#that keeps the water cycle in motion and feeds the sea

[justalittlesolarpunk]

Getting emotional about the salmon run again…

#solarpunk #no but seriously the way the indigenous people light fires to welcome the salmon home #and then wait to harvest them till enough have passed by #and the bears eat the salmon and their bodies rot to feed the soil #and that grows new trees that nourish the indigenous people and transpire rain #that keeps the water cycle in motion and feeds the sea #like nooooo I can’t my heart #hopepunk #environmentalism #social justice #cottagepunk #community #optimism #bright future #climate justice #tidalpunk #ecosystem #salmon #bears #forests

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part six ~ to be more normal ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six)

A/N: I want to thank each of you who have continued reading and supporting me through all these parts (that’s almost 12k words total!) and I hope you keep wanting to stick around until the end. Stay safe. Stay healthy. 

Summary: Alex visits with James & Fraser in a bid to distract himself from thinking about his feelings toward Y/N. George is concerned.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Implications of Disordered Eating Habits. References to a Real/Imagined Domestic. An Absurd Amount of Pining.  

Word Count: 2.4k

Subdued shades of orange with the occasional single brushstrokes of pink projected through his bedroom window and painted him in light. A bird chirped, and another chirped back in a cycle of communication lost on other animals. Alex did not realize the change outside his window until the light gradient settled on a loud yellow and created glare on his monitor.

It was sunrise, and he had just finished editing for his most recent video. Where the hours of work went was unclear as it played back with the same level of effects as other videos on his channel. But the hours showed in his fringe, darkened with grease, and in his hands that shook from low blood sugar.

Sleep was for the strong – for those who executed enough psychological control to shush their thoughts. To untie their mental boat and let it drift into the oblivion sea. Alex was not one of those people. Quieting his internal monologue required medication that put him in a state not unlike how he imaged it felt to be roofied.

Or else he did not sleep.

And Alex did not sleep that night. Not because he needed to edit or because he was so busy he did not realize he was tired. No, none of that. He knew he was tired: exhausted even: his limbs felt heavier as, throughout the evening, his blood was spliced and diluted with concrete mix.

Why did he not take his medication? Why not sleep? He did not want to be trapped in ~the dream~ again.

Despite his fundamental understanding of the uncontrollable manner in which the unconscious forms dreams, Alex was consumed with guilt for dreaming about kissing his friend's girlfriend. So, he punished himself: not allowing his mind rest nor his stomach food as he threw himself into his editing.

He would not allow himself think about it long enough to come to the obvious conclusion – that the real issue was not the dream itself. Despite what imallexx edits might guide someone to believe (with their cutesy music over compilations of smiling pictures or clips of him laughing), Alex was a young man in his twenties. And young men (who enjoy kissing) think and fantasize and dream about kissing.

And far more than kissing but regardless... He had dreamed about kissing his friends' girlfriends before: or at least Mia that one time. Ok, two times. He had dreamed about kissing cute men he saw on the train. He had even once dreamed about kissing Princess Leia.

It was natural. But Alex's thoughts about Y/N felt damning, felt wrong. Perhaps because it was the first instance in which he thought he had a chance to get the girl. Not that he would do; he refused.

It hit him. If he were always doing something else, then he would simply not have time to think about it – about her. Alex grabbed a pencil off his desk and his JoJo Siwa notebook and wrote a schedule for the coming week.

His hand cramped from furiously trying to keep up with dictating the information as it spilled from his head. He finished writing, but there were still stretches of time to fill-up including that entire morning. Was he desperate enough to disconnect from himself that he would risk the Budweiser Bug to visit his other friends outside his apartment building? Yes.

While rummaging around his bedroom for fresh(er) clothing to wear, Alex swiped a hat off his desk and concealed his unwashed hair with it. Not his tiktok bucket hat nor his iconic pink one, it was a lilac snapback with an image of lavender embroidered on the side. He rang Fraser.

“Hello?” Fraser answered with a voice bogged down with exhaustion. 

“How’re you doing?” Alex greeted.

“Um.” (a pause – a processing delay) “Fine. Good. Yeah, what about you?” 

“Trying to keep busy.” He tucked his wallet and keys into the pocket of a pair of joggers he found hanging, oddly enough, over the towel rail in his bathroom. Changing into them required a series of short jumping motions as he used just one hand. “You have any videos to film that I could jump in on?”

“Well I’ve been brainstorming ideas for a new series called…”

At the bathroom sink: Alex did not wait for the water to warm before splashing it over his face. He did a quick once-over and washed his cheeks and forehead with hand soap. Picking up his toothbrush from its holder stirred an uneasiness in him, he could not explain; he brushed his teeth and spit without rinsing.

Returning into the conversation he caught the middle of what would sound like a rant or passionate tangent if he did not know that was just how Fraser talked, “…and I’ve been working on a script for something on social repose—”

“Another needs to be stopped?" asked Alex.

Fraser laughed, letting it linger before continuing, "You got me. It's not done, but I could definitely use you for some reaction bits."

"Great! I'll be setting off within the hour." Ambling around – as is the norm during phone calls – Alex found himself in the kitchen. Half-full liters of lemonade, grocers bags, and dirty dishes cluttered the counters. He worked around the rubbish to make himself scrambled eggs with ham.

Fraser asked, "And you're sure about leaving the apartment? With the Bug? We could do a discord-call."

"Might as well get in some time on the train before things shut down."

"Alright, mate," there was a smile behind Fraser's voice, "just don't get arrested."

With their call ended, Alex finished cooking. He ate his entire breakfast in the same amount of time it took him to pull on his shoes.

During the train ride, he turned his phone's volume to eighty percent and blasted his music through his earbuds. His playlist was a mixture of two to three alt-rock or indie pop bands with a sprinkling of mainstream hits: a calm and comfortable backbeat throughout. No outlier tracks that burst into hard-hitting or exceptionally fast beats – nothing that might pump-up his adrenaline or be useful to scream along with in a fit of anger. That was not the connection he made with music in his formative years. Music to him was something to drown out that pesky internal monologue when lying in bed for too long – doing nothing – but perhaps pondering on some heartbreaking or otherwise emotional line in a song.

He arrived at Fraser and James' apartment when it was still technically morning. Knocking on the door, he was greeted with frantic barking and his tired ~obviously hungover~ friend.

After fussing over Kenji, Alex spotted the camera set-up in the kitchen and took his seat. Fraser and him watched several of social repose's music videos: covers of emo electronic, synth-pop songs, and a lot more original EMD songs than either man guessed – and all were dreadful. Neither could sit through a single video for more than forty-five seconds, and most of the footage they shot was just of their mouths hanging open in a disturbed shock.

Nonetheless, it was a great distraction. Alex liked feeling like he was helping out smaller channels – even if it was just those who were his friends.

Only as Fraser was cleaning up his equipment and Alex was sitting on the couch playing with Kenji, did James clamber out of bed and stroll out of his bedroom.

"Ow. What was that?" Alex asked in an exaggerated voice when the shiba nipped at yet another one of his fingers. Turning his attention to James, he asked, "Has he been biting a lot recently?"

James answered in his softer and calmer 'tired' voice, "He only bites sometimes. His brain is probably just locked on the idea of food right now; this is around the time Fraser usually feeds him."

"I just wanted a picture for instagram." Alex tried to find a good angle to hold his phone. He pushed Kenji to sit on his lap for a nice picture (which was sure to get hundreds of comments and love heart emojis), but the shiba was far too hyper to sit still. The few useable photos he got were of Kenji biting at and tugging the strings of his hoodie. "Come on, Kenj."

"Reckon he knows what you're doing with your phone, just mugging you off on purpose."

Alex hung around the apartment for the rest of the afternoon: enjoying an ubereats lunch and having James crush him at mario kart...multiple times in a row. The three talked youtube and the continuing aftershocks and effects of the ad crisis, and Fraser asked for feedback on a few video ideas.

An hour or two from sunset, Alex said his goodbyes and caught the train home to his apartment. Upon unlocking the front door, he was met with an interrogation.

"And where have you been all day?" asked George standing with his feet planted shoulder-width apart, and his arms crossed over his chest – the spitting image of a disapproving parent to a reckless teenager.

Smiling his fang-displaying side smile, Alex challenged, "Why do you need to know?"

"Sammy came over to film the opening pokemon cards video, and you weren't here. Neither of us could get a hold of you. Do you even care about my upload schedule?" It was a half-humorous rant with an eerie sense of latent seriousness.

"Phone died." He shrugged, not looking his flatmate in the eye and certainly not wanting to admit the truth – he put his phone on do not disturb earlier that morning, muting most everyone, including George and Sammy.

There was not an ounce of belief in George's expression, "Fine. Where were you, though, for real? You never leave the flat, let alone disappear; almost called Will and got a search team going."

"I was just filming with Fraser." Alex bent over to take off his trainers. There was a click from his shoulder when he did – alarming for such young bones. "We should host something soon."

And he meant soon. As talk of a complete social shutdown, rather than just more public health advisements, dominated news outlets; the thought of non-essential businesses being made to close their doors was frightening. And what was worse than the eking paranoia seeping into every day, was the horrifying realization that the pubs were considered non-essential.

Uncrossing his arms, George's posture shifted to be more normal. His brow furrowed as he seemed to examine his flatmate heavily; even so, he nodded in agreement. "Sure, we could do that."

"Great," Alex chirped and started toward his bedroom.

George grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past him. His hand clasped tight enough that his fingers touched his thumb, and nails would have dug into the pale skin – if he had nails that is. Both men were silent amongst the awkwardness of the interaction.

Sidestepping out of the armlock, Alex waited for George to speak.

"You're doing ok. Right, Al?"

"Yeah. I'm ok."

"But, you'd tell me if you weren't."

"Of course." Alex left to his bedroom. It was in a bad state, but he did not bother himself with picking clothes off the floor or taking food wrappers from his side table to the kitchen bin. He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked for messages: sure enough, there were eleven messages from George: ranging from asking where he was to blaming his laziness for ruining their chance to film.

Alex flopped himself onto his bed and started to scroll through his photos with Kenji. There was not much choice, so he took the least blurry one and posted it to instagram – with a bright filter and a sarcastic caption that took him longer to come up with than he would have liked.

Fifty minutes he spent scrolling through instagram, occasionally checking back to watch the likes on his photo go up and to reply to some of the first commenters. It was mind-numbing in the good and proper sense.

Until he saw it – and it was not his fault, he just happened upon it – and it sent his thoughts into hyperdrive.

A post. A photo. Y/N sitting on her sofa in the dark with the one light source (presumably her television) from behind the camera casting a blue light across her face. One hand clutching the blanket in her lap as the other hand was held up. Jewel-like eyes peering through her fingers and connecting with the camera. A smile playing purposefully on her lips.

If Alex's thoughts at that moment were put into a blender, they might still have come out making more sense than they did in his head. Eyes. Lips. Blue. Watching? Angelic. Eyes. Fingers. Dancing. Blue. Lips. Taste. Lips. Soft. Photographer. Photographer.

Before he might ask for the app to load more photos, Alex's burst of energy and hectic but classic over-thinking was interrupted. From above him came the sound of muffled shouting. He held his breath, stilled as if a prey animal not wanting to be spotted, and focused an ear to the noise.

There were no words he could pick out, but from what he could tell – or from the details he filled in – it was not a light argument of few words but something that might supersede a genuine scrap. And it was coming from Sammy and Y/N's apartment.

As he listened, his imagination wandered. Alex visualized himself, rushing to Y/N's aid and wrapping his thin arms around her in more emotional comfort than physical protection. He saw her turn to him with wet eyes and a red nose before burying her face into his shirt. It would be uncomfortable – as it is to be around distressed people. Yet it would be comfortable – as she would fit against him so well.

Again, his imagination wandered. Alex visualized himself as the one shouting at Y/N and growing angrier as she refused his hard-hitting gaze. He saw her turn to him with wet eyes and a red nose before hiccupping out a sob and dashing from the room. No. That was not right. It was wrong. He would not— could not do that.

#imallexx #imallexx imagine #imallexx x reader #alex elmslie #alex elmslie imagine #alex elmslie x reader #internet sensation #eboys #commentary crew #inabber #james marriott #memeulous #kenji the shiba

[guardianofjunmyeon]

Finding Atlantis (part 4)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description:  20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to  any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has  heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But fewer  men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key  to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they  find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt  began.    

A/N: HAPPY BAEKHYUN DAY (for some of the world, it’s no longer his birthday here but shush) HERE’S A NEW CHAP!!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

Jongin comes into the room with breakfast, early the next day. You shake off the sleep that you were finally falling into. It’s hard to get much sleep when your body is stuck in a position like the one they've left you in.

The exhaustion sits heavily over you, but at the very least you aren’t dying of hunger or thirst any longer. Your hair itches; you sweat through the night and can feel your clothes clinging to you grossly. You can feel the bags under your eyes getting heavier with each passing minute.

He looks at your pitiful state with a sigh as he sits again at your side; his hands holding a bowl of what looks like a basic porridge. Last night you kept your mouth closed and let your own questions fester in your mind, but today you think that you may be able to get something out of the man in front of you.

It’s not like you have anything to lose. At worst you’ll be taken to the brig, but even that is better than another night unable to sleep like this.

You decide to start innocently. “Where did your Captain sleep last night? I’m assuming that I’m in his bed; he didn’t come back here.”

He looks at you with wide eyes. “Baekhyun? He’s been sleeping with the crew. He shares a bed with Sehun; it’s really cute,” he shares with a smile on his face. He lifts the spoon of the porridge to your mouth and you take the spoon between your lips.

You didn’t ask him for all of that other information; you don’t even know who Sehun is. You continue with the next logical question. “Sehun is…?”

“Sehun works with the maps,” is all he says. You hum.

He brings another spoonful to your mouth as you think of how to word your next question. “Are we still headed to turn me in for a bounty?” you ask, adding a slight tremble to your voice to hopefully pull on his heartstrings.

He looks at you quickly, nervously. His answer is a wordless shrug.

“Please, it’s my life on the line. I can’t even know where I’m headed? It’s not like I’m able to get anywhere with my hands tied like this,” you beg. You rattle the cuffs for added effect. “You don’t even have to tell me where the destination actually is. Just if I’m going to someone who might kill me,” you try.

He don’t answer immediately, instead lifts the spoon again. You swallow the food and plead with your eyes whenever he catches yours. He sighs in defeat. “Captain decided to change course last night, I don’t know where we’re headed now. I don’t think you’re going to die.”

You sag in relief. Thank Poseidon.

Jongin watches your reaction closely at the release of the new information. “What did you say to him yesterday? When he has a plan in mind, he doesn’t often change course.”

You decide to share honestly. “I told him that he has the wrong person and that the price for the princess’s return to Atlantis is worth more than the bounty for her.”

“You’re not the princess?” he asks shocked.

“If I was really the princess do you think that I would lie about not being the princess just to save my skin and get some other fake princess turned in, and risk not only getting an innocent killed but also potentially myself?” you ask.

He squints at you as he processes the poorly worded question. “I mean…probably.” The spoon is brought again to your lips. “If you’re not the princess, then who is?”

You shake your head. “I can’t tell you that, kid. I told her I would keep her identity a secret, and that I would get her home safely. That’s all I can tell you.”

“So you’re just trying to get her home safely?” he asks thoughtfully. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“What about the money?” he asks skeptically.

“I don’t care about the money. She means a lot to me, and her safety comes first. If I can ensure that I can get her home where she belongs, then I would give up all the money in the world.”

You end up eating three more spoonfuls as the words settle between you both. You begin to worry that maybe he doesn’t believe you at all and will ignore all that you’ve said to go about his day. You’re counting on him bringing this information back to Baekhyun. There’s a 99% possibility he’s meant to gather information as much as he is supposed to feed you.

You finish the porridge; he looks at the bandages around your head. “I’ll be back later to check on your wound,” is all he says. He stands and leaves the room without another word.

You exhale heavily and pray to the Gods that they’re on your side and can help you get out of this alive, with the way to Atlantis, and minimal damage.

Boredom sets in as you’re rocked with the ship alone in the room. Left with nothing but your thoughts, you try to think of an escape plan.

If you are no longer headed to the bounty then you assume you’re headed to his source. You close your eyes and try to think like Baekhyun. If you were in his shoes what would be your plan?

Figure out if you’re lying would be the first step. How else can he do that if he doesn’t take you right to the source and match up what you’ve told him with what the other person has?

But he could leave you on the ship while he meets with them; that would throw a wrench in your plan.

You need to guarantee that he’ll be taking you off the ship with him. You’ll sit in the meeting with him and then once you get the information that you want out of the source you’ll make a run for it. You’ll slam your head into Baekhyun’s and fight whoever tries to stop you…

A hair pin. That's what you need when you get off the ship. To free yourself from the cuffs. Seulgi taught you her little trick, but with your hands above you, it’s harder to free yourself.

And you’d still just be stuck on the ship with nowhere to go.

If you can escape him on land, you can find a way on a ship to Arae. You crew knows to meet you there if anyone is ever separated from the ship.

Memories of the sound of canons flood your ears. Your gut sinks. Your crew will meet you in Arae…if any of them survived the bombing that is.

~~~

Eat, sleep, be yanked over to a chamber pot to piss and shit. Eat, sleep, be yanked over to a chamber pot to piss and shit.

The routine gets boring extremely quick.

You count 14 days of being stuck aboard the ship. Only a few days ago were you upgraded from both hands bound to just one. Now you can maneuver yourself enough to go to the bathroom without waiting for one of Baekhyun’s crewman to hover over you as you empty out your body. You can even get a decent night’s sleep!

When you wake up feeling wetness between your legs and smelling the distinct smell of your menstruation, you curse profusely. “Guard! Guard! I’m bleeding!”

You toss the sheets off your body to take in the puddle of blood that has soaked through your pants and onto the light colored sheets of the bed. You watch the door open as a man you’ve come to know as Chanyeol sees the blood on the sheets and then quickly leaves with wide eyes.

The door closes with a slam and you hear raised voices outside. Baekhyun comes storming into the room minutes later.

“I swear to fuck if this is some kind of ruse,” the blood catches his eye and his nose scrunches up in disgust.

“I need some help here,” you say flatly. “I can’t get clean or fix this without both of my hands.”

“Jongin!” Baekhyun shouts.

The man enters the room frantically at the sound of his captain. He looks from Baekhyun, to you, to the blood surrounding you, and you watch the understanding spread across his features. He leaves with a rushed, “Got it.”

“What is he gonna do to help?” you ask angrily.

“He has two older sisters. You aren’t the only human who bleeds from their vagina,” Baekhyun responds bluntly. Two men enter the room with buckets of water and fill the tub across the room. Jongin comes back in with what seems to be a substitute for what you usually use when your cycle hits. You’re as shocked as you are impressed.

Everyone moves around with hushed words and hurried movements as you tiredly watch them with your eyes. Soon enough everyone leaves the room.

Everyone but Baekyun.

“You are not bathing me yourself,” you assert.

“Oh shut up.” He walks over and unlocks your hand. You cradle it to your chest and rub the raw skin. He motions to the tub, and you look between it and him. He rolls his eye and turns to face the opposite wall. You undress while keeping your eyes trained on his back. “Hurry up. I’m not going to look. I’ve seen you naked before, don’t start acting shy now.” He huffs to himself and crosses his arms.

You chuck your boot at his back. It collides with a satisfying thud. He moans in pain.

You sink into the tub with a smile on your face. The two of you inhabit the room together in silence as you scrub your skin with soap for the first time in weeks.

He sighs. “We’re headed to my Atlantis informant.”

You perk up at the sudden information. “Oh?”

“I don’t know if you’re lying or not about being the princess, but they’ll be able to tell me with certainty. Then I’ll figure out what to do with you.” You pause in your washing.

“So you thought about what I said then?” You feel smug.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just want to know the truth before I turn you in. I’d rather not get killed because you decided to make shit complicated. If you’d just given up the princess then we wouldn't even be here.”

You sigh to yourself. “I couldn't do that. I swore a fucking oath. I have to get her home, and neither you, nor any other dumbass pirate lord bounty hunter is going to get in my way.” The water splashes as you scrub more vigorously.

He looks a bit over his shoulder. “Why do you care so much about getting her home anyway?”

“You’ve heard the legends, and you’ve seen it for yourself. The ocean needs her. She needs the ocean, she needs her home. I don’t know what will happen if she’s gone for longer than she’s already been missing. I know that you can sense how much more violent the waters have gotten. Ships go missing every day now. It needs her home, Baekhyun.”

You watch as his shoulders sag and his head tilts to look at the ceiling. Moments pass of nothing but the sounds of you trying to finish washing away the grime that built on your skin. “Are you done yet?”

Taking that as your cue to finish up, you stand from the tub. Dirty water drips from your skin.

You rip the bloodied sheets off the bed and put the time worn blouse you’d been wearing back on. “What am I supposed to wear? My pants are fucking gross; I’m not putting them back on.”

He turns to find you holding the sheet across your waist. “Sounds to me like you’re out of luck.”

“Baekhyun,” you warn.

He rolls his eye. “Just grab something out of the dresser. Don’t get any more blood on my shit.” He points a finger at you in warning. He leaves the room with a solid slam of the door; you flick him off childishly.

Alone again, you search through the dresser and pull out a loose pair of black slacks that look way too big to belong to Baekhyun. You have no luck finding any kind of underwear, so you settle for washing your ruined underwear and pants in the bathwater still sitting in the tub.

You’ll leave them out to dry along the edge.

~~~

Another 12 days at sea go by. You’re brought food and then left to your lonesome. You have minimal contact with the crew now that you’ve been allowed to walk around the room not handcuffed to the bed.

You only see Jongin when he comes to deliver your food and pick up the trash. The wound on your head is basically all healed.

Baekhyun comes in every few days or so to threaten you to behave or else he’ll chain you back up. “It’s a privilege, not many can afford, being able to walk around my room freely like this,” he says.

When you aren’t sleeping, you’re praying that your crewmen are alive and well and on their way to Arae recouping.

You know that you’ve arrived at your final destination after 26 days aboard Baekhyun’s ship when you hear sudden shouting about weighing anchor. Like a puppy getting the opportunity to go outside for the first time in its life, you stand and wait by the door to be summoned.

“Come get me. Come get me. Come get me,” you mutter repeatedly under your breath. When the door opens you hold in the exhale of relief you desperately want to release. Baekhyun enters with his eyebrows furrowed at you standing eagerly at the door.

Chanyeol enters close behind. “Clap her in the irons,” Baekhyun instructs. You hold out your hands in front of you with little more than a scoff in reply. The heavy weight of the metal brings your hands back down against the front of your body. Baekhyun walks behind you and blinds you with a thick cloth. He tightens it with a purpose and you grunt in discomfort. You can nearly hear his smile when he says, “Let’s go.”

The sounds of shouting across the ship and on the dock fill your ears. You attempt to catch any sound you can.

“That’s 50 dollars to dock for the week!”

“You’re a bastard John! Give me what you owe.”

“20 to look, 50 to touch.”

You’re relieved to know that this isn’t some abandoned island (again). And that you aren’t going to be left dead with nothing but the key to your cuffs (again).

You stumble forward blindly for what feels like an hour. The blindfold isn’t removed until you’re sat in a chair inside of some place you can’t distinguish by sound.

The cloth is taken away swiftly. Blinking away the confusion and sensitivity to the sudden light exposure, you look around curiously. It seems to be some antique shop. Knick-knacks and jars full of liquids fill the room. You’re sat a small table, Baekhyun sits lounging lazily on your right, and a woman you don’t know sits in front of you.

You look behind the woman and find Chanyeol blocking the only door to the room. Okay. This is doable. You glance around in hopes of finding something around that you could pick your cuffs with.

The woman looks at you with an unreadable expression for all of 10 minutes before her eyes drag over to Baekhyun. “Why have you brought this girl to me Baekhyun?” she asks. Her black hair shines in the candlelight of the room.

“I need to find Atlantis, and I need her to do that,” he says curtly. “First of all, is she the princess, yes or no?” Right to the point.

The woman looks back at you; you look at her.

“No…the sea runs through her, but she is not a child of the sea.”

Baekhyun looks at you and you suppress a triumphant smirk. The woman stands up, she’s tiny you realize, and walks to you. You and Baekhyun follow her with your eyes (all three of them) as she silently unlocks the metal around your wrists. They fall to the ground loudly.

You rub your wrist and blink back at her. That makes your life a lot easier…

Baekhyun lets out a sound of disagreement. “Come on Irene, you can’t just go around freeing people’s prisoners.”

Irene glares at him and he quickly closes his mouth. “You know that I don’t work with prisoners in my midst. She is a guest, the same as you are,” she comments. You bow your head respectfully. She places her neatly manicured hands atop the table. “Now, why have you come to me about Atlantis?” The question is directed at you both.

Before you can speak, Baekhyun has already begun. “What do you know about Atlantis? About the missing princess? About how to find it?” he rattles off.

“I thought you didn’t care about some stupid lost city,” you mumble under your breath.

She holds up a finger to silence the both of you. She stands gracefully, wordlessly and walks to the bookcase along the wall by the door. She browses the books, finger dragging across the worn spines, until she stops on a blue backed book just as old as the rest. She pulls it from the shelf and drops it on the table between you all with a resounding thud. Chanyeol jumps in his spot.

“Atlantis has existed long before human civilization,” she starts. She sits down and opens the book to the very middle. “It was created by Poseidon himself as a place on Earth where he could be closer to his element and watch as humanity began to flourish. His children rule the city as he lives among the other Gods. Atlantis is advanced far beyond our years and was lost to tragedy when they demanded that they be worshipped for their contributions to the ocean.

“They were the keepers of the ocean. They do not control it; the ocean cannot be controlled. Rather, they listened to her woes, her joys, her concerns, her anger, and they aided her in her troubles. They angered the Gods by demanding that the other humans worship them, although most of them were human or part human themselves. Their civilization was ravaged with destruction and hidden in the deepest part of the ocean, never to be found by humanity again.

“Atlantians age three times as slow as the average human. There have been stories of people from Atlantis coming to the surface, curious about humanity since its punishment, desperate to live among the humans; however, there are no stories of humans traveling to Atlantis since it fell. There are no descriptions of the city, for it is sacrilegious to discuss with a non native. Because of this, the existence of this city is still believed to be a myth by most of humanity.” She points to a short paragraph in the book. “There are no descriptions, but there is record of the Atlantian return song.”

“Return song?” you ask.

“A song that helps those who are lost find their way home. Only another Atlantian can lead you to Atlantis,” she warns. Her fingers trace the words as she reads. “Follow the sound of your soul, she’ll call out to you to bring you back to your shoal. She’ll fight you to prove that your heart is true, to crush you and build you back stronger in her darkest shade of blue. Beautiful songs will call out to confuse the path, to distract you, but remembering your heart will get you through. She’ll finally take you in her arms again, cradled and safe where all life began.”

You sit with bated breath as she finishes the rhyme. Parts of this you knew, other parts you don’t know whether or not to believe.

Baekhyun asks, “And what about the princess? What do we know about her?” You feel anxiety ringing through your every nerve.

“She’s been missing for 20 years. From what we can tell, she left when she was still young. She has been called by many names, and there are even more descriptions of her looks. But there is only one description.

“Skin smooth and pale, like a pearl hidden far below the waves. Hair as black as the deepest part of the sea. Wide, round eyes, innocent as you can find. Small pink lips like a single petal sitting atop a calm sea. Blue etchings, like waves, will appear on her skin when she is returned home, the mark of royalty by birth.” She says.

You exhale shakily and turn to Baekhyun. “I told you; that’s nothing like me.” You attempt to joke but it comes out shallow to your own ears.

She continues on. “There are many names for those who control the sea: Poseidon, Neptune, Tefnut, Aegaon, Leucothea, Mazu, and Hydros to name just a few. We claim Poseidon as king, as the main God of the seas. Each of Poseidon’s children were created half human, and were born with a destiny tied to the sea. Whether it be to clean it, to create new life, to guide lives lost to the other side, they are taught their respective destiny from the day they are born.” Irene’s eyes lose focus. “The lost child…the youngest…ran away early in her life and has left destiny unanswered. She is destined to save all the seas. That is why she is called guardian. Guardian of the Ocean.”

“Suho…” you whisper shakily.

She blinks and the focus returns to her gaze. She looks to you in surprise. “You’ve heard this name before?”

You nod and inhale. “Yes, I have.” You can feel Baekhyun’s gaze burning into the side of your skull, but you are too caught up in Irene’s words to care. “How would she be able to get home? Do you have any specific way to get her back outside of the song?” Your voice sounds desperate to your own ears.

Irene taps her nails on the table, “The ocean already wants her. It calls out to her. She must follow its song and the rhyme of her people to return. I fear if she doesn’t return soon then the ocean’s anger may be irreversible.” Her eyes lock with yours and you see wildness in them. The calm look she sported when you first met is long gone, replaced with insanity. Her hands grab yours and squeeze tightly, almost painfully. “You must do whatever you can to get him back.”

“Him?” Baekhyun mutters at your side.

Irene stands abruptly and begins searching through all of the things in the room. You feel sick. “Him?” Baekhyun whispers to you in question.

You don’t get the chance to respond. Irene hands you a compass and a map with shaking hands. “This map will help you find your way to and from Atlantis when used with the song. The compass will guide you to the thing you want most in this world. Use both of these tools to aid you in your travels. It will be dangerous. Be careful traveler.” She squeezes the objects in your hands and shares her hope, her trust in you through her look alone.

You clutch the objects as if your life depends on it and stand from your seat. Baekhyun scrambles to his feet after you.

“Thank you Irene. How can we repay you?” he asks genuinely.

She shakes her head. “The promise of saving Atlantis is enough. That and bring this beauty back to see me once you’ve completed the mission….if you survive that is.” The wildness from before, the insanity are gone without a trace. She winks in your direction and you smile slyly in return. Oh…

Baekhyun squawks in indignation. “Let’s go,” he grunts as he shoves you out of the room and out of the shop.

Once out in the open air again, you spin on him. “I’m gonna fuck your informant,” you tell him gleefully. He scoffs.

“She would destroy you.” He reaches out towards the objects still clutched to your chest when you jerk away from his reach. “What are you doing? Give them to me.”

“No, she gave them to me.” Chanyeol takes a step forward and you snap your eyes to him. He stops. “She handed this stuff to me, and I have the princess. It’s clear as day that this is a mission for me.” You glare at him and he glares back.

“Well I’m the one with the ship and crew. We blew yours to smithereens, remember?” You sneer at him.

“Yeah and now we’ve just got to fucking hope that the princess survived!” you hiss.

He’s right, but you’re also right. You start to feel hopelessness sinking in at being alone. No crew, no ship, no Suho.

“Captain?!” you hear. You blink in confusion and turn around to look for the source of the voice. There are lots of people around. This must be a popular port. You frown as you take in your surroundings for the first time.

“Wait is this…” you squint as the buildings gain familiarity. You gasp.

Arae. Oh Byun Baekhyun you dumb motherfucker.

“Captain!” you hear again. You find Junmyeon in the crowd, running towards you at full speed. His body collides with yours and you hug each other as if you’re the only thing keeping the other alive. You sag in his arms, the weight of relief pulling you down.

“I thought you all died,” you whimper into his ear.

He pulls away and takes you in. “No, most of us are fine. They just damaged the ship so that we couldn't follow you. The mainmast was broken in half but we’ve been able to fix it while we’ve been here.” He speaks so fast that he runs out of breath.

“Most?” you ask.

He looks down and takes off his hat. “We lost a few men to the destruction.”

You exhale heavily. You’ll have to hold a vigil for your lost men when you all return to sea. You suddenly remember Baekhyun and Chanyeol behind you when Junmyeon nudges you with his boot.

They watch your interaction with wide eyes. You can see the gears turning in Baekhyun’s head. You shove the map and compass in Junmyeon’s arms with a bit too much force. “Take these back to the ship and don’t stop until it’s locked safe in my chambers.” He looks down at the objects in confusion. You steal the sword off his side and flick your eyes in the direction he came.

“Okay,” he says worriedly. He makes off with your new treasures and you turn your blade on the men left with you.

“Looks like things have changed boys!”

“Sounds to me like you still need some men for your crew,” Baekhyun offers slowly.

“No thanks to you. You’re the reason they’re dead.” Your face twitches in anger.

“Me and a few of my men could be of use to you right now don't you think?” You furrow your eyebrows. “You need some men and I know that you aren’t going to just pick a few men off the streets here. That would spark the attention of other pirates and then you’d be not only trying to get to Atlantis, but fighting off every man who chased after you for the princess. You need experienced workers, and I’ve got them.”

You curse under your breath. He’s right. You hadn’t even thought that far ahead. People talk, and if the Storm Chaser is suddenly looking for men that puts you all in the middle of open season. They don’t have to know why you’re doing it or what you’re after, they’ll attack first and then figure out why after. You huff.

“Why should I trust you? What do you gain from this?”

“You shouldn’t trust me,” he admits. “And as for what I would gain…let’s say I’m doing this to appease my…curiosity,” he purrs. You grimace. “Also part of the reward money. Double what I would have gotten for the bounty.” He’s too bold.

“You’re the one with nothing to offer here. How are you trying to haggle me?” You scoff.

“Listen, I’m willing to work with you on this. I trust Irene’s words, and for some reason she thinks that you can get this job done.” He rolls his eye dramatically. “I’m willing to call a truce, and work together on this. Besides, me and my crewmen have our own debts to pay. We need this money okay? You can use me and my men however you need us.” You weigh his words and search for signs of dishonesty in his eye.

“How do I know you aren’t going to cross me and steal my ship and leave me marooned on an island?”

“You just refuse to let that go, huh?” he growls. You lift your sword to his throat. “It’s your ship, it’s your crew. I just want the money and to see the city okay? If any of my men or I give you any reason to doubt our commitment to this cause, you can kill us.” Chanyeol squawks at his side. “After this is completed…well then I can make no promises. We can go right back to trying to kill each other.”

You ponder it. “Okay, we’ve got a temporary truce.” You lower your sword. “I hate to admit it, but you are good at what you do. We could use you and a few men.” He perks at the praise. “Don’t get a big head,” you warn. “I wouldn’t need to use you all if you’d just left my crew the hell alone like I told you.”

“We didn’t even-”

“Uh Captain?” Chanyeol’s voice cuts off whatever Baekhyun was preparing to say. He motions in front of himself; both you and Baekhyun turn around to see where he is pointing behind you. A woman with long bright red hair and red lips to match is approaching your group. “An ex?” he asks Baekhyun as the angry woman stalks over. Her skirt barely brushes against the ground, raising dust.

“No,” Baekhyun says just as you say “Yes.” You swallow and plaster on a tense smile.

“Joy…” You hope you don’t sound as nervous to see her as you feel. Her hand comes across your face in a hard slap. You wince and cradle your burning skin. “Okay yeah I deserved that,” you admit.

“Bold of you to show your face here after leaving me high and dry a year ago,” she fumes.

You smile sheepishly. “Sorry. There was an emergency and I didn’t have time to leave a note-”

Her anger melts into curiosity at she finally takes in the men behind you. “Who’s your friend?” Her eyes slowly look Baekhyun from his head to his toes and back up once more. He puts on his best smile. You try your hardest not to retch.

“Not a friend,” you mutter and she walks pasts you and starts to flirt boldly with Baekhyun. Chanyeol looks at you uncomfortably as they share flirtatious touches and smiles. You shake your head slowly to yourself in aggravation. You don’t care that they’re flirting, but you do have a job to do, and your face hurts now. So you aren’t in a great mood. You manage to slide between the two of them as she laughs at something that he said that, objectively, wasn't very funny. “Joy, I’m really sorry again. I promise I’ll make it up to you the next time I’m here, but we,” you motion to the men behind you, “really have to get going. We’re already behind schedule.”

She pouts at you and then jabs a finger in your shoulder. “You’d better make it up to me,” she demands. You nod dumbly. She breaks out into one of her most beautiful smiles and kisses the corner of your lips. “I’ll see you around,” she looks behind you again and smirks at Baekhyun. “And hopefully, I’ll see you around too cutie.” With an air kiss in his direction she saunters off.

You exhale in relief. Baekhyun stands at your side with a cheesy grin. “I’m gonna fuck your ex.”

“No, she’s going to fuck you,” you correct.

“Potato, potato. This isn’t my first pegging, Captain,” he says.

Your breath catches. You fake gag to hide the heat you feel rising in your neck at the thought of Baekhyun being pegged by Joy. Or better yet the thought of you pegging him.

“Chanyeol, go bring Jongin, Sehun, and Seungri here to board the Storm Chaser.” His voice breaks you out of the thoughts you feel immediate shame for having. Get yourself together.

You shake your head. “No not Seungri. I hate that guy and I don’t trust him.”

Baekhyun nods slowly. “I don’t either. Always hated the guy,” he agrees. He shoves you in the arm, hard. “See, we’re getting along already.” He turns back to Chanyeol. “Bring Kyungsoo instead. Kill Seungri while you’re at it.” He waves his hand dismissively. You hold back a snort. Maybe working together for once won’t be so bad.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fanfics #exo story #exo stories #exo pirate au #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun imagine #exo imagine #baekhyun story #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fanfics #baekhyun pirate au

[absintheum]

day 1 - brioni

ohSundown left the shore warm. You were always awake to watch the last rays of natural light, as the day approached it’s end and the night blended into it. You remember reading lines of a poem describing the moments of shift between the light and dark, but you can’t recall the exact words. Something about the rose-tinted fingers of the aurora and the tentacles of darkness holding gently onto the metaphorical hand. You never understood what the point of that poem was.

The moments in which you were alone on the shore were getting fewer and farther, between your self-imposed seclusion in your secondary hive and the quicksand pits that were beginning to engulf all of the shoreline of the island you called your first home. That and your sleeping habits’ change due to natural aging. Quicksand, you had learned, was one of life’s few certainties among taxes, death and the feeling of existential dread felt as you looked into the horizon at dusk, from a wave riding board placed strategically, so it would float on the may- or not yet- be quicksand. There was something cathartic about it. You couldn’t place it, nor name it, but there was a feeling worming its way inside of your pusher. It was a mixed feeling, which left notes of bitterness in your mouth and sweetness in your throat. You could never tell if it was positive or not.

After the sun had sunk below the line of ocean you called horizon, you got up, not bothering to brush off your wetsuited dress the sand that would be soon washed away by the saltwater. You had been clever in your youth: no matter the quicksand season and moment of cycle, you had installed a few paths of low-density wave riding boards. You had 8 sweeps of experience in not being dead via the sand; you were the unsinkable. The occasional piece of no troll’s treasure that would wash ashore couldn’t say the same.

Some, you had rescued out of curiosity and sparks of environmental awareness, while some were already so buried in that you couldn’t be bothered to dig them up. The quicksand giveth, the quicksand gaveth. That was the law of quicksand.

The sea floor was no exception: the conditions in the place you decided to construct your primary hive was just so perfect that in the correct season, the underwater floor itself could be dangerous (if the many sea lusii, including your own, weren’t already making the area a bit too cozy). Said season wasn’t due to kick in for a quarter at least, to your estimate. You’d take the smidgeon of added safety to dive in, swimming to the depths that allowed your favourite anemones to grow. The dive was always your favourite part of the day, it freshened up your mind and reminded you that you were alive, in one way. It was peaceful, to soak underwater and to allow your gills to breathe. To allow your fins to expand and contract to aid in your movements.

Your webbed hands had grown calloused from picking them- it stang, but you’d endure it. Compared to your medousoid lusus’, it was the gentle touch of a quadrantmate. The anemones you picked were more than what you’d have gotten last time, they filled the space in your arms as the gentle sting spread from your fingers and palms to the skin of your forearms. You sucked it up, the air of the night would be cooling enough. In two hours’ time, your skin would be good as new. In a way, it was similar to the practice of urchincupunture: eventually, you’d develop a resistance to the toxin and your skin would stay tense and smooth. You couldn’t eat the sea urchins needles, however.

Once the amount satisfied you and the sting became uncomfortable, you sprang upwards, to the surface. The shore had cooled down significantly, and so had the air. Your sore and slightly flushed skin felt relief, where it could. You ran on the boards and back inside, there was still work to be done before you could take a breather: anemones don’t milk themselves yet. You wish that was a saying, but you seemed to be the only user, despite the attempts to lure your friends into using it.

As you deposited the bounty of the dusk onto the table in the sliving room, you shook your arms, as if movement would soothe the dull ache (it didn’t, but it felt as if it was right to do so). You recounted the amount on your fingers and in your head and attempted to open your shelltop and almost jolted in a sudden wave of pain. How you managed to forget each time, it was above you.

You tried opening your shelltop again, using your teeth as leverage and your chin to guide the cruisor across the screen and open a flashing notification on a text box, and your voice to text before you even tried to think about typing.

--- hibisquisiteNatterer [HN] is bubbling to cnidarialClone [CC] ---

HN: v^v^ heeeeeyyyyyy bubble boo ^v^v HN: v^v^ are you awake yet? you should be, but in case you’re not ^v^v HN: v^v^ i miss you so much! the pile isn’t the same without you!! but!!! there is a new friend waiting for you!!!!! CC: ŒŒ== i’m awakŒ plŒnty and swanky CC: ŒŒ== i miss you tŒrribly too! just rŒsist thŒ wŒŒk, i’ll bŒ back soonŒr than a fresh bottlŒ of anŒmonŒ milk HN: v^v^ one entire week!! one week is too long!!! its an entire perigree’s time!!!!!! HN: v^v^ also i swear.. you... and your obscure figures of speech…… HN: v^v^ pale for you…. nonetheless…. but you do rip a shred of my soul when you mention it… CC: ŒŒ== i’ll sŒŒ to it pŒrsonally to throw it into a dronŒdustry standardizŒd papŒrwork shrŒddŒr whŒn i get thŒrŒ

You are a girl of simple pleasures. You love to torment your pale girlfriend with insufferable phrases nobody will use and she loves to call you “bubble boo”. You cannot deprive each other of this and you’re living for it.

HN: v^v^ sigh!!!!!!!!!!! ^v^v HN: v^v^ one week is an acceptable wait….. afterall…… HN: v^v^ ….. bubble boo…… HN: v^v^ >;D

What, are you supposed not to swoon?

CC: ŒŒ== palŒ for you too <> CC: ŒŒ== but i supposŒ that you’ll think again, for thŒrŒ is a dad hold on i’m ta- shit no dŒlŒtŒ dŒvlŒtŒ CC: ŒŒ== fuck nO WAIT CC: ŒŒ== SHIT HN: v^v^ are you on s2ht???????????? ^v^v CC: ONŒ MOMŒNT PLEASŒ

You disable the speech to text, again, with your chin. Your dad is awake and wants to be fed and you have to cut the chit-chat short. It was a good coincidence, however: your secret surprise of a gift can keep it’s title for another day. As the window is closed, you sigh. Dad knows it’s the day you leave again, this time for almost a perigree. He’d come with you, when you were younger, but you were well past the age of needing a chaperone to your love visits. Can’t blame a girl for wanting to enjoy the freedom of what is left of their fun years before the lacrosse bat of being hurled into space swung you into space.

At least feeding time was fun.

Your dad hunted for itself when it wanted to, but you also enjoyed looking from the glass walls of the uppest lower floor as the feeding brine was poured into his designated block  from a specifically designed pipe, and the thousands of tiny little crustacean were consumed. It made his mostly translucent body gain a faintly coloured tint between the violet of your blood and the purple of the caste below it. In a spark of childish genius, juvenile you had decided that the quickest way to make way to the lower floors of your primary home into the airlock of your submarine secondary one was going to be a slide, spiraling downwards. It was a bad decision and sometimes you’d bring a book to read until motion sickness kicked in. The stairs were added in a second moment, as you matured a sense for interior design and a taste for not being hurled face-first into the steel walls of a submarine. That last part was solved with padding the area of presumed landing.

Landing face-first into plush and pillow is way more pleasant.

Remembering you left the key item for the event upstairs isn’t. Begrudgingly climbing up enough sets of stairs to give you quads for days wasn’t either.

A second slide gave you time to contemplate that maybe you should have rethought the design of this slide entirely and not have taken it a second time. A second thump that accompanied your arrival at the plush landing station confirmed your thoughts.  A look at the clutched anemones confirms they are still intact, and relief  accompanies that. Their sting has subsided, finally they can be refined as your recipe intends. Your submarine is fully equipped and furnished, ready to leave at the snap of your fingers. You’re ready to depart and from the windows of the piloting chamber, the dark depths look into you. You look up and back into the dark night waters. You can barely make out the speck that is supposed to be the green moon. You flip the autopilot switch on and let the whirring of machinery soothe the loneliness.

#nanowrimo #ddp's fantroll corner #i went through the trouble of exacoding them with 2 different violets on the og gdoc and apparentl its not working on tumblr #please someone kill me

[queenmuzz]

Deep Blue Sea: Chapter IV

The way to a merman’s heart....

For a link to the full story on Ao3, click here

“You gotta be more specific than 'small silvery fish with spots' when describing the type you like, Vergil. That covers dozens of groups, let alone individual types.” You sat, back to the glass, while on your laptop, pulling up picture after picture of similar looking fish. Vergil floated behind your shoulder, steadily dismissing each picture.

“Well, the issue is that you humans seem to have picked a different name for it than we have” he almost seemed faintly amused at your frustration.

“What does the name 'Cordina' mean anyway?” You closed the browser window with the latest batch of rejected pictures. Well, it wasn't herring... what if it was a fish that humans just didn't eat?

“It is just a name in Old Mer. Do your names of your food staples have to mean something?”

He had a point. A cow was just that... a cow. You grumbled, this was going nowhere... You slammed the laptop shut, and spun to face him. He had been a lot closer than you expected, nearly plastered to the glass, and he quickly darted back, as if he had been caught doing something bad. Had there been no glass or water there, you would have been able to feel his breath on the back of your neck.... the thought of that made you feel warm...

“Alright wise guy, tell me something else about the fish, like how it moves, where it lives, any peculiar oddities it doesn't share with any other fish.” He cocked his head to the side, and his eyes looked upward as he recalled the information.

“It prefers cold water, and usually stays in the far south, ” He said, which was no help. Quite a few species were like that. “But...every so often, when the seasons make a full cycle, a current of cold water juts far north, and the Cordina follow it, to forage in the new territory. At the same time, the warmth of the Ringed Sea pushes against it, forcing the fish into a long narrow column, close to the coast. And since the water is shallow, the fish are easy picking for both the birds above and the predators below. And thus, the feeding begins”

Hmmm, that sounded familiar...you wracked your brain, trying to remember where you had heard of that phenomenon. A memory of a professor, showing an image of the east coast of Southern Africa...AHA! You yanked open your laptop again, and typed in words, bringing up the image of a fish that fit the description. Flipping it around, you showed him.

“BEHOLD! The Sardine! Specifically Sardinops sagax, South African Sardine ” You watched as he cautiously approached the glass, peering at the image, scrutinizing it. You felt a sudden nervousness, as if you were waiting for your exam marks to be revealed.

And then he smiled.

It was a small smile, barely visible, but it was genuine, and beautiful. Something you wanted to see all the time.

“You're very knowledgeable about such things, I hadn't thought that you, a human, would know about something so far away, and in the ocean, to boot.”

“Well, it's what I studied in university” you watched the confused look on his face, “That's where some people go to learn things so they can specialize. Some want to learn about computers,” you tapped the laptop, “Some learn to teach children, and some, like me, want to learn and explore the ocean. Migration patterns of Sardines aren't my specialty, but we did learn about them from about a lecturer who had studied it.”

“Not your specialty?” He asked.

Well, the ocean is vast and for the most part, we don't know what's down there...so a lot of us just focus on one Ocean, one particular ecosystem, hell, sometimes one type of individual fish. I prefer to study the deep ocean, it's a whole new world out there. We know more about the moon-”

“The moon?”

“The thing in the sky, usually you see it at night, cycles between getting bigger and smaller...”

“Ah, the Tidemother....”

It had a nice ring to it, you thought... very romantic, you'd have to ask him more about terms he used. “Anyways, the cutting edge of what we don't understand is the deep ocean, since we can't just... go.. there. Not to mention, it's an entire ecosystem that's not dependent on the sun...the Moon's daytime counterpart.” you clarified.

"Tidefather” he responded, “and no doubt, once you scour the sea floor, you will find a way to exploit it, as humans are wont to do. Never satisfied with their lot in life, they take, and take, and take...” His fists balled up, and even though you were separated by thick glass, you felt the urge to scoot away. The old look of hatred you had first encountered came back with a vengeance.

“What? No!” you responded. “I mean, humanity as a whole has done a lot of damage, I'll admit to that, but we're trying to get better...bit by bit.”

“Fitting words for the daughter of a murderer...” he shot back, an you winced. He had a point. Your father's company (and soon to be yours) harvested thousands and thousands of tonnes of fish each year. But something didn't make sense...

“Not that I'm accusing you or anything, but you've been going after my father's fishing vessels, but I remember that during the Sardine Run, fishermen from the villages on the coast come out in droves to harvest the fish as well, why not attack them?”

A pregnant pause, and you were afraid you had offended him “They merely harvest to feed their families, and their fellow humans, and besides, they are merely one fish in a shoal. I do not feel ill will towards them anymore then I do against any of the other predators.” he calmly explained, before returning to his anger “However, when those ships, with nets that can envelop and harvest countless fish, can scour the oceans clean to feed their hungry maws, that's what I take issue with...”

“Point taken...but if I'm going to get you some of the fish, I'm going to have to buy it from someone who most likely participates in that sort of thing... so it's either kelp, another fish I can get locally, or... this.” He hesitated for moment, before bowing his head in defeat.

“If this is the price for keeping my sanity, so be it”

******

You sat on aquarium platform, with a plate of fresh sardines splayed out in an amateur design, as if it was a plate of hors d'oeuvres at a fancy dinner. Unfortunately, there hadn't been much choice at the market, so you were only able to procure a little over a dozen of the fresh ones (and had managed to finagle a deal with a bemused fishmonger to get a regular supply, citing that you were rehabilitating some sea mammal, it was technically true) but it would take a while to get the supply going. So, you attempted a substitute, which you stacked beside the plate. Cans, and cans, and cans of Sardines. The look the cashier gave you, and the way her eyes darted down to your stomach, to see if you were pregnant, was worth it, even if Vergil ended up hating the stuff.

“So, it doesn't look like sardines are in season, so the ones I got might not be the best condition,” you apologized as you opened one of the sardine cans, one packed in salt water. Perhaps he would like the canned ones that tasted as plain as possible, and then you could try out the more flavourful combinations.

Vergil pulled himself up onto the platform, scaring the bejeesus out of you. “Sheesh, give a gal a warning before you do something like that!”

The merman chuckled...his voice, now 'real' echoed through the room “Apologies, I take it you thought we do not surface.” (you made a mental note to attempt to make him laugh again.)

“Well, it doesn't seem very practical,” you said. “You seem to be specialized for aquatic travel, while being rather clumsy on land. The inverse is true for humans.” You realized how dry and clinical that sounded, how close you were to sounding like Doctor Griffon. Your hands covered your mouth “Oh God, that sounded so bad, I'm really... really sorry!”

Vergil chuckled again (tingles went down your spine, perhaps the tales of the merfolk's alluring voices had a kernel of truth.) “It is forgiven, you cannot help how you think. You seem to be a person who is constantly observing, eager to learn. There is nothing to be ashamed in that, as long as you realize your limitations. Something the 'Good Doctor' could take a lesson on...”

He picked up one of the sardines by his tail, and with a quick motion that surprised you, he swallowed the fish whole, bones and all. At first you thought it was because he was famished, but then one sardine turned into two, then three, then half a dozen were gulped like a baleen whale gulping an entire shoal. You were used to animals eating like that, but the image of someone so humanlike.... well, you excused yourself, and went into the kitchen to get yourself something to eat (and hopefully settle your stomach). You weren't sure what you wanted, but you wanted something quick and easy.... And as you checked your cupboards, you found it... a plastic package. Pulling out a pot and filling it with water, you began to cook.

Five minutes later, you came out with a steaming bowl of ramen in salty broth. And what you saw nearly made you laugh. Vergil had devoured the entire plate of sardines, the opened can of of sardines in salt water, and was attempting to open another can, one with sardines packed in olive oil. He wasn't having much luck with it, frowning intently as he rotated the can, attempting to find out how to open the treasure box. You stood back, allowing him to explore, until he finally figured the pull tab, and with a bit of effort, he ripped open the top. He grinned at his success, but in his attempt to grab the reward within, he gripped the can by the sharp, recently opened edge. The can was dropped onto the platform with a clatter as he hissed in pain. A stream of blood bloomed on his palm. Quickly setting your bowl down, you ran over.

“Oh no, are you alright?” and before he could protest, you grabbed his hand to inspect the damage. Vaguely, you realized this was the first time you had touched him. His hands were remarkably soft, especially considering the salt water that he spent his life in. A thin red line on his palm indicated a pretty nasty cut....Or it would have, if it was not rapidly healing in front of your eyes.

“How in the...”

“We heal fairly rapidly, especially compared to you humans, we're not sure why, but it grants us a resiliency that most creatures in the ocean lack. How you humans survive without that ability, I have no idea” He, huffed, amused as you used your ratty old shirt to wipe the blood away to reveal that, yes the cut had healed within a few moments, leaving not even a scar. “You didn't have to do that, I would have licked it off.”

“You...lick your own blood?” you asked, part appalled, part intrigued.

“The less blood we shed, the less likely predators will be attracted,” he explained, and you realized that was probably the same reason for his super-healing. Or if a shark or something did approach, the merfolk would be healed enough to fight back or flee. You were learning more and more things about these people, and just by having a conversation, and treating him as an equal. The 'Doctor' was an idiot, he could have gained so much more knowledge, but no, he was compelled to be a douchebag.

As Vergil (carefully) opened another can of sardines, this time in tomato sauce, you went back to your bowl, now reasonably cooled off, and began slurping away. You watched as he swallowed the sardine, and resisted the urge to laugh at the face he made.

“Not a fan, eh? Ah well, you can't like everything.”

“Indeed, a bit too...sweet for my taste” He looked at the other cans, his brow furrowed, before he looked at you, no, he was looking at the bowl in your lap. The tip of his tongue stuck out, as if he was attempting to mentally form a sentence.

“Would you like to try some of my ramen? It's very salty, probably right up your alley”

“My alley?”

“It means I think you'll like it”

He hesitated for a second...before he nodded, and twirling your fork, you wound a small sized portion, before handing the fork to him. You'd expected (foolishly, in hindsight) that he'd take the fork from you, but instead, he shimmied a bit towards your direction, and carefully, fed off your fork. You couldn't resist giggling as he politely slurped up the noodles. “So, how is it?”

He didn't answer, his smile did more than words ever could

#Devil may cry #Merfolk AU #Vergil #Mergil #Vergill #vergil x reader #DON'T JUDGE READER FOR EATING RAMEN WITH A FORK!

[gyromitra-esculenta]

Even If the Waters Rise 2/3

Shadowrun inspired Mermay part 2 out of 3 - this thing turned into a monster because this here is like 9k words. Also, contains anime fights, and too competent people. (Honestly, like 95% of teams I ran would fuck up this scenario spectacularly).

Also, warnings for the whole planned thing: blood, gore, and violence; cannibalism (human on metahuman); questionable jokes and questionable totem choices; ambiguous relationships; referenced limb loss/cybernetics/etc; mating cycles.

*

The whole inside of the sub stinks of the cigar smoke.

The ventilation system manages to get rid of the smoke itself, but the reek remains. Jack would call bullshit on Jesse's insistence it's a vital part of the ritual - the justification itself a steaming load of bullcrap.

Point is, even if he's pretty sure that's the fact, he won't, because he doesn't know enough about the subject to not make a fool out of himself. He finishes fitting the exo jacket and does a cursory check of its mobility and the armor plates layered over it.

The next is the pistol and the rifle, both at full capacity, unlikely he will end up needing another power unit for either of them. The hip pack holds eleven demo charges and the pad, Jack threads the cable with the plug under the armor and leaves it hanging for now.

"Much longer?"

"Nah, about finished," Jesse answers without opening his eyes and takes another deep drag of his cigar. Seeing this, Jack feels almost nauseated in his stead.

The visor clicks neatly into the sockets of the frame, integrated jack connecting immediately. He plugs the pad cable into the remaining port. The tactical overlay reloads, feeding him new data.

"Som, want to ride tonight?"

"No, thanks, I'll go through the tac, I have an idea what we'll find and I'd prefer not being flooded by your sensory output."

"I'm feeling a bit bloodthirsty, anyway."

"Don't you always." Sombra flashes his display in response. In time for Jesse to turn around in the chair as the coyote fades back into existence on the serape.

"And done. We're in the clear from this side. I have the entire array down to a pat."

"No good if anyone with a moderately adequate sense of smell can, and will, smell you downwind." Jack rolls his eyes while putting the face mask on.

"All part of the process."

"Sure. Not dragging your sorry ass back."

"Dude, it's going to be the other way around."

"Even if," Jack grabs the rim of the hatchway and pulls himself up, bracing against the railing and leaning back inside, "it will be your fault alone."

"There's a ladder for a reason, dude, you don't need to show off yet." Jesse hands him the drone he sets off flying right away. The thing veers away and gains the altitude with a subtle whizz of its rotors. Sombra will keep it at a distance until Jesse does his thing.

"See if I pull you up now. Genji?"

"Waiting for the signal." The reply comes on the spot, the voice metallic even through the comms.

Jack jumps off the sub, landing softly on the shore. The wall is at least four meters tall, four and twenty according to the display's measurements. His fingers dig into the concrete as he scales it - feels like nothing - the boots keep his feet anchored to the surface. On the top, he surveys the area. No-one is standing guard, probably too lazy and too comfortable with the alarms set up, the only thing to worry about another gang or triad wanting to move into their turf as unlikely as it would be considering the current power balance. But then, with the worth of one facility and the specialists in the trade involved, probably everyone gets a piece of this pie to not upset the supply chain.

Jack lets down the rope, waiting for Jesse to clip it to his harness before he pulls him up.

"You need some kind of diet."

"You're the only one complaining. There's just a lot of me to go around. Love handles are a thing, you know?" Jesse wheezes, finally joining him on the wall. "Thatta way," he points to the closest building. "Cover me while I negotiate."

"Don't die on the way."

"You're just jealous I got some healthy fat on me."

"The only person insisting it's sexy is your recurring ex, and that's because it gives you higher blood volume."

"Wait, dude, seriously?" Jesse looks up from the spot Jack let him down.

"No idea. I'm making it up as I go."

"Well, shit, you really had me consider dieting for a sec there."

"Should've kept the charade up." Jack lies down on his side at the top of the wall, the rifle held precariously with no additional support. Its matte coating disperses the light. "I have fov. Go."

"You expect me to run?" Jesse snarks holding down his hat - incidentally running - stopping a few steps from the building, more a shed than anything else.

"Kind of." Jack centers the reticle on him, noticing the coyote is gone, again. Which doesn't bode well. "Where's the friend?"

"Working, shush!"

Jesse plops down, cross-legged, the prosthetic hand in his lap, the other holding something close to his chest - probably one of his amulets - and Jack briefly entertains the thought of shooting the stupid hat off his head just to make a point. In truth, keeping half his attention on Jesse allows for a smooth feed of environmental data from the surroundings, and if anything goes wrong, though magic, the spirits usually go down well enough when treated with sufficient amounts of very mundane munitions. His are several grades above that.

"The fuck is it...?"

The spirit forming out of the wall in front of Jesse looks nothing like any other he had ever seen before, standing as tall as a troll, a mass of mangled flesh and fur sloughing off its skeletal frame in gag-inducing half-liquid scraps. The half of whatever is supposed to cover its maw is missing, showing off the strange shape of the skull and the frankly terrifying fangs from between which bubbling drool dangles.

It roars soundlessly and Jesse shudders, breaking the first amulet.

The spirit moves forward, sluggishly, against the invisible force pushing it back. Jack puts his finger on the trigger, wondering if he'll even notice the entire thing going south fast enough. If he doesn't, well, Jesse's in scalding water.

Jesse discards remnants of another focus.

The moment Jack's half a mind to light the ugly motherfucker up, a flash of grayish-brown jumps to the spirit's back. The coyote sinks its teeth into the spirit's nape and closes its jaws, twisting. Jack swears there's some kind of cracking sound that's not a sound at all. The rest of the rotting flesh dissipates and the bones burn before following suit.

"Okay, done," Jesse spits to the side, disgust clear in his tone. "All were bound to this one."

"Jesus. What was that?"

"Bad Ainu spirit, powerful," the answer is surprisingly somber. "Feral."

"Tells me nothing." Jack slips off the wall, the drone navigating overhead filling in the gaps in the tactical overlay with new data, finding and pinpointing heat signatures.

"Corrupted bear spirit, someone brought it inland. Nasty stuff, dude." Jesse pats the coyote. Predictably, it snaps at his hand, and he pulls it back with a quiet curse - staring the coyote down until it turns and walks away, unbothered. "Anyway, the one who set it up is gonna feel it, but the further away they are, finding out what that was will take longer."

"No change of movement patterns so far. Genji, take over 'Love Handles' here," Jack snickers at the indignant look Jesse directs at him. Genji confirms, his marker shifting on the display. "I'm moving along."

He follows by the wall, the sparse lamps providing enough contrast to shadow to have him blend with the surroundings. The complex itself - if it even could be called such - was not built with defensibility in mind, but rather adapted for the utility away from the prying eyes. It had to be a port before, maybe even a regular fishing dock, the layout betrays it with the repurposed boat sheds corroding in the sea air - the wall ending abruptly obviously there to protect from the wind and the waves coming in from the side.

Jack departs the relative safety of the wall towards two vehicles parked sideways in relation to the main building where the heat signatures congregate. One is an armored personnel transport, the escort most probably, the other a massive truck with a refrigerator. He takes two charges out of the hip pack and changes the frequency on both of them. The first one goes under the truck, just behind the join with the cabin, the second under the transport. All while keeping his attention on the lone signature exiting the building.

Jack clips the rifle to his back, focusing on the hostile. A smoke break, judging by the movements. Slowly shifting his weight, Jack moves into the position, tracking the motions of the enemy. The tac display flicks between the straight visual feed and the heat map.

Ten meters, turning away from him.

The smell on the air is stronger this close to the building; the mixture of the toxins in the blood is palatable on his tongue here, kicks off his fight-or-flight instinct and the adrenaline floods his system. And for Jack, it's always fight, never flight. The first limiter is off, an overkill, but he doesn't care.

He springs from behind the transport - jumping as the hostile is turning - left palm grabbing their forehead, right fist coming to stop in their nape with a crunch.

His feet hit the ground in front of them and he shoulders the weight, lowering the soon to be a corpse man down. The dropped cigarette still smokes. With a smile, Jack puts one explosive in front of the wildly moving eyes.

"Damn, that's cold even for you," Sombra whistles.

"I'm in a bit of a mood." Jack pulls the rifle into his hands and puts his back to the wall. "That's Arasaka gear."

"Adding their chatter to the monitored."

The display flickers, overlaying structural scan on the tac. Jack glances at the sky - the drone is nowhere to be seen. As it should be.

Genji and Jesse both catch up, sheltered by the vehicles.

"Genji, upper floor. 'Love Handles', find somewhere else, demos underneath."

"Where?" Jesse's heat signature unmistakably turns around with one arm outstretched.

"Go for the fridge. Two inside." Jack takes a deep breath and turns, walking inside with the rifle braced against his shoulder, trying to not be too quiet about it, as if he's the unlucky guy outside.

Five in the room past the corridor, visibly relaxed - four at the table, one lying down. Three on the level up.

"Genji."

The command is followed by a crash above and a scream. Jack falls into a crouch as soon as he gains the visual on the four hostiles turning to the metal staircase on the other side of the room.

The recoil on each shot is cushioned by the exo jacket. Mostly.

On the tac, the fifth one is scrambling in the corner to get up. One from the upper floor gets halfway down the stairs before Genji is on him, pushing him down to the ground, his katana sliding in easily at an angle between the shoulder blades. Jack rushes inside the room - flipping his own direction with a foot planted in the floor past the doorframe - the butt of the rifle slightly off balance as he fires. This one, he's going to feel in the morning.

The plasma projectile rips the meat off the target's throat.

Genji nods once, rising. He flicks the blood off the blade.

"See if you find any paper trail, I'm going..." There's the unmistakable sound of Jesse's revolver going off in the distance. Jack's not worried, not really, he had seen this thing vaporize someone's midriff once.

He shrugs and throws two charges at the opposite walls of the room, down to six now, and backtracks outside, leaving Genji to go through anything that may be in the open.

"Jesse?"

"One's inside."

"There's no-one inside."

Unless... The cold room. Someone went into the freezer. One big heatsink on the tac. Anyone outside would show.

Jesse is leaning against the corrugated metal, revolver in hand, few paces away from the body lying face-down - unarmored, precise shot to the back that blew out half of the chest on the way out, judging by the spray.

"Follow. Som, can you...?" Before he finishes, the drone does a dive fly-by by the entrance, returning to the sky after.

"Clear. Closed shut."

Jack shoulders the rifle. The smell of blood and meat is stronger here, will be worse inside - something about it always sets him off. The building's layout is as simple as it gets: built around the freezer block with a small makeshift separate space to the side to provide for temporary living arrangements.

"Jesse, check it out." Jack walks to the freezer's door. The lock panel shines with glaring red. He moves aside to let the drone pass - unholsters the pistol as Sombra connects to the door's interface. They open with a quiet hiss, expelling clouds of frigid air.

The smell is horrible, hooks into his brain. The urge to kill something - someone - anything - is unequivocal.

"Clear."

Jack rounds the doorframe, pistol at the ready. Rows of tables, singular iceboxes, all the equipment needed for the processing.

"At least a dozen..." The tails being bled in the beginning stage hang from the ceiling in the back. One sways minisculely. "Fifteen."

With deliberate slowness, Jack makes his way towards it - focused on the back area, cursorily glancing at the compact cooling units - nothing unexpected: hands, organs, two heads probably to be sold as centerpieces, all partially treated already.

"Found you."

A bit of a shoe is poking from behind one table. He smiles. The man flinches with his whole body when he sees him. Any other place, any other situation, Jack would consider him a non-combatant unless otherwise provoked into action. But here, surrounded by all the evidence...

He wants - needs - to kill something.

He barely listens to the jumble of the language he doesn't understand, could ask Sombra for a precise translation, but he doesn't care. She provides some, anyway.

"Says they were forced to."

"He's lying."

"No shit," Sombra chuckles.

For a brief moment, Jack considers his options. In the end, he pulls the trigger. The pistol has a substantially lower yield than the rifle - it still very well could dislocate the joints of someone unaugmented - and a limited use against heavily armored targets. Against anyone unarmored, it kills as well as anything else, leaving behind burnt gore.

The smell of seared meat, keratin, and fat does nothing to hide the odor of the toxins from the remains of dead mermaids.

"We have a transport incoming," Sombra pulls the drone from the freezer. "Nine minutes for a clear exit."

"Jesse, Genji, grab what you have and clear out." Jack listens for the confirmations while deploying the remaining charges inside the cold room. He wants everything in here vaporized, with no exceptions.

"Five minutes."

"I know, Som, you put the clock on the tac."

When outside, Jack breaks into a sprint - there isn't a reason to hurry that much but the exertion helps to work the adrenaline out and push the smell from his lungs. He scales the wall and jumps over it.

"Three minutes," Sombra speaks, the tone making him think she might be working now on her nails - ridiculous, but he can't help a chuckle at the image it provokes.

"I know." Jack pauses on the top of the sub to grab the drone and pass it below before he slides inside into his chair. He puts the rifle braced between his legs and sinks forward, bending his knees. "Floor it, 'Love Handles'."

Jesse does, muttering something along the lines 'I see this is what we're doing now' as Jack digs the pad from the pouch - waits a moment before keying in the frequency. The sub shudders, punched by the crump following the demo charges going off on the surface, and just like this, it's time to crash.

"It all reeks of your shit cigars."

Jack does a double-take, looking above the back of his chair at Genji sprawled over the boxes. Genji, who shouldn't be here with them.

"It's good tobacco and they're expensive!"

"I'm bred and born Yakuza, I know my quality drugs."

"Genji," Jack begins carefully, "You left your ride there?"

"No. I walked."

"You... what?"

"Walked."

It's beyond ridiculous.

"How...?"

"Thirty-two hours, to be exact," Genji interrupts the question Jack's been formulating. "A pleasant hike."

Jack decides he's not going to question it anymore. The only downside is he will have to listen to them bicker about meaningless drivel for hours. The other hindrance being the obvious fact he has to peel the armor and the exo off in the front instead of in the back, behind the seats. He manages.

The third unobvious drawback: with three people more-or-less breathing, the temperature rises to levels comparable with a sauna.

State-of-the-art, his ass.

The riveting bickering Jack can tune out as the combat high fades and his system goes into the post-adrenaline crash, leaving him slightly shaking and nauseous - tired and heavy - drifting in and out of bouts of light sleep. When they finally arrive, both he and Jesse look like boiled rats while Genji is no worse for the wear.

It makes Jack think how much - and if anything - is left of Genji himself, with the work he had done on him easily exceeding whatever Jack had, and Jack himself is teetering on the edge. And if Genji runs off a BTL, it's not his fucking business, so he had never asked, and neither had he asked about why - and how - nothing past the part of his head and the upper chest buried in the metal remains. They aren't both that much different, after all.

But that aside, he has about enough energy left in him to slap McCree's stomach flab - ignoring the smirking 'you're only doing it 'cos you're green with envy' comment as it wobbles - and stumble to the temporary bunk, burying himself under the flimsy covers. If anyone's going to bitch about him not helping with the unloading, they can bitch about it later, preferably tomorrow, and, anyway, he's been the one doing most of the work, so they can suck it.

He wakes up too cold, with the shoulder bruised and giving him hell.

Going by the light, it's late afternoon. His gear is laid out on the tables, as is the carry-on he had left before the departure. Jack considers a swim against Jesse's earlier advice, but a spiny back that flashes him in the distance finally dissuades him from the idea. Pity. Quick shower it is.

The rest of the evening he spends putting away the equipment back in the containers first, later scanning the data for Sombra while eating.

"The security was lazy and too lax, they had to have been operating there long enough to grow complacent."

"I'm not so sure about it. From what I've seen," Sombra murmurs, "they might have bet too much on the magic, it was good."

"According to Jesse." Jack pauses with the fork full of the awful reheated mush when she ‘ohs’ suddenly. "What?"

"I think we've hit the jackpot."

"Elaborate?"

"With a bit of luck and time, with this info, I think I might be able to pinpoint the fleet that has been supplying this plant, among the others. We hadn't found one of those in two years."

"Full-on naval run? Fun."

"Trying to appear disinterested? I know you secretly got a boner."

"You know me so well," Jack laughs. "By the way, where are you now?"

"Frisco. You'd like it here, half the time feels like you're breathing water because of the fog."

"My kind of city."

"The views aren't bad either. Have fun tonight once in your life, okay?"

"Why would I...?"

"Trust me."

Her thoughts fade, leaving him perplexed as to their meaning. At least until Jesse barges in some fifteen minutes later.

"We're going drinking, dude, and I don't take no for an answer."

"No."

"Oh, c'mon, dude, it will do you good."

And, frankly, Jack does not understand how Jesse manages to talk him into it - the word 'chaperone' might have been mentioned in the passing - but after two drinks and an hour or so on the dance floor, he does feel relaxed and wired at the same time as he navigates back to the bar. Genji is still nursing the same scotch, slightly emptier than before. Probably that one glass is enough to keep him buzzed for the duration of the entire night, what with the amount of the actual blood he has in his system. Jesse and Lucio are talking animatedly. Jack takes the free stool and flips through the pages of the price-list built into the bar, stopping on the more interesting cocktails.

"Bloody Mary. The other menu."

The bartender looks at him quizzically.

"You don't look like one to enjoy the more sophisticated drinks."

A rather quirky and unfitting word to describe what is basically a cocktail catering to vampires that are apparently a welcome clientele in the club.

"Hey, dude, JJ, he's a freak," Jesse yells from the side over the music, "but he's our freak, so give him what he wants, would you, dude?"

It turns out to be watered down blood with hardly any trace of alcohol in it and a celery stalk thrown in, served in a wine glass with some damn goofy bats on it. Way to stay inconspicuous - Jack snorts before taking another sip, surprised at how agreeable the concoction is. The flavor spills on his tongue and teases the sense of smell, not quite there yet, has him drink the rest of it in one go as he chases after the climax of the taste, and leaves him waiting on the last drops. Licking his lips with a sigh, Jack places the glass back on the bar counter.

Only now he notices the place next to him has been taken in the meantime.

"The same, again, JJ." The man has a deep voice and an eye-catching cybernetic, high grade. Definitely a designer shell on it built for aesthetic value.

"Change the water for ninety-proof, would you?" Jack nods at the bartender. The alcohol adds a layer to the impression, biting where the taste of blood fades. Jack shifts his attention back to the man, and the suits lounging nearby. They fit in the awkward way any corpo rat in a place like this would, if not for their attentiveness. "Counting on something, rich boy?"

Metal fingers grip his jaw, turning his head to the side, put the pressure in, the grab far too familiar in how it applies the force to the bone.

"Those are some fine cock-sucking lips, pity for them to go to waste."

As his eyes drift lower and stop at the rich boy's crotch, Jack catches himself on the fact he's considering it. But the thing is, nobody touches him like they own him, except for Gabriel - because Gabriel does own him. There's something vicious and cruel winding up in him.

"Say what, rich boy, you beat me," Jack flicks his eyes visibly towards the stage, "you get them."

"Even better without the teeth," the rich boy laughs, nodding to the bartender, and the hand is off. Oh, it's a risk Jack's willing to take because there's a point to be made.

"Put it on the ice." He gestures to the drink and hops off the stool, moving towards the stage without looking back, knowing he's being followed. The lights and the music change, people knowing the club's gimmick move back from the marked spot and pull the stragglers with them.

Jack jumps over the rising waist-high barrier and stops slightly off the middle of the ring. He turns around and rolls his shoulders, the right still sore and hurting. Somehow, Lucio is already on the stage chatting up the DJ. The rich boy gets right in his face. Smirking.

"Your bitch ass is mine."

"Sure."

All the lights not focused on the ring and the stage go out.

Jack dives under the first swing. The second one he sidesteps, it's his turn to smirk as he judges the technique and the speed, the coiled spring in him ready to snap. There’s momentum behind the punches, but the speed and the precision are lacking. The footwork is not especially good, either, but the rich boy might feel cocksure because the pure mass and strength probably won him some scuffles, not to mention the monkeys at his heel. To pass the real judgment, though, he does have to get hit.

Jack fumbles partially the next dodge, the fist connecting with his face carries a surprising amount of force behind it even as he's moving away from it - the hand is not only for show, it seems - the second jab comes abruptly. As he hits the floor, the thought he's not the only one to con this fight is unexpectedly exhilarating.

Goddamn fucking McCree screams 'five hundred on the blondie' from the side.

Jack rolls away from the punch that leaves a dent in the spot he had occupied a moment earlier. He pivots on the ball of his hand evading the following hit and jumps to his feet. This would do some serious damage. The stakes just got higher.

Jack licks the blood off his lips, the taste now undiluted, coppery, wipes the rest of it with the back of his hand, smearing it and smiling widely.

"That one's a freebie, enjoy it while it lasts."

The punches come reliably in pairs, the cybernetic hand is favored over anything else, probably at the cost of other techniques.

The coiled spring snaps, and Jack goes into the offensive, dancing out of the way and turning. The first punch misses him completely, the second one catches the sleeve of his jacket as he puts his elbow with the added momentum of the movement below the joint - skirting under the other hand immediately to find himself at the rich boy's back. He plants a foot on his ass and pushes, sending him tumbling to the ground. The surprised look of someone who just realized they bit off more than they can handle is a cherry on the top of the fucking cake.

Jack, swaying to the rhythm of the music, waits for him to get up. The flash of anger - closer to rage - at the obvious disrespect fuels his interest in the fight. He baits the guy two or three times - gets away in the last moment driving home the point he's untouchable until he allows it - watching the rich boy’s coordination and control go to shit.

It's a dangerous kind of game, pushing the opponent until they feel cornered and lash out, but the rush makes up for it.

Jack meets the rich boy in the middle as he changes his approach from evasion to the offense; goes for a quick jab below the ribs followed by a hit below the jaw. He deflects the grab aimed at his head - the fingers close around his forearm - he drags the hand holding him in front of the rich boy's chest while turning on his left foot and throws his other leg up in with a half-turn - hooking the ankle behind the man's neck.

Then, he brings his leg down with force, noting, again, the sheer surprise on that face - the grip on his arm seizing and taking with it the sleeve of his jacket and leaving the synthskin under it scraped by the fabric.

Jack puts the knee in the rich boy's nape as he lies. With the cybernetic trapped under him and his left arm twisted, he is in no position to try anything, especially when Jack adds more pressure to the wrist. He leans down, chuckling, bringing his lips closer to the man's ear.

"Who's the bitch now?"

He gives the arm another cautionary shake before he jumps off the rich boy's back and leaves the ring. At least, compliments due where they are, he knows when he's beaten and doesn't follow to make a scene.

Back at the bar, with Lucio fretting over his face, Jack finishes his drink. Genji is already gone, and Jesse’s nowhere to be seen - until Jack catches the sight of him leaving the club with a bob of white hair on his shoulder. Fucking moron. If Jesse turns up later as a vampire or a desiccated corpse lying in some ditch, it's not Jack's problem anymore.

He hisses briefly as Lucio sets his nose proper and dabs it one last time with a tissue for good measure before making his way back to the stage. Time to get going, he can feel the interest of the spectators in him growing. Jack waves the bracelet at the reader. It blinks red. His tab is paid.

Maybe Jesse, with the money he made off him.

Outside the club, Jack briefly considers catching a cab before his eyes land on the luxury car one of the suits from before is leaning against.

Fuck it.

It's the night of poor decisions all around, Jack thinks as he strides towards it.

"Move," he barks at the monkey, not waiting for the tensing man to comply before he opens the side door looking inside. The rich boy puts away his phone and the other suit aims at Jack's head with the handgun. "Send the monkeys away, or have them sit in the front."

Their displeasure is visible and only serves to heighten Jack's amusement, more so when the rich boy nods. He gets in, gives the approximate address of the dock, and the car starts rolling down the street to join in with the traffic.

"One rule. You touch me only when I tell you to."

He makes quick work of rich boy's pants and grips the already half-hard length in his hand - looking up with a clear warning on his face before he goes down on him, feeling the cock properly fill out and become rigid between his lips. Makes sure his teeth scrape against the skin. He pulls away when the hips under his palm start to jerk with the motions and swats with a warning growl at the hand reaching to hold him in place.

Still kneeling on the floor, Jack strips out of both the jacket and the shirt underneath in one go, throws them to the side. Unbuckling his belt, Jack moves to the opposite seats, braces against the back, and looks over his shoulder.

"Need a special invitation?"

The inside of the car is too small for anything like this - for both of them - Jack delights in how it puts the rich boy in an awkward position. A moment later, he has his face pushed into leather and a hand fumbles with his pants. He hisses first at the burn, the cramping pain deep inside rips an aborted whine out of him - cold metal planted between his shoulder blades keeps him down, not that he minds.

Jack’s fingers rip up the upholstery.

Greedy and selfish, it's what the rich boy is, as is Gabriel himself, but how the same quality differs so intricately between the two of them is something illuminating in its simplicity.

The rich boy takes and tries to assert his dominance when he has none, whereas Gabriel knows Jack belongs to him and Jack knows back he himself is, in a way, his prized property to be taken care of - the bullet to be fired at whatever Gabriel wishes him to destroy.

The sex is barely satisfying and ends too soon with the rich boy falling against his back - Jack shoves him off unceremoniously and tucks himself back into the pants - but it manages to scratch the itch he didn't even know simmered under his skin for the whole evening.

"Save it," Jack nips in the bud whatever the rich boy wants to say as he gathers his clothes from the floor. "No matter what mommy and daddy let you play with, you can't afford me."

He puts the period on it with a slam of the door behind himself.

The lone security guard at the gate with maybe a tad too secretly amused expression on her face buzzes him in. Jack doesn't worry about giving out the location, no-one with any sense tries to get too deep into the seaside properties, and tomorrow he's gone from here, anyway.

In the morning, flowers wait for him at the gatehouse: a basket overflowing with white, gold, yellow, and blue. The card attached holds an unsigned phone number. He pockets it.

"Keep the flowers."

"What am I supposed to do with them?" The guard sounds offended, her face scrunched in something between offended and bewildered.

"Eat them?"

"You don't eat flowers."

"Artichokes?"

"That's one flower, and it's green."

"Fair. Leave them, throw them out, I don't care."

"The basket's nice, don't want it?" The guard leans on her elbows, thinking. Jack lifts his carry-on up for her to see.

"That's all I travel with."

He leaves her still pondering the flowers to catch his train moving inland - a first-class ticket and the whole compartment to himself, all booked by Sombra. Sometimes Jack wonders if she ever sleeps.

The itch is back with a vengeance, and he taps an anxious rhythm into his knee. An hour before his stop he realizes it's another episode coming, the prickling shifting deep into the bones, yet on the verge of becoming an outright ache above the everyday static of pain he can keep under the edge of his awareness. Just his fucking luck.

Until now, it's been possible to navigate around the days he got reduced to jittery nauseated mess hardly capable of logical thought and any movement besides dragging himself to the bathroom, maybe back if he didn't collapse on the way.

Keeping from lashing out is taxing.

It disconcerts Jack more Gabriel will witness him in this sorry state than Gabriel seeing the bruises and other marks left by someone else on his body - at least on parts that were still his body and not artificial filling for what he had lost. The need to back out of the earlier-than-usual meetup and the sudden surreal hope that maybe Gabriel will fuck him through it contradict - he doesn't even know if either is a viable option, each for a set of different reasons.

He's paler than normal when he steps off the train.

By the time he reaches the hotel he's sweating and breathing shallow, the pain in the imaginary joints rising well above the threshold and crashing in waves rolling over to his chest and stomach. His fingers swipe over the keyboard, too uncoordinated - sending the customary text. Getting the reply only acts to exacerbate his anxiety and question the reason to arrive. The hesitation proves to have substance when he notices two suits standing guard in front of the door, an ork and a bluish-skinned elf.

"She's waiting for you," the elf addresses him.

Against his better judgment, Jack enters the suite, ready for... For what, he has no idea, just hopes his clenched jaw radiates apprehension rather than anything else - a tall order, he knows.

'She' gets off the sofa with a strange flowing quality, at least Jack suspects so. The wide-brimmed hat decorated with dark fabric shaped into flowers hides her frame behind a veritable veil of darkness from behind which only two glowing mismatched eyes are visible.

"Gabriel can't make it." The voice is without a doubt feminine. She circles him once, observing him like some exhibit on a display. Jack feels anger floating to the surface at the unwelcome scrutiny he's subjected to. "Fascinating," is the ending conclusion. The gloved hand emerges from the curtain of darkness holding a familiar object.

A pillbox.

"This is a new formula that should be more effective in treating your unique condition, you should start administering it immediately." Her tone is flippant and uncaring. "I am told you are careless with taking the medication as recommended."

Jack grabs the box from her hand; the gloved finger his hand brushed against is either ended in an elaborate manicure, or tipped with a claw.

"I don't see how's that any of your business."

"I am, after all, the one manufacturing it. I would hate to see my work go to waste."

Without another word, covered by her own bubble of darkness, she glides to the door, leaving Jack alone and glaring at the pills.

The temptation is there, enticing and futile. He made the mistake once, he's not going to repeat it.

The first time, popping the pills one after another for a brief relief from the hurt: the few seconds of bliss when nothing ached forgotten immediately after when the pain slammed back into him without warning - screaming in frustration when there were no more left to take. The first time was the worst, the rest he just suffered through.

His fingers shake when he sets the pillbox down on the table - the dancing twitches playing off the connected nerves sending out random signals in confusion.

Jack stumbles to the bathroom and sinks to his knees. Forehead resting on the cool raised edge of the tub - terrifyingly conscious of every single inhale and exhale - skin clammy and cold and hot. Slowly, he sets the parameters, stopping each time he has to swallow the tasteless saliva gathering in his mouth.

He almost gives up twice: once before finishing the setup, the second time as he's trying to undress himself - the drive to just curl up on the floor barely losing to the prospect of some relief.

Sitting on the rim with his feet submerged in the water, Jack plugs into the pad.

"Som?" He reaches out after wrestling his thoughts under some semblance of control. When she nods back, he concentrates on the memory. "I want to show you something."

She pulls it up and watches while Jack smiles, feeling the wave of emotions and sensations wash over him. The dragon glides in the water again.

"Wow. That's why you purged the drives?"

For a moment, he loses track of his thoughts.

"Yeah."

"You sound strange, I know Gabe couldn't..." There's a shift in her voice and her distress banishes the rest of Jack's control sending it spiraling as he clenches his jaw. "Your cortisol levels are off the charts, as well as... Why didn't you tell me you're in so much pain, I'm sending something right..."

"No!" Jack interrupts her, too sharp and sudden. "No," he repeats after a deep breath. "It's normal. I just have to... It won't help."

"Jack."

"It happens. Flare-up. It will pass. Just... could you loop it for me? The dragon?"

Sombra stays silent for seconds ticking away before the scene plays out again in his mind.

"It will stop when you unjack."

"Thanks, Som. I mean it."

"I know. Fuck. This isn't right. I'll work on it."

"It's okay," Jack slips into the water, the momentary temperature shock providing a short respite before the nerve endings become accustomed. "You did what you could."

"Hang in there."

"Thanks."

He sinks to the bottom.

Arms wrapped around knees, Jack lets his mind flow with the memory. Under the surface, shortness of his breath makes no difference and the saltiness of the water flushes away the horrid taste in his mouth. Almost enough to keep thoughts from forming- coast over the waves of pain. Between this, and the moments he relives, time becomes meaningless, counted only by the steady movement of his chest.

The sensation that shouldn't be there sends him spiraling into confusion and panic - a brush against his back becoming a grab - breaking the layer - drowning.

While trying to fight off whatever - whoever - it is, and coughing out the water, his hand catches on the cable and rips the plug out. Only when something puts pressure on the bone below the hinges of his jaw, Jack realizes he's lying down and grabs at the arm holding him.

"Stop struggling."

The voice and the command register slowly, and when they do, he lets his palms fall away from Gabriel's hand. His head is turned to the side and the vertigo of the renewed connection provokes another wave of nausea Jack protests with a whine.

"How many times?"

He has to hear it twice with the fingers digging into the vulnerable points of the bone emphasizing the words for the question to parse.

"Eight... ten?" Jack licks his suddenly dry lips, tracking with his eyes the syringe Gabriel holds with his other hand. "..'s not going to help."

He had not needed to talk during any of the previous episodes and he winces hearing his own slurred words, more than he does at the prick of the needle and the numbing cold propelled by blood crawling from the injection site in his neck. The freezing pain is almost the polar opposite of the sensations thus far - he panics, again, trying to fight off the unmoving hand until the ice sinks its teeth deep into the marrow and shoots through his brain as he jolts on the bed with a scream before he blacks out.

When Jack comes to, the light is too bright, the contrasts too strong, and it floods his vision even through the clenched shut eyelids. He's hot, far too hot, the back of his head is damp - warm hair sticking to his neck, slicked to his forehead and temples with sweat. What is worse, whatever he's lying on - and under - is coarse and abrasive, even the minimal friction caused by his chest rising and falling with each breath is nigh unbearable.

Moving his arms proves to be an exercise in futility with how sluggish and weak they feel. Through the cotton fog swirling in his mind Jack wonders about the malfunction - how much the limbs are fucked if they refuse to cooperate with the nerves, the intent itself should be enough to prompt the action - or is it him who's fucked with the neural pathways misfiring.

He manages to kick the sheet down, it's enough to get it past the hips. The synthskin's not reacting to whatever's going on – otherwise, he'd go crazy from this. The cool touch on his stomach makes Jack jump in place and groan as the surprise forces his eyes open.

Unsticking the tongue from the roof of his mouth requires some work.

"Why are you here?" Is what Jack intends to say. What makes it out instead is garbled and croaking.

"You were experiencing a toxic hormone buildup," Gabriel replies like that's the answer to his question.

"...what was?"

"Artificial hormones to counteract, and stabilizers."

"Huh?" It's even harder to focus with the fingers gliding in slow circles over his skin - soothing - almost enough to forget the discomfort. "Would pass, normal."

There's no response, of course. Jack licks his lips. The points where Gabriel put the pressure when he held him down still hurt. Funny how he can recall only one other time something like this has happened.

He had his arm blown off and caught several slugs with his side. It had been his own fault, probably, and Gabriel had a discernible aura of anger and irritation to him when reaching for the hand and lifting the shirt to check on the stitched injuries. And being manhandled like this didn't sit well with Jack, yet. Ended with him pressed against the wall, Gabriel's hand on his throat - fingers digging into the bone and his knees going weak - and mind-blowing sex. The first fuck of his new life, and no questions asked.

"We could talk?" Jack suggests, finally able to see in the dimming light. "Don't think... I'll remember it, anyway," he adds when it obviously falls on deaf ears, but Gabriel's always like this, this being this, no explanations, no nothing. It bothers him now, surprisingly, between feeling like a wet cloth, the fuzz, and Gabriel's aloofness.

Eerily, brings up the same mean streak as before.

"Did you... you and him, did you fuck?"

The thing about Gabriel is, he never lies. Just doesn't answer if it's inconvenient. The palm lying flat on his stomach, now motionless, gives merit to the question one way or the other.

"We had... a relationship, of sorts."

But Jack gets his answer and it fucking hurts to hear Gabriel say it. Must be the hormones. The curiosity, too, because for years he had managed to not give a fuck about it all until now.

"What was he like?"

The chuckle has him turning his head to confirm its actuality - the plug catches on the cloth - he's still jacked in. The cool air on his wet hair sends shivers down his spine as Gabriel puts away a book, a paper one, to help him move to rest on his side.

With the bent arm trapped underneath, it's almost bearable. The pillow remains damp and warm.

"Impudent and fearless, the two definite qualities of his."

"Got it. Stupid and bitchy." The irony of basically badmouthing himself does not escape Jack. "Sounds like someone I know."

"Does it, now?"

"He's dead," Jack blurts out, the words following thoughts without a moment's hesitation, tumbling out one after another with no consideration. "I'm the one in here. If he comes back, it's not going to be him."

Gabriel tips his chin up with his thumb.

"Impudent and fearless, and so very clever, too clever for his own good. At least, with you, I can hold a conversation."

It's Jack's turn to chuckle.

"You could. If you ever talked to me. You're only talking to me because I won't remember it, remember? That's what you think."

"Probably."

"That's. Fucking. Cruel."

"Or maybe because you are asking now."

"I don't ask because you never tell me shit." Jack's sure his weepy frustration - and the emotions all over the place - can be easily read in his voice. "Who was he to you, anyway?"

He's steeling for the punch when Gabriel appears to be mulling the question over in his mind, his thumb tracing Jack's lower lip.

"Someone special." It hurts. He should fucking stop doing it to himself. "And, so are you. Both alike, yet unique in ways you could never comprehend."

"Maybe I could. But you won't tell me."

"No." The finger leaves his lips and travels down along his throat, past the dip between the collarbones.

"See. Herein," Jack laughs at the word, giving in to the fog, lightheaded as if drunk, "lies the problem. You never tell me shit."

"It is for your own good."

"Bullshit. You don't want to deal with the fallout, do you?" The last part barely makes it out of his mouth before Jack flinches at the touch with a high-pitched inhale cutting off anything else he wants to say. Fuck. That's one way to end the conversation. He's really fucked up if he didn't notice he's fucking hard since some point in time - and Gabriel is taking his sweet time too, teasing with his hand - it's not enough, and Jack reaches out to pull him closer barely registering his limbs finally cooperate with him. "Fuck. Don't... please."

He's choking up on words. Gabriel shifts to lean over him, continuing the deliberate motions with no intention of letting him finish, and his desperation is growing, punctuated by small sounds of distress slipping out as Jack digs his fingers into his back. The sensation of being filled arches his spine - it doesn't feel right - not wrong - just not right - but he clings to it with a needy whine and jerking hips - trying to pull the body above him closer, giving up any kind of control in lieu of chasing the denied pleasure.

The first rolling wave has him biting on the fingers between his teeth - toe-curling as it spills down the phantom nerves and runs back - still not enough, and he pleads with the whole of himself for release only to be rebuked with Gabriel's voice in his ear leading him through it. Again and again - until he's a crying mess gasping for breath and begging for Gabriel's mercy - and when it is granted, he's unprepared: coming with a soundless scream caught in his throat and his back taunt like whipcord before sinking under the surface into the depths.

Pliant, shaky, and raw, is how Jack feels waking up tangled in sheets; still too warm but not burning hot anymore, sticky with old perspiration and damp with fresh sweat. Alarmingly... lucid. The light speaks of early morning, or that peculiar breaking moment of the evening. Either way, it no longer pains his eyes.

The itch in his bones lingers, but gone is the urgency - and the memory of yesterday redefines his concept of mind-blowing.

Parched, Jack sits up looking around - feels his heart fall before he spies Gabriel sitting on the covered balcony, working, as usual, judging by the screens surrounding him, but Jack will count his blessings because Gabriel wasn't even supposed to be here according to that woman that has his skin crawling even now when he thinks about her.

He slips out of the bed, standing on wobbly legs.

The sheet feels too coarse around his waist and he discards it, walking the rest of the way naked. The artificial breeze feels wonderful on his skin. Jack halts in front of Gabriel - trying to grasp the vague recollection of... actually having a conversation with him.

"We talked," he blurts out at the questioning gaze of black and red eyes, surprised. "Yesterday."

"Yes." Gabriel holds out his hand in an invitation to him.

"What did we talk about? Was it important?" He waits for a rebuttal and laughs when Gabriel remains silent, puts his palm in Gabriel's waiting hand, and lets himself be pulled to sit on his lap, conscious in an instant of the fact he's ruining one of those ridiculously expensive suits just by touching it. "It was important. But you won’t tell me what it was, will you?"

"No."

There's a glass pressed to his lips and Jack eagerly drinks the water in big thirsty gulps, some of it dripping down his chin; he stops Gabriel from taking it away before he finishes all of it, and then just leans against him with his cheek cradled to his neck. He winces at fleeting nausea when Gabriel plugs his jack in, but, even so, the mood settles soon into comfortable silence - and he had learned to treasure those rare quiet moments with Gabriel. There's just something bothering him, more humorous than anything else.

"You know," Jack finally gives voice to it, "I'm willing to bet my meager possessions you actually knocked me out with an orgasm."

"You would lose them in the wager."

"Oh. Fuck. I was being only half-serious."

"You should be 'half-serious' about your health."

Straight to what Gabriel considers being the issue.

"It has always passed before, so that's..."

"Then you would notice those 'episodes' of yours are regular and take place approximately every five months."

Jack winces at the unusually irate note in Gabriel's voice.

"They do?"

He feels that sigh with his entire body.

"At the moment, the foremost concern is finding an adequate formula to mitigate the unaccounted symptoms. You will sign in with Sombra every day so she can gather current metrics."

"If it happens in five..."

"I accept no objections.”

Jack turns his head so he can look over the screens in the air - most of them blurred with personal encryption, and probably nothing he would even understand - but he notices one static picture with live readable feed and his stomach plummets for a second.

The perfect explanation for Gabriel's general disposition.

The rich boy.

And Jack has to breach the subject, somehow. Because Gabriel won't. He shifts and points to the holoscreen in question.

"Are you... Are you angry about it?"

"I am irritated by your negligence."

"And this?"

"It is of no consequence. It's understandable," Gabriel continues without missing a beat, "that you would find other sexual partners."

The dismissal should put him at ease, not threaten him with the inexplicable urge to cry.

"Tell me I'm not allowed to."

"Would that change anything?"

"If you tell me I'm not allowed to," Jack pushes his face into the crook of Gabriel's neck in some form of trying to hide away from the tumultuous swirl of emotions it brings up, "then I won't. Please, tell me I'm not allowed to."

Fucking pathetic for a grown man, to fight against tears and fail, but it's what happens when Gabriel remains silent on the subject, and Jack tangles his fingers in black fabric, the stifled sobs raising in force. Fucking pathetic, losing it over a thing he always knew. And fuck hormones for making him feel shit - now he would take the pain over this complete mess. And fuck Sombra for telling Gabriel on him.

And, honestly, fuck himself for harboring some kind of misguided hope against any logical rationale, Jack notes with the angry spite. Angry is often better, but now, it's not helping at all. It only makes matters worse.

Slowly, he drifts off into a fitful sleep, waking only when carried: by his own hand slipping loose off his lap. Gabriel lowers him into the water, the temperature slightly higher than his usual.

"There are other matters I have to attend to." The words are accompanied by the palm lingering on his cheek and the thumb tracing the arch of the bone before Gabriel moves away. Jack waits for the sound of the doors closing behind him. He's just tired as he sinks below the surface.

What the fuck is even his life?

#sometimes I write #r76 #reaper76 #jackande #mermay #doom76

[thatboomerkid]

The River-God’s Wishing Stone

The River-God’s Wishing Stone -- A Campaign Add-On for Bloodlines & Black Magic

The Archons hate the so-called “River-God” so much that they can frigging taste it.

They’ve been trying to kill (or contain) that big dumb bastard for somewhere on the order of sixty consecutive centuries now, is the thing ... and the nameless Goetic Titan just keeps on calmly getting right back up & re-starting his weird project right where he left off: choosing new surrogate mothers, granting them a series of reality-bending wishes, claiming sacrifices as payment and then eventually kidnapping some seemingly-arbitrary number of mortals to dwell for blissful(?) eternity within his bizarre, impenetrable, river-laced Astral realm.

At this point, the Invisible Masters of Heaven & Earth have thrown just about every last damn trick in the book they have at him, hoping to find something that will leave so much as a dent in the River-God’s thick skull.

He’s been ... slowed down. Technically.

His power in the modern era is still earth-shattering, of course. But he is, in theory, semi-contained.

At the moment.

Every few years, the Archons simply grit their teeth and accept that “losing the population of a small city,” “sending the inhabitant of an Abhorrent Heaven to kill the River-God’s mother & watching it die near-instantly” and/or “scrubbing all reference to the events of a specific half-decade within a given county or municipality from the internet forever” is the simply price they have to pay for doing business in this reality.

But let’s back up for a second.

Brought to you absolutely free to play, to test & to share, as always, by the fine folks of my Patreon.

original photography by Resa LaMont, digital editing by Tim Jenkins of Battle! Studio

The Ancient History of the River-God & his Mothers

Back before time was, in the unknowable days when magic ruled the universe openly & early humans still lived or died (mostly died) at the mercy of Goetic Spirits unconstrained by a holy Veil of the Grand Archons’ illuminated design -- or so the story goes -- the River-God was just one of many elder entities of inscrutable origin & insane power: Titans, who had to be put down like so many rabid dogs for the safety of the cosmic clockwork.

He wasn’t particularly special back then, of course. Old and weird and powerful, sure. A thing of multi-fold, pre-human terror, certainly. But no more notable than any given ancient mountain spirit, dune-sovereign or lord of the cold north bog.

By a peculiar quirk of fate, however, the creature who would become known in later centuries as the River-God was tied to a specific few twists & bends of a scattered assortment of major rivers with (mildly) usable land surrounding them: the sorts of places that routinely flood, providing natural irrigation.

Hunting-camps sprung up in his long green shadow. Pens for livestock. A few permanent dwellings, even. Lodges, then temples, then farms. A crossroads, here & there, bridges and workshops, simple townships. Eventually, the first true cities. People washed their clothing & bathed their children where he lazily curled, people drank from his rippling waters & took his wet clay to make their bricks, people scattered the ashes of their dead along the high reeds of his winding banks & they explored up and down his incalculable shining length.

People gathered at the river, and they invested it with power and wonder and worship. They marveled at the majesty of living water & living stone: an eternal ribbon of ever-flowing, ever-shifting life that can bring-forth floods & serpents, disease & horror at a whim ... or, instead, grant an impossible bounty, seemingly without effort or end.

They skipped smooth, worry-worn stones across his flesh and they dreamed their big mortal dreams; they stood waist-deep in his blood and they gazed at the infinite mysterious sky reflected in his rippling skin; they plunged their salty tears & dust-stained hands into him, singing their songs of hope & love, regret & rage ... and they made wishes with all their heart.

That’s when the trouble started.

Eventually, the River-God woke up. And he stayed awake. He didn’t have a name. He didn’t have a purpose. He didn’t have a place in any pantheon of spirits. As a side-note, the closest the Mesopotamians ever had was Ningirsu, who is said to have rerouted the Tigris & the Euphrates ... but he wasn’t actually their personification, if you can grok the distinction. 

When the River-God woke up, he was a child ... and he wanted his mommy.

He didn’t know much, but he knew that mortals liked making wishes. He knew that power came from death. He knew that he could walk into the world and that he could find what he wanted to claim & to keep: strike a deal with an uncaring, incomprehensible universe using the simplest kind of bargain, one far older than written language.

That was enough, and the River-God’s plan has pretty much evaded adaptation ever since by sheer force of brute, universe-rending magical potency.

The River God & his Mothers in the Modern Era

The River-God is a unique Water-Infused Giant Cursed Lord Noble Shaitan with the Chained to Mortal Whim Drawback. He thinks he’s human, anywhere from eight to thirteen years old (on rare occasion, between five to seventeen).

He only accepts the authority of women who could -- in theory -- be his mother: usually high-school girls, although some of his “mothers” have been college co-eds, young working-women or even elderly spinsters. He can’t recognize the authority of women who have children of their own, biological or adopted, and he will never, under any circumstances, harm a child.

Note that he also doesn’t recognize the authority of Blooded individuals or non-human creatures, so 99.9% of all PCs are right out. 

His iconic object is a smooth river-stone, unmarked and unremarkable.

It’s one of these. Probably.

If the River-God is ever momentarily incapacitated -- like, say, from a direct nuclear strike -- he is bound within his stone once more. His stone will always eventually wash up upon the banks of a river somewhere near or within a city, always to be found by a young woman who wishes her life were different.

He grants every single wish his new mother makes, often with horrible & tragic consequences. He then claims a life to pay for each wish, also often with tragic, horrible & brutally unforeseen consequences. 

Wishes granted by the River-God never harm his new mother. And they will never harm a child, either directly or inadvertently.

Everyone else? Yeah, everyone else is fair game.

Note that there is no warning-label written on the side of the stone.

The River-God most certainly doesn’t tell his new mother what she’s gotten herself involved in. He just carves her will -- or some vaguely reasonable facsimile thereof -- directly into the screaming, unwilling universe in a brick-stupid, incredibly alien attempt to please her.

He listens to his new mother very carefully. He listens all the time. He watches her. He protects her. He loves her & he cares for her. He talks to her, sometimes, when she seems very lonely or very scared. He appears to her in dreams. And he makes whatever she says she wishes were so just so.

The River-God often has to expend multiple daily uses of his wish spell-like ability to correctly take a life to “pay” for the wishes he grants, but it’s okay: he knows that’s part of the deal, an agreement as old as time itself.

Every time his mother says “I wish ...”, the River-God knows in his deepest heart-of-hearts that she also means “... and I accept the sacrificial price.”

She doesn’t have it say that last part out loud. It’s implied. ALWAYS.

Even if she says “ ... and I hope nobody dies this time.”

That’s not how magic works, silly.

The River-God has a long memory, and he can recall a list of wishes for days or weeks or even months if he has to. He grants them all in order & pays for them as he goes -- each & every -- all in slow motion, like the river running to the sea.

This cycle of wish-granting and sacrifice continues until the River-God’s new mother either throws the stone away or until the exact moment that she wishes for one of the following things:

Godhood or immortality

Infinite beauty

Infinite power

Infinite wealth

Infinite happiness

Infinite talent (artistic, athletic, intellectual, other)

Something else deeply wonderful and vastly beyond the human

At that time, the River-God transfigures his new mother into her new form and vanishes her off to his otherworldly realm.

We don’t know much about the fates of the River-God’s previous mothers, but we can safely assume that they are all godlike, immortal, beautiful, powerful, wealthy, talented & happy beyond mere human comprehension.

When this vanishing happens, the River-God often takes along whatever other mortals he thinks his mother might like to have with her in her eternity in paradise: friends, family, pets, servants, slaves, that sort of thing.

No one knows what happens to them.

They just vanish.

A few days or weeks, months or years later ... a smooth river stone washes up upon the banks of a river somewhere near or within a city, ready & eager to be found by a young woman who wishes her life were different.

The River God’s Power

The River-God can’t be killed, because even the Grand Archons -- with all their incalculable power -- can’t get people to stop worshiping him in that tiny, weird little way that he’s adapted over the last six millennia to feed off-of.

The River-God is who you’re praying-to whenever you beg for something under your breath while you cross over a bridge: when you’re not really praying, just kind of hoping-out-loud. The River-God is who you’re sacrificing-to when you skip a few stones along the creek on a warm spring evening, thinking about what you reckon ought to be different. The River-God’s soul is that melancholy mist you see out the window when you watch the late autumn rain fall on the pond: just wishing, most certainly not begging for any specific saint or martyr to intercede on your behalf with a higher power.

The River-God loves cities, because they’re full of people. Cities love rivers, and huddle close around them. People love rivers & cities, wishing & dreaming: they can’t stop. They never do.

The Archons would have to lobotomize about 8 billion people and drain about 10 million cubic miles of water out into the ocean before they could reasonably expect the River-God to starve to death from lack of prayer & sacrifice over the next few decades.

Don’t think that they haven’t considered it.

Using the River-God & his Mothers

Any storyline in which the PCs encounter the River-God (or a Goetic Titan of similar power) should be handed with exceptional care.

Remember: facing the River-God toe-to-toe in a straight-up challenge of “punch face, go hard” is closer to a ‘campaign-ending cataclysm on par with the coming of Earthfall’ than it to is a fight, as they say.

Instead ... perhaps a friendly & wealthy NPC -- possibly one who owes the PCs something important and valuable, promised in exchange for services rendered -- dies in a freak accident and leaves everything (his mansion, his fleet of cars, his occult library, etc.) to a random out-of-sate trailer-trash high school girl who may or may not be the child of his distant cousin.

Any cursory magical examination of this NPC’s now-abandoned house reveals that powerful arcane enchantments were used to kill him: after all, any use of 9th level spell-effects leaves plenty of residue behind. And even the most basic mundane investigation will unveil that a rash of mysterious deaths & creepy disappearances are actively plaguing the girl’s hometown.

Of course, if the PCs are doing most of their investigations online ... well, it shouldn’t startle them too much when news-reports and Wikipedia pages start vanishing into thin air: Haziliah, Grand Archon of Spirits & Lightning, (see Bloodlines & Black Magic pg. 204) takes a personal interest in bottling-up all mention of the River-God and his manifestations.

Eventually, the PCs will have to go & track this girl down in person. When they do, they’ll bump heads with any number of other occult investigators, each with their own mission, all trying to keep quiet in a town slowly going mad.

Once she has the Wishing Stone, there is a 10% cumulative chance each day that the that the River-God’s mother will make a wish. You can decide what this wish is privately or roll on one of the charts below.

1d30 Sample Wishes ... and their results: [If you don’t have access to a d30, feel free to roll 1d20+1d10, then round up or down as necessary as you remove results that have already been rolled]

I wish my [friend or family member] wasn’t so embarrassing: the chosen friend or family member becomes incredibly proficient at some natural skill or talent -- gaining a permanent +10 bonus on all Craft, Profession or Performance checks of the appropriate type; note that within an O7 setting, this often grants such a character an instantaneous world-class level of ability -- and thus gains improved confidence, becoming more attractive & popular as a result.

I wish my [friend or family member] wasn’t so embarrassing: chosen friend or family member dies.

I wish I was the most popular girl in school: the River-God’s mother becomes inexplicably, incredibly popular. All creatures with a connection to the school have their attitude toward the River God’s mother shifted one category toward the positive (no save).

I wish I was the most popular girl in school: everyone in school more popular than the River-God’s mother dies in a freak accident. For example, a bus full of cheerleaders drives off a bridge during a storm.

I wish that I could eat whatever I wanted and it would make me skinny: the River-God’s mother loses weight until she is at her ideal proportions, no matter what food or beverages she consumes.

I wish I had an awesome new car: a close family member of the River-God’s mother comes into sudden money and decides to buy her a nice new car for reasons they cannot fully explain.

I wish I had an awesome new car: a distant family member of the River-God’s mother dies in a horrible accident. An awesome new car is left to the girl in their will.

I wish my [parental figure] would pay attention to me: the parental figure has an epiphany about their negative life choices and forever-after becomes more attentive & interested in the River-God’s mother.

I wish my [parental figure] would pay attention to me: the parental figure suffers a terrible mental breakdown or traumatic injury and becomes completely dependent on the River-God’s mother for their every need.

I wish my [boyfriend/girlfriend] had more money: the current love-interest of the River-God’s mother comes into sizable fortune or suddenly gets a new, much better-paying job.

I wish my [boyfriend/girlfriend] had more money: the current love-interest of the River-God’s mother dies, leaves or vanishes. A new love interest, much wealthier, becomes interested in the River-God’s mother.

I wish my [family member or love interest] didn’t hit me: the family member or love interest becomes a significantly better person, often making a “lifestyle 180″ overnight. This person might inexplicably quit a job that causes them stress or give up all substance abuse cold turkey.

I wish my [family member or love interest] didn’t hit me: the family member or love-interest becomes physically incapable of hitting the River-God’s mother, usually due to a terrifying freak accident that may cripple or permanently disable them.

I wish [any one person] was dead / I wish [ex-boyfriend, bully or rival] would [rot, keel over and die, die in a fire, choke on their own bull]: target dies in an appropriately horrible way. Note that this death must still be paid-for via a sacrifice.

It wish [any one person] would get what was coming to them: target suffers a horrible, karmic accident.

I wish I was top of my class: a strange glitch in the school’s computer system causes the River-God’s mother to have the highest listed GPA in the school. This error cannot be corrected.

I wish I was top of my class: everyone with a higher GPA than the River-God’s mother suddenly gets very ill, either dropping out of school or transferring to another institution.

I wish I was top of my class: all of the teachers working with the River-God’s mother immediately begin showing her dangerously obsessive favoritism, willing to lose their jobs rather than see her grades fall.

I wish I wasn’t grounded / didn’t have detention: the person who chose to punish the River-God’s mother casually changes their mind and cancels the punishment, even if it’s a bizarrely out-of-character choice to make.

I wish I wasn’t grounded / didn’t have detention: a horrible tragedy strikes the town where the River-God’s mother lives. Everyone is so shocked & heartbroken that no one even remembers that she was supposed to be grounded or in-detention.

I wish there wasn’t school tomorrow / I wish I didn’t have work in the morning: school or work is inexplicably cancelled for reasons that no one can explain.

I wish there wasn’t school tomorrow / I wish I didn’t have work in the morning: school or work is cancelled due to flooding from a burst pipe or a freak storm.

I wish there wasn’t school tomorrow / I wish I didn’t have work in the morning: school or work is cancelled due to a bomb threat, a murder on campus or another extreme occurrence.

I wish there wasn’t school tomorrow / I wish I didn’t have work in the morning: school or work is cancelled when the entire building caves in.

I wish I could fly: the River-God’s mother is randomly sent airline tickets to a favorite destination, perhaps after winning them in a contest.

I wish I could fly: the River-God’s mother gains the ability to levitate at will as a spell-like ability. Each round after beginning to use this ability, she is also subject to an invisibility effect that ends when she lands. NOTE: Because this ability sort-of preserves the secrets of the Archons, it is believed that this second effect is a fail-safe put in place by their hand. This is also usually the second-to-last wish that the River-God’s mother makes, as her next wish often gives him an opportunity to take her away to live with him forever.

I wish I could [sing, act, draw, dance]: the River-God’s mother gains a permanent +10 bonus on all Craft, Profession or Performance checks of the appropriate type. Note that within an O7 setting, this often grants her an instantaneous world-class level of ability.

I wish I was the prettiest [sister, cheerleader, employee, etc.]: the River-God’s mother becomes significantly more attractive.

I wish I was the prettiest [sister, cheerleader, employee, etc.]: the River-God’s mother becomes significantly more attractive AND all of her rivals become less attractive due to acne outbreaks, bizarre accidents, allergic reactions or other non-lethal tragedies.

I wish [love interest] would ask me to prom/homecoming/other event: the River-God’s love interest asks her to the event within 24 hours. If the love interest is in another relationship, they end it immediately.

1d30 Sample Wishes ... with their results left entirely vague: [As above, if you don’t have access to a d30, feel free to roll 1d20+1d10, then round up or down as necessary as you remove results that have already been rolled]

I wish I could just get into [college, internship, job]

I wish I didn’t have to work at all.

I wish school was just over for the semester.

I wish I had the coolest [car, clothes, hair] in school.

I wish my [parental figure] wasn’t sick.

I wish people valued me for my intelligence instead of just my looks.

I wish people could just be honest.

I wish I didn’t have to sleep.

I wish I wasn’t scared.

I wish [rival or bully] would just leave me alone.

I wish we could make it to [state championships or other major competitive event]

I wish I had unlimited [make-up, accessories, tacos].

I wish this [homework, paperwork] was just frigging done.

I wish I didn’t have to babysit tonight.

I wish I could just get into that [show or event].

I wish my friends weren’t busy during [specific time].

I wish my friends were cooler / I wish I had cooler friends.

I wish I knew what everyone actually thought about me:

I wish I had better social media presence.

I my [parental figure] couldn’t see what I was doing all the time.

I wish I had a magic toaster.

I wish everybody shared my ideals

I wish I didn’t have to poop.

I wish I’d never get sick.

I wish I had [piece of media: book, movie].

I wish it wasn’t so [hot, cold, rainy].

I wish I could just sleep here.

I wish [parental figure] would pay attention to me.

I wish [sibling] wouldn’t take my things.

I wish [departed loved one] wasn’t dead.

The Sacrifice:

Whenever the River-God grants a wish, he takes a life in payment; usually (but not always), this is a person or animal close to the River-God’s mother. This ugly sacrifice serves not only as “payment” but has the added benefit of isolating the wisher: filling her with grief, making her more dependent on the River-God’s direct otherworldly power, increasing the odds that she will make another wish ... or make an open-ended wish that he may grant by abducting her.

People & animals who die in this way always appear to suffer some type of tragic but ultimately mundane accident, although the circumstances may be quite creepy ... and serve as excellent plot-hooks for PCs.

The River-God’s mother makes a wish. Someone dies. Who is it? [Roll 1d12]:

A close friend of the River-God’s mother

A distant relative

A neighbor

An estranged, long-lost or childhood friend

A neighbor’s pet or a close friend’s pet

A family pet

A family friend or a co-worker of the River-God’s mother

A co-worker of a family member of the River-God’s mother

The owner of a local business frequented by the River-God’s mother

A relative of a close friend

A neighbor of a close friend

A close family member of the River-God’s mother

Deaths that are ordained to occur in this way usually happen within 24-48 hours of a wish being granted, often (but not always) at night and usually presaged by rain, flooding, burst pipes and power-outages.

Note the the River-God’s mother doesn’t get a text alert about a death caused in this way: she may learn about a death days or even weeks later.

Threshold Increases:

If a character’s Threshold increases to an odd number from direct exposure to the presence (or the power) of the River-God or current chosen mother, he may gain one of the following Oddities (roll 1d12):

You may grant a wish to a non-Blooded human, as per the rules above, once per week. You must both be standing in water (at least ankle-deep) when this wish is made. A tragic death, as per the rules above, occurs within one week to pay for this wish.

You always leave wet footprints, as if you had just stepped out of the shower or the swimming pool. Any place that you sleep is soaked when you wake up, as if you had laid down while sopping wet.

You may use water breathing once per day as a spell-like ability; your character level is the caster level for this effect. This ability may not be used in salt water.

You may use the create water cantrip at-will with a range of touch: you must physically strike the place from which water will flow, usually by stomping, slapping or whacking the spot with a stick.

As long as you can see the edge of the water in multiple directions, you always gain the benefits of water walk. Thus, you can walk across a river or a swimming pool but not (for example) across empty ocean. If you ever cannot see the edge of the water (because it is dark, because you are blindfolded or for any other reason), you lose this ability.

You may drink any substance without getting sick; you gain an immunity to ingested poisons and you cannot be harmed by drinking anything that is a liquid. In addition to this limited poison immunity, you are considered to have energy resistance (all energy types), fast healing and hardness equal to your Hit Dice for purposes of consuming any substance covered by the rules above. Thus, for example, you could drink a steaming cup of bleach, hydrochloric acid or liquid nitrogen without suffering damage. You are highly susceptible to thirst, and must drink 10 gallons of water (or one gallon of blood) each day to avoid dehydration; if you become fatigued due to thirst, you lose all supernatural and spell-like abilities until such time as you drink again and receive 8 hours of rest.

You may always “skip” a handheld object upon a sufficiently-large body of water a full seven times. For example, you could fling a handgun or cellphone and have it skip seven times across a swimming pool before finally sinking. You may skip objects this way even if you are blindfolded, but you must have at least one hand free to activate this ability.

Once per day, as a full round action that provokes attacks of opportunity, you may call forth heavy precipitation. This supernatural ability causes rain – or snow, sleet and fierce wind, if the temperature is below 30 degrees Fahrenheit – to begin falling within a 2 mile radius around you after a number of minutes equal to (1d20 -[your level]). In addition to automatically extinguishing any unprotected flames, precipitation of this magnitude has a 50% chance of extinguishing protected light-sources such as hooded lanterns (but not flashlights). Ranged weapon attacks and Perception checks made outdoors during this shower suffer a -4 penalty, although you are immune to this penalty. The precipitation lasts for 1d4 hours plus your level in hours before abating. You may also choose, when you activate this ability, to summon dense fog: this obscures all sight beyond 5 feet, including darkvision. Creatures more than 5 feet away have concealment – attacks by or against them have a 20% miss chance – and you are not immune to this penalty. This fog lasts for 1d10 minutes plus your level in minutes or until the precipitation ends, whichever comes first.

As long as both you and your opponent are standing in at least an inch of water, whenever you win a bull rush check by 5 or more and push your target into a stone barrier, your target must make a Reflex save (DC 10 + 1/2 your HD + your Strength modifier) or be forced into the barrier as if your target had cast meld into stone. Your victim is trapped in this way until she makes a successful Fortitude save (same DC as above) as a full-round action to exit the stone. While you are standing in at least an inch of water, you may use meld into stone at will.

You gain fast healing 1 as long as you are at least hip-deep in water and at least one of your feet is touching stone. You cannot heal in any way (magical or mundane) while you are completely dry.

Once per day as a standard action, you may touch a single metal object of no more than 10 pounds and transform it into any other metal for 24 hours. During any time that this metal object is submerged fully in water, the duration of your metamorphosis does not elapse: thus, if you touched a copper penny and turned it into a silver penny or an adamantine penny, then immediately thew that coin into a fountain or kept it in a glass of water on your nightstand, it would not transform back into copper until 24 hours after being removed from the water.

Roll 1d10+1 twice, taking both results. If you gain the same result for both rolls, re-roll one of the dice.

#pathfinder #urban #fantasy #horror #bloodlines and black magic #wishtwister #campaign #add on

[recentanimenews]

INTERVIEW: Children of the Sea’s Director on How Doraemon Taught Him About Filmmaking

  Ayumu Watanabe is one of the most versatile under-the-radar directors in the past few years. His works have ranged from the funny comedy/drama Space Brothers, to the classic Doraemon movies, to the nostalgic and bittersweet TV adaptation of After the Rain. Today we sit down with him to discuss his latest and grandest work yet: Children of the Sea, a movie that hit Netflix and other streaming services earlier this month.

  Children of the Sea is a movie focusing on a girl named Ruka, and her mysterious connections to two other kids — Sora and Umi — as they investigate the unnatural disappearance of ocean life. The bonds of their friendship are tested by fate, the call of nature, and adolescence as they find themselves intertwined with a greater force than anything they could have imagined.

  Before the movie hit streaming services this month, we got a chance to talk to Ayumu Watanabe and take a look at the themes of this movie, the incredible animation and work put into it, and what it was like working with the famous Joe Hisashi (composer for many Ghibli films).

  What is challenging adapting such a dense and mysterious manga from the prolific Daisuke Igarashi?

  First, it was the visual aspect. We aimed to get the atmosphere of the manga just right. We didn’t want to simplify the information. Especially for the close-ups, we drew in more elements to make a stronger impression.

  Then there was the structure. We didn’t have enough runtime to fit the manga’s expansive story, so we narrowed it down to the points that maximized the appeal of the manga. And for the parts that didn’t make it into the movie, we decided to leave it to the manga. We wanted to narrow the story to being about a girl to open the door to a vast world.

  I hope we were able to achieve it.

  Children of the Sea uses a mix of traditional animation as well as CG animation. Could you tell us a little about how you integrated both aspects to make such a visceral experience?

  Everyone on the team was aware of what we were pursuing, and we thought about what we need to do to achieve it. What we wanted to animate, to film…we thought of those things first and how to make them come to life, rather than primarily focusing on technique. I think that was all influenced by how much of an impact the original manga had on us.

    You’ve worked on a variety of adaptations in the past decade, ranging from Space Brothers, Doraemon, and After the Rain. Was there a particular work or experience that helped you tackle adapting Children of the Sea?

  I learned everything I needed to know about animating films from Doraemon. Films have an audience waiting for them, and I was able to experience the wonder of sharing emotions with them. I also learned the harsh reality of when things didn’t go well, either. What does the audience want? I value the determination to identify and show it.

The way I approach any property or work is the same. All of the films I worked on were titles that I liked. And I am really fortunate for that.

  Some of the animation in Children of the Sea is incredibly inventive. I’ve heard that a variety of techniques were used, including backward imposing of CG on genga, mirroring the sea’s lighting with composite, etc. What was the most technically challenging moment to create in this movie and why?

  It was difficult to determine how much to express in the film. Simply put, it wasn’t easy to decide where the goal was. All the staff made every cut, every scene with their heart and soul. The more effort we put in, the better it got. We could have continued working on this film forever, but then we would lose sight of the goal.

  It wasn’t about the technique; it was about our spirit. The retouching of every drop. Matching the CG to the hand-drawn parts. The magnificent motion and lighting to create the size of the whale. Also, the movement and denseness of the water that surrounds it. Coloring it. Anywhere we can put in the effort, we can keep working, lol.

I don’t know if this answers your question. But it was always the ideals that led us and not the techniques.

    Ruka is a delightful and refreshing female protagonist. She’s feisty, impulsive and wears her heart on her sleeve, but she’s also struggling with some personal issues. Could you tell us some of the work that went into the process of making her such an engaging protagonist?

  Ruka is a difficult character. I’m not a teen nor a female, so it was hard to understand her emotions. Especially because I think that she didn’t understand herself either. I patiently waited until she started to move on her own. Then, I was able to understand what she was thinking. Words are so light and fluffy, but if she doesn’t put it in words, no one will comprehend her. But it’s so hard to put in words…her thoughts went in circles. She was always wavering, like a flower floating in the water.

  What was it like working with Joe Hisashi? What were some core musical elements that you wanted to bring out in this film?

  It was my dream to have Hisaishi-sensei to compose for me, so I’m excited that it was fulfilled. I am a huge fan of his. I heard his music for the first time when I was a teenager and was fascinated. I also think that he is best-suited composer for this film. His unique style of minimalistic was perfect for this property.

What was important was the objectivity of the music. As an entity that overlooks the story, the theme simply flows with occasional silent moments to casually snuggle up next to the audience. But in the festive scene, it is firm and lifts our emotions. When you realize it, the score envelops those who are watching. That is the kind of music Hisaishi-sensei creates.

    Speaking of music, the sound design of this film was incredibly detailed. Could you go into what that process was like and how you synced it with the animation and soundtrack to make those moments?

  Mr. Kasamatsu has incredible instincts. He has the ability to come up with sounds that don’t exist. And the sense to put in no sound at all when necessary. It was refreshing to have scenes that don’t have a score, but you felt like you could hear something. He pulled back to match the music and the dialogue.

For the scenes where I wanted the audience to focus, he was discreet, using extreme bass. His use of range that didn’t create sound was also wonderful. I learned a lot about sound design from him.

  Children of the Sea captures many sweeping themes - growing up in a world where there are more questions than answers, the cycle of nature, and finding the beauty in our surroundings and the surreal. Is there a particular moment or theme in the film that you found most interesting or personally moving? If so, what was it and why?

  This film is completed when the viewer interprets it freely. It makes it interesting that the interpretations differ. That indicates diversity. Everyone is part of this world. I think it would be wonderful if we can acknowledge our differences yet share the same awareness. I believe this film gives a clue to how we should exist while depicting the mysteries and joys of life.

    Was there any additional scenes or stories you’d like to have incorporated from the manga into the movie that didn’t make it in?

  There are many scenes that didn’t make it. I wish I could have included them. Especially the background of Umi and Sora, Anglade and Jim’s past, etc. It would be great if we can depict them in Children of the Sea 2, but this project only exists in my heart. Jokes aside, we made it so that the stories we couldn’t include in the film would be shown in the manga, so it would be great if you can read the manga as well. 

  Any last words you’d like to share to Western fans?

  I’m excited that everyone will get to see the film. How you interpret the film is up to you. Please watch it with an open mind and accept the story as it is first. I would be happy if you enjoy it. And I would love to hear your thoughts.

  Children of the Sea can be watched on Netflix, Google Play, Apple TV, Amazon Prime, and is available for purchase via Blu Ray/DVD by GKIDS. Our thanks to GKIDS for the opportunity. 

  Got a favorite Ayumu Watanabe work? Enjoyed Children of the Sea? Leave your comments below!

      When not finding ways to doom all her ships, Natasha can often be found on her twitter as @illegenes, or writing more about anime on the blog Isn’t It Electrifying! Feel free to swing by and say hi.

  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!

[umberleedevoted]

#14 The Drowning

The pair walked into the oppressively dripping cavern side by side. Only accompanied by darkness and a small oil lantern.  One figure thin and graceful, the other slender but still strong. Their forms covered by thick,simple, hooded canvas robes. Water dripped from the roof of the cavern- the only noise to cut the silence.

“I don't see why we need to wear these heavy-” The hand of the still silent figure landed a harsh open handed slap across the young blue skinned girl’s face- silencing her instantly. Her face contorted to that of shock, then anger than acceptance. With a single finger, her assailing companion motoned for silence by pressing that same finger to his pursed lips, and starring forward with his calm but stern expression.

The pair continued to walk the winding and curving natural corridors of the deep and seemingly endless cave. The young ladies face still felt warm where her companion had struck her. There was no mistake that this place was to treated with reverence. As they approached the opening to a chamber, seeing the opening foreyes of the wonder within; She thought back to her guides words at the mouth of the cave. “You’re going to drown. Today, in this cave,You will die.” 

The opening of the chamber was reminiscent of stepping out of a dark inn. Both figures shielded their eyes momentarily from the glare and sparkle that met them. An immense cavern, lit naturally with sparkelling walls of roughly worked abalone shell and crystals embedded directly into the rock. The cave itself was 60 feet across in any direction, with a lip around the edge of the cave. Just wide enough to walk around. The middle is where the glow faded. A dark pool of water lay at the bottom of a 20 foot drop. No movement, except for the occasional ripple current. Not seeming to possess a bottom. In the middle of this room, a place of beauty, lay the most frightening thing that the fearless watersoul had ever seen. There was no explanation as to why THIS pool of water was so evoking of primal, visceral fear. She felt like a bilge rat being trapped in the hull of a ship as it sinks. Lela was no novice to simming, diving, or any of the like. She had dived deep before. She had fought, and bled, and even almost died, all underwater; but this peaceful pool of black mirrored water- it made this hardened sailor feel like a mewling little girl.

“You’re going to drown. Today, in this cave,You will die.” 

Her companion’s deep voice rang in her head as she stand transfixed by the mirrored surface. 

“You’re going to drown. Today, in this cave, You will die.” 

It was then that Lela realized this voice was no longer in her head. She  turned from the pool to face her guide and felt a deceptively gentle two hands, push against her shoulders as she tripped backwards from the ledge and plummeted downward, breaking the seemingly malevolent surface of the pool.

The disorientation only lasted moments. Being a genasi who frequented the sea, Lela could navigate water and right herself quickly. She made a point to never open her eyes underwater. No concious reason drove her to do so, but her primal instinct of survival told her not surface. 

“What are you doing!?” She waded quickly to the wall, looking for a hand hold to climb out. The walls were smooth. 

“You’re going to drown. Today, in this cave, You will die.” He droned on again. 

“I can breathe the water you dolt! I’m a watersoul? What is the point? You wouldn’t let me ask questions!

“You’re going to drown. Today, in this cave, You will die.” 

“Help me out!” Her hand scrapped at the walls in a moment of genuine panic,  fruitless.

These unclimbable walls were not in fact perfectly smooth. As Lela got closer, she could see that there were grooves. shallow, impressions in the stone, about 4 feet above the water line, about a human finger width apart. 

Lela’s stomach dropped as she felt movement brush her ankle. 

“You whoreson!

The almost reverent repetition of his credo “You’re going to drown. Today, in this cave, You will die.” stopped and reverberated off the walls.

“Did you think it would be easy!?” The power to protect yourself! TO strike fear into whoresons and admirals! 

Lela bobbed silently, a lump growing in her throat as she felt the unnaturally cold water. As what she could now identify as soft kelp and seaweed swayed around her legs  with a slight current.

“Look at the walls Salt”

“1 in 10. 1 in 10 wave speakers survive this ritual. It’s not a jaunty swim, or your morning “floats.”! And if water breathing was all you needed, than 9 intiaties a cycle wouldn't die in a pool of bone & blood!”

“What's in here with me old man!”

“There's a current.”

“There's movement. I didn't prepare for a battle. “

Her neck tensed 

“Battle comes anyway, Salt!” he let out a soft chuckle “ honestly, i don't know what- if anything is in there with you. It opens to the deepest depths, it’s always different; the only thing the creatures of Umberlee know is that this is a feeding ground. Where they can gorge on the blood and meat of those who aren't strong enough to serve their mistress.”

Anger was rising in Lela. It replaced her fear. But the reprieve was short lived. She prepared what could have only been assumed to a scathing and witty response as she yelped, waved her arms reflexively, and disappeared under the water.

All she could do is scream. The seaweed had snaked its way around Lela’s form so completely that when it closed like a constrictor snake,she was completely trapped from the waist down. It pulled down with such force that her mouth and lungs filled with water. Luckily Lela’s planetouched heritage meant her only obstacle was the struggle, and not the encroaching lack of breathable oxygen. The seaweed pulled her deeper into the blackness. Not a detail was visible as she slapped in vain at her legs, praying for a solution.

Her only solution was to collect herself. She steeled her mind. The seaweed was only retrieving her, not causing and pain. Lela got the idea that this living plant could squeeze the life from her if it willed it so. She had been pulled so far; 1 minutes. 2 minutes. Most humanoids that couldn't breathe the water would have perished by now, if not by bursting lung than by sheer panic. She was so flustered and frightened that she couldn't remember a single prayer or spell to cast. Her only course of action was to  wait for the big reveal, and pray the seaweed would release enough for her to retrieve the diving dagger from her boot. 

What she glimpsed next through her squinting eyes made her pray for escape. The bottom of the chasm- all seaweed. Thick, waving, animated sheets of dark matter. Seaweed. The light was low, but this kelp forest had wide leaves. They bent towards her expectantly, and danced like the thousands heads of a mythical hydra. She feigned death, and went limp, hoping to  lure the creature into  false sense of security. What kind of hellish landscape was this dark, black kelp forest.

The seaweed slowed it’s pull on Lela as her limp body approached the sea floor. It cradled her like she was a newborn babe, gently swaddled in a plant or creature that could easily crush her like a robin’s egg.

Her eyes, tightly shut peaked open. She was on her back looking at the distant surface, what glimmer of light was receptacle was intermittently blocked by the silhouettes of waving foliage.

Movement. She could feel it circling her. Like a shark preparing to strike against an injured seal.Imperceivable while keeping up her possum routine; but instinctually, she knew it was there. 

Lela’s  heart raced when her unseen tracking of the creature lost track of the movement. She tried not to panic, and chanced opening her eyes.

That may have been a mistake…

Before her. Immediately before her. Only a kiss away- were two bright yellow humanoid eyes.The irises were burnt yellow, and Lela could no longer pretend to be unaware; but neither did she tense. She remained relaxed in the seaweed’s grasp, afraid any sudden movement would immediately send the creature into an attack. The form of a humanoid simply looked at her.-not at, but through. The inescapable detail: two, glowing orbs. There was an unmistakable intelligence behind these scrutinizing but soft eyes. Lela could only see the eyes, and wanted to study the entire creature. She felt herself relaxing and understood that the creature’s gaze was physically relaxing her. She fought against the reaction, recounting stories of sirens and mermaids and kelpies that would lure sailors to there- “Kelpies!” she kicked herself silently. 

Kelpies were beasts comprised of plants, seaweed, kelp, and the like. They would take the forms of steeds or attractive maidens, whatever the sailors wished to ride the most; and pull them into the silent depths. 

She internally pondered “I wonder if shes ever eaten a genasi before...” but immediately realized she had no idea what the kelpies did with their victims. She only knew that they were pulled under, and assumed they all drowned or were constricted until their struggling ceased to  matter. Humans and halflings couldn't breathe under water; not without considerable magical influence. She fought the calming effect of the creatures eyes. She fought the sound of the waves. She fought the cool water on her skin. 

While never breaking the gaze, she took her restrained hand and did her best to mime the gentle pantern of the waves, bringing it closer to her breast pocket. 

In one lightning fast motion she retrieved the dead glowfly from her material pouch and soundlessly whispered “lissht” to the waves. The ring on her hand illuminated with light like a torch. While a simple spell, the oppressive blanket of darkness was cut like a curtain.

There was the maiden. A woman of seaweed, drifting in the current. Lela only had the chance to study the figure for a second before the creature’s hypnotic eyes slammed shut and the beast retreated, long strands of seaweed trailing behind her. 

Lela was genuinely surprised. She expected that the sudden spell would surprise the beast, but not to retreat. She expected it to strike her, rending flesh, and polluting the water with her own blood, and by doing so, give her the opportunity to escape. 

But it retreated. Lela  bobbed there, in silence, not dismissing her light spell for fear it would summon the creature back.- but her prevailing expression was that of confusion. 

Lela was a swimmer and knew how to exhale to help herself from floating, afterall, she had no need for air. Like a flotation bladder she could fill her lungs with water to stay submerged- so she did. She floated just above the floor of kelp, afraid to make contact. She looked hard, but everything outside of her light was imperceptible: only silhouettes and ghosts of a wet and waving forest.

Heartbeats of long painful inaction. “I should retreat” was her initial thought, but she quickly dismissed it. “I refuse to lose”. Then, two glowing orbs appeared from around the kelp. Not a shapely humanoid form. But that of a long snout and powerful shoulders. A horse- at least the top half was. The bottom was trailing strands of kelp. It peaked at her and Lela remained still. It shook its head in what could only be considered and underwater whinny.

Its head came forward from 5 or more feet away:slowly. Those impossible eyes studied her. Lela’s hand had not left the hilt of her diving knife- tucked so neatly in her belt. If this creature moved too fast, or reeled back for an attack, than she would have no choice but to attack, but no attack came. 

Like a curious animal, it approached slowly, smelling the Genasi. First her face, then lingering on her amulet om umberlee, finishing with her belt packs.

Instinct took over. 

Her free hand slowly extended to the creature's snout. The  beast reflexively recoiled, but quickly met the touch of this invader’s blue hand. 

“I scared you.” 

Immeasurable time. Lela floated their, hand on snout.

“You thought I was food...” 

The beast stopped it’s investigation and withdrew to a few feet, cocking its head.

“Not food”. 

Not words, but the sentiment- projected into her mind. This thought was not Lela’s own- and she understood.

“Nest Fashile” she said. The rough primordial translation for “not food”. 

The excited kelpie whinnied and pushed it’s head into Lelas hand. She absently pet the monstrous beast’s snout as it reacted like a favored cat or young child. 

Lela’s mind was reeling. 

“This grotto is massive, and you act so young. You can’t be this big bad test…”

 and with that thought came the young Kelpies retreat.

The young creatures retreat was not so much as Lela’s labored communication, but at the small meaty tentacles that were invading the cavern from a small opening behind both Lela’s back….

#14 #lela #lela salt #avalon #genasi #narrative #d&d #dungeons and dragons #umberlee

[sphynxbeam5-blog]

Enjoyable For Every person - Fun Issues to Do in Miami

There are hundreds of family-oriented items to do in Miami, and you can find something that everybody in your loved ones will get pleasure from. Or you can uncover a different activity for every day of your trip, one particular special day for every member of your household to do the things they like to do. If you are hunting for a calming trip, there are many parks and beach locations the place you can sunbathe, swim, and even just take component in drinking water sports, this kind of as para-sailing and water snowboarding. Wander together the several trails and find out about the flora and fauna in the area. Take in all the sights and sounds of Miami nature and wildlife when you check out the parks and beaches, including Miami Seashore and South Beach front. In addition to shorelines and parks, there are all kinds of family-themes pursuits in and close to Miami. Some of the areas you must go to on your next journey to Miami consist of: Everglades Nationwide Park - For a entertaining working day of nature, just take the loved ones to the Everglades Countrywide Park, where you will discover the Bobcat Boardwalk, a quarter-mile path that is straightforward for walkers of all ages. Don't overlook to consider the two-hour tour of the park, the place you will get to see plenty of wildlife, like birds and alligators. Gold Coast Railroad Museum - Any person who is fascinated in the history of trains will really like the reveals right here. There are numerous historic practice autos on screen, a design teach show that is remarkable to watch in motion, a practice for kids to engage in with, and even teach rides at certain occasions of the day. Miami Kid's Museum - There are many interactive displays that children can touch and have enjoyable with, and every thing here is manufactured just for kids. The base flooring homes a town comprehensive with a bank, fireplace station, vet clinic, grocery keep, healthcare facility and even a television station, all kid-sized. There is even a kid-sized rock climbing wall for the more adventurous. Miami Science Museum & Room Transit Planetarium - You will discover all types of interactive displays for older youngsters right here, every day planetarium shows and a wildlife centre outside, which has birds, turtles, snakes and other reptiles. There are often different temporary displays on screen, so you can visit every time you are in Miami and often see one thing distinct. Zoos - Typically, zoos are the only location that several individuals are likely to see specific species of animals. You will discover some gorgeous zoos in Miami that residence numerous intriguing and exotic animals, and there are even some options to get up near and individual with some of the animals. Some of the zoos and animal attractions you need to see when vacationing in Miami are: Miami Metrozoo - There are a lot more than 1,200 animals at this zoo, divided into the geographic areas that they come from, like Australia, Asia, Africa and The usa. Feed giraffes at the feeding station, or hire a Safari Cycle and see the lovely koalas. Miami Seaquarium - See whale and dolphin exhibits through the day, and get a stroll by way of the park, exactly where you will uncover manatees, crocodiles, sharks, sea turtles, parrots, deer and numerous much more animals. You can also book the journey of a life span and get a swim with the dolphins. Jungle Island - Day-to-day animal demonstrates will entertain the two youthful and outdated at this park, which was once named Parrot Jungle Island. Not only do the animal shows characteristic vibrant parrots, they also include numerous other animals, such as tigers. See all types of reptiles in the Serpentarium, which is property to Crocosaurus, the biggest crocodile in the New Planet. Older children and adults will enjoy going down the 168-foot Hippo Slide. Miami Eating places If you are seeking for good eating, Miami has eating places to go well with everyone's preferences. Miami is extremely effectively recognized for its wide array of dining places, and no matter what kind of food you may possibly wish, be it good dining, ethnic, or a just take-out handle, it is offered in Miami restaurants. Some of the most popular eating spots in Miami consist of: Emeril's Miami Seashore - Anybody seeking for wonderful Cajun foodstuff will not be let down when they check out Emeril's Miami Seaside, owned by the globe-popular Emeril Legasse. This is a wonderful cafe for the two enterprise and pleasure, and will also make a excellent romantic night for two. https://lavsguide.com/top-things-to-do-in-miami-fl/ - This restaurant has been all around considering that 1912, and if you are seeking for a great greasy burger with all the fixings, you need to check out Tobacco Highway. And although you consume, you can enjoy some remarkable blues songs from some of the very best musicians about. Shorty's Bar-B-Q - Below is a restaurant that does not have all the bells and whistles but it does have some darned excellent barbecue. And the rates are genuinely lower, so you will be ready to feed your complete loved ones, even on a limited funds. Joe's Stone Crabs - This is a wonderful seafood area that has been in procedure considering that 1913, and is open during crab time (Oct 15 by way of Might fifteen). Positioned at South Seashore, this is the spot to go if you are looking for a excellent meal of stone crab. Azul - If you and your honey are in the mood for a romantic evening meal for two, you will get pleasure from Azul, positioned in the Mandarin Oriental Resort on Brickell Key. Enjoy the check out of the h2o and the Miami skyline as you get pleasure from a delightful meal. The Palm - Steak lovers will get pleasure from the dishes that are obtainable on the menu at The Palm, in which you will also find delicious lobster and other delicacies. Will not forget to have some of the cheesecake for dessert, which is flown in all the way from New York for that reliable flavor. The Big Tomato - Are you a pizza connoisseur? If you are, then you have to attempt the pizzas at the Massive Tomato, the place you will discover Chicago deep-dish pizza loaded with California toppings. Anacapri Italian Cafe - You will locate some extremely delicious Italian foods below, and you don't have to costume up, unless of course of system you want to. There is also an Italian market place hooked up to the Anacapri Italian Cafe, in which you can buy your own pastas, meats and cheeses. This is a popular place, so it is a great concept to make a reservation.

[vorldfacts-blog]

There is 10 times more fresh water in the atmosphere than in all the rivers on Earth combined, and 50 times more trapped in the soil. Earth is known as the "Blue Planet" because 71 percent of the Earth's surface is covered with water. Water also exists below land surface and as water vapor in the air. Water is a finite source. The bottled water that is consumed today might possibly be the same water that once trickled down the back of a wooly mammoth. The Earth is a closed system, meaning that very little matter, including water, ever leaves or enters the atmosphere; the water that was here billions of years ago is still here now. But, the Earth cleans and replenishes the water supply through the hydrologic cycle. The earth has an abundance of water, but unfortunately, only a small percentage (about 0.3 percent), is even usable by humans. The other 99.7 percent is in the oceans, soils, icecaps, and floating in the atmosphere. Still, much of the 0.3 percent that is useable is unattainable. Most of the water used by humans comes from rivers. The visible bodies of water are referred to as surface water. The majority of fresh water is actually found underground as soil moisture and in aquifers. Groundwater can feed the streams, which is why a river can keep flowing even when there has been no precipitation. Humans can use both ground and surface water. Ocean water: 97.2 percent Glaciers and other ice: 2.15 percent Groundwater,: 0.61 percent Fresh water lakes: 0.009 percent Inland seas: 0.008 percent Soil Moisture: 0.005 percent Atmosphere: 0.001 percent Rivers: 0.0001 percent. Surface water is far easier to reach, so this becomes the most common source of potable water. About 321 billion gallons per day of surface water is used by humans. About 77 billion gallons of groundwater are used each day. Problems also exist in contamination of the water supplies. This further limits the amount of water available for human consumption. Water is found in many different forms. #H2O #reflection #splash #wet #drop #purity #nature #ripple #water #bubble #motion #cold #clean #liquidity #desktop #clear #wave #noperson #liquid #drink #tags #ultralabapps #instahash

#h2o #clean #liquid #drop #desktop #tags #noperson #reflection #purity #motion #splash #ultralabapps #wet #clear #ripple #bubble #cold #nature #water #drink #wave #instahash #liquidity

[classyfoxdestiny]

Saving California’s kelp forests

Saving California’s kelp forests

Special report

California’s underwater forests have suffered a devastating decline. Now, the race is on to save them before it’s too late.

Watch the documentary

Watch our special report on how an army of purple urchins has decimated these ecosystems, threatening the marine life that depends on them and the ocean’s ability to help fight climate change. But there is hope.

00:13:28

Beneath the surface of the Pacific Ocean, where the cold California current sweeps down from British Columbia, lies a hidden forest of once-astonishing beauty. Known as “the sequoias of the sea” for their rich biodiversity and carbon storing prowess, the kelp forests of Northern California were home to hundreds of marine species, including whales, seals, octopuses and sharks — until recently.

Now they’re the scene of a plague, an invasion and a mass deforestation.

A marine heat wave in 2013 set in motion a series of events that would ravage the forest and destroy the habitat for much of that sea life.

First, warm waters are thought to have helped spread a disease that devastated the population of huge sunflower starfish that lived among the kelp. Then, without this voracious predator to control their numbers, purple sea urchins spread unchecked, feasting on the kelp forest and leaving behind a barren moonscape. Just 5% of the kelp forest remains.

The drama unfolding along this coast is what experts are calling a “climate-driven catastrophe” — one example of how global warming is threatening not only the health of the ocean and the marine life within it but its ability to absorb carbon and help regulate climate change.

The loss is so alarming, it’s mobilized a coalition of researchers, non-profits, urchin divers and others in a desperate race to protect the last remaining kelp forests and rebalance the ecosystem before it’s too late.

Kelp forest locations around the world

Modeled global distribution of the kelp biome

Touch and drag map to move

Kelp forests span nearly 25% of the world’s coastlines, with some of the most prolific found in the waters of South Africa, New Zealand and Australia, and along the west coast of the Americas.

“Kelp forests cover 360 million acres around the world, which is a footprint that’s five times larger than tropical coral reefs,” says Tom Dempsey, director of the California oceans program for The Nature Conservancy. “Like those coral reefs, kelp (forests) are the essential foundation for ocean health and resilience. They support a number of ecosystems and thousands of species from invertebrates to fish, seals and whales.”

Kelp is the world’s largest marine plant, reaching heights of up to 35 meters (115 feet). It flourishes in the cold, nutrient-rich waters and powerful swell of California’s famous surf. Growing up to two feet per day, it’s one of the fastest-growing organisms on Earth and one of its most productive habitats.

Research shows that macroalgae or seaweeds worldwide, including kelp, store an estimated 173 million metric tons of carbon every year — equivalent to the annual CO2 emissions of 160 coal-fired power plants — most of which is deposited in the deep sea, permanently removing it from the atmosphere and helping to fight climate change. But all is not well with the world’s kelp forests.

Areas where kelp forests have experienced decline

These regions of decline represent surface canopy-forming kelp.

South Austalia Tasmania South Africa Central Chile Southern Norway North Sea Celtic Sea Scotian Shelf Gulf of Maine North-Central California Puget Sound Southern Aleutian Islands

Touch and drag map to move, tap on the dots to see the locations

Hover over the dots to see the locations

Pollution, climate change and overfishing have taken their toll on kelp worldwide. Some areas are experiencing extreme losses — Tasmania has lost over 95% of its giant kelp canopy and Norway’s coast has lost 80% of its kelp in recent decades. But few places have been as badly hit as Northern California.

In 2014, a giant expanse of warm water, which had gathered off the coast of Alaska the previous year, expanded all the way down the west coast to Mexico. Nicknamed “the blob,” this marine heat wave wreaked havoc on ocean ecosystems over the following two years, spurring harmful algal blooms and killing sea life like fin whales, sea otters and salmon.

While marine heatwaves can occur naturally, research has linked “the blob” directly to human-induced global warming. Its impacts have been devastating. California’s north coast has lost approximately 95% of its kelp canopy since 2014 over a 350-kilometer (217-mile) stretch of coastline, according to a recent study by researchers at the University of California, Santa Cruz.

Kelp systems are dynamic, often impacted by storms or cyclical weather systems like El Niño. Turnover is high but those watching kelp over the past decade have noticed this is not the usual boom-and-bust cycle.

“What we’re seeing right now, particularly up on the north coast, is fundamentally different,” says Dempsey. “We are seeing a climate-driven catastrophe with massive impacts to the ecology of that system, as well as the kelp-dependent communities up in the north coast and the larger state economy.”

He estimates that the kelp forests on the northern coast of California are worth hundreds of millions of dollars a year in terms of storm protection, carbon sequestration, fisheries services and tourism. Now, they have been laid to waste by purple sea urchins.

A native species, purple urchin populations exploded after one of its last remaining predators, the sunflower starfish, succumbed to a mass die-off starting in 2013. This army of ravenous purple urchins has eaten almost all the kelp, their primary food source, and created an expanse of urchin barrens — swathes of prickly, purple orbs as far as the eye can see.

Along the whole California coast, people are experimenting with different methods for removing urchin barrens. Southern California has seen these areas expand over the past century due to overfishing and a decline in the populations of other urchin predators. When The Bay Foundation, a non-profit environmental group based in Santa Monica, first started working on its Palos Verdes site near Los Angeles, purple urchin numbers had reached up to 100 per square meter — a healthy ecosystem usually has two.

“They were everywhere, they were on top of each other,” says Heather Burdick, The Bay Foundation’s director of marine operations. “It was terrifying to swim over it because you’re just afraid that you’re going to get spikes all over your body every time you’re doing surveys.”

These purple urchins have been described by researchers as “zombie-like” because they can survive in a starved state by lowering their metabolic rate, living for up to 50 years off algae that grows on rocks on the seafloor. In this state, with their insides shrunk to almost nothing, these starved urchins have no commercial value to divers and no nutritional value to other predators, which consequently ignore them.

The Bay Foundation hires local urchin divers to cull the almost empty purple urchins by smashing them with a hammer and leaving their shells to biodegrade, returning their nutrients to the seabed. While this may sound like an extreme form of conservation, the organization’s CEO, Tom Ford, says it is necessary given the lack of predators and the fact that urchin barrens don’t easily transition back to kelp forests.

Since 2013, they have helped restore 57 acres of kelp forest in the region through culling. Within a few months of starting the process, giant kelp had started to grow back and now the forest is thriving. “Just being able to swim under that canopy of kelp that didn’t exist in 2014 … it’s like a magical cathedral,” says Burdick.

Partly funded by non-profit Sustainable Surf’s SeaTrees program, it also provides an income for local urchin divers. With purple urchin populations demolishing the kelp, little food was left for more commercially valuable species like red urchins and abalone, forcing some local fisheries to close.

Purple urchins are much smaller than their red cousins and traditionally haven’t been worth fishing, until now. Enter the urchin ranchers.

Tap left and right to see some of the species that live in the kelp forest. Keep scrolling to continue reading the article.

Navigate left and right to see some of the species that live in the kelp forest. Keep scrolling to continue reading the article.

Known as “California gold,” the state’s red sea urchins are a local specialty and renowned worldwide for their sweet taste. The gonads, or roe, are served in high-end restaurants across the globe going by their Japanese name — “uni.”

With red urchins in decline in California, a group of divers and entrepreneurs are looking for ways to make it economically viable to remove purple urchins. Santa Barbara urchin divers Stephanie Mutz and Harry Liquornik have teamed up with Doug Bush, the owner of a local aquaculture farm, to turn the worthless purple urchins into a sellable product.

Mutz and Liquornik fish for purple urchins off Santa Barbara’s Channel Islands and bring them to Bush’s farm, The Cultured Abalone, where he feeds them sustainably harvested seaweed for around 12 weeks until they have fattened up — a method referred to as “ranching.”

Bush says the ranched urchins are better quality than those found even in healthy kelp forests — on average 19 out of 20 ranched urchins will be full of roe.

“We essentially go from an empty shell to a little vessel full of delicate, perishable goodness in the space of about 12 weeks,“ Bush says. Mutz and Liquornik then sell the urchins directly to consumers and restaurants through their company, Sea Stephanie Fish. Bush says the response from foodies and chefs so far “has just been spectacular.”

A company doing this on a more global scale is Urchinomics, which has established urchin ranching facilities in California, Norway and Japan — all regions with widespread urchin barrens. It expects its first batch of commercially ranched urchins to go on sale in Japan at the end of July.

Some are skeptical that urchin fishing or culling can have a real impact on the scale of the urchin barrens, but Urchinomics founder and CEO Brian Tsuyoshi Takeda wanted to provide a “commercially driven, scalable solution” that could channel more funding into kelp restoration than traditional grants or philanthropy.

“We chose to build a restorative business model because we figured we as humanity have dug a hole sufficiently deep for ourselves that sustainability alone isn’t going to get us out of it,” says Takeda. “We built the entire business model around the idea that the more we profit, the better the environment becomes.”

The company hires commercial divers to fish the urchins and is working with conservation organizations like The Bay Foundation to ensure their efforts are targeted towards restoration. “We’re kind of like the economic motor that funds kelp restoration through the removal of urchins,” says Takeda.

But for restored kelp forests to thrive in the long-term, one thorny issue needs to be resolved — predators.

A colossus amongst sea stars, the sunflower starfish grows up to three feet (1 meter) wide, with over 20 arms and is one of the most voracious predators in the ecosystem. Found only from Alaska to Baja California, Mexico, sunflower sea stars swallow their prey whole, feasting on a diet of mussels, crabs, sea cucumbers, snails and sea urchins — helping to keep the populations in check.

Gliding along the seabed at surprising speed on their 15,000 tiny feet, these alien-like creatures “strike fear into organisms that they encounter,” says Jason Hodin, research scientist at Friday Harbor Laboratories, a research post of the University of Washington. “You can see organisms basically fleeing as they approach.”

Once abundant on the west coast of the United States, they succumbed to an epidemic of sea-star wasting syndrome starting in 2013 — a disease that makes their bodies melt into a pile of goo.

The event has been described by researchers as one of the largest marine die-offs ever recorded, killing what Hodin estimates to be a billion sea stars — including 90% of the entire sunflower sea starfish population, which are now listed as critically endangered. While the disease had been present in sea stars before 2013, researchers have linked the warming water temperatures at the time to the rapid spread and high mortality rate of the disease.

In partnership with non-profit The Nature Conservancy, Hodin and a team of researchers are working on the first-ever sunflower starfish captive breeding program, at their labs on San Juan island, off the coast of Seattle. In April, they announced the graduation of dozens of juvenile sea stars from larval stage to a mini sea stars, giving hope that they will survive to adulthood.

The eventual goal is to release them into the wild and help restore the lost populations, offering one natural solution to controlling purple urchin numbers, although Hodin is keen to stress this will need collective buy-in from state, federal, conservation and community organizations along the west coast.

Despite the daunting scale of the damage to these underwater forests, those involved in the rescue effort remain hopeful, in part due to kelp’s incredible ability to bounce back.

“It can be really hard to take a clear-eyed look at all of that without a deep sense of sadness, but this is something that we can solve,” says Dempsey. “If we harness the innovation and science and technology and market solutions that are close at hand and aim them at solving this big conservation challenge, we can do it. We can see that happen in our lifetime and that would be an immense achievement.”

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