”

What kind of bizzaro universe are you living in where the guy who makes energy could possibly turn public option about the very well liked Number 1 Hero that saves lives every day? That’s literally what Lex Luthor does and people hate him for it.

4. Koji Koda Could Help Feed Billions Of People

“Koji is the resident Class 1-A stoner (get it? he's made of rock? come on) with the power to control ANY creature in the animal kingdom. This would logically also include spiders, meaning that Koji could literally end all street crime in, like, 5 minutes tops by swallowing all the criminals up in a giant arachno-tsunami.”

While this article is infuriating in many ways, it did give us the mental image of an “arachno-tsunami”. Which is totally worth sitting through this jumbled mess of words and ignorance.

“But, you see, Koji is just too shy and nice to be an effective hero. He wants to do good but he just doesn’t have that fighter instinct in him. Which is why he should instead use his Anivoice Quirk to revolutionize agriculture all around the world.”

You can be an effective hero and not beat people up. Sure, it certainly can come up in the job description, but that isn’t all of what a hero is meant to do. Koda’s Quirk makes him great at information gathering and rescue work, two very important aspects of hero work that suit his personality perfectly.

“Give him a megaphone and fly him over American fields, telling feral pigs to stop causing $1.5 billion worth of damage a year in destroyed crops. Fly him to Australia to tell the invasive cane toads and rabbits to kindly lemming themselves off a cliff. Have him tell the aggressive lionfish the get the hell out of the Atlantic. FORCE HIM TO GET OVER HIS FEAR OF BUGS AND MAKE AGRICULTURAL PESTS A THING OF THE PAST. “

There is no possible way Koda could be everywhere at once to pull that off. And considering that the average human voice can only carry for about a mile, IE, about the average size of a single farm. You know, because animals need to hear his voice in order to receive his commands. So even if it was limited to a single farm, its unlikely to do much to help. But by far the biggest issue with this entire plan is that what Koda does to an animal is not permanent. The second his control is interrupted, the animals return to normal, bound to just go back to whatever they were doing before.

So if Koda tries to change anything, its just going to end up undone by the time he leaves, just delaying the inevitable problem that comes from these animals. So even if Koda told the pigs to go away, they’d likely be back by the next day, destroying farmland like nothing happened. Even then, because of the previous limitations, he’d still have to go farm by farm to pull it off. That’s not even mentioning all of the other suggestions. Honestly, if you wanted to do something with Quirk, you should just convince all the animals to line up during hunting season. Dark, yes, but it least it would offer a more permanent solution then what the writer is suggesting.

“If Koji was utilized properly, he could travel the world undoing mankind’s mistakes and creating organic, pesticide-free crops instead of doing what he does now, which is largely sitting around on his ass roleplaying Snow White.”

Which, in spite of many fans joking about his Quirk, has shown to be very helpful quite a few times.

3. Inko Midoriya Would Have Made A Great Nurse

“Izuku’s mother in My Hero Academia has mainly done two things so far: jack and squat.”

I mean she did design Izuku’s costume, even if it got replaced, its is still a corner stone of his design, and she offered a good amount of drama after the fight with All Might and All For One.

“She did try to be a good mother but kind of failed at that when she tearfully apologized to her son because he was born without a Quirk, essentially telling him: “I’m so sorry I gave birth to such a loser.””

Would you believe that this one line was what really prompted me to talk about this? Because that is probably one of the worst takes I have ever in relation to this series. If you honestly believed that is what Inko was doing, the woman who practically raised her child by herself and constantly talks about much she cares for him, you must be watching the wrong series. That’s the only way I could explain why that is.

“So, she doesn’t really have much going on in her life. That’s why she should try nursing instead. I realize that becoming a nurse takes a lot of hard work and dedication, but Inko would be a natural fit for it. Despite her initial shortcomings, she is a very caring person with loads of empathy.”

Inko’s empathic? Could have fooled me. I mean she did feel the need to apologize to her son for giving birth to a loser. No, I am not over that, how could you have possibly gotten that from the scene?!

“She also has the power of limited telekinesis. Inko can move small objects over short distances, and while that would not be helpful for stopping crime, it would be great for, say, removing kidney stones. Or things stuck in people’s throats. Or coins from children’s stomachs.”

Trying to use a Quirk like this in any kind of medical procedure is laughable at best and dangerous at worst. Imagine if Inko had to remove a bullet from someone. From what we see, the process of her moving objects is slow and need several pulls from her to attract the object to her. So if she’s going to try to pull it out and its going to get caught on something, causing more damage to the person she is trying to save. She’s basically going to be keying the insides of whoever she is trying to operate on.

The entire reasons doctors, especially surgeons, train for so long is because the human body can be extremely delicate. It needs a lot of care and time so the doctors don’t make things worse for the patients. It’s why surgeons need to have such steady hands and a lot of time even to due minor procedures. But trying to do that with a Quirk is just going to cause more problems then it can solve. Doing that with a Quirk like Inko’s just lacks a lot of the precision and dexterity necessary to pull this off.

2. Uraraka Should Go Work For A Shipping Company

“Ochaco Uraraka has one of the most well-rounded Quirks out of all the main characters: Zero Gravity. With it, she can make objects and people float, which is great for offense, defense, and rescue operations. As a superheroine, she is doing everything right with her Quirk.”

I mean “Zero Gravity” can kind of be used offensively, but not effectively as other Quirks. Its why she did all of that training with Gun Head to make up for her lack of an offensive presence. Eh, two of three ain’t bad. I’ll take what I can get.

“I just think Uraraka should never have become a superheroine in the first place. Uraraka has actually always been honest about her motivation: she wants dem YEN YEN BILLS YO (for her struggling family.)”

That’s because hero work is an extremely frugal business even super minor heroes can still seem to make a decent living out of it.

“But regular jobs also exist in that world, and that must include shipping companies that would instantly hire Uraraka to Zero-G their freighters, trucks, and planes. Even if she cannot make them float, she can still remove enough gravity from them to save the company tons of fuel. Company profit margins are razor thin.”

First off, its mentioned several times that if you want to use a Quirk for a job, you need to have a hero license. Its to make sure you know how to use your Quirk properly so you don’t end up hurting someone with your powers. So for her to even try this, she needs to go through hero school anyway. Might as well get the most out of it. Second, Uraraka cannot lower the gravity of her target. Either the object is floating or it isn’t floating. There is no in between for Uraraka.

Third, given what we’ve seen from Uraraka, there is no possible way that she could ever lift that much. She’s barely able to lift three lower numbered robots and that was only for a few seconds. So, at the most, she can lift a few tons. How exactly do you expect her to work with something like a cargo plane, which, on its own, can weight over forty five tons, not including fuel or any extra cargo?

Which is another thing I noticed throughout the article: the writer seems to severely overestimate how effective Quirks actually are. The range and scope of Quirks is much smaller then other power systems, even when compared to similar “low level” series like HunterxHunter. Like every kind of application listed goes far beyond what most Quirks are capable of, such as forgetting certain drawbacks. And that is most notable with the last suggestion.

1. Momo Could Solve Literally All The World’s Problems

I bet Kohei Horikoshi was really proud of himself when he came up with Momo Yaoyorozu’s design: No, see, she HAS to dress scantily because her Quirk is Creation, i.e. the ability to create any object she wants through her skin, which must be constantly exposed. Peachy.”

Oh boy, it wouldn’t be any sort of discussion about Momo without beating that long dead horse. What’s next? Bakugou angry? Izuku cry?

“Momo can apparently create anything as long as she understands its composition, and seeing as she’s made an ethanol spray can, infrared goggles, a lighter, and a tracker, it seems like there’s nothing she cannot make.”

Oh boy, it wouldn’t be any sort of discussion about Momo without a grievous misunderstanding of how her Quirk works either. Maybe they are in the fandom. As I have mentioned in my Momo Misconceptions post, Momo needs fat to make what she does. She’s not an alchemist where she can just clap her hands and make whatever she wants. If she doesn’t have enough fat, she cannot make items. By those very rules, some things are just out of her reach because it would just take too much fat. It’s why she limits herself to simpler items.

“Cool. MAKE US SOME HELIUM THEN. The world is running out of the gas and we need it for MRI scanners and the like. Momo could make more of it.”

Actually, we don’t even know for sure if Momo is capable of making gases. All we have seen her make is solids and a few liquids. There is the lighter she made, but that could easily run on lighter fluid.

“Or thorium. She could make thorium that we could use to make thorium-based reactors that are apparently way safer than uranium ones.”

Thorium isn’t even that rare, just as about as common as lead and three times as common as uranium. Even if it was a problem, it would likely kill her, either from burning through all of her fat or from the exposure to radiation.

“Medicine, fresh water, cheap electronics that we could send to developing countries: Momo could crank all of those out in an afternoon.“

Yes, in theory, Momo could do that, but not the extent that she would make a major difference in the world like they are suggesting. There are just more practical and better long term solutions then trying to force a single person to do all of that. It’s almost as if Momo is a regular human being who has limitations you need to keep in mind when making these ill informed suggestions.

“And while spending your life as a walking Everything Faucet might not seem that glamorous, it actually has the potential to change the entire planet for the better.”

Given the kind of set up and effort that would be required to even attempt that, I think “horrific” would be a more appropriate descriptor since it would be done to a living, thinking person.

Honestly, I think that most of these people are doing more with their Quirks now then with any of these suggestions. At least, when you actually think about the rules and limits of the characters. Sure, Inko isn’t doing much, but she is a civilian with a fairly weak Quirk. Kurogiri acts as a major player within the League, getting them around quickly and evading capture. I mean he is using his power to help out a bunch of villains, but my point still stands that he is not “misusing” his Quirk.

In fact, a majority of the people on this list are doing more to help people and save lives by being heroes. Given the limitations of their abilities, using them to stop superpowered criminals who risking damaging the people around and helping victims of these crimes is doing then any of those roles in spite of the fact that the article tries its best to downplay that these people are already saving lives. So, in reality, they are doing far more to help people then doing any of these ideas, you damp sock of a writer.

#My Hero Academia #Quirks

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skzsauce01 · 4 years

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Normal Pt 2

Description: For more skilled maneuvers, dragon shifters need a rider to help them out. After rejecting multiple riders, Hyunjin, a traumatized and handicapped shifter, is assigned to you. To add a cherry on top, you’re deaf, so how are you supposed to cast spells to free him from his limitation, let alone the anger in his heart?

Warning: some violence

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: fem!reader x dragon!Hyunjin

Pt: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5

The first assignment you have with Hyunjin comes earlier than expected, but there is no choice but to be standing at the edge of the school on a cold Saturday morning with no experience riding Hyunjin whatsoever.

The task is simple: kill at least twenty goblins within the hour to pass. Additional kills and heads of flying goblins are extra points.

As Hyunjin is waiting for the professor to finish taking attendance, he hears a familiar voice call out his name.

“Hyunjin!”

“Hi Hye Ji.”

“Are you feeling better from the fall?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”

“That’s a relief,” she smiles.

Hyunjin notices the beverage in her hand. “You like strawberry yakult?”

“This isn’t for me,” she replies with a shake of her head. “One of the proctors asked me to deliver this. Do you know where Miss L/N is?”

“Y/N? She’s getting the kill-counter from the professor.”

As if on cue, you emerge from behind Hyunjin and hand Hyunjin a metal necklace. You look at Hye Ji questioningly.

“Hi! This is for you.” She takes your hand and places the milk in it. “See you later! Good luck you guys!”

‘Thank you!’ you sign after her.

Once she’s gone, you look down at your favourite beverage and smile at the note it came with.

‘Fighting! -B.C.’

Hyunjin crosses his arms and laughs curtly at the cheesiness of it all. “We’re going to start soon,” he says while walking past you and towards the wilderness.

You aren’t sure why Hyunjin is staying human ten minutes into the assignment, but it doesn’t stop you from staring at him hopefully.

“Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles for the nth time.

When you point to his back, he rolls his eyes and takes your notepad from you.

‘I already found out about your little secret, so just stop it already.’

You look at him with a sly smile of disbelief.

‘You sing and manipulate your spells with different vibrations instead of words,’ he writes with a triumphant smirk.

The way your usual cheerful demeanor falters at his words almost makes him feel bad. Almost. Instead, he writes, ‘Just give up and stay off my back.’

You take the pad back. ‘How did you find out?’

It’s Hyunjin’s turn to be flustered; he did not foresee this question. ‘Changbin told me.’

Your grin tells him that he messed up his answer and that you realize that he’s lying. Do you really trust the older dragon that much? He looks at the note that came with your drink earlier that you’ve stuck to the back of the pad. Or did you trust Chan?

You gesture for him to keep the paper when he tries to hand it back and indicate for him to write another answer. Hyunjin feels his cheeks tingle with heat uncomfortably, so he finally turns dragon and walks ahead of you with his long strides…

… right into a goblin nest.

He had wondered why you clocked him in the head with a pebble moments before he heard the threatening screeches of the vile creatures, but now he is wondering why you followed him here, panting and bent over your knees, if you knew what he-- and now you as well-- has gotten into.

Anyone else taking this assessment would be delighted to find this many targets in one place, but not him. Goblins, although weak, are crafty, especially in large numbers. The worst of them are mother goblins, protective and merciless. Hyunjin doesn’t need to take a look around to know that they are what makes up most of the muscle force in a nest. Thankfully, they all seem to be ground goblins, meaning he can still fly up and incinerate everything on the ground before he inevitably crashes into something.

But then, there’s you. Despite his apathy towards your kind, he isn’t cruel enough to kill you. At the same time, both you and him are not getting out of this unscathed if you stay any longer, Twilight Terror or otherwise.

In his indecision, Hyunjin barely notices you signing something towards him. He recognizes the alphabet and thus the two letters you are repeating to him.

‘G-O.’

He watches your small smile-- a familiar smile, he thinks-- as your necklace gleams white and his wings unfurl. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a goblin arching her morning glory backwards with her gaze trained on you.

Hyunjin lets out a distressed roar as he feels himself lifting off the ground as you grow smaller and smaller in his field of vision. Thankfully, you dodge the first blow from the goblin, but how much more can you take, especially with the other ones quickly approaching?

Without thinking, Hyunjin swings his tail downwards and sweeps you off of your feet and onto his back. He shoots several breaths of fire onto the meddling vermins down below as you take him out of the area. His ears perk up at the sound of your voice. It’s smooth and even just like his current flight. It’s a beautiful sound, he decides as he gets lost in it, ignoring the nineteen beeps that sound from his kill-count necklace.

He flies off the edge of the forest and over the neighboring sea where the morning sun reflects orange and gold off the waters. Once out of harm’s way, you let out a peal of giggles at your and his success. Hyunjin can’t help but grin too. Part of him wonders how you are able to stay so on pitch while laughing.

Laughing.

The sounds of six years ago come flooding back into his head. Laughing. He was laughing too with his rider until he heard his turning more sinister.

“Lee?” a feminine voice calls out.

Hyunjin can’t remember who said that. He only recalls trying to move, but his muscles not listening, not when they had sworn their existence and loyalty to his rider. The weight that he had come to adore on his back became heavy and suffocating. The same weight he feels on him now.

You feel your powers losing control over the dragon, starting with the unfamiliar tail. Hyunjin veers hard towards the left due to the imbalance and crashes into the side of the cliff. Something snags Hyunjin’s purple pendant off and it falls into the ocean with a splash. Without it in his proximity, Hyunjin returns to human form as the two of you free fall after the stone.

Hyunjin grabs onto a sturdy branch along the fall, but you aren’t so lucky.

“Y/N?” he calls out. “Y/N!”

Thankfully, you quickly resurface onto a rock and wave to him with a bright smile in your annoying wet-but-still-pristine uniform.

He involuntarily lets out a sigh of relief and begins lowering himself down to meet you. When he turns around again, he sees you falling comedically backwards into the waves.

“What do you think you’re--!”

You begin swimming, and it doesn’t take a fool to know towards what. Just beneath the surface floats a gem that glows a purple hue. Luckily, it doesn’t look like you’ll have to dive deep for it.

Wait.

Stones don’t float.

It’s a sea goblin! Hyunjin watches in horror as the vermin notices you and pulls you under the waves for a tussle. You unsheath the dagger at your thigh but miss its head as you thrust forward your weapon. The goblin slams you against a sharp rock, dying the surrounding water red as a sharp pain blossoms from your shoulder. It again hurls you at another rock, this time making sure your head meets it first and knocks you out.

Hyunjin is already swimming by the time your body sinks to the ocean floor. The goblin is racing him towards you to finish the job. No, not to finish the job; it’s racing to take his necklace! Hyunjin notices a familiar glint attached to a chain wrapped around your dagger. You hadn’t missed your thrust earlier; you just had a different goal that what everyone imagined.

By some luck, Hyunjin reaches you first and ignores the sharp nails being dragged across his abdomen as he holds you and your knife against him and takes you to the surface to transform.

The goblin doesn’t stand a chance. It quickly swims deep into the ocean upon seeing the dragon, but a little water is no trouble for a Terror. Hyunjin sends a deafening roar after it and follows with a flame so hot, water evaporates immediately in its proximity.

A soft chirp sounds from his remaining necklace. Beep! Twenty.

“Y/N!” he squeaks at your unconscious form.

The only visible injury is the one on your arm, dying your white coat the same color as its underside, but Hyunjin knows how dangerous head injuries are. He puts his ear to your chest; at least you are still breathing.

If he were Hye Ji or any other dragon, he would hold you between his mouth and fly back to school, but with his tail, he will be risking giving you another concussion if he attempts that. He could make the journey alone since he is used to the falling, but that would mean leaving you alone. He slams the useless appendage against the sea despite knowing that you’d object to it if you were awake.

Then wake up and scold me! he screams internally.

To make matters worse, the water Hyunjin evaporated is already raining down on him. He shelters you away under his wings and roars repeatedly in distress.

After a solid minute, he hears a reply from an upperclassman proctor. “Is that Hyunjin?”

He lets out another roar, his feet shifting anxiously. “Yes! Yes! Over here!” Soon enough, Hyunjin can make out the familiar shape of his roommate and his rider.

Of course it's Chan.

“Where’s L/N?” Chan gasps as soon as Changbin puts him down.

Hyunjin lifts his wing up for the other male to see. As soon as he spots your form, Chan pushes past the dragon and scoops you up into his arms.

“A concussion,” Chan announces. He looks at Hyunjin. “In the case of a medical emergency, I have the right to make you terminate your assignment before the allotted time you have for your task. Return your tracker now and aboard my dragon.”

Hyunjin transforms and tosses the metal necklace to him with a dark lookl. “I finished already anyway.”

He ignores the stunned look on Changbin’s snout as he climbs on the reptile. Although offensive, he can’t blame his friend for his surprise; Hyunjin hasn’t completed a single assignment with a rider since he enrolled, but for some reason though, he isn’t proud of his new achievement. As the trio flies to campus, a heavy feeling weighs in his chest where his necklace used to hang.

The wind in his face that he used to enjoy so much now makes him sick. Your limp body in his arms only reminds him that he’s never going to truly be able to fly again. He has to admit that you are the most versatile rider he has ever seen, so if you aren’t able to control a tail like his, then maybe it is time to finally face the truth. It’s finally time to call it quits.

Your resilience both mentally and physically is admirable, Hyunjin notes when he sees you out of the infirmary and walking about in less than a week. The next thought he has is to hide so you can’t see him. However, what you want to find, you will find.

‘You didn’t visit me once in the clinic,’ you pout accusingly.

‘Why would I visit you?’

He expects you to pull another ‘Because you’re my dragon!’ nonsense, but instead, you take his hand and put something cold in it. He looks down to see his necklace that he never took back from your dagger.

To your shock, he hands it back to you. “I don’t need this anymore.”

‘What?’

‘I don’t need this anymore. Keep it. Sell it. I don’t care.’ There’s a reason why he’s gone a week without retrieving it from you in the first place.

With a tight frown, you stand firmly with your feet apart and press the notepad against his chest, demanding an explanation.

‘I’m quitting. I’m not going to be a dragon anymore. I can’t graduate anyway by the way I’m going. I just wanted’ he crosses out the last three words and hands the pad back to you. I just wanted to tell you first before leaving. Maybe that’s why he has been avoiding you.

You’re oddly unfazed by his decision. You simply write, ‘Why?’

He looks at your shoulder. The one blemish you have on your uniform resides there. The stitching is so fine, you can hardly tell it’s there, but the faint brown of dried blood is more obvious. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you.’

‘Just because I got a little hurt--’ you begin to write.

‘It’s not that,’ he interjects with a scowl.

‘Then what?’

Hyunjin huffs in annoyance. He knows you won’t give up until he tells you, so he writes, ‘Fine, you want to know why? It’s because I can’t fly. Not by myself, and not even with a rider as skilled as you. What is a Twilight Terror that can’t fly? Even a hatchling can do that!’

Your frown deepens. ‘Sure you can. We were doing fine after the nest.’

‘And then I dropped us.’

‘That was my fault! I’m not used to your tail, but we can get it with more training.’

The memories that returned that day flash back into Hyunjin’s mind. ‘It wasn’t you. I just can’t be helped.’

‘I’ve never once met a dragon who could not be helped,’ you pen stubbornly.

Hyunjin eyes your pure white pendant with suspicion but doesn’t dwell on the thought. ‘Well congratulations, you’ve met your first. Shouldn’t you be happy anyway? You’ll be assigned to a regular, functioning dragon after I’m gone and can graduate this academy without any problems.’

You scoff silently after reading his message and point to your ear. ‘Do you think I want a regular dragon?’

He bites his lip.

‘Hwang Hyunjin. Stay at Sheng at least until the New Year’s Race and I’ll be out of your scales for good. If you don’t, I’ll quit too and follow you until you come back.’

You’ve been stern with him before-- it was a tactic that you tried in order to get him to listen to you in training-- but never like this. If he were to be honest, it frightens him a little.

He pushes your notepad away begrudgingly and you know you have won. He can put up with this for three more months, he decides. Or, better yet, he can make you quit before then, and Changbin cannot say anything about it this time; he had already given you a chance to save yourself.

‘And Hyunjin? I’d be very sad if you left :(‘

He hates the way you curl the letters of his name so cutely.

It’s much easier to get Hyunjin to allow you on his back now either because you were already there before or because he’s given up on controlling his dragon form altogether. Still, he only agrees to it when the two of you are alone and out of sight from the other dragons. You get yourself and him excused from regular class-time training with the other dragons and instead move your practice time to after dusk when you and him can be alone.

With the extra hours in the day, Hyunjin begins studying fields he hopes to go into after he rescinds from Sheng Academy. Sometimes, when he walks to the canteen for a quick nibble, he finds you in a vacant classroom with a tail made of old dragon scales that’s shaped to represent his own.

Not having a fin at all and constricting one of Changbin’s is similar, yet very different. Hyunjin doesn’t understand why you are trying so hard for this when he can’t fly with his past haunting him even if you did figure out the kinetics. It’s pathetically futile and not at all heartwarming, Hyunjin tells himself.

Today is one of those days where he’s out for a snack. He spots you through the regular window, although today you aren’t alone.

What’s Chan doing here? He quickly skidaddles to a hiding spot.

The male has his hand just above his sternum like you usually do. Around the pseudo tail swirls blue magic rather than white.

Why are you teaching him how to spellcast like you, Y/N? Hyunjin curses. You’re supposed to be helping me fly again!

The tail suddenly jerks itself across the room, and Chan gives you a lopsided guilty grin. You wave it off and place your hand on his chest and motion for him to try again. Hyunjin swears he’s flexing the muscles in the area as you do so.

‘Good,’ you sign when he gets the tail to flick as intended. You try to step back, but Chan pulls on your wrist to get you to keep monitoring him. However, he pulls a little too hard, and you crash into his arms.

Chan’s Adam's apple bob up and down at your close proximity. Your lips part as a gasp escapes. The male’s eyes shift down to them and he lifts your head closer, his eyes threatening to flutter shut.

Transforming into a dragon in the hallways is strictly forbidden, but Hyunjin figures he has enough time before getting caught to set Chan’s pants on fire.

‘Our dueling assignment is in two days,’ you remind him.

Hyunjin isn’t paying attention; he’s too busy grinning at the little burn mark on the tail of your coat. He seems to be ruining your pristine clothes little by little.

You motion for him to lower his head for you to climb on, and to your surprise, he cooperates without a word today.

Did something good happen? you wonder, stroking him a few times.

The two of you have been making pretty good progress. Like with Changbin, you can get through the easy course in an acceptable amount of time, but it isn’t enough. With the assignment coming up, you want to push him a little further.

His chest rumbles as he lets out a noise of concern when he feels your increase of energy and sees you leading him towards intermediate course. You ignore him and push on.

Over the first beam, dodge the log projectiles, slant thirty degrees counterclockwise through the triangular hoop, and fly vertically up the twenty story wall.

You get through a few more obstacles with only a few hiccups, but none great enough to stop you on your track.

Clear your head, Hyunjin tells himself. Don’t mess this up. Just focus on the course!

Finally, you make it to the last challenge: a rotating hollowed out rectangular prism. The slit cut into it is barely enough to fit the Terror’s wingspan. A dragon would have to rotate perfectly in sync with it for thirty meters to fly through.

You pat him twice as encouragement and lean forward to brace yourself.

Breath…

Hyunjin enters the tube with his eyes trained on the exit, leaving the rotation up to you. The spin is against the natural direction of the way Hyunjin’s tail tilts, so you amp up your magic to a level according to your best judgement, hoping the leeway space is enough for any fine tuning.

Thirty meters. Twenty. Fifteen. Ten… Seven… Five, three, two, one!

You pump your fists into the air when Hyunjin’s tail clears the last of the intermediate course, and the male jerks up his head to let out a celebratory roar. The motions combined with you forgetting to turn back down your powers tosses you off his back, and the two of you tumble onto the sand below, laughing and cheering.

“Oh my claws, I can’t believe we did it!” Hyunjin laughs carelessly, unaware that he’s transformed and rolled on top of you with his body held up by his forearms.

Maybe not all riders are so awful. Maybe.

His smile warms your heart; it’s a sight you don’t see often, but one you can get used to. Has his cheeks always been so fluffy? You reach up to cup them to see if they are an illusion.

Hyunjin blinks in surprise at your touch. It is only then that he realizes how close you are and his brain malfunctions.

‘Pretty,’ you form the word soundlessly with your lips.

It was a mistake for him to look down at your lips, he realizes with a huge blush. He quickly pushes himself off of you and scratches into the sand, ‘Sorry.’

You shake your head and begin brushing off your clothes, hoping that the stains won’t be too obvious. That’s two marks on your uniform that he has attached fond memories to, Hyunjin realizes. He wonders how many more he can get on you.

~ ad.gold

#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #stray kids #skz #dragons #stray kids fantasy #stray kids senarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #dragon!hyunjin #stray kids chapter #deaf reader #stray kids fic #hyunjin fic #20200714

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raetos · 3 years

Text

Are We Dead Yet? - Part IV: Rescuers Down Under

(( Co-written with @darkestfable . @argonas / @avehi-the-adamant / @thefugitivemango , @codegemini , @sylaess for chatacter mention))

~*~*~

Landing in The Maw was more of a bang than a whimper. Fable’s soul had been torn apart between worlds, searing pain and deafening screams pulling him apart until he hit soil with an unceremonious thud. The blood hunter’s body should have been broken from the impact, but as the dust settled around him Fable realized that he was...alive? No, not alive, but not resting.

His ears rang, his head was foggy. As if every system was restarting from the ground up. The high pitched ring was subsiding, being replaced with the growls of distant thunder. The sound rumbled deep in his body before it faded away. Ash blew around his body from the constant wind, a dull roar that he could now make out between the bellows of unseen storms. A louder noise reached Fable’s senses now, and at first he thought that it must be higher winds. They wailed and moaned, echoing with metallic screams before fading. It wasn’t until the hunter opened his eyes and sat up that he realized what the sound actually was.

Souls were crying out, their wordless pleas echoing across a landscape that was far from barren. The sound was horrendous, heart wrenching. In the distance, Fable could make out what he assumed was a river with at least one bridge that crossed over. It would be a rough trek, but the jagged stone that shot up from the ground all over the landscape would make for ample cover.

Dirt crunched and plumed out from each step, a dim sound in comparison to the constant suffering all around him. The closer Fable got to the bridge, the more clearly he could see that it wasn’t a river of water at all. The mist did little to hide the floating shapes that flowed downstream, and now their screams were even louder.

They were anguished souls, cursed to the river by whatever had upset the balance.

“Fuck…” Fable muttered, pressing his back against a large, sharp stone. He couldn’t do this alone.

~*~*~

Raetos wasn’t certain how long it had been since he’d separated from Avehi and the rest of the group. He felt guilty for sneaking off after she’d helped smuggle him into the Maw, but in his growing frustration, he’d been worried any words shared would have left them parting on angry terms. Avehi was determined to help Argonas and Sylaess find Sinafay, pushing Fable’s rescue as a secondary goal. Raetos couldn’t have that. He knew Sinafay and Fable wouldn’t be in the same place, and waiting around to rescue his lover was absolutely unacceptable. Especially now that he witnessed the Maw and it’s horrors for himself.

Finding Fable had initially seemed like an impossible trek, given the Draenei had no idea where to start looking. The moment he’d spotted the shade hounds, however, he knew what to do. He watched them with their rider, hunting down wayward spirits. He wasn’t certain if they could track specific spirits, but it was his best shot. With all the commotion caused by the Ebon Blade, Raetos found himself able to move about easily enough.

That is, until the distance between them became too great. Sneaking around was nearly impossible now. Despite his best efforts to remain unseen, the denizens seemed to detect him the moment he’d step into their vicinity. He already held a number of bruises and minor cuts from a few encounters. As it was, he couldn’t go much further alone.

He perched on top of a stone cliff, preparing to jump down onto the hound’s back. A leap of faith… that is, until a dark, winged form swooped in and grabbed him by the throat. It flew upwards, lifting him up into the air with a surprising amount of strength. The Lightforged reacted quickly. He didn’t have time to get carried off to who knows where. One hand gripped the dark angel’s wrist while the other came up to shoot a beam of Light energy into its eyes. The figure screeched as it was blinded, giving Raetos the opportunity to grab his sword and stab it into the creature’s wing. He gasped as he was released and plummeted down. Light! He hadn’t thought that part through!

Again, he lost his breath, this time, from the impact of hitting the ground, feeling ribs, and even his crest, crack on impact. Blue blood oozed out from the wound, and also on various scrapes across his face and body from the landing.

He hissed, gritting his teeth as he forced himself up. To say he was in a lot of pain was an understatement, but adrenaline still courses through him, giving him the push he needed. A good thing, too! His hand had barely taken hold of the hilt of his sword before he heard a howl and looked up ahead of where he lay. The shade hound and rider he’d been stalking were now charging straight at him.

~*~*~

In his slow advancement around the inhospitable land, Fable had heard hounds howling in the distance. It hadn’t been until he looked down on them from a cliff that he’d seen one of the shade hounds chasing what looked like a member of the Ebon Blade, but...glowing? There wasn’t enough time to process whatever it was, but Fable decided to act anyway. He still remembered how to fist fight.

With the rider hanging back a bit to let the hound bite their quarry, Fable made his way around behind them as silent as he could. He’d be dead(again) if a weapon was swung his way, but it could be worse, right? The blood hunter waited quietly until the rider raised his weapon to take aim, and waited until his attention was occupied.

Fable lept on the hunter’s back and wrapped one arm around the man’s neck, the other at the top of his head. A quick twist should do it, and it would show him just how human or undead these soldiers of the Jailer were. The creature clad in armor simply crumpled from the surprise attack, and the elf went down with him, landing on top of the heap. The metal bit into his skin, but his attention snapped to the Ebon Blade soldier and the hound.

It wasn’t long before some of the Ebon soldier’s more particular traits gave off his identity. Raetos had shed the heavier plate armor, but still wore the dark colors and tabard of the Ebon Blade. Even so, with the gold plated tail and hooves, long blonde hair and signature sword, marked him otherwise.

Unfortunately for the Lightforged, he’d barely had time to get up and run before the hound was on him, pinning him down and snapping its jaws down around his forearm.

“Hey hey! Don’t be rude!” He growled.

But as suddenly as the hound was on him, it froze. Thankfully for Raetos, killing the hunter, severed the connection to the hound. Raetos blinked, confused as he was released and the creature backed off and just… stood there.

“Uuuh, good boy?”

He winced as he got up, hand clutching his side as he looked over towards the hunter’s body. He gasped, eyes wide as he just stared at Fable for a moment.

“Hey… no fair,” he grinned wide, though his eyes watered as a flood of emotions overtook him, “-I’m- supposed to be the heroic figure here.”

Realization flooded Fable at once, and he felt his own eyes well up with relief. The hunter was sure he was imagining the gold, and he’d seen Ebon Blade members with blonde hair. But not that shade of blue. Not accented by gold and glowing with the Light. His breath hitched when he saw that grin. It was like falling for the man all over again.

“You are, love. You are,” his voice shook as he stepped over the crumpled hunter, closing the distance between him and Raetos with a swift stride.

He could tell that his lover was bleeding, hurt. For the moment, it didn’t matter. Fable reached his arms up around Raetos’ neck and pulled him down for a desperate kiss. Guilt chewed at the back of his mind, and just the memory of where he was stabbed was enough to make the mark feel like it was on fire. But none of that mattered right now, he had his lover back!

“Sorry I died, love. It uh...wasn’t supposed t’ happen that way. I jus’... You kept your promise, ‘n I fucked up.”

Raetos choked out a sob as he wrapped his arms around Fable. Physically, it hurt like hell due to his injuries, but the relief of having his mate back in his arms pushed it all into the back of his mind.

“Shhh,” he managed, burying his face into his lover’s hair, “It’s okay… it’s okay. I’m here… and I’m not leaving without you.”

For a moment he just lingered in the embrace; in that sweet moment of reunion, before he released his grip slightly, happy tears rolled down his cheeks as he cupped Fable’s face in his hands to just stare at it. He’d missed those blue eyes, that nose, his lips. Lips he couldn’t help but claim again with his own.

His words were swallowed up in the kiss, and for a moment their reunion was the only real thing in the world. Fable carefully pressed against Raetos as he kissed him, hands gripping at the poorly fitted armor. The blue blood from his lover's wounds wet his hands, and that was what brought him back to reality.

"I wanna keep kissin' you, but we gotta get outta here. I uh...ain't got a clue what's what. Please say you got a plan," Fable looked around, expecting another hunter.

Raetos couldn’t help but give a bit of a pout as the kiss was broken. It seemed he had completely forgotten where they were for a moment. Fable’s words were enough to snap him out of his trance.

“—Oh! Uh… yeah! Totally,” he nodded, “I mean… sort of?”

He hadn’t exactly planned further than getting into the Maw and finding his mate. Now that he’d achieved that, he had to play it by ear. He sheepishly brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“We weren’t too sure what to expect. Came down here with Avehi, Argonas and another one of those deader knights. Syl… something… Anyway, they were— Ow…”

He winced as he leaned over to take his sword. With the moment of euphoria passed, the pain from his wounds became more and more evident. They had to get back to the others soon, so that he could treat them.

With Fable’s hand in his, and his sword in the other at the ready, he led them up a steep slope, towards higher ground.

“Anyway… they were going to find Argo’s wife, Sinafay. She’s been here a long time, I guess, so they needed to get to her fast. I split off to come find you,” he glanced over his shoulder, offering Fable a smile, before moving on to a more dreaded yet important subject, “Hey so… what happened? Any idea who did this to you? Gotta hunt them down and destroy that dagger they used on you. Some cult ritual artifact bullshit, I guess. Only way to get you back to your body on Azeroth is to destroy the weapon that killed you.”

Adrenaline was fading, and Fable could feel his own body aching in kind. So much travelling and skulking about had left his thighs exhausted. He paused at the top of the slope when Raetos started talking, and the hunter’s ears pinned back at the question. It wasn’t a look his lover had ever seen on his face, because it wasn’t one he wore often.

Shame.

The elf cleared his throat, trying to choose his words. Were it anyone else, Fable would simply try to deflect and turn the conversation on whoever these Argo and Sinafay people were. And Syl. All names he wasn’t familiar with, not really. No faces to put to them. His cheeks burned under the dark skin. Raetos could feel the tension in Fable’s hand as it rested in the larger man’s grip.

“I was doin’ a dig t’ kill time ‘n this lady showed up. She uh… I dunno what happened but she jus’ got into my head ‘n I couldn’t stop. Raetos I… I was gonna do it. Her. If she didn’t stab me…” his gaze was on the ground. Fable wouldn’t meet his lover’s gaze.

Raetos’ brow knit into a frown, at first, in confusion. His head tilted slightly to the side, as it often did whenever he was trying to figure something out. It felt like his head was in a fog. He had to replay those words in his head a few times. Then he thought maybe they didn’t mean what he thought it did. Or maybe the wailing wind distorted the words? No. Fable’s expression confirmed it well enough.

“...Oh…”

It was all he could think of as a reply. For once, he wasn’t quite certain what to say. He wasn’t angry… that much he knew. He and Fable hadn’t exactly determined boundaries, even after Raetos himself had almost done the same thing with Avehi. He felt hurt, to be certain, like a sharp pain in his chest, but his lover looked guilty enough, he didn’t want to express it and make him feel worse.

“Hey,” his hand squeezed the Blood Hunter’s, “We’ll get through it, okay? Together.”

He offered a smile, showing he meant the words he’d spoken. Fable obviously regretted what he’d done, and not only because it ended up getting him killed. Raetos wasn’t the particularly jealous type, but he couldn’t pretend the thought of his mate lying with another person on his own didn’t bother him.

“If you think this makes me love you any less, you can kick that thought from your head. I’m not going anywhere… Afraid you’re stuck with me, Love. You know… as long as you’ll have me.”

Fable felt tears well up again, his voice catching in his throat as he reached up to wipe at his eyes. It left streaks of dirt on his face, and didn’t hide the emotions that had bubbled over. All the hunter could do was sniffle and squeeze Raetos’ hand.

“I don’t deserve you,” he managed to say, wiping at the tears.

“Don’t say that,” The Draenei’s voice shook as he pulled his mate in for another tight hug. He was feeling rather light headed, and his legs felt weak, so he kneeled down, making it easier to hold the elf close. A hand came up to brush through Fable’s hair as he buried his face in his lover’s neck.

He was well aware that they had to keep moving. The trail of blue blood would be picked up sooner rather than later. But he was so tired…

~*~*~

#Character Story #Fable Darkvale #Raetos #The Maw

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evolutionsvoid · 4 years

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"Finally got the courage to talk to a washed-up fool like me, eh? You just had to know the sob story of this old pitiful drunk. Why does that idiot waste away his life in this crusty old bar? What's his story? Failed dreams? Lost love? Well, if you are buying, then perhaps I will share that tale with you. I am sure you already know that I used to be a sailor, any fool can tell you that. I may be a drunk, but I ain't stupid. I hear the talk, all the stories and jokes about me. Most of it is pure rubbish, brewed by a bunch of blind idiots who know nothing! Oh they laugh and guffaw at me, but that is because their skulls are too thick to understand! They say I am afraid of the sea! A sailor scared of the ocean! How they laugh at such an idea! But that is what they say, and you pay no mind to that! If you want the truth, then you listen to me! Am I afraid of the ocean? Well, I....you know....it's a....bit more complicated than that. It's not the waves or storms that keep me rooted to this seat, it is....well, probably best to just tell you." "It was three years ago, when I was sailing upon The Great Skua. We were running the trade routes like normal, crossing the endless sea with a hold bursting with goods. Our destined port was days away, so it was just business as usual for all of us. We kept the ship in tip-top shape and let the winds and waves carry us home. We had nothing to worry about, as our route was a safe one and we were miles from any shady territory. That night, though, we awoke to our ship suddenly tossing and rolling about, throwing the whole crew to and fro. The night watch was screaming their lungs out up above, ringing the bells and raising all kinds of hell. We all assumed that it was a freak storm, and we rushed up top to take our positions. But when we got onto the deck, their was no storm. The night sky was clear and calm, and the wind was nothing more than a soft breeze. There were no omens to be found on the horizon, the whole sky was filled with nothing but stars. A night sky like that one would be most welcome on most voyages, but the sea was all wrong. The waters churned and boiled around us, waves slammed into our hull and battered our ship about like a toy. We all struggled to keep control and stay on course, but no one knew what was happening. How could the sky be so calm, yet the ocean be so chaotic? We wondered if we were near a reef, but we were still out in the open ocean. Perhaps it was the wake of another ship, but we were the only ones for miles around. Well, we thought we were..." "The man in the crow's nest spotted it first, a dark shape and a faint glow far off in the distance. We all thought it was a lighthouse, but that made no sense. There was no such thing to be found in this part of the route, unless we were terribly off course. Some of the crew believed that to be the case, and that the lighthouse should be used to help gather our bearings. We didn't have time to argue or make a plan, the violent sea had us in its grasp and pulled us towards that shape. But as we fought against the waves and water, we began to truly see what was out there. That light and shape in the darkness were not far away, and they were a lot bigger than we had imagined. We tried to flee, but the ship was at the mercy of the sea. We could only stand and stare at what was before us. It is a sight that I will never forget." "You hear other sailors and folk talk about sea monsters. Big ol' octopuses and nasty serpents. Well, what we saw out there made all of those critters look like baitfish. I couldn't even begin to tell you how massive that thing was! What we saw sticking out from the water dwarfed our ship. Hell, we could have sailed right into its mouth without hitting a tooth! It was like a great serpent, but...it wasn't. We could only see so much, as we only had starlight and our own feeble lanterns. Parts of its coils stuck out of the black water, while the rest of it stretched endlessly into the dark depths. It seemed to be coiled up like a snake, with its head sticking out from the middle. What we could see of it was all wrong. Parts that shouldn't be and pieces that didn't belong to any fish or whale. The sheer sight of it almost killed me outright, I thought my heart was going to explode! Some screamed, some cried and some prayed. We all believed this to be the end. The ocean would serve us to this monstrosity and we would be devoured in an instant. But that isn't what happened. Or ship got caught in some current, and we were saved from colliding with one of its massive segments. I don't know how that even worked, it was like we were caught in some invisible grip. We couldn't move, so all we did was stare upwards with mouths agape. We were waiting for it to strike, to smash us to pieces, but it didn't. By the gods, it was somehow worse than that."

"Despite the churning sea and the colossal leviathan, it was....peaceful. It hardly moved, it just floated there. Even as the water boiled around it, it just calmly sat there. It couldn't be sleeping, as we saw the glow of those enormous eyes. It couldn't be hunting for food, as it was ignoring us and looking in the completely wrong direction. That titanic head was not watching the ocean or searching the depths, it was looking upward. It took us a moment to understand what it was even doing, but then the chilling truth dawned on me. It was looking at the stars. Now I know you are wondering why that would scare me, but I have to ask you this: You ever see a fish do that? You ever see any beast do such a thing? I have sailed the ocean for decades and have walked many different lands and I can tell you that such a thing does not belong in the realm of beasts. No whale admires the stars, no bear ponders about the heavens. Yet, here was this vast creature, looking up into the night sky and doing...nothing. Just watching the heavens. We didn't know what to do, what to even think. Everything seemed frozen, like time had turned into eternity. I don't know how long we were trapped there, watching this impossible stargazer, but it felt like days. All was silent and still, and then it moved." "Perhaps one of us made a noise, or maybe it knew we were there the entire time, but it turned a part of its head and looked at us. Great glowing orbs that shone brighter than any lantern, and they stared right at us. Many of the crew fled from its sight, throwing themselves upon the floor or scrambling behind any crate or barrel they could find. Me? I couldn't move a muscle, I was still as a statue. As its huge eyes looked upon us, I stared back at it and.....gods....gods, no....I....we...we saw each other. Our eyes met, it looking at me and me looking at it. I don't even know how such a thing can happen but it did. Our eyes met for just a moment, but in that split second I understood it. Do you hear what I am saying? Do you even understand?! I saw its face and I knew. I could understand what it felt, I could read its eyes, despite the fact that they were easily twice the size of me. It was like reading the face of a friend or lover, where you understand them without even a word, but for some reason I could see into the eyes of that...thing. I saw it, I understood it and I will never forget it." "After that brief, horrible moment, it simply stared at us for a few more seconds and then it just...left. There wasn't word or a sound, it just turned away and sunk back into the ocean. If the sea wasn't already thrashing about, I bet that thing wouldn't have created a single splash or spray. Its movements were so controlled and slow, it slid into the dark water with impossible grace. We watched as the coils unraveled and slithered, and they followed the rest of it down into the abyss. And like that, it was gone. A creature taller than a cliff and longer than town just disappeared without a trace. Seconds after the last of it melted into the dark, the sea grew still. The water was suddenly like glass, matching the serenity of the stars above. It was so calm, that we could hardly believe what we had witnessed. How could such a thing even exist in a peaceful normal world like this? It was impossible! Yet, we all saw it, there was no denying it. For a few minutes, we just stayed there in silence, not knowing what to do with such terrible knowledge. But then we all snapped to, rushed to our posts and pointed our ship at the nearest spit of land we could find. We shot straight to the nearest port and left our boat there. I rushed to the nearest bar to drown the memories out and I have been here ever since. Thought that enough whiskey and rum would stop my shaking hands and troubled mind, but unfortunately it isn't that easy." "They say that the ocean is a strange and foreign place, and that is why it scares so many of us. They are mostly right on that, but they are missing one vital piece. We wish that the ocean was truly bizarre and incomprehensible, that it was impossible to understand. That would bring us some comfort, as we could write it off as place where we just don't belong. An impossible realm like that is certainly scary for some, but let me tell you that it pales in comparison to looking into this strange world and finding a shred of familiarity within it. To dive into the abyss and see a piece of humanity amongst it all, to understand that a part of us belongs down there. Be it our past or future, we can look into the depths and realize we are connected, we are destined. That is what I saw that day, and that is why I dare not venture back." "I don't know what that thing was and I am pretty sure that even if I lived for ten more lifetimes I still wouldn't know. It will plague me for the rest of my years, but that isn't what truly haunts me. Its the sight of it staring up into the endless heavens and knowing that it was wondering the same exact thing..." ---------------------------------------------- Though June isn't technically over yet, this is the last entry for Kaijune from me. I think I busted out a good amount for the month, and I think this fella is a good way to end it. This is actually a redraw of an old drawing that was brought to my attention by Xhodocto385 . A piece that is so old and ungodly terrible looking that I am not going to even link it. Just take my word that this is a serious improvement. Since not much was shown or even mentioned of this beast, it allowed me to change and add a lot of things to it. And by adding stuff, I mean to its design, because my description stills explains squat about it. Also with the themed months coming to an end, I can get back to posting some regular stuff! Which means more monsters! How different!

#sea monster #monster #creature #kaiju #kaijune #kaijune 2020 #art #drawing #sea serpent #Trypophobia #body horror #don't know if those two apply just doing it in case

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alfwriteshizz · 3 years

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Graverunners - introduction

Graverunners (original content) // short story // trigger warnings: none

Welcome to Rythin, a world made of stories, the one true magic.

---

The world was changing once again.

This was something it did frustratingly often. All across the fractal continent, change was stirring in the air, coiling with phantom potential like a spring. The days drew long and the nights cold. The suns sunk lower and the shattered moon rose higher. People generally became more irritable, but they usually did a good job of that themselves, so nobody paid much attention to that.

For a great, seismic, titanic change was about to occur. A change that would devour the hearts of those who witnessed it. A change that would unite several souls from their quiet and not-so-quiet corners of the world and send them across the continent to fulfil one task.

The king, you see, was dying.

Kings die with alarming frequency. Countless stories are filled with kings who lived, fought, loved and died under a thousand horizons. You’ve probably heard half of them, so you know how this should work. A kingdom cast into chaos, a noble heir ready to seize their birthright, the fate of a nation hanging in the balance. All the usual stuff.

Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of those conventions this time.

The world we are about to enter is not like the others you have may have walked before. It is not formed of the will of gods or the dying scattered breath of stars or anything inbetween.

You see, this world is formed out of stories.

Let me explain. Stories are a fundamental force of nature. The one true magic. They have the power to redefine reality and shape our lives. But normally, stories are bound by certain rules. Though they can seep into our minds and equip us with emotion, their influence is limited. But all around us, stories are crackling through the atmosphere like ozone. They lie in wait like the latent electricity of lightning, looking for a path to ground themselves and discharge their power.

And like any energy, they cannot truly die.

And this mass of storytelling has culminated over the years. Slowly, surely, it has coiled and massed in one not-quite-place that lies beyond our understanding of how ‘where’ works. And as this cluster of raw, concentrated potential story energy has grown, so has its appetite. It has reached out and grazed the walls of reality and dragged a dozen ‘normal’ worlds into its maw. It has formed something resembling a place only because it has to, and it has done so with incredible reluctance.

Let us take our first glimpse at this anomalous place. We see mountains, first: verdant peaks topped with ice and veiled in cloud. That’s normally a good sign. Only, they aren’t where they’re supposed to be. And they’re impassable. When people say mountains are impassable they mean that they’re exceedingly difficult to pass. But here the land that should lead up to the mountains just does not exist. It seems to blur at the edges and drop away like fog. The mountains themselves also often spiral and twist in the air, seemingly oblivious to gravity, often breaking free of the frail earth altogether.

We see rivers and canyons and oceans and lakes. All the usual geological highlights. But they seem to be blurred at the edges, mashed together. Occasionally a valley will jut into a cliff at an odd angle, bleeding into the rock like a piece of mismatched china hewn to its cousin, much to the confusion of the creatures that inhabit it.

The creatures themselves are probably worth a mention. Each is as disparate from its fellow species as can be imagined, as though they were each drawn by a different hand. Some will crawl across the stones. Others will simply float above them or scuttle through them. They are the survivors of a hundred invasive species that all found themselves firmly outside of their carefully imagined ecosystems and began eating each other just to see if they could. None of them were designed to live here, and unfortunately all of them do. Some of them are exceedingly large. Some of them are impossibly small. A small minority of them defy several laws of physics, and it’s vital that you don’t think about those ones too hard. It’s very important that reality doesn’t take root here for too long.

But against the odds, time’s steady accretion has hardened this place into something resembling order. The vast gaps between each fragment of world have slowly dwindled and faded away almost entirely. Still there, but not as angry. The intelligent species amongst them have explored, found each other, warred, made peace, made war again, and, inevitably, cohabited. A dozen different technologies have been traded around and amalgamated, and a few magic systems have beaten each other into a bloody quantum stalemate.

But for the most part, each snippet of story, each nation, has been content to stay within their borders. While the people that live there have been excised from their home worlds, their fundamental code - the train tracks of their stories written in their souls - are largely intact. And so they continue on forming a life for themselves as people or daemons or drakes or leviathans or figments or constructs or beings made from concentrated storytelling power tend to do in these situations.

But, inevitably, there are some who have fallen through the cracks.

People whose stories have been left unfinished. Who have been half-written, half-imagined. Those who have been written for one purpose and meant for another.

But the vagrants of this world gathered together in all their forms, and built a gentle kingdom in the cracks between the stories, and found a monarch to lead them who was crowned not by fate but by hope. They exist outside of the realms of stories as we know them, and that is what gave the fledgling kingdom the ability to survive in a world dictated by these stories.

And at last, we come back to our mortal king.

For while kings and queens are common here as they are in most corners of reality, they are alike in the sense that they are crowned by tradition and mandated by fate.

But now the king is dying, and there is no prophecy to mandate the fate of his nation. There is no blueprint of destiny, no grand sweeping tale ready to take place. The stars are blank.

There are only people, and the promise of what might be.

And people rarely do what is right or what is fated even at the best of times.

So you can imagine how messy this is going to be.

---

#writblr #writing #original content #writers of tumblr #fantasy #graverunners #alfs-oc #hey guys!#this is the intro to my big heckin wip graverunners #it's been cooking for a couple years and is still incomplete #but I'm gonna post snippets of it for you guys!#hope you enjoy!

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bluebellhairpin · 5 years

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Ocean Eyes

Arthur Curry/Aquaman X Siren!Reader

A/N: Lol, I finally watched Aquaman. The eye candy in that, wow lemme tell you-! - Nemo

Song: ‘ocean eyes’ by Billie Eilish

Summary: After being washed into a lagoon after a storm, you’re found by a half-bread Altantean called Arthur. He helps you escape, but not after some cost.

Masterlist

The ocean was your home.

The people in it were yours. Even if they didn’t want you, they were still yours.

In your world of seas, the Atlanteans were the ones that ruled it, and as far as the line of power went, you were pretty low on it.

Atlanteans were up top, then fishermen, sea creatures, sirens like yourself, then the creatures of the deep. The only thing on the list of power after you was the monsters, which didn’t give your kind a good name.

You were a siren, one of the creatures of the not-so-deep deep, and no one liked you. You were all bumpy scales, long dark tails, pointed teeth, spiked fins and big black eyes. By appearance along you weren’t approachable, and by the grizzly stories told of your kind by both those on land and in water you were marked as completely wild.

But as the tides changed, a storm brewed, and you met someone who completely changed that.

----------

You woke groggy. The water around you was warm, and moving slower than normal. You could see the startings of light coming from above the surface. That already set off alarm bells in your mind, not used to being so close to the surface meant your eyes weren’t used to it. The fact the space you were in seemed rather small, also meant that you’d have nowhere to run if a human came.

You started exploring the place you’d found yourself in, and decided it was a lagoon of sorts. While some areas were shallow, others were deeper and lead to caves. But in short you were stuck. The storm that got you in the lagoon caused waves that were much bigger than they were now, and you had no way of climbing over the sand or jumping the rock walls without being seen.

Obviously you started to panic, if any humans found you you’d surely be killed or shipped off to live in a glass container for other humans to laugh and oogle at.

A splash from the water nearby made you snap out of your panic, instead moving to find someplace darker to hide.

You had no idea what caused the noise, but being so close to land meant it could be a human. And it was a human, but something in your mind told you he wasn’t going to hurt you, not unless you gave him a reason to.

You kept watching him from your hiding spot, watching as he moved permissively through the water as if he belonged there. Once he spotted you, you swam off, slinking back into the darker parts of the lagoon in hopes that the human didn’t follow. The problem was that he did, and did so rather quickly.

Not only did he follow you were no free-diving human would, but he seemed to be breathing, and it only worried you more that he then spoke.

“What are you?” he asked, letting himself float in the middle of the slight trench in the lagoons center. He let you circle him, and he looked tense as if you might be a predator, you didn’t want him to think that so you stopped in front of him.

“You’re an Atlantean?” you asked, ignoring his question in turn for your own. He smiled and shook his head, eyes squinting as he tried to look at you in the darkness.

“Not really.” he started, “I’m a half-bread. They don’t like me too much.” You made a small ‘oh’, letting out a breath. “So are you going to answer my question?” he asked, smile turning smug.

You moved forward, letting the little light that reached where you were hit your head and upper-half. You saw him shrink back slightly, looking at you in disbelief before cautiously moving forward to look at your closer.

“I’m a bit of a monster.” you said, tone light seeing as you felt he could take a joke well enough.

“I’ve seen monsters.” he said, shaking his head again. “You’re not half as bad as what they are.” As he finished speaking you moved around to circle him. Now getting closer you found how different you were to an Atlantean.

For one atlanteans didn’t have scales or dorsal, pectoral and pelvic fins. From what you saw, the color in their eyes was less, and barely any of their teeth were as sharp as yours. And with your tail, you were almost a half length longer than he was.

“You’re nothing like the fishermen.” he mumbled, and you shot around to meet him face to face, now a lot closer than before.

“Don’t,” you started, eyes narrow compared to his wide ones, “ever compare us to them. It’s unfair.”

“Us? I still don’t even know who you are.”

“A siren. Whoever is left of us stay hidden, it’s not like I’d expect you to know.” you said, moving away into the shadows again.

When you turned around to check on him, he’d disappeared.

----------

You didn’t see him for another three days, not that you expected to see him at all due to your abrupt conversations end before. It was either he didn’t visit the lagoon often or you were too busy trying to find a way out before humans found you.

As the three days passed, more and more humans appeared at the lagoon shallows during the day, you guessed since it was summer that they went near water to cool down like other land animals.

Your time in the lagoon was wearing thin, and with every day that passed you felt more and more likely to be found.

When the half-Atlantean came back, he seemed surprised to see you.

“What’re you still here for?” he asked, starting the conversation with another question. You shrugged.

“Too little ways to get out. Too many humans. Too little area for error. I could go on, but I won't.” you said, swimming in circles to ease some of your nerves.he nodded to your words as you spoke.

“How’d you get here to begin with?”

“Storm. High tide. Too close to shore like the idiot I am.” he thought at your words.

“I could help you get out.” he looked at you, eyes clean and understanding. “Tonight.”

----------

You waited under the surface near one of the rock boundaries.

He’d explained everything to you that afternoon, telling you his plan and his name.

Arthur would alert you to him being there, then you’d be free to make the jump over the wall. You’d felt you could jump before, but the wall was high, and sharp, and you didn’t want to get spotted. So Arthur would keep watch, direct anyone who came close away, and meet you once you were over the wall.

It was a seamless plan. Perfect in a way. But you should’ve guessed with a creature like you, after having met someone as kind and judge-less as Arthur, that something was set to go wrong.

And it did.

Not only did another summer storm roll in, dry and thunderous and billowing wind faster and faster and the minutes ticked on, but someone did come. They came to the lagoon, and they’d come for you.

Not that you’d noticed they came, not until you were above water, halfway over the wall.

You were shot down from your jump to freedom and open seas, landing on the rocks at an awkward angle that caused your arm to hurt, and a searing hot pain in your tail that definitely wasn't there before. Through the wind, the rain, and the waves you could see Arthur on the banks nearby, beating a man again and again while two more lay on the sand getting drenched with rain.

With your chest heaving and tail completely aching, you managed to pull yourself into the water with a dull splash, welcoming the cold and salt like a long-needed embrace.

With a heaving chest, you swam your was to a cliff face, near enough that Arthur would find you, but not close enough that the others would until daylight.

You clung to the rocks like a lifeline, and in a way they were, seeing as without them the waves could push you right back into the lagoon from where you came.

You didn’t even notice Arthur was with you until he tried to ‘fix’ whatever was causing you all the pain. Letting out a yelp, you let go of the rocks, sliding back into the water with Arthur following.

“(y/n), look at me.” he said, grabbing your face in his hands to push your eyes to look into his. “You got harpooned. I’m gonna need you to be really brave.”

----------

When he told you to be brave, you expected him to just pull the harpoon out of your tail. But when you woke, you found that you were somewhere you’d never seen before.

When you managed to sit up, the view from in front of you was something you’d never even imagined seeing. So much for the Atlanteans not liking Arthur that much.

You moved, finding your tail healed enough that you could swim at a slow pace, and made your way to the window. Below creatures of all kinds swam, buildings of all sizes were around, and you wished so much that you’d be allowed to stay, even for a little longer. But you figured that now you were awake the Atlanteans would want you gone.

A door behind you opened, and in came Arthur, along with another Atlantean, a fisherman, and some guards. You swam closer to the opposite wall, trying to put distance between yourself and the group. Your entire demeanor was tense, fin flicking back and forth, telling them you’d want nothing more than for them to go away or to simply be released back into the open ocean.

The fisherman swam forward, holding a hand out to you in a way someone would help a creature that was scared.

“I am Princess Scales, of the Fishermen. I want to help you.” Scales said, speaking softly, “You already know Arthur. With him is Nuidis Vulko. They won't hurt you either.”

“I can tell. Those behind them I don’t think are as harmless as they’re trying to seem.” you said, following the wall and swimming a little closer to the group.

“(y/n), please.” Arthur said, moving to stop a few breaths in front of you. “We both know you could thrash them, but give them the benefit of the doubt.” he added, quietly smiling at you. You looked over his shoulder at Vulko and the guards, sending a sharp-toothed hiss at the latter before turning back to Arthur.

“Can’t I just go?” you mumbled.

“Well,” Scales started, almost anxiously wringing her fingers together as she looked at you, “Times have changed, and thanks to Arthur the Atlanteans all want to meet you, They-”

“So they can poke fun and mock me. Study me like the monster I am. Cage me just like a humans would if they’d gotten to me before he did.” you spat, pointing at Arthur, now understanding why he was being so nice. “I should’ve known you’d be just as bad as everyone else.”

“That’s not it-”

“It’s not? That what it sure looks like!”

“Arthur.” Vulko said, stopping Arthur before he spoke further. “(y/n), I understand that you could be feeling trapped, but like Princess Scales said, times have changed.”

“How much?”

---------

After a lengthy discussion about morals and times changing, you were reluctantly pulled along to a much bigger room. One whose walls were lined up to the brim with Atlanteans who were waiting to see you. You looked ahead and saw that there was a throne, but it was empty.

“To whom am I to speak to if there’s no one here?” you quietly asked Arthur. He smiled at you, and then you realized.

It all made sense. Surely Atlanta wouldn’t have let you in with a half-bread unless they were special. Arthur was their king, he could do with you whatever he wanted.

“People of Atlanta,” Arthur started, addressing the crowds and yet looking at you the whole time. “Meet the siren.”

#arthur curry x reader #aquaman x reader #arthur curry imagine #aquaman imagine #dc x reader #dc imagine

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motley-box-rose-1 · 3 years

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“Why are they in Maine?” someone asked me.

Summary: two socially awkward witches from the big city take a weekend to practice their broomstick flying. It involves far more talking and emotions than one might expect.

For Rona, it’s a chance to share a passion with her new friend.

For Naz, it’s chance to experience the culture she was never exposed to, and to understand the mysterious person she’s begun to form a bond with.

Basically a rough draft of an in-between scene in a story I’m writing. Kind of boring, not very eventful. Someone challenged me to write it on a deadline, and this was the result.

Giving credit where credit was due, Rona had to admit that, if nothing else, Naz was persistent. Couldn’t pilot a broomstick to save her life, but persistent.

Rona tried to hold onto that thought, a reminder, perhaps, of why her friend was worth this trip in the first place, when suddenly Naz sent them into another plummeting, mid-air corkscrew. The force of the spin was as jarring as it was familiar, the bite of wind and rushing blood as well known a sensation as blinking or holding a breath. She could tell that the ground was approaching at an alarming rate, a fact noticed also, it seemed, by Naz, whose panicked shriek was only somewhat heard over the whipping wind.

More instinct than conscious action, Rona reached around Naz’s waist to take control of the broom handle, gloved fingers tightening around the bumpy grain of the wood, steadying their course just before they met the ground. She let them float there for a moment, gently bobbing over a veritable sea of wild grass and foliage while Naz, shaking from the exertion, caught her breath.

The other witch released her white knuckled grip on the handle. She coughed twice into the crook of her elbow, and then shakily turned around on the broom to face Rona, who adjusted her own position in kind.

“Woo!” Naz finally uttered after a moment. “That sure was- that was-“ she broke down into breathless giggles, as much out of nerves as excitement, and flashed the other girl a weak but sincere grin.

Eyeing her sweaty face and cherry tipped ears, Rona asked, “You’re not about to pass out on me, are you?”

Naz waved a hand at her, smiling good-naturedly. “Oh no, I’m just-just” she paused for another breath, still oddly pleased. “Well, you know.” She gestured at her plus-sized body, certainly larger than Rona’s own stick-figure frame, and then leaned in as if to share a secret. “I’m a little out of shape,” she fake-whispered. “The excitement is just starting to get to me is all, and well. . .” Naz glanced down to her grip on the broom, where Rona caught sight of the other’s trembling arms.

The older witch groaned. “I thought I told you to relax your grip.” She let out a huff. “Look , I admire the enthusiasm-“

“Mortal terror, actually.”

“-but you’re never going to get anywhere if you’re constantly holding the broom handle like you’re trying to choke it to death. We’re witches, Naz. We laugh in the face of gravity. Just. . .” She reached out with her left hand to adjust Naz’s grip. “C’mon, you’ve got to calm down. Loosen up your joints. And your fingers! Be strong, not stiff. You want as much contact with the handle as possible- channels the magic better that way- thumbs on top, like that.”

Rona leaned back to inspect the other girl, tilting her head at different angles. “Yeah, that’s better I guess. But you’ve gotta correct your posture. I’m tired and aching just looking at you.” She made another motion with her hand. “Lean forward- a little more, yes - and bring your feet back too.” Another scan with her eyes. “Hm. . . Pretty good.”

Naz made a face. “This feels terrible.”

Rona waved her hand. “Part of the process. Trust me, a few more months of practice, and you’ll hardly even have to think about it. After a year it’ll be like sitting in an easy chair.”

“Months? A year?” Naz gaped. Probably out of anticipation, Rona surmised.

“Better than you thought, huh? The ancient and noble art of flying on a broomstick, passed down by our ancestors for generations, and it’ll all be taught by yours truly, a veteran flyer.” Rona placed a hand on her chest and bragged, “I won the annual festival race twice back in my hometown, you know.” Mazerine, for the record, took broomstick races seriously.

Naz only stared back silently, her smile so stiff it reminded Rona of the rigor mortis one might see on a zombie.

“Hey, you know it won’t be a total slog, right?” Rona couldn’t bear to look her in the eye when she admitted, “You’re the first actual friend I’ve had in ages. I wouldn’t make this a complete bore for you.”

Naz’s lips finally parted, her face by far too nervous and sweaty to be mere exhaustion. “Uh, Rona, I don’t quite know how to tell you this- and Heavens know I’m not intending to hurt your feelings, but I didn’t . . . uh, that is to say, I wasn’t planning to really. . . Oh, Goodness.” Naz brought her hands together in front of her face, as if in prayer, and said, “Give me moment.”

Naz was a rather awkward creature, Rona surmised, although that was the extent of what this conversation had made clear to her. Perhaps she was having confidence issues, or wasn’t sure if Rona would be up to the task after all. Well, that notion would have to be fixed.

Rona leaned forward as close as she could, looking Naz straight in the eyes, attempting to write as much passion and sincerity on her face as possible when she said, “On my honor as a witch, Naz, you won’t be getting off this broomstick the same as when you got on. I. Will. Help you.”

Somehow, Naz was starting to look even more nervous and sweaty. “You know what,” she started. “We can continue this chat later. I want to focus on the flying for now.”

Rona sat back, overjoyed. She snapped her fingers and then pointed at Naz. “You won’t regret it! Honest to the moon, you’ll end this lesson flying like a champ.” Rona couldn’t conceal a grimace when she added. “I know a bunch of those posers in the city like to tout their ‘speedy’ one month introduction courses, and their ten-step plans - as if that’ll make anyone a freaking genius on the handle- but I actually know what I’m doing. You asked the right lady to teach you this, Naz.”

As they both got into position, Rona preparing for Naz to take control, she exclaimed, “And hey, this next try might even be your best yet!”

————

It wasn’t.

Naz couldn’t remember a time she’d been so dizzy and nervous. Dizzy, because spinning around in every possible direction, mid-air, at risk of life and limb, wasn’t exactly first nature to her, and nervous because, though Rona was a thoroughly sweet and helpful person beneath her prickly exterior, she could also be alarmingly intense. Especially, Naz had found, when it came to sharing a passion of hers.

Of course she did her best to take the excited instructions in good stride (she had, after all, asked for lessons for a reason), but at least a dozen more failures later, both of them were feeling rather low on both spiritedness and energy. Rona seemed to take the physical exertion well, sweating and red-faced though she was, but Naz could hardly get her hands into position anymore, she felt so worn and unbalanced.

Rona had shifted behind her then, conveying, somehow, a sense of bashfulness that normally seemed so at odds with her character. She had asked if Naz wanted to go somewhere, for a rest and some food she explained, and, well, Naz hardly had a reason to say no, did she?

As they flew towards the town that Rona had mentioned, the grassy field that they’d been practicing over gradually gave way to a sandy beach, then a series of rocky cliffs, until finally they flew to a small fishing village nestled amongst a peaceful cove.

The sight was more captivating to Naz than if someone had taken the time to describe it to her in loving detail. The floating cities of Galum, Upper Grenn, and Talley, the only places Naz had ever known, were unlike anything this little village had to offer. The buildings were stout instead of towering, wood and stone in place of glass and metal, little boats bobbing in the water like rubber ducks. Even with the overcast sky and the extra chill in the air, she couldn’t help but find it so. . . so picturesque. Like something she’d find on a postcard somewhere!

Naz had seen pictures of places on the Lower Ground before, of course, but seeing an actual town, on the actual earth, in person, was something else entirely. Her heart went out to the trusty camera back at her apartment, which she’d stupidly left behind in her haste to leave.

Resisting the urge to twist around so she could peer at Rona’s expression, whose hands were stretched around Naz’s waist to grasp at the broom handle properly, Naz pondered over whether the other girl was similarly affected. She was taking them in a circuitous route over the buildings and boats, close enough that one villager even offered a friendly wave from the ground (to which Naz eagerly returned, of course) but the ultimate destination was unclear.

The answer to the other witch’s route soon became apparent, however, when Rona slowed the broomstick over a specific building.

“Hey, you’re not allergic to seafood or anything, are you?” asked Rona loudly, speaking over the sound of the waves and wind.

“Not that I’m aware?” Imported food was expensive in the city, and besides that Naz wasn’t sure she liked the taste of it anyway. She was willing to try it here though, for the experience if nothing else.

“Good enough,” Rona answered, and immediately the broomstick plummeted, coming to float barely a few feet off the ground.

Naz, having stiffened at the drop, turned to slap Rona’s arm. “Don’t do that,” she scolded.

The other smirked. “Oops.”

Naz tried to maintain a stern expression, but couldn’t stop her lips from quirking into a tiny smile as well, despite the initial irritation. Rona could be so ridiculous, she thought.

She hopped onto the wooden walkway, only a few feet from the ‘Crab Shack’s’ entrance, never imagining before that a steady place to set her feet could be so relieving. She might have kissed the boardwalk, if common sense didn’t warn her of splinters, filth, fish guts, and who knows what else.

Naz turned to her friend, still sitting on the broomstick and floating just above the wooden planks, and held out a hand. Rona must be well practiced at getting off her own broomstick, Naz knew of course, but offering a bit of help seemed like the right thing to do.

“Oh?” Rona looked down at Naz’s hand like it was a foreign object, or a beast never before encountered. She hesitated in taking it for a second, but grasped Naz anyway, firmer than she had expected. “Uh . . . thank you,” she said, awkwardly.

Then, so smoothly that Naz suspected she’d needed her hand even less than previously thought, Rona slid off the handle and lifted the broomstick upright in one single, slick motion. Her satchel, expertly tied to the broom long before even the start of their lesson, was soon relocated to her shoulder.

Naz looked at her and noticed that, held upright, the broom in all was about the same height as Rona herself, possibly more if the birch twigs and handle weren’t so crooked. It made for a rather striking picture, and, once again, Naz was struck by Rona’s old fashioned flair, the way aspects of her dress and posture so often reminded Naz of old illustrations and dusty historical books. Was this how witches acted and lived in their home country, Naz wondered, or was it just Rona?

The other witch always managed it with a bland look on her face, unaffected and unaware it seemed by the oddity of her own nature, but in Naz’s mind it seemed akin to bringing back the so-called ‘art form’ of witchcraft itself, almost a picture to go along with the stories of old that Rona had once shared on a rainy evening, waiting for a storm to pass. Naz pondered on whether Rona would ever submit to posing for some photos of herself. She took pride in her appearance enough, but so often had trouble sitting still, or resisting the urge to rush after whatever idea was ricocheting about in her head.

“Well?” Rona asked, nodding her head at the entrance.

Naz jolted out of her thoughts. “Oh, uh, ready when you are!” she replied, awkwardly adjusting her goggles.

Rona made a curious face at her, but strode in without another glance, broomstick tucked close to her side. The door noisily swung shut behind them, and a rush of unfamiliar smells and sounds flooded Naz’s awareness. The scent of seafood, citrus, and tartar sauce was thick in the air, a jukebox in the corner playing a song she’d never heard. It was a cozy atmosphere, although besides a fisherman drinking a beverage by himself, and two tourists chatting at a center table, the place was rather empty.

At a bar devoid of either customer or barkeep, a tiny bell sat on the wooden countertop. Rona strode towards it purposefully, reached over to grab it, and rang the bell twice, quite clearly. No one showed up. Rona rang the bell again, somehow even louder. Their only response was the jukebox changing songs.

Seeming neither irritated nor in a hurry, Rona started ringing the bell continuously, as if she was not only in the right, but fully entitled to ring that bell however she wanted.

Naz felt herself blush, mortified. What if the owner was busy? Before she could even make a comment though, someone from the back rushed out. He was a middle aged man, balding, wearing a tacky sweater, an apron, and a rather displeased frown. He looked at the two a moment, thoughts whirring, before stepping forward.

“Take a seat wherever you like,” he instructed evenly. “Menus are by the door,” and he pointed there at a leather pouch on the wall holding, as he had said, menus for the restaurant. Right after, he bustled back through the door he’d come through, busy it seemed with something he considered more important.

After grabbing one each, they took a seat at a booth table by a small window. Rona swiped her finger over the seats, muttering something under her breath about stickiness, before placing her broomstick upright beside her and carefully sliding in. Naz, although wearing white overalls that would arguably be harder to clean, seated herself with much less concern. Clothes weren’t a glaring priority for her and, despite the color, Naz didn’t tend to wear materials that wouldn’t come clean with a good wash or two anyway.

Almost by chance, Naz’s eyes were drawn to Rona’s satchel. There wasn’t much time to look at it before the other witch placed it below the table, sandwiched snuggly between her dark boots. The two of them took a moment to look at their own menus, a list more or less of fish sticks, fries, and sandwiches, when Naz’s mind unintentionally drifted to the thought of Rona’s bag again.

It wasn’t an overly pretty or ugly thing, by all rights rather unassuming with its pale grey color, the fake leather worn but well cared for. However, something about the bag called to Naz’s attention nonetheless. The young witch couldn’t remember an instance when she hadn’t seen it on Rona’s person, slung over her shoulder or clasped in a hand. Even on their flying lesson it had been tied rather expertly to the broom stick, perfectly within Rona’s reach. It was always with her, as much a part of her ensemble as her lucky hat or her boots, and yet somehow at odds with her clothes too. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the incongruity of the bag, the way it felt more like a rushed afterthought compared to the meticulousness that otherwise overtook Rona’s traditional sense of style.

It was an odd train of thought to have for a friend, Naz thought, let alone a person she’d only known for a relatively short time. Was it odd though? Naz didn’t have much experience with making friends. Rona, from what had been observed, didn’t seem to do such a great job at it either. Naz stared intently at her menu, a picture of a crab cake seen but not appreciated, when a smack jolted her out of her thoughts.

Naz looked up. Rona had slapped her menu on the table and was now leaning back with an arm stretched across the booth, unconcerned with the noise she had made or the supposed messiness that she had complained about before.

“Soooo . . . “ she began. “Any idea what you’ll be getting?”

“Oh, um.” Naz quickly scanned her one page menu. “The fish sticks sound good,” she said, not managing to sound very convinced of that idea.

“Eh, they’re okay.” Rona rose forward slightly to tap at an item on Naz’s menu. “Personally, I like this a lot better. It’s not too fishy or drowned in sauce either. Unless, you like that sort of thing?”

Naz glanced at the item in question. Fresh crab meat with a choice of any side. Naz looked back at Rona. “Have you been here before then?”

“Oh, a few times,” she answered nonchalantly, fiddling with a ketchup bottle, as if traveling outside to villages on the Lower Ground was something people like them made a habit of. Although, maybe it was? There were those two tourists a few tables away. . . But, no, their style of dress and manners reminded Naz more of the people who lived around Big Water, a smaller place that floated somewhere else off the coast. Clothing styles were very distinctive, between floating cities and smaller towns.

Naz wanted to ask more questions of Rona, when she’d come here last, where else she’d gone, why did she travel so much in the first place, but was interrupted by the arrival of the middle aged man they’d met before.

“Your order?” he uttered gruffly, holding a small notepad. Naz wondered if he’d be less abrupt if Rona hadn’t rung that bell so much.

“Cherry soda, your number four, easy on the lemon juice,” Rona rattled off easily. “And . . . Uh, Naz?”

The younger witch snapped to attention. “Oh, right! I’ll have the, uhhhhh. . .” she worried her lip, hoping she wasn’t irritating the man too much. She scanned the menu, once, twice, three times, before landing on Rona’s suggestion. “Crab meat!” she said, a little too loudly. She pointed and showed him the menu. “This one.”

He nodded, wrote something down on his notepad, and left for the back room again without another word.

“Well, gee, he’s a real smooth talker, huh?” commented Rona, nodded her head after him. Her lips pursed after a second. “I wonder if management’s changed. I don’t remember him from my last visit,” she pondered aloud.

Naz hummed softly, agreeing about his demeanor but not wanting to say it aloud. The urge to ask Rona more questions about her travels persisted, but the idea of actually saying anything was daunting. The chance to inquire felt as if it had passed by. She fiddled with the paper napkin set on the table, feeling uncharacteristically sullen. The day’s failures seemed to be catching up finally.

Her mood must have been easily visible, because Rona next tried to grab her attention. “Hey,” she started, voice unusually soft and quiet. “You okay? You feeling, um, nauseous or something?”

“Huh? Oh, no that’s-“ Naz shook her head, trying to perk up. “I’m fine, really.”

“Well, yeah, it sure looks it,” she answered sarcastically.

“I just mean, I’m, well. I’m tired, that’s all.” Naz’s gaze drifted to window, where she noticed that the sky was becoming even more grey and overcast. Naz rested her chin in her hand. “It’s a little rough getting beaten up by a broom all day, you know.”

Rona sat back. “Is that what this is about? Oh, c’mon, everyone is terrible when they first start out with something. I’ve loved flying since I learned to walk, and you wouldn’t believe how many times I lost control, or fell straight on my face.” Rona pointed at herself. “I even broke my nose once, and don’t even get me started on the rest of my injuries.”

She felt irritation then, at Rona trying to talk her out of a mood she didn’t understand, but Naz felt a little silly about it all too. Embarrassed, that the other’s words made some amount of sense. But still. . .

“I don’t expect myself to be perfect, “ Naz finally said after a moment of silence, still looking out the window. “Or at least, I know it’s not the proper standard to hold myself to. It just feels. . . I suppose I’m just. . .”

“Just?”

“I’m just sorry,” she said, and the words felt like pulling something sharp out of a wound. Outside, it finally began to rain. Naz turned to look at the other witch again.

Rona shifted on her seat. “Sorry?” she echoed. “What kind of answer is that?” Her tone was angry, but Naz knew that it was really just her being confused.

“It just feels like such a waste,” she explained further, sounding glum. “You brought me out here to flail around on a magic stick, and, on top of that, you’re more committed to me learning how to do this than I am. You’re so strong, and smart, and talented, being able to fly the way you do, and I’m not even sure I can do this at all,” Naz confessed, and it felt taboo in that moment, to admit such a thing, when she usually tried so hard to always ignore the very idea of not being able, of failing something completely.

Naz looked away then, but sensed that Rona was pressing the heel of her palms into her eyes. A sign of frustration, if Naz ever knew one. She wondered then if she had ruined, not just their day and any future lessons, but also their friendship as a whole, something already unfathomably precious and dear to her, but still so fragile in its newness.

“Just admit it,” Naz finally said, mood further soured. “You expected me to pick this up right away, and now you’re wondering if I’m even a witch at all. Because I’m not, not magic enough, or don’t dress like you do, or- or-“ Naz waved a hand. “Some other, ridiculous standard I don’t know about.”

“What? No! That’s- I don’t-“ Rona adjusted her hat. “Alright, maybe for the first ten minutes, but I mean, I never doubted your heritage, Naz. That’s terrible. And, in hindsight, it was pretty ridiculous for either of us to expect that you’d pick it up on the first go anyway, witch or not, you know?” She reached a hand across the table, an intentional invitation or an accidental one, Naz wasn’t sure. “I’d never want to place those expectations on you, about what a witch shouldn’t be, or what you have to do, or anything else like that.”

Rona started to look very uncomfortable then, eyes darting away, words ineloquent but sincere. Naz didn’t doubt in that moment that Rona really did know what she was feeling then. The other witch made the act look so effortless, so seamlessly apart of her. She dressed traditionally, and knew about all the old fashioned customs that Naz had never had a chance to learn, but maybe their experiences weren’t so unlike each other, when it came to trying to live by certain standards.

Rona cleared her throat. “I think we both get enough expectations from everybody else so. . . I just, what I’m trying to say is that I. . . I don’t want to make you, um. . .”

Naz placed her hand atop Rona’s. “I know what you mean.”

Rona looked back at her, at a loss for words, and then down at their hands. A question formed on her tongue, she was going to-

“Your order,” the man from before interrupted, holding up their meals in some type of plastic basket stuffed with paper.

The two of them straightened up. “Thanks,” Rona muttered.

“I’ll be waiting by the front when you want to cover the bill,” he informed them, and then once again retreated elsewhere.

They looked at each other, and then Naz broke the silence by picking up a condiment of some kind. “Have you tried this sauce before?” she asked, and the ensuing conversation, now much more lighthearted, took up what would have been the rest of their lesson. They would have to do this again sometime, Naz thought. And next time, she’d remember to bring her camera.

~~ end~~

#original writing #fiction #witches #magic broomsticks #fluff #rough draft #work-in-progress #SOUL THREAD

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saltylikecrait · 5 years

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No Fear of Depths - Merman AU

For @finnreyfridays; I planned to post this at the beginning of the year, but then I saw that “oceans” was going to be a theme and decided to wait on it.

I’ve never been a huge fan of mermaid AUs, so I was surprised when I came up with this idea and I found that I really enjoyed writing this one because it’s a simple and sweet romance story.

This one is a little long, so if you’d rather read it on AO3, the link is here.

The cold air made her feel sluggish as she wandered the beach, staring down at the sand as she walked it up and down. The wind hit her uncovered face, but with her hair secure in her usual three buns, it wasn’t a nuisance, but she definitely planned to curl up by the fire when she got home. Some days, no matter how many blankets she piled on or how long she sat by a fire, Rey never felt like she recovered from working outside all day. Her feet always seemed to remain ice cold when the rest of her was warm.

But this was all the work that could be done in this lonely town on this isolated island. If you weren’t lucky enough to run your own shop, you were outside on sand and water, employed by the only man around that gave anyone jobs. There was no complaining and no one would back you if Plutt cheated you out of your wages and hard-earned meals. You worked, or you didn’t eat, that was how it was around here.

Clamming wasn’t bad. Sometimes her legs hurt after standing and walking all day, but she’d rather be on land than out in deeper waters when everything was freezing. Too many people wound up dead in fishing accidents – her parents included. At least Rey found interesting things that washed ashore in her search. She had a collection of interesting shells and agate, once she even found a glass float with colors that reminded her of a tide pool full of life. That stayed hidden away at her little home, under the loose floorboard where she hid the few valuables she had. She could sell it and make some good money off it - it had obviously been made offshore by the hands of a talented glass blower - but Rey didn’t have many nice things and even she believed that a poor girl deserved something beautiful to look at.

She came across what she was looking for: two small holes parallel to each other in the wet sand. They’d be easy to miss if you weren’t looking for them, but Rey was good at her trade. Taking her rake, she scratched at the surface of the sand, digging deeper into it with each swipe until the domed top of a shell peeked through. Then she used the rake to scoop it up, shaking as much sand off the clam without dropping it back on the ground.

Putting it into her bucket, she realized that she had just collected enough to take back to Plutt’s stall and call it a day. Plutt would give her the small amount of wages she earned and any catch from the sea that either wasn’t good enough in quality to sell or from a catch that was surplus. There was always something.

So, she headed back to town, not talking to anyone on her way there. People didn't care about the poor orphan girl in sun-bleached linen.

Without a word, she dropped her bucket down in front of her employer and dumped the contents into another container. After looking over her finds and nodding, pleased with her work, Plutt handed her an envelope with a few krona and told her to pick out her dinner. She was happy to see that today’s catch included trout, meaning that someone had ventured up the river today. They might have been bony fish, but she thought they were tastier than some other local catches.

Before she went home, Rey went back to the beach. The other employees preferred not to come out here because of all the rocks, which made it perfect for her, and not just for clamming. In a niche where the rocks of the cliffs weathered away from the tide and wind, a shallow half-cave had been formed. Rey kept her sad excuse of a rowboat there and so far, no one was wiser to it. She couldn’t afford to keep it at a marina and it was too small for her to do more than just float close to shore. When the weather wasn’t too bad and the waves weren’t too rough, she would sit in the shallows of the sea in her rowboat, which she had found abandoned on this beach. Sometimes, she would imagine having a bigger boat and voyaging away from this place.

But today, as she was drifting and daydreaming, the sound of frantic splashing broke her from her usual peace. Looking around, Rey spotted the source and her heart fluttered in a panic.

It looked like something was entangled in the line connecting a crab trap to a buoy. She had heard of whales being the unfortunate victims of this fate but wondered if a whale would come this close to shore. She bit her lip as she tried to get a better look.

Suddenly, something emerged from the water, reaching to get free of the line. A hand. A human hand.

“I’ll help you,” she called out, then directed her rowboat towards the buoy.

Reaching the man, she leaned out of the boat to the line where his arm had been caught. She wasn’t sure how he did this to himself, but luckily, she had a small knife on her for such a thing. It wasn’t the first time she had to cut a wire or rope away. With a pull on the line, it snapped and went slack, freeing the arm.

Then she turned to look down in the water. “That was close,” she said, preparing to offer the man a ride back to shore.

He was young, and maybe about her age – she had always been terrible at making guesses. His face was handsome, she thought to herself before feeling embarrassed. His skin was darker than anything she had seen on the island, and his eyes, also a deep brown, were wide with shock.

But what startled Rey the most wasn’t the human part. No, frightened, the man dived into the water, revealing a fish-like tail and dorsal fin following behind him. His dark skin was the perfect tone to vanish under the murky water and within seconds, he was gone.

With her expression probably matching the young man’s – merman, her mind corrected – Rey briefly wondered if she was still daydreaming or if she had accidentally fallen into the water and was seeing a dying dream. As she rowed back to shore and walked back home and made her dinner of the trout, Rey realized that she probably hadn’t been dreaming this up. There had been stories like this for generations, though she had never heard a story about male merfolk. The stories had always talked about beautiful, naked, half-fish ladies.

Now, Rey had her own story of a beautiful, naked, half-fish man and she would likely tell no one about it.

The next day, as she was digging at a clam bed, the merman returned.

There had been stories of creatures like him luring humans close to the water and dragging them under to drown them, to devour them, so Rey was wary. She walked close to where he waved to her from the tide pools and observed him.

When she wouldn’t come closer, even as he urged her to, the merman stopped and nodded as if he understood. Then he held something up, waved it at her, placing it down on a rock tall enough for him to reach but one that stayed out of the water. He gestured for her to approach and backed away himself.

Curiosity winning over her caution, Rey scooped up the object on the rock and realized that it was an oyster shell that had already been opened. She unhinged it to find a single pearl sitting inside.

No one had given her a gift before. Not since her parents died. Her heart warmed in her chest.

“Thank you,” she told the merman, loud enough so that he could hear her.

He shook his head, then crossed his arms across his chest before uncrossing them and holding his arms out, palms up and open. It was a gesture of thanks, one she translated to, “No. Thank you.”

“Can you speak?” she asked.

The merman shook his head.

“But you can understand me?” she clarified.

He nodded in a positive.

So that meant that if she wanted to talk to him, they were strictly on a yes/no basis. She wasn’t sure if he would stick around, but he didn’t seem like any threat to her.

“Are you from around here?” she asked, coming closer to the water.

He shook his head.

“OK… Do you have family around here?”

Again, another shake of the head.

She wondered if he was lonely being the only merman around the island, though she wondered if perhaps merfolk were solitary creatures. Getting a better look at his lower half, she thought that his bright yellow scales, flecked with areas of silver and black, resembled a tropical fish more than any species around here. Local varieties usually came in dull, neutral colors to hide in the dark, murky waters of the ocean.

If he was from warmer waters, why would he come to this island in the north, of all places?

Something told her that no matter how many questions she asked, a simple yes or no would never cover it.

The merman visited her every day and soon she became so accustomed to his companionship that her day felt off without his presence. Obviously, he wasn’t much of a talker, so Rey made conversation for the both of them. He would lounge in the sun or help her look for clam beds when the tide was low and he was comfortable enough to drag himself up to the beach for a little while. And as she talked, he would listen. Sometimes, he would nod or shake his head. Sometimes, he would make this breathy laughter when she made a joke or said something nasty about Plutt.

They ate their meals together in the shallow cave where she hid her rowboat, the merman hoisting himself up to the edge to sit next to her as he ate his catch for the day. His diet consisted of fish and sea plants, and everything was eaten raw, which Rey found a little gross, but that didn’t seem to phase him.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she finally said one day. “But I thought of a name to call you. I know it’s not your own, but it feels wrong to not call you by something.” She felt a little bashful. “So I was thinking of calling you Finn. It’s not creative and pretty common around here, but I always liked the name.” Then she suddenly laughed. “Also, you’ve got fins.” She made a gesture to mirror the way his tail moved in the water.

A wide array of emotions transitioned across his face. Surprise. Gratitude. Dare she hope, joy? His only response was a smile as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, shocking her in the process. His lips were cool against her skin, but she welcomed the gesture.

She guessed that meant that he was fine with the name, and she tried to keep herself from smiling shyly over the fact. Every time she thought of him, it was with nothing but affection. When she voiced her frustration with the men in town not leaving her alone, Finn looked crestfallen and angry. There was something in his eyes when he gazed at her, but she couldn't find the right word to describe it. All she knew was that she liked that look and wanted Finn to keep looking at her like that.

A month after she rescued him, Finn presented her with another pearl, and every month after he would gift her with another. She joked to herself that soon, she would be able to fit in with the rich women from the mainland that sometimes visited.

During this time, Finn and Rey tried create a series of hand signals to communicate with each other. It was trial and error most days, leading to a bunch of laughs, but they were getting a system down.

When summer rolled around and the waters warmed up, Rey dipped her bare foot into the ocean and decided it was safe enough for her to swim with him.

“I can’t go as far as you, or as deep,” she told him, “but shallow water and for a short time won’t hurt.”

Finn waited patiently as she shucked out of her clothes. He held out his hands to her as she entered the water in her undergarments.

When they were deeper into the water, Finn pointed down in a repeated tapping motion to try to tell her something.

“Under?” she asked.

He nodded.

Taking a deep breath, Rey slipped her head under the water and watched as Finn followed. Still able to stand up, he made sure that their linked hands remained at the surface.

“Are you cold?” A warm and deep voice filled her ears, the accent unfamiliar to her. She gasped and swallowed water as she choked.

Finn’s eyes widened. “Oh, no.” He led her upper body back to the surface.

Coughing on sea water, Rey tried to catch her breath. “Y-you can speak-k underw-water?” Her nose and throat stung.

His grin was a little sheepish, and he shrugged.

Well, it wasn’t like she would have stuck her head under freezing water before. Even in the spring, the water was too cold. She wouldn’t have figured that out on her own, probably.

“So, can you tell me how you came to be here now?” She took a deep breath again and plunged her head in.

Rey heard his voice again. “I… well, I left my people. They… they did some terrible things… killed a lot of animals. I wasn't born to them, but I was forced to fight for them. And when I had the chance, I swam for it but I had to get as far away as possible. I’m – what’s the word?” He trailed off.

Surfacing again, she asked him, “A defector? Is that the word?” She heard the term get tossed around by the locals, usually with disgust because it implied cowardice, but Rey didn't think Finn was a coward. There was a war going on beyond the island, she heard, fought by many countries on multiple continents, but that's all she knew. News from the mainland didn't travel to the island quickly, if it did at all. What she was told was that the island was so isolated and poor that there wasn't a threat that the war would come to them.

Thinking about it for a moment, Finn nodded his head.

“How do you understand me? What’s your real name?”

Underwater, he replied, “I spent time around humans before. We listen to your language, learn it. That’s how we know if trouble is coming.” He looked a little sad as he said this. “But my name is not something I think you can pronounce…”

She would take his word for it.

On the surface again, she took another deep breath and waited for her lungs to stop hurting so much. “I don’t think I can keep holding my breath like that over and over yet, Finn. It kind of hurts. Maybe for a few times during the day?”

Rey had an idea to simply lower one of her ears underwater this time. Finn caught on.

“That’s sounds like a good idea. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He paused for a moment as if hesitating, gripping her hand in his. “I really like you, Rey.”

“I like you too, Finn," she replied as he surfaced again, and then feeling a little brave, leaned him to kiss him on the lips.

For weeks now, she wondered what they would feel like on hers. Cool, soft, a little wet with a taste of sea salt. It was a chaste kiss, but when she pulled back and looked at him again, he was smiling.

She waited for him to do something to tell her that he approved of that. Instead of gesturing her back underwater, he placed an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek before he kissed her lips again.

It was two months later, when the waters were at its warmest all year, that Finn asked Rey if she would try to swim with him a little farther than usual.

Now that clamming season was over, Rey had taken a temporary job in town working on the fishing ships, sometimes going out with them. That meant that she didn’t get as much time to see Finn during the day, but she knew he was always close by. He knew why she was terrified of going so far out to sea and he hoped that his presence there would assure her that he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her, even if they couldn’t talk or touch each other during those times.

It was the start of her weekend and the days were longer and the nights were warmer, so even though she was nervous about deeper waters, she also wanted to spend all her free time with Finn. She told him she would go with him to wherever he wanted after she had eaten her dinner.

It was a short swim to the other side of the beach where humans couldn’t walk to. Surrounded by water, Finn made sure that Rey kept her head surfaced until they came to a cliff. He pointed down, telling her that he wanted to dive.

She was improving time with how long she had to hold her breath each week and if Finn felt that she could do it, she trusted him. He wouldn’t let her drown.

Once she was fully submerged, she felt Finn grab for her hands and placed one on the dorsal fin and the other on the side of his abdomen, then, once he was satisfied that she was holding on and not going to accidentally get separated from him, he swam forward. With him propelling them both, the swim through a small cavern went fast. She wouldn’t have managed to get there that quickly by herself.

He was careful not to bump her into the side of the cavern, which sloped upward until the water ended and Rey could breathe air again. She looked around to find that the cavern continued to slope slightly before it flattened out. She found a few items that caught her interest. On the slope lay a bed of seaweed and on the flat surface, and she saw a couple of old bowls filled with clams, a strange-looking spear, and two fur pelts. One of the pelts was a deep brown and lay on the ground like a rug, and the other was a sleek black and looked like it had been altered to fit like a coat. She recognized the speckles on the brown one to realize it was seal fur.

“Do you live here?” she asked.

Finn tugged her hand again, and she lowered her ear to the water.

“Yeah,” he said. “Found it when I first got here. There’s a lot of fish around this part of the island and I prefer to not sleep out in the open. Especially when winter gets here.”

“Are the pelts to keep you warm, then?”

He nodded and then helped her to the dry part of the cavern, pulling himself up party so that his tail still lounged in the water.

They spent the evening talking and playing around. Finn even showed her some shells and stones that he had found around the island, finding that the aesthetic of them suited his tastes for the cavern. She asked him about the pearls, which he brought to her each month without fail.

“Pearls are special gifts,” he told her. “To thank someone for a great service or given to the person you love the most.”

That gave her pause.

“The first time you gave me one was out of gratitude for rescuing you, right?” she asked.

Finn nodded.

“And after that?” She now had six pearls in total lying at home in a special box hidden with the glass float.

He put his hand gently to her cheek and looked her in the eyes. After a lingering moment, he arched a finger back and forth to beckon her to put her ear to the water.

“I love you, Rey.”

He kissed her in a way that they hadn’t quite tried yet. It was passionate and warm, even as Rey half-lounged in the cool water, against the slope of the cavern. The difference in it set her stomach fluttering with want. She had felt this before, when she thought about Finn and kissing him, but never with this intensity and urgency.

When she peeled off her wet underclothes later that night, she realized what was going to happen. The way Finn looked at her revealed skin, gazing at her with a tenderness that no one else had ever glanced at her with, Rey realized that she was glad she planned to stay in the cavern for the night. With certainty and a case of nerves, she approached the water again.

The next morning, she found that Finn had wrapped her up in the brown pelt sometime in the night and she turned her head to find him asleep beside her on the bed of seaweed that he had made for himself to help keep his skin damp. She brought the fur closer to her face and sighed at the softness against her skin. Close to Finn and content, she lulled herself back to sleep for a few more hours.

Summer came and went, and in the fall when Rey went back to clamming, the ocean became too cool to swim in again. She missed spending nights with Finn in the cavern, but at least now she could see him while she worked.

“I’ll figure out a way for us to talk to one another,” she told him. “Something that can hold water up to my ear and you can talk through it. I won’t be able to hear you in the winter. I’ll freeze.”

Finn’s face fell, and he pulled the black fur coat more securely around him. He had worn it more as the waters cooled, but Rey also wondered if there was something he was trying to hide from her. She wouldn’t mention to it directly, but she noticed that he was eating more and collecting more shellfish than he had in the earlier months. He was gaining weight. That wouldn’t bother her so much since he was already thin to begin with, but the sudden gain was clear, like his body was now trying to store fat. She had seen animals undergo a similar transformation around this time of year and it made her suspicious.

"Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked.

With a sigh, he beckoned her to the water.

“I’m going to be gone for a while…”

He then explained that merpeople hibernated in the winter – at least, the ones from colder climates did. It would only be until spring, he promised. When the waters warmed again, he would be back, but the entire winter, he’d either be sleeping or eating. In fact, hibernation was like a constant state of being half-asleep. It would go by quickly for him and he probably wouldn’t remember what he had done when he was awake during the time.

But being alone during the coldest, darkest months frightened Rey, and that thought shocked her. Until this year, she had always been alone. A couple of months would be nothing and Finn would be back for the rest of the year.

Still, she burst into tears, alarming Finn, who flopped onto the beach to be with her. He gathered her into his arms and kissed at her tears. She burrowed her face into the warmth of the seal fur while Finn stroked her hair.

Later that evening, Rey confessed that if she was just a little stronger and if her bathtub was just a little bigger, she would bring Finn into the warmth of her home for the winter. He laughed at the idea and told her if the situation were plausible, he would let her in a heartbeat.

Autumn went by too quickly.

Finn made sure that Rey could survive the winter without him, fretting over every detail despite knowing that she had always been able to make do all the years before she had met him. Food was plentiful around here in the winter. The ocean provided the island with all the humans needed. She had also recently been able to buy a warmer coat that was lined on the inside and waterproof on the outside. He told her to sell the pearls that he presented her each month if things got too tough, and the idea upset her. Those pearls meant far more to her than just material riches.

But as winter drew closer, Finn became more sluggish by the day. If the sun was out – which was a rarity now – he would lounge on the larger rocks of the beach to catch a little of its warmth. At other times, he would lay on the edge of the beach where Rey hid her rowboat and wait for her to finish with her work for the day. He simply didn’t have the energy to help her anymore.

The day he looked like he could barely stay awake, Rey knew it was time. After she finished work for the day, she sat with him in her arms and waited for sundown. Every once in a while, kisses were exchanged, and they found that no matter how much they touched one another, it didn’t feel like enough.

She brought her bag closer and pulled out the glass float she had once found on the shore. “I found it here years ago and couldn’t bring myself to sell it,” she told him. The colors of the glass matched the colors of the calm sea at the moment. “I think you should hold on to it until spring. Something to remember me by.”

Finn rolled his eyes at that last bit, as if he could forget her. But he nodded his head and set the bulb in his lap.

“I love you, Finn.”

He turned around to look at her, lingering as if trying to memorize every detail. His hands wandered to her hair where a couple of loose stands fell from her buns, then they drifted to her cheeks and gently stroked the skin there.

Leaning in, Finn pressed their foreheads together before closing his eyes and kissing her. It was quiet and not with the same amount of energy that Finn had kissed her back in the summer months, but it was deep, even soothing, like he was trying to get a winter’s worth of affection.

He held her hand as he dipped himself back into the water, holding the glass float in his other. When he got too far for her to hold on to anymore, he let go and turned back to wave at her.

After he vanished into the sea, Rey waited at the beach for a few more minutes, lost in thought. Then, she stood up to go home and thought about how nice it would be to sleep near the fire and came up with a clam chowder recipe that sounded good to her.

When spring rolled around again, Rey waited patiently for any sign that Finn had woken up. The first week after the spring equinox, there were chilly rainstorms, and she sighed at the fact that the sea had probably not warmed up enough for Finn to return just yet.

She made changes to her little house in the winter to insulate it better and used her free time to make sculptures out of the things that she found washed up on the shore and started to create jewelry out of the stones and shells she would gather. The villagers had taken a liking to her designs and bought them as gifts when the holiday celebrations drew near. The pearls, meanwhile, were still underneath the loose floorboard, and she kept trying to think of a design for a necklace for herself that would carry at least one of the pearls without anyone eyeing it for its value.

Rey also had started to learn more about fixing ships as she spent more and more time around the marina. One of Plutt’s workers, an older man, but one of the nicer ones in the village would teach her something new in exchange for a good joke. She spent her working hours trying to come up with new ones. The idea she had was that maybe as she got better, she could do repairs for others and charging them enough so that she could survive off of that work instead of being outside every day searching for shellfish. If she was no longer under the mercy of Plutt and his employment, she could perhaps set her own hours and afford nicer things. Then she could choose when to be with Finn and maybe figure out a way to be near him even in the winter.

On the first day when the sun broke through the clouds and the world seemed a little less gray, Rey decided it was nice enough to finally lower her rowboat back into the water and sit in it.

But when she got there, she gasped and excitement filled her.

In the rowboat sat the glass float.

Reminding her of the time they first met, Rey pushed the rowboat into the water and lounged inside it, basking in the warmth of the sun as she waited.

#finnrey #finnreyfridays #my stuff

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tarithenurse · 5 years

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All is fair in Love & War - 7

Pairing: Loki x reader Content: Less angst, some lewd undertones....actually it might be more than undertones. What I’m trying to say is that the “do will be done” at some point in this chapter and you might get to read some of that. K? Also...I’ve not done any corrective readings on this, sorry (I know, bad me).

7. Getting into shape

Daily walks with Loki helps rebuild some of your constitution, and each time the god notices improvement, he finds some task or exercise for you to undertake. Although some chores are less tempting, you don’t mind because it gives you something to do, not to mention a chance to understand the way of life in Utgard.

The new task of the day is even one you have been hoping to be given. Standing in the stables with a pitchfork and a wheelbarrow, the joy of working with or near animals is bubbling within you, making you giddy as you look up at the giant black horse. Already, you have zoned out Loki and the conversation he is having with the stable boys in the guttural, rumbling language of the Jötuns – none of what they say makes any sense.

You had managed to sneak an apple from your breakfast tray, hiding it in the pocket of the dress you have been given to wear for menial tasks. It’s a bit big for you, clearly made for a Jötun who generally are of bigger stature. Maybe it is made for a child? Either way, the rough material is comforting to you because it is what you have been used to, and it is much warmer than the flimsy silk gowns which are not made for the winter that is settling over the kingdom.

A soft muzzle nudges your shoulder, making you realize that you have lost yourself in thoughts. Mumbling an apology, you give the horse the fruit and enjoy the loud munching, adding to the companionship by stroking the smooth neck of the beast. Even the strands of its mane are silky to the touch, threatening to sidetrack your thoughts again. The silent exasperation rolls through your lungs, then you begin the work.

Once upon a time when life was normal, you had become the one to tend to the larger animals of the little village although they were not shared property. But the three cows, one donkey, two mules, and a score sheep and goats mixed were easier tended to in a single herd, allowing more villagers to work at the quarry or tend to other tasks benefitting everyone in the tight-knit community. All hands were needed. From a young age, you spend full days in the pastures before the new enclosure stood finished, and after that your time was divided between the animals and seasonally dependant chores. You grew confident in the much larger beasts presence, learned to understand their behaviour as easily as if they spoke to you.

“Come on now,” you mumble to your new companion while nodding at the wet hay below the enormous hooves, “you don’t wanna step in that, do you?”

A huff and shameful shake of the mane provides the answer, and a nod to another corner of the stall is enough to get the stallion moving. He’s so gentle. Patting the creature as a way of showing your appreciation, you resume the work of cleaning out the dirty bedding.

Side-eyeing the black horse, you keep talking gently to him. “What do I even call you, huh? Can’t just call you any silly ol’ name…”

“His name is Magni.”

Maybe you manage to hide how the voice startles you. You hope so. There is no reason to look for who is answering you because even if you had not recognized Loki’s soft tone, there is still only one other who speaks your language. How long has he been standing so close, watching?

“Magni.” You stroke the horse’s flank before dumping the last pitchforkful into the wheelbarrow.

“One of the boys will take it from here.” Loki announces.

The secretive curl in his voice is slightly unsettling, creating a cool seed of worry in your guts that grows and begins to bloom as you follow the king of Jotunheim through the courtyard and out the heavy gates.

It is the first time you set foot outside the castle grounds during the day, and even the view from your chambers have not prepared you for the endlessness of the landscape on this side of the old fortress. Standing on top of a giant hill, the landscapes fall away in rolling waves of faded green dotted with shrubs and ragged cliffs on which lichen grow. Here and there is a birch tree, naked against the cold winds that flattens grass and whirls leaves towards the grey clouds that are hanging heavily above. Further off are the rivers and dark woods of evergreens. Whoah.

“Yes, it may appear a harsh or even unforgiving land to most, but I find Jotunheim holds a beauty best appreciated in the changing of the seasons.”

The comment could have been meant as bragging. It’s not. There might be a lot to learn about him because, truth be told, nothing you had been told had turned out to be right. Months around him had not proven quite as fruitful in terms of getting to know him as you had hoped, and yet…Oh! No! Not going there again! A warm knot is already forming in the pit of your belly, matched only by another heat in your cheeks. You don’t want to look over at him, nervous he might be watching you for any reactions. He may be an enigma to you, however, a suspicion that the god is able to read your mind is increasingly prevalent. He is in your mind, under your skin, appearing in dreams that have no business appearing let alone starting an aching need between you legs. So now you stand beside him, looking over the rolling hills of this wild, rugged kingdom and knowing that you cannot escape even if you tried because this world is an unforgiving one.

Outside the shielding walls of the keep, nothing keeps the wind away. Tearing at you clothes and hair, it sends a chill into your bones and a shiver is setting in.

“Here.” Loki wraps a cloak around your shoulders and fastens the clasp under your chin. “It is time you learn about the area.”

It is wonderful to be out and about despite the slight worry that creeps in as the two of you move away from the solid structure that has been your prison for soon two seasons. Thoughts are racing through your head, analyzing everything about the situation and any potential reasons might have for taking you out here. Kill me? No, he would not have a problem doing that at the keep, he has proven that before. Imprison me elsewhere? That would be impractical, considering how much time the tall man spends in your company. Have his way with me? The idea does not scare you as much as you do (that does frighten you, though), but either way it is still just as unlikely as murdering you. Each idea becomes more and more farfetched, granting you no peace. This is how it has been since Loki came back and practically saved you. Was that planned? Nothing in your world is right anymore, fueling a desperate determination to find out what is going on then. Maybe, as things begin to make sense, the strained tension will dissipate.

Rounding the top of the hill brings the forest visible from you windows into view. An arm is stretching for the keep and it is towards that that Loki now strides, his long legs carrying him so fast that you sometimes have to run a little bit to keep up – not that you are sure you really want to, but being left alone in a distinctively different land than your own is not anything you want either.

By the time you reach the trees, the first snowflakes of the winter are floating down from the leaden clouds to settle in your hair, on the cape. On the mosses that carpet the forest floor in shades not unlike Loki’s eyes when they flicker darkly each time they travel over your form. No, wait, I wasn’t going to think like that! Leafless birch and rowan are replaced by the spruce and fir that shield better from the cold but strengthens the shadows until the two of you are walking in perpetual dusk. It is all too easy to imagine the dangerous creatures roaming the woods, and it urges you to stay closer to the god leading the way. Thankfully, he has slowed down.

It feels like hours before he finally stops, making you bump into him because you no longer have been paying attention. For a second, you freeze with fear of what Loki will do as he reaches out to you, but he only wraps an arm around your waist to pull you into his lap as he sits. There is no part of your body that does not ache. Knees are weak. Finally. Looking around, you see the seat is simply a large, flat stone placed almost perfectly in a circle of taller granites shaped by rough carvings. Old figures are staring down with empty eyes below horns that turn into ridges creating swirling patterns adorning their naked bodies. Naked bodies with surprisingly detailed…parts. Though you are no virgin, it still makes you blush.

“Makes one think, does it not?” Loki asks playfully, his hand drifting to your thigh, and you watch it with apprehension. “These are ancient carvings made by the ancestors of the Jötun. My people.”

Before your very eyes, the hand of the god changes. Transforms. The fingers grow a bit longer…or maybe it is the entire hand that grows? It does not matter, though, because there are other alterations: skin grows blue like cobalt and dark lines appear before rising into ridges. For a moment, your eyes flash to the crude statues then back to find that the nails now are black and claw-like.

“Look at me, [Y/N].” Loki begs softly.

A deep breath steels you, making it possible to turn to face the Jötun. There are no horns adorning his brows though the ridges are a bit more prominent. His eyes. Black pupils in an endless see of dark red. Orbs of blood. I’ve seen this before. Vague memories attempt to claw back to the surface, but they do not bring the same terror that you once associated with Loki’s strange nature. Instead, you find him strikingly handsome. Every trait that have haunted your dreams as forbidden desires are enhanced, mixing with a raw tenderness as he exposes what must be his true form to you.

A small frown fails to wrinkle the ridges on his forehead. “You do not fear me?”

“I’m sure you can be…ermm…scary like a monster if angered, but…” You hesitate in order to make sure. “No…I don’t fear you because of…this…” With a vague wave of a hand, you gesture his appearance.

Watching his lips curl in a smile adds to the confusion in your body. He looks truly happy, reminding you of how rarely you have seen joy in his eyes. Your hand cups his face before you know it, the thumb stroking a chiseled cheekbone. This is his real form. It should be frightening, as he suspected. The reaction is far from that, instead showing itself as a warm knot in the pit of your belly and an insistent tugging at your heartstrings.

I should know better. The words are meaningless. Stretching, you brush your lips against his. Heat meeting cold and your breaths mingling as the kiss deepens. Loki inhales sharply when you run your fingers through the dark strands to pull him closer, and you grab the opportunity to slip your tongue in.

He has you straddling him soon enough. Blue and, to you, normal coloured hands are tugging at clothes, searching for skin to mark and explore in any way possible. More. The aching need between you legs is back, followed by a dampness that begs for contact and has you fumbling with belts and buckles to free his manhood until he stops you by reaching his goal first. Shivers race through your limbs as long, cold digits delve between the folds, spreading the slick and making you moan breathlessly by the time he reaches the sensitive nub. More. Suddenly, you can only hold on, hands fisting his black hair and teeth digging into his shoulder to maintain a semblance of decency.

You are gasping shamelessly when he finally retracts is fingers from inside you to undo his belt. More.An insatiable craving is eating away at you as you watch him free his cock (also blue and with smaller ridges tracing spiral patterns along the shaft), and you have your hands wrapped around it as soon as you can. Exploring. Pumping gently until his head falls back and he groans softly. More. Nimble and determined, you reposition yourself to slide him in. Slowly. The cold of his erection soothing the stretch.

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lamentalia · 5 years

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Amelia - Chapter 2

“Hey Mattie?” Amelia says awkwardly as they’re walking. Unlike Mattie she’s never been very interested in discretion and so her attempts at it often come out sounding stilted and graceless. Mattie is always, well, usually better at that kind of thing. However, something bothers her about his actions during the earlier altercation. “Uh. So… What happened to Gilbert’s Rule Number 1 back there?” She asks. “I mean, I could’ve taken the touga, you know, and it’s not like you to be so—”

His face and ears crumple into a wretched look. Oh, ouch, that’s what she was afraid of. She backpedals quickly.

“Hey! No, I’m not blaming you, bro! You’re just… usually more cool-headed than that? What I’m trying to say is are you ok?” She’s kicking herself inside, but Mattie seems to understand what she means. He always does, even when she can’t express herself to save her life. He gives her a tired but, thankfully, less self-flagellating look.

“Sorry, Em.” He says and takes a beat to continue. “I don’t know what happened.” He sighs, yet again. “I should have taken the sanga out first but… Well, I saw that guy grabbing you and I guess I just… reacted.” He shrugs and looks genuinely perplexed. Amelia can sympathize.

“Yeah, ok, I get that.” Amelia says, considering how the scene must have looked to an onlooker. “I guess I might have done the same thing if it were you.” Mattie rolls his eyes and finally smiles a bit.

“Ugh… Thanks, Em. That makes me feel worse.” He says. Amelia shoves him.

“Jerk!” Amelia laughs. She headbutts his arm in sisterly fashion, affectionate but not too gently. Mattie’s too tall to return the gesture of a head butt when they’re walking side-by-side, or rather, Amelia’s too short. It’s no fair, really. They’re supposed to be twins. Why can’t they be the same height? Instead he chuckles and musses her hair in return.

“I don't know…” Mattie repeats after a moment of silence. “I guess I’m just really tense with everything going on, eh?.” Its Amelia’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Mattie, you take on too much responsibility and you’re not very good at it. You gotta stop worrying about everything so much.” She says. Mattie’s face tells her he has some complicated emotion running through his head. “I’m not saying there’s nothing to worry about, obviously,” she shrugs, “but not everything can be helped, you know? We just gotta keep moving.”

“Mm.” He says noncommittally. There’s still something rattling around in his head that he’s not saying to her. Well, she knows he’ll think about it at least.

★

After an anxious hike, Amelia and Matthew arrive. Amelia’s first instinct is to relax as the sunny meadow where they live comes into view. They stop for a moment to take it in.

Amelia feels it’s different somehow, as though she is seeing it through a perspective she didn’t have before. She feels the irony in her telling Mattie to keep moving earlier. It’s just hit her that this will be the last time she visits this place. The home she and Mattie grew up in; the home they woke up in, ate breakfast in and left this morning to patrol their territory as they always have done. Until today.

She scans the scene as if to commit it to memory.

It’s a small meadow full of autumn wildflowers and surrounded by forest that has just begun to change colors. Standing still, they can hear the distant sound of sea water crashing against the rocky cliffs of the northwestern coast of Sisa. Amelia wonders sadly if that’s been swallowed by the Void too.

Just off center of the meadow is an old, gnarled tree that somehow took root atop a rocky outcrop. Its roots twist down over the sides of the bedrock and hide a crevice in the ground that is large enough for a cat to climb through but small enough to miss unless you stand on top of it. Amelia and Mattie don't need to see it to know it’s there; it is the entrance to their home.

Amelia’s heart clenches painfully and she and Mattie find each other’s hands at the same time. Mattie’s hand is a little too cold. Hers is probably a little too hot.

Do they really have to leave? Things are suddenly going way too fast…

But Amelia looks at Mattie and sees that he is hesitating, too. Well, if they must leave, at least they’ll be together. She pulls on Mattie’s hand and walks with him to their house. They need to pack.

☆

Sunlight filters in through the crevice in the ceiling. The floating dust motes beneath it look like tiny, moving stars. She follows the motes with her eyes for a moment before trying to catch them in her small, uncoordinated hands. She peeks into her cupped hands each time she thinks she’s caught one but never finds one there. It perplexes her and makes her more determined…

She hears a soft, musical hum coming from the direction of the stove.

It’ s Mama.

She turns around hoping to see Mama, but Mattie is sitting at the big wooden table, drawing, and is blocking her view. She jumps a few paces sideways, craning her neck.

And one more jump.

There’s Mama!

She loves Mama’s humming. She runs, singing along, to Mama and Mama turns and smiles down at her…

☆

Mattie takes a stack of Guiding Leaves from a basket near the entrance and gives half of them to Amelia. There is a shallow bowl on a shelf beside them that is still full of water from the morning. Mattie drops a leaf into the water. After a moment it begins to glow and the two descend the short staircase into the main living area of their home.

They walk about the room dropping leaves into the bowls of water placed in each corner of the room and put the remainder of their leaves into a large bowl on the wooden table in the center of the room. Gradually the room fills with soft green light.

Amelia looks around slowly, noticing all the things she takes for granted in daily life. The space is not too big, nor too small. The stove and table remain the same as they ever were since before she can remember.

There’s a barrel for water and several others for storing food stacked in one corner of the room. Mattie has a couple of jars of his sap reduction sitting on a shelf near the stove, which he is quite proud of. As he should be; that stuff is really, really tasty.

Her attention moves to the opposite side of the room where there are several shelves they’d installed to put the books left behind by their mother and gifted to them by Gilbert. She moves closer to touch them and wonders whether they could spare the space and the weight of them in their travel packs.

☆

“’Long, Long ago, Two Canes were the cleverest of all life in the land. They spoke several languages and used their tools and intelligence to make whatever things they wanted.

They could fly through the sky or burrow underground—’”

“WOW! They fly??” Amelia asks, taking a break from “grooming” Mama’s glossy, black tail.

“We live underground.” Mattie said quietly, sounding dubious.

“Yes, they did fly.” Mama said with a patient smile, lowering the book she was reading to look at each kitten. “And Mattie, this house was built by Two Canes many, many years ago. This place is very special and ancient.”

Mattie’s ears straighten in shock. He peers around the room as though looking for some hint of Two Canes left behind.

“Issat why the rock walls look funny, Mama?” Amelia asks.

Mama’s brown-skinned hand pats her on the head and she gives her a wide smile as if giving her a reward for doing something very good.

“That’s right Emma,” Mama then pats the smooth, cool wall beside her. “Only the Two Canes could make something like this.”

She returns to the book.

“Now then… ‘they could even spend many days at sea. They excelled at making art and music.—’”

“Mama n’ me make good music!!” Amelia says excitedly. Mattie looks disappointed so she adds, “And Mattie is good at making drawin’s!” He perks up.

Mama smiles and continues.

“’The ancestors of the Ribika were Cats that obeyed Two Canes who were second only to the gods and could have been called gods on earth…’”

“Where did the Two Canes go?” Amelia asks. “Why aren’t they here anymore?” The concept of gods was still a bit fuzzy to Amelia, though she knew they were supposed to be amazing beings.

“Well…” Mama hesitates. “We don’t know what happened. We only know that they disappeared long ago.”

How mysterious! Amelia imagines them flying so far into the sky that maybe they got lost and couldn’t find their way back.

“Mama, why are we called Ribika?” Mattie asks with his head to the side, like he does when he’s thinking a lot.

“We were named after the goddess Ribika who gave birth to the first of our kind.” Mama replies, smiling at Mattie as she did to Amelia earlier. “Before her, our ancestors walked on four legs and were much smaller and less intelligent than we are today.” Mama says.

Amelia tries to imagine such a creature, but it looks very silly. Mattie still has his thinky face on.

Mama laughs softly and her long, straight black hair shifts as she picks the twins up. “Alright, that’s enough for tonight. Time for bed you two.”

☆

Amelia lifts the book to her chest.

She and Mattie have precious few memories of their mother. Most of the memories they do have are foggy and dreamlike; so delicate that she fears they could disappear.

She decides to take the book with her and grabs the one about the stars that Gilbert gave her, too.

Their mother passed away years ago when they were still very small kittens. They don't remember anything of her death except that she was ill for a time and then gone one day. They do not recall how long they were alone together after that, somehow surviving on what they could find in the house and in the meadow. If Gilbert hadn’t stumbled upon them one day, they certainly wouldn’t have survived.

Amelia grabs a pack from her and Mattie’s room and puts the two books in it. Mattie is in here too. If he has any concerns about the practicality of bringing books along, he keeps them to himself. Amelia notices he’s already got the jar of sap reduction sticking out of his bag. Perhaps that has something to do with it. Amelia smiles at him knowingly and continues packing.

★

“So… now what? Do we go ahead with our original plan?” Amelia asks. Anxiety is sadly dulling the rare pleasure of her satiety.

They’re sitting at the wooden table; bags packed and stomachs fuller than usual. After all, as small as their food stores are for a winter, it’s too much to carry all at once. They may as well eat as much as they want. Plus, they’ll need the extra energy for the trip and their goal is to end up in a place where they can find food, anyway.

Leaving home will be a moot point, otherwise. Amelia grimaces at the thought.

“Yeah, it’s our best bet.” Mattie unfurls the map that had been stuffed in his pack. “We only know where Gilbert and Ludwig are.” Mattie points to the center of the map where there is a city labeled ‘Ransen’.

Amelia nods.

Ransen is the biggest city in Sisa and where Gilbert and his younger brother Ludwig live. The two of them have told the twins everything they know about Ransen.

It’s supposed to be huge, with giant Two Canes ruins and hundreds, maybe even thousands of cats from all over; even cats from abroad! Amelia can hardly imagine so many cats living in close proximity; apparently no one there bothers much about territories.

Most amazing of all, though, is that the Void has never shown up anywhere near the city and there has never been a breakout of the Sickness. Food is plentiful and monsters are few. Gilbert had told them they are welcome to stay at his place if they ever needed to leave home.

This was two years ago, though. There’s no telling what has happened in that time… It’s still worth traveling to as they have no better options.

“According to what Gilbert said last time he was here, the Void was closing out the forest North East East of here,” He points to the area. “Down through the area Southeast of us.” His claw tip gently traces the forest down in a line that effectively cuts off a direct route to Ransen.

“So, we’ll have to go to the South.” Amelia says. “We may want to account for some expansion and hook a little southwest before turning east.” She traces her own line down, curving westward through a couple of small villages and then across, heading east to Ransen. Conveniently, there appears to be a river that follows this path partway. Mattie nods slowly, concern showing in his ears and his furrowed brow.

“Yes, but we should try to avoid those villages, if possible.” He says. Amelia blinks at him.

“What? Why?” She asks, baffled. “If we have to go south anyway, we may as well. They might have information we could use.”

“They’re also on the edge of Sisa” Mattie replies pointedly. “They will be hurting for resources like we are, if they’re still there, and you remember what Gilbert said about the outlying villages, right?”

She vaguely remembers Gilbert saying something…

“They’re unfriendly and territorial, even to passersby.” Mattie says, rolling his eyes.

Ah. Yes. She forgot about that.

“Ok, ok. So we’ll avoid the villages.” She says waving her hands at Mattie. She picks up her coat and shrugs it on. “Think we’re ready to go now?”

Mattie sighs, taking another sweeping look across their house. Amelia follows his gaze. They’re leaving so much behind… They knew this day would come but the forewarning gives them no solace in practice. She finds herself sighing too.

“Yeah. It’s not like it’s going to get any easier, eh?” Mattie says donning his coat and lifting his pack onto his shoulders. “The sooner we get out of here, the safer.”

Amelia nods and grabs her own pack and her sadness is soon overlapped with excitement. She’s never traveled so far, before, and she can only imagine the possibilities.

★

#lamentalia #aph #Axis Powers Hetalia #hetalia #aph america #fem!america #Female America #aph canada #crossover #lamento crossover #fanfic #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fantasy au #fantasy au #nekotalia #?#does this count?

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do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them · 5 years

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Til the End of the Night / Ch11: In which Logan could have had better timing

Previous / Masterpost / Next

Summary: Patton finds a unicorn and Logan finds Virgil.

Warnings: most of the same things from last chapter really, plus some Virgil Talking Bad About Himself

A/N: And we’re all caught up! New chapters will now be posted here and on AO3 simultaneously. if anyone wants to be tagged in this story this would be a good time to ask before the next chapter is done, cough cough

AO3

Logan hated to complain about the one part of this largely nonsensical world that seemed designed specifically for him, but he did wish this final section could’ve been a tad less vertical. Everything kept moving while he was standing on it, was the thing, and sometimes he needed to jump onto other moving things, and considering that the entire structure was made of stone floating at various heights, the prospect of falling off was one he would prefer not to explore. He was fairly confident it wouldn’t kill him or anything, given that he could not, in fact, die unless Thomas did, but it would still hurt.

The good thing about being so high up was that he’d almost made it to the top, meaning he would soon be able to reunite with the other two and get back to finding a way out of the forest. In fact, as the slab of stone he was currently on top of floated back and forth, there was a certain point where he thought he might be able to reach the ledge in front of the exit door if he jumped. Not that he was going to try something as risky as that, of course. No, he would just stick with the normal route of stepping across to this other platform, turning it invisible while he was standing on it so light could pass through to start it moving, and then tossing a sphere with this symbol on it at the wall it took him over to in order to dispel the illusion making it appear close than it was and reveal a hidden alcove containing something like an elevator. Once that went up, all he needed to do was activate the runes on the wall, and the layer of fog in front of where the elevator stopped would be transmuted into a solid stone path so that he could safely walk across to the exit. It was really very simple.

Finally, he was standing in front of the door. Rather than requiring a rune-engraved sphere to open, there was merely a glowing button beside it. Logan pressed it. The door opened, as usual—but as soon as he’d stepped through to the hallway on the other side, it ground shut again, sealing away the entire complex. Since he had no clue how he’d gotten in there to begin with and saw no way to open it from the outside, it would likely be impossible to return, not that he expected to have reason to. He proceeded along the tunnel he’d found himself in until he emerged into sunlight.

Outside was the same forest he’d been in this whole time, although he didn’t recognize the area. Judging by the sun, it looked to be sometime in the afternoon, but that didn’t tell him much since he didn’t know what time it had been when he’d started on the puzzles. (Actually, he couldn’t say for certain that it was even the same day it had been when he’d fallen asleep. It was a good thing the Imagination didn’t require the sides to eat and drink regularly while they were there, or he would probably be in trouble. For the first time, and probably the last, he was happy to prioritize an interesting narrative over realism.) He waited a moment, but nothing happened to give him an idea of what to do next, unless he was to count the raven-sized phoenix with dragon wings that flew by after a few seconds—why couldn’t Roman ever let his mythical creatures just be one thing at a time? There was really nothing to do except start walking and hope to run into something familiar… or maybe even someone, if he really got lucky.

Just as he was about to do that, he was stopped in his tracks by a resounding crash which sounded like it came from… well, not close by exactly, but not too far away either. Knowing Patton and Virgil, there was always a good chance a sound like that was one of their doing, especially with Roman already ruled out. He made sure he didn’t look too much of a mess and headed toward the source of the noise.

After only a little more walking, Patton had found a convenient log and was now sitting on it to rest. He rolled up his pant leg and winced. He had been thinking, optimistically, that if he healed the fox he would only have a tiny, fox-sized injury. As it turned out, these things adjusted themselves for scale. “Ow…”

Unfortunately, a search through his pockets didn’t turn up anything he could wrap it up with, but it would probably be fine since it was under his clothes. Although, he should probably at least wash it so it would be clean, right? He didn’t have any water on him… He stood up and looked around hopefully. Maybe… oh! He could hear running water! He left his little path to follow the sound—being careful to pay attention to which way he went, this time, especially since it was a bit hard to see in the mist—and soon came upon a stream. Or, wait, was it a creek? Maybe even a river? Patton didn’t really know the difference. Whatever it was, he would definitely have to swim if he wanted to cross it. Regardless, the water was cool and clear, and it seemed like a fine place to clean up.

He sat down beside the water and pulled his shoes and socks off before sticking both feet in. It felt incredibly good, especially after walking so much over the past few imaginary days. He splashed water on his leg until it was clean, then sat for a few more minutes, just enjoying himself. There were some tiny little fish in the water. He waved to them as they swam by. Then he wasn’t sure if they understood human waving, so he wiggled his entire body at them, just to make sure they got it. Soon he felt nice and refreshed and ready to keep going. He put his shoes back on and got up to keep going- and gasped, as he spotted something a little ways upstream.

It was the most beautiful horse- no, wait, unicorn he had ever seen! Well, he’d never seen a real unicorn before, and not very many horses either, but it was just SO pretty he knew it had to be the best one there was. He ran up to it, completely forgetting that his leg hurt, chanting “oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh” under his breath. It looked up and for a second he was afraid he’d spooked it, but it didn’t move from where it was, just watched him. He slowed down, just to be safe, and it let him get right up next to it! “Hi, oh my goodness, you’re so pretty,” he cooed. The unicorn inclined its head as if to agree. Starry-eyed, he reached up to pet it. “…Huh. You’re kinda damp. Were you getting clean too?”

Either way, it was so soft, he didn’t want to ever stop touching it! He took a step closer in order to bury both hands in its mane, and winced: his leg still wasn’t happy about all the walking he was doing on it, and it put a bit of a damper on his excitement and awe. The unicorn’s ears flicked at his soft sound of pain, and as it looked over at him, he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining the appearance of concern. If it was there, he appreciated it, but… he still really wished he didn’t have to walk any more.

He was about to shake it off, forget about it and focus on appreciating the beautiful creature in front of him. Maybe offer it some of his berries. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, it seemed to somehow know. It bent its head again and… kneeled?... in a way Patton wasn’t sure if horses were actually capable of, but it was magical and imaginary so he figured he didn’t need to worry. It stared at him and tossed its head with a whinny, a clear invitation. He was making so many friends today! Sure, he’d never been on a horse before in his life, but it couldn’t be too hard, right? He threw his leg clumsily over its back, and only five or so failed attempts later, he was seated atop it. It was so nice of this unicorn to offer him a ride!

Virgil’s ability to move returned shortly after he hit the forest floor, along with the knowledge that he was going to have so many bruises. It was possible that jumping off a cliff was not the best idea he’d ever had. On the bright side—insofar as there was one—nothing seemed to be broken. At least his magic had done its job. Still, it hadn’t been the softest landing. He groaned and pushed himself to his feet slowly. No time to lie around on the ground, he needed to get back to looking for-

Crash.

Virgil stumbled and nearly fell again before he could finish getting up. The source of that small earthquake? The very same thing he jumped off a cliff to get away from, making a small crater where it landed (small by crater standards, anyway). He locked eyes with it and nearly froze in place, but he couldn’t freeze up now, he had to figure out how to not die. He knew he couldn’t just keep running away indefinitely, even if he dared look away long enough to find somewhere to run to. It swiped at him—lazy in comparison to the speed he’d seen it use before, a cat playing with a doomed mouse—and all he could do was throw up a shield around himself with the remaining part of his defensive magic. He was safe inside it, but trapped. At least he could catch his breath. He watched the shape of his monstrous pursuer pacing around the outside of his protective sphere, and hoped in vain that it would lose interest in him and go back to wherever it came from.

He didn’t have much time to hope before he heard something that made his blood run cold.

“Hello? Patton? Virgil? …Anyone?”

The creature heard it, too. Virgil saw its head snap up in the direction of Logan’s distant voice. Shut up, shut up, he willed silently, but apparently Logan wasn’t telepathic. He called out again, slightly closer this time. The creature gave one more glance to its current target, unreachable in a bubble, and turned away to chase after much easier prey. Virgil felt the heat spark in his hands and didn’t hesitate. “Hey!”

He broke through his shield and lunged for the monster as it whirled around to face him. He didn’t even get close before it made a grab at him with several limbs. Barely avoiding its grasp, he was still thrown against a tree by what little contact it made, the air knocked out of his lungs. There was no time to stop and catch his breath, not when it was already charging to finish him off. No time to get out of the way, either, even if he hadn’t been dazed. With few options left, Virgil threw himself to the ground and rolled. It hadn’t expected that. The tree didn’t stop it in the slightest, but it did slow it down—just long enough for him to look up, gather his energy and shove the magic currently crackling in his hands into its body.

The Imagination didn’t like too much mess. The monster howled once more, a sound like an untuned orchestra, and dissolved into black dust.

Logan ran into the clearing—there hadn’t been a clearing here before, necessarily, but there certainly was one now—to find Virgil, dusted with some sort of powder, lying on the ground and looking like… well, pretty much like someone who had just done all the things he’d just done. Logan hurried over and offered him a hand up. “Are you alright? What was all that noise?”

Virgil staggered to his feet and leaned on him heavily. His hands were strangely warm. “Logan,” he breathed, ignoring his questions. He took a step back to make sure he wasn’t hurt. Once he was satisfied and a little more stable, he finally explained. “There was this, like, monster thing chasing me, and I jumped off a cliff-”

“You what?!”

“-I know, okay, I’m not dead or anything, but it followed me and I was just going to make a shield and wait for it to get bored, but then it heard you yelling—you don’t do that when you’re wandering around in a magic forest, idiot—and it was gonna go after you so I kinda had to fight it, and basically today is the worst. If you ever want to get me in this stupid realm again after this is over, you’re gonna have to knock me out and carry me.”

“I know the feeling,” Logan sighed. He elected not to mention that his own experience today had been fairly enjoyable, at least not until Virgil calmed down. “Do you want to sit and rest for a few minutes?”

“Wait, where… Patton’s not with you?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen him.”

Virgil groaned. “We have to find him now.” He was going through a series of flashbacks to every probably-dangerous thing he’d had to drag Patton away from in this forest.

Logan frowned. From the look of him, the only thing Virgil should have been finding right now was somewhere to take a nap, but he knew he’d be too stubborn to agree. “At least allow me to look you over for injuries first. It won’t matter once we reunite with Patton, of course, but there should be something I can do in the meantime.”

“…Fine.” Virgil located a suitable rock to sit on, shrugged out of his robes and—rather self-consciously—took off his shirt. Logan only had to look at him for half a second before he winced and started digging through his bag.

“What on earth happened to you?”

“I… jumped off a cliff and fought a monster?”

“Right.”

Things were silent, yet not uncomfortable, while Logan found what he needed and started to patch Virgil up. It couldn’t last forever, though. Virgil had to ruin it, just like everything else.

“Hey… Logan?”

“Hmm?” He was absorbed in what he was doing, but pulled part of his attention away to listen.

“I gotta tell you something.”

Ah. That meant it was something serious, otherwise he would’ve just said it without first declaring his intent to do so. “I’m listening,” he assured him.

“Well… um.” He paused, wincing only partially because of Logan’s prodding. “You know how… things kinda keep going wrong for us?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Yeah, I think… I’m pretty sure that’s because of me.”

Logan’s hands stopped moving. “What makes you believe that?”

He looked at the ground and spoke in a rush, trying to get it over with. “You know Roman said we can influence our surroundings in here, and I- every time something bad happens, it’s something I was worried about. Everyone turning on us back in Deercross because I looked scary—even before that, I kept thinking you were gonna trip and then you did—and this, this stupid forest, I was the one convinced there had to be something scary in here and guess what! Do you think it’s a coincidence that I was the one on watch when those creepy fog dudes showed up and separated us?”

“What creepy-”

“There were creepy fog dudes, they knocked me out, I’m guessing they’re the reason we woke up in different places. And unless you were also running away from a huge terrifying monster, that was my own fault too. …You probably would’ve been better off finding Patton and not me, I’m only gonna-”

“Virgil, no.”

“What?”

“You did not cause those things.”

He turned around. “What are you talking about? How could I not have?”

“You’re jumping to conclusions. I spoke with Roman last night-”

“Wait, how?”

Logan waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, you know, magic. I can show you how it was done after we’ve found Patton, since he wanted to see you two as well. In any case, according to what he told me, that Dragon Witch of his has managed to gain some amount of control over his realm. Not only that, but he seemed to imply the Imagination has something of a mind of its own. Between the two, it’s unlikely things would have gone smoothly under any circumstances.”

“…Oh.” Virgil stared at him, taking that information in and trying not to think about its implications too much.

“The pattens, for instance, I’ll admit would have been my downfall no matter what. I didn’t entirely think them through with regards to the terrain we were going to be on.”

“Patton’s gonna be real sad he wasn’t here to see you make a pun.”

“Do not tell him.”

He laughed behind his hand. “Got it.”

They faded back to quiet until, a couple of minutes later, Logan packed everything back into his bag and handed Virgil his shirt. “That ought to hold you until you can be properly healed.”

“Thanks.” Virgil re-dressed himself quickly and stood up, which was much easier now with whatever fantasy-ointment Logan had put on him taking away some of the soreness. “Do we just… start walking?”

“Unless you have any better ideas. If this place cares about a good story as much as it seems to, it won’t allow us to wander in circles for too long without at least finding something.”

“Right. Well… here’s hoping that ‘something’ turns out to be Patton.” He wasn’t going to say it out loud, because again, he knew better than to tempt fate like that, but if Virgil had to see one more thing today that wanted to kill him he was gonna riot.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #im like 900 words into the next chapter if you're curious #my post #my writing #til the end of the night

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fablesrpg · 5 years

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MEMBER GROUPS & LOCATIONS.

the city of st. ostara is divided into six districts, each with its own unique culture, values and socioeconomic status. characters on fables, are grouped according to which district they reside in.

NEW SALEM.

new salem is the first and original district of st. ostara - and not much about its physical appearance has changed over time. everything in new salem is dusted in hues of gold and maroon, reachable by cobble stone streets and canals that run parallel to each other - buildings in new salem tend to have a hidden basement floor, accessible by water-locked creatures from the canals only. serving as st. ostara’s historical district, there is a classic feeling to new salem - sprawling with brick and stone buildings, cathedrals and shrines - stepping foot into new salem will make you want to check your calendar, just to be sure you weren’t spirited away to a different century. this touch of old school isn’t missing from those who live here’s fashion sense either - floor length dresses, scraps of ancient armor worn as accessories, and braids once popular with royalty are on trend here. this district has the highest rate of visitors, and is mainly known for it’s vast array of dusty shops and street-side vendors. if you’re looking for a book bound in ancient greece, an herb for a spell, or a charm to help you be lucky in love, new salem is where you ought to go. st. ostara’s government and cultural board operate out of this district as well, making it home for most of the city’s festivals and events.

unlike the other districts in st. ostara, new salem is not overrun by particular species, and has an even distribution in terms of population. that being said, it is the easiest district for witches, alchemists, and prophets to market their skills.

PHANTOMSGATE.

phantomsgate is the most recently established district in the city. once upon a time just a collection of slums, the first recorded use of it’s name was in the 80s, referring to the vast amount of ghastly spirits that wandered these collections of streets. the most urban of all the districts, phantoms gate is host to a collection of neon signs, glass buildings, and warehouses turned clubs.

harboring a less than favorable reputation for the past few decades, phantomsgate was generally avoided by most of the population - only a place thrill seekers and those with nothing left to lose willingly sought out. in recent years, however, several neighborhoods within phantomsgate have been refurbished and made more appealing to the rest of the population - specifically fashion and entertainment districts, complete with the start of st. ostara’s own take on hollywood. this has been met with some pushback from those who have called phantomsgate home long before it became cool or desirable - beasts and tricksters alike who have built a community of misfits within these streets.

those within phantomsgate tend to be either of two extremes - wealthy citizens who value glitz and glam above all else, or impoverished nobodies, scraping by to survive. similarly, phantomsgate is described to outsiders as either a spectacle of light and sound or an eyesore they wouldn’t wish upon their worst enemy - outdated flashing neon signs, blindingly bright screens on every building, and a fashion style that was meant to die decades ago of worn out leather, dramatic (almost theatric) makeup, and every shade of black imaginable.

THE HOLLOW.

considered the most idyllic district in st. ostara, the hollow exists in a small valley, featuring rows and rows of brightly painted houses and overgrown gardens and greenery. charmed with unique magic that makes it experience all four seasons at once, st. ostara has the climate and environment to sustain many types of species, although the fae folk are incredibly territorial over the district, and make it known it was their craftsmanship that makes it so special. in addition to its array of weather, the hollow is home to the city’s only gated community as well as a small neighborhood known as little ireland, a homage to the homeland of many of ostara’s species - where pitchers run over and music is always playing.

THE UNDERBELLY.

underneath the streets of st. ostara lies a district usually only spoken of in whispers - the underbelly. completely underground, the only way to get to this kingdom of steel and rust is by a train that goes underground, and makes several stops everyday. once upon a time, the underbelly was strictly a prison complex where monsters not fit for ostara’s streets were forced into, and while a jailhouse still exists in the district, it has mostly developed into a series of factories, power plants, and a few residential complexes. the city provides most of st. ostara’s power and construction resources, and as such, the lower, working class tends to make a home in the dark of the underbelly. with no sunlight, the underbelly is constantly alive - the lack of night and day has been known to drive newcomers mad, but long-time residents have adjusted. movement around the underbelly is restricted to pre-laid steel walkways or open concept elevators.

despite its help in advancing st. ostara’s industrial age, the underbelly is notoriously known for its fighting ring - started at the very same prison complex that began it all. monsters would once be forced by guards to fight for their chance at freedom - the system may be gone, but the tradition remains. people from all over the city journey to the underbelly at night to place bets on fighters, a spectator sport popular with the higher class, which has allowed for those to run it to have law enforcement look the other way.

not all about the underbelly is bad, however - rent is cheap, work is easy to find, and those that live there permanently have a strong sense of camaraderie. ‘neighbor’ has a different meaning in the underbelly - often times complete with large, multi-family dinners, one person watching multiple factory worker’s children, and a communal style of living. due to the nature of the district, the arts and culture boom the rest of the city is experiencing hasn’t quite hit the underbelly. a few artists have migrated underground to try their hand at metal as a medium, and due to the lack of stores, locals have had to develop strong story telling talents to keep themselves and others entertained. fashion in the underbelly is simple and nondescript, made of simple, natural materials - simple pants, linen button ups, and leather boots are the everyday man’s attire here.

RUBY COAST.

just west of new salem lies the eccentric community of the ruby coast, a haphazard collection of brightly painted buildings set against the backdrop of st. ostara’s largest body of water, most noted for its unique beach of red sand. its charming appearance distracts from its morbid history, as any ancient being left within the city will tell you - the sand never used to be red, not before the sirens came to the city.

a relatively small beach, the red sands are flanked on both sides - to the right, a pier complete with stomach flipping rides and an arcade, and to the left, a collection of houses and shops carefully carved into and built on top of looming cliffs, mimicking the ancient infrastructure dragons once used to make caverns. from the beach, the district may look small, but underneath the surface of the ocean lies the remainder of ruby shores - a collection of glass-domed buildings underwater, accessible through pressurized walkways that keep water out.

ruby shores residents live a life of indulgence - entertainment and food are its main exports, and many people will head the shore’s way for date nights, or a place to take their children on a holiday weekend. it is well-advised, however, that humans avoid ruby shores, as many of the eateries here cater to the monsters of st. ostara with unique diets.

THE FOREST.

the forest lingers at the edge of st. ostara like a bad omen - the only district in the city unnamed, the word itself is spoken by citizens the way one would utter a hex. at the beginning of st. ostara’s history, there was an attempt to build on the land, but every attempt was met with overgrown vines and roots that would appear mere hours later. eventually, the project was abandoned, and architects searched elsewhere. those who prefer the quiet or want to distance themselves from the politics of the other districts may find themselves here. while the forest floor was never disrupted with anything other than a few cottages, a small community of tree houses - both for residential and commercial purposes - has been built without interference from the aggressive force of nature.

deeper into the forest lies the graveyard of the old gods - a collection of decaying statues of figures from throughout magic’s history. this land is considered sacred, as many believe these statues will be used as vessels for ancient deities to return to st. ostara. in recent years, however, it has become a hot spot for the younger crowd of the city to throw parties and sneak off to, free from the wandering eyes of the rest of the city.

rumors pass through the city that the forest is haunted, cursed, but this is far from the truth - rather, the forest lies on the edge of veil, the border between dimensions that the city lies on. here, magic runs thin and glitches appear - upside down trees, floating eyes, and creatures never before seen are common occurrences, and many warn that going into the forest runs risk of never coming back - stuck in the ‘in-between’ of st. ostara and earth for forever.

#fablestwo #jcink rp #site buzz #jcink site buzz #previews

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theopenmindpalace · 5 years

Text

The Probilynthium

A/N: This is a dream. I wrote it immediately upon waking up... four years ago? while still half-asleep. It is unedited. It is... not very well-written, but since it’s a dream that I no longer remember, I’m leaving it as-is. I may use it as inspiration for something larger eventually.

Exactly five levels make up the Probilynthium:

Higher Heaven

At the top there reigns some kind of beautiful haven created of life and light; I’ve never been there.

Heaven

Much simpler than the above mentioned place, “Heaven” as this is described is made up much of cold, beautiful ice and plentiful oceans. Clouds carry their own cities as well, but fire, earth and rock holds no place here; I went there one time, but I was thrown out.

Earth-Level

This is where it all begins. I came into being here, but I don’t recall what it looks like. I know it doesn’t have earth or fire, as though those two elements have no place in any realm here.

Hell

Or so the others call it. It’s actually not that bad. Like a blistering desert, it has twists and turns and many obstacles along the way down; I spent many years here, trying to bypass all the guardians who might keep us out. The sand is smooth to the touch, and it taught me to control my inner powers more fluently.

The Darkness

At the very bottom of the Probilynthium, there lies a realm very much the essence of darkness. The bubbling vat is only covered by mats of soft magic—the dark kind, of course. Ruling over The Darkness is a creature I cannot name—perhaps I could once, but the memory is lost. The creature was darkness in its purest form, blacker than black tentacles and feelers reaching out around and behind and below it, accordingly. And that eye...yellow isn’t a word to describe it completely; it bores into your very soul, and it judges your heart. Or that’s how it feels anyway. Out of the eye comes forth a beam of energy that would destroy any being in its path; for one of us, it returns us to Earth-Level, and the pain of it is terrible. I live here.

It was a long journey.

I first fell downwards, where I was met with the desert. It was a complete accident, so long ago that I don’t even recall how it happened.

So I fell, but it wasn’t bad; it was more like sliding, in fact. I weaved amongst the sandy dunes and ruins of who-knows-what, dodging random creatures, the faces of which I can’t remember at all. It was amazing, so amazing that I wondered why people called it Hell.

And what could possibly be beyond, in The Darkness?

I tried to get all the way down, but I was eventually caught and sent Home.

Earth-Level...is complicated. The whole place is surreal, and strange. The only room I can pull from my memory is the, for lack of a better term, training room. It was where the newbies decided and practiced their powers; I didn’t realize that when I first fell, though. I’d fallen... Gosh, it’s the first thing I remember ever happening to me, after learning what this place was.

Anyway, I decided to choose my own powers. (Ugh, I wish I could remember what they were called. Let’s call them...Ah! I know—the Essence.)

I should probably explain what The Essence is, though. It’s a vague concept, so this’ll be hard. The Essence is basically your soul energy, and the effects it can have in the physical realm—if that’s where we were; I suspect the Probilynthium is beyond the material plane, but I digress—this power is even more vague than it seems, as it’s different for everyone.

But one thing remains the same; we start out by using our Essence to imitate certain shapes and colors in a form that’s quite similar to the sand in Hell. I remember my brother having trouble with controlling his once it was established, but I was having fun. I waved my hands, and the colored “sand” would follow and do whatever I pleased. I’d learned in Hell that you can’t let the Essence control you—you must control the Essence—but you have to let it move as it would if, say, the wind were blowing it around.

I believed I could learn more if maybe I could get all the way down to The Darkness...

I tried, again and again, to bypass Hell. But it was so hard! Impossible, even. At some point I met a girl slightly younger than me with the same goal in mind—my sister. We began traveling together, but our combined efforts weren’t enough; the obstacles were just too much!

So eventually we decided to try Heaven; that is what we were taught, after all. We were taught to forge forward for the higher powers: The powers of the three holy elements, air, water, and light. And—well, there was the Essence as well, but for some reason no one ever counted it as its own thing. Darkness was forbidden, and in the vision of...whoever was in charge (I really don’t know), we would all eventually settle in either Heaven or Higher Heaven, according to the powers we desire or possess. Usually Heaven was more populated, simply because people never imagined anything better than that, but the idea of mastering the element of light drove still many beyond the borders to try settling in Higher Heaven. Sometimes it worked out, sometimes it didn’t.

So my sister and I decided that maybe The Darkness just wasn’t meant to be. Or maybe we could acquire the power in Heaven or Higher Heaven to get to The Darkness—or hey, maybe Heaven was everything everyone said it was. As fun and exciting—though frustrating—Hell was, maybe it really was the lower point of existence.

So one time when we came across an obstacle that would not back down, we sent its Essence to a portal on the walls and directed it to send us straight up to Heaven.

That’s the thing about the lower regions; they had portals and short cuts that were quite useful, but they could be a pain sometimes. For instance, when they sent us back to Earth-Level when we could see The Darkness right up ahead!

Anyway...we came up in water and swam our way to solid ground—er, ice. But before we could make it, a collection of Acolytes who’d made it into settling here spotted us and immediately knew where we’d come from. They started shouting at us to go atone for ourselves or something like that, and the next thing I knew I was being drowned and blown away by their Essencial powers of air and water. That sent us back to Earth-Land.

I decided then that the three Highers were highly overrated, my sister agreed, and we went back to Hell.

This time, we made it to The Darkness.

The Darkness...how do I describe it? Beautiful isn’t the first word that comes to mind. Terrifying, powerful...home. Yes, from the moment I stepped out of the darkened portal, I felt like this place was mine. My sister’s presence didn’t even register anymore; I took it in, and I finally realized why everyone else was so scared of this place.

It was powerful.

And I immediately knew that I needed to make it mine. I turned to my sister, and I could see a kind of excited fear in her eyes—but not the power lust that now gripped me, which was good.

But the moment was broken when a gargantuan ROAR (for lack of a better word) shook the very ground we stood upon—which, I must say, wasn’t any substance I’d ever seen before.

How we’d missed it was anyone’s guess, but at the very center of this place, floating...staring at us, was It.

That beast...it was both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. But at the time in question...I wasn’t thinking of beauty. My first thought was that I was now going to die.

The Beast’s yellow...eye, if you could even call it that, lit up, somehow getting darker and brighter at the same time, and I knew we had to move. My sister and I took a single step forward and ended up falling off a cliff face that I hadn’t even known was there. We narrowly avoided landing in the vat of bubbling, purple darkness just in time to be engulfed in a bright darkness:

The Beast, the blacker-than-black, squid-like Beast with the yellow, swirling vortex of an eye was right above us, and out of that eye came a painful beam of red blue light that sucked all the darkness into it, only to send the darkness out again in a confusing mixture of colors.

I began to see things from outside myself. I felt pain, and I saw the beam surround my sister and I; we were screaming, though I didn’t feel myself scream—and the next thing I knew...

Back in Earth-Level.

We tried...again...and again, but no matter how many other Darkness monsters we destroyed, no matter how tattered the barrier between Hell and The Darkness became—no, that just made it worse; creatures I’d never seen before emerged from Hell and just made it all harder.

At one point my sister and I felt we needed to get back to the outskirts of Hell before we were sent back to Earth-Level again. Neither of us wanted to go back through Hell again just to come here and be painfully torn from this reality. I was having fun getting back up to the portal; the stairway had been destroyed by our battles, so we were rebuilding it out of rock-like blocks created by the dark powers I’d managed to acquire thus far. But just as I got up there...before my sister could follow, another beam shot through the space and sent my sister back to Earth-Level.

Then I realized something. The eye...no, the Vortex. The Vortex of pure dark Essence was the source of everything here. There was no power greater, and I was almost drawn to it. That was it! I needed to take the power from the Beast; there was no other way to take this place as my home, not without submitting—and I was not going to submit to this animal.

The next time we came, we went for the eye.

You see, whenever my sister and I exited one of the portals, a great blackened substance would fly out of the vat and take shape. By now, Hell was so mixed up in The Darkness that there were sand dunes we could ride across to leap upon the Beast as it took shape from the Dark Essence.

We tried two times, just two. And on the second attempt, we leaped for the eye; I didn’t know how, but for some reason I knew that to accomplish my goals, I needed to pass through the Vortex. And we did; the monster was destroyed.

Just to be safe, my sister and I went to the other side of the portal to be sure we weren’t sent back to Earth-Level. I can’t say “we went back to Hell” anymore, because the line between the two were so blurred, but it was safer on the other side of the slim barrier.

While we were there, I noticed that the ordeal had changed me; I’d taken the power of darkness. I became darkness. When I saw my reflection, I saw five, blackened, tentacle-like veins of power in my hair; my skin became a dim yellow; and my eyes blazed green. My mentality hadn’t changed, but I would bet my existence that the people in Earth-Level wouldn’t let me near them anymore.

Anyway, my sister and I gazed through a small window into The Darkness. Then suddenly an eye, just like the one we’d been thwarted by so many times, appeared right there in front of us. My sister squealed; I jumped back in equal fright, scared that it would send me back and I would be destroyed by the Acolytes. But the longer we looked...

“Wait,” I said hesitantly, my voice seeming to echo in this realm; I hadn’t spoken much, but now I pointed off into The Darkness. “They’re a bunch of smaller ones!”

The Beast had somehow become—or released—a million little creatures just like it. But they were much weaker; now they were the residents of The Darkness.

And I was their owner.

Time passed like a blur; my sister came and went. I honestly don’t know why, or what happened to her. Living in The Darkness is... euphoric, though peaceful.

But then one day the Acolytes, thinking I was defiling their ways, or something like that, sent someone from the Higher Heaven to destroy me.

Destroying an Acolyte is an offense that no creature dare commit; we just don’t die. But I guess in their eyes I was no longer one of them; I was fine with that.

Still, why couldn’t they leave me alone? I cast out multiple Acolytes from my home, and eventually they grew desperate. They sent many to take over The Darkness, even my own mother came, which felt kind of disturbing

Only one fought me though; the most powerful in their ranks, or so they said. He had all the powers of light, air and water. He even used his Essence against me, which I admit was strong. He almost overpowered me, but when I looked over my dark home and saw light beaming from the powers of the Acolytes, I became angry; I stood up straight and plowed through my attacker’s wind and light; I reached my hand out and engulfed him in darkness; I went on the offensive, and I can’t say I’m proud of what happened next.

I stood over the body of the so-called strongest Acolyte, panting, and I felt my heart heave. I fell to my knees, and only then did I realize that my brother was standing just feet away. I didn’t look at his face. I felt as though I’d just done something awful; I hadn’t meant to kill him!

I don’t remember much after that; it seemed that the others saw my power and left me alone. But my brother...no, that wasn’t my brother. Thinking back on it, that may have been the Acolyte who threw me out of Heaven, all those years ago. I remember him saying something, and I remember my response:

“He couldn’t do anything to me. While life, light, air and water will all...eventually they’ll fade, Darkness will always be, even when everything else is gone and nothing else exists, it can’t fade. It’s the ultimate power.”

Ultimately dangerous.

I began to meditate. I let people into The Darkness sometimes; I just stopped paying attention. My family visited sometimes, but usually I was sitting somewhere on the red, sponge-like mats that floated within and without the vat of darkness, darkness of such pure form that even I couldn’t touch it without feeling melancholy. I ignored them.

Sometimes I liked to listen to them talk though; my mother cared, which was nice. My brother found my seemingly comatose state fascinating, which was weird. My sister...Hell, I can’t remember. It’s like she stopped existing to me.

I had visions sometimes, while I meditated. Weird visions, like dreams; I can’t remember them all now. Maybe I just fell asleep; that’s not really possible for Acolytes, but I wasn’t one of them anymore, so it’s possible.

I did have one dream, though, once, that I actually remember:

A tall, kind man met me in a room. He seemed happy with me, and I think he gave me a gift—a toy, just like I used to play with when I was little—

Back on Earth—just Earth—I used to play with these little toy vehicles—

—he just handed it over and smiled at me. And that was it.

I don’t know if it means anything, but I think I’m content with my life. Even if it’s anxiety-filled, I can deal with it. I feel like I’ve finally settled.

Right?

#my writing #somethingmissingthiswaycomes #original writing #fantasy #afterlife #heaven and hell #creative writing #short stories #dreams #fiction #nostalgia #angels #demons #angels and demons #light and dark #abuse of the semicolon

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