#frog parse

[moe-broey]

Oh my god I hit tag limit on that one I am so sorry. 🧍

BUT LIKE. HONESTLY. I AM. AUTISTIC ABOUT THE ART PROCESS ITSELF. ABOUT SHAPE LANGUAGE AMD COLOR LANGUAGE AND HOW A DESIGN IS LIKE. A Strong character design with a clear intention behind it should not just Look Cool (though that is an added bonus!!!) it should tell a story in and of itself!!!!!!!! That, even at a glance, you can get a feel for who this character is, what their personality is, what role they play and/or are forced into, AND ALSO!!!

Something I'm esp autistic about tbh as someone who has an interest in fashion/crafting/sewing as well, how the clothes Work With the character. In a few different ways: again, the clothes themselves tell a story! The costuming! But also! How does the character move in them? What does that Say about that character? Where are they from? Not to mention the shape language/colors come back again, now w alllll the fucked up shit you can do with fabric!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fluffy? Not just in the fur sense (eg, a petticoat with bouncy puffy frills)? Could be a really bubbly character!!! Flowy? Graceful? Could be someone who's mature, knowledgeable, wise. A female character who opts to wear shorts instead of a skirt? Could be sporty! Or practical! And also in general Big Clothes/accessories can make a character look imposing.

LIKE...... reading this over it is so basics character design 101 but like. I am ALWAYS frothing at the mouth about it 😅

#SOME DESIGNS I LIKE. w the example i kinda touched on. #sharena and edelgard both falling into shorts wearer category (academy arc el specifically) #lissa falling into big round frilly dress category (WITH! A SHARPNESS! having the hoop skirt cage exposed) #while maribelle a HIGH FEMME chara wears pants. VERY NEAT juxtaposition there (esp w lissa being more #'tomboyish' if you want to define her that way w her proclivity for frog catching and prank pulling LMFAO) #still! interesting how she's not a Tomboy tomboy in the way you'd generally expect (like hinoka for example) #ALSO. I'VE MENTIONED IT BEFORE. BUT CELINE'S DESIGN DRIVES ME SICKO CRAZY (GOOD WAY) #LIKE. it tells you SO MUCH WHILE subverting your expectations!!!!!!!!! AT THE SAME TIME!!!!!!!! #and honestly the deeper i think about it the deeper it goes. she had to force herself to grow up fast. #she USED to be a crybaby. now she's a lot more shrewd and practical. BUT SHE'S STILL SILLY.. still playful at times... #she's split between being 'mature for her age' and acting exactly her age. and her design REALLY drives this home #AUGH....... #i feel like i've picked/thought only femme presenting examples but i do think it's a little easier to parse out LMFAOOO #at least with my areas of experience! (someone who prev presented VERY femme in girlmode into femme transman fag style now)

[loumauve]

#don't mind me just slowly losing my mind and making more absurd edits that maybe one person will be able to parse #do not perceive me but also pls do #I'm running on 5 hours of sleep and not much else #but hey my old tablet is good for one thing and one thing only (Pocket Frog aside) and that's being able to actually write with a pen #unlike my laptop where all edits have to be done with the mouse and therefore I didn't even try to make the hair disappear in this one

[that-guy-sleepy-miles]

In Ray & Frog, Rayman and Bullfrog wear a few different outfits! I drew them out for reference purposes for my screenshot edits and for ease of imagining for my readers!

You can try to parse out whatever spoilers you please from these images, or just take them as silly things I drew. The choice is yours <3 I hope you enjoy their cute little looks!

Transparent versions under the cut

#sav art #rayman #cl rayman #bullfrog captain laserhawk #cl bullfrog #clh #clabdr #captain laserhawk #CLABDR au #rayfrog #Ray & Frog AU #upcoming fic #fanfiction #my fic

[captainofthetidesbreath]

It's always interesting when a character thinks this way but being only interested in saving something that loves you / not particularly wanting to work to protect something that doesn't love you is such a limited way of engaging with the world. Just to sort of messily talk through with wrt Imogen in this latest episode (3.79).

To love back as a prerequisite for defending something's right to survival is self-centered. The mollusks and trees and frogs and beetles and stones do not love us (at least, in ways that most people readily interpret and parse as affection), but still we should fight to protect them.

Imogen has always been rather self-centered (as in largely concerned with her own affairs and highly prioritizing her own needs and how things relate to her specifically — however, this is not inherently bad in a character, I emphasize, and it makes her complex and interesting) in her perspective on the world, but generally speaking, from outside of that perspective, in the idea of trying to fight for the survival of something (or deciding against doing that), the consideration of whether that something loves you is misguided. Even outside consideration of the gods, not every person in the world will love you, not every animal and plant and rock and river, and that has no bearing on questions of survival and place in the world.

Imogen has a right to feeling bitter or resentful or hurt, and it absolutely makes sense she feels this way and it is not at all bad that she does, but I think there's a lack of perspective in that this is a conflict that is larger than personal feelings at an individual interpersonal basis. In fact, Ludinus is counting on everyone prioritizing their personal feelings above everything else, on not only feeling negatively but ALSO allowing those negative feelings to overwhelm their judgment.

And, it's an interesting flaw that Imogen consistently has, in that she recurrently has trouble conceptualizing that she and her feelings and her concerns and how things affect her are not always the most important concerns, especially in situations of scale. She lives very much in her own head, so to speak, and she has trouble looking outside of her own point of view.

But, it sparks some core questions about that. Why do they need to love you specifically for you to consider protecting their survival? Is your personal bitterness so important and valuable that you will consign them to annihilation? Do you ask everyone and everything in the world to love before you allow them the dignity and right to exist?

#Critical Role things #CR spoilers #I am not tagging properly rn bc I don't want this to get out of hand. #That said I will turn off reblogs if anything even mildly annoys me so everyone behave.

[randomnoteforfuturereference]

So irl, D1 hockey teams tend to have full-time equipment managers/directors of operations. And if there are student managers, they tend to be hired by said full-time managers.

Going by the comic, it's implied that the student manager *is* the manager and takes an active role in operations of the team. And the preceding manager is who has a hand in picking their successor.

Now in terms of the narrative, it just makes sense that things are streamlined so you don’t have bit characters all over the place.

But in-universe, it opens interesting possibilities of Samwell Men's Hockey operating slightly different than its counterparts at other schools. Ie it's a smaller team where the students have a lot more say in how it's run and, in turn, are more responsible for their stuff.

So Lardo/Ford doesn't just look after equipment but also organizes stats, oversees video, greets prospective frogs, sends messages to communications director, takes care of transactions and budget, and so on. In turn, the athletes take a greater role in picking up after themselves.

Which gives a lot of depth to A) why Ron the asshole analyst dismisses Samwell as "some tiny ECAC school in Massachusetts" and B) why Parse disparaged the team as "shitty".

Which in turn makes their victory all the sweeter.

#larissa duan #denice ford #omgcp #check please #omgcheckplease

[chronicowboy]

Its embarrassing really. Eddie would like to make it abundantly clear that he's very aware its embarrassing. Mortifying, even. Humiliating, etcetera.

Really, its nothing.

Its just... Well, the bride had frozen outside, a few feet away from a blossom tree, and the winds had been whipping the petals around them as they worked on her, and Buck had looked so beautiful backlit by the sun as he spoke with the bride about her dream wedding. And then a petal had drifted into Buck's hair, and Eddie had been paying a little too much attention to how it was almost the same shade of pink as his birthmark, and then there had been a searing pain slicing through the juncture of his thumb.

Its nothing.

(Its embarrassing. He's a thirty-five year old man, a firefighter, for god's sake!, and he cut himself because he was distracted by a flower in Buck's hair like a schoolgirl staring at her crush. Yeah, its definitely embarrassing.)

Bobby had sent him back to the ambulance to deal with the cut which is how he finds himself here, trying to rip through the tape with his teeth as he fumbles the gauze he was trying to hold in place with nothing more than will power and an injured thumb.

The gauze drifts away on the same wind that had carried that fucking petal, but a boot stomps on it before it can fly away into the ether. With a sigh, Eddie tilts his head up to squint at Buck.

"Need a hand?" Buck quirks an eyebrow at the sluggishly bleeding cut, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. Eddie has to fight to keep his face blank, Buck's smug joy damn infectious.

Eddie doesn't answer him, just hands Buck a fresh gauze pad and the roll of tape. Buck sets the tape down on the floor of the rig as he crouches and picks up Eddie's hand instead. Eddie has to hold his breath to stop it hitching in his chest, a revelation even Buck wouldn't miss, at the tenderness of Buck's hold. Its achingly gentle, so soft Eddie almost wouldn't be sure anyone was touching him at all if it weren't for the way Buck's fingertips burn into his skin like tattoos.

When Buck leans in close to inspect the wound, so close that Eddie can feel his breath on the skin of his neck, he leans back on his uninjured hand for a moment of respite, a breath of cool air against his warm cheeks.

Buck wipes away the drying blood with a carefulness that Eddie doesn't feel deserving of. Here, in Buck's hands, in Buck's care, he feels like something precious. No, like something holy. Like maybe all the pain and suffering was worth it if this is where he ends up, with Buck rubbing circles into his wrist as he presses the gauze to the cut.

"Hold it there," Buck murmurs quietly, something reverent in the way he moves his hand to make room for Eddie's fingers on the gauze, a choreographed dance like they've done this a thousand times before.

He reaches for the tape, discarding the saliva-sodden piece Eddie had been gnawing at helplessly, and rips off a new length with the serrated edge Eddie had forgotten existed. Buck cradles his hand once again, turning it upside down, and Eddie is irrationally terrified that his heart will appear in his palm as an offering.

(He wonders if Buck would take it, if Buck would know that he already has it, if Buck would tuck it right next to his own for safekeeping.)

Buck slides the tape onto his skin in one swift motion, kind enough not to mention how clammy Eddie's hands are, and smooths the edges of the tape down until Eddie is sure that his skin is going to combust with pure, aching want.

"There you go." Buck grins up at him, still crouched between his legs, something awful and awe-filled in his eyes. Eddie swallows and makes a show of inspecting Buck's work to avoid the heavy weight of Buck's gaze.

"Hm." Eddie twists his mouth into one of his Buck-and-Chris-named frog faces. "Should have had Chim do it instead."

"Excuse you!" Buck squawks indignantly. "I specialise in scratches!" Eddie looks up at him with a stuttering breath, tries to parse whether or not Buck realises what he just said and to whom he just said it. But Buck just scowls up at him, and that's when Eddie sees that goddamn fucking petal is still in his hair. "How'd you even do this anyway?"

"Here," Eddie says before he can think better of it, reaching forward with his bandaged hand, "you've got a little..." He plucks the petal from Buck's curls, fingers twitching to bury themselves there, and holds it out to Buck, so close he has to go cross-eyed to see it.

"Oh," Buck breathes as he takes it from Eddie, a bolt of lightning sparking where their fingers brush.

"You good, Eddie?" Bobby's voice breaks them from their moment, and Eddie jumps to his feet, shoving his litter into his pockets.

"All good, Cap. Nurse Buckley fixed me up." Eddie nudges Buck with the toe of his boot to avoid looking at the pink of his cheeks.

"Figured he would." Bobby's eyes dart between them, and Eddie flexes his hand to ground himself in the flare of pain.

Its nothing.

#sami rambles #sooo fuck internship applications i guess #i'd like to dedicate this one to elke thanks for spiralling with me yesterday i love our delusions <3 #if ur wondering this is inspired by the new eddie still where his hands are cut off (hmmm?) and i swear buck is in the reflection #and then ofc the aisha live where eddie had a bandaged hand #911 show #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #911 spec #911 spec fic #911 speculation #911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #buck x eddie fic #911 spoilers #buddie ficlet #911 ficlet

[omgauplease]

Feeling down? The fantastic works from our Day 5 creators are just what the doctor ordered!

What You Will - Rated T - 8,251 words

Featuring: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Summary: TWELFTH NIGHT OR, WHAT YOU WILL SAMWELL UNIVERSITY Director: Jack Zimmermann Stage Manager: Denice Ford

Audition Information

Date: Thursday, August 31, 2014 Time: 2pm - 6pm Where: Room 217 of Theater Building

Please bring a headshot and resume, as well as any known conflicts with weekdays 6pm - 10pm and Saturdays 12pm - 6pm from Monday, September 4, 2014 - Sunday, October 6, 2014.

Prepare two contrasting monologues, one of which must be comedic.

The casting for Viola/Cesario is gender-blind.

Callbacks will be posted no later than Friday, September 1, 2014 on the callboard.

.💊💊💊.

Won't Eat Crow (But It Might Eat You) - Rated T - 6,792 words

Featuring: William "Dex" Poindexter, Denice "Foxtrot" Ford, Tony "Tango" Tangredi

Summary: There was a woman covered in blood standing at the front of the room.

The sight of her was intense. It was grotesque. It was dramatic.

It was distracting Dex from his biology quiz.

For the Prompt: Where Dex is being pursued by an Irish deity very interested in working with him - either Brigid or the Morrigan off the top of my head, but I'm sure there may be others that are a good fit.

.💊💊💊.

nobody knows the trouble i've seen (glory, hallelujah) - Rated G - 5,468 words

Featuring: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann, Eric "Bitty" Bittle & Jack Zimmermann

Summary: Where the red string of fate is something more like a noose, somehow they still find each other.

{A Southern Gothic AU where Jack died back in 2009 and Bitty can see ghosts - under narrow circumstances.}

.💊💊💊.

the whole world is all yours tonight - Rated T - 2,928 words

Featuring: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter

Summary: Will would not describe the vibe backstage as chill, despite Derek’s numerous claims to the contrary.

Or, The Frogs are a boy band and it's opening night of their first national tour.

.💊💊💊.

[Podfic] Special Delivery - Rated T

Featuring: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Summary: Mailman Jack Zimmermann is used to attention from the little kids on his postal route. Being asked to attend a Mailman Jack-themed birthday party, well, that's a first.

Inspired by this Shitty Check, Please AU prompt: "jack is bitty’s mailman and bitty’s 6 yr old is in love with jack and always wants to greet him when he delivers the mail. recently divorced bitty has to pry his daughter away most days, even tho he himself feels the same."

Podfic of Special Delivery by RabbitRunnah.

.💊💊💊.

A reminder to all creators whose works are revealed today to please update your publication date to today so that your works are shown at the top of the feed on AO3.

Please also remember to show love through kudos and comments to our creators when you enjoy their work! ❤️

#omg check please #omgcheckplease #omgcp #check please #omgauplease #day 5 reveals #check please fanfic #check please fic #check please podfic

[classpect-crew]

Space, Mind, and Void: Getting to Know Your Neighbors

Let's talk more about Space for a moment. (Can you tell I'm a little fixated on this Aspect right now?) Space is not just the Aspect of creation, visual arts, and literal space. It's also represented by the classical element of Water. (There are people out there who will tell you that Space is actually Earth, and Blood is Water. These people are wrong.) Space is "concerned with the big picture," sure, but what does that really mean? Strap in, because we're going to get a little bit ~conceptual.~ This Aspect is vast, essentially containing everything that is.

If we look at its neighbors, Mind and Void, we can understand Space as their intersection. The universe is not a "conscious" entity in a way we as humans can relate to. After all, it is a frog. If you take the instinct of self-propagation and expand it out into a literal universe-sized organism, its methods of attaining that feat would look a lot like conscious choices from someone on our level of complexity, wouldn't they? Ask yourself this: does a person consciously tell their bodies to produce new cells? What about the reproductive cells responsible for new life? There are forces within the universe that have their own desires—and the players themselves are invaluable, as their cooperation and success provide the only way that a universe can propagate—but the Genesis Frog simply is.

The Genesis Frog "contains every single instance of the universe that is within him," which naturally includes every choice one could make. Unlike Mind, however, Space itself is largely unconcerned with causality. It is merely the stage upon which the play is set. So, Space and Mind aren't the same thing. Why, then, are they neighbors? Put simply, the domain of Mind is not restricted to the choices one makes. Mind is what allows us to conceive. It's what allows me to find patterns and relationships in Homestuck's cosmology and Classpect system, just as it allows you to come up with your own interpretations of the same. Concepts, ideas, philosophies—these belong to Mind. The intersection of Space and Mind is, quite literally, the galaxy brain meme. Space provides the backdrop, but Mind invites you to imagine, to engage with possibilities as limitless as the universe itself. Mind brings you to a million crossroads and asks one simple question:

What will you do?

Let's take a look at our neighbor on the other side: Void. This Aspect is also characterized by its breadth. Much like a dark and impenetrable ocean, those who flirt with the Void without a proper appreciation for its nature may find themselves sinking helplessly below the surface. A Hero of Space may have difficulty teasing out their purpose in the game, chewing on the grand mythology their Land offers them free of charge. Nevertheless, the writing is often already on the wall. A Hero of Void, however, will find that their purpose has been translated through dozens of foreign tongues, with plenty of key information lost to time—or purposefully redacted. The result is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma, pocked with uncertainty and doubt. Whereas Mind encourages its players to parse through a vast array of known options to find a way forward, Void demands that its players conceive the inconceivable, creating something from nothing through methods best described as arcane.

There are two kinds of people in this world.

1. Those who can extrapolate from incomplete data

Space and Void both share a profound connection to Water, and they both possess a certain vastness that can only be truly understood through experience. These are both true of Mind as well, though Mind's connection to Water is much more abstract. (Appropriate, considering Mind sits above the Aspect Wheel's horizon, in the World of Ideas, while Void sits below, in the World of Matter.) Yet, they all deal with a theme I've mentioned several times now: conception. Birth. The new replacing the old. Space and Void both conjure up a sense of creation that's almost miraculous in nature. To create a whole universe, even for the most powerful Space player, is still incredibly impressive. To create something from nothing—whether that "something" is a physical object, an idea, or a secret third thing—is no less astonishing. A Mind player can synthesize information, make inferences based on what they know, and use that understanding to chart causality. All of this, however, requires prior information to work from. A Void player is capable of seeing the unseen, understanding what cannot be understood, and acting based upon that. They flirt with paradox and fuck the ineffable. Our familiar celestial bodies are the source of much inspiration, and we pay homage to them in so much of our art. Yet, like silence to a song, Space is defined not just by the stars themselves, but by the void between stars, and it is in these dark waters that Space and Void become one.

Come, friends. Let us bask in the now, in what is. Let what must be remain in the fiery bosom of Time. Breathe, and feel the universe breathe with you. Allow your conception of yourself, of your planet, of each cell in your body to shrink as you inhale, to expand as you exhale, until the microcosm and the macrocosm are utterly in sync. Visualize every physical and conceptual boundary you can think of, and allow them to dissolve. Do the same with those you can't. Allow me to ask you one simple question:

Have you ever rotated a tesseract in your mind?

#classpect analysis #homestuck #space #void #mind #space aspect #void aspect #mind aspect #classpect #classpect meta

[vulpes-fennec]

Love on Water Lilies 🪷 (Ch 3)

Summary: Prince Lucien Vanserra of the Autumn Kingdom is all play, no work. Elain Archeron, a waitress and aspiring restaurant owner in the city of Colibri, is all work, no play. Caught in a larger scheme of politics and war, Lucien and Elain are turned into frogs. Will Elain get her restaurant back? Will Lucien ever become Fae again?

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Elain’s stomach was gurgling, but she’d sooner work another brunch shift at Roy’s Cafe than admit she was hungry first. She’d been watching Lucien steer their raft for the last half hour, waiting for him to call for a break. Yet the prince showed no signs of stopping for lunch. 

Lucien stood on his hind legs, which were long and muscled, just like the legs of his Fae form. His thighs flexed every time he bent slightly at the knee, his upper body pushing the stick into the water with strong, fluid motions. Even as a frog, Lucien was handsome: his skin a vibrant mint green and his underbelly a tan brown. The color green suited him, and so did the thick olive stripe that ran down the center of his sturdy back, framed by ridges of raised skin. 

Though her animosity towards him had abated slightly after his apology, Elain still felt peeved that Lucien refused to give her the riverfront pavilion until the curse was broken. The matching gold band tattooed onto her arm was a constant reminder of her dues. Bargain-bound to a prince of Autumn who inconveniently held all the cards in his palm was the last thing Elain wanted to deal with. And now she was feeling extra cranky thanks to hunger. 

Lucien abruptly stopped the raft. 

“Why’d you stop?” Elain scanned the slow-moving waters ahead for predators. Though Lucien possessed fire powers, she wasn’t keen on seeing how they’d fare in a watery environment. 

“It’s lunchtime.” Lucien pointed at the swarm of gnats buzzing over the water.

“No,” Elain gasped, horrified. The bzzt-bzzt sound from the cloud was more noticeable now, likely due to her frog form’s hunting instincts. Utterly disgusting. 

“Food is food, princess.” Lucien shrugged carelessly. “A frog’s gotta eat.”

“I am not going to eat a bug!” she cried, even though her stomach made a loud protest just at that moment. But Lucien wasn’t listening to her. He set the oar down and positioned himself on all fours, eyes focused on the gnats with predatory interest. 

A long, magenta pink tongue darted out between his lips experimentally, the tip of it sticky and slick under the hot morning sun. Elain was held hostage by a fascinated revulsion as Lucien’s tongue shot into the cloud of bugs. It subsequently recoiled back into his mouth with such force that he fell off the boat. Splash!

Elain couldn’t help but giggle. 

“This is harder than it looks.” Lucien was rather good-natured as he swam back to the raft. 

Elain instinctively held an arm out for him, realizing only when Lucien’s slimy hand gripped hers that she had helped him up the raft. He’s not your friend, she reminded herself, acutely aware of how his webbed fingers slotted against hers. He took everything away from you, remember? Unaware of Elain’s inner turmoil, Lucien tried again. The prince managed to roll his tongue back into his mouth without falling off the raft, but still failed to catch any bugs. 

“I assure you, my tongue is normally far more skilled than this.” Lucien shot Elain a cocky grin when he caught her staring. He puffed his vocal sac, announcing himself to his lunch with a loud ribbet.

“You are disgusting,” Elain rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to hear about what your tongue can do.” Lucien tried again, and this time, a speckle of a gnat came zinging back at him. Elain wore a scrunched-up look of disgust on her face when the gnat disappeared into his mouth. 

“A little tangy. Not very filling,” Lucien mused, looking up quizzically as he parsed out the subtle flavors of gnat. “But you might as well give it a try.” 

“No, thank you,” Elain said primly, crossing her legs delicately from where she sat. Lucien went back to aiming his tongue into the gnat cloud, each attempt more successful than the last. His russet and gold eyes gleamed with challenge and victory, his energy picking up with each successful catch. The prince seemed to be enjoying himself, at least.

“I’m quite surprised a prince like you would eat insects.” Elain made a little raspberry blegh sound when Lucien caught three gnats in one go. 

“Why not? The best part about traveling is trying new things. When else will I eat bugs, if not in frog form?” 

��You could just resolve to never eat bugs,” Elain offered. A gnat! How unfulfilling. She longed for a warm plate of biscuits, chicken with a generous dusting of spices, and well-seasoned greens. Not paltry insects!

Lucien smacked his lips, and peered at something behind Elain’s shoulder. “There’s a fat dragonfly right behind you. Move a little to the left, won’t you?”

Elain let out a terrified cry and covered her eyes. 

“I don’t want to see you eat it,” she shrieked, covering her eyes. Dragonflies were significantly larger to her when she was a small frog, and as big as Lucien’s mouth was, she was quite sure it wouldn’t fit. The notion of seeing half of a dragonfly tail hanging out of his mouth sent shudders of revulsion through her body. 

Lucien burst into pealing laughter. 

“I was only joking, Elain,” he chuckled, slapping his thigh. “You should’ve seen your face when I said that…you’re probably the first frog to be repulsed by a dragonfly.” Elain scowled at the amusement dancing in Lucien’s eyes. 

“I don’t see why we have to eat bugs just because we are frogs,” she grumbled. “Surely there are more things available in the bayou.” 

“Frogs are supposed to eat bugs. You’re the spoiled one,” Lucien teased. “Miss froggy here cannot deign to eat a couple insects, and yet she calls herself a chef. Do her refined tastes only accept the cream of the crop, fresh berries and fish?” 

Elain glared at the prince, feeling her face heat with embarrassment. Lucien was unfortunately right about several things, but she didn’t want to admit it. The crooked, wide smirk on his mottled green face was truly infuriating. 

“If you’re done eating, stop talking and start rowing. Or else I’m going to push you off the raft.” 

—

At some point in the afternoon, Elain had taken up rowing. The shorter length of the stick forced her to keep to shallow waters, which was fine by her. Who knew what kind of creatures lurked in the depths? Alligators, massive fish, snakes, wraiths, and pixies would be eager to nab two frogs as an afternoon snack. She missed the safety that came with being High Fae. Although High Fae weren’t at the top of the food chain, it was still better than being a vulnerable little frog in a big swamp. 

The sky had turned overcast, depriving her of the sun’s path. Swampy waters stretched as far as her eyes could see. The shadowy depths seemed to hold secrets, the still surfaces a warning to those who dared to disturb them. Small deltas rose up, interspersed with mangrove and bushy hedges. 

Meanwhile, Lucien was chilling on his back, hands tucked behind his head and humming softly under his breath. The prince could hold a tune, Elain begrudgingly admitted, and the lilting melody was hauntingly beautiful.

“What song is that?” she asked, when he finished. Lucien lazily opened his eyes, one russet, the other gold.

“An Autumn folk song,” Lucien replied. “My mother used to sing it to me before bed.”

“It’s nice,” Elain offered awkwardly. Queen Daphne Vanserra must have loved her sons very much, if she tucked them into bed instead of leaving the task to palace servants. Mama never did such a thing for us… 

“That’s unfortunate,” Lucien said. “How long ago…?”

“Sorry?” 

“Your mother is no longer alive, right?” Lucien leaned back onto his elbows, eyeing her acutely. 

“Yes…how did you know?” 

“You’re very easy to read,” was all Lucien responded with. Elain frowned, unsure of what to make of his statement. Why does he want to know?

“It was twelve years ago,” Elain decided to say. “I was eleven years old.” 

“And your relationship with her?” 

“I thought you said I was very easy to read,” Elain replied, her words slightly clipped. Females are very easy to read, was probably what Lucien had wanted to say. The frog prince quirked his lips. 

“Some things I don’t know, Elain.” 

Elain pushed the raft along, trying to form the right words. “I don’t miss her that much. She was…an absent parent,” she responded after a while. Lucien only nodded, his expression devoid of the pity that strangers typically showed her. 

“So you’re twenty-three years old?” Lucien mused. “So serious, for a lady so young.” 

“Well, how old are you?” Elain countered. If her knowledge of Prythian courts remained intact after many years out of school, Lucien couldn’t be older than forty. The Autumn Queen was slightly younger than her father, and had birthed the Autumn princes decades apart instead of the quick succession of the Archeron siblings. 

“Guess.” Lucien smirked. 

“Two hundred,” Elain smiled, hoping to wipe that smug expression off his face. “At least.”

Lucien exhaled loudly, shaking his head. “Shit, Elain, I’m not that old. I’m only twenty-nine.” 

Elain sniffed, turning back around. “Somehow, that makes sense, given your party boy lifestyle.” She knew Lucien’s bulging eyes rolling at her absurd remark, but he did not respond, probably because he knew she was right.

She continued to paddle, trying to follow the subtle current downstream. The Bog of Oorid was like a giant, slow-moving river that flowed towards the sea at a snail’s pace. The hot summer air was oppressively muggy, even from a frog’s perspective. And the slime—mucus—on her webbed hands made her grip slick. 

Breathe, Elain, breathe, she told herself. It was like a sodden towel had been wrapped around her face, her shoulders, her legs. The humidity weighed down on her every movement. Dip, stroke, lift. Dip, stroke, lift. 

It was getting harder to see—when did the mist roll in? Elain blinked rapidly, trying to refocus her rapidly deteriorating vision. But it was futile. Breathe, Elain, breathe. A light-headed sensation began to prickle the edges of her consciousness, sending panic coursing through her veins. What’s happening?

The bayou was gone.

Elain only had time to stutter a faint “L-l-lucien?” before she felt herself falling backwards. 

Shadows, howling and shrieking, slipped off a wooden dock. The muddy waters were tinged black as they moved, like ink spilled from a pot, swirling around stones and under tree roots. 

Lucien, still in frog form, being pulled under the water. His green hand, straining for the skies, disappearing under the rippling surface. Was she…was she crying? She was certainly screaming. The prince wasn’t going down without a fight, from the way the dark water churned and splashed, but—

“Wake up! Elain, wake up!” The commanding baritone of a male voice called from somewhere far away. “Wake! Up!” 

Elain gasped upon feeling water hit her face. 

She was flat on her back, something hard underneath her. A cloudy sky swirled above, but everything seemed piercingly bright. Elain blinked. Mismatched, bulging eyes stared down at her, and the massive green mouth—a tad too close to her face—was pursed in a frown. Why is there a frog leaning over me?

Oh, right. Lucien is a frog. 

And he was holding a clam shell filled with water, poised to throw it on her face again.

“Enough!” Elain sputtered, trying to sit up, but it was too late. She received a mouthful of brackish water. “Stop!” 

“Cauldron, Elain,” Lucien said, sitting back on his heels without a shred of remorse for the last throw. “Are you alright?” He made a throaty sound akin to a tsk-tsk and shook his head. “This is what you get for not eating the gnats. You don’t keep your energy up, and you end up fainting while on paddling duty.” 

“I’m fine,” Elain mumbled, trying to ground herself in her surroundings. She rubbed her face with a sticky webbed hand. Lucien is a frog. I am also a frog. The raft listed gentling under her, bobbing on smooth waters. The smells of humidity, vegetation, and fish. I’m in a bayou…I have a slimy green body, a long tongue… 

“You keep your little head down,” Lucien continued to chatter away, rambling about energy deficits and amphibian diets. He had grasped the stick and begun pushing them to a large island, its beaches silty and edged with mangroves. “...can’t travel any further with a fainting frogette, can we?”

“I’ll be fine,” Elain groaned again, though she did not feel fine at all. Was that a hallucination, or some sort of premonition? I don’t have any magic, unless I’m counting the “green thumb” Nesta and Feyre claim I possess. It couldn’t be magic…most Fae children come into their powers by the age of thirteen.  

“Nonsense. Come on, let’s get onto dry land. Or do I need to carry you to shore too?” Lucien had tied their raft to a curling mangrove root, having steered them into a particularly cozy alcove. A couple hops away from them was a flat expanse of rock, shielded from the elements by two mossy logs leaning against each other. Elain supposed that would be home, sweet home for the night.

“I’m not a damsel in distress,” Elain muttered. But her legs wobbled unsteadily when she stood up, forcing her to hold her arms out for balance.

“Alright, suit yourself, princess,” Lucien said, but his hand still hovered near elbow as she tottered to the raft’s edge. Elain managed to hop onto the mangrove root without falling into the water, well aware that Lucien was close behind. She crawled along the smooth root, clutching the sides as she moseyed onto dry land. 

The shore’s cool stone was a relief against her too-hot skin. Elain curled on her side with a huff, trying to ignore the stomach pangs that were stabbing her insides every few seconds. She was so, so tired. Of course I am tired, she rationalized, feeling a bit better after admitting that. Too often Elain was trying to convince herself otherwise so she could rally for the next shift of work. Lucien was no help in the morning, snoring away as I struggled to lash the raft together. I spent half the day rowing. I haven’t eaten anything since last night. But maybe a quick nap will stave off hunger until we reach sweet, sweet civilization again…

Elain’s eyes flew open at the sound of wet smacking against stone. Mere inches away from her a minnow was flopping back and forth, gasping for air. As High Fae, the minnow would have been no larger than the length of Elain’s finger. But as a frog, they were as massive as river carp. 

She sat up, blinking groggily. She must have dozed off, for twilight had fallen and a small fire was crackling merrily over a bundle of sticks. Elain’s gaze drifted about, finding Lucien standing on his hind legs in shallow waters. The frog prince was watching something very closely, and his long legs, bent slightly at the knees, were tense as he leaned forward. 

Faster than Elain could comprehend, the prince snatched a minnow from the water using only his webbed hands. Lucien threw it onto the rock, leaving it to writhe and flop with the other minnow as he swooped down and caught another minnow. 

“How did you do that?” Elain asked in amazement when Lucien walked back towards her, dragging the four minnows by the tail. She had never seen a High Fae catch fish with their bare hands. Seeing a frog catch fish was equally fascinating. Lucien sat by the fire and proceeded to use a jagged bit of rock to clean the fish.  

“I spent a lot of time exploring Autumn’s woods,” Lucien said, flashing her a wide grin. “Catching fish is an essential survival skill all younglings learn.”

“I suppose cleaning it would be easier with a real knife,” Elain mused, inching closer to watch Lucien scrape the scales off, saw off the heads, and remove the bones and guts. Crouching on all fours was oddly comfortable, with her long legs neatly tucked against her belly. She tried not to think about how frog-like she had become in less than 24 hours. 

“It’s about the artist, not the tools,” Lucien remarked, twirling the rock shard expertly between his fingers. He fitted the filet onto a sharpened stick and turned it slowly over the fire, ensuring the filet was cooked evenly without charring.

“Sounds like something my sister would say,” Elain murmured. Lucien looked up, his expression one of interest. 

“You have a sister?” 

“Two,” Elain elaborated after a slight hesitation. Who was she to be opening up to an Autumn prince, who had taken everything from her? “Feyre, she’s younger by two years. She’s an artist. And I have an older sister…Nesta.” 

“Enjoy, princess.” Lucien handed Elain the stick with steaming hot fish. Elain blew delicately, before nibbling at the edge. Without a full set of teeth, she could only use the hard rim of her mouth and her tongue to “bite” the filet. 

The minnow was insanely fresh, and tasted lean and fishy, just like a trout. Just about the tastiest thing Elain had eaten in a long time, or maybe she was just hungry. Elain scarfed it down, the heat singeing her tongue. 

Her belly finally stopped aching, her spirits were lifted.

“Not bad for a spoiled rich prince,” she said to Lucien. “Thank you.” 

“See? I can be nice.” Lucien was already roasting the next filet. “By the way, I have three older brothers.”

“I know.” 

“Quite the fan, are you?” Lucien teased. 

“Don’t be so full of yourself, Lucien,” Elain retorted. 

“Cauldron, I’m only trying to be conversational,” Lucien sighed, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “This is your chance to ask a real prince questions, yet you don’t want to know anything?” Elain glanced at the frog prince, casually sitting on a toadstool and roasting fish like he was any regular male going camping. His self-sufficiency had exceeded her expectations—not that they were high to begin with. 

“Well if you’re opening yourself up to questions, who’s going to be the next Autumn King?” Elain asked. For each kingdom’s ruler was determined by power, not by line of succession. The heir often displayed tell-tale signs from an early age, marking of power that indicated the land’s choice as steward.

“Eris,” Lucien replied, a little too quickly. Elain’s eyes focused on his webbed foot, tapping against the stone subtly. The prince wasn’t being truthful. “Hmmm this fish smells a little plain. If only there was a rosemary bush, or a basil plant nearby,” Lucien said, trying to change the subject. 

“Is he?” Elain pressed on. “What are your plans within the court, then?” 

Lucien shrugged, handing her another stick with freshly cooked fish. “I don’t really have any plans. I’d be happy to just coast my way through life, enjoying what it has to offer.” Elain took the fish, but frowned. “What?”

“What?”

“You seem displeased,” Lucien pointed out. 

She was. Of course Lucien had the sort of lifestyle that enabled him to drink Fae wine and party with courtiers until daybreak. Meanwhile, she had to juggle multiple jobs ever since she was sixteen. Such was the difference in their station, yet the two of them were sitting inches away, sharing a meal. It was hard not to feel a bit resentful with the prince’s cavalier attitude towards his future. 

“I’m not,” Elain lied, opting to take a bite of fish so she had an excuse not to talk. “If you could change one impression people have of you, what would it be?” 

“People assuming I’m a spoiled, rich, party prince.” Lucien’s mouth quirked up.

“Well, now you’re just making fun of me,” Elain scowled. 

“I haven’t been to a party in nearly two days, Elain. I think it’s ample proof I can survive without one.” Lucien gestured at the wilderness around them. “It is exhausting when people only associate with me because of my rank and wealth. What about you?” 

Elain blinked, unsure of what to say. I wish they saw just beyond my looks, she wanted to say. A pretty face certainly helped with tips. Countless males, many of them rich, had tried to court her. And while Elain had considered marrying them to lift her family out of poverty, her suitors never cared about her interests nor her dreams. She would be marrying a cardboard cutout, destined for a loveless eternity. Would that make her selfish? To value her own happiness over her family’s livlihood?

But if she vocalized her true thoughts, Lucien would only consider her vain. And maybe he’d even laugh, if he didn’t think she was particularly attractive. So Elain changed the subject.

“That’s what happened to me.” Lucien cocked his stout head to the side, curious. “People associating with me because of my social status. We used to live in a nice house, with servants and gardens and parties almost every day. But when my father lost his leg in the war, he stopped working. We fell into poverty, and realized that many of our old ‘friends’ did not actually care about us.” Elain’s voice hardened with bitterness. 

“Vassa was the only friend I had left. She didn’t care that I was poor, or that our reputation was abysmal.” 

“True friends are important,” Lucien responded. “You haven’t met him yet, but my best friend is Jurian. You’d probably like him, he’s the responsible one. In some ways.” Lucien gave her a wry smile.

They sat in silence as they polished off the rest of Lucien’s fish. He didn’t touch on the rest of her story about her father, and Elain couldn’t tell if he pitied her, or if he simply didn’t care. 

The darkness enveloping them suddenly made Elain claustrophobic. What kinds of creatures had set their eyes on them, waiting for the ripe moment to pounce? What foreign sounds were concealed by night’s mystery? If she ever made it back to Colibri, she would never take working the evening shift for granted anymore. At least restaurants were warm and bright at night, and alive with chatter and cooking sounds. 

The thought of work made Elain yawn deeply. Fatigue from their hectic day settling over her, now that she had a belly full of food. She was ready to call it a night.

“What are you doing?” Lucien asked as Elain scooped up a clamshell full of water. 

“Putting out the fire?” she questioned uncertainly. “For safety?”

“I set up wards around us.” Lucien gestured to the skies, and Elain caught a faint glimmer of golden webbing, curving above them like a dome. A simple flick of his sticky fingers generated a filament of gold that joined the existing wards. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh. Alright.” Elain tossed the clamshell away. “Thank you.” 

Lucien’s fire lowered into a gentle, glowing flame; small enough for sleep, but steady enough to provide assurance in the oppressive gloom. Elain tucked herself against the mossy log, draping a large leaf over her body. 

The silver diamonds of stars shone more vibrantly, the night a jewelry box of constellations and galaxies. Elain spent a few moments scouring the skies before settling on a star that had a more golden glow. Perhaps this star would be a lucky one to cast her wishes. I wish I could make it home. I wish I could get my restaurant back. I wish I was no longer a frog. 

Crickets chirped, and water gently lapped the sandy shores. Elain glanced at Lucien, who lay on his back across from her, his hands interlaced over his round belly. The fire pulsated between them, illuminating his somber face. It seemed the prince was staring up at the night sky, wishing on stars, too. 

It was like looking at a mirror. He did help me when I had my…episode. And he also cooked me dinner…I suppose I should be a bit more gracious towards him, Elain reflected. Though the words were stuck in her throat, Elain managed to eek out a “good night, Lucien.” 

“Good night, Elain,” the prince replied. 

***Lucien***

“And see here…we have a water chestnut,” Elain said, pointing to a cluster of straight, green reeds as they drifted by. “Water chestnuts grow in the mud, and we add them to salads and meat dishes. Oh, and this is the highbush blueberry. In my opinion, they taste better than regular blueberries.” 

Lucien timed the flick of his tongue carefully, snagging one of the dusky blue fruits that hung from the bush as they passed underneath it. 

“They’re sweeter,” he said, with surprise. “The skin is also more delicate. I’d imagine they would bake nicely in a cobbler with fresh cream.” 

“That sounds delicious,” Elain sighed. “Oh look, the saltgrass. We must be going in the right direction, if the water is becoming saltier.” She gestured to the thick rows of light green grass stalks that edged the shoreline. Saltgrass looked like any other marsh plant to Lucien, but somehow, Elain could tell the difference. “We often grind it up as seasoning…it’s a bit sour and it goes well in dressings.”  

Elain had noticeably perked up when she began talking about the bayou’s vegetation. It had all been prompted with a simple question: Lucien asking what the pink flower was (a swamp rose) and whether it was edible (it was). 

She navigated their little raft between lily pads and around fallen logs, narrating like a tour guide as they went. Her large brown eyes sparkled like marbles, her pale green skin glossy under the sunlight. Even the way Elain opened her wide mouth to chatter and the way her entire body turned left-right, left-right, was…kind of cute, Lucien thought. 

Cute? A frog? There was no doubt that Elain as High Fae was the most beautiful female Lucien had ever seen…but as a frog? Mother’s tits, what am I thinking? 

“You sure know your plants very well,” Lucien said distractedly, running a green hand carelessly across the stalks as they passed.  

“Ah…well, the garden was my favorite place,” Elain admitted. Her bright expression dampened a bit, and Lucien could feel his brows lifting with concern. Was…he noted the particular wording she used. The garden she had before they lost everything. “I would spend hours there, laying under the ferns and draping moss, reading books and—” she stopped abruptly, as if realizing she was sharing too much.

“Say it,” Lucien pressed, wanting to hear more. He had a feeling he was smiling, for some strange reason.

“No, you’ll tease me.”

“Now you’ve got me interested,” Lucien chuckled. “Come on. I promise I won’t.” 

“Fine,” Elain huffed lightheartedly. “I would pretend I was a squirrel, gathering nuts and fruits and flowers for a hibernation party. We don’t have many squirrels in Summer, it’s too hot for them here.”

Lucien could see it now, a younger version of Elain in her Fae form, with chubby cheeks and honey-brown ringlets tied back with ribbons, crawling under lush canopies and carefully arranging an assortment of tropical fruits and flowers.

Gods, she must have been adorable. 

His heart clenched. Not only had he been seized by a sudden interest in her life, he was now fawning over what her childhood self must have been like! Lucien shook his head, driving the thoughts away. He was not one to be caught up in the intricacies of a female’s life, no matter how beautiful she was. And he intended to keep it that way. 

“Seems like normal youngling behavior to me,” Lucien responded nonchalantly. “If you come to Autumn, you’ll see plenty of squirrels. Fat brown ones, with bushy tails and beady little eyes.”

“Beady little eyes!” Elain seemed to take offense, placing her webbed hand over her sandy brown chest.

“Oh, they can be aggressive little critters,” Lucien smiled. “One of them bit my finger when I was young. It definitely left a scar.” He held up his left hand and wiggled the froggy appendages. 

Elain leaned in, inspecting his hand closely. Close enough for him to catalog the shape of the dark green speckles on her body, the shimmer of her amphibian green skin. Lucien’s breath stopped a little when Elain looked up, her large brown eyes sweet as toffee pudding in the sunlight.

“I don’t see any scar,” she frowned. An odd pang of dismay twinged in Lucien’s chest when Elain moved away to continue rowing. For once, he didn’t have any witty remarks to offer. “What is the Autumn Kingdom like?” she asked, continuing the conversation.

Lucien’s first thought was bleak: a conniving court, with nonsensical adherence to outdated ideas, and Beron’s red-hot anger. His father’s mood swings were temperamental storms: Beron moved between dour coldness and raging inferno. Lucien’s time in the Forest House was spent between seeking refuge in the library and placating his father’s whims. 

Would it be terrible for me to open up about how much I hate Autumn?

But Elain’s bright expression…no, he couldn’t douse that optimism. 

“It’s a beautiful place,” was what Lucien said instead. “The trees of the forests produce red, orange, and yellow leaves. A vibrant sea of living flame.” Lucien summoned a bit of fire in his palm for dramatic effect. 

“Our valleys are fertile, our farmlands in a perpetual state of harvest.” He inclined his head towards Elain. “Similar to the fields of Summer. Dryden—our capital city—is in the heart of our largest forest. But instead of clearing trees, my ancestors integrated themselves into the existing ecosystem. Our citizens live and work within an interconnecting network of trees and stones, not unlike the squirrels you pretended to be.”

Elain giggled at Lucien’s jest, the tinkling sound of her laugh making Lucien smile instinctively. “I would like to go to Autumn someday, then,” she sighed, staring across the marsh. Lucien perked up. 

“Then come visit,” he offered. Come visit me, he wanted to say. “I’ll give you a special tour.” 

Elain rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you say that to every female, Lucien. But thank you for the offer.” Fuck, that was a rejection, isn’t it? Or maybe she’s being polite with her refusal? Lucien scrambled for a response. 

“I’m being entirely serious, princess.” Elain stared at him, slightly confused. Then she snorted.

“As if you could ever be serious while calling me princess,” she replied amusedly. Her gaze turned forlorn again. “Perhaps. If we ever become Fae again. And once I get my restaurant up and running smoothly.” 

Speaking of which, Lucien couldn’t wait to become Fae again. Life as a frog was precarious, he learned, even while armed with powers. He’d bragged that he’d gone two days without going to parties, but of course he was a bit salty that he was missing out on all the festivities. He could be indulging in rich Summer fare and dancing the night away at Mardi Gras parties. 

Perhaps if they switched back soon enough, he could take Elain to a Mardi Gras party. Show her a bit of fun, maybe even get to know her better.

There goes my imagination again. Stop being delusional, Lucien. Lucien averted his eyes from the female frog who was steadily rowing in front of him. 

Elain is just starting to warm up to me, and bringing her to a party would only confirm her worst impressions of me. Besides, I’m an ugly frog, covered in mucus and warts. If she wasn’t head over heels when I was High Fae, she sure as hell won’t be into me now. 

One minute Lucien was glancing down into the silty waters, resentfully staring at the foreign frog face that had become so familiar to him. The next minute, a dark wisp curled around his leg, almost in a lazy lover’s caress. And then the shadow turned corporeal, gripping his ankle like an iron clamp.

“Elain!” his voice gurgled as the shadow yanked him off the raft and into the water. 

“Lucien!” came her muffled shout. Down, down, down into the muddy river bed the shadow dragged him. Lucien fought, twisting and pulling and paddling and kicking, but to no avail. The fluid darkness towed him along, kicking up silt and knocking him against decaying logs. 

He could see Elain hopping rapidly from log to log up above, but she was losing steam. Gods, no. He was not going to die a watery death. 

Think fast, Lucien! Fire makes light, he rationalized, fire could drive away this darkness. Lucien tunneled into the depths of his magic, grasping for a kernel of power that would unleash hell upon these shadow creatures. But it was not boiling fire that exploded from him. 

It was light. 

Golden, ethereal light poured from Lucien’s webbed fingers like rays of the sun. The beam sliced the shadow being in half, dissolving it into black shreds. But another shadow creature headed his way, wrapping a tendril around Lucien’s waist with chilling cold. Lucien turned himself into a ball of fire this time, the entity leaping back as if it had been burned. Lucien twisted and aimed the golden light for what he presumed was the center of the mass, disintegrating the being within seconds. 

Lucien broke the surface, gasping for air in his tiny frog lungs. Only a second of respite was given, before another shadow creature slammed into him, dragging him down again. 

“Fuck off.” Precious bubbles of air escaped Lucien as he said it, but it was well worth the satisfaction as he carved a clean hole into the shadow entity with the light beaming from his hands. Lucien kicked for the sky, thighs and webbed feet making powerful strokes in the swamp. He didn’t doubt there were more predators down below eager to gobble frogs up, regardless of their light and fire capabilities. 

“Lucien!” Elain was still screaming his name. She was perched on a floating log, brown eyes shining with fear. “Over here!” 

Lucien almost wanted to laugh at Elain holding a stick like a sword, as if it could do anything against those vicious shadow monsters. Still, it warmed his heart that she tried. Lucien swam towards her as fast as he could, his kicking feet in sync with treading arms. 

“Are you alright?” Elain’s voice sounded on the verge of tears as she hauled him up onto the log, her silver-lined eyes scanning the area for any more of the shadows. 

“Are you crying?” 

“N-n-no,” she stammered, but a traitorous tear slipped out of the corner of her big brown eyes. She wiped it away hastily. “I cry because I’m stressed, not because I’m sad.”

“And here I was, beginning to think you’d truly cared for me.” 

“Are you alright?” Elain asked again. She rubbed his back, the slippery coolness of her skin comforting against the heat of the moment.

Lucien took a deep breath. Eris’s warrior training rang through his frazzled state, guiding him into drawing down his adrenaline and soothing the magic that was still roiling within him. His hands were no longer glowing, thank gods, but they still tingled with residual magic.

“Of course I am. Doesn’t my pretty face still look the same to you?” he asked, gathering himself enough to joke some more. 

“What the hell were those things?” 

“I don’t know.” Lucien scanned their surroundings, but thankfully there was no sign of the shadow creatures. It seemed that once they disintegrated, they stayed gone. “I don’t think there are any more.”

“You were…you looked like you were glowing underwater. Was that what drove them away?” 

“Yes.” Lucien’s expression shifted into seriousness as he faced Elain. He held out his closed fist. Elain leaned in, curious. Creating a light so bright—he’d never done it before and wasn’t sure if he could do it again. 

His hands were green and slimy, his fingers webbed and thick. But ethereal golden light remained when he opened his palm. The tiny droplet of light floated up, pulsating and glowing like Lucien had plucked it out of the sun itself. The light was precious, filling some part of his soul that Lucien didn’t realize he was missing. He swallowed the thickness in his throat, suddenly overcome with emotion. 

“Goodness,” Elain breathed. Her large, round eyes gazed unblinkingly at it, her wide mouth opened slightly with fascination. There was not a single trace of judgment on her face, only pure amazement. “This is beautiful, Lucien.” 

Something about the reverence in her voice when she said his name…Lucien’s heart skipped a beat. Fuck. 

“I suppose it’s a useful party trick,” Lucien said carelessly, closing his fist and folding the light away with it. Light. Who else in his family could create a light like this? He turned and began walking down the log, hoping to erase the image of Elain’s wondrous expression from his mind by focusing on his family history.

“Party trick?” Elain repeated, her tone indignant once again. She followed him towards land. “If so, I would like to see it again.”

“Later, later,” Lucien replied, waving his hand.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been in the throes of battle, nor the first time I’d been a target singled-out in an attack. But according to my knowledge of Prythian Fae and monsters, shadow creatures don’t exist on their own. They are a product of magic. 

The fact that he was first turned into a frog, and then singled out by the shadow creatures…something was hunting him. A chill ran down Lucien’s spine. 

Who could it possibly be? He could not think of any enemies in particular. He had traveled across Prythian for years, and never had an issue even while flaunting his status most ostentatiously. So…who?

“The shadow creatures destroyed the raft,” Elain said forlornly. 

“Then we make it back to civilization on foot,” Lucien declared. Elain forged ahead into the thick green vegetation, using the rowing stick to push the leafy plants out of the way. Determined little thing, Lucien observed amusedly as she marched with vigor. 

But if someone was trying to capture him by any means necessary, that meant Elain was in danger, too. The possibility of shadow creatures wrapping their tendrils around her limbs and dragging her into the watery depths made something primal within Lucien rear its head. 

He fisted his webbed palms, feeling his blood boil with each passing second. Elain was scared of the dark, Lucien suspected, and if those shadows enveloped her into a cocoon of darkness, he would…he would…

The large stick Elain was wielding swung a hair too close to Lucien’s head, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Watch it, princess.” Lucien poked her in the back. 

“I can handle a big stick,” Elain retorted. “Just stay out of my way.” She continued to thwack through the brush. 

“How exciting.” Lucien grinned, her careless banter shattering the knuckle clenching thoughts he had earlier. Elain silently made the gesture for go-fuck-yourself without looking back. Lucien rolled his eyes and chuckled.

***Elain***

“Let’s rest up for the night,” Lucien’s voice suggested after what seemed like hours of walking. Exhaustion wore into Elain’s very bones, for she had leaned on constant movement as a way to stave off her anxious thoughts. Lucien’s endless chattering, the plentiful questions he’d asked her about the plants they passed by had also helped, whether he was aware of it or not.

She had foreseen the exact incident this afternoon, and had no idea what to make of it. 

“Alright,” Elain agreed, plopping down on a toadstool. Walking on hind legs also made her lower back ache, but she didn’t want to give that up. Hopping around on all fours would be a commitment—an acceptance—of her existence as a frog. 

At that moment, her stomach made a loud whine. Elain clutched her belly in embarrassment, hoping Lucien didn’t hear it. 

“But first, dinner.” Lucien stepped to the side, waving his green arm with flourish. The prince revealed a large mangrove leaf, laden with all sorts of edible plant matter such as berries and soft greens. 

“How did you do that?” Elain’s mouth dropped open. 

“You were so busy with the big stick that you didn’t realize I was picking up food along the way, hmm?” Lucien chuckled, popping a berry into his mouth. Elain poked Lucien playfully in the stomach with the stick for his remark, which he dodged easily with a teasing grin.  

Elain looked at the leaf more closely, noticing an assortment of the plants that she had previously described to Lucien. The prince had been paying attention to her ramblings about swamp flora, she realized.   

“Thank you,” Elain dipped her head slightly. This was the second time Lucien had scrounged up something for her to eat, and it surprised her: she had assumed the prince would be complaining about their circumstances and expecting her to wait on his every need. Perhaps that was exactly who he was, and he was acting differently to get her good side. Whatever the real reason was, it didn’t hide the fact that she was secretly pleased.

“Anything for you, princess,” Lucien smirked as he casually tossed another berry into the air, catching it with a flick of his long, pink tongue.

The berries and soft aquatic weeds were easy to get down, but the more fibrous plants required more vigorous “chewing”. Elain felt like an animal, smacking loudly as her rigid palate attempted to break down the roots without the use of teeth. 

“Are you alright?” Elain asked again, realizing Lucien had gone oddly quiet. He had said he was fine before, but Elain could tell he wasn’t. The prince sat across from her, his normally smirking mouth serious and his mismatched eyes pensive. The pale scar that cut the left side of his wide, amphibian face looked stark in the twilight. 

It was a moment before Lucien spoke. “I was thinking…Briallyn turning me into a frog and the shadows today seem interconnected.” Elain had suspected that, but to hear Lucien vocalize those thoughts…it solidified just how dire their situation was.

“But Briallyn is just a student,” Elain thought aloud. “Sure, she’s almost a full-fledged witch, but surely there are more skilled practitioners who could do this dirty work.” 

“Not necessarily.” Lucien’s face was grim. “Dark magic of this kind has been explicitly outlawed since the Hybern War ended. Many of the practitioners were killed during the War. Briallyn might have a mentor outside of the Colibri Academy.” His expression was haunted, and Elain wondered if the prince had fought in any of the battles. He would have been in his early twenties, then, a young male eager to prove his skill on the battlefield. 

“You can’t think of anyone who would target you?” The fear that seized her entire being when Lucien was pulled down had been so profound, Elain felt herself tremble at its recollection. 

The roiling shadows, the dark waters…she hated it. And it was getting dark again. She clutched her bit of taro root, hoping Lucien’s protective wards would be enough to keep the shadows at bay.

“I can’t,” Lucien shook his head. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. It was actually…the first time. The first time I’ve been able to produce such light.”

“What do you mean?” Elain’s eyes widened. 

“I was trying to create fire,” Lucien explained. “But instead, light came out. And it’s completely new. I can’t think of any other family members who can do such a thing.” 

“I see.” Elain fidgeted with her green fingers, the mucus leeching from her pores making her hands feel extra sweaty. “I-I have something to say,” she forced out, the jitters making her voice shaky.

Lucien looked at her with a piercing interest. 

“Remember when I fainted?” Lucien nodded. “It wasn’t because I didn’t have enough to eat. I had a vision. Of what happened today. With you and the shadows. I saw what happened, before it happened. Do you get what I mean?” Talking about what happened was wading into foreign territory; Elain finished each phrase with an upturn that sounded like she was asking a question.

“A vision,” Lucien murmured thoughtfully. 

“It was my first time, too. I don’t have any powers. Well..I thought I didn’t, until today.” 

“Experiencing premonitions is a skill characteristic of Seers. You haven’t had any other visions?” Lucien’s tone was curious, with a hint of concern. Elain shook her head. “Interesting.”

“Do Seers manifest their powers later on in life?” Elain asked. 

“No, they follow the same path of maturation as all other Fae with powers.” Lucien scratched one of the olive ridges at the top of his head. “I suppose it is unusual for us to discover new powers like this, though.”

“Maybe being turned into frogs activated something?” Elain suggested. But Lucien didn’t look convinced. 

“A transformation curse doesn’t typically do that,” Lucien explained. “It changes victims physically, but everything else remains the same. There must be some deeper reason…I’ll have to think about it.”

Although it was obvious Lucien’s royal education would provide him a vast depth of knowledge about magic, the prince’s demeanor had morphed into that of a pondering scholar. It was a stark contrast to his joking, frivolous attitude from before. Elain snuck a glance at him, blinking as she saw Lucien in a different light. Who knew princes could be complex?

Splish, splish. A smattering of droplets plinking down onto Elain’s bare head heralded the distant boom of thunder. Rain began to fall as silver-white lightning slashed across the night sky. Abandoning his dinner, Lucien hopped towards a hosta sapling for shelter. Elain looked around but unfortunately, the only plant that provided leaves broad enough for coverage was the tiny hosta plant.

“Ah, princess,” Lucien greeted jovially, putting their somber conversation in the past when she peeked under. “Go find your own leaf.” The prince smirked widely and lowered his voice. “Unless, you care to join me here.”

The thunder boomed even louder, its vibrations making Elain’s bones rattle. The rain increased into a torrential downpour. She might be soaking wet already, but she wasn’t keen on spending the night in a puddle. Elain gritted her teeth, putting her pride aside as she asked, “may I join you?” Lucien smiled broadly at her question.

“Why, I thought you would never ask.” The prince scooched over just a smidge, leaving a little patch of dry dirt for Elain. She balked slightly, realizing how close they would be, before joining him. Both frogs tucked themselves in on all fours, and Elain wiggled an indentation in the soil to rest her weary little body.

It had been several months since she’d lain next to a male. It doesn’t count, Elain told herself as she pressed against Lucien’s firm body. He was like a solid wall, shielding her from the outside world. She felt…safe. And a bit girlishly giddy at the thought of being next to a prince. He may be a prince, but he’s also a frog. I’m not attracted to frogs.

“Good night, Elain.” She thought Lucien had gone to sleep, for his eyes had closed.

“Night, Lucien,” Elain murmured, her voice soft as she drifted off.

#elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #princess and the frog au #very much an action packed chapter #sorry for the delay everybody!

[taoofshigeru]

📞 a character others dislike but you don’t?

Ohh, spicy ask! Yum.

📞 a character others dislike but you don’t?

Good question! This one I had to dig through my head for a little bit to find an answer. (If I'm in a fandom actively enough to see people trashing on blorbos of mine it's generally a sign something's gone terribly wrong. I spend a lot of time trying to avoid discourse, mainly by spending the bulk of my reading time on increasingly obscure manga and talking about video games mostly within a circle of like, 5 irl friends whose judgement can be trusted.)

H'aanit the Hunter from Octopath Traveler gets a lot of guff for her speech patterns in the English localization, the Middle-English-but-not dialect that's a little tough to parse at times. I personally find it super-charming, and I find the script commits to making the dialogue consistent. Cindy Robinson, the voice actress, delivers it super-well, too. The irregular speech patterns didn't diminish my enjoyment of her story - if anything, it added a layer of enjoyment! Speech that differs in significant ways also just makes the game unique and more memorable, as well as helping the world feel bigger. I'm sorry you got so much hate, girl.

(And btw, I've recently been seeing a friend go through Chrono Trigger. Frog from that game has lots of similar Olde Tyme'eth dialogue and get multiple people's endorsement for best-written video game character, which makes me extra salty about the whole H'aanit thing.)

#octopath traveler #h'aanit

[nurseysbeanie]

Madison & More Bingo 🏖🏕🏝

Here are some of my fave (so far) fics and art from the @madisonandmore summer prompt challenge!

Well, the start of September makes it feel like summer is fading. But don't worry, fearless reader! These summery fanfics will make you feel the sun on your face, the sand under your feet, and the scent of fresh-cut grass on the breeze!

Unnameable Truth (M) @thefiveboxingwizards | vacation, less than 5000 words, one-shot

I liked that this was a less sunny/happy/vacation-y story about repression and self-discovery. The summer's not happy and carefree for everyone. But there is hope at the end of this one.

Wasteland Baby (M) @checkdeezpucks | AU, one-shot

This surprised me! Despite the premise sounding a bit incongruous with Check Please, this was a great read. Mad Max Tater/Parse was a longshot for me but you proved me wrong, op. Would definitely not be mad if we got another chapter or two of this 👀

Hot-lanta (G) @justlookfrightened | Zimbits, vacation, one-shot

I keep thinking about this one, and Bitty/Jack's meet-cute and Bitty rollerblading. And quiches. And Tater being wingman!

suddenly this summer it's clear (T) @dessertwaffles | favourite ship, a work that made me laugh, one-shot

I actually snorted out loud while reading this standing out on the sidewalk in a crowd of people while waiting for the streetcar. I have no shame. It's funny and cute, read it!

like an ice cream cone (T) @wrathofthestag | SHITTY KNIGHT!!, food or baking, one-shot

Shitty's backstory is important to me (!!!) and this was great. Discussion question: Is the origin of Shitty's porn-stache tied to the memory of a moustachioed ice cream vendor he idolizes from his youth? You tell me. It was hard to see tiny Shitty going through family problems but his au pair seems like the coolest!

amphibious creatures (T) HowOldAreWe | fave ship, mermaids, frogs 🐸 , multi-chapter

I don't generally go for mermaid AUs but this was juuuust lovely! The frogs are wonderful here, and I really liked the setup and follow-through. And I'm not going to say any more than that Chowder makes a great appearance here :)

Making My Head Spin (E) @justlookfrightened | summer camp, zimbits, multi-chapter

Turns out I like fics where Bitty makes a go of it for the NHL! Loved seeing Jack and Bitty letting down their guard and risking being hurt in this one. Super sweet and a little spicy at the end :) Nothing better than that.

Heard The Mermaids Singing (M) @checkdeezpucks | rarepair, mermaids, one-shot

This was another work that wasn't sun-drenched and happy. I loved to see the gritty, almost gothic setting; loved to see some CP femmeslash. Loved to see the teeth and the texture here. Short and... piquant.

The Way Way North (T) by @mcbangle | zimbits, SHITTY KNIGHT!!, vacation, the beach, work that made me smile, frogs, multi-chapter

I keep thinking about this one. Listen, Shitty Knight is... essential. He is the GLUE that holds together CP Year One for me, okay? I know that this fic is primarily about Bitty and his parents' relationship, and his crush on Jack, and that is all done deftly and wonderfully. But Shitty is the standout for me here. (Also I now need to see the movie this is based on.)

Eelgrass (T) by @perhapsajacket | fave ship, the beach, vacation, multi-chapter (pending)

Just a nice AU where Dex is ho-humming through his vacation until he chances upon the cute local bookshop owner (enter Nursey) who has fallen into a tidepool and needs a hand. What could be more adorable than that? I liked seeing some of Dex's family and backstory here. And I would live to see more 👀

Cowabunga (G) @zimbits-my-love | art, surfing, the beach

This is super cute art and I loved the colour scheme. I can so imagine Bitty and Jack surfing together on vacation!

This was a fun summer challenge, thanks to all the organizers! I will be updating my own work, Summer Gothic, soon with a new chapter. (Sorry, I write slow. 🐌)

#madison&more #omgcheckplease #omgcp #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic rec #recc

[sleights-of-hand]

Radiation fun fact melanin helps protect from radiation and it's effects! This can be seen in the tree frogs around the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone who used to be bright green and are now evolving to be much duller and darker some even being jet black!

That is a fun fact! I just parsed through the Medscape article on this … I knew melanin offers some protection against UV radiation but I wouldn’t have guessed that melanism would be beneficial to amphibians dealing with like . Ionizing radiation constantly from everywhere. Huh!

Thank you for sending this in. How animals and plants survive in the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone is one of my favorite things to read and think about. :)

#chernobyl zone of exclusion #i wonder if it doesn’t have something to do with being ampbians too since they absorb everything through their skin and are so sensitive #afaik melanism isn’t overly represented in mammals in the ZOE like wolves or dogs #at least I haven’t seen anything indicating that

[forestgreenlesbian]

hellooo top ten reads of 2022 in no particular order (+ not including rereads of old favourites):

Our Wives Under The Sea, Julia Armfield

Luckenbooth, Jenni Fagan        

Cantoras, Carolina De Robertis

A Tiny Upward Shove, Melissa Chadburn

Sea of Tranquility, Emily St. John Mandel

Time Is A Mother, Ocean Vuong

Light from Uncommon Stars, Ryka Aoki  

Marriage of a Thousand Lies, Sj Sindu

Who Will Run the Frog Hospital?, Lorrie Moore

Less Is Lost, Andrew Sean Greer    

special mentions:

Young Mungo, Douglas Stuart

In the Dream House, Carmen Maria Machado

A Certain Hunger, Chelsea G. Summers

Briefly, A Delicious Life, Nell Stevens

The Mercies, Kiran Millwood Hargrave

and some quotes from my top ten under the cut if you are looking for a little flavour. what did you guys read this year i am always looking for recommendations :~)

It’s not grief, [...] it’s more like a haunting. Our Wives Under The Sea

“Is it crazy to love someone you’ve only spent seven days with in person?” / “No, it’s crazy to love someone when you’ve known them for years.” Luckenbooth

It seemed, at times, that this was the only way the world would be remade as the heroes had dreamed: one woman holds another woman, and she in turn lifts the world. Cantoras

By then, Lola concluded that love was mostly wanting something you supposedly already had. A Tiny Upward Shove

She never dwelt on my lapses, and I couldn’t entirely parse why this made me feel so awful. There’s a low-level, specific pain in having to accept that putting up with you requires a certain generosity of spirit in your loved ones. Sea of Tranquility

Then it came to me, my life. I remembered my life / the way an ax handle, mid-swing, remembers the tree. / & I was free. Time Is A Mother

“That’s--” / “A violin from China,” she said without looking up. “Yes, I know.” / “No, I mean, it’s all in pieces.” / “Yes. So are we all.” Light from Uncommon Stars

There’s always a way out. You could be a ghost. I could be an empty chair. Marriage of a Thousand Lies

Everything would turn out fine. Or else--hell--it would burn. I only wanted my body to bloom and bleed and be loved. I was raw with want, but in part it was a simple want, one made for easy satisfaction, quick drama, deep life: I wanted to go places and do things with Sils. So what if the house burned down. Who Will Run the Frog Hospital?

“Thomas, why are you wearing a sweater when it’s so warm out?” / Thomas shrugs slightly and says, “As my grandma Cookie says, we’re all having different experiences.” Less Is Lost

also my bottom five if you care these are bad do not reccommend lol (not including dnfs):

Mexican Gothic, Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Under the Whispering Door, TJ Klune

The Midnight Library, Matt Haig

This Is How You Lose the Time War, Max Gladstone & Amal El-Mohtar

A Room Called Earth, Madeleine Ryan

#me reading all the quotes i highlighted: ha ha everything really is about love... #anyway reply or tag me whatever i am interested :-)

[dhaaruni]

I unofficially consulted on this piece about P*yton B*achdeath, who has moved on from terrorizing Tumblr and now terrorizes the New York Times.

I like Kat Rosenfield a lot, and this part in particular stood out to me:

Meanwhile, in 2023, there are few young adults who don’t have a discoverable digital footprint dating back to their teens, the content of which should not be held against them, no matter how embarrassing or unsophisticated it might be. Those of us who came of age before the social web may thank the stars that our most cringeworthy adolescent thoughts are confined to the pages of a physical (read: burnable) diary, rather than preserved for all eternity on the internet. Yet it behooves us to recognise that one individual’s trajectory from Tumblr conspiracy theorist to NYT columnist is not substantively different to going back for your 10-year high school reunion and discovering that your lab partner from freshman biology — the one who always seemed to like dissecting frogs a little too much — is now an accomplished neurosurgeon. Rather, I want to question the trajectory whereby an argument like this one — which ultimately hinges less on historical accuracy than the desire of its author that it be true — can make its way into the pages of the New York Times. Partly, this might be down to the existence of a commissioning editor on staff who likes to source their pitches from Twitter, where Thomas went viral last spring with a thread advancing the same thesis ultimately argued in the Alcott essay. But there is something here, too, about the ability of an ultimately half-baked idea to sneak past the gatekeepers of our most storied media institutions.

Like, we as a society have got to be better at discerning the truth and parsing through all the waffle, that's all I'm going to say.

If people are going to label any pushback as reactionary conservatism, that's really counterproductive and decidedly not how we're going to achieve social progress!

#links #lol

[officecyborg]

me trying to parse the BG3 party members from the people I follow’s posts: there’s a gay vampire who’s in a polyamorous relationship with a strapping butch with a bomb for a heart and a debonair blade pact warlock who’s being stalked by the devil. the green one (who is NOT an anthropomorphic frog haha who would make that mistake…) is in love with a goth. you can have an evil woman or a sexy bear in your party but NOT both. also a wizard is there

[xantchaslegacy]

This here is another artifact I had hoped but genuinely did not expect to see in the BRO set.

The stone brain is an item encountered early on by Greensleeves and Gull in their trilogy, and in fact is arguably the impetus for all their adventures, as its crash landing in the Whispering woods in northern Aerona was responsible for attracting the wizards Towser and Dacian to their village to fight over it.

The helmet fell to earth in the form of a mana vault (at least by Towser's claims), and demonstrated early on a sort of sentience, in that it could turn incorporeal when it did not wish to be touched, and eventually, when it stopped pretending to be a mana vault, sprouted a mouth through which it would deliver an unending ramble of speech about what it was and what is was for (in fairly vague and difficult to parse terms).

To summarize what is learned about it's origins over the course of the trilogy: the brain was constructed as a repository for the knowledge of the sages of Lat-Nam, and more significantly, as a tool which could be used to control wizards. The helm formed a pool of the memories and knowledge of all who donned it. This functionality could also be used to store hundreds and hundreds of commands (in this case, to cease using spellcraft abusively), which the sages intended to use to stop Urza and Mishra during the brother's war. When the Brother's discovered Lat-nam and ostensibly destroyed it, the sages sent the brain into space, where it orbited until crash landing millennia later. It was sent into space ostensibly because it could not be destroyed, and would have been dangerous in either of the brother's hands.

It is worth noting, however, that when the Brain is briefly taken to Phyrexia by a group of accidentally-summoned gremlins, the main characters discuss very seriously the likelihood it will be destroyed there (Phyrexia, at this point in the game, being a very vaguely-defined "hell for artifacts").

Greensleeves discovered (from listening to the brain) that it could take any form if instructed verbally (demonstrated forms include a sword, a frog, and a hammer). Regardless of the form, it retained the mouth, which spoke unceasingly. One of Greensleeve's assistants, while testing out different forms the brain was capable of, failed to notice that the mouth disappeared when he asked it to take the form of a helmet, and tried donning it.

It was at this point that they learned the helmet, when worn, bombards the wearer with thousands of voices demanding that they stop using magic, whether the wearer was a wizard or not. Wearing the helmet is depicted as a highly upsetting process, during which the helmet cannot be removed, and enables the helmet's main function: tagging wizards.

Shortly after discovering the helmet form of the Stone Brain, Gull and Greensleeves embarked in earnest on their crusade to put a stop to all wizards who abused their power across Aerona. After defeating a wizard, they would force them to don the helmet long enough to "tag" them, in much the same way that wizards of this period of MtG writing could tag creatures and magical objects to add them to their repository of spells they could summon. In this way, Gull and Greensleeves could immediately summon any of the wizards they defeated if they got wind of them causing trouble again, serving as a deterrent against future bad behavior.

Unfortunately, two of first wizards tagged this way, Haakon (not that Haakon) of the Badlands and Dacian the Red, can contact anyone who had been tagged, or even just touched, the brain at any point, which led to the formation of a group of wizards, under the command of Karli and Towser (who hadn't been tagged, giving them a freedom the others lacked). Towser provided the group with copies of an artifact he had stolen from Greensleeves called the Nova Pentacle, which prevented wizards from teleporting, but also jammed Greensleeve's ability to summon them.

(This alliance of wizards eventually expanded to include 11 members, and would be the main antagonists of the final book in the Greensleeve's trilogy, Final Sacrifice. It's a pretty interesting group of villains, and for my money probably the funnest one-off antagonists MtG has ever had, other than maybe the Serpent Generator Trio).

At the end of the trilogy, Greensleeves demonstrates a final ability of the Stone Brain: to break the mental tether that allows wizards to cast spells. The threat of this serves to bring the surviving members of the antagonist wizard group to heel. Greensleeves also reveals (to the reader through her internal POV). That the Brain allows her to connect that tether in any person she might want, though she opts to keep that under wraps.

This has probably been confirmed/deconfirmed elsewhere, but I believe she is wearing the brain in her DOM U card:

#mtg #greensleeves #brother's war