#and the ocean rising because of that island being wiped off the map

[sanjipussyindulgence]

I can’t believe the real villain was global warming this whole time

#one piece #one piece 1113 #op spoilers #ohhhh I’m insane rn #oda is absurdly good at plot twists #you never see them coming but they always make so much sense #that u feel stupid for not figuring it out earlier #like we JUST SAW the flooded remains of old wano #and the ocean rising because of that island being wiped off the map

[actual-lea]

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE

AO3 | First chapter

The train ride is largely uneventful; Daniel idly taps two fingers against his leg in rhythmic patterns and watches the buildings and trees and countryside fly past in a blur of dull greens and grays. The exact directions from the station are just as much of a blur in his head, but he's sure that he'll know where to go once he arrives, that muscle memory will take over and he'll be on his way in no time at all.

By the third time he wanders back into the station to stare at the map, he's started to doubt that theory.

“Lost?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin and whirls around to face the source of the voice, a tall man in a suit watching him with amusement from behind a pair of thick glasses.

“Uh, y– No. I'm...” Dan gestures helplessly to the map and finally manages to stammer out, “Queen's College.”

The man chuckles and reaches past him to point at a spot on the map. “There,” he says simply, and he takes a small step back as Daniel fumbles with his pack, rummaging around for a pen and scrawling the relevant street names onto his hand. “You a student, then?”

Daniel freezes. “...Yes.” He reaches for a tie that he isn’t wearing and ends up awkwardly fidgeting with the placket of his shirt instead. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Right.” The man clears his throat, like he's covering up another laugh, before he turns to walk away. “Good luck, then.”

Dan waits until he's fully out of sight before letting out a heavy exhale. So much for not drawing attention to himself. He's just being paranoid, of course, and he knows it, but it still takes a not-insignificant amount of willpower to keep himself from hopping the first train back to London and flying far away from here without looking back. Instead, he takes a deep breath and forces his feet to start moving in the right direction, because there's nothing to worry about. He can do this. He can do this.

------

“I can't do this.”

Daniel shakes the man again, uselessly, like he’ll start breathing on his own if he just waits long enough.

“Come on, I can't do this, you have to wake up now.”

He knows what to do in theory, but a single week of CPR training in an undergrad health class, well over a decade ago, hardly qualifies him to actually do it.

“I can't do this, don't make me do this, please don't make me–” He squeezes his eyes shut and drags both hands through his wet hair, twisting his fingers tight to pull at his scalp, and mutters through a quick assortment of curses.

“Okay.” He opens his eyes and takes a deep breath, in and out. “Okay. Okay. I can do this. Okay.” His hands hover nervously over the motionless body beneath him. “Okay...” He tilts the man's head back and concentrates on his own breathing for a few seconds, forcing himself to take steady, even breaths despite the residual burning in his lungs. Finally, he leans down, pinches the man's nose, and directs two of those even breaths into his mouth before sitting back up and placing his hands, left over right, in the middle of his chest.

He counts aloud, his voice unsteady, with each compression. It's almost impossible to keep a consistent pace when the float is constantly moving, rocking from side to side and bobbing unevenly in the waves; he might as well be trying to perform CPR on a waterbed.

He makes it all the way to twenty-eight before he's suddenly pitched forward by a particularly rough wave; he catches himself on the edge of the float as water floods over the top of it and then quickly recedes, nearly dragging the two of them off along with it.

The platform stabilizes after a few more seconds, and Daniel carefully re-situates himself before leaning down to give the man another two lungfuls of air. As he sits up, he checks for a pulse again, holding his breath to stop his fingers from shaking. “I really need you to wake up, now...” He closes his eyes and waits a few more seconds before reluctantly moving his hands back into position.

“One, two, three, four...” He watches the man's head jerk with each push – God, is he even doing this right? – and counts in his head, whispering a breathless mantra to the same rhythm, “Please, let, this, work, please–” –fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen– “Please. Let. This. Work. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Please. Let. This. Work.”

He swallows, and inhales, and bends down for two more breaths, pausing for a moment to catch his own breath in between.

One, two, three... There's an awful sense of dread rising in his chest and clenching tight in his throat; if this doesn't work – if he's doing it wrong or he's not using enough force or maybe if he's using too much force if there is such a thing as too much – if he screws this up, this guy is dead, and he's going to be completely alone out here, in the middle of the Pacific fucking Ocean without so much as a life vest. “Please. Don't. Die. Please. Don't. Die. Please. Don't. Die. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.”

Another breath, and another, and Dan sits up and coughs into his arm. How long is he supposed to keep this up? “Come on, come on...” He runs one shaking hand through his hair to push it out of his face and places his other hand flat on the man's chest to feel for a heartbeat, a breath, anything. “Don't– don't do this, please don't do this.”

Nothing.

He exhales and starts again. “One. Two. Three. Four. Please. Wake. Up. Eight. Nine. Ten.” His arms are aching, already, and breathing isn't getting any easier. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen–

Water explodes out of the man's mouth in a sudden burst, and Dan flinches back, nearly falling off the float. “Whoa–” He slips a hand beneath the man's neck and helps him twist to one side as he chokes, his whole body convulsing violently with the effort. “Hey hey, you're okay, you're okay...”

Finally, he collapses onto his back and starts breathing again; loud, gasping, uneven breaths, but he's breathing.

“It worked,” Daniel says, and he laces his fingers behind his head and laughs. “It actually worked!”

“What...” The man's eyes flutter open, bleary and unfocused, and he starts coughing again.

“You're alright. You're alive, and you're gonna be okay.” It's probably not the time or place for it at all, but Daniel can't seem to wipe the triumphant smile off his face.

His gaze finally fixes on Dan, and he blinks a few times. “You, you're...” He gags, and sucks in a sharp breath. “You were on the Zodiac,” he rasps.

“Yeah, I'm–”

He's interrupted by another splash of water from the man's mouth; he moves to help, but quickly backs off as the man grips the edge of the float and leans over to vomit into the ocean.

Daniel exhales. Briefly, he considers trying to reposition himself in such a way that he isn't more or less sitting in this stranger's lap, but it's glaringly obvious that there simply isn't enough room; the float isn't designed to be ridden, after all, so it's hardly large enough for even one person to sit comfortably. Instead, he places his hands on either side of the platform and allows himself a moment to relax, to breathe. His pulse pounds heavy in his ears, still, but it's finally slowing down now that oxygen isn't in such short supply.

After what seems like minutes, the man collapses onto his back again, his chest rising and falling with labored but even breaths. “Daniel, right?”

Dan looks up, surprised, and nods. “Yeah, yeah, that's right.”

“Thought so.” He holds up one hand in a quick wave. “I'm Peter.”

Daniel nods again. “It's– it's nice to meet you. Formally. Uh...” He clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably. “Sorry about the, uh. Personal space...situation.”

Peter glances down and laughs, weakly. “Hey, I'm alive, I'm not gonna complain.” Then he squints up at Dan and adds, pointing to his own head. “Y’know you’re bleeding?”

“Oh.” He brings a hand to his forehead, then blinks at the smear of red on his fingers. “That’s…probably alright,” he mumbles, pressing a palm over the sore spot on his temple with a slight wince. “Um. Are you– How are you...feeling?”

Peter closes his eyes and coughs, then swallows with obvious difficulty. “Feel like I scrubbed my throat with sandpaper.” His neck tenses and he moves to sit up, but quickly abandons the motion with a grunt. “And my leg hurts,” he adds, through clenched teeth.

“Oh, uh... Which–” Daniel turns, and the question quickly becomes unnecessary. “Oh.”

“How bad is it?”

“It’s…” He tries to keep the panic out of his voice as he loosens his tie with one hand. “It’ll be okay.” He wraps the tie around the bloodiest part of Peter's leg and pulls it tight, careful not to jostle the thick piece of metal buried in the skin just above his knee. “Just...try to stay still, okay?”

Peter doesn't look convinced, but he nods anyway and stares up at the sky with a small cough as Dan lets out a shaky sigh, his excitement from before finally dampened by the reality of their situation setting in.

“Daniel?”

“Hmm?”

“I gotta ask you somethin'.”

Anxiety jolts through him at those words, just out of habit. “Yeah...?”

Peter coughs again and clears his throat. “I know that there was an explosion, and I got thrown in the water, and I just drowned and was maybe dead for a second and everything, so I'm probably just crazy or remembering it wrong, but...” He pushes himself up on one elbow to squint at Dan. “Did the island...disappear?”

“Well...” Daniel exhales, and lets out a single breathless laugh. “Good news and bad news,” he says, and he looks out at the empty horizon, blinking against the too-bright sunlight reflecting off the waves. “Good news, you're not crazy. Bad news...you're not crazy.” He turns back to Peter. “The island is gone.”

He sighs, and relaxes, resting his head on the surface of the float. “Super.” He coughs a few more times and closes his eyes. “Now what?”

Daniel looks around; the largest remnants of the Kahana are barely visible now, almost entirely submerged in the distance. There's still a considerable amount of debris around them, floating in bits and pieces, but nothing that looks particularly useful.

And here and there among the wreckage, he can see a few bodies – or pieces thereof – bobbing in the waves, most of them facedown and all of them motionless.

He tries not to look too closely at those.

“We need to find where the helicopter crashed,” he states, and he looks down at Peter. “It– It was still in the air after the island moved, so it must have just gone down somewhere. There should have been a life raft aboard, and if there are any survivors, that's where we want to be. And even if– if no one made it out, the raft should still be there regardless.” He scratches his head and shrugs a bit. “Either way, it's our best chance.”

“What, and leave all this luxury behind?” Peter waves a hand to their surroundings with something between a smile and a grimace.

Daniel laughs a little as he scans the horizon to the east, toward where the island used to be, guesstimating the distance to the helicopter based on his brief glimpse of it from earlier. “Looked like two, maybe three miles, you think?” He pauses, then adds, “I guess you're not gonna be able to swim, huh,” and it's not really a question.

“No.” Peter closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“It's– Hey, don't worry about it, alright? It's not a problem, I just... I need a minute to catch my breath, first.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I am not, exactly, the most fantastic swimmer in the world.”

“If you...” Peter begins quietly. “If you have to leave me behind, I wouldn't hold it against you.”

Daniel blinks, and turns to face him. “Oh... No. No, I'm not doing that.”

“Oh, thank God, because I didn't really mean it,” he says in a rush, visibly relieved.

“Yeah, no, I'm...” Daniel shakes his head. “And besides–” He places one hand on the side of the float. “I'm gonna need this anyway, for breaks.”

“What, you mean you don't wanna swim three miles without stopping?”

He chuckles and gestures to himself. “I know, I definitely look like the super athletic type, don't I?”

Peter's laugh turns into a string of coughs. “So, once we make it to the raft,” he says after catching his breath, and then, “If we make it to the raft... What then?”

“I don't know.” Daniel swallows. “I don't really...have a plan, after that, but...”

Peter nods slowly. “Might as well die on a raft instead of a box,” he sighs.

“Something like that.” Dan looks out over the waves again with a heavy exhale. It's not going to get any closer; if anything, it might be drifting further away while he wastes time. “Okay,” he says finally, shrugging off his backpack. “Would you mind, uh...”

“Got it.” Peter takes the pack and hooks an arm through the straps as Dan carefully lowers himself into the warm water.

The rope attached to the perimeter of the float provides an easy handhold, and Daniel loops it around his wrist to secure it, then pauses and turns back toward Peter. “East, right?” He points, not trusting his own sense of direction, especially with the disorienting waves all around.

Peter cranes his neck to find the afternoon sun, still high in the sky but slowly setting in the opposite direction, and gives a confident nod. “Right.”

And Daniel takes a deep breath and starts swimming.

(next chapter)

#lost #fanfiction #daniel faraday #lost show #abc lost #yeah this is another repost #is it leading to something new? ONLY TIME WILL TELL

[frostsinth]

Of Sand & Sea - Prequel

@thava commissioned a prequel of my one-shot HERE, curious about the first meeting between Guppy and Gull. This was a great time for me, I had a lot of fun! I hope it’s everything you were looking for! It ran a little longer than planned, but I don’t think you’ll mind :D

Enjoy my work? Consider going to BuyMeACoffee to show your support. You can find the link in my MASTERLIST. Feel free to check out my other ramblings while you are there. DM me if you are interested in a commission of your own!

Enjoy, and Happy New Year!

The beach seemed a pleasant place. The crash of the waves, steady and rhythmic against the shore, filled her ears. The briny scent filled her lungs and washed away the stinging behind her eyes, though she still gave sad little sniffles every now and then. The girl walked along the sand, sweeping an abandoned bit of driftwood back and forth in front of her as she did. Far too young to be left alone to wander, but far too forgotten by the world for anyone to notice. She was dressed simply; an off-white tunic dress, old and over sized, that fell past her knees. The sleeves had been roughly shorn away, leaving her tawny kissed skin bare to the warm sun. She wiped the back of a sandy hand at her eye, blinking away the last of her tears.

This was her mother’s lands, she had been told. The islands of her forefathers. Whatever that meant. This particular island, small and entirely empty, had been her family’s for many generations. Though it had fallen into neglect after her grandmother had passed. Forgotten by the younger generation like some old heirloom left in the attic to gather cobwebs and mothballs. Far removed from the main islands and certainly off the map for tourists and greedy moguls. It was maybe only a few miles across in each direction, with a small grove of trees at the center which crowned the raised hillock where the house had been built. Though ‘house’ was a generous word, as the structure only had a few rooms and was set high on stilts. Like something out of a picture book, she had decided upon first seeing it.

This was her first time here, and as soon as she had buried her bare feet in the soft, warm sands, she had felt... different. More at home than she had in a long time. Not since…

The girl sighed, far too heavily for someone of her age, looking out across the stony beach to the ocean beyond. A weight in the corners of her large brown eyes that the waves could not so easily wash away. Her uncle thought it would be nice to bring her here. To get away from the city and have some quiet. Though he was always working... He knew nothing about children; had no concept of what she needed. He tried, to some extent. Bought her clothes, asked her what foods she liked. But more often than not, he would be in his own world, and forget she even existed. Spending his time lost in his writing, or his books.

She found she didn’t particularly mind. He was awkward, and a little strange. They were still trying to establish their relationship, so suddenly forced together. And he was older, with rickety knees and greying hair. He couldn’t keep up with her, and seemed to quickly tire of her lack of understanding and occasional emotional outbursts. As had happened this morning. They had been on the island for nearly a week now, and she had stayed in the house on the hill for the most part. Timid and frightened of the rest of the seemingly wild place. But she had nervously lingered too close to him for too long. Had gotten in his way one too many times.

His harsh words still rang in her ears as she wandered along the beach. The little patch of trees she had bolted to hadn’t been nearly so scary as the volume of his voice. And he hadn’t followed her. Hadn’t chased after her to make sure she was ok, or to apologize for losing his temper with her. So she wandered farther away, first down toward the rickety old dock where their small little boat was tethered. Then further, along the sands and stones, to the far side of the island. Clambering over rocks where she needed to, swinging her stick back and forth.

No, she decided. The island was not nearly so scary as she had first thought. And there was lots to look at. Sea birds who cawed overhead and gathered on the rocks to look at her with curious, beady eyes. Crabs that scuttled out of her way, or raised their claws at her stick when she poked gently at them. Lots and lots of shells too. Some half buried in the sands, some laying on top. As the last of her tears dried in the warm sun, leaving tracks down her dirty face, she began to collect them. Gathering them up in her dress. Tossing her stick to the side in favor of sandy shells and shiny stones.

A particularly large and gleaming shell caught her eye a little while later, tucked between some large rocks right at the edge of the water. She could see the foam from the waves splash up just beyond them, and eyed them nervously. She had never been taught to swim, and her uncle told such frightening stories of little girls being washed out to sea. But the temptation of the shell was far too great to be belittled by her fear of the water.

She piled her bounty on the sand, then carefully clambered over the damp rocks. They were quite slippery in places, and more than once her balance was challenged by their shifting and sliding. But she found a little burst of pride in herself as she managed to reach the top of one particularly large rock in front of her prize, and stood there a moment to peer at the little cove around her.

The little girl suddenly became distinctly aware of a soft sound, echoing above the crash of the waves. It sounded like a warble, a keening. Sad, and melancholy. It made her heart quicken and her fear rise again. Her large eyes darted about nervously, wondering if ghosts could come out during the day. Her curly dark auburn locks bounced about her eyes as she searched. Something moved near the head of the semicircle of rocks that formed this corner of beach, and her heart jumped. But then the keening wail came again, chirping now. Sad, but also… frightened.

She clutched her prize shell close to her chest as she cautiously ventured closer. Climbing timidly over the rocks, careful to avoid the little pools of water gathered in between where the waves crested the taller boulders to splash bits of ocean into the crevices. 

The rocks clicked and shifted ahead of her, and she was distinctly aware of the movement seeming more frantic as she drew closer. Something sploshed, and slapped. Sounding like wet cloth smacking against the stones. She could finally see it more clearly now, and the girl ducked behind a rock in fright at what she saw. 

At first, she had thought it was another child, naked and laying half in a shallow little puddle of water amid the stones. It certainly looked like a fat child, but with greenish-teal skin and a mop of seaweed colored locks on the top of its bulbous head. She braved another peek around the rock, easing a little closer. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone else living on this island. Her uncle had told her as much, and she hadn’t any reason to disbelieve him. Curiosity overtook her fear, and she snuck closer. Perhaps a little more lonely than she would ever admit, and hoping for someone other than her uncle to talk to.

The rocks shifted and clacked beneath her feet as she moved a little closer. And the teal-skinned child’s head snapped around at the noise. Fixing her with large, bright yellow eyes.

She froze, shocked. She had never seen such eyes before! They had no whites, and it seemed like the boy had no eyebrows above them. Instead, his brow bowed out, like he had been stung by a bee. Lots of bees, she guessed, because it was very big. It was a boy, or at least, she thought it might be a boy. He had chubby cheeks and messy green hair, narrow little shoulders and spindly arms. The shape of his head and the color of his skin was distracting, but she was pretty sure it was a boy.

When he saw her, his eyes seemed to get larger. He wriggled, and kicked, as if trying to move closer. She jumped at that, skittering a few steps backwards. Her feet slipped on the stones and she gave a soft yelp as she fell. Landing hard on her bottom on the wet stones, her ragged dress becoming quickly soaked at the hem with the intermittent little puddles of water. Her shell went flying, landing a few feet away from them both, but closer to him than her. He froze at that, and stared back at her. Suddenly frightened of the strange looking boy, she crawled backwards, until her back hit a large boulder.

But he didn’t move to follow her. Though she saw him wriggle and scramble again. He gave a huff at his efforts, then the soft, keening wail came from his mouth. She had never heard such a sound before. She blinked at him, watching him collapse on his stomach in the puddle, splashing about. Yanking at his lower half, which appeared to be half under a rock.

A year ago, she had found a rabbit, stuck in a fence. Its back legs unable to fit through the opening its head and shoulders had managed to wriggle through. She remembered the way it had thrashed and kicked, its eyes wide. It had even squeaked, as if in pain, and had seemed even more frantic when she had approached.

The boy with the strange eyes and skin moved the same way as that rabbit. She watched him for a moment, until he lay still once more. After a little while, he craned his neck back. As if to see if she was still there.

“... Are you stuck?” She asked him, her voice a little soft for its timid-ness.

He blinked at her slowly, as if surprised to hear words coming from her mouth. Slowly, she eased herself back to her feet. Then carefully skirted her way over, giving him as wide a berth as she was able. His eyes followed her as she moved. They were a little eerie, but she squared her jaw stubbornly, and turned her own attention to the rock on his legs. It was big, not nearly so large as her, but it looked heavy. With a final glance at the strange boy, she put her shoulder against it and shoved with all her might. It shifted, and she heard the crunch of other rocks around them. But it didn’t  move much. After a moment, she had to relent, and stepped back.

A check on the boy found him still watching her, and she noticed now that she could see him properly he didn’t seem to have ears. Instead, there were fins protruding from beneath his hair, and what she thought looked like little pink slashes on his fat neck. He looked strange… but not that scary anymore, now that she was closer. She could see specks of yellow across his nose and cheeks, and over his shoulders, arms, and chest. Like freckles, she decided. She had a few freckles, though hers were brown, not yellow. But the color seemed fitting on him, since he was a greenish-blue, and she paid it no further mind. Turning her attention back to the rock.

“It’s heavy,” She admitted, then glanced back at him, “But I can try again… pull your legs out, ok?”

He watched her silently, and for a second she wondered if he could understand her. There were some people who couldn’t, she knew. Some people on the main island spoke with different sounds and words that she didn’t understand. Her uncle had said they spoke a different language, though he hadn’t fully explained what that meant. But after a moment, the green boy nodded slightly and she gave him a small smile. So he could understand her then. Good!

“Ok, on three,” She instructed, leveling her boney shoulder against the rock again, “One, two, THREE!”

She shoved with all the might her little five year old body could manage, though her feet slid in the wet pebbles at her feet with the effort. Still, the rock lifted, just a little, and with a SHLUP, the boy scuttled backwards. Just in time too, as she lost her balance and dropped the rock back down moments later.

She slipped the rest of the way, falling onto her bottom again. The rock shifted, and both of them gasped nervously. But then it fell still, and after a moment, her face split into a broad grin. She even laughed a little, looking over at the boy to see if he shared in her mirth.

It was only then she realized it was not legs he had pulled out from under the stone. She wasn’t sure what they were, but there was more than two of them. They wriggled and twitched under her scrutiny, curling and uncurling. They were the same color as his body, but the undersides were pink with little suckers every few inches in matching pairs. As she watched, frozen in surprise, the boy inched a little closer. Seeming to snake his way over the rocks. The strange appendages carried him like legs, with his upper body propped straight up as hers was when she stood. But they didn’t move like her legs, more like fingers. Or like a spider perhaps, though they looked squishy like spaghetti. She was so surprised by the sight of him, she hadn’t realized the little boy had crawled right up to her, and was now peering at her nose to nose.

“... Who are you?” He asked her after another moment, and his voice sounded like he was speaking through a mouthful of water. His breath was salty, and he smelled like the ocean.

She blinked at him stupidly for a moment. “Me?”

He nodded, then reached out one stubby teal finger, poking her shoulder curiously. “... You’re all tan and pink. Like a gull without feathers.”

She pushed his head away. “Well, you’re all green! Like seaweed!” She shot back.

He scoffed, and she jumped as one of his weird feet fell on her ankle. “I look how I’m supposed to look. You’re the weird one.”

She shook her head. “You’re the weird one! And you smell like fish!”

His head cocked to the side, and she watched his nose flare as he sniffed at her. “You smell like sand, I think.” He seemed to consider this, looking her over. “What’s wrong with your tentacles? Why do you only have two?”

“Tentacles?” She echoed the strange word, and he grinned at her. Baring stubby little white teeth.

“Yeah, these.” He held one up, wriggling it in front of her face. Then poked her nose with its tip.

She cried out softly in surprise, covering her nose with both her hands. That made him laugh quietly. “I don’t have those!” She exclaimed through her fingers. “I have legs!” 

She lifted one up slightly in illustration. He looked at it, then wrapped two of his tentacles around it. She giggled, kicking slightly.

“That tickles!”

“You’re weird, little Gull.” He told her, uncurling from around her leg and sitting back slightly to appraise her again. Then his grin returned. “I like you.”

“Do you live here?” She asked curiously, shifting into a better seat and wrapping her arms around her knees.

He shook his head, then pointed out to the sea. “I live there, of course.”

“In the ocean?”

He nodded. “Yeah, don’t you?”

She laughed. “Of course not! I can’t swim.” She turned and pointed over her shoulder to the small hillock behind them above the copse of trees. “I live up there. Well, right now anyway.”

“How can you live so far from the water?” He sounded surprised. “How do you stay wet?”

“I don’t want to stay wet!” She argued. “I want to get dry!”

“You’ve got it all backwards, silly Gull!” He shook his head, exasperated. “Getting too dry will make you sick!”

“But my bed would feel really gross if it was wet all the time.” She reasoned, thinking it over. “And I’m usually dry, and I’m not sick.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re sand colored all over.” He mused, reaching out with his tentacles as he leaned back on his hands, running them appraisingly over her arms. “You dried out too much.”

She thought that over for a moment, watching his tentacles skim over her arms. “No, I think I’m supposed to be like this. Everyone else I know looks like this too. I’ve never seen anyone who looks like you...” She reached out, touching the thicker body of one tentacle currently wrapping around her opposite wrist curiously. “Maybe you stayed in the water too long, and that’s why your legs and skin look funny.”

He unwrapped his tentacle, pulling it back and leaning forward to take up her hand with his. His skin was cool to the touch, and had a weird quality to it. Like a slug’s skin, but not so gross as that. She didn’t mind him touching her, turning her hand about and rubbing his thumbs along its length curiously. He lifted it up, looking at the underside of her arm, then sighed and let it drop back down.

“I’ve never seen anyone like you, little Gull. Are you sure you’re supposed to look like this?” He curled and uncurled his tentacles beneath him, inching in a half circle around her as he looked her over again. “Maybe you’re under some spell.”

“A spell?” She echoed, spinning to watch him circle her. Fascinated by the way he moved. As he completed his circuit, he slunk over to the pool of water, easing slowly down into it before laying flat on his belly so the water lapped over his back. Propping his head on his hands to look over at her again. “What kind of spell?”

He shrugged his knubby little shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know. I used to hear stories about people under spells. They have to walk the land alone forever and never return to the sea.” He twirled his tentacles back and forth behind him. “Maybe that’s what happened to you.”

She paused, falling silent and suddenly remembering her sadness. Resting her chin on her knees. “Maybe…”

They fell silent for a minute, and he seemed a bit puzzled at this. At her sudden switch. He chewed on his cheek, then shifted, rolling back out of the puddle. Water dripping from his teal skin.

“The stories say you can break the spell though.” He offered tentatively, scooching closer. One long tentacle reached out, plucking the large shell from where it had fallen. Bringing it back over and holding it out to her.

She took it with a soft sniffle. “... Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Maybe you just need to come back to the sea.” He poked her shoulder again. “Then you’ll get the ocean back in your blood.”

“I don’t know how to swim.” She reminded him.

“I can teach you!” He replied eagerly. But she quickly shook her head. “Come on, it’s easy!”

“For you, maybe.” She scoffed, running her hands over the shell in her lap. “You’re a fish!”

He scowled at her. “I am not a fish!”

“Oh yeah? Then what are you?”

He paused, thinking this over for a moment. “Well… I’m… I’m just…” He straightened, puffing up his chest. “I’m Gupslessiano.”

“... Glupses-”

“Gupslessiano.”

“Gupplessan-”

“GUPSLESSIANO!”

She shook her head. “That’s too hard to say…. How about Guppy?”

The boy chewed that over, leaning back. “... Hmmm… I suppose it’s ok if you call me Guppy.” His bright yellow eyes darted to her. “But only if I can call you Gull!”

She grinned at him. “Deal!”

“So then, Gull,” He keened, skittering back a few steps, “... Wanna play a game?”

... The End

#merman #octomer #merman lover #sea monster #sea monster lover #sea monster boyfriend #childhood friends #first meeting #prequel #terato #exophilia #monster x human #monster romance #monster fluff

[bigskydreaming]

Well now I'm curious. Are there any crocodile shifters in this story? Is that the Alpha Pack? And does that make Jennifer a sea witch? I'm invested and I want to know more!

Also, random questions about your Beacon Bay story: is this on an island or a peninsula or something? Is the Nemeton a lighthouse or something similar, really leaning into that whole beacon metaphor? Is there a star-crossed lovers thing going on here at all (*cough*scanny*cough*)?

Sadly, no crocodile shifters in the actual story, though it was more written as a series of shorter episodic stories that I bounced around between. And the crocodile shifters are just sitting there ripe for the picking, its just I didn’t have need of any in the story and/or characters they matched up well with. The Alpha Pack isn’t really a thing here, mostly because I was like “I am Deucalion, the Demon Dolphin” doesn’t really have quite the right ring to it and also he’s just honestly not my favorite villain, he’s too ridiculous. Its like calm down dude, who do you think you are, Death, the Destroyer of Worlds? Oh wait. Awkward.

But now that I think about it, I hardly ever got the urge to use Deucalion as an antagonist? Just running through my WIP files real quick, and off the top of my head, my villain breakdown in TW fics was:

Lightning Crashes: the nogitsune, Jennifer, Kali and Theo

Where Wild Things Are: Peter, Matt and Gerard

Beacon Bay: Corrine, Peter and Theo

Loki’s Get:

Ouroboros Dreaming (Jackson’s Story): Peter’s ghost, metaphorically

Fenris Waking (Scott’s Story): Peter’s ghost, less metaphorically

Hel Rising (Lydia’s Story): Peter’s ghost, least metaphorically. Also, Hell. But mostly just the suburbs of it.

Born to Run: Jennifer. (That random The Most Dangerous Game rip-off with Scott and Jackson. Making the bad guys hunters was like, eh, so I went with necromancy instead).

The Forest or the Trees: the Nemeton. Like, the tree itself. Also, demon fruit. Look, its that AU where Scott’s a druid and Danny’s a werewolf, the tree wants to kill Scott, its a whole thing.

So, My Step-Brother’s Probably A Werewolf: The deadpool. Basically a S4 AU where Dr. Geyer and Melissa have a whirlwind romance and Liam’s trying to figure out why the fuck his new step-brother is so weird.

Forgetting’s Just Another Way of Saying Fuck You: Theo and the Dread Doctors. This one was that one S5 AU I was writing where the Dread Doctors used their forgetting/mind-wipe powers to make everyone forget about Scott, except they ironically forgot about people outside the town, meaning Isaac, Jackson and assorted others still remembered him. Aka that expansive headcanon that was literally the exact same thing as Season 6′s ‘forgetting Stiles’ plot, only posted about a full year before S6 even started shooting BUT I DIGRESS. (I’m just saying, it was a pretty specific plot, only using the DD instead of the Ghost Riders, but whaaaaatever). LOL.

So the only times I’ve ever really used Deucalion beyond peripheral werewolf politics in Where Wild Things Are is in that one Scydia I was writing, Kingmaker, and also an unwieldy behemoth that somehow got to six chapters without a title, where like, when the Alpha Pack came to town in 3A they used their werewolf memory-sucking mojo to steal Scott’s memories and thus make him more susceptible to Deucalion’s recruitment pitch while everyone else was like nuh-uh, THEY’RE the bad guys. 

(Oh and also he did show up in one part I wrote for this Leverage meets Ocean’s Eleven mash-up, with a cast of Scott and the Chimeras. Remember how way back before Eichen House was introduced, Chris made an allusion to there being a werewolf jail they could use to deal with werewolves.....so like, imagine if Chris had caught Scott in S1 but couldn’t justify killing him and then enter werewolf jail and Scott being like mmm, yeah, this isn’t working for me, I’m gonna jailbreak, who wants to come, and then he and random other characters from throughout the series just go around robbing the various douchebags of the series in ways that were mostly just an excuse for me to ‘practice writing action scenes and also heists and also I was bored.’ Also, there’s a distinct presence of multiple unnecessary car chases as apparently most of the times I added to this file came smack dab in the middle of my Fast and the Furious phase. I regret nothing. Also, everything.)

Anyway, as for Beacon Bay, no, Jennifer isn’t a sea witch in it mostly cuz she isn’t in it, as I’d already used her in a few other things and I wanted to give Corrine a whirl as the prime bad guy. So she’s like, an assassin witch for hire. Also, three thousand years old, and as mentioned, like....she’s Circe. 

Malia: Ugh, shut up, mom, nobody cares that you’re famous.

Mason (raises hand): I mean, I care, a little bit.

Liam (not helpfully): He asked her for her autograph.

Malia (to Scott): You see? This is why people should have to be over four feet tall to sit at the big kids’ table.

Brett (also not helpfully, but then, he isn’t trying to help, he doesn’t do that): To be fair, Liam’s the only actual Smurf present. Mason’s just Smurf-adjacent.

Mason: *beams*

Liam (staring at him in betrayal): How was that even a compliment? Why are you feeling complimented by that?

Mason: LET. ME. HAVE. THIS.

Anyway Part Two: the Anywayer.....I did not actually ever have any plans to make the Beacon part of Beacon Bay a literal lighthouse, as the town was less a point of interest for other supernatural beings because of Nemeton-type shenanigans, and more just purely because Peter’s a magical artifact oriented klepto who hooked up with Circe and then stole all her shit when sneaking out in the middle of the night and eighteen years later she’s still pissed and Peter’s just not home at the moment. So she’s like, “eh, I guess I could settle for just wiping this entire town off the map in the meanwhile. I needed a new hobby anyway.”

Anywayest, the conclusion: And yes of course it was Scanny. When, where faced with the possibility of Scanny, do I simply...not do the Scanny? Its like you don’t even know me right now.

[historybehindassassinscreed]

In Game:

Christoffa Corombo (Italian: Cristoforo Colombo), better known by the anglicized Christopher Columbus, was an Italian navigator, colonizer, and explorer who worked with the nation of Spain. His voyages across the Atlantic Ocean exposed the existence of the Americas to the Europeans and planted the very first seeds of the Spanish Empire, though his original intention was to find a western route to India and China.

It was in 1491 that he was first contacted by a Rodrigo Borgia, Grand Master of the Templar Order, who he knew only as "the Spaniard". The Spaniard offered a long-term business partnership with Christoffa, whereby he would sponsor his voyage. Luis, secretly an Assassin, suspected that the meeting was a trap, but the desperate Christoffa refused to heed his warnings.

Faced with little choice, Luis accompanied Christoffa to Venice, where Christoffa was to meet with his sponsor for the very first time. While Christoffa hurried to the meeting, Luis left for the local Thieves Guild to request its Assassin leader Antonio de Magianis for help in protecting his friend. Luis's intuition proved correct: the meeting was indeed a set-up, and the Assassin Ezio Auditore da Firenze assigned by Antonio to oversee the meeting arrived just in time to save Christoffa from murder; the Spaniard himself never showed.

Once his safety had been secured, Christoffa and Luis attempted to return to their lodgings, only to find that it had been raided by Borgia soldiers. Though their hostel's occupation would have been of little consequence to them, Christoffa's prized atlas was still inside. Its loss would not only jeopardize Christoffa's goal, but as it exposed the existence of the Americas, Luis feared the ramifications should it fall into the hands of the Templars. Without the means to fight the Borgia forces, they awaited Ezio at the Garden District, having asked him to meet them there should the meeting have gone askew. Ezio, unaware that Luis was an Assassin and not wishing to act as a mercenary-for-hire, was ever as reluctant when Christoffa and Luis asked Ezio to help them retrieve the atlas. Even so, he acquiesced due to the mission's possible connection with his archenemy, Rodrigo Borgia.

While the Assassin left to sneak into the hostel, Christoffa and Luis prepared for their departure at the Venetian harbor. As expected, Ezio returned with the atlas after escaping a pursuit by Borgia soldiers through the catacombs and streets of Venice. Although some parts of the atlas were indeed lost in the attack, they were able to retain the most significant maps—those drawn by the famed Turkish cartographer Piri Reis. While Christoffa momentarily left to check on the ships, Ezio advised Luis that he and Christoffa should bring their own protection the next time they come to Italy, to which Luis explained that their failure to do so owed to the Assassins of Spain being wiped out by the Spanish Inquisition, a remark that would prompt Ezio to venture to Aragon to save these Assassin on his own initiative. It was then that Christoffa returned to notify Luis that their ship was waiting on them to depart, and the two set sail back to Spain.

In Spain, Christoffa resumed his protracted negotiations with Castile in the hope that they would at some point finally concede to his requests for funds. Nevertheless, the prospect of such a sponsorship was kept perpetually on hold while Castile remained embroiled in their war against the Emirate of Granada, the last Moorish state in Iberia. With their treasury tied up in such a conflict, there was little cause for Queen Isabella to invest in a risky expedition.

Unbeknownst to Christoffa, this setback was orchestrated by the Templars themselves, who had one of their spies routinely provide false counsel to Emir Muhammad XII of Granada to dissuade him from surrender. By deliberately prolonging the war, they hoped to exhaust Castile's treasury and delay Christoffa's voyage, having failed to kill him, providing them with an opportunity to journey to the Americas and dominate the continent before its existence became common European knowledge.

Thanks to the intervention of Ezio, however, the Templar plot was ended, with the Assassin freeing Muhammad XII from Templar captivity after they took him hostage in retaliation for their spy's assassination and convincing the emir to at last abdicate the throne. Christoffa was present in Granada itself as it fell to the Spanish forces, meeting with Ezio, Luis, and their friend Raphael Sánchez just as Spanish soldiers entered the city. Despite how little time had passed since the surrender of the city, Christoffa immediately set out to urge Queen Isabella to lend him the funds for his voyage.

As soon as Luis had been informed by Queen Isabella of Christoffa's departure, he instantly deduced that the supposed offer by Louis XII was a trap and anxiously sent Ezio to save Christoffa's life yet again. To persuade him to return to him, he told Ezio to preemptively tell Christoffa that Queen Isabella had changed her mind, intending to fund half the expedition out of his pocket for his sake. Ezio intercepted Christoffa just moments before he was ambushed by a Templar guard captain, who Ezio slew after a brief fight. While Christoffa was skeptical of Ezio's claim that Louis XII had never actually offered his sponsorship, Ezio assured him that this was a moot point given that Queen Isabella was now open to his proposal. With that, Christoffa returned with Ezio to meet with Queen Isabella, just as she reached an agreement with Luis to sponsor Christoffa's voyage at last—but only because Luis promised to cover half the expenses.

That same year, the Assassin Aguilar de Nerha entrusted Christoffa with an Apple of Eden, tasking him to keep it safe after having wrestled it from Tomás de Torquemada when Grand Inquisitor sought to take it from Muhammad XII.

Christoffa kept the artifact until his death, and he was eventually buried with it at the Seville Cathedral. There, it would remain until the Templars, learning of its location from viewing the genetic memories of Aguilar through the Animus, took it from his tomb in 2016.

In Real Life:

Christopher Columbus was born in Genoa, part of present-day Italy, in 1451. His parents’ names were Dominico Colombo and Susanna Fontanarossa. He had three brothers: Bartholomew, Giovanni, and Giacomo; and a sister named Bianchinetta. Christopher became an apprentice in his father’s wool weaving business, but he also studied mapmaking and sailing as well. 

His career as a seaman began effectively in the Portuguese merchant marine. After surviving a shipwreck off Cape Saint Vincent at the southwestern point of Portugal in 1476, he based himself in Lisbon, together with his brother Bartholomew. Both were employed as chart makers, but Columbus was principally a seagoing entrepreneur. In 1477 he sailed to Iceland and Ireland with the merchant marine, and in 1478 he was buying sugar in Madeira as an agent for the Genoese firm of Centurioni.

In 1479 he met and married Felipa Perestrello e Moniz, a member of an impoverished noble Portuguese family. Their son, Diego, was born in 1480. Between 1482 and 1485 Columbus traded along the Guinea and Gold coasts of tropical West Africa and made at least one voyage to the Portuguese fortress of São Jorge da Mina (now Elmina, Ghana) there, gaining knowledge of Portuguese navigation and the Atlantic wind systems along the way. Felipa died in 1485, and Columbus took as his mistress Beatriz Enríquez de Harana of Córdoba, by whom he had his second son, Ferdinand.

In 1484 Columbus began seeking support for an Atlantic crossing from King John II of Portugal but was denied aid. (Some conspiracy theorists have alleged that Columbus made a secret pact with the monarch, but there is no evidence of this.) By 1486 Columbus was firmly in Spain, asking for patronage from King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella. After at least two rejections, he at last obtained royal support in January 1492. This was achieved chiefly through the interventions of the Spanish treasurer, Luis de Santángel, and of the Franciscan friars of La Rábida, near Huelva, with whom Columbus had stayed in the summer of 1491. Juan Pérez of La Rábida had been one of the queen’s confessors and perhaps procured him the crucial audience.

(Image source)

Christian missionary and anti-Islamic fervour, the power of Castile and Aragon, the fear of Portugal, the lust for gold, the desire for adventure, the hope of conquests, and Europe’s genuine need for a reliable supply of herbs and spices for cooking, preserving, and medicine all combined to produce an explosion of energy that launched the first voyage. Columbus had been present at the siege of Granada, which was the last Moorish stronghold to fall to Spain (January 2, 1492), and he was, in fact, riding back from Granada to La Rábida when he was recalled to the Spanish court and the vital royal audience. Granada’s fall had produced euphoria among Spanish Christians and encouraged designs of ultimate triumph over the Islamic world, albeit chiefly, perhaps, by the back way round the globe. A direct assault eastward could prove difficult, because the Ottoman Empire and other Islamic states in the region had been gaining strength at a pace that was threatening the Christian monarchies themselves. The Islamic powers had effectively closed the land routes to the East and made the sea route south from the Red Sea extremely hard to access. 

Thus a great number of interests were involved in this adventure, which was, in essence, the attempt to find a route to the rich land of Cathay (China), to India, and to the fabled gold and spice islands of the East by sailing westward over what was presumed to be open sea. Columbus himself clearly hoped to rise from his humble beginnings in this way, to accumulate riches for his family, and to join the ranks of the nobility of Spain. In a similar manner, but at a more exalted level, the Catholic Monarchs hoped that such an enterprise would gain them greater status among the monarchies of Europe, especially against their main rival, Portugal. Then, in alliance with the papacy (in this case, with the Borgia pope Alexander VI), they might hope to take the lead in the Christian war against the infidel.

(Image source)

The ships for the first voyage—the Niña, Pinta, and Santa María—were fitted out at Palos, on the Tinto River in Spain. Consortia put together by a royal treasury official and composed mainly of Genoese and Florentine bankers in Sevilla (Seville) provided at least 1,140,000 maravedis to outfit the expedition, and Columbus supplied more than a third of the sum contributed by the king and queen. Queen Isabella did not, then, have to pawn her jewels (a myth first put about by Bartolomé de Las Casas in the 16th century).

The little fleet left on August 3rd, 1492. The admiral’s navigational genius showed itself immediately, for they sailed southward to the Canary Islands, off the northwest African mainland, rather than sailing due west to the islands of the Azores. The westerlies prevailing in the Azores had defeated previous attempts to sail to the west, but in the Canaries the three ships could pick up the northeast trade winds; supposedly, they could trust to the westerlies for their return. After nearly a month in the Canaries the ships set out from San Sebastián de la Gomera on September 6th.

Adverse winds carried the fleet to an island called Ayti (Haiti) by its Taino inhabitants; on December 6th Columbus renamed it La Isla Española, or Hispaniola. He seems to have thought that Hispaniola might be Cipango or, if not Cipango, then perhaps one of the legendarily rich isles from which King Solomon’s triennial fleet brought back gold, gems, and spices to Jerusalem (1 Kings 10:11, 22); alternatively, he reasoned that the island could be related to the biblical kingdom of Sheba (Sabaʾ). There Columbus took at least enough gold and prosperity from the natives to save him from ridicule on his return to Spain.

On January 16th, 1493, Columbus left with his remaining two ships for Spain. The journey back was a nightmare. The westerlies did indeed direct them homeward, but in mid-February, a terrible storm engulfed the fleet. The Niña was driven to seek harbor at Santa Maria in the Azores, where Columbus led a pilgrimage of thanksgiving to the shrine of the Virgin; however, hostile Portuguese authorities temporarily imprisoned the group. After securing their freedom Columbus sailed on, stormbound, and the damaged ship limped to port in Lisbon. There he was obliged to interview with King John II. These events left Columbus under the suspicion of collaborating with Spain’s enemies and cast a shadow on his return to Palos on March 15.

On this first voyage, many tensions built up that was to remain through all of Columbus’s succeeding efforts. First and perhaps most damaging of all, the admiral’s apparently high religious and even mystical aspirations were incompatible with the realities of trading, competition, and colonization. Columbus never openly acknowledged this gulf and so was quite incapable of bridging it.

The gold, parrots, spices, and human captives Columbus displayed for his sovereigns at Barcelona convinced all of the need for a rapid second voyage. Columbus was now at the height of his popularity, and he led at least 17 ships out from Cádiz on September 25th, 1493. Colonization and Christian evangelization were openly included this time in the plans, and a group of friars shipped with him. The presence of some 1,300 salaried men with perhaps 200 private investors and a small troop of cavalry are a testimony to the anticipations for the expedition. 

By the time he died on May 20th, 1479, he had had a total of four voyages across the Atlantic. Columbus had reached Spain in November 1504 after his final voyage. He was not in good health. He spent much of the last of his life writing letters to obtain the percentage of wealth overdue to be paid to him, and trying to re-attain his governorship status, but was continually denied both. He died firmly believing that he had traveled to the eastern part of Asia.

Sources:

http://www.history.com/topics/exploration/christopher-columbus

https://www.biography.com/people/christopher-columbus-9254209

https://www.britannica.com/biography/Christopher-Columbus/The-fourth-voyage-and-final-years

http://exploration.marinersmuseum.org/subject/christopher-columbus/

#I have to say I'm not a fan of him personally #Assassin's Creed #People #Multi-Game #AC 2 #AC Movie

[macbetha]

Eyes Wide Open All the Time Preview: Chapter 23

After he completes his dealing route, Haru drags his feet back to the cabin and the ocean is gray with winter, the clouds glowing white with the hidden sunrise. He scrubs his face, eyes burning with exhaustion as he keys open the front door. Giggling and the sound of morning cartoons greet him; cold tension seeps away and his chest swells with warmth. He puts Mori’s bag on the coat rack and toes off his Converse as he takes in the sight before him. A blanket fort is left abandoned in the living room, along with the cartoons, so he follows the intoxicating scent of frying food to the kitchen. Nao sits at the island with Percy in his lap, watching Natsuya cook at the stove with a soft smile. Natsuya’s curls are a wild tumble from sleep, which was probably interrupted by Gou, who does not understand the glory of sleeping in. She’s at the island with Nao and telling Natsuya everything he missed while he was in rehab, sharing memories between chomps of blueberry pancakes. Haru steps closer and Nao arches a brow over a grin. “He remembered how much she liked them,” he mumbles, nodding to Gou’s pancakes. Haru smiles tiredly at that, blinking when Natsuya passes him an omelet the size of God. Hunger curls through him and he devours his food, letting Gou hang off his shoulders and nodding to everything she says about her morning with Nao and Natsuya as her sitters. After breakfast, Gou leaves them alone in the kitchen to play with Percy in the living room. Gratefully, Haru bows his head at Nao and Natsuya. “Thank you for watching her, I’m sorry it was such short notice. Miho called last night about those deals and I didn’t know what to do.” He didn’t want to interrupt Rin and Sousuke’s date and call them to watch Gou – let them have what peace they can cling to, if only for a few more hours.   Nao waves the apology away and Natsuya offers a lazy grin, assuring, “She was a welcome distraction from everything going on.” He absently wipes the island down, his eyes lost to memories. “She’s nothing like Ikuya was as a kid. He slept ‘til noon, begged Mom to order a pizza, ate that, then went right back to sleep.” Nao reaches over and touches his hand, making Natsuya deflate with a sigh. He brings Nao’s fingers to his lips and kisses them in appreciation before saying, “At Rough Rabbit, I found old blueprints to some more abandoned railways. Some older members remember there being a railroad in the outskirts, so I’m going to keep digging and try to find a map – see if we can’t make our own path through the woods and find these Bloodhounds and get my brother back.” Haru lifts his chin with determination. “I’ll be right behind you. We all will.” Nao nods in assurance. Natsuya and Nao leave after that, but not before Gou embraces them. Natsuya props her on his hip to kiss her cheek and says, “It was wonderful to see you again, Princess.” She grips his leather jacket earnestly. “You won’t be gone forever again, will you?” His face strains to repress emotion. “No.” A smile flutters about his mouth. “I’m here to stay.” She beams and hugs them both once more. Haru showers off the grime of the night, steam billowing off his skin, so good that he nearly falls asleep standing up. Afterwards, he puts on some sweats and immediately dives for Makoto’s flannel, which Haru wore home after their first night together. He inhales against the collar and calm washes over him, but his heart aches with loneliness. Haru shrugs on the shirt and thumbs through his phone, hesitating for a moment. He almost pours out his heart in the message, wanting to write I miss you, come see me, but he settles for good morning. The reply is instant. (っ◕‿◕)っ♥♥♥ Good morning!!! “Oh God,” Haru whispers, clutching his heart out of fear that it might truly burst because that’s the cutest shit he’s ever seen. He flops back on his bed and takes a deep breath and maybe a few dozen screenshots of the message to save for darker times. His phone buzzes another time. I missed waking up beside you Haru muffles his groan against a pillow, gripping his stomach so the butterflies will not tear free. He rolls over and stares up at the ceiling, stilling when an idea sparks to life. Pursing his lips around a smirk, he opens the camera app and switches it to the front-facing camera. His face looks like death warmed over from lack of sleep, so he angles it lower and straightens his arm to lean further away from the phone. The wider shot gets the column of his throat and the sharp rise of his collar bones, Makoto’s flannel parted just enough to reveal the muscled valley between his pecs, which is still glistening from his shower. He doesn’t know what possess him to snap a picture and send it, but he goes along with it and adds the message, that make you feel better? He chews his grinning lip when Makoto responds. Oh my god In a good way or bad way? YOU made me trip over Echo and I landed on the bedroom floor but it was the best thing that’s ever happened to me I’m still texting from the floor I don’t even care. you’re everything. you are everything to me Haru’s laugh rings through the room and he hugs a pillow to his chest.

#aye we're back with it y'all! #i missed these boys so much #like i knew i missed them but i started writing them again and just ugh i'm so excited to share! <3 #ewoatt #eyes wide open all the time #free! #makoharu #harumako #makoto tachibana #tachibana makoto #natsunao

[rovlemhage]

WBJ2017: Day Four, History

Yeah this is probably gonna be a short one as I’m making it up as I type it. Anyway hold on to yur popcorn and beverage of choice because here we go.

The planet formed and evolved and did what most planets do. At some point in the planets history some  millions of years ago it suddenly acquired a lot more water than it used to have, like due to several comet impacts or so scientists figure. That or deep cache’s in the planets crust were released. This caused a massive rise in the planets ocean levels to the point where very little land was left dry.

Luckily it didn’t wipe out all land dwelling life, the new islands and drastically reduced continent suddenly found themselves the remaining bastion’s of life. It’s also about this time it’s believed that evolution ended up kicking into high gear for land animals due to the sudden decrease in land and resources. Also about this time is a somewhat unsurprising dip in ocean life around much of the sunken land due to the massive die offs of creatures and plants trapped by the rising oceans, and the rotting of all the now dead things.

Life as usual found a way and life recovered and adapted to the drastic changes. Time passed further and humanity began to progress. Into new societies and new technology. Sailing was discovered and either through discontent, wanderlust, or just because they could groups would set out from Cradlal and began to inhabit the other islands. Through one of the islands a cave was discovered massive, and interestingly to the tribe that lived on the island. It had a small offshoot that open into the ocean deep beneath the surface. This cave would eventually inspire an idea, if more space above the sea was limited. What could be done about space below the sea.

Technology progressed and from stories originally just told about the cave, which eventually inspired lies about knowing other similar caves, those then inspired even wilder stories of undersea castles. Or the caves acting as portals to whole other worlds. And during this whole time technology progress. Smiting, engineering, mechanics, electronics, sciences and forging. Until at last someone decides to dedicate their life and wealth. To making the stories of vast undersea kingdoms full of castles.

They called that person dumb, or mad, unfit to posses their wealth. Years later when the critical discoveries were made. They called the person a visionary, and genius, and one of the few fit to lead. It was their hard work that lead to the founding of the first under sea nations, one that still lasts till today(no I don’t have a name yet just call them the Firsters until I got something better). The secrete couldn’t be held on to though and the person knew it. They worked hard to keep it, to prevent it’s spread as they built their kingdom. But eventually the secrete spread at first just one other. But as it always does. It spread and spread. Until it wasn’t a secrete anymore. And now the sea nations were founded. Technology forged ahead, new kinds of subs, stronger and bigger bases. And better weapons for war followed us under the waves.

It’s been almost a thousand years sense the first foundations, and wars have come and gone but over all the map of the ocean has remained fairly static for the last few hundred years. Until now, a technological breakthrough that could change things is feeling to be on the verge, and whispered about in dark bars and taverns. There have also been rumors of strange sightings, well more rumors than normal that is, new subs, or some race never encountered is the real question. Of course the most common conversation is over the tension between several of the nations, a tension that feels ready to snap at almost any moment. The only thing most people can agree upon not being some kind of rumor is that map makers will soon have plenty to do.

I’m just a liar aren’t I, I said this would be short and I think it’s just about as long as the first post or two, maybe longer. Anyway this is a kind of general made up overview and I tried to keep it if not scientifically possible like the whole pockets of water in the planet crust releasing, or the plants and animals dying and causing the ocean a bunch of trouble. I tried to at least keep it sounding reasonable. And for the end there I kind of didn’t want to commit to anything specific as to what is going on during the start of the game—mostly because I don’t know myself quite yet—but I wanted to at least have something.

#WorldBuilding #World Building June #wbj2017 #WaterHex

[abakersquest]

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – AT THE HEART OF THE STORM

Through the rapidly rebuilding marketplace that was the center of Galaga, Wally and Hector rushed back to the God’s Fortune, having gone to Alion’s to pick up their fresh off the anvil armor. The thick burlap sacks they carried clanked up a terrible racket as the turned up a side street and rushed toward the northern pier where the Fortune had docked and finished resupplying for the journey ahead. With little fanfare and great speed, the ship set off toward the open ocean.

As the sails hooked onto a strong and constant wind on the slightly choppy sea, Wistea finished tying off some rigging and approached the captain. “So, you know where the Storm Bell and the Fount of the Sea are, yes?”

“’Course I do! Whaddya take me for?” Blackeye retorted.

“Then why did you make a map to it?”

“Map ain’t for me, s’for who I end up givin’ all my worldly possessions to. Most likely Polly, lessen she meets a swarthy young fella who c’n outsail both her n’ me to earn her hand!” The captain heartily chuckled. “The Storm Bell and the Fount are fine on their own for the most part, but it’s safer to check’em every decade or so… And the person who made the bell agreed. Before me, the only way to find the Storm Bell was the lighthouse that stood on the Cape of Galaga Island. Every ten years the sun would shine in the right spot and show the way to the bell. Once I got there and saw how important it was? I tore down the lighthouse to make sure the only ones who knew to find it were me, and whoever I gave that map to. Now that thievin’ no good toad’s got his hands on it… I shudder to think what he’ll do when he gets there.”

Wistea hummed thoughtfully. “And here I was lead to believe the Storm Bell was just to warn the Icthy Isles of oncoming storms.”

“Used to think that meself,” Blackeye nodded. “But really, the bell rings when it makes a storm. See, storms’re what keep the surface of the world fresh and new, they’re part of the circle that we can’t do without… So someone, at some point, made sure there’d always be storms on the horizon to keep things rollin’.”

Wistea looked out over the broad horizon of blue ahead of them and spoke to no one in particular, “Light warms the Water. The Water grants strength to the Storm. The Storm brings Fire to the Forest, and stirs the Air that fans the flame and shakes the trees. The burnt Forest returns life to Earth. The Earth buries its fallen seeds in life giving Darkness until they sprout, and rise to request the blessing of the Light. The appeased Light shines on the new Forest, and in turn warms the Water.” She turned to face Blackeye again. “It is the oldest reference of the Wheel of Creation ever written, dictated by Elder Ygg himself.”

Blackeye made a small, yet content, hum somewhere in the back of his throat. “That ol’ ash tree still kickin’ about then? Good to hear.”

Meanwhile on the gun deck, Hector and Wally worked the special metal latches of their armor into place as each part easily linked to the next with no trouble.

“And you say your father thought of this design because of jam jars?” Hector said as he looked over the latching mechanics of his new rerebrace.

“My father always hated the leather straps wearing down in his armor, so one day, my brother Dale comes up to him and shows him the brass latch on a jam jar, and says, ‘wouldn’t it be easier if the linkage was just metal?’ So he worked for a week straight on a latching mechanism that would secure easily, but not pop off in the middle of a fight.”

“You’ll absolutely have to introduce me to him when we get back home.” Hector tested his range of movement and found this armor much more flexible than any he’d worn before. “Judging by the look on Alion’s face when you rattled off the design specifics, your father’s a genius.”

Wally smiled warmly. “Just don’t call him that to his face, he hates praise for his work. Bit of a Walter family quirk. We prefer a job well done to praise.”

“Well, that explains that little twinge you try to hide every time anyone compliments you.”

Wally stood still for a moment after securing his breastplate, mentally reviewing such interactions as quickly as he could before shaking his head dismissively. “I don’t have a twinge.”

“Whatever you say, Sir Wally,” Hector chuckled.

On the deck above them, Rozzi sat on the edge of her bunk and carefully sharpened her sickle with a whetstone.  She noticed it’d taken on a slightly otherworldly shine lately, no doubt a result of it being used as a mystical conduit now. She’d ask Wistea about it later, as right now this task was both essential and sufficiently distracting from the subtle yet undeniable throb of pain from the soles of her feet. It was also so distracting she hadn’t even noticed Polly was sitting on the bunk across from her, staring directly at her.

Polly tilted her head to the side as she observed Rozzi, there were more silvery ethereal snowflakes around her than before, just like everyone else onboard. She’d seen others with barely any or none at all, but never so many surrounding any one person at any given moment. In all her years of perceiving these mysterious particles, she knew they stayed close to brave and honest people. They were always strong and ambitious, capable and cunning. Which is why, before now, she never thought to experiment, to do anything that might upset or confuse these strangers passing by her as she went on her way. But here, now, with someone she knew she could call a friend, she finally felt brave enough to reach out and touch one of the mysterious things. As her finger tapped against it, a chill ran sharply up Rozzi’s spine, her eyes snapping up to see Polly scrambling back onto the bunk behind her and slapping her back against the wall.

“P-Polly?  What? How long have…” Rozzi’s voice trailed off as she saw Polly was clearly shocked by something, her eyes wide as dinner plates, staring at a patch of floor. “Polly? Talk to me, what’s happenin’?”

“Is… Is there a hole in the floor?”

Rozzi looked carefully before she slowly shook her head.

“Oh wow,” Polly clambered off the bunk to the floor, tapping it several times. “That’s so strange!”

If confusion were lamp oil, Rozzi would’ve caught fire by now.

“He’s clear as day.” Polly carefully knocked what looked to Rozzi to be a bit of normal wooden flooring. “How’s that work, ain’t ever been able t’ look through stuff before without makin’ it invisible first…”

“Polly what on Mondia are you talking about?”

“I can see Wally! That armor looks really interestin’! Ah! Oh… It’s gone…”

“Are you gonna tell me what’s goin’ on or not?!” Rozzi loudly complained.

The young Icthyite looked up at her friend and very slowly realized how rude and odd she must have been just then. She laughed and smiled nervously before finally answering. “S-Sorry… Do y’ remember when I met all of ya? I said y’ all had somethin’?”

Rozzi crossed her arms impatiently and nodded.

“Well some people have’em, I still don’t know what they are but you and the others have tons of ‘em just floatin’ ‘round ya like snowflakes. Least they look like snowflakes t’ me.”

“And?”

“And… I ain’t ever tried t’ touch one before, seemed rude, Y’know? But we’re friends so I thought y’ wouldn’t mind. So, I went n’ touched the biggest one and then I just kinda knew Wally was down in the gun deck, like, I could see him through the floor n’ all!”

Rozzi’s expression would’ve graced a textbook example on incredulity.

“No really! Watch, I’ll do it again!”

As Polly reached for a space in the air just beside Rozzi’s head and tap something entirely unseen, she felt another sharp chill rush up her spine that made her shudder.

She pointed at the floor and called out, “Yeah! See! There he is again! And… I… Ooh I think he felt that too… He looks worried. Oh! He’s comin’ up the stairs!”

Rozzi watched as Polly’s eyes seemed to trace movements through solid wood, while an open minded notion sprang to life in her mind. “Polly, what color is Wally’s armor?”

“It’s a real deep kinda metal blue… Why?”

Rozzi found herself flinching as a series of polite knocks filled the room followed by Wally’s voice.

“Um… Is everything all right in there?”

Rozzi tried her very best to keep hold of everything that told her that was most likely a coincidence, but it was certainly slippery. “Wally? Oh, um, everythin’s fine just… Could you come in for a moment?”

As he stepped in, the wallaby’s eyes immediately checked the position of the privacy curtain they’d set up to separate the male and female section of the bunk room before settling on the sight of Polly sitting on the floor with a very proud smile and Rozzi on the edge of her bunk, with an out of place expression of surprise.

She was staring, she knew she was staring but she couldn’t help herself. When she’d first met Wally she had no real idea what to expect. Cinera had called her using her Farsight Stone and said she needed help sneaking a pair of knights into Arborledan, and to expect one of them to be surprising. Sure enough; the sight of this fellow barely a few inches taller than herself, with an almost overwhelmed and entirely nervous look to his face, had been very surprising. The first thing he did when they met was wipe down a table, his manner, the way he carried himself, it all spoke of someone who better suited a role behind a counter or decorating a shop window for a holiday. That image had persisted until today, until this very moment. Despite all the fighting and danger, despite his bravery and strength; he’d still been this kindly shopkeep in her eyes. For the first time, in dark blue armor that made everything about him seem all the more broad, the wallaby that stood before her was truly everything she’d ever pictured when she heard the word ‘knight,’

Then he noticed she was staring and nervously rubbed the back of his head, and suddenly there was the baker once more. She sighed happily that, despite it all, he was still himself.

“Um… Rozzi?”

“Just wanted to see the armor,” she replied. It certainly wasn’t an outright lie so she wasn’t worried about him noticing it was only half the truth. “Not up to movin’ ‘round on my own just yet y’know.”

“Is that all… Because I could’ve sworn… No, it’s nothing. Anyway, I’m going to have to get used to moving around in all this. Hector recommended I keep it on while making a meal for us all. Not at all looking forward to how much it might heat up next to that stove.”

“Oh!” Polly sprang up and almost skipped the distance between herself and him. “Wally, Wally, Wally! Stand still for a second!”

He watched her curiously as she seemed to jab a finger into the air beside him and shook slightly as a sudden chill raced up his back.

When he was about to ask what she just did he was caught entirely off guard by the impossibly giddy look on her face.

“Oooh, I think I got it figured now!”

Wally, entirely confused, looked to Rozzi for answers and received only a shrug. “Well… I hope someone’ll tell me what all this is about at some point.”

“Sure!” She pointed at the empty air by Rozzi, “that one’s you, and this one…” She pointed at the air by his head once more with no chills. “Is her! And they’re the same size n’ everythin’! So if this one…” Another jab shook Wally’s spine again. “Ooh…” She looked toward the wall. “Oh wow, I think that’s Wally’s mum! Well she looks like Wally and she’s makin’ a dress…”

“Polly!” Wally and Rozzi shouted in unison.

“Oh! Sorry! I didn’t explain. See, I see these silvery snowflake things ‘round people all the time, yeah? ‘Til just now I never knew what they were. Now I do! It’s other people! It’s love! It’s that thing y’ get when y’ care about someone even when there far aways. But only some people have as many as you two. Wistea has the least of ‘em and Grandpa’s got the most I ever seen! But people like that stupid robe wearin’ toad ain’t got a one.”

The two Animani shared a pensive look before Rozzi quickly unhooked her Farsight Stone from its chain and set it to spin on the bunk room floor, summoning up once more the image of Cinera the Seer.

“Well that is interesting! For the first time, I have no idea why you’re calling…” The old squirrel’s eyes settled on the cheery fish girl. “Ooh, but I think I’m starting to see why. Hello there young lady, what’s your name?”

Polly’s jaw had almost unhinged itself at the sight of Cinera; she barely uttered a few syllables before Cinera continued.

“Guessing you noticed the big halo, right? You live long enough yours’ll be this size too.”

“I HAVE ONE OF THOSE?!”

Wally and Rozzi looked them both over, unable to see what they meant. But Polly’s eyes beheld a massive swirling emblem of light within a circle, idly rotating behind the small frame of the Seer. The silvery snowflakes orbiting it in a serene pattern she’d never seen before.

“Yes my dear, and it’s coming along quite nicely. Might I ask, can you see them? Those silvery slivers of light around people?”

Polly nodded slowly.

“Mmm, but do you know what they are?

“Are they love? Because that’s what I was thinkin’...”

“Little more complicated than that my dear… But judging by your answer, you’ve already touched them. Did they feel like threads to you as well?”

Polly nodded once more.

“As we move through life, the thread of our existence ties itself onto others and they you. Since these are ethereal things that exist beyond the sight of mortal eyes, we who’re gifted with the attribute of Light can only see the smallest portion of them. That’s the snowflakes if you’re confused.”

“Wow…” Polly turned to Wally and Rozzi, watching the dance of silver sparkles only she could see around them.

“Now don’t go pullin’ at them, you’ll go blind.”

Polly quickly turned to the older mage and saluted. “Y-Yes ma’am!”

“Cinera,” Wally began. “Is Kota still blocking your foresight?”

“Yes. I’m afraid I’ll be of little use to you all as a guide from this moment forward. You’ll have to decide what steps to take from here.”

“So, you wouldn’t know why Kota’s Generals seem to be after powerful sources of magic?”

Cinera shook her head. “I’m afraid not, aside from an obvious notion that her banishment from the world twenty years ago must’ve weakened her severely. She may simply be trying to drain out the magic to regain her power. But that’s little more than a fancy guess.”

“Thank you anyway, Madam Seer,” Rozzi chimed in.

The old seer smiled at her, then looked Wally over. “Finally looking the part, eh?”

He couldn’t help but stand a little straighter. “Well, my mother always said you have to dress for the job you want.”

“Smart woman, I’ll be sure to visit her soon and let her know her boy’s doin’ well. But…”

Wally grew slightly concerned, “but what?”

“I should probably leave out the part where you’re courting a self professed bandit. She’s got enough on her mind as it is.”

Wally sighed in frustration as Rozzi giggled.

“Good to know I can still get under your skin despite the fancy armor, best of luck out there.”

“Thank you, Seer,” Wally grumbled as he snatched up the Farsight and handed it to Rozzi.

---

Captain Blackeye ground his teeth at the sight of the enormous vessel parked over the Storm Bell’s tower. It was every bit as imposing as his new crew described, a fortress suspended in the air by massive propellers. It’d taken a full two days to reach the tower, so there was no telling how much progress Kota’s forces would’ve made in the interim. Polly looked down from her place on the foremast crow’s nest and waited for her Grandfather’s signal. With a nod from him, the ship vanished from sight and silently closed the remaining distance.

On the foredeck, Hector, Wistea, and Wally watched through the haze created by Polly’s magic as the ship approached the tower of the Storm Bell. Its height suited its purpose perfectly as it reached almost as high as the Lunar Swell had into the sky. It was also apparently made of smooth stones the same color as the sunset currently behind it. The captain claimed the tower always matched the shade of sky, making it almost impossible to see if you weren’t looking for it. More imposing than the spire was the fact it and its foundation hovered above the center of an immense whirlpool, at the bottom of which rested the Fount of the Sea.

The captain cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “There’s an updraft we’re approachin’ Y’ jump there and you’ll make it all the way to the base of the tower no problem.”

While Hector and Wally nodded, Wistea replied “J-jump?! Over that?!”

Polly made her way down to the deck, one hand held up with a tiny bubble of light in her palm, the source of their current invisibility, Blackeye stepped over to the others as he let her take the wheel, limbering up a little as he approached. “Don’t know what you’re worried about Miss Faboi; you ain’t the one covered in heavy metal bits.”

In the light of the setting sun, the colors of the knight’s armors were only slightly muted. Hector’s a cool shade of silver with black trim a stark contrast to Wally’s blue and darker blue finish. They both looked to Wistea with brave smiles. “We know you’re not the most athletic of us,” Hector began. “So Wally will be the one to carry you over, wallabies are awful good at jumping, you know.”

The two then affixed their helmets on some similar silent cue that was meant to no doubt look dramatic and impressive. But Blackeye was looking at the tower in the distance, readying to jump, while Wistea couldn’t take her eyes off the abyssal darkness of the whirlpool.

“… Maybe next time…” Hector mumbled, feeling a little disheartened at the loss of the moment.

Wally reached up and patted him conciliatorily on the back.

“Alright,” Blackeye clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Get your backs to the far railin’ and get ready to run as hard as y’ can, only way you’ll make the jump.”

Wally walked over with everyone and perched his foot against one of the railing’s balusters, holding his arms out and smiling confidently at Wistea.

With some hesitation she bundled herself around him, mostly to assure he wouldn’t lose his grip on her, partly from absolute terror. In a concerned voice she asked, “th-that was true, right? That wallabies are good jumpers?”

He nodded and with a total feeling of pride answered, “Absolutely.”

“Now!” The captain shouted as he barreled forward.

Wally pushed off the baluster and, in an instant, was moving at top speed. He bounded once off the deck, landed on the far railing, and pushed off it without losing a drop of speed. Behind him, Hector and Blackeye leapt just as he was feeling the powerful upsurge of cold, salty air from the watery din below. He shifted his weight, pointed his feet forward, ignored the panicked noises Wistea made as she buried her face into his armored shoulder and braced for landing on the platform ahead. With all that momentum, his speed hardly diminished on contact, so he planted his tail and skidded along the surface until a small pillar in his path afforded him the chance to brake.

When Wistea finally managed to open her eyes, she saw Wally’s serious expression, his foot halfway buried into the pillar, and the trench his tail had dug out behind them. “M-maybe,” her voice was shaky. “You are a little too good at jumping…”

Watching from the deck, Polly let out a relived sigh as the landing party crossed the gap and gathered on the tower’s base, then set about addressing the noise from the wheel’s pedestal. When she opened the cap covering the voice pipe, Rozzi’s voice came in clearly.

“-ey made it right? I could barely see it through this porthole!”

“They’re fine! Meanwhile we’ll just keep circlin’ ‘long this current on the edge ‘til they’re ready to come back.”

Rozzi sighed, in both frustration and pain. She had barely limped over to the voice pipe in the bunk room, and standing by it was a painful chore. She knew she wouldn’t be much help on the mission, but not being on the front lines with everyone else was even more distressing. It’d be another two days before Wistea’s ointment would leave her entirely healed and ready to fight again. So for now, all she could do is wish her friends luck.

Their residual invisibility slowly expended as Wally and the others made their way to a secluded spot near the tower’s entrance, spotting a solitary Black Rock Knight guarding the large stone doors.

“It cannot be alone,” Wistea whispered. “They would not position just one guard, would they?”

“Nay lass,” Blackeye cautioned. “Those knights of theirs are as tough as yer average sortie… Seen just one plow through a whole town in under an hour once, they ain’t trifles.”

“What I don’t understand,” said Hector. “Why would they start at the bottom of the tower, they’re capable of dropping soldiers from the air, why not just take the Bell from the top?”

The captain shook his head. “Whoever made that bell thought of that, had an Orni’Hulan on my crew the last time I was here, flew up to try n’ get a better look, the bell rang and a bolt a lightning knocked him clean outta the sky.”

Wally looked up at the belfry from their hiding place and thought back to their first meeting with the Thorned Princess. When she was taking the energy of the Silent Marsh there was a protective barrier around her that Wistea had to crack open. “I don’t think they’ve even reached the Bell yet.”

“Likely ’cause it’s guarded by a series of traps, challenges, and these big fellas with hammers and mean dispositions. I made it to the top of the tower once y’ see, cost me a broken arm and a lot of time. In fact, I done almost starved before I made it to the top.”

They all looked back to the captain.

“Oh right, the ‘almost starvin’’ part. Don’t worry, this’ll be different. I’m not just makin’ it up as I go along this time!”

“Right then…” Hector began. “Wally, you move in to distract the knight, while Blackeye and I charge it from the side and try to force it off the tower’s base. If we can avoid a prolonged fight we’ll buy ourselves more catch up time. Wistea, you stay here and look out for anything else, join up once we take care of it.”

With plan in place, Wally drew the Flare and rushed in, the offending Knight spotting him instantly. The bulky thing clomped in place as it entered a combat stance and drew its own sword, a broad black blade with a strangely forked end. Without word or sound other than its own heavy footfalls, it rushed forward with unexpected speed to meet Wally. Wielding its weapon with one hand, it opened with a powerful overhead strike that shook his bones as he blocked it.

It was strong, stronger than the Rogue. With some doing, Wally moved one hand from the Flare’s grip and pressed it up against the blade’s broadside. He shoved with all his might, forcing the Black Rock Knight backward. When it reclaimed its footing its helmet tilted slightly, as if curiously scanning Wally, before it gripped its sword with both hands.

“Oh, taking me seriously now, eh?” Wally joked as he went on the offensive, more to secure his own will than anything else. Sparks flew with every clash of their blades, neither giving an inch of ground. The dark soldier reared its blade back and thrusted forward, attempting to spear Wally with the forked end. The wallaby leapt up, landing on the sword’s broadside, swiping his own sword across the Knight’s helm, taking a sizable chunk out of it and throwing the brute off balance.

Hector and Blackeye saw the opening and dashed from cover, setting upon the massive warrior and shoving it with all the muscle they could muster before it could rally. Inches from the platform edge it planted its feet and shook them off with a single swipe of its arm. As it lifted its sword above its head, aiming for Hector, a single stalk of bamboo sprang from the ground to strike it, tipping it backward just as its arms reached their highest. With the change in its center of gravity exploited, it could only tumble backward into the whirling abyss below.

“TAKE THAT YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A BOULDER!” Shouted Wistea as she threw her hands up in triumph, she then rushed down to meet the others.

“‘Sorry excuse for a boulder?’ You’ve been spending far too much time with Rozzi.” Hector chuckled.

“Well since she can’t be here in person, I should make sure she’s here in spirit. That’s something she would’ve said, ain’t that right?”

Hector winced slightly at the accent Wistea had just tried to put on and patted her gently on the shoulder. “You’re trying, that’s the important part.”

Before joining the others on their way to the tower doors, Wally caught sight of the chunk he’d cut off the Black Rock Knight. Unable to repress his curiosity, he picked it up and looked it over. He couldn’t shake the sense he’d seen something like it before so he set upon investigating it.

The churning salt air around the floating structure made smelling it nearly impossible, so he moved on to the next test. He popped his gauntlet off and ran his bare fingers over the sheered surface and realization abounded. “Coal? How can this be coal?” He pressed his thumb down on it and the small piece crumbled in his hand as any bit of coal would. Whatever magic had made it as resilient as armor was gone when the source fell to the sea. He quickly decided to log the discovery for later and focus on the task at hand.

The doors to the tower’s interior were tall and imposing, and just as the captain described, and made of the same stone that changed to match the color of the sky behind it, which became more notable as the sun dipped further down the horizon.

“Huh… Still here. Figured those scallops woulda just blown the doors off or somethin’” Captain Blackeye looked over his shoulder to everyone. “The doors only open if you tell the absolute truth. As in somethin’ you ain’t ever wanted anyone else t’ hear. Not like the time you took a bit o’ candy when you weren’t s’posed to.”

They all exchanged looks before Blackeye continued.

“Worse, the doors somehow know not to open ‘til we all say one. Learned a lot from me crew back then that I ain’t been able to forget…”

Wally rubbed his chin thoughtfully, what could he possibly say that could count?

Blackeye cleared his throat. “When Polly was born, the first time I saw her I cried like a child for almost a whole day.”

The doors creaked and clunked as old stone tumblers moved and jostled within. Wally struggled to think of something.

Hector followed suit. “In a practice duel with an old rival, I intentionally cut off two of his fingers out of petty spite.”

The doors continued to sound. Wally continued to draw a terrible blank.

Wistea swallowed audibly before speaking. “I… I am desperately trying to be as brave as I believe my brother would be in my place!”

The click of an enormous latch resonated.

Wally, like a pot of tea set to boil practically shouted the first thing that came to mind. “I’M IN LOVE WITH ROZZI!”

The doors did nothing.

Hector looked back at his friend. “I… Suppose it only counts if it’s something we didn’t already know, despite you never admitting it out loud.”

The wallaby’s head dropped as he sighed. A moment later he crooked his head up slightly, a single eye on the door as he curiously pronounced, “I’ve always hated my mother’s cooking?”

Another latch clicked loudly and the mighty stone doors swung open.

With a mockingly shocked tone, Hector set upon his diminutive friend. “Wally! What a thing to say! Your own mother’s home cooked meals?”

“She puts far too much salt in everything!” Wally called out defensively. “It’s ridiculous! And half the reason I moved out…”

Wistea couldn’t help but giggle, then look very ashamed of herself for it.

“Only gets more challenging from here crew,” Blackeye announced. “Best brace yourselves.”

Their levity quickly subsided and the four charged inside, the doors slamming shut behind them.

<[Chapter 16]–[Index]–[Chapter 18]>

#A Baker's Quest #Writing

[coruscantide]

One World, Three Eras

So. Scala ad Caelum, Daybreak Town and Radiant Garden. Many elements are tied between these three places, continuous connections stacking up, and while much of this was written beforehand, in light of the KHUX ending I’ve decided to expand on this more.

It’s long since confirmed that Daybreak Town and Scala ad Caelum are one and the same, but I have evidence to believe all three places are in fact the same location. That conclusion would certainly be something interesting since certain characters kept winding up back here again and again. As this is a very long post with several images attached and some spoilers in regards to KHUX, I’ll be placing the rest of this under a read more.

From here on out I’ll be referring to Daybreak Town as DT, Scala ad Caelum as Scala, and Radiant Garden as RG.

DT was at the center of the old world, one where ‘worlds’ didn’t exist yet and it was connected to all the other places by land. It was a bastion of light itself where unions gathered and collected Lux to defeat the Darkness. Post Keyblade War, the town converted into Scala, becoming known as a place centralized as a seat of power for Keyblade Wielders. Later on RG is referred to as the “ City of Light ” by Xehanort in BBS, much like how DT was considered.

We’re going to begin by drawing up parallels.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

This is more than a passing resemblance. These are towns / cities built directly on a large body of water  ( in addition to it’s structure it’s confirmed beaches / coasts don’t exist in DT and to get to one in game you need to sail with your friends to nearby island )  with different city districts based around similar architecture, a large clock planted directly in the middle in some form or another, and a complex irrigation system consisting of canals and waterfalls to drain the water and make sure the town doesn't get flooded.

We’ll touch on the similar architecture first. Aside from all three’s love of fountains and huge clock mechanisms, the buildings in particular look to have extremely similar styles. I’m not an expert but they seem to be nearly one to one. The major difference is the roof colors, DT with purple and RG with red and purple ( except during KH2 where it’s predominately only red ). I also wanted to point out sections of RG’s and Scala’s roads seem close in design.

Scala appeared more... i don’t know modern (?) in a sense compared to the other two, but progress on a design front was reset back to the DT-style when RG was created.

I wouldn’t be surprised by that as during a phase in Xehanort’s fight, you can see other parts of DT hidden in the foundation of Scala's buildings, the purple coloration painted over entirely. It may be a green and white color scheme now but the previous work is still there. It wouldn’t be to hard to believe it could be recreated.

In DT and RG the irrigation systems are heavily reliant on machinery / piping to function  ( there was a whole plot beat around it with the moogle shop ), but after the DT was destroyed that system obviously can’t keep the town afloat. It likely sunk and capsized, leaving behind this:

As we all should know by now during the fight with Xehanort in 3, Scala was revealed to have this structure underneath it, the ruins of Daybreak Town. More specifically the prominent shot of the clock tower.

The only other place we've ever seen this with is RG after it was reduced to little more than a twisted castle and called Hollow Bastion, depicting a second, darker crystalline-like structure hanging upside down underneath the main one:

With the war shattering the world into many smaller ones, everything being ripped apart and becoming separated from each other, naturally all the surrounding land that once connected them to Scala has vanished. Nothing is left except a world of seemingly endless ocean and sky. This is where Ephemer comes in after surviving the destruction of both DTs.

Clearly there’s no other options for materials left. The wreckage was used to build on top of the ruined world alongside whatever limited resources were present. The artificial islands are designed with the new environment in mind, much smaller in scale compared to DT, spaced out to allow a wind powered structure instead of a machinery based on, and cables / gondolas for easy travel at minimal cost between islands.

One of these islands is likely what becomes Villain’s Vale in KH2.

It’s unknown what the Vale exactly used to be. All we see now is a skeleton of what once was, little more than a husk. But the placement of it and it’s environment is telling.

The distance from the Vale to RG is roughly the length of distance from the main Scala island in 3 to the other unoccupied ones. See the change especially with water in between Scala and RG ? If you look back to the section of Hollow Bastion in Exhibit B ( Rising Falls ), you’ll notice the water actually rising out of a huge crack in the earth into the resevoir surrounding the castle. By KH2 all the surrounding water has been entirely dried up, leaving just this area, the sea bed, left behind.

At some point Scala was destroyed.

It no longer seems to be around in present day KH. It doesn’t feel like another war happened since Xehanort probably would've mentioned something like that since he was around before it was wiped off the map. I’m left to think Darkness got it for a second time. DT and RG got obliterated through darkness so I think the same very well happened again. It could give some reasoning to Eraqus' extreme aversion to the darkness. Of course all this would also mean then that the same world was destroyed at least three times. We’ll have to see when more of Dark Road comes out.

After the destruction, perhaps many of the survivors left, migrating and going on to cultivate worlds like Twilight Town and the Land of Departure, places that carry a few passing resemblances to Scala, but the residents who stayed rebuilt like Ephemer once did for DT, salvaging what remained of Scala and converting it into RG. Thanks to the islands being too badly damaged beyond feasible repair, there were only enough resources to pool together and recreate a singular island. The discarded islands formed the new surrounding land mass, with the exception of places like Villain’s Vale.

During this time, Keyblades and their wielders have all but been phased out. Too much knowledge has been lost, most of it now regarded as myths, legends, stories to be told. Keyblade wielders do endure though, in the Land of Departure, with Yen Sid, maybe more. This could be when we start seeing FF characters pop up and live in RG, the world now mostly free of the Keyblade.

Note, if RG was rebuilt on the main island of what used to be DT, then it would be obvious that this machine in RG / Hollow Bastion and the one in KHUX are the exact same device. Ephemer could’ve rebuilt this for whatever reason during the creation of Scala, and from there we encounter it again in KH1 at the World Terminus after using RG / Hollow Bastion’s terminal to access this laboratory. We know Xehanort ends up using it as part of his plan to toss Kairi  ( after kidnapping and experimenting on her )  into the void of space until she reaches Destiny Islands. This would’ve been right around if not during the destruction of RG.

From there, it’s history. Darkness starts destroying countless worlds. RG residents are scattered across the worlds or take refuge in Traverse Town, some forming a resistance. Sora, Riku, and Kairi go on their journey. The resistance reforms into the Restoration Committee post KH1 and RG is eventually restored for the most part by the events of Remind.

So with all this in mind, if they are all the same world ravaged over and over by darkness, this means Xehanort  ( not as terranort )  and Kairi both lived in this world. It would make sense why Kairi and Xehanort both recite the ‘ one sky, one destiny ’ phrase. It's a remnant from living in Scala / RG passed down over time ( a common phrase like ‘ may your heart be your guiding key ‘ maybe, it could have been attributed to the endless sky they found themselves under ) and could explain why Kairi can have this apparent association with Scala now due to Remind.

Adding in the player choosing to live as a new heart and becoming Xehanort, also could explain why Terranort ended up in RG of all places after he lost his memory in BBS, because it was really the place that used to be Scala / DT.

So here’s the rough timeline of events as it stands.

Era 1:  DT -> destroyed by darkness, restored by Ephemer -> Scala Era 2:  Scala -> destroyed ( by darkness? ), restored by someone -> RG Era 3:  RG -> destroyed by darkness ( Xehanort ), salvaged -> Hollow Bastion -> restored back into RG by Restoration Committee / inhabitants

I’d keep going, going into how Traverse Town could be an offshoot of Scala / RG created as a safe haven for it’s residents after the world was consumed by darkness again, but I think that’s another post for another time and I’ve already spent this long already on this one. Thank you for reading all of this if you made it this far !

#✰.` meta.┊behind the curtain ◟reveal the inner workings. #( man #i'm done #consider this me clocking in my writing quota for the day )

[allcleartreeservice]

A Future With No Trees

The world is not just home to us humans but for many other living beings. From animals that roam the skies, walk the earth and swim the depths of the ocean to plants both big and small, we all coexist in this planet that we call home. Many of these living beings have even been living on earth far longer than mankind. However, it is us who managed to cause so much damage and destruction to the planet while everybody else suffers.

Oceans are becoming more acidic and ice caps are melting causing the sea level to rise. Island nations like the Maldives are at risk of disappearing off the face of the earth. Forests and other natural ecosystems are converted into agricultural, manufacturing, commercial and residential lands as we continue to improve the quality of our lives at the expense of others. If you look outside most modern cities, it is filled with one skyscraper to another with barely a few random trees on the outskirts. Not even stumps can survive!

If we continue this lifestyle, will there be no more trees left for us in the future? Trees are cut to make paper-based products and wood needed for construction and furniture making. Illegal logging has mainly been the cause why forests are receding at a faster rate than new trees are growing if there is any at all.

When the Europeans first came to North America, forests were so dense and continuous that a squirrel could have travelled from the Atlantic coast to the Mississippi without ever touching the ground, some historians say. Since then, agriculture, logging, urban development and other human activities have thinned or wiped out these once-lush forests.

Scientists have long tried to estimate the extent of deforestation inNorth America and beyond. One of the most common ways of doing so is by simply measuring the total amount of forest cover lost. But not all deforestation created is equal, said Giorgios Mountrakis, an associate professor at the State University of New York College of Environmental Science and Forestry, USA.

In a paper published in PLoS One in February, Giorgios and Sheng Yang, a graduate student, tried slicing deforestation in a different way. Using satellite maps, they calculated the average distance to the nearest forest from any point in the continentalUnited States in 1992 versus 2001. Between these years, they found, distance to the nearest forest increased by one-third of a mile.

(Via: http://www.deccanherald.com/content/604482/how-far-next-forest-way.html)

The natural landscape has changed drastically over the years. A big part of the forest and natural habitats of wild animals and numerous plant species are now home to humans. And the trend continues as the population continues to explode and capitalists need to double their efforts to meet human needs. However, we are also seeing first-hand the dangers of deforestation as natural calamities strike us with more vengeance.

There’s no doubt America is a large consumer of animal products. But how much animal products do Americans actually consume? As reported by National Public Radio, in 2007 the average American consumed 270 pounds of meat. That same year the Environmental Protection Agency reported that agriculture in theUnited States alone contributed to 18 percent of the nation’s pollution. Shocking? It gets worse. Agriculture is a wasteful method to produce food and is detrimental to the environment. The amount of energy it takes to support agriculture versus the effects on the environment are outstanding. Following a vegan lifestyle can promote a sustainable environment. Veganism is a lifestyle in which a person doesn’t eat or use animal products. This means not eating beef, dairy, eggs, fish, chicken or using animal products with authentic leather or animal fur. Following a vegan lifestyle can lead to minimizing harmful agricultural practices. Resources that are already limited are consumed at aggregate amounts when it comes to the cultivation and slaughtering of animals. To produce just one pound of beef it takes 6.7 pounds of grains and feed, 52.8 gallons of drinking water, 74.5 square feet of land for grazing and a massive 1,036 BTUs for feed production and transport. BTU’s are a unit of measurement, British thermal unit, that measures the amount of energy used to raise the temperature of one pound of water.

(Via: http://www.sonomastatestar.com/opinion/2017/4/23/why-veganism-can-help-save-the-environmentwhy-veganism-can-help-save-the-environment)

The solution to most human dilemmas is to support a sustainable environment. Without us knowing, the little things that we do have bigger consequences and it can likely result to our own undoing. What will happen to us if we run out of trees in the future? Where will we go if our planet is no longer livable? We may ignore answering these questions for now but they are just lurking there and often felt in the face of a disaster.

Our planet is dying. It has been said over and over again. Loggers cut down trees but only a few plant new trees in its wake. The country will even have a more difficult time addressing important environmental issues as the Trump administration imposes further budget cuts including funding for the US Environmental Protection Agency. Any environmental progress the nation has achieved over the last few decades will likely go down the drain without the necessary support and funding coming from the government.

So, instead of cutting down that tree that you feel is not working out for your home’s landscape, visit this link: http://www.allcleartree.com/trimming to learn more about trimming or even hire the services of trained professionals, so no more tree will fall down because of negligent human activities.

The article A Future With No Trees was first published to http://www.allcleartree.com/

from http://www.allcleartree.com/trimming/future-no-trees