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bitchfitch · 1 year

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Marnie and John are on my mind right now, mostly just because I'm chewing on how funny their sorta tangential relationship to the mers is.

Like, They both meet this intern within a few minutes of each other and this intern is like Weirdly good at hearing the nuance in an alien language that's basically just whale song and and can translate it with an excessive degree of accuracy no one else has been able to. It's not even his first day, they haven't actually gotten to the research station yet.

One of the fuck off giant alien mermaids takes a liking to him and begins following the ship around. It's fun to tease him about the mermaid having a crush on him Right up until it exceedingly obvious the giant alien mermaid Does Actually have a crush on him and isnt going to play nice if he doesn't come hang out with him. and it's a Touchy situation because on one hand. They don't know the level of sapience these fish are working with. They suspect something that's at least near to human level? but they can't confirm that. On the other a small whale regularly ramming your vessel and threatening to sink smaller collection boats (which double as the lifeboats, they're Very important) is Bad. And it's unclear what is the Ethical thing to do in that situation because he is posing an immediate threat but he might also be a person so like. What Are You Going To Do besides just put the intern he's sweet on in harm's way to keep the big fucker entertained and helping out.

And then they get to the island the research station is on and everyone thinks the mermaid will get bored and leave eventually. but he doesn't. one of the beaches is just his beach now. He's Extremely aggressive and breaks shit if he doesn't get visits from the intern. and like. it's the closest look basically anyone has managed to get at one of these things and he's tolerant enough of the intern to let him take cheek swabs and draw blood and take vitals and such. So like. Again pros and cons. Furthering the understanding of this actual alien? good. Potentially letting an alien eat the intern? bad.

The mermaid goes so far as to start teaching the intern bits and pieces of its language bc the whale song sounding stuff is more akin to yodeling in its purpose than an actual spoken tongue. it's for shouting and being heard from far away. So Again. This is something that Probably on par with a human but itll do tricks for frozen grapes and will with no hesitation act like a beast because he Genuinely has no interest in being friendly to anyone Besides the intern. And they still haven't figured out what about the fucking intern is so enthralling to him

Anyways. The season ends and the researchers are leaving to go back to earth to wait out the hurricanes that ravage that hemisphere throughout it's equivalent of spring and summer. and it's heartbreaking watching this massive asshole who's been a thorn in their sides since they got here mope along beside the ship on the way back to the portal.

They all go home and there's still so many damned questions. The intern is now full time translating recordings and explaining the language but there's so many elements that most people Physically can't hear. They're too high pitched. and adjusting the pitch to make them audible screws up the Rest of the recording because of how it flattens everything out and makes it impossible to tell certain elements apart. and the Details Matter. So this intern is Still the only person capable of hearing everything and being able to make heads or tails of it even After they figured out that sub 25yos can usually hear the higher tones bc of how the ear works it's just impossible to parse them if you aren't already Used to parsing them.

Anyways. Fall rolls around and everyone is back out on the boat to return to the alien water world. That winter goes about the same as the last but the intern is Acting weird and cagey now. He and the mermaid keep disappearing for hours at a time and then for whole days. It's not like. Hard to guess what they're getting up to. The intern is getting to see things no other human has and is probably meeting way more mers and learning a lot more about the culture than he's letting on. and tensionsbare starting to run a little high. he's withdrawing a lot more and the translations are getting inconsistent. He's intentionally omitting things and mistranslating entire recordings. He stops trying to get the mermaid to be friendly.

spring is here and the storms are brewing. it's time to go home again. The intern is acting business as usual, for the most part. he's cold and quiet and shaking a lot. Everyone just assumes he's going to miss whatever he's found here. The mermaid follows the ship to the portal again he's agitated and staying back.

The portals take a Massive amount of energy. their batteries are the size of small buildings and require entire nuclear generators to be entirely devoted to them. Once a portal is open it can only remain open for a few minutes and it will not be openable again for months. That's just the reality of the situation.

The portal is opened. They cross through. The intern isnt aboard when they dock. Security cam footage caught the moment he jumped over board but there wasn't a clear enough view of the water to know if he sank swam or got caught.

The waterworld is not suitable for humans. there's not a single drop of fresh water anywhere on the planet. They might never know what happened to him.

Spring turns to summer the summer to fall. It's time to board again.

The mermaid doesn't follow them. there's not even a sighting of him. The intern was liked. He was sweet natured and always eager to help. Curious and charming in an awkward way and the sort of person who older researchers looked at and just knew he had a future brighter than most would ever dream to have.

Everyone was hoping he'd be at the station. That the mermaid would be on his beach. He wasnt.

The door's lock was bashed open. security cam footage showed the intern visiting the station a few times in the spring. Stealing this or that and on a pair of occasions doing something with the computers but destroying the logging files before he shut them off again to prevent anyone from being able to know what exactly it was he did. Everything was backed up many times over so they know he didn't add or destroy anything. Just looked.

He was never seen on any of the ocean cameras but the mermaid was. usually traveling with another of his kind who had only started to be spotted last winter. but never was he seen with the intern

They comb through all the security footage. It's been months since there was last any sign of him. They assume the mermaid finally got bored. Someone jokes that they don't know if they hope he ate the intern nice and quick or if he died from exposure or drowning without knowing that kind of betrayal. no one laughed.

Research continues. everyone is a lot more wary of the mermaids and the mermaids seem more aware of the cameras and microphones. avoiding them and quieting anytime they were near enough to one they might be heard.

It's the day before the portal is going to be opened again.

The mermaid beaches himself, alongside another. More are circling out in the water. It's largest number of mermaids in one place anyone had seen before. There's a lot of uncertainty and fear. Until someone spots him. The intern is on the beach. his hair is a tangled mess and his wet suit has seen many better days. but he's there. full faced, rosy cheeked, a few shades darker from spending so much time in the sun. He looks worried, but fine. Healthy and alive.

He waits with the mermaids until Marnie is sick and tired of the higher ups bickering about what to do. She stomps out to demand to know what's going on, John following close behind because fuck man, that's his Friend he thought was Dead.

The intern hugs them both. he smells exactly like you'd expect a man whos spent a year in the ocean would.

He tells them everything he kept hidden. The mermaids are people. They don't want their home invaded, they don't want their waters made into a laboratory or filled with pollution and rot. They're far more advanced than they had been letting on. They will fight if they must, but they don't want to. Peace is an option.

The humans needed a pair of portals powered by top of the nuclear reactors. The mermaids didn't. they weren't going to be sharing that secret yet.

They did share one though. The mystery mermaid, not the one who'd been spotted over the last year, a different one who'd been seen many times for at least a decade. He introduces himself. in full English sentences, mangled as they were by an inhuman tongue. As does the big one who'd started this all. He could understand English just fine too. He just didn't like talking. Especially not to people he wasn't particularly fond of. Especially not when it was much funnier to play dumb.

The new mermaid gets a chuckle out of that and moves on to the actual important topic at hand. the mermaids have chosen the intern as their ambassador. They want peace. They want more than that. Their home is vast, they can share some if humans share with them as well.

The intern says he's already spoken with some people on the other side of the portal, but needed help proving that really was him. So he gives them each a word to carry home for him. Promises to see them again. and then says good bye. He leaves with the mermaids, carried away by the big fucker who was never very nice but now they all knew had been just fucking with them that entire time.

It's a bittersweet but hopeful goodbye

The absolute last thing the two of them ever expected to see when they got back to earth that next day was the intern and a tall, broad shouldered, mute stranger with a familiar glint in his eye.

John asks him if he'll still do tricks for grapes and gets shoved into the water for it.

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greenxprof · 4 months

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Green had an awful time after Red (and Giovanni) was kidnapped by a ghostly train. He didn't even have time to try to stop or open it; once more seeing his best friend and boyfriend disappear before his eyes as he was left with his hands tied.

Joining Celeste would just slow down Asterope. He could only send Data, his porygon, to join them; and be left to a painful ride on a normal ass express train.

It kills hims not being able to do anything. Specially because, in the past, when he could, he didn't.

Thankfully, they were alive; although hurt. He knows Red is strong and nothing in this world can down him, but he starts to wish Red didn't need to fight or suffer anymore.

.. ....

Arven Seemed excited to sync with Iron Thorns, a smaller and brighter Tyranitar. Rika immediately ran to Iron Bulwark, extremely similar to the one they had to drown, albeit much, much calmer.

He was left with the gigantic bat, same one they fought inside the whale ship. Its wings are enormous, although apparently they don't flap it when flying.

He doesn't mind it; the more help they get, the better. But when syncing, silence was everything he got. Disappointing, because he was hoping he could talk to a paradox pokémon without the help of an interpreter.

Still, it matters little. This guys seems perfect to mount on and fly with. Perfect also to handle good hits and deliver good attacks.

With a sigh, this Iron Sonar reminds him of Data. Back when he got it from the game corner, the pokémon was pretty much just a Machine. It wasn't like his other pokémon, full of personality, shy or extrovert.

But Data is slowly growing a personality of its own. It likes to be useful, it likes getting treats. He knows; a bit of care is enough for a small seed to start growing.

Iron Sonar will be the Echo of his wish to be useful, his wish to save the world alongside everyone. The wish to redeem himself for his cowardice of the past.

#area zero dive !#leo green

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a-luran · 1 year

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Shipwreck AU

In the 1800s, Alasdair is the medical officer of a whaling ship and he has all the problems he could ever possibly think of.

But on top of them all is Arthur, First Mate and a thorn on Alasdair's side. They maintain a careful balance to keep their antagonism under the Captain's radar, but a storm one night causes their ship to go under and for Alasdair, Arthur and a few men of their crew to work together to survive.

They manage to find a small uninhabitable island and their antagonism quickly changes into comraderie - or something more?

I love this so much and this AU is so golden anon. I can see the depths in this and would hear you talk about it at length if you'd like to.

#scoteng #freagradh #hws england #hws scotland #aph england #aph scotland #sometimes i look at anons longingly and wonder who are you friend come out of the depths

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castershellwrites · 11 months

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Day 7 of EnHoEn Shark Week

@enhoenbigbang A day late posting this, but it's day 7 of Shark Week ... on day 8 XD This is actually a sequel to Day 5's pirate AU. Hope you all enjoy it ^_^ Fic under the cut.

Captain Enji staggered as the deck swayed below him. He had sea legs—had them ever since he was a cabin boy in the navy—but sea legs didn’t do anything when the deck was near vertical and trying to drop him into the drink. His first mate, Hawks, clung to the railing that should have been on his left but was now above his head.

“Captain!” Burnin called from the door belowdecks, “We’ll damn near capsize in this!”

Enji slid down, towards the dark churning depths nearly touching the side of his ship, and caught himself on the main mast. “Steady on! Drive us into the waves! She’ll hold!” He shouted the commands with practiced ease. He knew Burnin would obey.

His crew was loyal to him. They had been even after Enji, in the form of a shark, rescued them from their stranding following another disastrous storm. The shapeshifting powers came as more of a surprise to him than anyone else.

The bad weather was becoming a bit of a theme.

“I’ll solve this!” Hawks shouted as the deck came level once more. He raced across the slick boards to press a kiss to Enji’s lips. He went to race off but Enji grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Hawks, it’s rough out there.” He didn’t dare ask his lover to be careful, Hawks would laugh in his face. What he said instead was, “Come back to me.”

“Always will, big guy. You’re my guiding star in the storm.” Hawks kissed him once more, all teeth and tongue. He pulled away when the deck swayed once more, using the angled plane to gain momentum for a jump over the rails.

In midair Hawks took his true form, a hammerhead shark, and cut swiftly into the wine dark sea. He barely made a splash, and in that instant he was gone.

Enji secured the line that he’d come out to take care of in the first place, then made his way to the helm where Onima and Kido struggled against the storm to keep their course. Despite the storm raging, the ship remained level. Something buffeted them whenever they swayed too far to one side or the other. Eventually the worst of it cleared.

Enji walked the deck and called Burnin to relieve her mates. She took the helm with a hearty pat to her lovers’ backs to see them on their way. As the pair staggered towards the cabins and their bunks they leaned over the railing and gasped in awe.

Enji joined them. Then immediately threw down a rope so Hawks could transform and take the deck once more. “Who are they?” He called down while Hawks climbed the knotted ladder with practiced ease.

“One For All!”

Enji groaned. The whale shark shifters that made up the crew of the ancient sunken ship One For All meant only one thing.

“Enji! My friend!” A booming voice roared across the deck.

Enji silently swore to keelhaul whoever had thrown All Might a rope. All Might, as he was now known, had been Toshinori Yagi when he was human, before One For All sank at the hands of All For One. Now he was the only other great white shark shifter Enji knew, and constant thorn in his side because of it; that and his insistence that he and Enji should be the best of friends because of their sharked shark forms granted by the ocean goddess.

“Play nice love, he did save our asses back there,” Hawks whispered and clung to his captain’s arm. Then he ensured good behavior with a promise licked into Enji’s ear. “If you’re a good boy I’ll give you a special reward later.”

Enji huffed and prepared to play nice. “Toshinori, my friend, would you like some tea? Perhaps some pants?”

#enhoen shark week #enhoen #my fanfiction #endhawks #hawksdeavor #enji todoroki #keigo takami

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progg · 2 years

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Longbao Conspiracy

In Chapter 390 of Hunter x Hunter, Zhang Lei refers to Onior Longbao as father.

While some have argued his thoughts are purely deferential or that he is actually referring to Nasubi, I believe Zhang Lei is actually Onior’s son. Zhang Lei being the son of Onior has some very interesting implications. Namely, it would suggest an extremely forethought plan by Onior to put his own blood on the Kakin throne.

ZHANG LEI AND MORENA PRUDO

Before outlining Onior’s plan, I’d like to point out the thematic evidence suggesting Zhang Lei is illegitimate. As a first order of business, let’s look at the similarities between him and Morena Prudo.

Both have very similar Nen abilities.

Zhang Lei and Morena both have group-based abilities that reward the good behavior of their subjects by granting them powers.

Not only that, but both powers implement numeric ‘level’ systems and, stay with me here, transmit their power by mouth.

Not to mention, the two numbers we have seen from Zhang Lei’s beast (1 and 10) are also important in Contagion.

Admittedly, this is probably a coincidence. We’ll have to wait to find out the details of Zhang Lei’s Spirit Beast.

However, the abilities differ in that Zhang Lei’s beast outputs a coin a day, while Morena’s power spreads at a rate solely based on the actions of her followers. These powers reflect their owner’s philosophies. Zhang Lei wants to remain in a position of power, dispersing his coins to worthy subjects and becoming a “great king”. He is patient and methodical, concerned mostly with the aftermath of the Succession War. Despite wanting to enforce the royal hierarchy, I get the sense Zhang Lei really cares about the well-being of his nation and even the world as a whole.

Morena, on the other hand, wants to destroy the royal hierarchy, utterly and completely. She is, in part, motivated by the Kakin practice of scarring bastards and making them second-class citizens. Morena’s subordinates are already causing problems on the lower levels of the Black Whale, but her actual approach is, like Zhang Lei’s, quite long-term. She believes her death on the ship is a foregone conclusion.

“But I like this scar. Without it… I would have slid closer to death… With this scar… I was able to perch on the razor’s edge. In order to destroy this dung heap of a world… I can keep trying just a little more…” – MORENA PRUDO, CHAPTER 378

So an addendum to her ability allows for her will to be inherited by a worthy (level 100) successor.

Morena’s ability functions as a true meritocracy, while Zhang Lei’s is more arbitrary. One is anti-classist, and the other is classist. Both plan far in advance, which is precisely what Nasubi claims is the key to winning the Succession War.

The proxy-war between Morena and Zhang Lei represents a class conflict that is thematically consistent with the story of the Phantom Troupe and the Kakin Empire itself. We often see people in positions of power abusing that power. The lower class (citizens of Meteor City, Gyro) are frequently the primary victims of that abuse. On the Black Whale, it’s the 180,000 passengers belowdecks who will become sacrifices for Nasubi’s Succession War.

Both are heavily associated with religious iconography.

Morena’s crown of thorns associates her with Abrahamic religion. Biblically, the crown of thorns was given to Jesus on the day of his crucifixion to mock his claim of kingship. The symbol of martyrdom also supports the idea that Morena is planning for her own death, believing in her ultimate goal above all things.

Morena is not the first character to be associated with Christianity either. Chrollo Lucilfer bears St. Peter’s cross and is followed by twelve apostles. Both character’s insist on their wills being carried out after death, and both characters hold destructive, anti-classist philosophies.

Zhang Lei’s design, on the other hand, is inspired by Eastern religion, namely Buddhism. In earlier chapters, he had elongated earlobes (these were later retconned). Most importantly, his Spirit Beast resembles a dharmachakra, or “wheel of dharma”. The wheel itself represents wisdom, knowledge, and insight, while the turning of the wheel can signify revolutionary change. This led to outstanding monarchs being referred to as chakravarti, or “wheel-turning kings”.

Both are associated with cosmic imagery.

Zhang Lei is associated with the sun, while Morena Prudo is associated with the moon. Chakras feature prominently as solar symbols, and Zhang Lei’s Spirit Beast is no exception. The Spirit Beast’s power also revolves around the concept of a day.

Morena’s ability is centered around the numbers 20-23, which have significance in astronomy. Specifically they represent the possible dates for equinoxes and solstices. 20 is the level at which Morena’s subordinates gain a new ability. 21 is the maximum number of murders required to reach level 20.

22 is the maximum number of infections allowed by Contagion, and the number of Morena’s followers. 23 is the former, but including Morena. And of course, Morena’s most prominent follower, Luini, sports a crescent moon scar.

This solar/lunar dichotomy first appeared with Chrollo’s stolen ability, sun and moon.

Note the plus (+) and minus (-) signs. They are similar to something else we’ve seen.

Whether this is significant remains to be seen. For me, the solar and lunar imagery is an extension of shadow and light, which has been an important theme throughout the entire series. You cannot have shadow without light, and vice versa. This sentiment is echoed by both Zhang Lei and Morena.

Now, these comparisons don’t necessarily mean Zhang Lei is the son of Onior, but they do indicate a thematic link between Zhang Lei and Morena.

THE SCARRED ROYALS

When Morena is introduced, special attention is given to the treatment of bastards by the Royal family, specifically the parallel incisions made on their faces. These scars are visible on the faces of the other mafia bosses, each in different locations.

The width of the scars matches how the razors are being held in the previous image. It’s a nice detail by Togashi.

Special attention is given to the practice of facially scarring illegitimate children, which I believe served to remind us of the illegitimacy of Onior and Brocco Li. In other words, Togashi was pointing us to the importance of illegitimacy, and the possibility of an unscarred bastard.

The scarred royals are said to be “illegitimate children of the King”, but Zhang Lei may not be a child of the king at all. Whether Nasubi expects the truth or not, questions of legitimacy are consistent with historical succession wars from which I believe Togashi is taking inspiration..

I want to take this time to point out the possibility of a Nen Beast being granted to an illegitimate heir. I don’t want to get too much into the mechanics of the Seed Urn here, but I will say I believe the rules stated by Nasubi’s butler, Nugui, are being superimposed on the urn as the conditions for the succession contest. It is very Togashi-like for the conditions of an ability to involve explaining the rules (think Genthru).

So, I don’t think it’s a coincidence we are specifically told participants must be children of Nasubi’s legal wives, rather than children of Nasubi.

This would seem to indicate Nasubi is aware of Zhang Lei’s illegitimacy and willfully allowed him to participate in the Succession War, but I don’t think that’s the case. While Nasubi may have suspected Zhang Lei was illegitimate at some point, I believe this rule shows he has now disregarded the possibility.

My primary reason for believing a conspiracy exists is that I don’t see the significance of Nasubi allowing illegitimate children to participate. It’s not very consistent with themes of family and legacy in the succession arc. If he’s unaware, however, it lends significance to Coventoba or some other party uncovering that secret.

Zhang Lei’s mother, on the other hand, must at least be aware of the possibility Zhang Lei is not Nasubi’s son. In fact, the most likely scenario is that Tang Zhao Li is in on the conspiracy to put a Longbao on the Kakin throne. As of Chapter 390, she is the only queen to be explicitly linked to the mafia of which her child is a benefactor.

As for why she would want to put a Longbao on the throne, remember that Nasubi’s outward-facing goal with the Dark Continent expedition is to reaffirm his status as a historic king. Zhang Lei’s bastardry, especially if he “wins” the Succession War, would have the opposite effect, tarnishing Nasubi’s legacy.

I expect to see some interactions between the queens and the mafia soon.

ZHANG LEI AND ONIOR LONGBAO

Going back to the panel in Chapter 390, there seems to be an implication of revelation.

This is suggested by the thought bubble outlines and the fact that they are separated and framed as they are (and the exclamatory delivery). That’s enough for me to believe Zhang Lei isn’t referring to Nasubi.

I also don’t believe his words are deferential for two reasons. Firstly, Zhang Lei and Onior don’t actually seem to have that close of a relationship.

And it would be difficult for them to have such a relationship anyway, as scarred royals are expected to remain outside of the public eye.

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, their philosophies are at odds with each other. Onior firmly believes the “haves should be separated from the have-nots”. Specifically, resources should be concentrated in the few, and the masses should get virtually nothing.

While Zhang Lei may believe fundamentally in hierarchical separation and classism…

…his actions show he is someone who is rather altruistic.

It’s Tubeppa who initially paints this picture of Zhang Lei, calling him indulgent. Because she is “smart”, we are inclined to believe her. But this is one of the things Togashi does very well: distinguishing between logical and emotional intelligence. Leorio lacks logical intelligence, but is able to completely unravel Kurapika’s character at the end of Yorknew City. Kurapika is one of the most logically intelligent characters in the series, but is unable to sort out his own emotions, much less the emotions of others (i.e. Pakunoda). So, we shouldn’t always believe what one character says about another. Zhang Lei is indulgent, but he is also altruistic. He is tolerant, but he is proud; kind, but cruel.

Shimano is another example of a character with high emotional intelligence.

If Zhang Lei saw Onior as a father figure, he would probably act very similarly to him, but he doesn’t. And this is why I believe the conspiracy is all about family and pride. Family is, after all, a important theme of the succession arc, as Oito explains:

THE LONGBAO CONSPIRACY

One interesting facet of Zhang Lei’s illegitimacy is the suggestion of a plan by Onior to ultimately win the last generation’s Succession War. The importance of waiting patiently is emphasized throughout the Succession Arc, first by Beyond Netero.

Then, by Nasubi.

And, finally, by Onior himself.

Intuitively, the main thing attributed to being a scarred royal is the fact that you can’t inherit the throne. While Morena has a very nihilistic viewpoint on the Succession War, her views would not be shared by the other bastards, who would be embittered by their status as “second-class citizens”. We learn that while Onior was aware of the Succession War, he was not completely informed of the details.

However, I propose he hatched a plan for his child to win the next Succession War as a legitimate participant. This probably involved conspiring with Tang Zhao Li, either before or after she became involved with Nasubi. And I believe this is one of the main ways the Succession War and mafia plotlines will connect. The presence of the Phantom Troupe may cause some friction in Kurapika and Zhang Lei’s alliance.

The Judicial Department will also probably be involved. An important component of Zhang Lei’s conversation with Onior is the fact the meeting is held in person. This is due to the presence of Benjamin’s spy, Coventoba.

There are other spies present, but Coventoba seems to be the main player here and the most likely to uncover Zhang Lei’s parentage.

There are two things team Benjamin can do with the information of Zhang Lei’s visit. The first is to perform some offensive action during that time. The second is to look into Zhang Lei’s visit and uncover what was discussed. If they find Zhang Lei is on the cusp of learning Nen, they may attempt to take him out before then. Let’s say, instead, they uncover Zhang Lei’s parentage. What could they do with this information? I believe uncovering the conspiracy will provide grounds for Zhang Lei’s detainment by the Judicial Department.

However, Zhang Lei has already put his hand in the Seed Urn and become a legitimate contender for the throne. Even if the Judicial Department confirms the rumors, they will not take significant action, nor will they want to. As Melody says, they have made themselves independent from the Kakin royalty, and Zhang Lei has committed no crimes (unlike his parents). They may even cite the very rules Nasubi put in place for his succession contest. But these are mostly tinfoil guesses at this point. There are too many mysteries surrounding Zhang Lei.

And ultimately the point of this post is to shed light on the conspiracy itself, not on Zhang Lei’s endgame. I have some ideas about that, but they’ll have to wait for another time.

Short version: Zhang Lei is the son of Onior Longbao and Tang Zhao Lei, who are involved in a long-term plot to seat their child on the Kakin throne.

#hunter x hunter #Zhang Lei #succession arc #theory #meta

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livvyofthelake · 1 year

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omg is that beth actually doing a thing she was tagged on whaaat that’s crazy. anyway tee @willoughbyblake tagged me and i have been slightly Offline today and haven’t truly had a good ramble so you’re getting it <3

last song I listened to: unholy sam smith and kim petras…. like your honor they slayed

three ships: first of all i am going to say my most beloved most special most important most interesting most perfect most fucked up most romantic most everything ever super special little guys. frankly if you can’t guess what i’m about to say i don’t think you’ve been paying attention for the past. year. girls have a renaissance of something they cared wayyy too much about from 12-15 and don’t ever shut the fuck up about it. anyway kit and ty. i’m normal about it all btw. um secondly i’ll say cordelia and james because i am in fact sitting here waiting for them to finally fucking kiss like real people do. third. i’ll try to think of something not written by cassandra clare. can i say liv and major i loveeee liv and major. oh shit i should have said beronica. ok whatever they can share the third space xoxo

currently reading: my babygirl chain of thorns. also where the crawdads sing (has read one page). also as always, in the middle of the goldfinch (frankly i don’t think that’s going anywhere). and still redacted (not even necessarily anything embarrassing i just don’t want to talk about it. i might cry. i’m normal about it. well i mean it’s not a hard redacted to decode given the past like 11 months i guess. i might have even told you all already that i was reading it. nvm don’t even worry about it idk what i’ve said. i would have started this in fucking july). and a study in scarlet (girls when they said they would read The Canon of sherlock holmes but haven’t quite cracked into that first book in any meaningful way yet). and then also reading guinevere choices, which counts. to ME <3 look ok they’re called books and you do read so like lay off

last movie I watched: in FULL the last movie i watched was the squid and the whale last night. which was okay, certainly not necessarily bad, however i do think noah baumbach should kill himself. that’s like unrelated to the quality of the movie though that’s just a general opinion coming from a committed I Hope Jakey Dies girl. and the last movie i watched NOT in full is that i’m currently watching picnic at hanging rock. happy valentines <3

craving: hmm. honestly. i literally just had a smoothie tonight (i deserved a treat) but i would kill for another smoothie. i love a good berry smoothie i love the strawberries i love the blueberries i love it all i love slurping that shit up i wish i could have a smoothie every single day of my life

um i’ll tag @certifiedloverdyke and @subarubajafanclub if you’d like 🫶

#guinevere choice does count as a book ok it’s just short and interactive and has pictures…#beth.txt

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books-of-the-great-leviathan · 2 years

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Chapter 28- Isabella

***

Wake up, Highness.

Isabella drifted.

A dark sea, and she was beneath it, suspended in water. Far away, high above, light flickered, faces, voices, all a shifting haze.

Dreams came. Her mother, dressed in blood. Her hands were red with it, her lips red, too, and where her eyes had been were nothing but pits. Forgive me, she whispered, but it was all too late. Too late for the dead.

Bring her out of it-

Not yet. The wounds...

She's strong. She'll be fine.

Sir, please-

Far away, waves broke and shattered into white spume. Sea breeze ruffled her hair. Overhead, seabirds circled: cloud gulls, scraps of white tossed against a pale blue sky.

Forgive me-

She drifted. She sank. Curled, her arms dappled in the dying shafts of sunlight that filtered to these depths. The water shifted, current against current, one moment a green like deepwoods gloom, the next dark as a moonless night. Her hair coiled and curled, and around her- inside her- whale-songs, the songs of a god, terrible and lonely. Below her, further down still, something vast cruised by, and the currents swelled in its wake.

She saw- in the sea, in the dark behind her eyes. Two little girls played amidst cedars and heartlain spilling over white stone terraces. Both were golden-haired, both dressed in the loose sapsilk gowns of children, not caring when the heartlain thorns snagged their hems. They laughed and pelted, clutching at one another. One was taller, her grin brighter; the other laughed too, but her smile was edged in desperation. Keep up, Sofie. Keep up. But she couldn't, and her sister ran faster, never letting her win.

She saw-

A skinny little boy, head bowed, turning a half-moon of broken scrimshaw over and over in his hands. Outside his hiding place were boots and drawn blades, the flash of light off silver Falcii badges. The boy drew his knees tighter to his chest, but that wasn't fear in his dark eyes.

Highness, wake up.

Further out:

A great storm front, lightning flickering through cloud.

Birds, countless black birds, riding the storm.

At its feet her sister, Cereza, hand to her heart, the Leviathan's power devouring her piece by piece. It's all right. Two ships, caught in the maelstrom. I'm not afraid. She lifted her head, and she flew.

Ghosts, howling in the storm. Ghosts everywhere. A flash of lightning on the horizon. The sea heaving as a storm came closer and closer, hurricane wind and churning shadow. A hand, opening, and all became so bright it hurt.

Bloody hands. Heartlain, sweet and bitter. A blade, a heart, a voice screaming again and again, forgive me-

Lightning arced to turn the sea to silver glass. Eyes that had once been gray, opened: blue as spellfire, blue as the summer sky.

Wake up.

***

Isabella woke to gulls.

They circled, raucous calls filtering down to her. A shutter thudded in the breeze, making lacework patterns across the marble tiles of her chamber floor.

Isabella blinked. The sun splintered through her lashes. Voices swam to her. She turned her head, trying to get a sense of her surroundings.

Pain lanced down her side, so bright and so hot she thought she might have passed out again. When she woke next, the pale blue sky was the deep gem brilliance of noon. The shutters had been closed, slats of light falling across her, across the white linens of her bedclothes, across the room. Her room, she recognized: the constellation-mapped brocade of the walls, the high, airy vaults of the ceiling, the arched entryway onto the balcony terrace that faced the sea.

A cool breeze played across her forehead, her sweat-scabbed skin. It chased away the fug of night-drop and censer smoke that crawled into her head as she took a shallow breath, so as not to jog free that bolt of pain again.

Nurses congregated, clad all in white, working at tables and attending to the shutters, the lay of her bedclothes, the censers hanging from long, pendulous chains. The smell of the incense was familiar, not the bitter herbs of funerals but the acerbic spice of physicians' halls, meant to keep the soul anchored in the world of the living. To remind it where it belonged, so it couldn't be lured to the glowlands deep beneath the sea, where drifted all the lost and the damned.

The scent meant Isabella wasn't dead yet, hadn't drifted to those deep and desolate places. It meant she was alive. Her mouth was so dry she might have gone mad and drank seawater. She tried to speak, but her voice came as a whisper. She tried again, harder.

"Water..."

The nurses turned. Voices murmured. Water wicked into her parched lips, and she drank, slopping half the cup down her front. "The queen," she managed. "Where's my mother? Is she all right?"

Glances passed between the nurses. They parted, and Grand Magister Tosca approached. Her spellburnt hands were gloved for work, but she tugged them off as she folded into a chair at Isabella's bedside. Isabella didn't remember seeing Tosca as old- wrinkled, yes, and waspish, her back bent and her hands knobbed like birds' claws, but not old. Now her years weighed her down. She had a cane, Isabella saw, something she'd not used before. She clasped her hands over its head, leaning heavily on it for support.

Tosca's dark eyes were lowered. Isabella felt the flutter of her own pulse against her breastbone. Silence stretched, tense and awful.

At last, Tosca raised her eyes. "Your mother, the queen, is dead. She was gone before the guards reached you."

Isabella nodded. She'd known. She'd felt the way her mother weighed down her arms. It was the inevitable weight of death, as if the soul gave the body some lightness that when gone turned the bones to lead. She'd seen the way the stars stilled in her eyes.

"Dead," she said.

The word hung in the air. Dead. Isabella felt her heartbeat again, overloud in her ears. It brought her back to the moment, back to her body. She had to think of Lapide now. That was what mattered.

"Then I am queen," she said.

Tosca inclined her head.

"And my mother? Where is...where is her body?"

"Her Majesty's funeral was two days ago."

Red fluttered across Isabella's vision. "You conducted her funeral without waiting for me to wake up? You...you can't, I have to ride at her side, I have to follow her to the end..."

Memories of her father's funeral rose like ghosts. The dusk sun turning the sky to blood and fire. The Vie, a channel of light, all of Valeris coming to pay their king-consort respect. The funerary vessel, a sleek thing of cedar and silver, sapsilk banners pulled and tugged in the winter wind. Herself, seething, and Luca pale and silent, and Cereza a child of ten, unable to hide her tears.

And her mother, her unbound hair streaming behind her, for in Lapide the dead and the family of the dead went to the graveside in nothing but sapsilk shifts and paint. Nothing could be given to the dead to make their passage to the afterlife easier, so they were given nothing at all.

With her father there was no body to burden the barge, simply an urn empty as night. Her mother would have been different. Pale, and bloodless, and shrouded in silk. Had they stitched her wound? Had they folded her hands at her sides? Had all of Valeris come for her, too, and when the priestesses burned her body on its funeral-pyre, on the coastal cliff sanctified for such purpose, had they watched the trail of smoke and mourned?

"You've been asleep for a week," Tosca said. "We couldn't delay her funeral any longer."

"A week." That explained the way she felt. "Did she go alone?"

"No. Not alone. Captain Acier rode by her side, in effigy of...a proper regent."

Of course. It was a decree instated by Queen Sofia herself. If she were to die, or become unable to rule, her husband, the king-consort and captain of her Falcii, would become temporary regent in her stead. As captain after Isabella's father, the decree applied to Enzo, too.

Enzo's alive. Relief burst like sunlight, the first feeling since Tosca had confirmed her fears. Isabella shuddered. She felt her face quiver, her mouth quiver, her throat tight like a noose.

Something needled at her. "Wait," she said. "A proper regent?"

She tried to push herself upright, to curl and hide her face. Her left arm moved- weak, but capable- but when she tried to move her right, pain twisted down it, chased with cold. She barely felt it, like it belonged to someone else, not her flesh at all.

Isabella looked down. Her arm was swathed to the shoulder in bandages.

"What..." she began. "What's wrong with my arm?"

"Perhaps you should take more night-drop tea..."

"No," Isabella demanded. Tosca sat, impassive. For the first time, Isabella noticed the Falcii in the room: silent, watching, hands set to weapons. "Tell me."

Tosca brought the end of her cane down against the floor: a decisive snap. "Princess," she said. "You stand accused of regicide."

Outside the gulls mewed, floating on updrafts. Their shadows rippled over the pale stone walls, barely seeming to move.

"No," Isabella said at last. She let out a short laugh. Her head swam.

"You were found with the queen's body, with a Falcii dagger in her heart. Reports tell you argued with the queen-"

"Because I worried over her, because-"

"Because she was still queen?" Isabella recognized her mother's words, remembered the way she'd clenched her mother's arm hard enough to leave marks. "Did she not warn you of that?"

"Yes- yes, she did, but-"

"And who do you claim murdered her in your stead?"

Isabella drew a short breath. "A dead man with silver eyes."

"A dead man," Tosca echoed.

"I pushed him over the parapet. His corpse-"

"There was no corpse found," Tosca said. "Only you, the queen's body and Captain Acier's strewn about you. And your arm."

It ached again as if in response, a pulse of cold winching the muscles of her shoulder tight. She was freezing despite the summer heat of the room. "What's wrong with my arm?"

A ripple of unease passed through the room. Tosca's face remained impassive, but her hands tightened on her cane. "It would be simpler to show you."

The nurses helped her from her bed. Her legs shook, bare feet unsteady on the marble tiles of the floor, but she straightened her spine and hobbled to the mirror. It was a triple oval of silvered glass, reflecting back an unfamiliar Isabella. She wore a linen shift, rumpled and wet down the front from the water. Her hair was tangled, her skin yellowed with half-healed bruises. Her eyes stared, sockets dark. Her right arm hung from her, like a sword from a belt; she felt now a throbbing in her shoulder, but that was all.

The rest was cold, and pain.

She forced herself to hold her own gaze as the nurses unwrapped her bandages. Her arm came slowly into view: her shoulder, her bicep. The color of her skin faded as the bandages came away, graying, blanching. The skin around her upper forearm looked pale as marble, dark veins threading through the inner crook of her elbow.

The last of the bandages fell. Bruises blotted her skin. They looked like bruises, at least, marbling her forearm with blossoms of scintillant black. It glimmered in the light like the skin had begun to crystallize, dark and glistening as oil in water.

The bruises centered around a series of half-moon punctures in her skin. Isabella recognized them, remembered the sensation of what had made them, if not the pain. Fingernails. Human fingernails.

The nails of the dead man who'd attacked her.

The dead Falcii who'd killed her mother.

Isabella stared, numb. She lifted the arm- it hurt again, though now the pain seemed dull- and bent it, turning the crystalline flesh this way and that. Her sword arm, she realized. The arm she'd raised, blade in hand, against the dead man.

"What is it?" she heard herself say.

"Perhaps you can tell us, Highness," Tosca said.

"You think I did this to myself? You think I killed my mother? All of you...you..." Her head swam again. She fought to keep her feet. "You can't accuse me on such flimsy claims. I am crown princess of Lapide. You can't. Not without...not without a witness..."

"We have a witness," Tosca said quietly.

He stepped from behind a pillar, where he'd been leaning, arms folded, head lowered. He was pale with blood loss, his neck wound a stitched gash visible under his collar. Isabella stared at him in the mirror as he approached, as he stood behind her, watching her in turn.

"I'm sorry, Isabella," Enzo said.

Isabella whirled. The Falcii around the room sprang to stop her; hands pushed her back as her fingers scraped air, as Enzo stared at her, as she screamed and struggled and slumped, the darkness full of nothing but ghosts.

***

So many times she had walked the halls of Valeris Palace with her mother, clasping the queen's beringed hand, listening to her every word. She'd ever been a serious, quiet child, a serious, quiet child growing into a serious, quiet girl. Braids had been shorn short, after some warrior-queen of ancient history she'd seen illustrated in a book, and wooden swords had become real ones. So many times she'd looked up from her drills to see her mother standing on the edge of the practice room, watching with steady gray eyes.

Praise from her mother had always meant a dozen times more than praise from her instructors and tutors, even from her father, who'd given it liberally along with honey sweets and great bearish hugs, sweeping her from the ground to shriek and giggle and kick at the air. Those had been easy. To please her mother had felt like a reward in itself, a task becoming harder with each repetition.

Had Sofia Valere felt that way, too? Growing in the shadow of a bold elder sister, born to be queen, protector of Lapide.

Her dying mother had thought she was Alezia. She hadn't seen a daughter, but a sister. What did Queen Sofia Valere have to be sorry about? That Alezia had died before she could be queen? That Sofia had taken her place?

The halls were darkened now, lamps turned low. From beyond Isabella heard the slow bronze peal of bells across Lapide. Mourning bells. They would ring until week's end, to guide her mother to the arms of the Triune, to keep her from wandering into deepwater and damnation.

Falcii surrounded Isabella on all sides. Ever since she was a child they were her companions, her protectors, her comrades once she'd worn the silver hawk. No more. Now, they stared ahead, any emotion hidden by the grilles of their helmets.

At least they hadn't chained her. She'd been allowed time to bathe and be dressed by silent maids, all overseen by the Falcii. They heeded Enzo's orders- now he stood as temporary regent until her trial might determine what would be done with her. She wore finery, frock coat and fresh sapsilk, the same clothes she'd worn for Cereza's betrothal ceremony. It no longer seemed to fit as well as it once had.

I did not kill my mother-

Her hand crept to her wounded arm. Pain rippled through her muscles with the slightest movement, a dull ache persisting in her joints. Behind the pain: something else, something hard, pressing against her crystallized palm.

Not a sensation. An object. She reached for it, found her shift's pocket, slipped her hand inside. Bone brushed her fingers, warmed by her body. Carved bone, one edge broken. Scrimshaw scraped her fingertips. It was the charm made from an ork's tooth, the old sailor's charm her mother had worn. She must have clenched it in her hand as she'd held her dying mother, had pulled it with her into unconsciousness.

Traces of wax stuck to her fingertips. Grayamber?

The grand hall was dark, lamps turned low. Echoes fanned from Isabella's footsteps, the hish of her breathing magnified by the chamber's lofty, empty heights.

Without the court, without the mezzanines full of glitter and flash and the lustrous glimmer of sapsilk, it seemed ominous, as if the only thing watching now from those balconies might be ghosts. This Palace must be full of them- five centuries of Valere regents had left echoes, and the Triune could not keep everyone. Valeria herself had built this hall, had according to legend cleaved open the rivulet that had gushed forth to become the Vie, had won Lapide through cunning and strange magics.

Likely more story than fact. Valeria had been real enough, though, a witch-queen laying claim to this northern half of the Sundered Empire, drowning her enemies in their own blood, ordering her witch-consort to sear their armies with lightning. Isabella carried Valeria's blood inside her, just like her mother before. She had so wanted a new world, so dreamed it. A fair world, a strong one. Every child of Lapide knew what Valeria had won, but now Isabella wondered what she had lost, too, in the conquering.

"Princess Isabella," said the Duchess Melia.

She sat at the long table that had been drawn before the throne dais. Her midsummer paint and finery was absent, her hands folded before her on the glossy cedarwood. Lord Maryen sat opposite her, while Tosca waited, too, clutching her cane, watching Isabella as the Falcii brought her forth. Other Lapidaean lords stared her down. She refused to challenge them, forgot their stares of distrust and dismay as she registered who sat the throne, who raised his hand to order the hall doors shut and barred.

Enzo lowered his hand, his eyes not leaving her, his expression unreadable.

"You don't deserve that throne," Isabella spat, ignoring the other members of her mother's council. "You lied, you-"

"Princess Isabella, be silent," Melia ordered. Her flirtatious Arvadanze demeanor was gone with her paint, and she'd become hard again, ork-oil and iron. "Captain Acier has ordered this trial so your fate might be made fair. Without him, you would have no advocates at all. Mind your tongue."

"I did not kill my mother," Isabella said.

"You still deny it? I expect you'll deny treason, too," Maryen said.

Isabella turned on him. "I deny it to my last breath-"

"I hope that won't be necessary," Melia said.

"Enough of this." Isabella lifted her chin. "While we sit and argue, King Daval prepares a fleet the likes of which none that sail these seas has seen before. A fleet of dreadnoughts built not just to invade Lapide, but to raze it to the ground."

"And where is proof of this?" asked Maryen.

"My- my Sparrow-"

"The infamous Sparrow. Where is he now?" Melia gave a little laugh. "Flown his cage, I'll wager."

"So," spoke up another lord, "you deny you consorted with the Estaran crown to cripple your mother's rule, and when she gave signs of not caving to your push to take her crown, assassinated her yourself-"

"I deny it."

"You deny harboring Prince Alois, an enemy of Lapide? You deny granting him asylum in this very palace, less a prisoner than a guest of the crown?"

"He had nothing to do with the attack," Isabella pressed. "He was a pawn, his father's pawn, and-"

"He told you this, did he?" Maryen muttered.

"He is-" Isabella cut off. She remembered Alois's terror when she'd revealed her knowledge of his encroaching blindness, the shame in his eyes. "He is unfit to rule by Estaran law. That is all that needs to be said."

"Protecting the Bloodmonger's son," Melia said, tapping the arm of her chair with one long, gilt fingernail. "Might as well show our throats to the foxes..."

"I would never stand against Lapide," Isabella cried. "Everything I've done has been for Lapide-"

"So you deny your dissatisfaction with the late queen's actions after the Estaran attack?" Enzo said softly. Isabella's gaze snapped toward him. "You deny defiance?"

"How could I have let Lapide crumble while my mother sat at Cereza's bedside, weeping?" Isabella's voice came out a dry rasp. She made herself breathe, but her lungs seemed crushed inside her. "I trusted you, Enzo, I told you everything, all my fears, all my doubts-"

"All I want is the best for Lapide," Enzo said. "Even if that means going against you. I'm sorry, Highness."

"Sorry," Isabella echoed. "And what are you to do with me that you must beg my forgiveness? You know I didn't kill my mother. A dead man did. I'll swear it on the gallows, I'll swear it as Yuna tears my ghost from my bones."

"A dead man?" Enzo asked quietly. "And what proof do you have?"

"This is my proof." Isabella ripped down her sleeve and raised her crystallized arm. A finger of sunlight from one of the high windows touched it, flaring its black crystal to a dark gleam. A ripple of unease passed through the room; the lords of Lapide drew back, eyes wide, hands slipping to charms and daggers.

"Witchery," Maryen snarled.

"A dead man commanded by the witchery of that arm of yours. A heretic's instrument." Duchess Melia exchanged glances with Lord Maryen. "Dark days indeed when ghosts stir from the glowlands."

Isabella shook her head. All of this was wrong. "The dark magic did this to me. The dark magic wounded me."

"Was it at your command that the witchborn assassin attacked and cursed the princess?" Maryen said.

"No," Isabella gasped. White trembled in her lashes. "Triune, you think I'd scheme Cereza's death?"

She searched the faces of the assembled. "Daval's fleet is coming, whether you believe me or not. I am your rightful queen-"

"We'll hold you in the Palace," Maryen interrupted. "It would be easiest for all assembled, including you, if you simply renounced your claim to the throne-"

"Never," Isabella said.

"Prince Luca and Princess Cereza are gone," Enzo said. "Please, Isabella. Think of Lapide. Think of your nation without a leader, without a strong regent to face this war."

"And who is that? You?"

He tilted his head, his eyes never leaving hers. "Maybe."

Isabella lunged for him with a strangled cry. One of her Falcii guards took her arm, holding her back.

Enzo rose. He approached her slowly. Isabella stood her ground as he stopped before her. His gaze traveled across her face, down her arm. Isabella heard the catch in his breathing as he reached out.

She didn't feel his fingers brush her skin, the crystallized black flesh around the wound the dead man had made. She heard the faint skiff of his fingertips against the crystal.

"Tosca was going to take it off," he said. There was a cold, heavy note to his voice, like an executioner's blade at gray dawn. "Cut it away at the shoulder."

Isabella clenched her teeth, pulling back from him."Were you the one to stop her?"

"Yes." His eyes glinted. "I knew you'd prefer to make the decision yourself."

"You know me too well, Enzo."

"Give up the crown," he said. "Don't die for your pride."

Isabella's smile felt as numb as her arm. She slipped her hand into her pocket. "Not well enough."

She closed her eyes and crushed the command.

Sunlight flared, an eruption of it like high noon. Heat billowed, crackling through Isabella's hair. The Falcii around her stumbled, thrown back in surprise. Enzo was faster to recover. He clenched his hand.

Silver light flickered in the depths of his eyes.

Isabella's fist cracked into his stomach: her bad fist, numb flesh and crystal. She sent a second blow across his face. He snapped sideways. Shouts, blade-scrape, hands on her, but Isabella had trained alongside them. She'd been one of them. The dead man might have gotten the better of her. That wouldn't happen again.

"Don't hurt her!" Enzo's voice split the chaos. "Leave her alive!"

Isabella whirled, Falcii facing her down. She saw them hesitate, saw them take her in. They faltered; their hands hovered over their weapons. Isabella's heart pounded. She wouldn't waste their loyalties by dying here. She went for the doors: not the grand ones leading from the hall, but the humble arched doorway behind a pillar, made for servants.

She threw a look back as she slipped through. Enzo clung onto the edge of the table, staring after her, blood webbed down his chin. Isabella's arm gave a single hard pulse of pain, splintering cold through her body.

The door slammed shut and held.

Isabella ignored the pain in her arm and ran.

#togl #tales of the great leviathan #fantasy fiction #original fiction #serial novel #chapter 28

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fictionkinfessions · 9 months

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being on that ship was hell. at the best of times i was stuck on a floating mass of metal and wood with shitty food, crass and dirty sailors, and a raving lunatic of a captain determined to sail us to certain doom in a desire to exact revenge on a creature whose eye was bigger than the boat. and at the worst... storms whipping you around and threatening to toss you overboard, the harsh, cold sting of saltwater whipping against your skin, freezing hands gripping a harpoon, your only means of defense against something so massive that it would optimistically see it as a splinter or a thorn. the waves reach up on the deck like hands to drag your comrades to the bottom of the great lake, and staring into the eye of the beast wondering if you're better off just giving up and joining them. the wetness under your feet a disgusting reddish mess of rain, lake water, and blood. and after all of that... that thing left me alone alive, floating adrift in the frigid water on the coffin of someone i'd come to care for. like some kind of sick joke. the kind that made me realize all too well why that bastard was so hellbent on revenge. and as if to compound on it my dumb ass was so consumed by it all that i company that prevented me from even having the dignity of being able to die, instead just be haunted by nightmares of it made manifest. and all of this spurred in my memory just by seeing a drawing of a white whale. i want to get off of project moon's wild ride.

- ishmael #🐳⚓️⛵️

🐸

#fictionkinfessions #fictionkin #🐳⚓️⛵️#ishmaelkin #oceans cw #aableist language cw #chara hate #suicide ideation cw #mod party cat

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lunar-order-archivist · 2 years

Text

4-31-4232

This is the first entry in my travel log. I suppose I should introduce myself, I am Edard Howird probably better known by my pen name Lord Cecil Voidwood.

While sales have been good, my publicist insisted that I try to expand my brand’s horizons with different scenarios, settings, and species. To this end, they’ve sent me off to visit some other planets to get experience beyond what I would get on my own world and like an idiot I agreed. Fun fact did you know that 0.002% of humans become violently ill during the transition between real space and N-space, and guess who turns out to be part of that 0.002%. Apparently, the same effect usually happens on the reentry into real space, fun. Luckily it only seems to be an issue going in and out because if it persisted I’d miss the view out of the ship which is beautiful, the colors rippling and shifting across the protective field. Not much I need to do during the trip so I’ll probably spend at least some time just enjoying the view.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

5-7-4232

Alright, so I’ve been on Anduva for a few days now but haven’t been able to continue my journal for a bit.

So let’s try to get caught up. Tried some nausea medication before leaving N-space, made the vomit a lovely shade of pink. Arrived on the planet and met my host an Arborotans whose name is literally unpronounceable but is fine with me referring to him as simply Host, turns out he is a fan of my work which admittedly was a surprise given his species’ anatomy but good to hear. Also turns out I'm one of the rare humans who has a reaction to the local bugs, yay. Luckily Host knew a plant that could help with it, unluckily it was a ways away so I’ve spent the last few days laying on the floor of my borrowed room moaning in discomfort and pain. And after he returned and my reaction calmed down enough I went for a walk and learned about some of the local nonsentient flora, including a bush that threw a thorn at me the length of my arm which was left over from when the people who built the spaceport my room is in tried to colonize the planet.

Beautiful plant, but I’m going to take extra precautions to pay attention to where Host says to be careful of.

Also met some fauna that was closer to the port than expected. Not friendly fauna, my gun that had saved me many times on my world probably would have only tickled the beast. Luckily I learned to be very very very thankful that Host likes me because he simply brought a branch down directly onto the beast’s head concussing it enough to then break its neck. I’ve written enough scenes of someone's rippling muscles that it was actually kinda odd to see no real movement under his bark as he casually hefted the creature up into his branches so he could carry it to somewhere that could use the nutrients. Again I’m very thankful that Host likes me.

Now I'm sitting here in my room listening to the Arborotans bellow back and forth to each other, the sound reminds me of recordings of massive creatures supposedly native to earth known as whales, at first I found it haunting and eerie but now, now it is quite beautiful, though I've yet to get used to it enough to easily fall asleep, especially with some of the bellows from particularly large individuals rattling the walls of the room. Thank Alu they get less active at night.

----------------------------------------------------------

5-15-4232

So after a few days of being shown some incredible plants and animals, most of which were interesting in nondangerous ways, it is almost time to head out but before that, I saw something I had to write down.

So you know how the Anduvan jungle skylines are sporadically broken up by truly massive trees? like skyscrapers of wood and leaves? Well, I got a reminder that they are alive and arborotans.

So I was hanging out with Host when the thrum of an engine started up and this ship slipped above the trees overhead. Host stomped forward and let out a loud bellow that probably could be heard for miles, I've never seen him move so angrily.

I asked him what was going on and he signs that they were poachers who probably came to steal from the arborotans.

Anyway this bellow is repeated around, other arborotans spreading the news when one of these giant trees that I've sorta zoned out as part of the background suddenly lashes out and grabs the ship from the air. It's hard to get a proper scale at the distance but from what I could guess the ship wasn't that small and this great-grandfather, as Host later told me they were called, held it in one hand. Even from this distance, I could see faint trails of smoke where the engines burned against his bark, the engines were running so strongly. This titan of wood then brought the ship before the structure I've come to recognize to be an arborotan's face and suddenly a noise, well noise is the best way I could describe it, bellowed out. The "sound" was powerful and deep enough that I couldn’t really hear it, but I certainly felt it even from the great distance between me and him, I can still see the bruising from where the shockwave burst capillaries throughout my skin. I can only imagine how it would affect someone as close as the ship.

Suffice to say it seems the ship's engines shut off before the great-grandfather dropped it to the ground below. I was too far to hear it hit the ground but I doubt that the ship survived the fall.

Host says I should feel greatly honored since it is so rare to see a great-grandfather move. While I do feel honored, it is hard to deny that I can't wait to get some treatment to restore my hearing because while I know Universal Standard Sign, I do prefer verbal communication.

#Edard Howird #Arborotan #Anduva

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vivilove-jonsa · 3 years

Note

Don't know if you're still doing the July Prompts, but in case you feel like it... Treasure Hunt, please? 😁🤗

Hello, my dear!

I love this prompt and I had more than one idea for it honestly but settled on a Mermaid AU. It needs a continuation at some point before I think I'll post it on ao3 but I hope you'll enjoy the start anyway!

(and this will be the last of the July prompts I'll be able to do)

A foggy morning upon the southern sea and a lone cutter with sixteen souls aboard ghosts across the surface where a tired, young sailor rubs his eyes.

The captain rises from his bunk and joins him on the bridge. “Where’s Thorne?”

Jon jerks his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the head. “Hobb’s chili’s not agreeing with him, captain.”

Mormont winces in sympathy for his second in command but Jon secretly hopes Thorne stays there another half hour. He hates my ass and the feeling is mutual at this point.

“Very well. Anything on radar, Snow?”

“No, sir. Clear and quiet.”

“Not been any sirens tempting you to jump ship then?”

Jon’s surprised that the old man is pulling his leg this early as Mormont is far from a morning person. There are legends surrounding these waters but it’s all a load of horseshit. Of course, the sunken treasure they’re seeking off this coast may well be one too but men are known to risk much for even a bit of gold.

“No, sir. No sirens, giant krakens or merfolk so far. I’ll let you know if any pay us a call though.”

Jon anticipates a wry grin in answer to his sarcasm but Mormont looks to be in deadly earnest when he says, “Don’t mock things you don’t understand, boy.”

He softens the scolding tone with a pat on the shoulder though and makes to leave again when Jon cannot help asking, “Do you think we’ll find my uncle out here?”

He’s told ‘maybe’ but the old man’s sorrowful look says ‘no.’

Benjen had commanded the first expedition out here last year looking for the Wolf’s Eye, the fabled shipwreck from years past with a ruby the size of a man's fist reportedly part of its treasure. The ship never returned and neither has any of the crew.

Alone again, Jon looks back over the water and his eyes begin to grow heavy once more. It’s been a long night on duty.

A sudden, steady beeping from the radar has him sitting up straight. What is that? It’s huge, twice as big as the ship. It’s not possible that a vessel that size could’ve snuck up on them so quickly and quietly, is it? Must be a whale or an uncharted reef.

He cuts the engines, sounds the alert and lets the ship begin to drift to a stop. The captain will probably be back up in a minute.

Stepping out from the bridge, he goes to the rail for a look and sees her. There’s a girl in the water! Where did she come from?!

“Man overboard!” he shouts with all his might as he reaches for a life preserver.

He takes aim and tosses it skillfully towards her. It lands less than three feet from her but she makes no move to grab it. She continues treading water and looking up at him with curiosity.

“Grab the float, miss! I’ll haul you in!” he cries.

A confused smile, a shrug. She gingerly taps the life preserver, a look of frank suspicion. Then, she seems to understand and waves at him.

And even in the early morning light and fog, Jon can tell her eyes are a lovely cerulean blue and her hair is a blaze of red. It’s not the shade of the ruby which they seek but more of an auburn, like a cozy fire in one’s hearth on a cold night, a more tangible sort of treasure to Jon's way of thinking.

She’s smiling up at him and…gods, she’s beautiful.

The ship is coming to life. Men race along the deck trying to figure out what’s going on. He can hear Thorne bellowing at him from the bridge but he keeps staring at the girl in the water who seems concerned by all the hullabaloo she and the radar has caused. She still makes no move towards the ship.

“If you won’t save yourself, I guess I’ll be saving you,” Jon grumbles with conviction as he begins to tug off his boots.

The girl in the water laughs at that. She seems to want him to jump into the water with her.

What sort of game is this? What had Mormont teased him of just a short time ago? Should he be more cautious than this? That's what he's most often being rebuked for aboard, flying headlong into an uncertain situation without giving it enough thought.

But his hands are already on the railing, preparing to climb over…when an almighty jarring crash knocks him to his knees. Have they struck the reef?! Is there an invisible ship out there they’ve run square into?

No, there’s a tentacle coming up over the side. An enormous tentacle, as big around as a pig! There’s more than one! It’s wrapping around the ship and pulling. The bloody thing seems to be intent on taking the ship under!

His eyes find the girl’s again and those big blue eyes are frightened. She gestures wildly for him to jump, to come to her. (And her gesturing brings Jon’s attention to the fact that she’s not wearing any sort of clothing or swimsuit on her top half at least. Seven hells.)

Regardless of her state of dress, there’s bigger problems at hand. Panicked and not knowing what else to do, Jon jumps towards the girl in the water, barely clearing one of those huge tentacles.

Perhaps it’s the impact of hitting the water or perhaps something hit his head as he jumped but Jon feels pain and the blackness is closing in and he immediately gulps in a mouthful of seawater.

Sputtering and disoriented, he’s briefly aware of the girl wrapping one thin, cool arm around his torso and pulling him rapidly away from the cutter. They move so quick, like dolphins through the water. She's stronger and faster than he would've ever guessed.

There’s shouts and cries from the men aboard the ship and subconsciously Jon knows something very bad is happening but in his drifting, foggy state, he can’t seem to comprehend it all.

"Who are you?" he asks the girl...or maybe he just thinks it.

She looks so worried over him and he wants to tell her not to worry. He may find his uncle here.

She shakes her head and gently kisses his aching brow and gives him what he thinks is an attempt at a reassuring smile.

One of his hands is tangled in her wet hair and Jon would swear there’s a silvery fin beating against his dangling, useless legs before consciousness leaves him completely.

*TBC*

#jonsa #jonsa fanfic #mermaid au #patritxi #prompt asks #this one is to be continued #when I find the time 😩

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