#considering real jellyfish do not have bones

[emry-stars-art]

I’d just like to say, I love that you make jelly Neil have it/its pronouns, even if it’s just because it doesn’t really know what gender is. I myself would love to use it/its as an agender person. but people around me definitely wouldn't understand or just wouldn’t because it’s dehumanizing in their eyes, so having a character I love use those pronouns and people respecting it is really nice for me to see. Thank you so much for doing that, you make me happy every time I see a jelly Neil drawing from you!

🥹 this makes me v happy to hear ahh I get a surge of love for anyone that's replied to it/its→it/he jellyNeil with anything along these lines. Excited to post more mers very soon hehe

#jellyneil knows what it wants and it is flexible ✨ #probably in. many ways #considering real jellyfish do not have bones #Neil has what. cartilage skeleton?? #definitely a scare sometime about Neil getting stuck in one of its sleeping dens #like that space is TOO small to fit the whole jelly’s body #but Neil wakes up and just. shimmies and pops right out #rested and blissfully unaware of the panic he just caused lmao #jellyfish bones are a source of constant curiosity and also ‘dear god what is wrong with you’ for Aaron #probably 😂 #anyway #not art sorry guys #asks #mer au

[evilminji]

I Ponder The Humble Blob Ghost!

You think they are what happens when you ALMOST but not quite A Ghost(tm)? Like, you have the ectoplasm and the will to continue... but you didn't really have A Thing in life? No Final Crystalizing Thought that brings focus? Just "ow! Ah! I'm scared. Don't wanna die!" And theeeeen.... *poof!*

Why am I Orb? Am squish? No bones.

Like? Remove any one piece of the Critical Formula and you get Blob instead of Ghost? Different KINDS, mind you, but blobs none the less.

Like Skulker! Not enough Ectoplasm. Ended up Blob. He CLEARLY had the Will, the Obsession, the gory end and unfinished business... buuuut? No green goo to power the creation of a full body. He clearly knows what he's supposed to LOOK like? But it's not something FIXABLE? Even with his now unlimited access to Ectoplasm.

Like in utero damage that permanently stunted his growth. HE is fine. All his facilities are on-line and checking in as they should, for the level of sentience expected of a ghost of his people. He just... smol. Same strength, intelligence, and power as he would have always HAD...

He just got handed a really, REALLY crap "customize your eternal meatsuit" option screen. Like for real guys. Basicly NO options. His salt is eternal and entirely justified. He could have had his tattoos. He paid a LOT of credits for those! Sat for DAYS! Had to track down this One(1) artist on this SHITTY little trading hub, that BARELY QUALIFIED as one, to sit in on uncomfortable overturned crate... IN A GAS MASK because the AIR SUPPORT KEPT KICKING IT... for hoooours!

It was a WORK OF ART. You would have CRIED.

This is BULLSHIT.

But wait, I hear you say, staring at the Blob ghost chewing on a lamp post. The one that has wii music playing behind the eyes. No thoughts, head jello, one might say. What about THEM?

Good point! Remember that formula?

LOT of Ecto! But THAT... might be either an animal or a fungus. We'd have to check. ANYTHING can and DOES die. If it's alive? It can die and potentially leave a ghost. But! Consider the noble Ghost Rabbit! *holds up squirming rabbit that is ABSOLUTELY trying to both bite me and kick me in the face* A noble and friendly creature!

THIS is what happens when an animal: has sufficient Ectoplasm at the death site, a reason to continue living (fairly common. It's usually their offspring, escape, the instinctual drive to survive itself or other understandable base drives. Like love, loyalty, or hunger.), and that all important High Emotions End.

Miss any of these? You get Blobbertson over there! He's clearly a hungry boy! But! Not very DRIVEN is he? Just floating along, chewing on whatever seems interesting, looking for a snack. He's food motivated. But not MOTIVATED motivated.

Blobbertson over there? A peaceful death. Too much Ectoplasm too leave, too food motivated in life NOT to carry over, but? No DRIVE. To DEFINE and DEMAND the Ectoplasm in his little body become sharp and active. No highly emotional state to stir it into action.

Is Blobbertson INCAPABLE of higher emotions? No. He is every bit as capable as the Ghost Rabbit that has savaged my hands and escaped while you were reading. It was, in fact, NOT as friendly as originally assumed. I may be bleeding. Unimportant. Blobbertson is PERFECTLY capable of getting attached. Being trained.

Whatever level of intelligence Blobbertson had in life, still remains. And WITH that? Comes the ability to improve and grow in death! IF (and this is the big one) he ever finds MOTIVATION to do so.

Because you see, Blobbertson is quite happy. No thoughts, brain jello. Drifting along in a happy green ocean like a jellyfish. Only concerned about his next snack. It's comforting. His food obsession filled, his tiny motivation barely enough to move him place to place.

He would GLADLY sit in one place and eat for the rest of eternity. Head blissfully silent.

And that's OKAY! It truly, honestly, is. Not everyone has to be conquers and kings, crafters and cosmonauts. Sometimes you just want to spend the rest of time playing in the sand. Resting on a sunshine-y hill. Not EVERY soul is a loud one.

This is the INFINITE Realms.

And there are places like Amity Park out there. THICK as cold honey with Ectoplasm in the air, gently infusing all the life that grows there with greater and greater chance of Ghost-hood. Even the peaceful blinking awake after that final rest to look down and... little nubby green paws.

Congratulations on becoming a Blob, grandma! Yes, I imagine you ARE furious it is inordinately difficult to knit like this. No, I don't think complaining to the king will help, MeMa.

That said? I can not tell you if Blob Ghost all belong to the same Family or the same Order, but they are NOT the same species! The WAY in which you fuck up that ever vital Fomula results in WILDLY different Blobs! Was it an animal? A sentient species? A sentient PLANET? A complexe interlocking colony of fungi? What was the EXACT Ectoplasm concentration at the death site? Was that the historical levels or the At Death levels? Was the individual under sedation?

Yes! All of this IS in fact, VERY relevant!

And you think it ends THERE? HA! The SKIES are FILLED with Fighty Mother Fuckers! Ghosts LOVE to fight! It's built into their social dynamics and hierarchy! Good ol brawls to get the Ecto pumping!

......Local Blob Farmer would like to take this moment to say "GET OF HIS GHOST PEONIES, YOU HEATHENS."

No they would NOT like to join your 24/7 thunder dome in the sky, THANKS! Martha here is trying to compose some Atlantian Shell Poetry. Blobby Jr of Blobbington and Blobbington Incorporated is TRYING to study! You've DESTROYED THE COMMUNAL ZEN GARDEN!!

Get! GET!!! *swings broom*

And THEN you look not even a mile east? And it's the floating island of Blobs. They LIKE that rock. It's just an ever shifting, accidentally rolling off the edge, falling slightly, making an offended squeek, and floating back to the top of the pile to repeate the process, MOOSH of thousands of blobs. No one's certain if they used to be seals or some sort of cat.

Apparently THAT island is Warm(tm).

So there they sit. Making contented noises, chirping and shoving for the best spots. They never leave. You can literally just... float up and sit on them. It's amazing. You gotta be careful not to get buried, but it's So Soft and bouncy? And they are ALL making that soft happy Blob vibrate noise. It's like a giant, island sized, warm and almost fuzzy but not, water bed that massages you.

Just DON'T start anything there! Holy SHIT are they territorial. You Will Die. They SWARM.

And THATS not even getting into the Blobs that are? Literally brainless. Some people eat those. Which? I guess? They ARE basicly Ectoplasm jello. But SOME of them are NOT? Like... it's a debate. Hot button issue, ya know?

Some fungus turns into Ecto Jello with negative IQ and delicious insides. Is this food? But OTHER fungus was SENTIENT in life and become a whole RANGE of Fungus ghosts, from Blob right on up to complexe dryad like ghosts! Clearly NOT food unless you are a MONSTER. But THEY argue the FIRST group are ALSO not food?

Plant Ghosts have strong opinions and are willing to Gruesome Violence about it.

Which brings us back to the Humble Blob Ghost! Check before you pet! That might be grandma! Or planning to eat your hand! Just as Mammal tells you little to nothing about what animal you are looking at, so too does Blob and Ghost! Stay safe out there! And if anyone sees a glowing green rabbit? I want my blood back! That's supposed to be in MY body! Rude!

This has been, the daily ghost!

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc #danny phantom #blob ghosts #blob lore #i like to PONDER the lore #get my grabby little racoon hands on the set dressings #gib me your SECRETS #gib to the racoon #minji's writing

[llamagoddessofficial]

I have a few things to ask of the Siren AU

Can Skull produce ink or is he like any other deep sea octopus?

Octupi can change color, so can Skull only change his tentacles or can his bones also change?

If Error was a siren, what do you think he would be?

How ironic is it that real octopi aren’t social 😂

Has Blue ever eaten a sea turtle?

Are the sirens aware of the other sirens in the same vicinity?

Are there sea turtle sirens?

1. No ink for Skull. Mostly because he's an apex predator, so he has no need for it, but also because he lives and hunts at the bottom of the ocean- there's not really much point in ink when your world is almost entirely dark anyway. 2. His bones can also change colour! But his bones can't glow. His tentacles can change colour/glow, and the joints between the bones can glow, but the bones themselves don't emit light. 3. I haven't thought about it all that much, but I like the idea of him being a strange amalgamation of sea creatures, a tail of this and a fin of that, considering his corrupted nature. I also like the idea of his strings being jellyfish tentacles. 4. Some are! Some octopus make friends with other fish, share dens, etc. Squid also like travelling in groups. In the end, though, Skull only cares about Mc. 5. Probably. He's fucked up like that 6. At the zoo? Yes. Sans and Red are very aware of each other, the staff often have the other's scent clinging to them. Sans and Red know Skull exists but they don't know who/what he is. Skull doesn't really care, he just wants to be fed and see his wife. 7. Absolutely.

#llamagines #zoo siren au #siren sanses #skull glows a lot when hes in heat #that fact. may or may not be relevant to tili plot...... #hehehe

[lollytea]

Given that Hunter was introduced to anime in the Human Realm (canon), what do you think some of his favourites would be? Any he wouldn't like as much?

Astro Boy

Voltron Defender of the Universe (the 80s one. He eats it up. Its his cocomelon)

Mobile Suit Gundam Wing

Gus also enjoys Sci-fi type stuff so this is what they watch together <333

Sailor Moon/Cardcaptor Sakura/Whatever other cute wholesome power of friendship magical girl animes that you can think of. I just believe he loves Magical Girls. That is a headcanon that is attached to my brain like a leech.

Pokemon. He loves cute little creechurs, they're silly and they remind him of palismen <33

I imagine that he really enjoys sports anime. Especially the ones with intense homoerotic friendships. He loves Haikyu and Free, god bless. If you dare to open your mouth during Yuri on Ice, he will kill you.

As a guy who is a bit awkward, passionate about his interests, a little bit on the gnc side, and into making clothes, I think he'd like Princess Jellyfish.

I think when it comes to anime he WOULDN'T like, I think maybe....slice of life shojo high school stuff. Ones that are deeply rooted in experiences that Hunter cannot connect to. Not that he hates that stuff. He just struggles to relate. Also, as introspective, sensitive and emotionally mature as I imagine Hunter to be, I also think that his attention span cannot be held by a show that focuses on feelings/romance alone. Bro is like "I want SPACESHIPS!! I want SPORT!!! I want POKEMON!!!" There's gotta be some exciting angle to keep him entertained.

Something I'm a little unsure of is what Hunter's relationship is with gore/horror/edgy type stuff. Because we know he was a fan of Ruler's Reach, which was written by an edgelord 8 year old and was packed with gratuitous violence. Considering he was not only a teenage boy (who tend to gravitate towards depictions violence because of societal influence) but a child soldier who was unnervingly desensitized to brutality, it does make a lot of sense. Ruler's Reach also seemed to be something of a masculine power fantasy written by one boy who felt small and powerless in his own life, which connected with a boy who felt similarly. King wanted to be feared, Hunter wanted to be respected.

However, this was during the time that Hunter was trapped in a very bleak situation, one that he didn't even fully understand was bleak. And he coped by hyperfixating on a book that normalized the cruelty.

But what I wonder is, would he still feel the same way about that book now, after everything? He's been woken up to how horrific his life was until this point. He's aware of the atrocities and he's deeply uncomfortable with all of it. Things are drastically different now. Hunter is drastically different.

Personally, I think Ruler's Reach was something that comforted him when he needed it. But as he changes as a person, its just not his taste anymore.

Hunter can certainly stomach gore and violence. He's seen more disturbing sights than anything an anime can show him. But I don't think he actively seeks it out. I imagine that he prefers stuff that's lighthearted. Not that he doesn't enjoy tension/excitement/high stakes. Just not the kind of stuff that will make him extremely upset.

Like Fullmetal Alchemist for example. Absolutely amazing anime, but not something Hunter would enjoy sitting through. It's good to have fiction that makes you feel something deep in your core, the way FMA does to people. But Hunter has experienced enough real life trauma and existential horror for a lifetime. He's felt enough!!! He doesn't need to see that weird fucking dog!!!!! Leave him alone!!!!!

So ya in summary, I think he likes fun, semi-lighthearted stuff. But he doesn't really wanna watch anything that's gonna make him sit in the shower for over an hour and rethink everything. He is already mentally exhausted. He once learned made of a dead guy's bones, that's enough for him.

#i know we were just meant to talk about anime #lots of thoughts here on WHY hunter likes rulers reach #i just have a lot of them

[sol-consort]

I always wonder while playing ME. Do Hanar hug you with two tentacles or all tentacles like some facehugger

I've put too much time into researching this and this is what I found so far.

Firstly, I assumed that mass effect wouldn't have addressed the hanar hugging habits at all so I straight up jumped to their real life counterpart, the jellyfish.

And let me tell you how surprised I was to find that no one has raised the question of "can you hug a jellyfish?"

Like we have had heated discussions about how a horse would wear pants, are you telling me that the 21st century humans never imagined hugging the one immortal animal without a brain or bones? Shame on all of us.

But, however, I was delighted to find that people did in fact raise the question of "can you kiss a jellyfish?"

And you can! You might die but I say the price is worth it.

Jellyfish don't seem that friendly to humans either so I question the hanar willingness to hug us.

After finding out that the first page results of two different search engines were completely off topic, I went to the other source of information where people were chronically online enough to ask these questions seriously, tiktok.

I did end up with fruitful results. I found this video and this other one of jellyfish kinda of hugging each other underwater? And as you can see they do use all of their tentacles. I also found a bunch of cute other videos about jellyfish and got distracted for an hour, 10/10 experience.

Now the scales were leaning in the favour of hanar using all of their tentacles to hug you. Finding the barrel jellyfish to be the closest to hanar, here is an image with a human for scale to how the hug might be.

But that raised the question of whether they would fall or float? Which lead to the need to figure out how they even moved because their tentacles looked too fragile to act as legs.

I knew tiktok was too unreliable and search engines too professional so I migrated to the one place where source material is treated like a holy grail, reddit.

Scouring the deserted mass effect subreddit while half lucid on pain killers, I did find some information on how the hanar conducted their day to day surface odyssies.

Based on this one hanar "blasto" from the citidal dlc, hanar do in fact walk on their tentacles as legs. But it's less of walking and more of scuttering around like a tiny crab in a tiny shell. The wiki adds more explanation, they use a mass field effect on their tentacles to carry them since they are in fact fragile and unable to lift up their big bodies.

After reading the wiki that I realised I should've gone to from the start, I found out the hanar have a skull, which means they have a brain to protect inside the said skull. So they are in fact not as squishy as earth jellyfish :(

Then I finished the wiki and still found no information on their hugging habit. At which point I was close to giving up.

Going back to reddit since I had nothing else to do, I suddenly found an oasis amidst the dry desert of hanar informations.

This picture of a hanar hugging an asari! From the "Mass Effect: Blasto: Eternity is Forever"

I was flabbergasted! The exact thing I was looking for, just straight up offered to me on a silver platter! The fates smiled my way.

So the definitive answer is that they seem to hug you with 4 of their 6 tentacles, leaving the remaining 2 in the far back to carry their weight and balance on.

There is however an argument I found that mentiond how blasto is actually considered a bad representation of hanar in the mass effect universe. Blasto seems to deliberately exaggerate and preform un-hanar like behaviour to appeal to the bipedal viewers. One example is carrying guns that hanars are know to be unable to actually effectively use for the lack of fingers.

Which raises doubts about the authenticity of the Blasto hug. Is it how hanar really hug or is this one attempting to appeal to the human-like viewers? Do hanars hug with all of their tentacles underwater and only do a 4 tentacle hug on dry lands? Can you kiss a hanar? Where can I get a copy of that asari hanar tentacle porn game?

I'm afraid to admit that I know that I know nothing.

Here is another cute video of jellyfish.

#☆Hanar #mass effect #hanar

[ofblitzd]

┊┊cerberus corp has been watching AIYANA MORENO.  some of the public has dubbed them BLITZ because of LIGHTNING MANIPULATION gifted by FIRE CAUSED BY LIGHTNING STRIKE. having been an extra ordinary since 2017, they’re doing a good job at hiding OUTBURSTS CAUSED BY STRONG EMOTIONS & SCORCHING THEMSELVES. when they aren’t working their day job as a BARTENDER, they are fond of WORKING ON VINTAGE CARS and are never seen without A BRACELET MADE BY HER SISTER. at first glance they seem CHARISMATIC & TENACIOUS, though their close friends know them to also be RUTHLESS & VENGEFUL.  they consider themself a VILLAIN. ┊┊ baz. she/her. 30. cst. n/a.

TW : fire, death.

001.  GENERAL

name : aiyana sekai moreno. nicknames : blitz, yana, na. age : thirty. date of birth : october 30th, 1993. zodiac : scorpio sun, taurus moon, capricorn rising. place of birth : new york city, new york. current residence : brooklyn, in a one bedroom, studio apartment above the bar she bartends at.  gender : demi woman. pronouns : she/they.  sexuality : pansexual.  occupation : bartender.  faceclaim : khadijha red thunder height : 5’9”.  tattoos : lightning strike down their left side, her sister’s initials under her left collar bone, a patchwork sleeve from her right shoulder to wrist consisting of at least 20 random tattoos, spiderwebs on the backs of their knees, a snake wrapped around a dagger along her spine, a medusa on their left calf and jellyfish on the right, their tentacles wrapping around to her shin.  piercings : triple pierced lobes and double helix on her right ear, triple pierced lobes, double helix, and tragus on her left. septum, and left nostril.  distinguishing features : freckles covering most of their face, burns along their left thigh and hip from their nde, and a three inch scar on their right calf, just above their ankle from a childhood bike accident.  positive traits : charismatic, tenacious, loyal, hard working.  negative traits : ruthless, vengeful, sarcastic, reticent.  labels / tropes : tall, hot, ruthless villain with fabulous hair!? idk tbd on a real answer lol.  likes : snakes/reptiles, weight lifting, obscene amounts of vaping, vodka sodas, thunderstorms, loud music, collecting sharp objects (mostly pocket knives, but she does own throwing stars, too), double dutch, a lacy bodysuit, jasmine tea.  dislikes : emotions, acrylic nails (they always end up melting off when she calls the lightning), tiny yappy dogs, sherpa jackets (the texture gives her the ick), peas, coffee (especially the sugary kind).  fears : suffocating, trusting the wrong people. again.  hobbies : knife throwing, mixology, working on her charger, lifting, thinking of fun new ways to ruin the men and women who disappoint them, window shopping.  habits : twirling pens, straws, and coins (whatever she can get her hands on tbh) along her fingers, cracking her joints (hands, elbows, neck), sucking their teeth when they’re annoyed. 

002.  EXTRA ORDINARY

NDE

aiyana grew up on the streets of brooklyn with their sister - enola - seeing more than two young girls ever should have bore witness to. yet, they survived. hell, they thrived. the two had grown into competent, independent women that took a relatively shitty childhood circumstances and turned their lives into something to be insanely proud of.  the tiny, fixer upper they’d bought had only been theirs for six months when the storm rolled in. it was the height of summer and dry lightning split the sky, threatening to unleash a torrent of rain. aiyana wished it would have. a crack of lightning struck their home, setting it ablaze as if it were mere kindling. it took seconds for the sisters to become trapped and smoke to fill the tiny space, smothering them.  yana was ready to all but drag their baby sister out of the house when a piece of the roof caved in, landing on aiyana’s left leg. she was trapped. more debris continued to fall, further trapping aiyana and enola. all yana could think of was staying alive long enough to get. her sister. out. she couldn’t die under this stupid fucking house. she wouldn’t. not if it meant losing the one thing that held her together in the moments that yana felt like she was being ripped apart at the seams.  the sirens had just come within earshot when aiyana finally managed to shove the fiery debris off of her leg. painstakingly slowly, yana crawled her way to enola, but it was too late. she would later find out that the smoke inhalation had been the thing to kill their sister. fucking smoke. still, even if the rational part of her brain knew enola was gone, yana wasn’t letting go. she could still save her somehow and refused to die until she did.  yana lost consciousness before the firefighters were able to pull them and enola from the rubble and, while her sister was pronounced dead on scene, aiyana was loaded into the back of an ambulance and rushed to the nearest hospital.  days later, yana came to - groggy and confused. as the events from days prior slowly came back to her, an unfamiliar heat coursed through her limbs and energy crackled at her fingertips. panic and pure energy swirled in the pit of her stomach, forming a tight ball of anxiety until a nurse finally broke the news that enola never even made it to the er. a wail ripped through aiyana’s already shredded throat as a crack of lightning split the otherwise clear sky just outside her window. the very lightning that shattered aiyana’s whole world, gave them the power to shatter everyone else’s. and shatter them, she would.

POWER

aiyana’s abilities are limited to charged particles in the earth’s upper atmosphere. she cannot manipulate electric appliances or draw from electric currents used to power them. will she summon lightning to make them explode for dramatic effect? absolutely. every single time. she’s extra af and wildly unapologetic about it. but! it’s easiest when they’re outside to call the lightning. depending on the building, and what was used to build it, can make it more difficult to do so. yana’s abilities may also be amplified by large quantities of conductor in her near vicinity, but it has to be a significant amount. a lake, river, mass amounts of high conductive metals - they’ll all get the job done. the same goes for grounding materials like rubber or plastic - in large amounts, they may stifle her abilities.  her abilities also require a significant amount of control - both physical and emotional. the use of their powers quickly drain aiyana, causing massive fatigue and, oddly enough, dehydration. that’s the main reason they started hitting the gym as hard as she does. it took practically no time after her powers manifested to figure out she wasn’t physically up to par with their newfound abilities.  flashes of strong emotion of any kind can cause aiyana to lose control of her lightning, both putting others and herself in danger. they’ve always been good at schooling their emotions, but the loss of her sister took a little of that control with her. aiyana has had to shut off any empathy that may have remained in the years since her nde in order to keep those more pesky emotions at bay. emotions too strong can cause aiyana to draw too much power and burn out.  it took yana a solid year before they had any real control over the lightning. their grief was still too raw and she’d yet to figure out how to fit it in the tiny little box in the back of her mind. once they figured out how to compartmentalize her emotions and stow them away, aiyana was off to the races. in the past six years, yana has - for the most part - mastered their abilities. 

VULNERABILITIES & DRAWBACKS

use of her powers, especially when yana uses significant amounts or for longer periods of time, causes static electricity. she’ll accidentally shock people for days afterwards. it’s easily one of their least favorite side effects of being an eo. there’s also the exhaustion and dehydration, though they’ve come to combat those fairly easily in the years since their nde.  occasionally, when an unexpected emotion hits - which is rare these days - and she’s holding any sort of device that requires electricity, she’ll short circuit it. yana has burnt out a few too many iphone components for her liking, if we’re being honest.  over the years, aiyana has come to feel at home with the slight hum that her powers bring. being cut off from the lightning now would almost feel like cutting off a limb. any sort of eos power with the ability to smother or overload them with electricity would be detrimental and, though she’s loath to admit it, terrifying.

CODENAME

aiyana hates the whole codename thing. theirs was bestowed upon them by some geeky superhero blogger that decided she needed some whack moniker as well. she prefers to go by her given name, but has accepted that there’s less than nothing they can do about the codename. though, get her in the right mood and she may give ya a little zap. 

003.  EXTRA

honestly…if you made it through all that mess, bless you. 

stats. pinterest. wc.

there will be a full wanted connections page, but until i get my shit together and get that finished, have some more mess. 

fellow baddies! give me a gang of just…the best of the worst. let them be hot! do crime! wreck all the havoc humanly possible. i really just want shenanigans, tbh.

uhhhhh someone to remind yana she is human? and has emotions? and they’re not the worst thing to have? they’ll hate it and i’m really living for it. can be platonic or romantic or somewhere in between. i’m truly not picky. just make them feel the things, pls. i beg.

i also beg for found family type ish. aiyana is v much on her own and she’ll never admit it but she capital h Hates it. it would have been a JourneyTM to get to the familial point, but she needs it. their love language is bullying, though, so uuuuhhh sorry?

hook. ups. yana is so insanely sex positive and they are not shy about it. 

perhaps an ex? long term relationships haven’t been yana’s jam in years, but it’s possible she has at least one. mayhaps two?

literally anything. throw it at me. i'll eat it up.

#cc.intro #cc.task #so this is way too long and i'm so sorry #there are no typos if you see one .....lies

[whatudottu]

Me thinking about electrical compression and aliens again has led me to think about another repeat biology subject of the amperi, and how I can explain wire travel in a (still fictional) logical way- find out next now how that turns out!

You know, after I have posted multiple other stuff between this being completed and this actually being posted-

One thing that I tend to do when considering amperi biology is that they need to be a little moist (apologies for the word) in order to breathe, but to take more inspiration from jellyfish - surprisingly the actual inspiration for amperi (probably because you couldn’t exactly design constantly transparent characters in animated tv) - and say that physically a lot of their main body is made from this moisture. Unlike jellyfish it’s not quite water, rather it’s a conductive fluid that actually contains a lot of electrochemical signals akin to a nervous system. This in particular is a biological reason why emotion reading is part of amperi languages - communication is done through the excretion and dispersal of this nervous system in water - and why the now ‘surrounded by emotion chemicals’ Ra’ad due to his undiscovered psychometry mutation was constantly overwhelmed, overstimulated, and overcome with anxiety.

And it’s this excretion that actually plays a language role too, essentially being practically REQUIRED in communication especially with how in water it spreads out. A reason why in the air amperi are a little damp is because excretion is a constant (but consistent) autonomic function, like conductive sweat that contains so many messages, though in surface environments it does make communication difficult. Partly the reason why Ra’ad finds himself preferring land, even if either way he’d still need to wear some damp robes when a dry season hits; it beats having to wear one everytime in the ocean with the cultural equivalent connotation of constantly wearing a balaclava though-

And all this ‘filled with goo’ stuff doesn’t mean that amperi have a true main body under their skin (that’s for @ohyeahben10 ‘s Ultimate Ampfibian) but it DOES mean that if an amperi were to perhaps compress themselves to a smaller ‘fit through the neck of a bottle’ size, they build up a charge and in fact begin to conduct electricity. It’s an adaptation for both offence and defence, either being used in constricting tentacles to electrocute prey and victims through excretion and consequent conduction of their electrochemical gel or - a way we will explore in depth next - electrifying predators and assailants using complete compression and slipping between teeth, gills, blowholes, and/or grasp, leaving a trail of ‘lightning’ in escape.

That’s right baby I’ve finally figured out how to logic my way around wire walking!

I’ve mentioned a few times that I think amperi have a bone in them, often referring to he more literal bone like structure in cuttlefish rather than the flexible structure inside of a squid called a gladius or pen, the squid of course being the basis of my ‘this exists in real biology’ inspiration. In fact, perhaps this gladius will serve to fit much better with the amperi, as it’s role in Earth squids is to serve as protection of visceral organs and an attachment for very important muscle groups; I say, grinning into the camera as if I were a villain thinking of something dastardly.

With this gladius, not only does it serve as a base for the important muscle groups of compression - a complicated dynamic of contracting muscles to reduce size and expanding pores to excrete the mucus they adapted for - but in amongst the visceral organs (from a list of few includes the very important heart) there is a very valued organ that in fact produces its conductive gel, sitting nice and comfortable against the brain where these electrochemical signals translate into commands ether somatic or autonomic. As the muscles contract using the gladius as it’s base it in fact squeezes the perfectly placed organ that disperses this electrochemical as if along a highly distributed nervous system and in fact carries with it charge, charge that conducts to whatever purpose the amperi compresses with.

It is that same conductivity that amperi naturally are that allows them wire and cable transportation, since it is a high energy mode of travel for a significantly reduced body size. In a great grand ocean of vast expanses it’s less effective than the semi-compression of weaponry and desperate compression of ‘please don’t eat me’, or the less desperate semi-compression of electric inking; too much energy for too little time, it’s like trying to sprint across the country.

But in areas with a denser population with specific infrastructure built as the amperi equivalent for public transportation or perhaps at a more basic level a bike lane, literal cable travel is developed around the idea of being high energy fast travelling short distance trips. In ocean cities or towns in close proximity to them, think like if internet cables along the ocean floor were filled with people going to work or school or just going out for lunch. On the land where a lot of the metalworking is literally landlocked to be in as dry of air as it can in order to smith, there are powerlines that provide local traffic for any surface towns or workplaces, but you also get a few more uh trespassers along the lines because a not insignificant number of people live on the surface as hermits away from the ocean and many lines are mainly for transit companies.

From personal experience of accidentally walking through my local transit worksite (fuck you google maps) finding that I’m on the wrong side of a tollgate, sometimes where you need or want to go, the fastest route just so happens to be through the company lines.

On Earth, because the only reason we have internet cables and powerlines is because we use them as - well - powerlines and internet cables, it’s not as if an amperi runaway who’s lost and afraid far from whatever he might’ve called familiar if not quite the home he wanted it to be has any real societal understanding that Earth is the American transportation system of Tesslos, Ra’ad just takes the lines and is internally horrified that they lead directly into houses on occasion.

And I think that’s it for wire walking lmao- this was meant to be posted after I rambles about petrosapien nervous systems but yeet yeet!

#amperi #ra’ad #technically only here to contrast and explain the mutants and magic complications of overstimulation #ben 10 #xenobiology #i mentioned ‘damp robes’ here- essentially they’re there to kinda soak up the excretion and use it as a coolant and moisturiser on land #surface workers have damp robe ppe and uniforms (depending on their jobs; smithies have to be VERY damp) #and surface hermits tend to wear or not wear robes depending on the weather #aggregor happened to snatch ra’ad in the middle of the wet season or in a marsh or something #either way- ra’ad got yanked away from damp weather and shunted in various dry environments #probably the only reason ra’ad didn’t shrivel was because he was so used to ‘not expressing’ #aka he has does his best to ‘recycle’ his own goo by just kinda *splat* patting himself down #it does mean he can travel along wires without needing to drag behind a wet blanket

[astaroth1357]

How the Brothers Would Try to Get the MC Back After a Breakup

I have a much longer one in the works, but dug this out of my old drafts and just had to polish it off real quick. Not sure why I never finished it. 🤷‍♀️

Lucifer

His first tactic is to try and make them try to get back with him.

That means he’s going to go out and slay it! He’s going to make sure he’s looking great and really making a point of just how much he can do and how capable he is in literally Every. Way. If they’re watching, he’s going to be amazing. Period.

Buuut he’ll be sure to treat them super coldly throughout... This isn’t him trying to nicely ask them to come back to him, oh no, this is just making a point about how much they threw away, stupid human...!

If this doesn’t send them crawling back then he’s really in a bad place… He really needs them to come back on their own because his pride won't let him…

If he ever has to ask, it will feel more like a business deal than a reconciliation but that means he’s desperate. Hear him out at least.

Mammon

He’s going to be an absolute nightmare...

I think we all know that Mammon would fall apart without MC and it really wouldn't be a graceful fall…

Man will go through all the stages of grief seemingly every hour, everywhere from "WELL I DON'T NEED YA ANYWAY!" to, "Baby I'll buy ya anything, please come back…!"

The worst of it comes out when he's drunk and it's also when his worst ideas sound fantastic!

Not above breaking into their room at night just to sing them a poorly-written, sappy love song.

Also not above begging his brothers, Simeon, and even Diavolo for ideas on how to win them back.

If he could put it on one of those airplane banners and fly it across the Devildom, he would. Please MC, he's trying here…

Leviathan

Pity. Pity. So much pity. He is not afraid to treat his own dignity like collateral damage if he has to.

In the weeks after the breakup, Levi would probably be best described as one of those gelatinous deep sea Blobfish thrown on dry land, just with 90% more sadness and wallowing.

Assuming he leaves his room at all, he'll look like complete trash who hasn’t slept in weeks. Just an ultra-depressed otaku covered in Dorito dust and self-pity…

Basically, everything about him is going to scream, "I'M MISERABLE WITHOUT YOU, PLEASE COME COMFORT ME!!!" and considering that may have initiated their relationship to start with, it's not a terrible tactic.

If turning into a pathetic beached jellyfish of despair doesn't work then he'll try begging too. Third brother or not, dignity was never a priority here. Just MC… Always MC.

Satan

Meet our resident drunk texter.

During the day, Satan is going to take more of a Lucifer route and just be as impressive as he possibly can. However, he doesn't quite have Lucifer's level of deep emotional repression through pure spite…

What that means is occasionally he's going to crack and it's rough.

Get a few drinks in him and Satan will just break into a sobbing mess… Any poor soul in the vicinity will have to listen to his incoherent babbling about how many dates he's had with MC, how much he loves them, and why he can't sleep without them anymore…

But the texts… Man, are they something…

Satan: MC yourr the sptinkles to my waffls

Satan: why did you leave me? 🥺

Satan: im in the bat, its really cold  here

Satan: pleaae come home 😭😭😭

Satan: I'd murder fr yo

Satan: i mean love you

Satan: come back please

Asmodeus

Jealousy. Pure, simple jealousy. You think he can’t have three other people on his arms by the end of the week? Don't you know what you’re missing??

If Mammon is going through grief stages, then Asmo is stuck on anger. To think that he, HE, would be broken up with!! The nerve!!!

He'll go out clubbing and fucking and make a big'ol deal out of it for at least a week, but if it doesn't really help his case then he's really screwed… (like, figuratively this time)

After his anger burns out there'll be A LOT of crying and Asmo will make it his mission to get together again!!

That could involve everything from long-winded apology speeches, to dragging Solomon into complicated "Let's date again!" schemes, to dangling himself in front of MC like a carrot on a stick to try and entice them back.

EVERYONE in the House is going to hear about it and it'll drive them all crazy, but hey, anything in the name of love, damnit!!

Beelzebub

Lots of gifts, mostly food.

You'd think he'd be leaving offerings to a pagan god with the amount of food he tries to give MC… The man could actually feed a village with those plates!

To be frank, Beel doesn’t even have to do all that much in the grand scheme of things. A sad Beel is like a sad puppy, it just tugs at the heartstrings by its pure existence!

It also helps that he'd be willing to just… talk about getting back together like emotionally mature adults (novel concept, I know)

If they talk it out and the MC still isn't interested then expect more food and more sad Beel... He'll pretty much be like a depressed Santa Claus with a bag of T-bone steaks.

Be careful how long you keep Beel sad for though, MC, because Belphie isn't afraid to murder you twice. He's keeping a knife in that pillow. Be warned.

Belphegor

He's too busy not caring to even try.

Seriously. He doesn't care. Really. Not at all. Not even a little. Were they even dating? He didn't notice!

In fact, he doesn't care so much that he's going to nap in all of their favorite places, rewatch all of their favorite movies, and listen to their favorite songs because he just doesn't give a shit.

He doesn't care so much that he'll totally still invite them out to festivals and theme parks because it doesn't matter and they can still have a lot of fun together anyway!

He doesn't care SO FREAKING MUCH that if they wanted to nap together again or even cuddle a bit it's totally fine because it doesn't mean anything and he's fine and they're fine and this is fine!! Everything is a'okay!!!

See? No complaints outta him. But if they wanted to get back together uh… that's fine too… please...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons

[uglyshirtsinc]

AIGHT HERE WE GO BUCKLE UP!! Endermen hybrids Illumina, Purpled, and Ranboo! With a sprinkle of Technodad and Sonboo, a drizzle of Little Brother Purpled and Big Brother Punz, with a side of Illumina and Fruit friendship! Less go! This was meant to be a ramble but literally ended up a fic outline?? Could even be read as a fic if you wanted??? What the hell 6 am me???

Endermen hyrbid are valuable because since they're half human instead of making enderpearls they make eyes of ender, and they respawn like humans do so they're used to farm ender eyes.

Ranboo meets Illumina and Purpled after being kidnapped and separated from his dad at the wee age of eleven meets sixteen year old Illumina and eleven year old Purpled.

He's tossed into a cell with the two of them, Illumina being there to calm the younger two down after being used for the farm. Whenever Illumina is brought back to the cell, he cares for the boys and dotes on them, acting much more worried and clingy that normal. They let him take care of them, knowing that keeping them safe calms him.

They talk about their lives before being taken, Illumina talks about the adventures he and his friend Fruit would go on. The dangerous things they did. He promises the boys to one day show them cool tricks, using the excuse of "the cell is too tiny and someone would get hurt" as to why he can't show them off there, not wanting to tell them the little portions of food he recieves (even less considering he gives most to the boys) has eaten away at his strength.

Purpled talks about his adoptive brother Punz who's just a bit older than Illumina, at age seventeen. How he was a cool mercenary hired to do "super secret" stuff and protect people. He tells them about his trident and tomahawk.

When Ranboo opened up, it gave Illumina his first real sense of hope he's had in a long time. Ran talks about his dad, emperor of the Antarctic Empire and faithful patron of the powerful Blood God. Illumina had heard of the Arctic Empire's hybrid son and after story after story began to believe that Ran really was the prince of the Empire. Ran's father obviously loved him, each story leaving him in tears of either longing or laughter. His father would be searching for them, and he would find them.

Weeks turned to months and nothing changed, until Ran was on the floor screaming in pain and Purpled was hiding in the corner wailing in fear. Illumina could hear cracking, popping, and spotted two hard lumps just next to Ranboo's shoulder blades and realized he wasn't just some Enderman hybrid, but rather a dragon hybrid. When the pain finally subsided and their captors returned to take the two young boys Illumina knew what he had to do.

He didn't know much of Gods and patrons, only what he read while searching the strongholds with Fruit after their latest adventure.

Patrons were messy, being worthy to have one and be a follower was even messier. But within that moment, he didn't care. Thousands of voices in his head was better than having to witness those monsters that held them captive force Ran to cough and gag and wheeze in attempt to get Dragons Breath from the boy. It was worth it to return Purpled to his brother, to see the boys eyes light up the same way they did when Ran said his dad would save them. And for just a moment, Illumina let himself be selfish. It was worth it to get to hold his best friend close, to be strong enough to scale buildings and run from golems they'd messed with. To see the sunrise over a snowy mountain, to show the world he was faster, stronger, and smarter than anyone imagined.

Cutting his hand on a jagged rock sticking from the walls that he had warned the boys about so often, be used his own blood to draw the symbol. When it glows and the world fades, stands before him a towering man with hair as white as snow, wearing the finest attire fit for a king, dressed in gold with everything he wore.

Wordlessly, a deal is made and as their hands shake Illumina is staring into dark, ruby red eyes sparkling with a beast like excitement. The Blood God speaks and tells him "They have been waiting." And Illumina knows what he means.

When the world returns, his ragged and dirty clothes are replaced by the ones he would wear before the monsters took him. A pouch of emeralds hangs from his belt and a familiar black mask covers his nose and mouth. His strength has returned, but at a cost he has yet to find out.

There's no whispers, no cries, no one yelling in his head. There's no insanity blocking his train of thought. No amnesia. He is Illumina.

He wraps himself with the one thin blanket they were allowed, curling up near the gate to keep himself and his clothes covered.

Purpled is first to return and Illumina places a figer over his lips, signaling Purpled to stay quiet. When Ran returns, it takes Illumina less than thirty seconds to have the monstrous man on the ground unconscious. Ran and Purpled watch in awe as he checks the horrid man for anything of value to them. A ring of keys, a pouch of coin, an iron sword, and a map are all Illumina deems worthy.

While his strength has returned, he's mindful of the boys and their weak bodies. He carries Purpled on his back, the violet eyed boy the smallest out of them all.

It takes hours to escape their prison mostly undetected. When they do, Illumina grabs the first horse he can find that's saddled up and tells the boys to hold on as he rides off.

The map was appreciated beyond comprehension. It doesn't take long to find a town and get the boys proper clothing that will survive the journey to the Arctic. Keeping them close and their heads down they get what they need tools wise and leave before the sun can even set.

It's hard, telling Purpled that he'll have to wait even longer to see his brother, but promises once they return Ranboo home that Punz can come there to take him home. If Illumina must admit, he chooses Technoblade first because once it hits the news of the princes return and Illumina's name is spread, he hopes Fruit will come and find him, even if they have to meet in the middle.

Throughout the terror and pain, they push through. From the nights they got separated, Purpled clinging to Ran and assuring the dragon hybrid Illumina will find them, fighting off zombies when Ran couldn't stand straight to hold a sword. The relief when Illumina scoops them both into his arms and holds then tighter than before.

With hunters hot on their tail they can't afford to stop and it takes four months itself to reach the borders between the Arctic Empire and whatever land they found themselves in.

Ran's wings have grown in, one a dark, scaley black with brilliant green in the folds between each bone. The other is a is white and reminds Illumina of a jellyfish, bits and tassles hanging from the wing giving it a much more fragile, paper thin appearance. Both are incredibly strong, despite their looks, and it's often the intimidation factor the two wings bring that gets them out of sticky situations.

A year has passed since they've been held in captivity, Illumina now seventeen and the boys twelve.

Illumina buys the cheapest tickets to the Empire, having to hold Ran's hand to keep him from teleporting ahead in excitement. He cries multiple times, the feeling of finally being free and so close to home hitting him like a truck. Illumina sees the excitement on Purpleds face, knowing after Ran he gets his family too.

They arrive on the island and immediately Ranboo is dragging them the way to the inner walls. Claiming to know his home like the back of his hand. Passing by a few guards, Purpled asks why they don't just tell the guards they have the prince.

"The guards were the whole reason Ranboo ended up where he was, plus they could try killing us immediately thinking we took Ran. I can't risk putting you two in any more danger." Is the reply he gets.

They teleport to the other side of the walls easily, walking to the other, and teleporting. This repeats for two days till they reach the inner most wall. Techno stands on a platform in the town center, his expression showing no emotion and stance as proper as ever. Just watching him stand so straight makes Illumina's back ache.

Ranboo sobs on the spot and before he can call for his father and rush forward a hand is placed on Illumina's shoulder with a harsh grip.

The guard asks who they are, saying they most definitely are not meant to be there, and within that moment a rage so heavy it hits Illumina like a tidal wave.

A year of torture and pain, months of walking and risking his life to get here and right as he can reach it someone stops him. Illumina barely registers it before the boys jump back screaming and he's pulled his sword out to hit the other man.

He faintly hears cries of "Harvey!" As more people rush towards them. He can only focus on his blade pressing against the man, Harvey's, sword and the deep laughter filling his mind.

"It seems you've finally been broken into." The Blood God thinks aloud.

He yells for Ran to run to his dad who's being ushered of stage, his speech being cut short.

Ran looks between his father who has yet to notice him and then back to Illumina who's risked so much for him. To Purpled, who looks horrified and is trying his hardest to pull back Illumina.

And he chooses them.

Jumping between Illumina and Tapl he unfurls his large wings and yells out with a slightly staticy voice "Stop!"

And it's as if the world has stopped, the Blood God no longer speaking in Illumina's mind, Purpled can sag his shoulders in relief, and all eyes are on them.

He looks into Tapl's heterochromatic eyes and in a voice barely above a whisper says "Stop attacking my family."

Tapl steps back, the other guards step back. All can easily recognize the missing Prince, from the two-toned hair to the sparkling eyes only he possesses.

His name is breathed out and demands attention. Ranboo turns to gaze at his father from across the short distance and it's real.

They meet in the middle and Ran holds his father like a scared child, and Techno allows himself to crumble and cry. He cries for the child thought to be dead, stolen from him by those he trusted. He cries for the year and months he's spent separated from him. They cry together, and tears of pent up pain turn to tears of happiness. His grandfather and uncles appear soon enough, he's wrapped in hugs so tight and a pair of wings so warm he could fall asleep.

Purpled and Illumina and thanked for bringing him back, and all Illumina asks is for them to help them find their homes. A message is sent far and wide of Purpled's reappearance and it takes less than a month for a blonde boy, fresh i to adulthood to come crashing through the castle doors and Purpled to find himself wrapped in his big brothers arms once more.

Punz sobs so loudly it's heard from across the palace, clinging to his baby brother and cradling him like a baby.

You'd think after the royal family just about got on their knees to thank him, Illumina would be used to it and stop being so embarrassed, but something about seeing Purpled light up like he's dreamed of seeing the boy do and finally getting to see with his own two eyes the brother he talked about makes him very thankful for the mask there to hide his flushed cheeks.

Ranboo and Purpled aren't ready to let go, so Punz stays with his brother in the castle for awhile.

Illumina is asked thousands and thousands of questions, where they were taken, how they escaped, etcetera.

He takes Techno aside and confesses the deal he made in return for their freedom. He confesses he has yet to know what he's given up to the Patron and his fears. He confesses that He couldn't bare the thought of young Purpled loosing his hope and being raised in a place like that, Ranboo being hurt worse and worse for bottles of acidic breath.

He apologizes for being selfish and wanting to find his family.

And for the first time in forever, he's being held in the safety of a warm hug. He gets to cry and be comforted, he gets to be weak.

It takes longer, but one day new face appears and after four years he breaths in that ridiculously sweet scent of green apples and sweet fruits that Fruit Berries always had. He hugs his friend once again.

They show the boys their tricks, as Illumina promised. They watch them do stupidly dangerous things that make Phil, Techno, and Wilbur flinch and jump to catch the two seventeen year olds, always groaning in faux annoyance watching them land safely, Phil claiming this'll give him a heart attack and Wilbue and Techno agreeing their stupid (while impressive) actions are gonna be bad influences on their sons. Wilbur calls it quits after they manage to drag Punz in, the mercenary dueling the two of them and trying to see whether strength or agility are better. Purpled is torn between cheering for either family member and just yells words of encouragement a lot.

For once in a long long time, they're safe.

#blood tw #tw blood #kidnapping tw #tw kidnapping #mcyt #mcytblr #punz #illumina #illuminahd #purpled #ranboo #ranboolive #technoblade #ph1lza #philza #wilbur soot #tapl #jt wasnt mentioned but the otber gusrds are skeppy bad ant n sam #fanfic #to the anon of mine that mentioned them farming ranboo for ender eyes you enabled this i hope u know #but i made it WORSE and added PURPLED AND ILLUMINA

[futurebicon]

Carolina

Marine Biologist AU that no one asked for but I wrote because I miss my second home. Probably two parts.

Very brief mention of a family members death

"Hi welcome to-" Leo stopped his normal speech when he was met with the two most gorgeous men he had ever laid eyes on. "Welcome to the Fort Fisher aquarium. I'm your tour guide Leo and this is Regulus." He somehow managed to snap out of his shock even though the greeting was all muscle memory.

“Two guides. Must be special." The red haired one laughed a laugh that made doves fly. "I'm Finn." He shook their hands.

"That and both of us wanted a break from sticky children trying to swim with the sharks and gators." Reg smiled.

"Sharks? Like ocean sharks? And ocean alligators?" The shorter one asked in shock and a lot more than a sprinkle of fear.

'Fuck he's adorable' Leo swore internally. "Alligators are typically fresh water reptiles but if you are asking if they are real sharks and alligators, than no. They're they’re hyperealalistic mechanical sculptures." He kept a straight face.

"Cute and funny." Finn flashed him a smile after another angelic laugh.

Leo had to remind himself to not die right then and there.

“Don't worry, Logan" Finn told the other one. "I'll protect you from the scary teeth, baby."

Now Leo was sad.

“Oh yeah, right after you stop ogling over our hot tour guide."

Now Leo was slightly less sad and confused.

“Actually." Regulus pulled out his phone. "Our manager just texted and said he needs someone in the gift shop. Have fun." He left with a pat on Leos back.

Leo glared as he walked away, they didn't get texts from anyone for any assignment. Hence the walkie talkies on their belt loops.

“So, follow me and we can start the tour." +++

“This is our 235,000 gallon tank." Leo stood over top of the two story tall tank. In here we have our eagle rays, round stingrays, whiptail stingrays, hammerhead sharks, sandbar sharks, sand tiger sharks, hammerhead sharks. We also have two moray eels and an abundance of fish including shanks and groupers. And a personal favorite, Sheldon the green sea turtle.” Leo stood on the rusted grate with ease as if he didn’t care about the hammerhead only a few feet away from his toes.

“Um, this is great and all but can we not stand on the edge without a railing?” Logan stayed as far away as he could an the 2 feet wide walkway.

“You’re completely safe don’t worry.” Leo flashed a reassuring smile.

“Okay yeah but-”

“Stop being a baby, Lo.” Finn poked his side.

“I’m sorry I’m scared of falling into a 23 foot deep death cylinder filled with sharks.” Logan defended himself.

“Alright we can go officially start the tour.” Leo laughed. “But we do have to walk across the tank.”

“We what?” Logan asked.

“It’s okay. Just don’t look down.” He decided to risk a wink.

“Listen to the hot guide, babe.” Finn kissed Logan’s cheek. “I’ll hold your hand.”

“I love you, Harzy. But I do not trust you enough to not try and scare me.”

“I promi- no I don’t. Fine.” Finn whined when his plans were spoiled.

“Alright, let’s go.” Leo laughed.

They got across the walkway with only a few exaggerated wobbles to scare Logan. And a very grumpy Logan when Leo told him there was another way around the tank.

+++

“So here we have our bald eagle Maverick.” Leo walked up to the opened enclosure. “He’s five years old and has been here since he was two. He was found on the side of the road nearly starved after being hit by a car. If you look at his left wing you can see it juts out a little. That is due to the bones fusing together incorrectly and it makes him unable to ever fly again.” He recited the well known script.

“Poor baby” Finn stuck his bottom lip out.

Leo blinked away the urge to kiss the sad look off his face.

“If we walk up here you can see the aquariums prized possession.” Leo smiled. “Luna the albino Alligator.”

“Oh my god.” Finn hurried over to the glass.

“She looks like you, lover. Pale as fuck.” Logan teased.

“Luna is one of just 100 recorded albino alligators world wide.”

“World wide?” Logan asked in shock.

“Yeah. It’s an extremely rare genetic mutation and due to the inability to hide from predators they’re numbers are next to zero. Very soon they’ll be no more albino gators.”

“What happened to that alligators toes?” Logan pointed at the dark green alligator.

“That’s Gantur. He still hasn’t learn that Luna’s the leader.”

“She bit them off?” Logan’s eyes went wide.

“Don’t underestimate her. Ready to continue?”

+++

“This is my favorite exhibit.” Leo’s face lit up as they walked up to the touch pool.

“Touch anything as long as you use two fingers and don’t pick anything up.”

“Are those stingrays?” Finn pointed towards the end of the touch pool.

“Yeah. They’re still babies and their stingers have been trimmed. Their barbs are like thumbnails and can be clipped monthly without any harm.”

“What are those?”

Leo’s face lit up impossibly more.

“These are horseshoe crabs.” He held onto one of the dark greenish brown banjo shaped creature.

“They are also called living fossils due to the fact that they haven’t evolved at all since the dinosaurs, around 450 million years. It’s mostly due to the fact that they didn’t need anything added or taken away for survival. They were made perfectly. Now their tails.” He pointed to the long stick like end as it moved around with the help of what looked like scaley gills. “Most people look at it and think it will hurt. But it won’t hurt at all. They are extremely, extremely clumsy and use the long tail to flip themselves back over.”

“Sounds like you.” Finn kissed Logan.

“Rude.” Logan scoffed.

“Horseshoe crabs aren’t actually crabs at all. They’re actually more closely related to scorpions and spiders. Watch.” Leo smirked and flipped it over.

There were five pairs of claws moving around as the gills moved up and down like abs, causing the tail to move with it.

“Here-” Leo grabbed Logan’s hand, he tried hard to ignore the way his skin burned. “Touch it.”

“Oh no I’m okay to just look.”

“Come on, just touch it.” Leo begged. “Please just touch it.” He pouted.

“Oh my fuck you’re adorable.” Logan voiced Leo’s exact same thoughts from before.

“Here” he blushed and bit his lib to contain the smile. “Touch it.” He guided Logan’s hand down to the center of the legs, desperately trying to not think about how close they were. Logan’s t-shirt touching his blue polo shirt with his name stitched in the side. The way he could feel Logan’s breathing against his side, the way his leg was pressed between Logans le- stop it.

“Eww that feels weird” Logan’s laughed raised goosebumps on his arm.

“You’re touch his mouth.”

“Ew ew ew ew” Logan pulled his hand away quickly as Finn cackled.

“You asshole” Logan laughed as he pushed Leo lightly.

“Sorry, but it’s funny.” Leo laughed.

“You are now my second favorite person on earth.” Finn put a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Oh my god I’m crying.” He wiped his eyes.

“Wouldn’t mind if he stayed our favorite.” Logan smiled.

Leo blushed and moved onto the regular view of the huge tank.

+++

“So how’d you get a job here?” Logan asked Leo as they walked around.

“I’ve lived on the island my whole life and started volunteering here when I was 13.” He explained. “I’m going to UNCW for marine biology. Are you two just here for vacation? Even though it’s April.”

“No. We’re actually moving down here. My grandparents owned the arcade on the boardwalk and left it to me once they passed.” Finn told him.

“Oh. I’m sorry about their passing.”

“It’s okay. Didn’t really know them at all.”

“Well I’ll hopefully see you around.”

“Maybe you don’t have to hope.”

Leo tilted his head in confusion.

“We were just wondering if you would want to show us around the island.” Logan told him. “We’ve only been here for a few days and this is the first place we’ve been to. Not even the beach.”

“Oh that’s nearly a sin.” Leo teased. “I’d love to show you guys around. I get off in an hour.”

“Perfect.” Finn said happily. “Do you want to drive over to our house and then switch cars or do you need to change?”

“That’ll work. There’s a locker room and since there’s next to no one here considering the time of year Evan will probably let me leave early.” Leo couldn’t hide his smile as they walked into the brightly lit gift shop.

Logan let out a loud gasp and ran over to the 6 foot long jellyfish stuffie. “I want it.”

“It’s tentacles are going to strangle you, love.” Finn shook his head.

“Kinky” Logan wiggled his eyebrows.

Finn scoffed as three other people in the quiet store laughed.

“Oh hi again Regulus.” Logan smiled at the black haired man who was sitting on the countertop beside the register tossing a brightly colored foam ball with turtles on it between his hands.

“Hey” He smiled back.

“What’d they need help with down here?” Finn looked around the empty room cluelessly.

“He didn’t help me?” The girl beside him raised an eyebrow. “Hi, Rue by the way.” She waved before going back to glaring at Regulus. “Did Evan tell you to help me?”

“No.” Reg smirked. “Just wanted to leave Leo alone with his crushes.”

“Reg” Leo pushed him.

“It’s mutual.” Finn said and Logan nodded.

“Okay. I’m gonna go ask Evan if I can get off early so I can show you a tour of the island and then get changed and I’ll be back down.” Leo changed the subject quickly.

“They’ll show you a tour of their bedroom and then get you off early.” Rue said quietly but not quiet enough. Leo shoved her hard as Logan, Finn, and Reg cackled.

+++

“So are we ready?” Leo walked back down in shorts and a UNCW t-shirt.

A cropped UNCW t-shirt.

“Uh- yeah. Yeah. Um, yeah.” Finn stuttered failing to make it look like he wasn’t staring at Leo’s tan abs.

Finn on the other hand had no shame. His eyes raked his entire body as his mouth went dry.

“Alright. I’ll follow you guys?”

“Huh? Oh yeah.” Logan nodded.

“Get it Knut.” Reg cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted as they left the gift shop and headed outside to the 100 degree weather.

@lumosinlove

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #sweater weather lumosinlove #oknutzy #Carolina

[nikkywrites]

Fool, King of Sea (Ocean's Heart Side Story)

Summary: Amphitrite has never seen a divine fool enough face constant rejection for a domain they do not seem to like. Poseidon is, though, the greatest fool she's ever met. And Calypso is a great friend, when she's not being irritating.

*****

One thing that is of short supply in the ocean is good fun.

It can be made, of course, games built around redirecting ships to wrong ports, seeing who can sneak unaided by divinity into captain's quarters, who can race from Crete to Corinth the quickest. Games that are not made for one.

Calypso is good fun when she wants to play, is a challenge Amphitrite loves to play with. They toss their wins back and forth, banter in barbs they only laugh at. Calypso is a great companion, when she is around.

But there are times when she is not.

Alone, Amphitrite gets bored all too quickly, aimlessly searching through the water. She'll rest with her creatures some days, care for them like the pets they all are, but some days she wants excitement and no one is around to deliver.

Then comes something rarer than excitement -- a divine looking to be king.

It is obvious at a glance that this man does not belong. He is tall with thin hips and too much rage boiling in his bones. He must be some sort of new, thinking he can demand ocean to let him rule. It chooses who it will.

Watching this godling try to force himself upon her home is amusing. It remains cold, rejecting and rejecting him. What a fool, to keep trying.

He slinks away eventually, face pinched and muscles coiled tight. There's a rage boiling in his blood, rage the water rejected without hesitation. Amphitrite laughs at his retreat. It is little wonder her domain does not want him. He is entirely too hot for the cold waters. He will boil her home to steam or it will shatter him.

Ah. Well, it was nice while it lasted. Divines did not handle rejection. He would not face the humiliation again, however amusing it would have been to watch. She feels Calypso's call below, from the deep that is more home to her than Amphitrite, the deep that even she finds too chilling. She watches the point of shore the young god had been standing on and turns to go find Calypso. The call is purposefully untraced and it is a call to find her before she rises to air.

The young god's defilement of her home slips from her mind.

-----

Calypso can look awfully disappointed when she wishes to, can arrange her features in a way that niggles even at her. There is something about the arch of her brow and the curve of her frown and the angle of her eyes that stabs at Amphitrite in a way it shouldn't. It is a look of too much divinity towards something that cannot bear it, but Amphitrite can bear Calypso's divinity just fine. It is a trick.

"What?" she asks eventually, a bite to her words that would make a mortal faint.

Calypso turns her gaze elsewhere, to the seaweed curled up beside them, curled above in a little bubble as the water outside churns them away somewhere else. She stares at the weaving. "Nothing," she says in a too-friendly, too-simple tone.

Amphitrite narrows her eyes. Calypso has her ways of haggling for everything she wishes, from whoever she wishes it from. She recalls the moment she'd learned how Calypso had earned her tentacle-swarmed form. Calypso has never hungered for something she did not get and that nettles at her.

It was not fair.

"Don't play your games with me," Amphitrite warns. "I do not hold patience for them today."

Calypso lifts a cool shoulder. The move is infuriating. "Alright."

The silence burns.

Nothing should be burning under the water, in the deep cold of the sea. There is not allowed any warmth. Certainly not heat.

Amphitrite's glare burns hotter. "You are playing," she says.

Calypso's gaze slides over. Her body language is all relaxation and distance. She is at ease but there is something in her expression, something churning in her mind. "How so?"

That was the question. Then, the answer comes.

"You are trying to nettle me," she says, feeling the answer is right but not knowing why. What reason could there be for Calypso to want her angry?

"Maybe you shouldn't be so easily nettled, then."

Amphitrite's lip curls at the accusation. "What ill is in you today?" she asks. "You're being sour."

Calypso seems to consider the words, rubbing her lips together, She shrugs. "I am not sure." Her eyes flick over nothing. "A passing mood, I think. I want to stir trouble but it's too dreary a day for mortals to be out."

She snorts delicately. "Right. Warning, next time. I warn you."

Calypso's smile looks empty. There is nothing wrong with its shape but it looks false. "Sure. Apologies for wounding your ego."

"As if."

The smile shifts, looks more real, more like a smile that belongs on Calypso's face. "You may barb me back," she says, "if that would ease the sting of your pride."

Remaining bits of Amphitrite's anger fall away. She laughs and Calypso joins in.

"Shall we travel for a mortal?" Amphitrite offers. She is all too aware of these moods of Calypso's, times where she is reaching for something that does not quite exist. She had murmured the word chaos once, describing it.

With all the things she represents, all she is and the price of it -- Amphitrite does not think it worth it. There is an emptiness to Calypso sometimes, like the bottomless abyss that leads to the Underworld, that only knows to soundlessly call. That wrongness. It must be her price, for being the face of too many things.

In her rare moments of softness, Amphitrite worries over how it will cause her trouble one day.

"No, this is fine."

Fine. Because nothing can please her now.

It's her curse. The burden of being all the ocean is.

Amphitrite is grateful that the burden is not hers. The deep is enough for her, the cold and the creatures. She could not imagine more.

The seaweed begins to part. They both gain a sense of being in a different section of ocean, placed anew by a combination of both their powers ordered to drift them away.

Amphitrite looks over at Calypso. Her eyes are terrifying, sometimes. They look as if they can see through all. Laying secrets to the sun.

"You should take a mortal," she suggests. "I know how highly you think of them, but having one is quite fun."

Calypso's eyes churn. She gazes out at the water. "Mortals bear much misfortune by our hands," she says. "I see no reason one needs to bear the misfortune of me."

Amphitrite sighs. "Ready, then?" One day, she would convince Calypso to get a mortal. She didn't understand Calypso's protection over them. She spoke for them when opportunity drifted by, but when she wears her other shape, she swallows them like a fish. No remorse. No guilt. No regret. How can she advocate for them so and have their blood dripping in her soul?

It was not right. Many things weren't with her. It was why she was so fun.

"Am I ever not?"

Amphitrite grins. "Go, then."

They race, power folded under their skin, to find the place they had started at.

-----

The god fool returns.

Amphitrite does not seek his appearance, but the backsplash of his untethered divinity beating against the water reaches her. She comes not from the boredom, this time, but the fun she knows will be there.

The god -- Poseidon, the ocean hisses at her as she travels, one of Cronus' rebelling children -- is just as entertaining as she remembers.

He thrusts his sad excuse of divinity over top the water, steps his foot into the splash of shore, growls his place like it is something he can demand. "I am Poseidon," he says, putting too much force in each syllable, "god of the sea."

Amphitrite's laugh is a soft thing her domain swallows. How foolish.

"I will," he speaks with bared teeth like a roaring beast, "be king of you."

Her laugh bursts. The waves splash with it.

Poseidon -- the fool king -- pulls his head back like he's insulted and a tantruming child. "I am son of Cronus and Rhea," he tells her, unknowing she is there. "You will obey my will."

Amphitrite rises. "I think it will not," she informs him, lips pulled in an effortless grin. To him, it probably appears smug and demeaning. It's not her fault he's made it so easy to humiliate him. "The ocean listens not to those it does not care to. You're best finding a domain somewhere else, little god."

He glares at her. It should be some degree of terrifying, since he aided in the capture and downfall of the Titans, of Cronus, but he is unclaimed and she is in her home.

His glare is about as scary as a baby jellyfish.

"I will be king of the sea," he says.

She sighs. "We have many monarchs already. What need is there for you to be another?" Her eyes rake over him, judging. "This is not where you belong. Go tie yourself somewhere you fit."

His lips lift into a sneer. "I will take this for my domain whatever I must do."

Amphitrite lifts her brows and starts to sink under. "Your lost time, little god." She goes back to her depths. What impudence in that one. The world would not bend to his wiles just because he ended an era of tyranny. He would have to come across a place to store his divinity somewhere else. The ocean would not bend to him. Others have tried.

None succeeded. Becoming patron of the sea is as easy as being accepted by it. If you are not, you will never be.

Simple as that.

-----

"Fool," she scoffs at a whale, running her hand over its flesh. "Why must all new gods think themselves kings of things already claimed? There are plenty of other things they could tie their divinity to."

The whale echoes a call. Amphitrite rubs it soothingly.

"I know." She flicks her gaze to where the fool had been. "Impudence. May the Primordials never let his name be known."

Her hand flexes.

"It is undeserved."

-----

Poseidon is apparently stubborn, alongside his foolishness. Perhaps when this doesn't pan out, he will be god of screeching fools. It suits him much better than the sea and was unclaimed, waiting for him.

He's also screaming for her.

She crests with impatience, shooting him a look packed with all the cold of her domain. He has the sense (not a complete fool then) to fumble some of his confidence. "I told you the ocean would not be yours," she says, "and yet you returned."

"It must be mine," he replies. His eyes dart to the sky, something uneasy flashing across his face. "There is no choice."

She scoffs. "Hardly. There are a thousand unclaimed things you can leer your power over with hardly any struggle at all."

"I will take the sea or have nothing."

Amphitrite tips her chin up. "Enjoy the emptiness then, little god. Try not to let chaos swallow you. She loves the unclaimed."

"I am not unclaimed," he frowns at her. "I choose the ocean."

"Yet it has not chosen you. Take the rejection and find something else."

His lips part. His teeth are flat and unsuited for the blood of ocean living. "I will be patron of the sea no matter what it takes."

"Find a way for it to take you, then. Be a fool. It's amusing."

He strikes at her with divinity her ocean diverts for her. It has little patience for this imposter and his greed, is fed up with his demands. "I am no fool."

"You're demanding gifts like a petulant child." She looks down her nose at him, haughtily lifts her chin to look elsewhere. "I thought you fought in the war."

His chin flies up, features hardening. "I did."

Her lips curve up. "So where is your power? Tell me, great one, what domain is yours?"

His face flushes. She thinks that if she was on land, he'd tackle her. He's apparently not fool enough to dive in the water for her. Unfortunate. It would have been a fun sight. "What is your domain?" he redirects.

"I am Amphitrite," she tells him. Defeat causes his eyes to darken. He recognizes the name. "I am goddess of the deep and the creatures that dwell there."

"A sea patron," he clarifies, lip thrusted out.

One corner of her lip rises without consent. "Yes."

He wrinkles his nose at her reply, staring petulantly at the sand under his bare feet. He drags the ball of his foot against the sand. "So you mock me," he grumbles. "I am just searching for what you have."

Amphitrite laughs. "I belong to the sea," she says, waves lapping against the deep gills slashed on her throat, curling over her collarbones. She looks like her creatures, like a thing of the ocean. It is of no question that she belongs. It is of every question that he does. "You do not. It is as simple as that."

"That will change."

"And I will enjoy your attempt," she promises.

-----

Calypso frowns at her. "You are encouraging him," she accuses.

"What?" Amphitrite lifts her brows and doesn't let her movement to sit beside Calypso lag with the shock. She settles on the sea floor easily, a jellyfish coming to drift by her shoulder. She wraps one of its stinging tendrils around her finger. "I am doing no such thing."

"You are toying with him like a mortal." Calypso continues on unfettered. Little is capable of doing that, if anything is. Amphitrite has not seen anything that is. "Like you're planning on taking him."

Amphitrite shoots a cold look at the other goddess. What accusations. "It is harmless fun."

"He is a god with power yet unknown. It is not wise to taunt what may yet be stronger than you."

"He is a fool," Amphitrite waves her hand. It will not matter. He is determined to take the sea and he will not. He does not fit and does not have the making to force himself to. He seems bound to be a sea god and she thinks he is foolish enough to try until time's end. He may be a strong god, but unclaimed, she will always be more powerful. Such is how divinity works.

Calypso expels a short breath out her nose. "As are you."

"When are you ever wise?" she bites out, cutting the words into blades with her teeth. "You lurk in parts of the sea not yours. You claim to love the sailors you eat. What wisdom is that?"

"Lack of wisdom does not make me a fool," she replies, unbothered by Amphitrite's harshness. "And I am sea patron just as you are. There is no place not fitting me."

"I am queen of the deep." It is hers by her divinity.

Calypso flicks her gaze over. Her face is composed, unflushed, and she looks bored by the conversation. “You never go that deep. No one does. It borders the land of the dead. Do not try to lay your claim over things you do not want.” Her eyes slide away and her mouth purses with a slight twist. Anger? Disgust? Annoyance? “And where I dwell goes deeper than the deep. It is the abyss and you are not goddess of that.”

“It’s the principle of it.”

Calypso laughs. “As if you care for principle. We are both gods of something already claimed. Let details flutter where they must. They are not worth bickering for.”

Amphitrite clicks her tongue. Her sharp fingers dig into her flesh. “Yet bicker you do.”

“You are the one trying to claim what is not yours.”

Amphitrite’s face pinches. “You are irritating, today.” She pushes up, gliding away. “I do not wish to be in your presence.”

She feels Calypso lay back. “As you wish,” she says. “Do think before you flirt with the god. He is trouble.”

Amphitrite snorts as she calls a stream to carry her away. She was not flirting with the fool. She was toying with him. Laughing at his idiocy. In what domain was that flirting?

She was not looking for a husband. She was content with how things were. And even if she wasn’t — she doesn’t wish to wed a fool.

That would be foolish of her.

-----

“Amphitrite,” he calls her by name. She has felt his presence at shore for hours, but did not rise to tease him. Calypso’s words turn in her mind.

She was not looking to court this god. But did it appear that way? Despite the accusation, Calypso was clever. She had sharp eyes.

She would not speak untruths like that, but her honesty can grate. Who was she, to tell Amphitrite what her claim was? Did their domain blessing her with a second form fill her head over capacity? Amphitrite could make her own choices. She did not need a goddess, friend or not, telling her what her intentions were.

She did not need others telling her what she was.

She crests over the waves with her blood pounding hot in her veins. It makes her heart glow, a ruddy red that pierces through her translucent skin, pulsing with the beat of her heart. “Fool,” she spits out.

Poseidon lifts his brows. Something like concern passes over his face. It vanishes just as fast. “I require assistance,” he says. It looks like the words are difficult to say. They should be.

She barks a laugh. He flinches at the sound, like she’d flung a spear of divinity at his head. She throws her head back. She pulls in a breath with a grin that stretches her cheeks. “How does your pride taste?” she asks.

She’s being cruel, she knows, but Calypso thinks she was flirting. She thinks that there was enjoyment here. She wants to control Amphitrite? To tell her the reason she is doing things?

Let her see that she’s wrong. Let her see how her pride tastes when she takes it in her teeth and swallows it whole. Let her realize that sharp eyes and a clever head did not make her all-knowing.

The fool widens his stance, squares his shoulders in a vain attempt to look powerful. His divinity is but a babe in his chest, young and fluttering. “What?”

“You’re eating your pride.” She tilts her head. “Not all of it, apparently, but some. I asked how it tasted.”

“You—” he stabs a finger at her face. “You are rude.”

She chuckles, subdued. “And? What reason is there to be kind?” She rises to her feet and steps closer to the god, the ocean still thinly under her feet, tugging at her ankles. She tilts her head and looks up at him. “You are not anything to fear, little god. Not as you are now.” She steps closer.

The water bids her return. She ignores it. She is not flirting. She is not making an enemy, she is making a point.

Let Calypso see this.

“Anyways, you called me here. It is a blessing that I answered. Are you willing to let rudeness send me back without getting what you were hoping for, whatever it is?”

“No.” His hand makes to reach for her but freezes. His fingers twitch. He lowers his arm. “I— forgive me,” he grits, jaw tight with tension. Is he angry with her? Good.

She hums, not denying or accepting the apology. “What did you call me for?”

“Assistance.”

Amphitrite scoffs. “Of course. You have already said. What assistance do you seek?”

“I,” he takes a breath, “I wish to know how I could become a god of the sea.”

She stares at him, waiting for the joke, the laugh.

It does not come. Right. He is not like Calypso with her sharp humor that is often not humorous at all. He is being serious.

Truly, how did he expect to be a god worth fearing if he has to ask how to gain power?

She sighs, pressing the tips of cold nails to her cheek. “I’ve already told you.” She bends her fingers and presses the bend of them to her cheek. “The ocean must take you in turn. It is not a decision yours alone.”

“How do I… get it to take me, then?”

She considers his question.

“Please it or find a patron to take you instead. It will work as well as the domain taking you itself.”

His eyes spark and his hand lifts again.

“No.” She steps back in the surf. The water rushes in around her. “It takes much strength to take another god and farm their divinity. I have no reason to take that burden for you. Find another.”

“You are the only one I have met,” he explains, an undercurrent chopping his words too close together.

One corner of her lip pulls to the side. “Meet another, then. I will not do your dirty work for you.”

His eyes flash up at the sky as a boom rattles through the air. “I do not have time for that,” he tells her gently, eyes flicking between gray clouds and rust-green eyes.

She looks at the sky and shrugs. A storm. Why does that make him flinch? “That is not my bother.”

She turns on her heel. The ocean welcomes her back, tugging her close. It splashes Poseidon’s feet when he takes two strides after her. His fingers brush her shoulder. “What price would it take?”

Amphitrite rolls her shoulder out of his reach. “Pardon?”

“For you to take me.” She turns to look at him. “What price would you accept?”

She purses her lips. “We would have to wed,” she warns. “We would bound unlike any other.”

His breath shakes. The set of his brow stiffens. “What would it take?” he repeats.

Amphitrite taps her fingers against her mouth. He is desperate enough for this? To bind himself to her for the rest of eternity? “It will not be able to be undone,” she says. “And I do not see you with anything worth paying that price.”

He looks at her, beseeching. “There is no time.”

“So you have said.” What a broken record he was. No time, he must be a sea patron. On and on. Why did she think him entertaining?

Because he humiliated himself and seemed blind to it? It was amusing to watch, at first, before he dredged her in, trying to make a prisoner of a settled goddess. For her to take him in a way that gives him hold over the sea, her own weakens. She loses while he gains.

What could he have to make that trade — that loss — worth it? She did not like him as a god or a man. She liked her domain and her creatures.

It was not worth it, to humor him and his fear.

He drops to his knees. The damp sand caves under the blow. He lowers his head to her. “Please,” he asks. “I will do whatever you require. Anything you ask. I need to be made king of the sea.”

Amphitrite settles, folding her legs beneath her. The water surges and recedes around her collarbone. She takes in a considering breath. He was a son of Cronus, a brother of Zeus. There were tales that they were building a place for gods and something like that would surely be quite powerful. If she aids in his endeavor to be the sea’s face there, perhaps she will be face, too. It could not hurt to have an ally among a leader god, a— what did Calypso tell her that one time? A throned god? There were to be twelve, she thinks and they were to be honored by mortals as no god has before. “Convince me.” She tilts her head and weighs his every twitch in her mind.

Desperate gods are not all that different from desperate mortals. Not if the god is a fool, which this one has proven to be.

He will sacrifice more than he is comfortable to pay if she makes him squirm enough. He will offer enough that the deal goes in her favor.

Amphitrite has always been good at making others uncomfortable.

-----

Calypso’s divinity is an easy thing to bear, when they are in the deep, where Amphitrite is most powerful. When they are closer to shore, it twinges something in her. It makes itself a burden difficult to shake.

Calypso’s fury is a tame thing. Her acts of wrath are not sunken ships and slain sailors. Those are calculated, are not done on whim, is not something she does out of anger.

The only thing her anger does is temper her words into silver blades. She is most eloquent when she is furious.

“You are a fool to be told,” she says, dismissing greeting. The cold bite in her voice sinks into Amphitrite’s chest. Her eyes — do not look furious. She does not look angry at all. Not like Amphitrite expected when she settled her deal with the Olympian and took back to her water.

She looks sad.

The cold thing Calypso placed in her chest pulses. “What do you mean?” She lifts her chin, trying to look unaffected. She does not want to have this conversation so close to the surface, where Calypso’s divinity slips in through her gills as easily as water.

It is too distracting. Too— too easy to succumb to, especially if it with sadness that Calypso confronts her and not anger.

“You struck a deal with the Olympian.” Her eyes drift lower, focused on the joint of her collarbone, the little divot where Calypso’s divinity always rests. “It was not a wise deal to strike.”

Amphitrite waves off the words with a scoff. “However do you mean? I know how to bargain things in my favor.”

Calypso purses her lips out. Her eyes lift. They are sadder, now, and Amphitrite glares to keep them from pulling her in. Calypso’s reasoning was always wise but not always wisest. There were other perspectives that occasionally offered wiser things. This was one of those times. Calypso did not know the deal she struck. How could she? Amphitrite shielded both of their words from sinking in the water and Calypso was not near enough to wriggle around it. “Do you.”

She does not say it like a question.

“Yes,” she affirms anyways, her eyes reshaping into a frosty glare.

Calypso’s brow lifts. “Right.” Her eyes sink towards the ocean floor.

Amphitrite propels herself back. She speaks with a lifted lip. “Do not patronize me,” she warns. “I know what I’ve done.”

Their eyes reconnect. Calypso’s gaze is like an anchor, dragging her down. “I doubt that,” she whispers. “I really do.”

“You don’t know,” Amphitrite says, a steep edge to her words. She doesn’t know. She can’t. But that gaze, that sadness — she clearly thinks she knows something. But what?

“For your sake, I hope I don’t.” She bows her head and does nothing as Amphitrite pushes herself forwards and sinks back to her domain. The water pulses with Calypso’s sorrow. It coats Amphitrite’s teeth until the cold of the deep freezes it out and even then, it lingers.

-----

“You are a fool to be told.”

“You struck a deal with the Olympian.”

“It was not a wise deal to strike.”

Calypso’s words have bad habit of festering in Amphitrite’s mind. She tries to brush them off, to leave them to float at the surface, but they sink right alongside her, anchored with steel to her throat. It is a chained collar of worry.

“Do you.”

“I doubt that.”

Patronization that is actually worry. Amphitrite has never known Calypso to needlessly worry.

The words she speaks are always anchored with truth. Weight. Her words never float because there is reason behind each syllable.

Her nails dig into her palms, seeping the water in divinity that will only be hers alone for precious little time. Was Calypso right to be concerned?

An eel skims over her shoulder, curling around to brush against her arm. Amphitrite strokes it with the hand not bloodied in divinity. “What do you think?” she asks. She lifts her other palm and stares at the dull gold. “Was it a mistake?”

The eel swims away.

Amphitrite’s ankle twitches. “What help,” she says. She closes her fingers over her palms, shoulder jolting with the pressure.

What help indeed. What mistake did Calypso see in the deal she made? What flaw was she being blind to?

The dark curls around her. The deep embraces her in its chill and its emptiness. No matter how poor a deal she made, it will still be here whenever she needs it. Her domain will not disappear because she’s abandoning it. It will not abandon her in equal turn.

That is not what it wishes to do.

It chose Amphitrite as a queen and it has little choice but to respect her decisions. If she wishes to deal herself to an Olympian, to bend herself in the way that bends her domain — then it has little option but to obey. Their queen has commanded.

It may be her last order.

-----

"Little king," Amphitrite greets, tilting her chin.

Poseidon’s eyes glint. He looks pleased in a way that worries her, now. Before, she had thought it was just satisfaction at getting what he had spent sun-turns cajoling for.

Had he played her? Had she stepped into his trap? Was he wise enough to set one?

Was she foolish enough to fall for it?

The concern must be showing on her face, because Poseidon’s mouth twists into a grin. Easy and proud, like a king’s.

She was making him king.

He was getting everything he’d asked for. What was he sacrificing to her, to even the field? A few promises a wise man could eventually wriggle his way out from? Some words that could be torn apart?

Words unsworn on the Styx?

Her chin dips as she swallows. Her eyes do not leave her future spouse. The companion she’s going to swear her future and her divinity to.

Calypso had her reason to worry, did she not?

No. Yes.

Poseidon may not be the fool she thought. That much is becoming true. But she is no less wise. The deal may be skewed, but it is not one-sided. It is not unfair.

Amphitrite would never swear herself to anything that could be turned upon her. She does not make a habit of underestimating an enemy enough that she bares her belly to them, that she leaves herself entirely at their mercy.

Poseidon thought her a fool, and struck his bargain on that option. Amphitrite thought him a fool, and struck a deal that could work even if he turned out to be wise.

She does not nest all of her creatures in the same section of sea.

-----

It is not painful.

It feels like it should be. Ripping one’s divinity from their blood should be an excruciating thing. But it is painless.

Her divinity slips from her body like her blood had earlier, when she cut her palm in her heightened emotional state.

It is simple, in other words. So very simple.

Her creatures lurk around them both in the ceremony, netted above them like an elaborate trap. As if either of them could decide to switch their mind now.

Deals have been made. Divinity should not turn back on their blatant word.

“Careful with your words, little god,” she warns, tilting her head as she examines him. He is nice looking, she supposes, though she doesn’t think him nice enough to warrant wedding him. But there are worse looking things she could tie herself to.

As if that was consolation, but it was nice. Her heirs, at least, would have chances to become more.

He lifts his chin at her before tucking it back into place. He is taller, technically, though Amphitrite keeps her feet off the floor so their eyes are level. The sea feels far more frigid than usual.

Is it her domain, mourning what she used to be? Is it mourning her choice to make this god it so obviously rejected its king?

Is it her almost-wedded, already controlling what is all around him?

No. Her domain would not grant him his gifts until it was due.

The vows, too, feel as if they should stick in her throat or come out bubbling in electrified acid. But they, too, are easy. They slip out like the fine silk donning them both, silks dyed matching shades of blue.

The color suits her well. It offsets her hair. It does not suit him. It is not ill-suiting, but it does not suit him as well as the color of the domain he’s to control should. The color should, when worn, appear as if it is the only color that would do him justice. It should be the only thing that fits the divinity humming under his skin.

On him, it is just a color.

A nice color and nothing more.

It was not what it should be. He was a false king. His divinity was not made to churn the tides and her domain was not made to crash under his order. She was not made to be bound like this and he was not made to be bound to her.

After, when her divinity is raw in her chest, glowing heart pulsing weakly behind glass ribs, she takes his hand. “I hope you find this worth it,” she says, looking at him through her lashes.

He squeezes her hand and pulls his back. “Of course it was,” he replies.

She wonders if he can feel the strings wrapped around his joints. If he can feel the pull over him she has knotted in his chest. He made her swear to him the rights of her divinity, the capability of making ocean obey his command.

She made him swear his devotion to her will.

Can he feel that? Does he know the depth of that vow? That they were more than words and that as her divinity is bound to him, his is bound to her similarly?

It was, as Calypso said, an unfair deal. But it was unfair for them both. Painful like stabs and broken bone. Like horse and cow. Weak comparability.

They were both losers. That was unquestionable.

It was silly of Calypso, though, to think that Amphitrite did not know what she was doing.

She was no stranger to making deals.

-----

“So it is done.” Calypso is lying on the floor, observing the sharp points of nails she isn’t bothering to blunt. She doesn’t like to bother with shedding all the features of the predator she is, especially right after she’s taken a ship to sate her appetite.

Amphitrite never bothers to look mortal. It is not the form that is natural, like it is (more or less) for most of the divine. She is queen of the sea and she looks the part. She is of the sea and one could tell at a glance. “Yes,” she replies, digging up sand with her fingers.

Hers are sharper, technically, as Calypso’s aren’t really nails. They’re more akin to the suckers that line her arms when she is Kraken, just lengthened and enlarged to fit the rough anatomy of human fingers. If she gets them in something, there is no getting them out.

They are dangerous in a different way.

“Have the effects settled yet?” Calypso lifts her chin and the movement allows Amphitrite to see the thick bob of a swallow. As if she was uncertain. Concerned.

Amphitrite thought they were done with that. The deal is done. Calypso does not know better.

“What effects?” she asks, though her bones throb with the fragility of her lessened divinity. She’s been weak, since she wed the fool king, but it is strengthening slowly. She will be back to normal. It may take some decades to be back completely, but that is nothing to her.

Calypso’s breath bubbles up. “Of gifting away your divinity.” She tilts her head and slides her gaze over. “How fares your hold on your domain?”

“It is fine,” Amphitrite defends instantly. She pauses. Is it? Usually, she is approached and surrounded by the wildlife she rules over but that has been absent. It is an effect of her weak divinity. When that is back, so will they.

The sailor goddess hums, noncommittal. “I would be wary of each irregularity.”

“There has been none.”

Calypso’s eyes roam the empty water around them. It looks casual enough, but this is Calypso. She is making a show of looking, turning her head when there is no need. “Right,” she says. “Still. Do not say I did not try to warn you of the danger you enrolled for.”

“It was not dangerous.”

That, Calypso does not answer.

-----

Poseidon is building them a castle. He is insisting upon it. “What kind of rulers would we be,” he says, his hands clasped around her arms too tightly, “if we did not have a throne?”

Amphitrite pries her way out of his grip. “No rulers at all,” she replies. She looks at the construction, at the rising architecture of gems and coral. It is a beautiful thing, already, not even half built, but she is beginning to be aware of the dangers Calypso spoke of.

Her divinity is tied to her husband and he is, in turn, binding it to this castle. To the throne that will be hers. He has not admitted as such, but her divinity hums in the desire, the attempt. She would point it out, would fight, but there is little point to. She cannot undo what is done. She will have to live with her vow and attempt to find some other way out.

“It is beautiful,” she tells him, because he wants to hear it and it will do no harm to be on his good side.

He beams, watching the construction with pride. “Is it not?”

No, her domain whispers in her ear, monotone and sad at once. It does not have emotion like the living, but she can feel its mourning all the same. When it had accepted her as a patron, it was not for this. It is not.

Her domain sympathizes, in the only way it can. It does not offer help. It could, she believes, shatter their deal if it wished, but. The ocean takes after its namesake. Oceanus does not care for what happens in his home and body and neither does the ocean. They are, in fact, one in the same.

Amphitrite holds her eyes shut a moment. “You can go to Olympus,” she tells him.

His head whips over, a fight brimming on his tongue.

“That construction is more important for you to oversee. I can handle this.”

He squints.

She laughs, tilting her head mischievously. “Do you not trust me, husband dear?”

His mouth parts and he bites the words back with a click. “No,” he says. But, all the same, he turns to join his brothers in the making of a place for gods.

She smiles at his retreat. It looks like silver.

The new husband is so hungry for recognition, he’ll want to spend his days on the throne that matters. There was no glory in being a sea king, if you were searching for masses of mortal worship. The ocean would not provide that.

So she had the mercy of knowing he would not be a constant fixture at her side. She could pretend everything was sparkling, in his absence. That her throne was hers alone.

Despite the horror it took to get it — she’s liking the idea of a palace. Of a throne. Of the comfort of knowing her place in mortal’s mind is secure. She can lounge, now, and still be remembered just the same.

Tension leaks from her shoulders.

She thinks she could learn to like this. She did, after all, gain more than she gave.

What was a little divinity, in the end, for a palace and memory steadfast?

-----

Calypso is… displeased is the kind way to put it but neither of them are kind. She is appalled in a wrathful, furious way. That still feels too kind. Calypso feels more Kraken than goddess.

“Pardon?” she asks, sharp teeth snapping around the word.

“You heard me,” Amphitrite says, leaning back against a wall of her new palace, rubies studded around her in a bloody halo. “Do not feign deafness.”

Calypso laughs. There’s a wildness in the gesture, a feral sort of energy to it that raises Amphitrite’s guard. “I must be going so,” she says. “Because surely I did not hear you right.”

“You did,” Amphitrite confirms.

Calypso looks at her like. Like she’d just admitted to relinquish her divinity for a mortal child. Like the very idea is too wild even for them. “What ill poisoned your mind?” she asks. Her arms gesture around to the glimmering castle. “This was not worth the price. It is a thing. You could have done this yourself if you wished.”

Amphitrite watches the outburst languidly. She has never seen Calypso so active. Even when they are racing and she is enjoying herself, there is a relaxed sort of grace to her movements, a backing of calm that permeates through anything else. Even when she is worked up, there is still sense about her. Amphitrite cannot find any now. “You wouldn’t understand. Not with your mind pried shut.”

“He fooled you.”

“He did no such thing. I am aware of the deal I made.”

Calypso scoffs. “Then you are the foolish one. You may not understand the gravity yet, but this choice will grow to haunt you.”

“Sure it will.” Amphitrite looks down her nose. “I fail, though, for the record, to see how this,” she wiggles her fingers outward, gesturing to the palace, “could ever be something I’d regret.”

Calypso’s mouth parts. She bites her words back with a tense jaw. “I suppose we will just see then,” she says, voice back to its typical distanced tone.

Amphitrite nods. “We will.”

Calypso nods back. She does not look pleased, still and that is not entirely a surprise. She is so rarely pleased, when things do not go the way she thinks is best. But she is not entirely displeased, either, which is an accomplishment alone, even if a miniscule one. She eyes the walls of coral and gems, mouth twisting down as she takes in the opulence of it.

It is about the reaction Amphitrite expected. Calypso’s tastes are simple and this is anything except. But that was fine. The palace was not for Calypso nor would she reside there. So it did not matter if she liked it. It was to Amphitrite’s taste and it was to be home.

A place easy to pin. There were perks to having a place to settle and Amphitrite fully intends to take advantage of them. Having mortals on hand was one. She’d always wanted to keep one long term. Her chance for that had come.

Calypso’s eyes drift back to Amphitrite. There is something in her gaze that tries to tug at Amphitrite’s divinity. It has weight that Amphitrite has never felt, not when she is this deep, in the heart of her domain. She swallows it down.

“So we will,” Calypso repeats.

Amphitrite knows she is right. This castle is to be a kind of prison for them both, her and her new husband. There was no worry in that. Calypso did not know details and she was assuming the worst. It was a sweet thought. Her fault for not believing in Amphitrite’s cruelness, however. She knew how to deal herself sweetness from a bitter fool.

Still, to be a good sport, she nods.

Time will prove one of them wrong.

*****

This is still all drippingmoon's fault. Hope you liked what I created.

Tags: @caffeinewitchcraft @super-writer-gal @drippingmoon @blindthewind @notwritinganyflufftoday @mel-writes-with-her-dragons

#writeblr #writblr #creative writing #writing #greek myth retellings #greek mythology #amphitrite #poseidon #calypso #nikkywritesstories #my writing #wip ocean's heart #wip oceans heart #this is such a bare bones way to tell the story and i am undecided on if thats a good or bad thing #i could totally go into this more though #so if you want more. send asks? ill rant happily #i think its the tone i find off though. its a little different from how i usually write. probably why i have mixed feelings on this #or i hope thats why at least

[capisback]

character A hasnt seen character B for years. they're both villians in a superhero AU and they reminisce about the old days where they worked together or had a common interest in killing a/the hero/s. They don't use their real names, just their villain names. Maybe they're secretly into each other, who knows. Go wild babe. i imagine they meet on top of a building and suprise eachother.

Nothing ever changed in the city Melusine called home. Once, a long time ago, she’d hoped it would. She’d thought maybe she could change it with her own two hands. Take it, and twist it, and make it new, better, make it a city she and her family could live in without – well. Everything that came with being different.

As she stared over the monotone greyscale cityscape, given colour only by the setting sun, she thought of how foolish she’d been.

She’d started being a Villain at seventeen. Young enough to hold such naïve hopes for herself and the future.

Melusine sighed, kicking her legs, which dangled over the skyscraper’s edge, back and forth. She sounded like an old lady, and yet she wasn’t a day over twenty-six.

Pigeons scattered up from the lane right below Melusine, a luxury car speeding past as if it owned the street. She briefly considered sending a bubble down, trapping the car inside, and letting it and its driver stay suspended for an hour or twenty-four.

Gravel ground under someone’s feet, behind her, to her right, and she instantly summoned five paralysis bubbles to her fingertips. She whirled around, poised to throw, but stopped short, almost frozen, when she was met with a familiar – albeit a little different – figure.

“Vougn?”

“Méduse?” Vougn all but gaped at her, posture and features openly displaying her shock. “Is – Is that really you, Méduse?”

“Vougn”, Melusine breathed.

“Méduse!” Vougn launched herself towards Melusine so fast, that Melusine, out of reflex (and necessity, she later realised, seeing as she’d been about to be tackled off a skyscraper), threw a bubble towards Vougn, trapping her inside.

“Hey!” Vougn whined. “This isn’t what I call a warm ‘Nice to see you again’!”

“Sorry.” With a flick of her fingers, the bubble dissolved. “Reflex.”

“Hmm, good to see you’re still sharp, even after all this time.”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

“Please”, Vougn laughed, walking up to Melusine this time. “How long have you been a Villain for? Ten years? And I haven’t seen you for the last four of them, so sorry if I’m pleased to see you haven’t gotten rusty in your old age.”

“Har har”, Melusine said with a fond roll of her eyes. “I’m old, laugh it up.”

“Awww, don’t be like that, Méduse.” Vougn shoved her shoulder, seating herself next to Melusine. “If it’s any consolation, you look just as pretty as when I last saw you.”

Heat flushed across her cheeks and nose, and she quickly turned to look back at the city, away from Vougn.

“You don’t”, Melusine said loudly.

“Aw, I don’t?”

Melusine’s face, rather than cooling down, became a tad bit hotter at Vougn’s teasing tone, and she turned her face away to the left even more.

“You look even prettier”, she said, only a bit clearer than a mutter. And it was true. Vougn had changed overtime. Cropped her dirty blonde hair to just beneath her chin, where it had been a long braid when she and Melusine had had their partnership, and she’d changed her colour scheme to a fetching black-and-red.

“Hmhm~”, Vougn hummed, victorious, teasing grin clear in her voice. “Thought so.”

“Your personality’s terrible, though.”

That shocked a laugh out of Vougn. “Well! That’s what I’m known for!”

“What a pity to be both beautiful and a bastard.”

“Oh, Méduse, if you keep complimenting me like this, you know how we’ll end up?”

Ah, well, that didn’t help Melusine’s long-held (and previously dormant) crush get out of overdrive at all.

“Locked in battle?” she tried, hoping her voice wasn’t several pitches higher than usual.

“Yeah. Taking down our very own Superhero together.”

“You mean Draft?”

“Him, and whatever other hero we want.” Vougn sent her a cheeky, dreamy grin.

“That does sound nice, doesn’t it?”

If only it was something they could do – something she could do. But she hadn’t been able to realise something that big for a long time. When they’d started out, she and Vougn had been a great team. Draft had been a bit of a novel hero then, too, and he’d been so much fun to toy with. Too bad that Heroes got actual training, while they had to figure it out for themselves. Really gave the Heroes a very unfair advantage, and the Villains didn’t get enough credit for their actually quite impressive feats. Not that anyone was going to praise a Villain.

“Remember back in our first year?”

The sun dipped below the skyline, rays of gold, molten sunshine illuminating them through the haze hanging over the city.

“I remember all our time together, so you’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

Melusine chuckled. “The first time we captured Draft? Got him to spread my sticking bubbles all over the city. He was so upset.”

“Oh, oh, yes”, Vougn chortled. “Of course! God, and when we hung him by a rope at the edge of that gargoyle? I lit a fire under him, and he got right to begging! ‘Buh-buh-buh-lease’! He was so pathetic!”

“He is! And he’s gotten such a big head now, despite only having some so-so wind powers. Borea has amazing control over it, and the tricks she does are amazing, but you don’t see anyone complimenting her.”

“The fate of being a Villain, I’m afraid.”

“And who names themselves Draft? Who let him name himself that?”

Vougn sputtered a laugh. “It’s probably the best he could come up with since he’s so damn daft!”

“Oh my god”, Melusine laughed.

“Right?” Vougn wiped at her eyes. “What would you have called him?

“Probably just Daft, I think that’s perfect.”

“It checks out, for sure, but really. If you had to give him a proper Superhero name, what would it be?”

“I don’t know…” Melusine twirled her hair around her finger. “Something cool? Like, let’s see… Zephyr?”

“Oooh, sounds fancy. What’s that from?”

“It’s the Ancient Greek name for the western wind.”

“Oh, man, that would’ve been so much more intimidating than Draft. Can’t believe I have to regularly beat up a kid called Draft and not Zephyr.”

Melusine bit back her laughter as she tried for mock-sympathy. “Oh, no, poor Vougn. Having to kick ass and not even having someone cool to beat up. However will the number three villain recover from this injustice?”

Vougn sniffed and wiped away an imaginary tear. “Thank you, it’s really hard.”

“How is it, though, being a big time Villain? Everything you hoped for?”

Everything fell silent for a long moment. Melusine was struck by the weariness of Vougn’s expression, the tired curve of her back.

“Well…” That bitter, breathy laugh shouldn’t come from someone like Vougn. She was upbeat, bright, and sometimes a little too much. She wasn’t quiet, or reserved. She wasn’t bone-tired and disillusioned. Not the Vougn Melusine remembered.

But then again, neither was Melusine the one Vougn remembered. The world had changed them both. Maybe too much.

Melusine, too, was tired.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you”, there was that cheeky tone again. Both a relief and a painful sting, since it was so obviously strained, an attempt to divert from her inner turmoil. “How are you holding up? I see you’re still rocking that jellyfish aesthetic.”

She motioned to Melusine’s blue-and-white, puffy (and jellyfish-frilled) skirted outfit.

“I’m getting kind of tired of it, actually.”

And of everything that came with it.

Maybe she and Vougn still made a perfect pair, after all.

“Oh. That’s too bad. I think it suits you.”

Melusine cracked a smile. “Thanks.”

They settled into a long silence. Dusk rapidly caught up to the time. The long shadows cast down on the city below disappeared into the dark. Only they, up on their skyscraper, were privy to the beauty and the setting of the sun, and the movement of the Earth.

Her grandmother loved dusk. Le Crépuscule, she always said, refusing to use the English word. Her grandfather had once told her he’d had to bargain with her to keep from naming their little crafts-and-herbs store that. She had to admire her grandfather. Her grandmother was a hard woman to bargain with.

“You know”, Vougn said. “When I first got these powers, I never imagined I’d turn out like this.”

She let fire dance across her fingertips, the bright orange flickering and casting a warm glow between them.

Melusine huffed, bitter and understanding. “Me neither. They always tell you you’ll be the hero, don’t they?”

“Yep.” Vougn popped the ‘p’. “But, hey, they also say everyone’s the hero of their own story, so I guess they’re a little right.”

“No, they’re not.”

“No, they’re not”, Vougn agreed, and snuffed out her fire.

Melusine closed her eyes and tilted her head back, face towards the clouding sky. This, this, was nice. Calm, quiet. Peace. She wanted that. No more battles, being yelled and cussed at, no more injuries and long days and late nights.

She wanted a life. A proper one.

“Vougn”, she said, softly. “I’m quitting Villainy.”

“What?”

Melusine looked back at Vougn, surprised by the disbelief in her voice, and even more at the distress on her face.

“I’m quitting”, she repeated, firm and resolute. “It’s not worth it anymore, Vougn. All of this, it’s just – ” She sighed. “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to.”

“But – but you had such big plans!” Vougn stumbled over her words. “Weren’t you going to change things?”

“And where have I gotten with that?” She looked at Vougn with earnest sorrow. “Tell me, Vougn, how have I changed anything? How will I ever change anything? We’re not the heroes of this story. At least, not me. Maybe you still have a chance. But I’m done, Vougn. I’m – I’m so tired.” She choked on fresh tears.

“Méduse…” Vougn hesitantly reached for her, hand hovering in the space between them.

Melusine clasped that hand tightly with her own two.

“Will you remember me?” Her throat was raw. Her feelings clawed, sharp and unbidden, up her chest. “When I’m gone. Will you at least remember me?”

Vougn swallowed thickly, frozen for a moment, but then she placed her other hand, gently but firmly, a promise and a reassurance, over Melusine’s.

“How could I ever forget you?”

Melusine let out a wet laugh, her smile wobbly.

The caress of Vougn’s thumb over the back of her hand was gentle, comforting.

“Méduse”, Vougn’s voice was soft. “I just – I want to –” She frowned, struggling. She tried again. “Will we ever meet again?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

“Me, too.” A pause. “I’ll search for you.”

Melusine smiled, soft, and for the first time in a long while, hopeful. “I’ll love to see you try.”

#Anonymous #hello thank you for this prompt because I think I'm in love with Meluse #me: this is going to be short :) #also me: writes 1785 words #ok so maybe I should explain Meluse's jellyfish theme? #so like her name is méduse #and this both means Medusa #AND #jellyfish #idk why that is but I really love it #french did a good job with this one #first I wanted to call her Méduse as in medusa and then I went with Médusine but Melusine kept calling to me #so in the end I used both Melusine as her first name and Méduse as her villain name #and Vougn comes from Vough (or Fuath) which is gaelic and I didn't think Vough fit very well and for some reason my mind kept going Vougn so #here we are #also I'm not very good at writing superhero/villain stuff lol #but I tried! #I had to cut a few small things I wrote because it didn't fit in with the rest and im sad #it's been ages since I last wrote something so thank you SO MUCH for this prompt #I had a lot of fun!! #hope it's somewhat alright #I'll probably pick out a few things I would've changed later but so far I'm pretty pleased with it #hope you enjoy it too!! #cap's writing #writing #hope there's no mistakes either lol #but eh we'll see #prompt

[aziraphallist]

When the world doesn’t end and Aziraphale suggests they go on holiday, Crowley almost bursts a vessel in his eyes trying not to say yes too emphatically.

It takes them some time to decide on an itinerary, of course, and a little longer still to be really sure they’re safe enough. If sentimentality is what leads Crowley to suggest the south of France—after all Aziraphale is so fond of crepes and good wine—there’s no one on earth who can prove it. Which is practically the same as it not being true.

However, it must be said that there are a few aspects of this vacation Crowley failed to adequately consider. To whit: even Aziraphale knows a full suit with bow tie, shirt, waistcoat, and jacket is inappropriate attire for someone on holiday in the south of France, and now Crowley has to cope with the sight of his angel in light trousers and—and Crowley cannot emphasize enough how completely this destroys him—a fuchsia linen shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. Jesus wept. At least he’s wearing socks with his loafers; if Crowley had to go straight from layered in triplicate to flashes of bare ankle he’d probably set the whole country on fire. He just helped stop the apocalypse; he’d like to enjoy the world he saved, not discorporate immediately.

They spend two days tasting all the local delicacies (Aziraphale), getting lazily drunk on the best vintages France has to offer (both of them), and gradually becoming used to the fact that Aziraphale’s forearms are extremely shapely, perhaps even bitable (Crowley) before Aziraphale suggests something moderately terrifying.

“Well, it’s what you do on holiday, isn’t it?” he says, indicating the upscale boutique. “And the weather is lovely…. It would be a shame not to take advantage.”

Crowley should have suggested a holiday in Antarctica. “All right,” he agrees, folding like a card table. “Whatever you like, angel.”

Unfortunately for Crowley, not even the most upscale boutique carries the sort of 1920s swim costume Crowley suspects Aziraphale would favor given the chance. He could maybe, nearly, almost live with that. Nor does Aziraphale seem particularly inclined to go for the wetsuit option, not that that would be any better. But no, Aziraphale’s insistence on purchasing real clothes that will last and also manage to suit his modesty requirements means Crowley has to endure him in knee-length white-and-coral striped shorts, with a white rash guard top that clings everywhere and leaves nothing to Crowley’s imagination, which works double-time regardless.

He probably shouldn’t be surprised. It’s always Crowley’s grand ideas that cause him the most trouble in the end.

Crowley miracles up his own swim costume to satisfy Aziraphale, but like Heaven he’ll actually let anyone see him wear it. It’s just the principle of the thing. Instead he lies on a large tartan beach towel the sand is too afraid to infringe upon, procures a cocktail with a little black umbrella, and presents Aziraphale with a swim ring shaped like a unicorn. “Go on, then. Have fun, angel.”

The beach is crowded, but beachgoers who venture too close to Crowley’s towel soon find themselves remembering they left their valuables unattended, or realize they desperately need a wee, or discover they’ve had too much sun and need to go back to their hotel for a nap. Apart from keeping them away, Crowley pays them no mind, focused on Aziraphale in the water, bobbing up and down in his unicorn float ring, beaming so widely Crowley has no problem discerning it from the beach despite his poor day vision. He’s obviously fine. No agents of Heaven or Hell here. Just the two of them, retired and on holiday, doing whatever they like.

Eventually even with the glasses the brightness begins to hurt his eyes, so he leans back and closes them, pulls the edge of the towel over his face for extra protection, conjures a very long straw for his cocktail, which he wedges into the sand. This isn’t so bad, really. The sun feels nice. He should sun himself more. Maybe he can convince his apartment it needs a skylight or two.

Everything is vaguely wonderful: rhythmic waves crashing on the beach, warm sun, excellent frivolous beverage. If he has to do this again tomorrow he’ll get bored, but, well, he can always summon a few jellyfish. No one’ll get stung, but avoiding the beach due to jellyfish will spoil their holiday all the same. Yes, that’s a good idea. And perhaps he can find Aziraphale an appropriate swim costume online. They do have overnight shipping these days—Crowley’s proud of that one. And—

A bone-chilling scream interrupts his idle daydream. Crowley has never heard it before, but he would know it anywhere. Aziraphale.

Before he can think about it, he’s discarded his glasses, leaving his drink and towel in the sand as he sprints to the water. The minute his bare foot touches ocean he sheds his skin, sheds it and sheds it and keeps shedding as he plunges into the water, a vast dimension unfolding from inside him, unraveling, uncoiling, until Crowley is sixty feet long and as thick around as a bodybuilder, made of teeth and menace and destruction.

Whatever hurt his angel is going to pay.

Dimly he registers the panicked screams of frantic beachgoers abandoning their earthly possessions and running for higher ground, but he doesn’t spare them a thought. He is hunting. What monster dared to threaten Aziraphale?

In the water, Crowley’s senses are more acute. He can sense Aziraphale just a few meters ahead. A few rapidly departing fish. One moray thinking oh shit merde putain fuck!! very loudly as it beelines for safer waters. An octopus that wishes it had stayed home today.

None of them are anywhere near Aziraphale, who is bobbing in an area populated only by some unusually old and therefore large Posidonia.

Crowley breaks the surface indignantly, treading water in human shape. At least, the part of him that is above the surface. “For fuck’s sake, Aziraphale, it’s just a little sea grass! The way you shrieked, I thought you were being murdered.”

Aziraphale goes pink-cheeked and sheepish. “Nonsense! I was merely startled.” He looks around the beach pointedly and then adds, pointing those eyebrows and his insinuation at Crowley, “Though I think my actions may have inadvertently led to something of a larger sensation.”

The beach was deserted, the remains of blankets and backpacks and lunches and sand toys lying abandoned in ruin. On the plus side, this would sour far more vacations than a simple jellyfish scare.

Before he can deflect, though, Aziraphale presses on. “I should have known, of course,” he says, and oh no, that’s the tone he uses when he’s about to pay Crowley a compliment. “You always come to my rescue, you old serpent.”

Crowley’s blood suddenly gets very warm and rushes to his face. “No, I—that’s—you’re—” Aziraphale smiles indulgently and Crowley stops trying to be cool and tries to change the subject instead. “Angel. I saw a little gelato shop up the strand a ways. Can I tempt you?”

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale says, so fond and sincere Crowley nearly burns with it, “I don’t think you’ve ever stopped.”

Then he pauses, and while Crowley is still frantically trying to stop his brain from turning into a snake again so it can have a blessed emotion without having to think about it, he shakes his head and adds, “Titanoboa, really, Crowley. You can be so dramatic.”

And he turns and paddles toward the shore, leaving Crowley sputtering and speechless in his wake.

(Inspiration post)

#good omens fic #ineffable husbands #snake crowley #good omens #my writing

[chainsmokespens]

Wizard Rager

Somewhere in the courtyard an emptied vial shattered loudly against the cobblestone. Long, violet vines were crawling up the pillars surrounding the open space. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, but the rumbling of thunder resounded and the flash of lightning zipped along the sky.

Vicente rubbed his fingers across his eyes as he set his stein beneath the keg’s tap. The sun was too bright today.

Discovering that he had a gift for magic is what saved him from having to go to his local college. He wouldn’t have to deal with taking two years of meaningless classes in the loose hopes that he’d be allowed to graduate with his communications degree.

A witch in the courtyard was hit by a plume of red smoke. She emerged from it a wizard.

He wouldn’t have to spend his well-earned money at the cafeteria; meat that had never been alive, vegetables that had never been exposed to the real sun’s light.

One wizard in the corner couldn’t handle his potions. He wretched up a bit of yellow-green bile, followed by a green-yellow tentacle.

He wouldn’t have to live in a dirty room, woken up every morning by his roommate finally getting back, still drunk, a new partner on his hip.

Vicente finally thought to twist the tap. The brew began to float upwards. He considered that it may have just been the nature of the batch, but when he himself started floating, he said a small chant to affix his gravity to the ground. Most other’s in the courtyard weren’t sober enough to do the same.

And, finally, he wouldn’t have to deal with the frat house parties. Living adjacent to his local college’s campus his whole life, he knew that when they partied, the whole town partied.

The vomiting wizard finished, falling to his back in exhaustion, as the tentacled…thing he had thrown up undulated like a jellyfish, moving toward the city at the bottom of the hill.

No, having awoken to his magical potential, Vicente leapt at the opportunity to finally get out of his home town, in spite of his poor grades. He’d get to explore a hidden continent and live in a pre-modern city, away from the noise pollution, light pollution, and regular pollution he’d grown used to over the years. He’d get to see legends preserved in time and reality, unviolated by the limiting scope of science. And he’d get to pierce the cosmos, internalizing that the periodic table of the soul was infinitely more expansive, more powerful, and could drive humanity farther than anything centuries of science in an “enlightened era could”.

Two witches stumbled to the kegs, each erroneously leaning on the other to support their drunken gaits. One belched and a puff of white fire escaped her. The both broke down laughing.

Those were the promises, anyway.

A ball of mud whiffed past his head, clung to the wall, grew limbs, and began to ascend to the gutters. He tried to twist the keg again, his mug filled with a frothy, purple elixir.

Vicente’s classes here were far from meaningless, but they did propose some concepts he couldn’t understand. The nature of the periodic table of the soul, for instance, implied that for every element you discovered ten more would appear. Text books were written in English, but it was Old English, and they were all written in some form of thrice-reversed cursive. And, most surprisingly, almost every potion made needed to be fermented at some point before its powers would take effect.

One of his professors, demonstrating out his newest batch of potion out in the courtyard, held a barrel up to his mouth, dousing himself as he drank from it. And then he lit himself on fire.

The food at the school was natural, just not natural to any world he knew of. Eating the food he’d grown up with, Earth food, “mundane” food, apparently did nothing to nourish him as a magician. To get those nice magic minerals, you needed to eat food from other worlds.

An alarming degree of which was still sentient when it landed on the plate.

There was a soft hum in the distance. Looking up, Vicente saw something falling. The soft hum evolved into a scream as the wizard got closer. He collided with the cobblestone, his flesh and bones shattering like an eggshell and his clear viscera spreading out. A little yellow chick hopped from the mess and made its way to the dorms.

His room was, thankfully, clean, but his roommate did still come back with a different partner every night. Some of them were other witches or wizards. Most of them were just shaped like witches and wizards. Vicente spent much of the previous night awake to the sound of clicking teeth and woke to a curtain of mucus hanging around his bottom bunk.

He looked around at the courtyard, magic flying wildly.

The ragers that happened were unimaginable, consistently unimaginable. Last night alone the city streets got flooded by a river of sheep’s wool. People dining in open areas had their steak dinners turn to boars and their pork dinners turn to bulls. One of the professors went streaking, a litters-worth of cats springing from her feet with every step. Another professor made the planets align fifty years too early because he wanted to get his brew done quicker. A few wizards made their way into the chapel and some sort of god opened the clouds, throwing bolts of lightning to drive them out.

Vicente brought his stein to his lips. Back to work.

 Prompt: [WP] Potions can work miracles, but the brewing process requires fermentation. Wizard battles frequently devolve into drunken bar fights.

#reddit #writingprompts #flashfiction #fantasy #magic #beer

[recentanimenews]

FEATURE: Wanna Feel Old? Here's 10 Anime That Turned 10 This Year!

  Time flies when you're having fun, and in what seems like the blink of an eye a decade can come and go before you know it. At the time of this writing, the year 2010 was ten years ago. It was a great year for anime in many respects, but with the blazing speed with which new seasonal anime offerings pass through fandom's public consciousness, it can be difficult to realize that some of our favorite modern anime may now be considered “vintage” or “retro” by the younger fans.

  Presented in alphabetical order, here's a short list of ten anime from the far-flung, formerly future year of 2010, compiled and curated with the express purpose of making you feel old.

  Image via Funimation

  Black Lagoon: Roberta's Blood Trail

  Aw, geez. It's really been a decade since we last got an animated version of the adventures of Rock, Revy, Dutch, Benny, and the rest of the criminals and crazies that populate the gritty city of Roanapur? Is Rei Hiroe ever going to finish the original manga? Is it still on hiatus? This set of OAVs was super dark, even by Black Lagoon standards. Maybe it's best to leave things well enough alone ...

  Black Lagoon: Roberta's Blood Trail is distributed in the United States by Funimation.

    Durarara

  My interest in this show dropped off when it began focusing more on the rivalries between Dollars and other gang organizations rather than the scythe-wielding, motorcycle-riding dullahan and the bouncer guy who's so angry that he can lob vending machines at people. But to realize Durarara is a decade old (and by extension, Baccano! is even older) makes me feel like that dude who withers up when he sips from the wrong Grail in Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade.

    Occult Academy

  A cool, original anime full of ghosts, psychics, aliens, time travel, and a protagonist with a sneering distaste for all of the paranormal nonsense she has to deal with on a daily basis, Occult Academy is now in the double-digits category in terms of age. It's a fun and smart little show, but realizing it's been around for a decade makes my bones ache.

    Oreimo

  A light novel adaptation with a rather specific interpretation of the phrase “keeping it in the family,” I never watched Oreimo, but I remember it being both extremely popular and extremely controversial when it was initially being streamed and broadcast. To think the flame wars this show ignited on internet message boards have now been burning for a decade or more ...

  Image via Funimation

  Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt

  In the time since Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt premiered, most of the creative talent that put Gainax on the map has moved on to form their own studios (TRIGGER, Khara, etc.) and left that once-proud company as a shell of its former self, or two shells if you count Gaina (formerly Fukushima Gainax). After ten years, there's likely no longer any hope for a sequel, but I still love the rude, crude, and lewd adventures of this pair of fallen angels. I even love the notoriously trollish ending.

  Panty & Stocking with Garter Belt is distributed in the United States by Funimation.

  Image via Funimation

  Princess Jellyfish

  I love Princess Jellyfish to death, but the thought of the Sisterhood trapped in a full decade of awkwardness and isolation thanks to their poor social skills and weird hobbies is a terrifying one indeed. Will any of them ever get a real job? Will Tsukimi find happiness despite her romantic struggles? I really ought to finish the manga to find out ...

  Princess Jellyfish is distributed in the United States by Funimation.

  Image courtesy of GKIDS © 2010 Studio Ghibli - NDHDMTW

  The Secret World of Arrietty

  Wait a minute, I saw this in the theater during its first international run. That was back when Disney was still releasing Studio Ghibli's catalog, not GKIDS. Do movie theaters even exist any more? How many more films have they released since then? Does anyone remember The Secret World of Arrietty as a perfectly decent, non-Miyazaki, non-Takata Ghibli film?

  The Secret World of Arrietty is distributed in the United States by GKIDS.

  Image via Funimation

  The Tatami Galaxy

  Unlike some other entries in this list, The Tatami Galaxy has managed several spin-offs and sequels in the ten years since Tomihiko Morimi's novel was adapted into an anime by Masaaki Yuasa and MADHOUSE. A show that can be enjoyed on its own or as a complement to The Night is Short, Walk on Girl — The Tatami Galaxy is still great fun, even if you have to imagine that after a decade or more, the main character and the Raven-Haired Girl have probably each long-since graduated from college and may well be on their second or third divorce.

  The Tatami Galaxy is distributed in the United States by Funimation.

  Image via Hulu

  Trigun: Badlands Rumble

  Hey, remember how you loved watching Trigun on Adult Swim back in the day? That was in 2003. The original Japanese broadcast was in 1998. Trigun: Badlands Rumble, the most recent animated version of Trigun, was released in 2010. That was a decade ago. I am old. You are old. We're all old. Even the young ones among us are old ...

  Trigun: Badlands Rumble is distributed in the United States by Funimation.

  Image via Funimation

  Yamada's First Time: B Gata H Kei

  After a decade of effort, I wonder how well Yamada is doing in her quest to seduce 100 handsome members of the opposite sex? Judging by her level of success in the 2010 TV anime, she's probably still working on the first vertical line in that particular tally.

  Yamada's First Time: B Gata H Kei is distributed in the United States by Funimation.

  And there you have it, a nowhere near exhaustive list of 10-year-old anime to make you feel old. 2010 was a big year, and other honorable mentions include titles like Gintama: The Movie, Sound of the Sky, and Mobile Suit Gundam Unicorn, all of which are now old-school, whether we want them to be or not.

  Which titles from the year 2010 make you feel the existential horror of hearing the music you listened to in high school being played on the “classic rock” station? Let us know in the comments section below, and always remember to acknowledge the follies of youth.

      Paul Chapman is the host of The Greatest Movie EVER! Podcast and GME! Anime Fun Time.

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features! 

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

[starship-imzadi]

S1 E1 Encounter at Farpoint: parts 1 & 2

I'm going to just start by saying I love TNG, but that doesn't mean it isn't painful to watch at times. The first season has a lot of painful moments.

The opening shot of the Enterprise is very clearly and brightly lit from beneath...what is the light source supposed to be?

Troi's hair is so ridiculous it's only surpassed by her dialogue. And oh how painful her dialogue is. Props to Marnia for sticking with it.

Data clearly needs access to the urban dictionary.

This two part episode does a lot for establishing the TNG world. Gene Roddenberry is known for being a progressive but often he, or the writers, seem to get in their own way. Q as a tool for testing that progressiveness is very important if imperfect. As a product of the show himself, he fails in many respects to be properly progressive in his own right.

Notice Troi is in uniform, but with short sleeves and a short skirt. By contrast Tasha has trousers and long sleeves like the men, all of which seem to be one piece suits. In engineering you can see one man also dressed in short sleeves and skirt around 11:00 and one in the hall around 14:00.

I'm curious what a "printout message" is. It sounds analog but I'm not sure how that manifests. I certainly don't remember hearing it used ever again.

The pacing for this feels quite slow and the saucer separation is reminiscent of Star Trek The Motion Picture and all of their special effects "showing off".

Tasha wants a fight so bad.

Troi actually get to do something with communications!

I wonder what the "frozen" stuff is.... It makes me think of old Hollywood asbestos snow

I know Patrick has done a lot of Shakespearean theatre but are we really suposed to believe the first "classic" quote uttered by a progressive egalitarian society is from a white male?

Riker without a beard is so uptight. Riker does some dumb stuff in this show, BUT I also really like him (I'll point out why as I go). Okay, so every character is a synthetic construct built by the opinions and ideas of writers, producers, costumers, directors, the show runner, other creatives, and ultimately the actor who portrays that character. So, there's a lot of opportunities for inconsistencies or poor development (I know that a pessimistic perspective.) I appreciate subtly in writing but at the same time I'm not looking to explain away poor writing or creative choices either.

An issue I have with Roddenberry's vision for the future is how synthetic everything is. Half of the props look like they're made of plastic and most of the costumes look like polyester.

The video they show Riker makes me wonder how was it recorded, and edited, and why is it so uninformative?

Data says the saucer section will be there in 51 minutes but then two minutes later tells Picard they've arrived.

I've seen a quote attributed to Patrick Stewart saying "Jonathan Frakes couldn't manually dock a bicycle." The real question is why make Riker dock the saucer section manually?

Riker: permission to speak candidly sir

Picard: always

"I don't feel comfortable with children"

Geordi is in constant pain from his visor. What an odd detail to include. I think it's mentioned only once more in "Loud as a Whisper".

Data exists as a character to fill the spot of Spock. In philosophical terms they are perhaps the reciprocal of each other, one wishing to avoid his humanity the other wishing to embrace it. Despite being a beloved character, Bones has a prejudice against Vulcans he's not to shy about showing, often references physical difference he's uncomfortable with like green blood and pointed ears. It is fitting to note he treats Data with a similar "skepticism". He even calls Data "boy" which is reminiscent of racist terminology used against black men in the southern United States. In TNG season 2 Dr. Pulaski feels to me to be very much like Bones in her demeanor and proves to share the same prejudices against Data.

It's admirable that Worf admits his mistake and his desire to learn from it.

The fish is the Captain's ready room really completes the image of the entire Enterprise being decorated like a doctor's office in the 90's. Even the carpet on the floor fits.

IMZADI!!! Sorry, it's my weakness (no one will ship them harder than Marina and Jonathan and I'll happily be a crew member on that ship)

But honestly, this is awkward. Picard introduces them and they just stare at each other....not.... blinking. (As they talk telepathically) which I think the writers forget is a thing after this episode.

"I consider it important for my key officers to know each other's abilities"....that almost sounds suggestive.

Riker's movement to kneel next to Troi when she experiences emotional distress is one of the first specific moments to note of what might be called "emotional physicality". The blocking allows Jonathan to be in frame but opposite Patrick for dialogue exchange but emotionally it allows Riker the character to be in a closer, supportive place for Troi. Troi and Riker's initial meeting is one of shock, they know each other and seeing each other is significant but we don't really know if that's good or bad. Riker's movement here shows that beyond the shock of seeing each other the emotional reaction he has is one of concern and affection.

This ensign is totally flirting with Riker and ....Riker doesn't flirt back. Not sure if Riker just wasn't comfortable yet or if the writers hadn't developed that part of his character yet.

So...if the holodeck makes stuff like a food replicator...what are the people made of? (I guess more on that with Moriarty).

I know a lot of people dislike Wesley but... let's be fair, the writers didn't do him any favours.

I'm not really sure why Troi suggested she go with Riker to look around but it certainly gave him the opportunity to reject her.

I just noticed Troi's painted nails.

Marina is really giving a performance above and beyond everyone else in this episode. And it's sweet that Riker goes to comfort her.

Oooo! Picard and Crusher....also, mama Crusher going to bat for Wesley is important.

Of the Enterprise crew, Tasha and Troi have definitely displayed the most emotion of anyone in this episode set.

I'm not really sure how Riker is supposed to have impressed Q...

Hurray for the space jellyfish

Some of the camera work in this episode is just weird...

Engage!