#With the rivers flow is actually really short

[gracemain919]

The Priest (oc) and “Mother” (oc) really short story:

(The Fungus universe)

Tw: Yandere, Mentions of religion and corruption, slight infantilization like if you squint.

(quick writing there might be many mistakes)

A Beautiful Pendant

In a classy theater, you stood, dim lights hiding away the packed crowd that was very intent on watching the show. You hid behind the curtains only taking small peeks towards the performers that twisted and twirled telling a story you were all too familiar with.

The woman in the act raised her body getting on her tippy toes before circling a man in the middle. The man seemed unbothered by her looks, a mask hiding away any reaction he may be showing. Even with her hands on his shoulders, he didn't flinch.

She appeared graceful; thanks to the white flowy dress of fabric that overlapped with the floor. It made it seem like she was dancing over a quiet river of white by the way it flowed perfectly along with each of her movements.

She tried to move him. She tried to guide his limbs gently. A small tug on the arm, a delicate push on his leg. She was acting like a mentor, but he wouldn’t follow. The man pushed her aside before going to his own part of the show. Raising his hands like a magician, he kneeled on the ground while grabbing an odd pendant.

You could yawn… you have seen the show before. You’ve seen the way people interpret the story and they always get so close to the actual truth, but never quite there. The audience has their theories or are just rich folk who want to see a visually pleasing performance. Either way, neither parties will understand.

Sometimes, you can’t find the fine line between truth and exaggeration either.

Not even when the older man curled the pendant between his fingers manipulating the string tight in his grasp. He raised his fist to his face whispering something to the trinket before placing it on the idle circle that was carved into the floor.

The woman never really stopped moving, but when she saw the object she acted surprised, placing her hands on her chest and walking closer to the circle with curiosity. She acted so interested in this foreign object while the man kept his mask tight and secure.

She didn't kneel unlike the older man, but soon others passed you. Other performers quickly exited the curtain to surround this useless trinket. They all were transfixed by it-

Shit, the lights were turned off… Now it’s your turn.

Swift hands grabbed you in the darkness promptly pulling you on the stage and before you knew it you were laid in the circle. A special spotlight flashed on your face as your particular black clothing made a deep contrast with the other woman. The whiteness in her outfit flowed away as they all focused on you.

You weren't completely engulfed, no, they still had an audience to entertain so there was a direct hole where you could see the crowd act just as shocked or amused as the actors. However, the ones that weren't looking did become nosy when the older man lifted you to your knees. The members broke the circle, leaving you more exposed to the crowd, and you couldn't do anything but stay still.

Still, you couldn't move when his fingers lingered on your form as if you were a delicate object, heck even a being. He treated you with such softness as if you were a god while he raised you to your feet.

Now the humiliating part….

With bated breath you allowed your body to be manipulated as he made you follow each of his movements in a short dance. If he raised his hand then you can bet yours is tied along. If he moved to the side, a firm grip on your torso would soon follow. You were puppeteered just as much as you were watched upon in amazement.

The crowd loved it, some clapping while others gave their silent approval… all for you. Even when the white doe-like woman remained ignored letting your forgettable color shine. She just smiled towards you when she stood with the others as you were forced to dance. You practically stole the spotlight from her, but she was just an ‘actor’. She was acting as if she was such a pure thing when in reality she was darker than the clothes you were wearing.

[specshroom]

°~ A MAGE IN THE JUNGLE ~°

Includes: Use of she/her, Slimy naga dick, Size difference, strangers to...fucking? Idk.

In which: Our Mage searches the jungle for a rare species to add to her "research".

She curses as her boot clad feet catch on another root, almost sending her tumbling into the dewy jungle ground. Deciding to stop for a short break, she swats at the buzzing mosquitoes, taking her hat off to fan herself futilely while eyeing the map she bought.

The vender who sold it to her was an eccentric type, which is always a good sign in her eyes. If you're going to scam people at least commit to the whole "mysterious merchant" bit. The old hag managed to make her cough up 7 copper coin for this "traveler's essential". 

Her goodwill has not been paid back as apparently the map was more unreliable than she expected. The mage curses herself as she glowers at the useless map, trying to decipher where the hell she is.  

After a few more minutes of squinting and pointing to random places on the map, she just scrunches the flimsy paper in her hands and sets it on fire, burning it up before the embers could even reach the floor. She wasn't looking for anything any cheap map could show her anyway. 

She came here to follow an urban legend about a deadly beast that stalks the jungle. The creature has many different variations depending on who's telling the story but what is consistent is the shining gold scales adorning the creature. Stories vary widely from village to village, some say it's an old wrathful god sent down to punish those greedy enough to seek it out and some say it's a beautiful maiden with a golden tail here to bring good fortune to those deserving of it. 

Which ever story is the truth, she just couldn't hold back her fanaticism. A strange creature that apparently nobody has seen before but for some reason is being spotted closer to nearby villages more and more? That is absolutely right up her alley. 

Now if she could only find the damn thing. The villagers seemed almost relieved that someone else was going to try and find this thing, so getting information was quite easy. While the area has been narrowed down, it's still a huge chunk of jungle. At this point it would be easier if the monster just came out and tried to eat her already. 

The mage percs up when they hear water flowing and walks in that direction until she stumbles on a river. She kneels down by the waters edge, it looks pretty deep or maybe the water is just too murky to see the bottom. She hums and pulls out the flask she enchanted, fills it with water and waits for the magic to properly dispose of the dirt particles and bacteria before taking a long gulp. 

This river is wide and the water flows slowly but surely past her. She places her hand in the water, curious to see if she can see the bottom or perhaps any fish to eat. 

She softly chants an incantation, forcing the dirt particles away from her hand. This proves harder than she thought as she's never had to cleanse flowing water before. 

She leans in closer to concentrate her energy and eventually the water becomes clearer and she can see something glistening at her from the water. Is that really treasure at the bottom of the river? Could she be that lucky?

 She squints and leans closer to get a better look, the golden specs glinting in the murky water blink at her through the surface. 

She freezes and the blood in her veins turns colder than the depths of the river. 

Before she can even move a huge clawed hand shoots up from the  surface and clings onto her arm, tearing through her cloak, undershirt and skin. There's no time for a painted scream as she's pulled into the water with great force. She can feel the waters resistance against her body as it's dragged into the murky depths. 

Before this beast actually drowns her she manages to force her other hand against the current to grip onto the beasts scaly wrist. She casts the first spell she can think of, Combustion. 

Suddenly the surface of the water explodes outwards, splashing water high into the air. She propels herself upwards and breaks the surface to hover above the water. She curses and looks around frantically, she can't lose the monster now. Panicking, she summons her hat and starts chanting, willing the plentiful vines of the jungle trees to plunge into the river and search for the beast. 

When she feels a tug she wills the vines to pull the heavy struggling mass to the surface. The huge mass writhes and thrashes in its confines as it rises from the water. 

She can finally see just how massive this thing is as it fights and snarls at her. It's much bigger than any Naga she's seen before, the human half is near orc sized! The bottom half being even bigger with the long thick tail thrashing in the water below. She reinforces the vines to bind the rest of the ridiculously large tail and sets the beast down on the ground next to the river. 

When her feet meet the ground, she sighs and wills the water out of her soaked clothes. She checks her bleeding arm and sucks in a breath at how deep the gashes are. 

"Now look what you did. Fucking hell, thats deep. How long are your claws?!"

Of course she can heal it but it's such a pain. The monster on the ground hisses and spits in response. 

She takes a better look at it, or him, she discovers. His scales really do shimmer like gold with black scales painting a pattern all the way down his back and tail. His white underbelly fades into something resembling human skin as her eyes move up his rapidly moving chest. The gold scales fade into a darker black down his shoulders to the tips of his clawed fingers. Her eyes flicker to his intense stare, pure gold flickers in his irises. His drenched black hair gets in the way of his glare. 

"Wow."

She can't help but verbalise her awe. She carefully moves around him to look at him in a different angle.

"I knew you were a naga. I knew it."

She summons a book into her hand, not her spellbook but one for these special cases. She flips to a new page and licks the tip of her pencil. She crouches down to look at him expectantly,

"Do you happen to know how much you weigh? What do you eat? Most nagas are some sort of omnivorous but I'm assuming you eat mostly fish. How many fish do you have to eat to stay this size?"

She gestures incredulously to all of his giantness.

He just growls some more, quiter this time as his confusion overtakes his anger somewhat.

"Come now, I know you can understand me and I know you can speak."

He stops growling to stare at her incredulously. How could she possibly know that? The giant snake man tries to readjust but hisses again, this time in pain. She jolts up and immediately goes to assess the wound on his wrist, which is tied tightly to his back. She cringes at the red, fleshy wound she created on his body. So much for first impressions. Without much warning she immediately starts with the healing spell. This creates great discomfort for him, as his cells rebuild themselves but she knows this is better than dragging it out for longer.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

She coos at the massive man almost like he's a child or a small animal. This woman evades him. Once she's done and his wrist is good as new she springs up and clears her throat, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"Sorry about that but...you did try to eat me so..."

He looks like he wants to say something but doesn't know how exactly. By the scowl on his face it doesn't look like it would be anything good. She crouches down again, peering down at him.

"Do you still want to eat me?"

He growls, nothing but hatred in his beautiful eyes as he hoaursly spits out,

"I want nothing more in the world."

"..."

The mage tries and fails to hide a girlish giggle behind her hand as she rocks back and forth on her feet. She reacts as if he'd just complemented her outfit. The Naga man pulls his mouth into a snarl and huffs in irritation, hating how this woman continues to confuse him.

After composing herself she summons her little reaserch book again, holding it against her crouched thighs to write.

"Have you actually ever eaten a human before? Be honest."

The Naga writhes in his bonds to eventually turn away from her so atleast he doesn't have to face his captor. He lies there for awhile just squirming every so often, he's already tried to cut the vines with his claws but she must have done some kind of reinforcement magic when she healed him. Damn witch.

While he devises an escape plan, he can hear scratching on paper from behind him. The mage seems to be writing quite a lot in her book. When the Naga looks back at her he catches her gaze staring intently at the intricate patterns on his back, the way the scant black scales blend with the bright gold makes for a very unique pattern.

"How much will you sell it for"

She stops sketching and looks back up at his eyes. She lets out a confused "hmm?"

This only makes him angrier.

"My hide! It must be worth a fortune! That's why you're here!"

Her gaze softens a bit, kicking herself mentally for being so unthinking towards the man. He might be big and intimidating but that doesn't mean he can't be scared for his life.

"Look, I don't want your hide. It would be much easier to just fake one anyway since nodoby knows what you actually look like. I just want to ask you a few questions and then let you get back on with your day. I'll even cook you a meal as a thank you."

The snake man is obviously skeptical, all he does is stare back at her with those gorgeous eyes.

She sighs and opens her book back up, flipping over to a particular page.

"Researching rare and perculiar creatures is a hobby of mine."

She rolls down onto her stomach and shuffles closer to the massive Naga. She leans on her elbows to show him the open page as if they were best friends at a slumber party and she's showing him her dairy.

"You're not even the rarest or most sought after Naga species I've met."

She points to a drawing she sketched of a male Naga, this one with the torso and arms of a human but the tail and head of a snake. There's a bunch of scribbles and descriptions around the drawing in a language he can't read.

"Where he's from people worship him like a god. He's a very rare species that can hypnotise someone just by looking into their eyes."

She chooses to leave out the part where she willingly let the Naga hypnotise her and use her as he pleased for weeks.

He doesn't have a response to give the mage, staring blankly at the pages as she rattles on about other species she has in her book. His skepticism somewhat dampened by these sketches of Naga just like him but with characteristics he's never seen before.

The mage notices how dark the sky has gotten, catching a few stars glinting overhead. She gets up and starts assembling the tent she brought. Pulling thick fabric out of her infinitaly deep satchel.

The Naga man just lies there watching, wondering if it would be so bad to comply with this mage. They don't seem dangerous or malicious at all but the magic they wield is still a concern. She talks to him as she works on building her temporary abode.

"Y'know, the village folk are quite nice. If you want I could talk to them, I'm sure they would rather cohabitate than live in fear of a man-eating monster in the jungle. Since you're definitely a rare species this part of the jungle could even be named as a conservation zone."

She keeps yapping stuff the Naga man doesn't care to listen to. The mage erects her shoddy little tent, does some sort of chant and then hurriedly crouches inside the small space.

She stays inside there for a while to the point where the Naga man thinks she might not return for the night. He smells something absolutely devine and realises it's cooked beef coming from inside the tent.

The damn mage walks outside with a steaming bowl of that devine smelling concoction. She stabs a piece of meat with a fork and offers it to him after blowing on it a little. She doesn't really give him time to react before poking the fork into his mouth. His taste buds are lighting up and he almost moans at the taste.

The mage grins at how he accepted her offer and stands back up.

"I just want to ask you a few questions. I'm sorry for causing you trouble but I didn't come all this way for nothing. I'm more than happy to repay you for your troubles if you just come inside."

After that she turns and walks back into the tent. As she walks away the vines binding his body loosen until they fall from his body entirely.

He's free. She's giving him an out. He could just leave.... But he can still taste the meat on his tongue. Nothing has happened to him yet so atleast he knows it's not poisoned or spiked. He turns to where the dark water of the river calls to him and turns back to the fire light coming from inside the mages tent. He sighs and hangs his head. As if the jungle itself is trying to urge him, a cool breeze blows past that seems to urge him closer to the tent.

The Naga sighs, stretches his sore limbs and slowly slithers towards the tent. He takes a deep breath before parting the fabric of the opening and crouching inside.

As he expected, the tent is much bigger than it appears on the outside. Bedding and pillows cover the floor and there is a fire with a pot over it in the middle.

The mage is humming to herself while pouring more steaming hot stew into two bowls. He sits across form her coiling his tail into a pile to sit on top of it.

She holds out a steaming bowl to him and waits patiently for him to take it. He hesitantly accepts the offer and, after watching her eat a fair portion of her own bowl, starts slurping up the meaty stew.

After the first and second serving the mage places her empty bowl aside and picks up her book. As the Naga pours himself a third helping she clears her throat, making him look up at her expectant gaze. He huffs but nods, lazing back against his tail to keep enjoying his meal. The mage gleams across from him.

"I don't know how much I weigh, I eat mostly fish and I've never eaten a human."

The mage scribbles all this down as he speaks, very pleased with his cooperation.

"How often do you shed?"

The Naga rests his arms on his tail like it's a comfy backrest. He takes a generous gulp of his stew before answering,

"...Once every season."

"So you grow moderately quick then? And you're still growing? Or do you think this is how big you'll get."

"I still shed, so I'm still growing."

The woman nods and jots that down.

"You're a constrictor type, right? No venom or hypnotising?"

He gives her a deadpan stare, as if to say "What do you think?". She gets the idea and confirms her own theory.

she chews her lip, deliberating something before she finally asks.

"Can I measure you?"

He gives her an irritated look before he slowly unwinds his tail from it's bunched up state, unfurling it out on the floor as he lies on his stomach.

The mage wastes no time springing up and pulling a rolled up tape measure out of her hat. She holds it out to him and says,

"Hold this at your head, please."

He boredly does as she asks and she carefully walks back the length of his body. He doesn't know why but he straightens his tail as much as possible while looking at her over his shoulder. When she gets to the tip of his thick tail she exclaims some numbers in a measurement he doesn't know but from the look on her face it's clearly impressive. She hurriedly scribbles that in her book.

The measuring roll disappears and the Naga goes back to his meal. He pours what's left in the bowl into his awaiting mouth before he feels a soft touch on his tail and freezes.

He slowly looks behind him at the culprit. He watches her with a predatory gaze as she hesitantly tests his patience. He watches her, as if daring her to go further and so obviously she does. She inches higher up his tail to where is gets much thicker, lightly tracing the patterns on his reptilian skin. She softly touches his golden scales as if they're fragile.

The mage gets more confident and crawls higher up his tail, getting more inquisitive and bold.

"Is the underside more sensitive?"

She asks, genuinely curious. He doesn't answer, just keeps staring at her with a look that says "Try it", so that's what she does. She looks into his eyes and slides her hand down the side of his tail towards the white underbelly.

He strikes before she can even blink. He has her on the floor coiled up in his tail as he entraps her whole body with his. She doesn't offer much of a fight besides some squirming but his tightening hold on her body forces her to still.

"Is this what you want mage?"

She says nothing, only looks up at him with those same curious eyes. He can feel her heart beat as he squeezes her rib cage, it beats steady and bold. She's not scared of him at all and that intrigues him more than he likes.

The Naga looms over her, he reaches out to grab her jaw tilting her head around to look over her face. He's tried to ignore it but he's also quite curious about her and her own species. He pinches his fingers slightly so that it makes her lips pout together before he reaches out with his other hand to take her pink tongue in between his thumb and pointerfinger. She just stares up at him, offering no resistance.

He strokes the small wet muscle with his thumb, rubbing over where it would split into two if she was a Naga like him. It's so small compared to his fingers and much warmer than he anticipated, probably due to the warm meal they just shared. He sticks his tongue out to lick the air and pauses when he smells something unfamiliar but unmistakable, coming from the Mages lower parts.

He's smelled it once before when he caught sight of a human woman bathing in the river, he couldn't help but linger in the brush and watch the human as she touched herself. He feels the same need now that he felt then, a curious burn in his stomach.

The mage struggles in his hold,

"I know you're curious too..."

She says up at him, almost hopefully. She slowly struggles her legs free to wrap them around his wide torso, squeezing him between her thighs. As he looks down at her the snake man feels her warm body heat radiating off of her seeping into his skin, the movement of her chest, her pulse. He can feel his cock poking out from the slowly parting slit on his white underbelly.

He licks the air one more time before his mouth catches hers in a needy kiss. She immediately kisses back with fever, fidgeting more in his hold making him tighten the heavy coils which only makes her let out a pleasured cry into his mouth. His tongue feels so odd on her own, it's much longer than hers and he pushes it down her throat with abandon.

His tail slithers around her body, lifting her shirt up. When she first feels his cold skin against her warm stomach she's filled with need to feel him against every inch of her skin. She struggles in his hold, kissing him with more need and trying to grind her neglected cunt against something.

The Naga huffs a laugh and watches her kick her legs helplessly.

"Do you have other clothes?"

He mumbles against her lips, she nods into the kiss.

His claws tear her pants and underwear away as if the garments were made of tissue paper, doing the same to the neckline of her shirt and undershirt. She groans at the feeling of his cold skin against hers and the humid night air on her cunt.

She feels a slick substance drip onto her pussy and groans loudly.

"Show me. Let me see."

She pleads and struggles even more. He chuckles and nibbles on the skin of her neck,

"Little thing like you should be scared. What if it's too much for you?"

His concern is real even if he's insanely turned on by this situation. Her body might not be able to keep up with her inquisitive mind.

"Try me."

She looks into his eyes with determination, he looks back. One of his hands go to stroke his growing cocks as they unsheath from their slit. She stretches to pear over his tail wrapped around her. There's two, one big cock clearly meant for insemination, the same colour as his white underbelly and a second reddish coloured one, she assumes is meant for extra stimulation. The Naga strokes the big one with one hand, both cocks have slick ooze spilling from them and they're dripping with slick which she guesses is produced from the slit they come out of.

She worms her hand over one of his coils to grip onto his tail, she whines loudly at him. She wants it inside her so bad. He chuckles at her again as more of his precum drips onto her pussy lips.

He can't deny her pleas for long and against his better judgement he prods at her entrance with his cock, rubbing the tip up against her hole.

She grinds up into him and he takes that as the go ahead to slide inside her. The slippery tip sheathes inside her rather easily, it's the rest of him he's worried about. He struggles to hold himself back from pounding the hot tight pussy squeezing around him, he truly doesn't want to hurt the Mage.

Said Mage is almost in tears at being unintentionally edged by him. She squeezes her thighs around his massive waist, squirming around as much as she can. The Naga finds he likes the way her soft naked body wriggles in his coils, he especially likes the way her thigh muscles tense and relax. His sharp claws gently caress the fat of her thighs, curiously squeezing and jiggling the fat slightly. She whines again and he decides to be merciful and slides his cock further inside her while gripping her thighs.

He's too slow, too cautious and she just can't take it anymore.

She mumbles a little spell and the Nagas body feels a sudden force pulling him closer to her making him hiss as his cock is suddenly thrusted to the hilt. The smaller cock is rubbing up against her clit delisciously and the slick coating his cock seeps out of her pussy.

"If I want you to stop, I can make you. Stop, pussying around fuck me."

He stares down at her with blown out eyes, she stares up at him so determined while still being thoroughly bound in his hold. His breathing is more ragged and a grin finds it's way on his face. He looks almost feral and it makes the mages pussy clench around him which makes him reactively thrust back.

She's spun around suddenly in his hold, his tail unwinding until her arms are free and there's one coil left around her waist. Her arms are quickly bound by his own hands, gripping her much smaller arms. He gives a hard thrust into her cunt and growls in her face as she moans back up at him.

He starts a rough pace, having thrown all cation to the wind. Her tight human pussy squeezes him so tight like he squeezes around her body with his tail. The loud wet slapping sounds his hips make against hers make everything even more erotic. His coiled tail around her grips her waist tightly and he groans when he can feel his own cock bulge against her stomach where his tail holds her.

He brings the end of his tail to wrap around her wrists binding them together while his ramming into her soaked pussy.

He speeds up even more and places his palm on top of his smaller dick, pressing it against her clit. His other hand is gripping her under thigh so hard she's pretty sure his claws have pierced her skin. The stimulation on his sensative cock makes him frantically thrust into her until he releases deep inside her. He shakes and spasms as he empties himself into her. If he was more conscious he would be embarrassed at how needy he must have looked.

His orgasm lasts quite awhile longer than she expected, she realises he must have been really pent up as his cock just keeps shooting seed into her every few seconds. The poor Naga looks exhausted when his orgasm finally ends. His eyes are closed, breathing deeply with strands of black hair fall delicately around his face. The tail around her wrists loosens and she immediately goes to pull him down into her embrace, clutching his sweaty body into her warmer one.

He hums into her neck, enjoying her warm softness. His tongue flicks out occasionally to lick her salty skin and smell her on the air.

"Did I tire you out, big guy?"

She jokes, while her hands caress the comparatively massive expanse of his back. She tries to remind herself that he might be inexperienced and more sensitive than usual, she doesn't want him to feel bad about getting overstimulated.

The Naga lifts his head from her neck, his body casts a shadow over hers as he looms over her again. He gives her a sharp fanged grin.

"Don't be so cocky, Mage."

The end of his tail slowly comes from behind to wrap around her neck as the coil still wrapped around her waist lifts her torso up high. His softening cock slips out of her dripping cunt as he lifts her up with his tail. She groans low as she feels the copious amounts of slick and spend fall from her pussy to the floor.

The naga curiously runs his thumb up the length of the mages pussy, gathering up the fluids. He feels a strange urge to keep as much of his cum inside her as possible. Careful of his sharp claws he opts to push his spend back into her pussy with his tongue, feeling the way she squirms and clenches around his forked tongue. The Naga hisses lightly in delight and smooshes his face into the fat warmth of her thigh while looking into her eyes. She peers at him with a dazed look, loving the way his tail lightly squeezes her thoat.

"I'm far from done with you."

As it turns out she didn't get to ask him many questions that night. Not that she complained about it much.

[yourejinx]

Undeniable Bonds

Azriel x F. Reader

Warnings: angst, as per usual. SPOILERS for other SJM series. Mentions of blood, descriptions of injuries, mentions of death, feelings. Not proof read.

Author’s note: Merry Christmas everyone! It took me MONTHS but is finally here, hope you like it. Sorry for making you wait for so long, life has been nothing short of chaotic. I'd like to thank @crazylokonugget , I read your comment. It was the rush of inspiration I needed to get back into writing 🫶🏻

CHAPTER SIX 

The moon was shining big and bright above the night sky in the city, there was music being played by the river despite the chilling winds of the winter and laughter filled the air around The Rainbow. It all seemed so livid, so peaceful and merry in contrast with the emotional turmoil brewing in your insides. 

You were feeling everything at once, every single thing you had tried to keep concealed for centuries now was ready to combust. You felt confused, and angry, resentful, wary…and underneath it all naively hopeful. It would be a lie to say you had successfully gotten rid of your feelings towards Azriel, if anything all the awful things you've done to each other hurted all the more because of that. He was a friend once, and a good one. Gentle, caring, protective, used to actually enjoy the other's presence, go on walks during the nights when the world felt too heavy, just silently supporting each other. Shared laughs at stupid jokes played at Cass and Rhys, sneaking around while in other courts just for the fun of it, knowing no one would ever find you. You were a team. Until one day you weren’t, he just decided it wasn’t worthy and that was it.  

How were you supposed to open up to this person, when he hadn’t even seen the worst in you and deemed you unworthy? How could you ever trust him again? Yet, here you were, walking side by side next to the Sidra like the old times. You could punch yourself in the face just for considering this, every anxious trait screamed at you to leave, you didn’t owe him a single thing, didn’t have to explain anything. So why did you keep walking alongside him? 

“So…uhm,” He started, nervously scratching at his nape. Trying. He was trying to be open, didn’t hold up that mask of coldness to conceal his emotions, not once. “You and Lucien..?”

“None of your business.” you snapped out of instinct. 

He avoided looking directly at you, focusing on some distant light across the bridge. 

You let out a deep breath, this wasn’t going to work. 

“Just talk to him.” Amren’s voice rang in your head. Try. You had to try, you didn’t have to let him know much just…let the conversation flow, right?

“It was a long time ago, even before Amarantha..” you started, casting a sidelong glance at him.

He turned to you, features soft under the moonlight. Gods, he was unfairly beautiful when he wasn’t an ass. You fixed your sight on the river, if only to keep on track. “Nothing really happened, we were young and drunk at one of Tamlin’s masquerades, we made out and that was it.” 

He nodded slowly and cleared his throat, “And now?”

“Is this what you really want to talk about? He’s my friend, not that I owe you any explanation. Or is this your way to ask if Elain is available now?”

You couldn’t help it, the audacity of this male prying into your private life as if he hadn’t been lusting after Lucien’s mate of all people. Hypocrite doesn’t begin to cut it. 

“I don’t care about Elain, I care about you.” 

You wanted to laugh. “Since when? If I recall correctly you despised me until a week ago, you were either insulting me or just blatantly ignoring me in favor of her, or anyone else really. Then all goes to hell and suddenly I’m worth living for?!” 

He grimaced, “You– you remember that?”

You sighed tiredly and sat down on a bench overlooking the Sidra. “Yes, I remember. I just…I don’t understand you.” 

Azriel just stood there beside you, shifting his weight uncomfortably, not being quite sure what to do.  When he didn’t move or say anything you continued, “I want to believe you,” you swallowed around a lump “but do you hear how it sounds? After all we’ve been through. I trusted you and you threw that in my face, how do you expect me to believe that you care about me?” 

This wasn’t going as he was hoping for, but at least it was something. You were speaking to him more than two sentences, which was a lot more than he deserved to be honest. You could yell at him, curse him, punch him in the face if you wished and he would take it. No complaints. Anything if it meant you’d show him how you truly felt, he wasn’t sure he could endure your silence again, knowing how much he had hurt you. He needed you to let it all out, so he could do something to fix it. 

“I don’t expect you to believe me right away, of course not. I know that I have to earn your forgiveness and one day if I’m one lucky bastard I might earn your trust back once more. But I also know that even when I try to make things right you may not forgive me at all, and I’ll accept that too. Honestly? I just want to know how you feel with all that has happened. The only thing that matters now is you.”

You let out a shaky breath, turning away from him. “I don't know what I'm supposed to feel, everything is a mess.” 

He moved then, crouching in front of you and grasping both your hands on his own, making you look at him. The earnest way he was looking at you, the desperate feeling swimming in his eyes that traveled all the way through the bond. It made you gasp, with all that’s been going on you forgot to put a shield up. Now you could feel him, all of him, which meant  he could feel you. 

“I have no damn right to demand such mercy from you, but if for a single moment you find in your heart a spec of doubt, a small sign of will to forgive this coward for wronging you so unfairly, I just want you to know how sorry I am, for everything. I regret it all, I wish I could take it all back. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, until the day I part from this earth I will fight for you.” 

You were quite sure your bottom lip was trembling as much as his hands were, trying miserably to contain the unwelcomed tears pooling in your eyes. Those were such nice words, the silly part of you that always longed for his recognition wanted so desperately to believe, but there were still too many unresolved things, too many questions still running frantically through your head. And one recurrent thought…

“Did I really have to die for you to notice?”  Your words hung heavy in the air, with a mix of accusation and vulnerability.

Azriel, gaze intense and haunted, looked as if you had just punched a hole through his chest. In that moment, the shadows that bound him seemed to soften, and he confessed the truth that had long eluded you both. It wasn't the brush with death that made him take notice; it was the fear of losing you that shattered the carefully constructed barriers around his heart.

"No, it's not about noticing, it's about realizing what it means to lose you," he admitted, his voice a low, gravelly murmur. Azriel's jaw tightened, a small sign that betrayed the internal struggle within him. "It's not so simple. The thought of a world without your laughter, your presence....Losing you was the worst of my nightmares coming true. I've always cared, but I let my past dictate my actions, and I was cruel to you because I couldn't bear the thought of history repeating itself. But I was wrong, and I almost lost you because of it."

“What do you mean?”

You had unconsciously leaned in closer to him and he swallowed audibly at the intensity in your eyes —obsidian black that sometimes showed swirls of violet and blue. Like lightning striking the midnight sky. They were a rare sight, a beautiful one, he knew that only happened when you felt too much. The telltale sign of the emotions you were so desperately trying to hold back from reaching him.  

“I will tell you everything you want to know, in time. I will lay my heart down for you to step on if you wish. But I believe that is a conversation on its own, I wish to explain everything to you and I don’t think I can do it tonight.” He looked almost pleading. “There’s nothing that can excuse the way I treated you, I’ve been a coward, and an asshole and you have every damn right to be angry with me, to hate me. That much I understand. I just hope you’d be willing to listen when the time’s right.” 

You supposed it was fair. It still made you uneasy and you pulled back a little, ignoring the hurt that flashed through his eyes. Given how strained your relationship was, you guessed it was normal he was still doubtful about sharing too much too soon. You weren’t that willing to particularly share much of yourself yet, if ever. 

Gods, you wished you could rage about everything that has happened, and hated the way his words had soothe an ache in your heart you were making an effort not to acknowledge. 

Time. It would take time to heal, and trust, and effort on both sides to make this work. Whatever this white flag he had weaved tonight meant. You knew it was the right call to make, for the sake of everyone, to try and make amends. That didn’t mean it was going to be easy, some things were too deeply engraved in your heart to let go. 

Did it make you a weak, spineless female to want to give in to him? What was the cost of it? 

“Alright,” you muttered, standing to your feet, Azriel followed you. “If I agree to do this, I’ll need you to be patient. I’m not ready yet to let you in, I still have my doubts about this. I think you understand why. But I want to try to be friends again, that’s as much as I can offer you right now.” 

Friends. That was a lot more than he had dared to ask for, even if in his heart he desired more. It wasn’t about him, nor his desires, it was about you and giving you what you need. So if what you needed from him was friendship, he’ll take it. Make the most of it. 

Azriel nodded, something sparkling to life in his eyes that wasn’t there before. The bond thrummed quietly with emotion. Hope. 

“One step at a time?” you offered, extending your hand to him. 

“One step at a time.” He repeated, taking your hand. 

It was awkward but welcomed, the feeling of something settling within your chest. The mating bond had been neglected for so long that the weight of it felt weird now, as if a missing limb had been spoken into existence. Azriel seemed to notice too, absentmindedly reaching his hand up to rub at his chest. 

You tried not to shudder when he gently tugged at it and opened your mouth to suggest keeping the ends closed for the time being. Unless until you were more comfortable with each other. It was way too intimate and overwhelming otherwise, and that you were not ready for yet. 

“Maybe we should–” you stopped as you felt something warm and thick dripping to your lips. Pressing two fingers to the spot and watching them stained red. Blood. 

Azriel quickly caught up to the movement, body stilling in alert.

“What's wrong?” he asked, stepping closer. 

“I don't know,” A strong pang shot too fast to your head making you gasp and causing you to fall forwards. Azriel’s arms instantly wrapped around your shoulders, holding you to him. His shadows were in a frenzy, surrounding you both while he inspected your face for any signs of injury. 

“Y/N? Talk to me, where does it hurt?” He sounded agitated. 

You could hear Azriel’s voice being muffled and muffled by the second, could feel his warmth and the firm press of his body against yours, but everything was quickly becoming a blurry image. Like some distant dream everything started to fade from sight, the whole scenery changing, twisting and re-adapting. 

Velaris had been replaced for a cold, dark room, the air thick and musty. The sound of crashing waves filling the otherwise silent space. Rusty chains hung wicked and ancient from the stone walls, an iron coffin sitting vacant across from you, open and expectantly waiting for its occupier. You couldn’t move a single muscle, only stare through eyes that were not yours, scent with a foreign nose, the smell of fear, and blood, and immense sadness. 

You blinked twice — or rather this…person whose mind seemed blending with yours did— and gazed down to gauntlet-covered hands. Iron, yet again. There was a slight tremble to this other body, a female’s body, from pain so deep from within her guts and the fire blazing underneath, it rose and rose and rose, flaring until it was pushed down and forced to remain still.

She looked up again, to the lone white wolf lying a few feet away, already watching her. The animal tilted his head to the side as if in contemplation and blinked three times. 

“Are you okay?”

—----------------------------------------------

Sound was the first thing to return to you, hurried, hissing voices coming from somewhere around you. 

“I swear on the Cauldron I'll have their heads on spikes as ornamentations for your throne.”  A low, deep growl laced with intent. You recognized Azriel’s baritone voice from beside you. 

Violet and blue-ish gray greeted you when you finally opened your eyes, immediately recognizing the Town’s House living room.

What in hell had that been? It occurred to you that you had dreamed about her before, the female, recognized the same lemon verbena and crackling embers scent from previous dreams, although never catching a full look at her. Who was she? Was she in danger? Was this a warning? 

Frowning you propped up to your elbows to sit, back resting against the couch’s armrest. Feyre gave you a soft smile, sitting down next to your legs. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked, worry staining her features. 

“I'm fine, just a little dizzy.” You craned your neck back to look at the male standing behind the couch, one of his shadows slipping away to caress your cheek before returning to his master. “What happened?” 

Azriel's honey gaze settled upon you, shoulders sagging a bit from relief at the sight of you awake. “You were unconscious for a few minutes, I flew us back here and called Rhys. I didn't know what to do. Are you sure you're ok?” 

“Yeah, I'm alright. Thank you.” You tried to smile softly but barely managed to slightly lift the corners of your mouth. He nodded, unconvinced. After a moment to cringe, you added, “Whose head are we having on spikes?” 

Silence. 

Rhys cleared his throat. “Your brother’s and Damien’s.” Suddenly the room’s temperature dropped. Feyre shifted uncomfortably in her place. We hadn’t openly discussed the situation yet. “If this is a side effect of whatever they did to you, we need to find the–” 

“It 's not.” you interrupted him. 

It wasn't like you didn't want to find them and finish what had started two centuries ago. But it was your fight, you didn't wish to trouble your family with it. Didn't want Rhys particularly involved out of anyone, he was the reason they came back. Albeit unbeknownst to him. They still lusted after his crown, his throne, they wanted vengeance. Your blood as well as his. 

Azriel stared at you, contemplative. You could sense he wanted to ask more but was debating whether it was pushing a boundary or not. It was all new to the two of you, too fresh to know what was appropriate. 

Fidgeting with your entwined fingers on your lap, you decided to offer some truth. Even if they didn't believe you, even if it sounded crazy. 

“This has happened to me my whole life. It doesn't always knock me unconscious, most of the time it's just dreams.” 

Rhys frowned but it was Azriel who asked, “What sort of dreams are those?” 

“I can't fully explain because most of the time I don't understand them. But it is almost like my mind goes somewhere else, like I share one consciousness with another. A female. Though I haven’t figured that out until tonight. I've seen scraps of her mind, and the places She's been, but I don't know her face.” 

You could practically see the engines in Feyre’s mind working.  She had stayed silent for most of the interaction, paying careful attention to each word. 

“And what happened in this…dream? What did you see?” asked Rhys this time. 

“Not much, she seemed to be in some sort of mausoleum? It was barely lit, few candles here and there. It had to be some isolated place next to the sea, I could hear waves crashing against rock. The air was thick and musty. There was a wolf with her.” 

“Do you think it is possible you're dreaming about someone in the Summer Court?” Azriel caught your attention once more. 

“I don't know, could be. But it feels off. There were chains on the walls…and an iron coffin. But she was alive, I think. Maybe she’s a prisoner?” You turned to Feyre then. “You’ve been there when stealing the Book of Breathings, does this sound familiar? Some place you may have seen?” 

She shook her head. “No it doesn't. That doesn't mean it does not exist, I didn't get to see much of the Summer Court. But why would Tarquin keep an iron coffin?” 

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don't know, it doesn't make sense. Why would I be dreaming of a female in the Summer Court? How do I relate to that?” 

“What if they're not dreams, per say, but visions? Like Elain's…” she pursed her lips, deep in thought. 

Azriel tensed beside me, I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. I hadn't seen Elain around that much after Solstice night, coming to think of it. Does he think it's my fault? 

“Hadn't thought of it that way. Honestly, I read too much, since I was a kid. I was convinced my mind made it all up until it started to happen during day time. But either way, I don't think this is the case. I mean, nothing that I dreamt of has happened, and if it did, it didn't involve any of us. So we have no way of knowing about it.” 

“It still bugs me. There has to be some explanation to it. It clearly affects you, I don't believe it's normal that these dreams cause you nosebleeds and make you pass out. What if it gets worse?” Rhys pointed out. 

“Beats me. I know as much as you do.” 

“We’ll have to look into it. Whatever this is, and whoever that person may be. Is there something else you remember?” Azriel's brows were pulled together tightly, but his eyes were gentle when he settled them upon me. 

“I just…one time I recall feeling her, here in Velaris. I — she— saw you two.” You pointed to your high lord and lady. Rhys stilled. “But it was like she was falling from the sky, or rather falling through. You were pregnant with little Nyx.” You told Feyre and turned your head to look at Azriel. “I don't remember much about it. I must have passed out, you found me in the hallway shortly after.” 

Azriel gave a tense nod. “I remember you lying face down on the top of the stairs, your books thrown all over the place. Your nose wasn't bleeding though, I thought you were drunk.” he said apologetically.  

I shrugged. “You didn't know, and I couldn't explain either.” 

“If this is a person that's been here without us knowing, then we must start to investigate immediately.” Rhys cut in. 

“But where do we start?” I asked. 

“I'll see if the wards of Velaris had been tampered with, for starters. Maybe we can find some imprint of magic. In the meantime I’d say you learn about bonds and connections, how they work, check your mental shields. If you have access to her mind then there's a possibility she has access to yours, there has to be a link somewhere.” 

“Alright, I'll start to look into it right away. There has to be something in the library about mental connections.” 

“You should rest now.” Azriel placed a hand on my shoulder. “I'll help with the research tomorrow. We can go to the library after training the Valkyries. If that's okay with you.” 

You nodded and relaxed a little. Ignoring the warmth that his touch had spread across your back. 

“Yeah, it's fine. Tomorrow then.” 

—---------------------------------------------------

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[astralexpressarchives]

Bird Symbolism on the Xianzhou

This all started with a question I asked my friend: "Well, have you ever seen a bird on the Xianzhou?"

Birds have played a major role in my very autistic investigations of Xianzhou lore. My intuition just knew that they were important so I started cataloguing every instance of birds appearing on the Xianzhou. I'll start with the more common appearances and then delve into the more obscure ones.

I would also like to preface this by saying I am not a bird scientist nor am I particularly interested in birds outside of the context of HSR. I simply noticed there were some repeating patterns and really wanted to make note of them.

So here's all the times I've seen a bird on the Xianzhou.

The Boring Ones

Sky-faring Commission/Starskiff Bird Symbol

This bird shows up all over the Xianzhou on buildings and signage. It is used on the signs indicating starskiffs but honestly can show up anywhere. Large associations with the sky-faring commission. Highly likely it is inspired by the white bird later in the post.

Jing Yuan's Finches

Another really obvious one as most people are familiar with his finches. As far as I know, they only appear in relation to Jing Yuan and don't seem to have any meaning outside of sheer vibes.

Before Dawn Lightcone:

"Do not make this decision lightly, general... Think about how you will be remembered in history..." The general of the Cloud Knights listens to his subordinates' words with eyes half-closed. "History will make its own judgment, but I have no interest in my legacy." "If I succeed, history will state that I am currently supremely confident in my masterful strategy." "But if I fail, then history will state that I am currently neglecting my duties in wanton pleasure, preferring finches over my people." A finch jumps down from his shoulder, and he extends his hand to catch the small creature. "I have simply made my own decision."

Yukong's Kestral

Similar to the bird that appears on Yanqing, Yukong's Kestral is a symbol that is connected to her beloved Caiyi.

Past and Future Lightcone:

The wings of the paper kite in her hands were broken, brutally reminding her of her beloved's tragic passing. She kneeled next to the fire of war, eyes full of sorrow. "If you are the only one left to do this, then our sacrifice would..." Gunfire raged on, painting the sky red without dampening its majesty. She looked up at the sky, eyes full of fury.

Edit: Qingque and Phoenix

These aren't related to anything as far as I can tell but there is also this bird that appears on Qingque's outfit.

There's also a phoenix that shows up in the Palace of Astrum and again in the Seven Arbiter Generals myriad. It may be something related to the history of the Xianzhou (the planet they came from in particular) because it appears on each of those panels outlining the backstory.

The Fun Ones

Yanqing's Swallow

Now starting to get into the territory of birds that are actually pretty interesting to the lore. The swallow is a bird that is literally everywhere on Yanqing. The painting is found near the Petrichor Inn. - this is significant because the Petrichor Inn has strong associations with the Vidyadhara. The also appear on the handle of his sword and in his splashart.

River Flows in Spring Lightcone:

The young boy took a short break from his sword practice. The sunlight was baking his already heated neck. He slowly got into the water, whose coldness touched his bare feet. When the bell chimes and birds tweet, even the people far away would know that springtime had arrived.

The Water Birds

Repeated appearance of birds made of water both in relation to Yanqing and found in cages in the Vidyadhara section of the Xianzhou. I believe these are some kind of spirit birds similar to the water creatures that swim through the Scalegorge Waterscape and Dan Heng's own azure dragon. These are probably similar to the Oceanids of Genshin Impact where they actually contain souls that take whatever shape they want in the water - probably the souls of dead Vidyadhara if I had to guess. Why are they being caged and sold around the Xianzhou in Vidyadhara areas? I have literally no idea at this point.

Yanqing has these ice swallows appear during his attacks. There's a recurring theme of swords containing souls in Xianxia stories which is also loosely connected to the concept of Blade's sword graveyard in the Hellscape. I think Yanqing's ice birds are somehow souls similar to the water birds caged around the Xianzhou.

The uber weird part about all of this is how at the end of Yanqing's ultimate you see this image. In the background of the image are the mountains associated strongly with the Vidyadhara and Dan Heng in particular.

I don't know what this means for Yanqing right now but he is an expy of a pre-existing character from Honkai Impact 3rd: Ma Yanqing. They probably have some plan for him that isn't immediately apparent right now but I would like to point out that his grandmaster, Jingliu, is also heavily associated with the mountain moon realm and can also summon a sword made of water/ice. This does not appear to be a technique known by anyone else and Jingliu herself needed to defeat the abomination in order to acquire her singular ice sword.

The Crane

Appearing initially only on Dan Feng's clothing, the crane has made a comeback in the new Cloud Knights Martial Doctrine, On Swords myriad trailer. They are significant because the also appear among the mountain realm and the moon. Notice the association Jingliu, Yanqing, and Dan Heng in particular.

The Black Bird

So not all the birds in this picture are distinctly black but their colour is ambiguous and they are similarly shaped so I'm lumping them together. They all appear in association with the mountain area - Blade's sword graveyard is also in the mountain area. The top right picture is from Dan Heng's first fansong.

The White Bird

Not sure what species of bird this is supposed to be but there's a white bird that appears repeatedly in association with the mountain realm. More specifically, it appears among the clouds and may freely travel from the Scalegorge to the Mountains through the hole in the clouds. Bottom left is from Blade's fansong. I think these birds may represent souls and the dead in the same way that Blade's spiderlilies and swords do.

There's also this bird above the realm-keeping commission that I'm unsure how to categorize because of it's unique shape but it's also among the mountains and moon.

Edit: Dan Shu's Bird

This one is actually important for the spirit bird concept. In the Longevous Disciple relic set she tells us of a story that inspires her:

According to the legend, a certain delvemaster saved her partner by placing their soul into a bird, granting them immortality. However, she eventually could not resist the call of the avian and also transformed into a bird, flying alongside them. Over time, the delvemaster became confused and lost her true form, becoming a half-feathered, half-human monster. When her subjects stormed the palace and pierced her with blazing spears and arrows, the two birds sang a final mournful song and turned to ashes together. She loved this story so much that she took the essence and marrow of birds and transformed them in the alchemical furnace, then had someone weave these materials into a luxurious feather coat. She could not see just how beautiful the coat was, but nonetheless enjoyed walking around the house while wearing it — it was meant to be seen by a person who no longer existed. As the garb fluttered, she always felt that a bird-like soul was flying and passing through her hands and shoulders, ever-present.

It's not clear how much of the legend is actually true but it could be inspired by the spirit birds.

I think I've said just about everything that I wanted to say. I'm curious if anyone else has any thoughts on the birds. I've listed most of them but there are one or two paintings I left out from fear of repetition.

I have a lot of additional Thoughts about the birds but I'll leave that for another post.

[monstrousgourmandizingcats]

Some books and stories that I think are worth reading in conversation with Yellowjackets

Shirley Jackson, all works but especially The Sundial, The Haunting of Hill House, and We Have Always Lived in the Castle. Jackson might or might not need any introduction in this fandom. The Sundial is her take on doomsday preppers, Hill House is of course her haunted house novel (one of the classics of that genre), and Castle has a female protagonist who makes Shauna look like a plaster saint.

Flannery O'Connor, The Violent Bear It Away. O'Connor's work has some of the most pervasive darkness and brutality of any major American writer (maybe Ambrose Bierce comes close), and the second of two novels that she completed before her death is no exception. (The first, Wise Blood, is also very good; the intended third, Why Do the Heathen Rage?, only exists as a fragmentary short story.) Francis Marion Tarwater is kidnapped and raised in the woods by his great-uncle, who is convinced that Francis is destined to be a prophet. The great-uncle's death commences a bizarre adventure involving auditory hallucinations, sinister truckers, an evil social worker, arson, developmental disabilities, and baptizing and drowning someone at the same time. Content warnings for all of the above plus rape. O'Connor is also a fairly racist author by today's standards--she was a white Southerner who died in 1964--so keep that in mind as well.

Ruth Ozeki, The Book of Form and Emptiness. Teenage protagonist is schizophrenic and also a channel for a genuinely supernatural force; well-intentioned but poorly-considered efforts to treat one of these issues make the other worse. Sound familiar? There are supporting characters who are affectionate parodies of Slavoj Zizek and Marie Kondo. A minor character is a middle-aged lesbian who cruises dating apps for hookups with much younger women. Some people find this book preachy and overwritten, but I really like it and would plug it even if I didn't because the author is someone whom I've met and who has been supportive of my own writing.

Yukio Mishima, The Decay of the Angel. Can be read in translation or in the original Japanese. This is the fourth and last book in a series called The Sea of Fertility but I wouldn't necessarily recommend the first three as particularly YJ-ish; Decay is because it deals at great length with issues of doubt and ambiguity about whether or not a genuinely held, but personally damaging, spiritual and religious belief is true. There's also more (as Randy Walsh would put it) lezzy stuff than is usual for Mishima, a gay man. Content warnings for elder abuse, sexual abuse of both children and vulnerable adults in previous books in the series, forced abortion in the first book if you decide to read the whole thing from the beginning, and the fact that in addition to being a great novelist the author was also a far-right political personality.

Howard Frank Mosher, Where the Rivers Flow North. An elderly Vermont lumberjack and his Native American common-law wife refuse to sell their land to a development company that wants to build a hydroelectric power plant. Tragedy ensues. I haven't read this one in a long time but some images from the movie stick in my mind as YJ-y. Lots of fire, water, and trees.

Leonard Cohen, Beautiful Losers. Yes, this is the same Leonard Cohen who later transitioned into songwriting and became a household name in that art form. Beautiful Losers is a very weird, very horny novel that he wrote as a young man; it deals with the submerged darkness and internal tension within Canadian and specifically Quebecois society. One of the main characters is Kateri Tekakwitha, a seventeenth-century Iroquois convert to Catholicism who was probably a lesbian in real life (although Cohen unfortunately seems unaware of this). This one actually shows up YJ directly; the song "God Is Alive, Magic Is Afoot" that plays in the season 2 finale takes its lyrics from a particularly strange passage.

Monica Ojeda, Jawbone. Can be read in translation or in the original Spanish. Extremely-online teenage girls at a posh bilingual Catholic high school in Ecuador start their own cult based on such time-honored fodder as Herman Melville novels, internet creepypasta (no, this book does not look or feel anything like Otherside Picnic), and their repressed but increasingly obvious desire for one another. The last part in particular gets the attention of their English teacher, whose own obsessive internalized homophobia grows into one of the most horrifying monstrous versions of itself I've ever read. Content warning for just about everything that could possibly imply, but especially involuntary confinement, religious and medical abuse, and a final chapter that I don't even know how to describe. Many thanks to @maryblackwood for introducing me to this one.

Jorge Luis Borges, lots of his works but especially "The Aleph," "The Cult of the Phoenix," and "The South." Can be read in translation or in the original Spanish. The three works I list are all short stories. The first deals with mystical experiences and the comprehensibility (or lack thereof) of the universe, the second with coded and submerged references to sexuality in general and homosexuality in particular, the third with leaving your well-appointed city home for a ranch in the middle of nowhere and almost immediately dying in a knife fight, which is surely a very YJ series of things to do.

H.P. Lovecraft, "The Colour out of Space," "The Dunwich Horror," "The Dreams in the Witch House," and "The Thing on the Doorstep." Lovecraft in general needs no introduction--the creepiness, the moroseness, the New Englandness, the purple heliotrope prose, his intense racism (recanted late in life but not in time to make any difference in his reception history) and the way his work reflects his fear of the Other. These short stories are noteworthy for having settings that are more woodsy and less maritime than is usual for Lovecraft's New England, for overtones of the supernatural rather than merely the alien, for featuring some of his few interesting female characters, and for their relative lack of obvious racial nastiness. Caveat lector nevertheless.

Herman Melville, Moby-Dick. It's Moby-Dick. Once you realize that Captain Ahab is forming a cult around the whale and his obsession with it you can't unrealize it.

[stardresstaurus]

Recovery Time - A NaLu OneShot

Summary: after a rough battle and the absence of Wendy, Lucy finds it difficult to recover on her own. (also posted on my Wattpad)

This is the first NaLu fic I’ve written since pre-pandemic!

There's a haze among the guild. It's hot, it feels like it's never been warmer. To Lucy, the world has a bit of a shake to it, like the heat is causing the floor and air to boil. She knows that's not the case, however it doesn't keep her from groaning and resting her forehead on the warm, rough surface of the wooden table. She looks down at her thighs and counts the colorful bruises one at a time, the team had returned from a mission the other day but Wendy had been called on to help a group of Magnolia citizens after an attack on the harbor, meaning the group was left to defend for themselves when it came to healing.

She felt some weight place itself next to her at the table. "You okay Lucy," Erza asked her. Erza had managed to be dressed down that day, wearing a t shirt and shorts as she mended her armor.

"Hmm? Yeah, I think so."

"You seem really out of it," Erza stated. She watched Lucy's shoulders slowly rise and fall as her fingers traced a scab on her knee. "I think maybe you should see Porlyusica, something might be wrong." The attention Erza was giving her had been noticed by both Gray and Natsu, who had halted their bickering in order to see what the issue was. When questioned, she simply stated that Lucy was in a daze.

"She's probably just hot," Gray stated, "it is kinda warm out today." Natsu chuckled, hearing Cana make a quip about how the ice boy could actually feel heat, then turning to Juvia saying, "maybe he'll notice the heat you have for him too." Erza placed a hand onto Lucy's shoulder and it was not until the moment when Lucy's body wavered and she had to prop herself up with one of her arms that the rest of the team took the situation seriously.

Natsu took her arm and wrapped it up behind his shoulders, he lifted her as she got to her feet. "C'mon Luce," he said simply. He took her by the arm and helped pull her up onto his back. Lucy didn't have the energy to argue just nodded and said her good-byes to the guild, everyone wishing her well. Happy flew up beside her, concern painted lightly across his face.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me."

"But you're not acting like yourself. Are you hurt that badly?"

"I don't think so," Lucy replied. She thought about it though, maybe she was. But she was so used to getting hurt that the pain was never as bad as it used to be, and she was so used to being healed after a battle that she rarely had to go through a recovery process anymore. Maybe that was the issue, her body wasn't able to recover quickly on its own anymore. "Where are we going?" She asked. Her question had Natsu stop in his tracks.

"I have no idea."

"What do you mean you have no idea?"

"I kinda just assumed we'd end up somewhere."

Lucy groaned, "let's just go to my apartment." The walk there Happy hovered above, continuously asking Lucy questions about how she was doing. She responded as best as she could, but a part of her wanted him to just be quiet, even for a few minutes. She hoped Natsu would say something, but if he said anything it was a question that followed up Happy's. He did fall silent, however, along the river. Lucy rested her cheek against his back and watch the rays of sunlight flicker off the miniature waves of water. Magnolia was quiet this afternoon. Over the sounds of the water flowing against the stone boundaries, she listened to the wooden wheels of carts creek to and from the market. The peacefulness of it all, had Lucy yearning for sleep, despite Natsu's grip on her, keeping her from falling off. On his back, his hands were clenched onto her thighs. If she hadn't been as tired as she was in that moment, she may have tried to shout at him to move his hands. But in this moment, she was happy for the moment of intimacy. It was always easier to be close to him when no one was around.

Not necessarily sexual, no. Really just the feeling of having someone so close, that you cared so much for and who cared so much for you, being able to show that care in more than just words. Words can be faked, but there was some truth in the physical acts. She turned her head so her face was directly on his back. With her eyes closed, she could smell him. He smelled burnt, but not like faded campfire or grilled barbecue like he normally did. It reminded her of a cologne her dad used to wear when her mother was still alive, like sage and bergamot. But there was a spice to him, because of course there was, it was Natsu.

Without much thought she turned her face from the river view into his hair, which felt soft against her skin. She took in a deep breath, cinnamon. With her eyes closed, she nuzzled against him. An act that, if she were in better shape, she would have been embarrassed to do. Normally, she was  determined to hide her affections. Today however was different. Let me have this, she thought. "Lucy?" 

"Hm?" She perked up, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Can I have your key?"

As she dug her key out of her pocket she tried to get off his back, but Natsu tightened his grip. It was a silent disagreement. He carried her up to her apartment, not letting her down until they were inside. Once her feet were on the ground, she trudged to her bathroom, forcing down any feeling of anxiety or embarrassment she had. A bath would help, she told herself.

The boy and the cat had settled themselves on her living room floor, Happy sighed gratefully as he plugged in the fan and it was brought to a monotonous life. She could hear the two mumble at each other like a pair of birds on a railing as she turned on her faucet. The somewhat warm water invigorated the soap and bubbles began to build across the surface. Taking off the clothes that stuck to her skin like glue from the sweat, she slowly let herself slip into the tub, the calm of the water enveloped her like a blanket fresh out of the dryer. Resting on her side, she hummed a soft tune to herself, purely out of comfort, and watched her bathroom door. 

As she tried to focus on anything else, her anxieties came back tenfold. He's your friend, a teammate, you can't have these kinds of feelings. Of course, she had no idea that Natsu was sitting outside, thinking about how it felt to have his partner's lips pressed against him through the collar of his jacket. Of course, neither of them were on the same page. Lucy tried to focus again on the door as she tried to remember the lyrics to a song. You're holding me and holding back, I don't really care for that, just you. She had noticed for the first time the paint around the frame was beginning to chip. Her eyes began to hood themselves as she soaked, all the comfort in that moment could only bring her so much energy.

When she opened her eyes again, however, she was shivering. Her immediate thought was to get out of the bath but as she took in her surroundings, she realized she was already in her bed. In one of her spare nightgowns her duvet was sprawled across her, with an extra blanket on top. As her body continued to shake she pulled the blanket up to her chin and curled her legs up to her chest.

"You fell asleep in the tub," a voice from the kitchen said. Natsu leaned out so she could see him.

The events began to process in Lucy's mind. "You saw me naked? You dressed me?"

"You ask that like it's never happened before." He had gone back into the kitchen, she could hear water boiling in her kettle. Why did he have to be so nonchalant about it, every time. 

"Don't blow up my kitchen!"

"I know how to make tea!" He said, replicating the energy she had in her concern. He reappeared with two mugs of tea, holding both by the rim rather than the handle. He handed one to Lucy who took it with many thanks. She sat up, resting against her headboard and pillow as Natsu sat at the edge of the bed. With her mug brought up to her lips, she kept her gaze on him, watching his movements. He seemed focused on something. Not really staring at anything in particular, his gaze was steady as his eyes glazed over. 

"Where'd Happy go?" Lucy asked after taking a long sip of her tea. He seemed to be brought back to reality at the sound of her voice. 

"Huh? Oh, He went to see Wendy and Carla. He wanted to see if she could help you." Lucy couldn't tell, but Natsu had been especially worried. Ever since Tartaros, he had become aware of sensitive he was to Lucy's well being. She was strong, a terrific fighter and a great friend. But once he realized it was possible to loose her forever, every battle and every hit felt almost like a step closer to an end. He took the time to try to be closer and more attentive to her well being. 

To be perfectly honest, he was even happy just being in her apartment. When he first started barging in, it was purely because he wanted to be with his friend and her apartment was always a clean, welcoming space. Now it felt like a seclusion, a comfort in a world that willing to erase anything and everything. It was a space that had become synonymous with safety to him. He almost indulged the soft, sweet, floral scent of the apartment and the golden light that fell through the bare wooden framed windows. 

He felt a tug on the blanket he was sitting on and turning his gaze towards Lucy he noticed her moving closer to the edge of her bed and lifting up the corner of her duvet, she was making room for him. He moved up the bed and sat next to her as she flipped the corner over his lap. 

"Thank you for taking care of me today," she said, "I know it's probably not how you wanted to spend your afternoon." 

"Don't worry about it, it's probably for the best anyway." He said, taking a sip from his mug. Immediately embarrassed, and gradually becoming annoyed, Lucy looked into the depths of her mug. 

"You're welcome to leave, if Happy shows up here again I'll let him know you left." She expected him to say, in a minute, or to take the opportunity to go back to the guild. Anything but what he did. He slid his right arm under and around her left, the rough canvas of the bandages rubbed against her soft skin. He leaned his head to the side, resting it against her. In that moment, they were simply two tired teammates allowing themselves to rest against each other. 

Natsu wondered how small she was. Not that she was tiny, but compared to him she was like a china doll. Porcelain limbs and shinning glass eyes, a woman who should have been kept on a pedestal rather than thrown into a battlefield. But, then again, Lucy had personally jumped from that pedestal. Personally thrown herself in the most dangerous situations, often for the people she cared so deeply for. And after everything, the cracks in the glass would heal and the eyes would widen again. She would always be the stronger than he ever knew, and he knew she could do anything. 

He would never admit it, but he was worried this time. When all was said and done after the job, he couldn't find Lucy at the end. In recent months she would always be there at the end, offering him a hand or support. She wasn't this time. He had found her in the woods, propped up against a hollowing tree, gazing at him and smiled. The words, you're okay, I'm so glad! came out as a whisper, he hardly heard her. She had fallen asleep against him as he carried her back to meet with the rest of the team. The whole trip home, she only said a few words to him. He hoped she would've been better today. But she was still only a faded version of her usual self. 

Lucy moved her hand towards his, running her thumb back and forth across his palm. Things can go back to normal later. For now she was at peace enjoying his company, and he was at peace knowing she was there. 

[hcdragonwrites]

River (Jttw-Monkeybuisness)

Ok I wrote another thing for @jttw-monkeybusiness there art inspires me and makes my brain itch and honestly I love Sophie to death so here you go!

And yes I suck at naming things when they are snippets of stuff I just usually name it what it’s about.

‘Getting water should be easy’ Sophie thought.

However it seemed that whatever gods were watching their trek today through China must have been bored and made this their entertainment for the evening.

Force the girl Buddha had plucked out of time to get water. Well it was unfair to assume it was the Buddha but whatever magical force actually had pulled her out of her time? Well that being was a massive dick. Sophie strained her arm, feeling the sway of the tree branch she clung to bobbed under her weight.

The banks of this river were steep as Trip and the group were making their way through mountains. The steep sides slide right into the dark water, rushing by in silent swirls of black- and offering no safe place for any traveler to easily reach it. The tree branch that Sophie now climbed upon, hung low enough off the steep riverbank, almost kissing the water with its bark. Moss had begun to grow from its limbs from the constant moisture. It offered Sophie a perfect opportunity.

She had both legs and arm hooked around the branch as it swayed, one free hand straining forward and dipping the water skins into the dark flow.

Jesus it’s freezing, she thought as her fingers dipped beneath the black current. Must be a runoff from a snow melt… If she fell into it she would be soaked and cold to the bone. Sophie shook herself, scattering that intrusive thought.

‘Only two more skins to go…’. She yanked the first one up, muscles burning. She lay flat, stomach hugging the branch and trying not to slip. Sophie wasn’t the most athletic person but she wasn’t a pushover either. Getting water was something she could do. Maybe she couldn’t fight Gods and humble the heavens like Wukong. Maybe she couldn’t breathe underwater and spear demons like Sandy.

Pigsy- well he was a fighter but mostly she had seen him run either away from a fight, pick a fight with Wukong, or fight to run towards women. Most of the time those women were demons in disguise that Wukong warned about. Sandy and her had a betting game going on silently between themselves as to which women were women and which were demons that wanted to devour Trip or herself. Mostly Trip but sometimes she would be mentioned.

So far the score was tipping in Sandy’s favor(who guessed mostly that the women they ran into were real women)- but only because the last village they had been in had been plagued by a child devouring rat demon. It was a morbid kind of way to make light of a situation that just kept recurring as Pisgy never learned.

Tripitaka even had his own abilities to commend, if some of those abilities didn’t translate over to combat. Staying still, meditating, being able to see the good in everyone - Sophie could hear Wukong now, thoroughly ripping into Trip for that belief- those were all traits that helped.

Sophie- a Girl out of time- was determined to have her own uses.

And if that was just doing minimal tasks then she would be GRAND at them!

She uncorked the last water skin and dipped it beneath the water as twilight began to descend into the gorge. The water turned black by the lack of light made Sophie’s stomach twist just a bit. There’s nothing in the water Sophie- nothing at all.

Her reassurances fell short. She had seen too much of demons and gods and magical mojo to really believe that nothing was staring up at her.

What happened next was a factor of several things. The first of those things we can lay blame at the feet of one Monkey King.

Sun Wukong had been given the task of collecting some fresh meat for the stew Trip was preparing and had sent Wukong to find some. The meat was mostly for Sophie and the rest but Trip would also partake. Being a Buddhist he usually kept to a strict vegetarian diet of noodles and soups. However, even he understood that on the road the pilgrims did not have much choice in diet.

So Wukong had gone, easily catching several rabbits and a large goose from further down the river. After his return and depositing them at Pigsys feet to be cleaned and prepped, Wukong was disappointed in the lack of praise. Usually bringing in a haul of food would give him some thanks- however the person that usually did the thanking was … missing.

“Where is the Reader?” Wukong demanded, arms crossing and tail lashing in annoyance.

Pigsy looked up at him from beneath bushy eyebrows. “Sophie,” Pigsy drawled, taking the first rabbit and cutting it clean of its pelt, “went to fill the water skins.”

“Alone? No one thought to go with her?” Wukong made a scoffing noise. Between her and the Monk there had been too many occasions where a demon had taken them as bait to lure out the infamous Monkey King. Didn’t she know by now that she couldn’t just wander off?

“She is not a Child, Brother.” Sandy interjected. The great water demon was sitting cross legged at the fire, stirring the pot. As Pigsy quickly and methodically cleaned the animals, Sandy was just as quick in adding them to the stew. The aroma was already becoming tantalizing. “She wanted a task and was given one. You know she does not like to be idle when there are things to do.”

“I wasn’t saying idleness was the correct answer.” Wukong picked at an invisible dust mote on his sleeve and flicked it away. He was feigning boredom when in reality he felt an itch under his fur. It was his responsibility to keep the mortals safe on this quest.

That included Trip and Sophie. The monk was easy to keep in one place, unless there were people that kept begging for help. Which - happened more than Wukong would care to admit.Sophie was … not so easily manageable.

That stupid women wanted to be as helpful as possible. Whether that be fetching supplies in town, carrying messages for the monk, or even tending to Yulong, she was always trying to keep busy. Which wouldn’t have been a problem for the Monkey King if it didn’t make his fur itch terribly so.

The itching would only go away after he knew she hadn’t gotten eaten by some wannabe river god.

“She needs to wait until I am back. Then she could have asked me for my help and I would have obliged.”

“I think the monkey likes Sophie.” Pigsy mock stage whispered, earning a murderous glare from Wukong. Pigsy flinched back, rubbing at the phantom pain on his head from the last time he had egged Wukong on a bit too much.

“She is only down by the river.” Sandy peacefully interjected before Wukong to react to Pigsys tone. “Just past the bend- I made sure she knew not to go farther.”

At least Sandy knew how danger inclined the mortals in their group were.

Wukong turned and left the camp, walking to the river not far off. The women wasn’t too far away to warrant an escort- she had learned from the last couple of times of almost being devoured or snatched up to not wander so far- but his fur wouldn’t lie flat on his shoulders. It itched terribly so. The sooner he could see her, the sooner the itching would go away.

As he came around the bend he saw her. Sophie was clinging to a tree that looked like it could be swept away into the river at any moment, legs hugging the branch as one hand dipped into the water. Her hair hung down, almost skimming the black surface. Wukongs fur stopped itching and he smoothed it down. Since no one but he was near Sophie to see, and she being too occupied by the river to even notice, he decided to indulge himself and stared openly.

When she had first joined their pilgrimage he had been pissed. Another human to take care of, to babysit, to feed was not what Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, had signed up for. If he was being honest with himself, none of this pilgrimage was what Wukong had voluntarily signed up for.

Sophie was strange to boot. Fair of skin, eyes and hair, she looked like a spirit from some heavenly court. However she did not act like any women in the Jade Emperor's Palace, because on one of the more ridiculous of their days where The monk had almost been married to a demon queen and Wukong had to break through and kill a little too much, Sophie had let loose a string of curses that were so foreign and colorful that the Monkey King had been momentarily shaken from his indifference at her to turn and inquire to what those phrases even meant.

It had been the start to something Wukong would never admit openly to. It had grown since that day as he learned that, while she may look pretty, she was no women in courtly garb or village outpost. She had a sharp mind, always asking questions and trying to figure out the why and the how of everything. Why did Wukong have a staff that could shrink and be tucked in his ear? Where had Wukong learned to shapeshifter? How had he been able to master duplicating himself with just a bit of fur and spit?

Sophie was open about questions of herself- where she had come from, what she had done before (something about being an artist) and why she looked the way she did (this last bit was rude on Wukongs part and had had the monk use the circlet around his brow as a reprimand. ‘We don’t ask why they look a certain way Wukong," he had said. The Monkey king had not meant it rudley- more or less he just wanted to know where in the world other people like her existed - that looked like her.)

She didn’t like blood so that was a bit of a downside. But an upside was she wasn’t afraid to go toe to toe when the Monk was being so incredibly and unreasonably unfair in his punishments. Wukong didn’t kill too much. Just enough.

Wukong hadn’t had anyone stick up for him like that.

So Sun Wukong decided to play- though no one else would see it as such. Tormenting and teasing and egging and goading were usually not considered human equivalencies of play. On Flower Fruit Mountain those had been the height of games and pastimes. Finding the little things that would itch someone’s skin, that could in turn get right beneath the armor of good words and embarrass the person enough to stumble out of their rehearsed facade and reveal the true self was a specialty of the Monkey Kings. He had done so with all the attendants in Heaven, with all the would-be demon conquerors that marched onto his doorstep. Dig at something long enough and you will find what makes them tick

So Wukong poked at Sophie’s person. He took things from her bag when bored and kept them away (it wasn’t hard and he didn’t have to even make himself bigger to do so). Wukong would try and goad her into playing pranks with him, sometimes even dragging her halfway through one before letting her know that it was a prank. He would answer her questions, insult her intelligence by calling her stupid women, and challenge her on her moral standings. He did everything in the monkey fashion that would be considered teasing and mildly bullying to figure out who she was.

He didn’t realize till it was too late that this had become more than a game to him. He was enjoying this.

Wukong didn’t get to watch her openly. Pigsy would think him infatuated with her and then he would become insufferable. That couldn’t happen. So Wukong would steal glimpses, brush shoulders, take hidden moments like when Sophie had turned to him, eyes shining and bright, and had begged to be lifted up so she could pet a few monkeys perched within a tree. Wukong could still feel the weight of her on his arm, the smell of her. She had been so enamored with the monkeys above that he didn’t have to worry. He could watch her without disguise.

Like he was now. Her face was screwed up in concentration, lip between her teeth as she corked the water skin and swung it onto the bank. She may be a weak mortal but she had good aim. Sophie placed the last one in the water, blue eyes glittering in the twilight. He would have to teach her how to properly hang. She was so limited in movement on that branch, clinging to it like a cat. It was improper and she could still easily slip into the water and be lost. It was a good thing Wukong was here then.

So it was, in part, the Monkey Kings fault for what happened next. And in part, Sophie’s mind is at fault. Wukong was as silent as a tiger, walking up and onto the tree without a sound. And as he was silent and watching, Sophie’s mind was loud and preoccupied.

She only had one more skin to fill but her mind wouldn’t let go of the thought of there being some beast or creature watching her. Waiting for her. It was just like the irrational fear children get when they swim into the deep part of a swimming pool- that somehow someway a shark would come from the clear cemented depths and devour them.

Only- this wasn’t a clear swimming pool. And this wasn’t some childhood fear anymore. Sophie had seen Tripataka almost go underwater from a river monsters grasping hands. If it hadn’t been for Sandy at that time, the monk would have drowned. She shivered. The sooner she got back to camp and away from the spooky dark water and the night, the better.

“There!” She felt the weight was sufficient enough and quickly corked the water skin. Sophie could get down now, off this tree and back into the warm and comforting light of the fire. Maybe she could ask Wukong for another of his stories- well histories as he called them. He was good at telling stories- if they were centered around himself. She went to throw the water skin, already calming down—

Eyes.

Glowing eyes watching her from above. Something human shaped in the foliage—

“Fucking shit!”

Panic set in and instinct. She flinched back, dropping the skin—

And slipping headfirst into the water. The cold shocked her body, screaming for her to get UP GET OUT DANGER- and she kicked back to the surface, spluttering. The current however was stronger than she thought and was already yanking her down to begin with. Her clothes were a weight that the water happily tugged down, mangling it with the current.

Something shot out and grabbed her around the middle and pulled.

OH GODS THERE IS A WATER DEMON THATS IN HERE! Sophie swung out, flailing wildly to get free. Her hands hit something but it was like hitting stone. She would not end up as someone’s meal or bride or servant or anything else. The thing that had a grip on her didn’t let go. But it didn’t haul her under- it hauled her up. As she breached the surface, she spat water from between her lips, her hair blocking her face.

She breathed in just enough air to start threatening.

“WHOEVER OR WHATEVER YOU ARE, JUST KNOW IF YOU EAT ME YOU WILL REGRET IT.” Sophie breathed in more air so she could get louder- if she was loud enough maybe Sandy or Pigsy would hear. If Wukong was back he would definitely hear her. She had to fight until she could get enough air in her lungs to holler louder. She swung again, connecting to what felt like a face- but it was like runing her hand into a brick wall. “I HAVE A FRIEND WHOS THE BEST MONKEY IN THE WHOLE WORLD WHO WILL SKIN YOU—“

Another hand caught her wrist, holding away. Sophie would just have to swing her free hand around and —

“Stop fucking flailing women you will bring the whole branch back into the river !” The person hissed and Sophie paused. She pulled the wet hair out of her face with her free hand.

“Wukong?”

The Monkey King was holding her close, one arm wrapped around her middle and the other holding one of her previously flailing wrists. His eyes were narrowed to angry yellow slits.

“You idiot who else would it be ?” His face was wet from where Sophie must have obviously punched him and splashed water at him.

“What are you doing out here- I thought-“

“I came to fetch you since you were taking so long and everyone was worrying about you.” He adjusted his grip, and hopped off the branch and back onto solid earth. “Then you had to go and dunk yourself into the river like a fool and I had to fish you out. I was also able to get the water skin you almost lost. ” He held up the skin, tossing it onto the bank.

“I didn’t dunk myself in the river !” Sophie pushed off of Wukong and he let her go, crossing his arms. “If you weren’t spookily hiding in the branches with your glowing eyes I wouldn’t have panicked and lost my grip!”

“I can’t believe you hit me…”

“Of course I would hit you! I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS YOU!” Sophie shouted.

“You should know me enough by now that I’m not like every other gripping demon out there!”

“Wukong how would I know when I’m half drowning in the water and I can’t see you?!” Sophie countered. He rolled his eyes, collecting the cast off water skins she had thrown onto the bank, grumbling about mortals and being blind.

“What were you doing?”

Wukong didn’t reply to her, his tail twitching agitatedly. Sophie looked down at herself. She was drenched from head to bare foot in water. Her skin was already starting to break out in goosebumps as the sun sank behind the mountains, casting the gorge into shadow.

“Why were you hiding in the branches?” Sophie pressed, collecting her shoes and holding them in hand. She would have to be careful walking back not to step on anything. Putting her shoes on now would only get them wet from her pant legs being sodden. Wet shoes were also not fun to walk in and they had a long trek tomorrow. Trip wanted to get to the next monastery and have as he liked to call it “an honest meal” which mostly consisted of mushrooms, noodles and broth. Trip was a vegetarian by nature but on the journey he did at times have to make sacrifices.

“Again I wasn’t hiding. The great Sun Wukong doesn’t hide.” Wukong replied, combing his wet fur back into place. “I was coming to fetch you and bring you back for supper. It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“Did you call out to me?”

“I was making enough noise a deaf and blind beggar could have heard me!” Wukong patted his pant leg where the majority of the water had gotten onto him. It wasn’t as bad as the full drenching Sophie had taken.

Sophie could smell the lie even as Wukong ignored her angry glower.

“Bull-bull s-shit!” She challenged but it came out between chattering teeth. Fuck it got cold fast.

Wukong paused in his own musings, hands pausing in inspecting himself and turned. He peered up into Sophie’s face, so close that he was almost nose to nose. The Monkey King looked at her eyes, down to her lips, then across the rest of her.

“Um… Wukong?”

“You're cold.” Wukong tapped his own lips, and pointed out the raised goose flesh on her arms. “Blue lips and bumps mean cold” His voice was much softer now. “Stupid women.”

He stepped back, hands crossing over his chest again. He looked her up and down then demanded “Take that off.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I’ll turn around, just take off your wet shirt!” Wukong shouted back. “You have those dry … er, shorts right?”

“Yes back in my bag.”

Wukong nodded once.

“Good. Take off your shirt.” He turned around, good to his word.

Sophie did so- shivering as the cold air clung to her skin. The cloth was heavy with water and she sighed. It wouldn’t be dry until well into tomorrow- she would be forced to wear her ‘otherworldly’ clothing. It was fine by her but if they stopped by a village it also meant she would have to wait outside. Sophie had learned the last time that walking into a village with odd clothes could be one of several different reactions, all mostly negative and involving the villagers calling her a demon or witch. Or throwing rocks at her. As she peeled herself free from the sodden clothing the night air kissed her skin and sent her teeth chattering harder. “D-done.”

Wukong hadn’t turned around but he had divested himself of his own robed shirt, holding it out and behind himself. Sophie tried not to stare at his back too long.

“Put it on.” It was kindness Sophie wasn’t expecting. Wukong, the last time he had given her his shirt to wear, had been an order from Tripataka. She had to wash her clothes after a heavy rainstorm had her falling in mud. Of course she had had no spare tops- they all needed to be washed from the travel smell and the dirt. So Trip had ordered Wukong to give up his shirt. It hadn’t been willing kindness but Sophie had still taken it as that.

But this? This was unexpected. Sophie opened her mouth to reply when Wukong continued, “I can’t believe I’m going to have to wash it again of your stink.”

Well so much for kindness. Sophie thought. First the monkey had scared her into the river. Then he had rescued her and blamed her for falling in? All because she couldn’t hear him? She didn’t believe that- not for a second. Great Sage Equal to Heaven Sun Wukong had not been walking loudly. He hadn’t even tried to call out to her to get her attention. What had he been doing when he was on the branch? How long had he been there?

Well, Sophie thought, I should be more aware of my surroundings- or at least not let my mind run away with the rest of my senses.

Though in all fairness if Wukong had wanted to sneak up on her, she would never have known. He was too quiet for his own good and it played into how well he could slip frogs into Pigsys blanket roll.

Sophie shrugged the shirt up and over her head, feeling the residual warmth from Wukong already transferring to her skin.

“At least you won’t get sick and worry the Monk.” Wukong said. Sophie tapped his shoulder and he turned. Without asking, he grabbed her sodden shirt and held it out in front of him.

He may have caused her to fall in. He may have been trying to scare her or something else. But he had pulled her out of the river. He had given her his shirt- free of an order. Sophie was beginning to read the guilt through his actions. Whatever Wukong had meant to do- he hadn’t meant to do that.

“…. Thank you Wukong.”

He grunted, holding Sophie’s shirt in one hand like someone would hold a gross bug.

“What would you do without me? You are completely incapable of keeping yourself safe. Too weak to fight, and too uncoordinated to even balance properly. What were you doing using only one arm for the water? You should have hooked your legs over the trunk instead. ” Wukong walked only a pace ahead of Sophie, slowing whenever she winced over the ground. At least the ground was only slightly rocky here.

“Maybe I wouldn’t fall in rivers because the person that is so worried about my safety didn’t just scare me half to death.” She shot and Wukong merely grinned wider.

“ It seems you forget how to say ‘You are Welcome Wukong’ ! It was just a dip in the water and I was right there to keep you from drowning.”

“Uh huh.”

“ It was needed.” He sniffed the drenched clothing and grimaced, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “You did stink.”

“Oh hahaha let me laugh it up- not like there’s soap and a bathtub waiting at every spot we stop.” Sophie rubbed her arms, pulling her hair back from her face to tuck behind her ears. “You stink too when you come back from slaughtering half a hoard of demons ya know?”

“I take care of myself. Unlike you.”

“I thought you were some river monster coming to drown me and eat my bones you ass.” Sophie tilted her head and squeezed some water off the edges of her hair. She was going to need a brush, the bits of hair already curling and tangling together. “Lurking in the shadows above me is not a way to reassure a girl you aren’t there to devour them.”

“All the more reason,” Wukong crowed, “Not to go without an escort. If you are going to go anywhere, you have to take me with you. You are in a King's care after all. It reflects badly upon my own standing as King and guardian of this pilgrimage if you end up between the teeth of some demon. Mortals like you and the Monk should know this by now.”

“Sandy knew where I was.”

“And look at the good that did you.”

There was no popping Sun Wukongs bubble of pride- he had already wrapped this story up as a great rescue of some kind. He didn’t grin about it, but Sophie could see he was indifferent to the chaos he had caused her. She wished she could throw him sometimes. Maybe he would think twice about scaring her if she could dunk him in a river.

“…stupid monkey.”

Wukong turned at that, grinning now with all teeth. The game was afoot now in full force and he felt it.

“What we’re you saying as I pulled you up? Something like “A friend whos the best monkey in the world?’”

“If he really was the best he wouldn’t have half drowned me.” Sophie pointed out, sniffing. They were nearing the fire, and the smell of Sandy’s stew was enough to make her stomach give an audible gurgle.

“I didn’t.” Wukong corrected, helping her over a bit of prickly thorn bushes without being promoted. Maybe he did feel a smidge guilty then. He usually had to be begged to assist - or ordered by Trip. “ You slipped. It’s not my fault you can’t hear or see, stupid women.”

“Keep telling yourself that Wukong. Maybe you’ll make it true.”

As Sophie entered the camp she was bombarded from all sides by the concern of her fellow pilgrims. Sandy rose from the fire- a bowl of stew already being shoved in her hands. Pigsy threatened and yelled at Wukong enough that both of them started to get into a spat. Tripitaka had to stand, to command them to stop before it escalated from mere name calling to physical fighting. Trip then held out Sophie’s bag and she gratefully took it and dipped behind a bit of greenery several paces beyond to change out of her drenched pants and into the comfy pajama shorts and a comfy hoodie. When she came back Pigsy was still growling out threats while a disinterested Wukong cleaned his nails. He looked up briefly at her then away.

“When we reach the next village we will grab you a spare.” Tripitaka spoke around a bowl of noodles. He had opted just for noodles tonight, leaving the meat to the rest of the group. His smile was kind and apologetic. “Sophie you will probably have to wait outside the village till we can get you a replacement.”

She nodded. She could risk going into the village with her regular attire on but … being chastised and poked at by the villagers was not a pleasant experience. Once was enough for her.

“When you guys go into the village could you ask for some healing balm- or maybe a big hat?” Sophie looked to Sandy. “The sun is really starting to burn my skin and I only have so much left of my other world stuff.” Trying to describe the items in her bag at times left different reactions from the group- or more questions. Sophie didn’t want to answer those questions at the moment, hungry and cold.

Sandy nodded, passing a bowl to Wukong on her right. “I will ask for you, Sophie.”

As the group dug into their suppers and then settled for the night, Sophie was glad the fire was banked high. The chill was being chased from her bones and, even if the ground wasn’t comfortable, she looked on the bright side. She hadn’t been eaten. As Wukong took the first watch and Pigsy already was snoring, Sophie closed her eyes—

And woke to the stars still shining in her face as something bumped beside her head. She startled up, blinking out the sleep that clung.

“Hello-?”

“Shhh.” Wukong was crouched beside her, his tail being the culprit of what woke her up. His face looked tired with sleep, the scowl deeper and more furious. He shoved something into Sophie’s lap. She looked down. They were new clothes- a robbed top and pants.

“If you tell the Monk I stole it, I will give you a thorough washing in the river.” Wukong hissed, pulling at Sophie’s bag and rummaging through the contents. Well there he goes again, just digging through my stuff. It didn’t bother her anymore since Wukong rarely kept any of the items of hers he pocketed. He pulled out the coin string, taking some of the bronze rings. “I’m taking some of these so it looks like I bought them. Got it ?”

“So you are feeling guilty for startling me into the water.” Wukong opened his mouth, to argue, to plead his case that no he was not feeling guilty he was Sun Wukong and he did not feel guilt, when Sophie smiled up at him and laid back down.

“It’s ok. Your secret is safe with me-“ she grogely replied, laying back down and curling over the clothes. Sophie patted the ground beside her. “Your watch is over right?”

“Yes.” His head was cocked to the side, like a dog confused.

“Good. Get some sleep.” Sophie closed her eyes. She didn’t hear him move off but she knew he had settled just a bit away from her.

“And Wukong?”

A grunt from behind her- already settling into his spot, back to her.

“Thanks. I forgive you for almost drowning me.”

“I didn’t drown you.”

“I’ll take that as ‘your welcome’.”

[rose-reveries]

⚠️BEWARE THE EPISODE 4 PJO SPOILERS⚠️

Episode 4: The things I like, the things I don’t, the things I miss but I’m okay with them not being there

The things I liked about the new episode:

I liked the conversation at the beginning in the train. Very reminiscent of the book where we get to learn a little bit more about Annabeth and how she arrived at camp. I found it interesting how here we changed it from Annabeth’s father always resenting her birth to Annabeth’s father considering her “a gift” until her step-mother came along. I don’t mind this change at all and all in all still makes sense as to why Annabeth ran away when she was 7.

“But at least with gods you know the rules” okay Miss Chase your autism is showing (/j)

The flow from seeing the centaurs (which is something I believe only Percy saw in the books) to letting this be how Grover opens up about Pan and why he wants to be a searcher was a nice little combination of scenes to save time. We still understand how Grover feels about humans and their mistreatment of nature but it’s just in a slightly different way than the books and I’m okay with that change.

The BANTER between the trio was SO good this episode. You can really feel the bonds between these characters (especially Percy and Annabeth) forming this episode.

The pacing in this episode finally started to feel a little bit better than the first 3 episodes. I actually do think the change in how they meet Echidna helps with this because it prolongs the hunt whereas in the book the Echidna and Chimera scene IS quite short and fast. Meeting Echidna on the train, having them run and try to heal Percy, Percy gets worse, Percy sacrifices himself to let the other two get away, fight scene, he falls into the river, etc. Just way better pacing than like, for example, episode one where Alecto literally just flies at him and without moving he stabs her and she dies 💀

Okay, my FAVORITE new thing about the episode does have to be making the Arch a temple to Athena. If the gods still rule but have adapted to the west it makes total sense that they still have temples but they’re just modern American landmarks. Super cool and I loved this change.

Also, rather than Annabeth and Grover just heading down in the elevator before learning there’s a monster, I do like Percy stepping in and sacrificing himself to let them get away. It shows his loyalty to his friends, and how he would rather fight a monster than let them die without reason.

Since the Arch is a temple and Athena had to give Echidna permission to enter, and she did so due to Annabeth’s impertinence, this REALLY helps with the shows current message of heroes and monsters and what those terms mean, but also just how the gods are like BAD. I think it’ll help make Luke’s reasoning for turning on the gods make SO much sense for new audience members.

Percy and Annabeth banter?? ADORABLE

TOTALLY CALLED THE WATER REACHING OUT TO REACH PERCY LMAO. I know RR said he had Percy jump into the river because he didn’t realize how far it was from the arch so this is like sort of a retcon but yea, it works. Percy can manipulate water we learned this with how he pushed Nancy into the fountain.

Things I didn’t:

I think Echidna breaking into the train ✨magically✨ was eh. She could have simply just been on the train like how in the book she was just simply in the elevator.

Speaking of Echidna, it would’ve been so cool to see a snake lady :’). They did it with Medusa and Alecto but I guess they spent their whole budget on that because no snake lady to be seen.

I know the Mist would be hiding it from mortals… but even in the book Grover is like wearing pants and a hat. If they spent less cgi on Grover they could’ve animated some other stuff I’m sure.

The choice to keep depicting Kronos as this wraith instead of a voice from a pit is interesting?? We are already not setting up for Kronos reveal (like there was no Kronos exposition in the museum in episode one which I though was weird). Also I’d say that they’re doing this because they want new audience members to believe Hades is the BBG or something, but if they wanted us to think that why not mention the Helm of Darkness? The Helm would definitely help allude to this wraith figure we see I think. Or show us the hellhound. I don’t know. Weird. I think there is a lot of missing information that is IMPORTANT to the story that shouldn’t have been left out.

Things I miss but it’s fine they’re not there

The trio just never lost their stuff, huh? Like…the bus didn’t explode. They didn’t have to return a poodle for money to a train to Denver. I understand this was all probably cut for time and money sake.

Wish we took the time in the arch for Annabeth to talk about wanting to be an architect.

In conclusion, I liked this episode and I am enjoying the series. But this means that the Lightning Thief Musical is still the most book accurate adaptation of Percy Jackson and that makes me lol

[himbeereule]

Орлёнок (Eaglet) Battle System - Dev Diary #4

"Don't worry, the regular dev diary will publish this evening" she said, and vanished for 8 days.

Sorry.

Brain is being very difficult. At least I'm still somehow alive.

But onto actually interesting (I hope) things-

4.1 Initiative - cont'd

Examples for how Initiative works have already been given in the last Dev Diary (under 3.2), but I'd like to make a few additions. What makes Initiative go up or down? is a question as of yet unanswered and also ties into the main theme of this Dev Diary.

The main source of high Initiative are charges, meaning a melee attack on another unit. But that's not guaranteed to work - Terrain plays an important factor here, with difficult terrain such as towns/cities or, worse, a forest significantly reducing the effectiveness of a charge due to stuff being in the way, making it difficult to maintain momentum. Cavalry, which is generally best at charges, suffers the most from these.

Charging uphill is also not the best idea - you can guess why. But at least the opposite is also true: charging downhill is extra effective.

Then, there's charging across a river. Not a very good idea usually, so try to avoid it unless it's a really desperate situation. In real world terms, even shallow water that can be traversed without the need for barges etc. will significantly slow down your troops and, in the worst case, make them arrive on the other side in small groups. The enemy waiting there likes that.

And finally, there's the dynamic factor that is the hostile troops you're charging at. If they moved normally the turn before, it's fine, there's no special modifiers. But if they remained stationary, it's assumed they found some stuff to hide behind, dug some holes, maybe placed some pointy sticks or barbed wire, maybe even just laid down. In short, they'll be prepared. Which will give them a bonus to Initiative when charged. However - you can attack them with artillery beforehand, which will make them suppressed and lower their Initiative accordingly and effectively neutralize the preparation bonus.

4.2 Morale and Commitment

Morale is... exactly what it sounds like. It measures how happy your soldiers are to run around and shoot at their own countrymen.

It's decided by many factors - Divisions have a unified morale value at the beginning of the battle, which is influenced by things decided beforehand - previous victories and losses, relative strength (how strong the Division is compared to your other Divisions, and how strong your army is compared to the enemy army in this particular battle) and things happening in the story. It also changes during the flow of the battle - winning fights against enemy units is good, taking casualties is not so good. Some special weapons like flamethrowers or poison gas are also very much not good for the morale of the receiving side. And even if a unit is just standing in the back lobbing shells all over the place (looking at you, artillerists), its morale will suffer if your other units get slaughtered and it seems like the battle will be lost.

But what does morale actually do? Well, higher morale means better coordination rate. Conversely, a panicked and depressed unit will have a hard time coordinating. But that's just one half of it - to understand the other, we must first look at Commitment.

Commitment simply means how many of your units are actually taking part in fights, instead of just standing around on the field. It's a counter of how many units have fought in melee this turn (ranged attacks do not count; you'll see why in the next paragraph).

Now, if the enemy's overall morale (average value of all units combined, rounded down) hits 0, but commitment is also at 0 - meaning there are no enemy units currently tied up in melee - the enemy force will retreat in an orderly fashion, ending the battle without further casualties. If, however, morale is at 0 and commitment is not, the enemy will have to flee, which, narratively, means unengaged units will rush to save their still-fighting brethren, and as soon as they can run away as fast as they can. This means additional casualties for the fleeing side depending on how high their commitment was.

But the battle may also end when morale is low, though not yet zero - and that is if commitment is greater zero and the relative strength of the opposing force is at least 1.5:1 - in other words, if side A has 50% stronger forces than side B, and side B has both low morale and units tied up in melee, side B will capitulate. This is basically the most valuable outcome to reach, because you will get all the remaining enemies' stuff and a lot of prisoners - in normal conditions, only a small (or, in the case of the enemy fleeing, a medium-sized portion) of additional enemy casualties will become prisoners instead of casualties. This is important because prisoners become recruitable manpower over time.

That's it for today. Sorry again for the long wait.

The next Dev Diary will be the last one, and probably quite short - it deals with the meaning of Victory in battles.

[ahyperactivehero]

I would definitely not turn down a lil DBDA drabble, maybe to do with seances/the Ouija board and the boys being silly and haunting something?

(have you ever played with a ouija board anon? i did as a kid, lol! not saying it was a good idea, but it actually went pretty similar to this little prompt)

XXX

“It’s a harmless little toy, mate,” Charles said, slinging his bag over his shoulders. 

“It is not!” Edwin said, practically stomping his foot against the wooden planks of the old bridge.

“It’s even got a sticker from that toy store down the road,” Charles said, pointing to the label on the box. 

“Spirits!” 

Both Edwin and Charles jumped and stared down at the young girl sitting between them. She looked to be about twelve or thirteen, although it was really anyone’s guess. Her friend sitting across from her, clasping her hands so tightly it looked as if it might be cutting off the blood flow, didn't seem to be much older. 

“She can’t see us, right?” Charles asked. He leaned forward until his face was almost level with hers.

“Charles, her eyes are closed,” Edwin said, rolling his eyes.

“You never know,” Charles said, as if he still didn’t trust him.

“Oh, so you’ll believe that she can see you even with her eyes closed, but not that the Ouiji board they are playing with could be dangerous?” he asked.

Charles sighed and brushed off his knees as he stood to his full height. There was an ever patient look on his face as he gave a placating smile. “I didn’t say that, did I? All I said was that this Ouiji board was a harmless toy.”

Edwin looked at the board. It did seem to be made of a cheap, tacky plastic and cardboard and not the wood and glass he’d come to associate with ‘real’ Ouija boards. But just because this one wasn’t real, didn’t mean that it was a good idea for these girls to keep playing with things like this. 

“A lot of the time it is the intention behind something, not just the materials used,” Edwin said. Did having the correct materials make it much easier? Sure, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still summon a ghost or demon with the wrong ones.

Charles held his hands up, clearly trying not to fight before he could answer, the other girl spoke.

“I don’t think it’s working,” she said, peeking one eye open. “Did you do it right?”

No, she hadn’t, Edwin knew. But that was a good thing.

The first girl huffed as she tucked her black hair behind her ears. It was spiked and short, almost too short to properly tuck back. “Of course I did.”

Her friend sighed as well and let go over her hands to rub up and down her arms. It was a cool night, and far cooler sitting here on the bridge over the river than it was anywhere else. “Then why didn’t he show up?”

“I don’t know!” the spiky haired girl said, throwing her arms wide. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, obviously trying to compose herself. If she had the Sight she would have immediately been confronted with the two ghosts standing over her. 

Instead, she seemed content to try and call for more.

“Here, let’s just do it again,” she said, and held out her hand for her friend’s. Together they placed their hands on the plastic planchette and both began to chant. 

“One, two Freddy’s coming for you. Three, four, better lock your door,” they chanted, the old horror movie song familiar to even Edwin.

“What does Freddy Kruger have to do with a bridge?” Charles asked as he looked around like the clue might be in the dark somewhere. 

“Why are they using a Oujia board to talk to a fictional character, Charles? They are idiots.”

Charles couldn’t contain his burst of laughter at that. 

“It seems a shame to not let them have a little bit of a scare,” Charles said, wagging his eyebrows at Edwin. “After all, they are playing with something dangerous.”

Edwin pursed his lips together and tried to look disapproving. He quickly failed when Charles nodded his head towards the girls and kneeled down next to them. His hand hovered over theirs, the barest hint of a touch. 

Even from where Edwin was standing he could see the girl’s arm hair stand on end as bumps rose on their skin. The night chill had nothing on an unexpected brush with a ghost.

“Do you feel that?” the spiky haired girl asked, awe and fear in her voice. 

Her friend nodded, her pupils nearly black pin pricks against the whites of her eyes. “Uh huh!”

“Come on, Edwin, it’ll be fun,” Charles said. “Like you said, they shouldn’t be playing with this thing anyways.”

Edwin sighed and sat opposite Charles, the board in the middle of the four of them. “Fine. But nothing too… gory,” he warned.

Charles grinned again as they slowly started to move the planchette around the board. It seemed like a bad idea, but Edwin let Charles lead the way through whatever he wanted to spell.

The girls screamed as they fell back away from the board. Still, the boys kept moving.

“It’s real, oh my God it’s real!” 

Their screams were so high pitched they almost burst Edwin’s ear drums. 

It seemed as if they might not even be paying attention to all of Charles's hard work at spelling things, until the second girl started to mutter under her breath. 

“Oh my God, Harper, look!” she said, pointing to the board. Her arm moved through Edwin like nothing, although she shivered at the sudden loss of heat. 

“What’s it saying! What’s it saying!?” Harper asked, moving closer to the board.

“It’s spelling the rest of the song! Oh my God, does it want to kill us?”

Charles grinned as he led the board towards ‘yes.’

Both girls screamed and Harper rounded the other side to grab her friend's hand and practically pull her to her feet. Together Charles and Edwin moved the planchette to ‘good-bye’ before knocking it over.

Their screams pierced the dark again as they sprinted off, leaving the board behind.

“Oh, look at that,” Charles said. “We’ve got another board!”

Edwin smiled fondly and rolled his eyes. “I think that makes thirty-seven now,” he said.

“Brills,” Charles said and shoved it into his bag. “Now, what were we here for?”

Somewhere in the distance faint whisperings carried on the wind. “The actual serial killer ghost lurking in these woods?” Edwin reminded him.

Charles nodded and grabbed Edwin’s hand as they followed after the girls. It was best to make sure they got out of the woods safely, and if they managed to get in a few more scares in the process who could really blame them.

You shouldn’t play with Ouija boards, after all.

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Flowing like a river (part 2)

Shanks x reader. Violence, blood - a lot of blood.

Sequel to Being a native of Foosha Village and falling for Shanks would involve..., even though it can be read as a standalone.

This fic is dedicated to @machinema7k, who first requested a sequel! This is part two of two.

Samuel Axe was a real-life pirate (actually a privateer) active in the 17th century. Chi is the japanese word for blood.

*****

You sigh as you leave the transponder snail on the little table next to you at the bow of the ship, at the end of another tense conversation with Shanks. Your lover has insisted he wants to hear from you every two hours to make sure you are all right, and hearing his voice is a balm for your soul, but you are so tired - tired enough you feel your legs could collapse under you any moment, and your eyes close, and then you could sleep for a full week…

A discreet but deliberate coughing behind you makes you jump as you turn; you really are a bundle of nerves, as you are sure the man now in front of you can tell. Still, Nejima, the helmsman of the pirate crew that is now completely under your control, even if seventeen men short of its original number, doesn't bat an eyelid.

"We are going to reach the island in less than two hours, if the wind remains constant." he reports; you nod in response, the relief filling your heart so intense you almost forget how arduous, and terrifying, the last two days have been - almost. Only an hour, you promise yourself, just an hour more, two at most to decide what to do with your prisoners and report everything that has happened to your captain, and then you will be free to sleep, and cry, and get drunk - not necessarily in that order.

Your prisoners. It seems strange to ever think those words referred to you, but that is what they are, according to the unwritten rules of the sea. It doesn't matter that nothing would have happened had Axe not ordered to kidnap you, or that you have only acted in self-defense, especially during the brief but deadly skirmish of last night; you have captured their ship, subdued the crew, and now it and them are all yours, to do as you please.

That is a responsibility you have never asked for.

Nejima remains behind you, as you scan the horizon under the newly-risen sun from the bow of the ship. You have no idea what he is thinking, whether how he hates you for what you have done to his friends, how afraid he is of you, or something else; and to be honest, you do not much care. At the very least, you are confident he is not planning another rebellion, after the one the end of which has seen the surviving Axe pirates scrubbing the galley's floor to remove their crewmates' blood and innards, and having to store seventeen (seventeen!) bodies in the hold until they can deliver them to the sea, as is customary when a pirate dies, and that is enough for you. Still, you can not trust him, you remind yourself, since he has already deceived you, taking advantage of your instinctive desire to help whoever is hurt and needs it, and that is why, when Nejima finally breaks the silence by asking

"You want to have some food brought to you?"

you shake your head decisively in response; the truth is you are starving, since the bread and cheese you ate yesterday were not enough to fill you up, but the pirates might decide to get rid of you adding a special ingredient to any food you could ask for, and since you would have no way, nor the time, to create an antidote for the poison, you have decided the safest thing to do is to go hungry… and sleepy, since you didn't sleep a wink last night, sure the pirates were just waiting for you to nod off to hit you in the head, throw you overboard and let the sea take care of you, since eating the Devil Fruit made you unable to swim. So you kept vigil, and considering that you had spent the previous night in the company of Axe and his whip, you haven't slept for… well, too long, that's for sure, and you are so tired you could simply close your eyes as you stand, and doze off in a matter of seconds.

But you won't. Shanks wouldn't let hunger and exhaustion make him lower his guard, which means you mustn't either; you wanted to be worthy of him, as your captain and lover both. After all, you are no longer the simple doctor of Foosha Village, but a member of the Red-Haired Pirates, and you have to behave accordingly.

You remain at the bow, alone, until finally the island appears in front of you, and that is why you order Nejima to have the men assemble on the deck, except for the few who need to remain at their stations to maneuver the ship, so that Shanks and the others will be able to keep them under control once the the two crews come into contact. You notice they all give you a wide berth, huddling together to avoid having to come within ten paces from you. You can't blame them: they have seen you kill their friends, brutally and mercilessly, a scene they will probably see in their nightmares for many years to come, and while they must know it is too late to get rid of you, since they will be before Shanks and his men in a matter of minutes, they know you have reason to hate them.

And you do. You really do, even if they were simply following orders and you had not even met most of them before a group of the most reckless attacked, hoping to overpower you with sheer numbers, and you were forced to defend yourself. You hate them for what they forced you to do, and for what they would have done once you were no longer of use to their captain. You hate all of them, and while that is not a pleasant feeling, you welcome it, because you are able to draw strength from it.

Shanks' entire crew (your entire crew; your mates, your friends, the men who over the last year have become your family) is waiting for you, observing Axe's ship, from which you had the Jolly Roger taken off to symbolize your capture of the vessel, at the abandoned pier you have been abducted from… two days ago, you realize, only two days have passed since you last saw your lover, saying goodbye to him with a kiss as he left to visit the man he planned on recruiting and expecting to see him again by nightfall. Those two days were undoubtedly the most painful and terrifying of your life, but you feel as if you had been away for weeks…

And then there is him; you would recognize him anywhere, even if the ship were not close enough by now to allow you to see him clearly, even if he were not standing alone at the head of his crew, as fitting for a captain, even if you could not see his red hair (as red as the sun at sunset; as red as blood) gently tossed by the wind, and that you have stroked and played with so many times.

It's him; your captain, your lover, your Shanks, whose very presence you feel in your heart, as if you were the two opposite poles of a magnet attracting each other. Once, as you lain in bed together in his cabin, your cheek on his shoulder and your lover's hand resting on your chest to feel your heartbeat, Shanks said you would always find each other, whatever distance or adversity had separated you, because each of you were a part of the other's soul, the two halves of a single whole, and no adverse fate would ever keep you apart. You joked that it was the rhum he had imbibed talking, or the fact that you had just made him climax so hard he had forgotten his own name - twice, but the truth is your heart was full of joy, and gratitude, and hope, because you knew he was speaking from his, and he really would move heaven and earth to be with you and keep you safe.

This is what you thought would happen, sooner or later, with Shanks being one of the most powerful pirates in the world and you still a neophyte; that he would have to defend you - which didn't mean you were content with being a burden to him and your crewmates, or didn't want to learn to defend yourself to fight alongside the others. Still, you would have never imagined you would be the one returning to him, having had to kill so many men to set yourself free, with Shanks waiting for you like the wife of a soldier back from the front; he probably didn't expect it either, but when you told him that you didn't need to be rescued and you would have your kidnappers bring you back to the island, he didn't protest, letting you decide what to do.

You loved him for it; and now you can't wait to be once more where you belong: by his side.

Your eyes meet while the ship reaches the pier, gently moving to approach the gangway protruding from the beach, and whatever pain and terror you may have suffered in the last two days, it is probably nothing compared to what your lover has gone through since he was informed of your disappearance, and that didn't diminish after you contacted him and assurred him you were all right. The joy and bittersweet relief in his warm eyes is so intense, Shanks seems for a moment about to cry; but as an experienced captain and pirate, he knows you are not safe yet - rather, this is in some respects the most dangerous moment of all, when the joy for your return may lead your crewmates to lower their guard, or Axe's pirates to attempt to escape and take you with them.

Nejima is once more behind you. "Lower the gangplank." you tell him, feeling extraordinarily foolish as you do, since the only orders you have ever given were of a medical nature and even those are routinely disregarded. Nonetheless, you are obeyed, and Shanks sends half his crew on the ship, to keep Axe's pirates at bay.

Most of your friends smile, wink, or pat you on the shoulder while they pass you by, and you greet them in kind, deeply happy to see them again.

"I had forgotten how insufferable he was when you were not around." Benn Beckman, Shanks' faithful and ever present first mate, mutters in your ear, making you laugh. You feel already much better, the simple presence of your crew around you comforting and reassuring: you are home once again, because they and him especially are your home, wherever in the vast sea your travels would bring you. Since you have joined the Red-Haired Pirates, you have forgotten what feeling lonely feels like, and you'll never cease being grateful for that.

"Believe me, I didn't leave by my own volition." you answer, turning serious.

"I know it, (name). Just…"

"Yeah."

Benn quickly takes command, sending the others to confiscate all weapons on board. You turn to look at Shanks, still waiting on the pier; he is not smiling, but you can see love and the almost uncontrollable desire to embrace you shining in his warm brown eyes - a desire you can easily recognize, because it's the same filling your heart.

Come here, he invites you with a brief gesture of his hand, and you are all too happy to obey. You turn to Nejima. "Come with me." you order, and the helmsman obediently follows you down the gangplank until you and your lover are finally, finally face to face, together once more, and for a moment nothing is wrong in the world.

"Captain." you respectfully greet him, and your lover nods.

"Doctor. Are you all right?"

"I have been better." you admit; you and Shanks have promised to never lie to each other, not even to spare each other pain and worry, and the signs of your abuse are evident on your face and body "But I'll live."

"Good. You are the first officer?" Shanks, whose eyes have moved on the man on your left, asks then, since you forgot to tell him the first officer was one of the men who attacked you last night.

"I am the helmsman, captain. The others have asked me to speak for them."

"I see. You know your situation is dire; you have kidnapped our doctor and abused her, and this is not a crime I can easily forgive."

Silence is the only answer he receives. Shanks sighs as he stares at him, his head tilted to one side, as he considers the man in front of him, his gaze not cruel but piercing.

"Your name?"

"Nejima, captain."

"What do you think your captain would do in my place, Nejima?"

The helmsman needs only a second to find an answer. "He would kill you all." he says evenly "The captain was not an easy man to serve under, but he considered each of his men as his brothers; the kidnapping of one of them was the sort of crime he would not forget."

"Hmmm..."

Shanks sighs; he is clearly torn, aware of the need to protect his men, and you, and loathe to commit unnecessary bloodshed. You have no idea what he will decide to do, but whatever it will be, you will support him, as his subordinate and lover, like you know he would support you.

"All right." he says in the end "Give me a minute."

He turns to you, gently inviting you to step away to talk in private.

"I missed you." he murmurs; surrounded as you both are by your crewmates and, more importantly, by Axe's pirates, he doesn't kiss or hug you, electing to simply rest his hand on your shoulder "I was afraid... But I shouldn't have, clearly. I know how strong you are."

The smile that blossoms on your lips is probably the bitterest of your life. "Had I not eaten the Fruit, by this time I would be fish food." you softly point out, before grimacing "I'm sorry I made you worry..."

"(name), we will have time to talk about everything later. You need to rest, now."

"I really do. But can you promise me you will wait until then before deciding what to do with them?"

Shanks nods, compassion clear on his face. "I promise. You want me to send someone to accompany you?"

You shake your head, since the Red Force is docked maybe a hundred paces behind you, and you are pretty sure you can walk to it without keeling over.

"I have missed you as well." you murmur; while you are not lying at all, those simple words are so little, a drop of water in the sea, compared to what you would like to say and do. You do need to rest, to sleep and to eat and to clean yourself, but you feel, no, you know that a single hug and kiss from Shanks would be enough to make all the pain and exhaustion disappear... "I... I was so afraid I would never see you again. There is nothing I wouldn't have done to return to you, no sin I wouldn't have committed, no carnage I wouldn't have carried out, but I was so afraid... I was so alone, and I kept telling myself this was not the end, not after we had waited so long to be together, but... I was hurting so much, Shanks..."

"Gods, (name)..."

Your lover's hand takes yours, delicately, to bring it to his lips, and you don't care if Axe's pirates are looking at you, you wouldn't care even if the whole world were, billions of strangers witnessing that intimate moment; he smiles at you, real and so close, and he feels like the sun after a century-long night.

"I'll be with you soon, I promise; and I won't take any decision without consulting you, since you are the offended party." he says "But please, now go rest; as a doctor, you must realize you need it."

You do, and so you let yourself enjoy the feeling of his warm hand holding yours for a moment more before taking a step back, and turn to set off towards the ship, still hurting but relieved to leave that nightmare behind you, if only temporarily.

The ship's empty corridors resonate with the muffled noise of your steps as you head to the infirmary (your little fief in Shank's kingdom, your lover likes to call it) without you fully realizing, almost as if obeying to muscle memory. Everything is like you left it: the two beds separated by screens, so as to ensure a little privacy to your patients; the shelves on the wall, with medicines and tools neatly arranged; a small chest with your personal belongings in a corner, a new dress you had bought the day before your kidnapping and that you planned to wear the next time you and your lover had some time for yourselves folded on the lid.

Being the only woman in the crew, and at the same time unwilling to give the impression you were receiving a special treatment from the captain because of that (or, worse, because you were sleeping with him) you asked his permission to sleep in the infirmary, which therefore also doubles as your personal cabin: this way you can keep watch on any patient who needs to be assisted during the night, and at the same time spare yourself and your crewmates the embarrassment to divide their space with someone who has a different anatomy. Until now, the arrangement has worked perfectly... and the others have been kind enough to never mention that the whole matter is a moot point, since you spend most of your nights in Shanks' bed in any case.

In the last year, that tiny room, and the ship in its entirety, have become as familiar as your home and practice in Foosha once were, so much that you could move around with your eyes closed and easily find your way; you feel at home here, surrounded by things you know and people who care for you, and you have been away for just two days, but nevertheless you feel a weird sense of... detachment, as if you had returned to your childhood home after decades of absence, or this were a place you had just briefly visited without lingering. It's still unreal; you are home, you know it, but somehow your heart hasn't fully grasped it... because you can't fully accept you have come back, or maybe because you had been so sure you never would.

Worse, you are still afraid, well aware that your lover and his men are more than capable of dealing with your kidnappers, and that in any case you have already demonstrated you can take care of yourself, but still frightened, irrationally sure an enemy could come anytime, from anywhere, as soon as you lower your guard. After all, Nejima only had to learn you were a doctor, wait for you to be alone, and tell you there was a patient who needed your help; clearly you still had much to learn about perceiving threats and dangers, which is an important skill for a pirate. What if it happens again? What if next time your captors are able to get the best of you, and use you to hurt your friends, and Shanks? What if he needs to come save you, and to defend you at the cost of his life...?

It won't happen. At least, it hasn't happened this time. Calm yourself, (name), you repeat yourself, with a voice that sounds surprisingly like that of your mother, as you finally begin getting comfortable in your room, you are at home. You are safe. Maybe you don't feel like it, but you are, and that is what really matters.

You remove your shoes, for a moment torn between the desire to get rid of your torn, dirty clothes, and the exhaustion that makes washing yourself in the basin of clean water next to the bed, taking clothes out of your chest and putting them on, an insurmountable task. Gods, you must have never smelt so bad in your life...

In the end, you simply wash the filth and sweat (but not blood; there is not a single drop of blood marrying your skin and clothes, nor yours nor of your victims) from your face and hands, pass a comb in your hair to try and give them some semblance of order, and check your shoulder wound, happy to see it free from infection. Then, you take a blanket from the chest; it is perhaps too much for the day, warm with the promise of an oncoming summer, but you are cold, so cold you are even shaking, and suddenly you are thinking back to when you were still a young girl, and your favourite quilt was the only thing that could protect you from the monsters hiding in the dark corners of your room...

The windows are closed, as well as the door. You drape the blanket over yourself as you lie in a foetal position on the bed on the right, the one you usually occupy unless you have two patients to take care of - or are happily sleeping in the embrace of your lover. You sigh, close your eyes, and do what you had ordered yourself to never do as long as you remained on Axe's ship, and that you have always tried to also hide from Shanks, in the rare occasions you felt the need to, so as not to worry him.

You cry. Out of relief, pain, regret, and to simply release all the stress and fear you accumulated in the last two days and that, now that you give yourself permission to stop being strong and simply feel, pour out of you like the tide released from a dam. It starts with a shy, almost inaudible whimpering, a few tears you quickly dry with the hem of your blanket, before realizing that no one can hear you, since you are alone on the ship, and you better get this out of you before Shanks sees and feels even more unnecessarily guilty than he already does. And so you cry, sobbing and wailing and shedding bitter tears that never stop coming, no matter how already soaked your pillow is; you cry until you can't cry anymore, because you are still scared, and hurt, and because you did it in self-defense, and Axe and his men had it coming, since they had kidnapped and were going to hurt you, they weren't even your first victims since you had taken to the sea, but... but...

You don't remember your tears stopping; you don't remember falling asleep either. Still, you do both, and in the end, when Shanks joins you in the infirmary, he finds you dead to the world, your chest still heaving with sobs, curled up with a dagger you retrieved from inside your chest hidden under your pillow.

*****

The ordeal you have gone through is the sort you expected to have nightmares about for months (at least, a still unexperienced pirate like you would; a veteran like Shanks would probably leave it behind him in a matter of days, but for you, alas, things are different), screaming as you wake up with the image of Axe brandishing his whip, or of the blood-covered bodies of his men lying at your feet, still vivid in front of you.

Instead, at least for today, your awakening is tranquil, the voices of your crewmates once again populating the ship reaching you through the thin walls of the room; you mumble to yourself as you turn to one side, vaguely trying to perceive what time it is, and whether you are waking up from a short nap or a night of uninterrupted sleep, when suddenly you realize you are not alone in the infirmary.

"So, apparently the best way to make a patient sleep and soothe his pain before surgery is to administer laudanum." Shanks considers, one of your medicine books in his hand as he deftly uses his thumb to turn the page "I've only seen use rhum. A poor devil on my old captain's ship had to have his left leg amputated, he drank every drop the cook had in the galley..."

"We used neither for you." you consider, thinking back at the terrible day Shanks lost his arm to defend Luffy from the Sea King; by the time you reached him, there was no longer need for pain medication, only to clean the wound and hope it hadn't gotten infected already. That was the day the two of you officially began your relationship, but you still can't think back to it with pleasure, because of the loss and the pain your lover had to bear.

"We didn't. Just my luck, I could have drunk as much as I wanted without anyone telling me off..."

You could point out that Shanks has always drunk as much as he wanted, without anyone ever trying to stop him, since he's an adult and his men enjoy rhum and beer as much as he does, but you don't, content with observing the man sitting at your bedside, an ankle resting on his opposite knee in a position only he could find comfortable, his warm brown eyes full of love.

"How long have you been here?" you ask in the end, sitting on the bed and pushing your dagger away; Shanks' presence is enough to make you feel safe.

"Not long. Feeling better?"

You do, surprisingly, and you happily accept the plate of food Shanks has left on the bedside table. He smiles as he sees you eat voraciously, lightly caressing your leg after lifting your ankle on his knee, and for a minute everything you need to do and talk about is forgotten, and nothing in the world matters except for the two of you being together.

For a minute.

"We need to decide what to do with Axe's pirates." you point out in the end, aware there's no point ignoring the most important topic you and your lover need to discuss. He nods, turning serious.

"Killing them all would be a show of strenght and ensure other pirates know they can't attack us without suffering the consequences. It would protect us, and you especially."

"I know."

"But you don't want them to die."

"I don't." you admit, and a sad smile appears on your lips "I know, not very pirate-like."

Your lover gently points out he would never scold you for the desire to be merciful, which is one of the many things he loves about you; on the other hand, pirates have their own laws, no one would ever blame you for demanding justice, and Nejima himself told you Axe would show no mercy, if the roles were reversed.

"The one I should want revenge against is Axe imself." you tell him as you eat voraciously; you have been taught it is bad manners to stuff your face, to carry out a conversation while you do it even more, but given the circumstances you think you can dispense with formalities "And I killed him already. His men were only obeying orders."

"His men were also very faithful to their captain, and may desire to avenge him, no matter how... how terrified they are of you."

He is clearly reluctant to utter those last few words, that hurt nonetheless; many pirates would be proud to know they have striken such terror in their victims they might decide to forgo honor and sense of duty, but you aren't - not yet, at least. Shanks looks at you, sighs, and as soon as you have put the now empty plate away, he takes your hand in his.

"I know it's not an easy decision to make, even for someone who is not a doctor, or who has lived as a pirate longer than you have." he says gently, and having someone perceive your thoughts and emotions with such clarity, as easily as with the book he was reading a moment ago, would be terrifying, almost a defilement, were the man doing it not the one you have given your heart to, and who has given you his "I don' like it either."

"But you have done it already, with other pirate crews you have fought."

"I have. I had to."

You sigh. "Can't we... feel free to laugh if you want... surrender them to the Marines?" you ask after a pause "Axe was a pretty notorious pirate..."

"But most of his men aren't; there are maybe four men with a bounty on their head in the entire crew, including the navigator. Think about it, (name); if the Marines were to arrest every single man in every crew they capture, their prisons would be full. Most of them would go free in a day or so."

Part of you wants to point out that if the rest of Axe's men are so harmless, there is no real danger in leaving them free, but your lover is right. Not only is the idea of consigning your fellow pirates to the World Government risible, but making sure they cannot hurt you and your crew anymore is only half the goal. Red-Haired Shanks is a feared pirate, and he needs to remain so; sometimes, even a merciful man like him, known for avoiding unnecessary bloodshed and not harming civilians, needs to be cruel... and so does whoever follows him.

"All right. Let's do it." you decide in the end "They have to pay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. It is the right thing to do, even if I don't like it."

"I agree."

Your lover stands with a sigh; he bends to kiss you on the forehead. "I'll give the order; you can rest for a little more if you want."

"I think I can manage; what I need now is things to return to normal, and I do want to get back to work." you answer as you stand, but your determination lasts only a moment "... Shanks?"

"Yes?"

"Are... are the others afraid of me? Now that I can do... that."

"Oh, (name)..."

He smiles, his warm hand resting on your cheek. "No one is afraid of you; no one who actually knows you ever could be." he assures you; his voice is soothing, as if he were trying to calm a skittish colt "Rather, they were afraid something terrible had happened to you, and were happy to see you safe and sound."

You tell him you are also happy to be among your friends once again, but the fact remains that you are now the only member of his crew who ate a Devil Fruit, and who now possesses powers that could be used to hurt whoever is close to you.

"And you plan on doing that?"

"Obviously not!" you exclaim, frustrated; why is he not taking it seriously? "I never would. But now I... I am dangerous, even more than many other Devil Fruit users, and I don't want my friends to fear me..."

"Anyone on this ship is dangerous. Otherwise we wouldn't have survived until now on the Grand Line. Don't take it the wrong way, but if I were to be afraid of someone here on the ship, you would be one of my last choices."

You are not really sure how to interpret those words, whether to feel relieved or insulted; but you know Shanks is trying to comfort you, and you trust he wouldn't lie to you to do it. Still...

"And you're not afraid either?" you ask again; you hate how needy, how fragile, your voice sounds, and you know that your lover's feelings for you are deep and strong enough to withstand any difficulty and problem, but this is still all so new for you, and you can't help needing to be comforted.

"Why should I?" Shanks asks back, sincerely surprised by your question; then he smiles, lifting your hand with his to kiss the back of it. "I am used to danger, as well. Also, I know what sort of person you are, and if we ever were to fight for some reason, I trust we would discuss about it like reasonable adults, and you wouldn't make me bleed out like a pig in a slaughterhouse to punish me."

"Gods, no!"

"I was kidding, (name). Believe me, you have nothing to fear. I know what we share; and nothing in the world will ever make me fear you, whatever power of ability you develop."

Finally, you smile - truly, this time, completely unaware of how breathtaking you are in his eyes when you do it, your heart full of gratitude and relief, feeling as if you were falling in love with him again after a whole year... and eleven.

"Feeling better?"

"Very. May I have a kiss now, captain?"

"If you really insist, doctor..."

Shanks generously fulfills your request, and smiles when you rest your forehead on his shoulder, quietly enjoying his presence in the chaste intimacy of your room, and at the same time aware you have still work to do, and it won't be pleasant.

"We need to do it soon, right?" you sigh without opening your eyes, as if trying to keep hold of a dream when the light of sunrise is creeping in "This is not the sort of thing you can put off until tomorrow."

"I'm afraid so."

"Just a minute more?"

Shanks' arm circles your waist. "Just a minute more." he agrees, and his red hair brush against your cheeks as he rests his chin on your head.

*****

The sentence is carried out at midday, on the beach whose sand is soon turned red by the blood flowing like a river. Even though they have been ordered to hand over their weapons, some of Axe's pirates try to escape, either slipping away behind the backs of their crewmates or rebelling as they are forced to their knees; they are quickly brought back and put to the front of the line. A few are openly terrified, stumbling as they walk, crying softly or praying under their breath; many keep their head high, defiant and proud until the last moment. None asks for mercy as Shanks' closest companions move among them and use a dagger to cut their throats.

Shanks observes the scene surrounded by his men, his expression sombre but impassive, while you have asked to be among the executioners; you are deliberately avoiding using your powers (also, you are not yet sure you would be able to in a non-threatening situation) and the shirt you have put on to replace the one Axe's whip has reduced to shreds is already stained with splashes of red drops. As you deal the death blow to your third victim, looking at his throat from the side, a few of those fall on your cheek; you clean yourself with your fingers, and then absentmindedly lick them.

Nejima is the first to go; he looks in front of him, aware of and ignoring all the eyes on him, including yours, while he obediently tilts his head back to allow Benn to open his jugular vein with a knife and quicken the bleed-out. When Shanks told him they would be put to death, the man did not argue, having probably realized begging and promising would not save their lives, and only asked your captain to set their ship on fire with the bodies of all the crew inside, as is customary for pirate group funerals.

You don't feel pity for him, not even a little, even though you wish you didn't have his blood (the blood of all of them, sixty-eight men dead because of you, directly or otherwise) on your hands; still, you can't help admiring the calmness and self-composure the navigator is displaying as he faces his end. Who knows if you would be able to be equally brave in his place, you wonder as you clean your dagger from the blood, having been so focused on the men you were killing you didn't think of counting them; somehow you doubt it, unless Shanks were next to you or you had lost him already. In that case, death would be a sweet relief, even if you don't know what awaits you all on the other side...

The atmosphere is tense but solemn, Shanks' pirates keeping an hand on the butt of a gun or the handle of a sword in case some of their victims attempt a last, desperate dash for liberty, but there is no mocking the victims, no jeering, no desecrating the corpses. They are not that sort of men, and your captain wouldn't allow it either. In the end, when dozens of men (some with hair turned grey by age, a few barely past boyhood) lie on the sand in front of you, Shanks orders them to be carried to their ship, its hold emptied of all treasures and riches that are now part of your crew's loot. The vessel is then pushed offshore, and its sails and hull set fire to with blazing arrows.

The sun has just begun its slow descent towards the horizon as you observe the small bonfire silhouetted against the sky. "You can smell the flesh burning from here." you whisper, standing close enough to Shanks your hand brushes against his; your lover frowns for a moment, but he keeps silent, and his fingers find yours to interwine with.

"Have you convinced him?" you ask him a while later, as you walk along the beach, having left everything and everyone behind you, at least for a few minutes "The man you wanted to recruit. Is he joining us?"

Your lover blinks, as if momentarily unsure of what you are talking about. "Oh! No, unfortunately no. He is raising a family now, he says his pirate days are definitely over."

"What a pity..."

Shanks sighs; he is still holding your hand, clearly reluctanto to let it go. "If it weren't for that, nothing would have happened to you." he reasons, his voice raising so little above a whisper the noise of the backwash almost covers it "I would have been there to protect you."

"It is not your fault; I was asked to assist a man who had gotten hurt, I wouldn't have let you forbid me from going."

"No, but I would have stopped you from going alone; and then you wouldn't have been kidnapped."

"True. But then again, I should have realized it could be a trap; I have myself to blame, and myself alone." you gently point out "Thank the Gods I'm all right, and from now on I'll be more careful, I promise."

Another sigh; clearly your lover is not convinced, or at least he cannot leave the whole matter (everything you went through, the fear you both felt you wouldn't survive) behind him anymore than you do. In the end he stops, putting an end to the lines of footprints following you.

"I could have lost you." he murmurs, his hand already caressing your cheek "I... I can barely stand thinking about it. What would I have done without you?"

"Shanks..."

"I love you so much. I... I can't even explain it. I have known it since before we said goodbye in Foosha, and in ten years we have spent apart what I felt never wavered, but now... now that I can see you every day, and sleep holding you close and hold your hand and share my food with you and kiss you every time I want, it is as if I... I had developed an addiction. I can't live without you. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you; you know I would give my life for..."

"Ssh..."

You gently press a finger to his lips, hating to see the man you love blaming himself. You know he can't help it: he loves you, and as your captain, you are under his protection. On the other hand, you are an adult woman who was aware of the risks when she decided to join his crew, and you need to learn to take care of yourself, as you effectively did. And should it happen again (and it will, no doubt, since there are many less dangerous lines of work than piracy)... you'll worry about it when the time comes.

"I am fine, and I am here with you." you remind him as your arms circle his shoulders, pressing your bodies together "And I love you too so, so much. My beloved captain... I would have killed all of them if it meant returning to you."

"I'm sorry you had to do this."

"Stop blaming yourself for things beyond your control; I did what I had to in order to survive, and I'll never regret it."

He smiles; and then he kisses you. "So you ate the Fruit." he points out. Shanks was the first person you talked to after finding the fruit, and he had advised you to think carefully about what to do with it, hether to sell or use it, since once you had taken a single bite from it, the effects (both the loss of the ability to swim, and whatever power it would grant you) would be irreversible. You did carefully reflect on it... and on the night before your kidnapping, you did eat it. "Was it bad? They say they taste bad, Luffy's did."

"It tasted horrible; like burnt gum. But since it gave me the power to subdue Axe's pirates and come back to you, it was a small price to pay. And from now on, I'll fight with you all: I doubt I'll ever be a great swordsman or combatant, no matter how much I train, but with these powers I won't have to remain back at the ship or hide in the galley every time you and the others fight. I can stand with the others, help, instead of being a burden and having to be protected."

"You're our doctor; your role is too important for you to put your life in danger."

"I know. But I want to do more than suture wounds or brace broken bones. I am one of you, Shanks; I want to pull my own weight, in the infirmary and outside. And who knows." you add with a new smile "Maybe one day I will save your life, like you saved mine twice already."

Your lover smiles, and says that as long as you watch out for yourself first, he has nothing to object to. He holds you against him, close enough to make you feel the beat of his heart, close enough to kiss you, which he does, again and again, until you can no longer remember where he ends and you begin. "Please." he whispers "Never leave my sight again."

"I won't."

[hyacinth-sims]

Il mio raggio di sole

Summary: A Mercutio Monty character study. Often seen as the jokester who is second in line to the Monty throne, many don’t know what lurks beneath the surface.

Warning: Vague descriptions of death, SAAAAAD :(

Pairings: None, Even more vaguely implied past Tybalt Capp/Mercutio Monty, Past Consort Capp/Patrizio Monty

Word Count: 1.8k

Author’s Note: I really didn’t know if this one would be as sad as Tybalt’s but I think it is, oops! I’m also amazed at the fact that Mercutio’s character study and Tybalt’s are almost the exact same length, maybe give or take 5-10 words. While I feel like I’ve always “gotten” Tybalt, Mercutio was a bit more of a challenge but I feel like I really learned a lot about what I think of him through writing this 😁 Also if you have any one shot ideas (preferably VV/Tycutio) for me, feel free to send them! I’ve had so much fun with my current iterations of Tybalt and Mercutio (does that make me a sadist?) and I’m excited to see how they’ll interact with each other. 

There were a few important facts about Mercutio Monty. He spoke English and Italian fluently but mostly kept the Italian within the family. He wanted to master the electric guitar before the age of 25 and the acoustic guitar before 28. His favorite food was calamari with a spritz of lemon juice. All of the romantic poetry he’d written in his literature classes wasn’t actually about anyone but rather some cool bugs he’d seen outside of his house. He liked tall men and women of any height and liked it if both looked as if they could kick his ass. He’d only let his hair be as short as just beneath the chin and as long as his collarbone. And most importantly, he never wanted to be the Monty heir. 

He was fine with letting that responsibility fall onto his younger brother, Romeo, who seemed rather excited to one day lead the family. Mercutio, on the other hand, couldn’t imagine being tied to Veronaville for the rest of his life. He wanted to see what else was out there for him, past the rolling hills, dividing rivers, and the feud that hung over his hometown like a dark cloud. 

It would be impossible to talk about himself and his life without mentioning ‘the feud,’ as it was aptly yet uncreatively called. It started long before he was born, and much as he wanted to believe otherwise—it would likely continue on past his death. Mercutio never wanted any part in it, but it seems as though his pure existence as a member of the Monty family was enough to be involved. Of course, he would defend his family when insulted, but the entire thing was just stupid. 

It initially started generations ago over a geographical dispute; both families wanted to claim the lands by the river as their own. Clearly, it was never resolved because it only gave way to more violence and more death. The current iteration of the feud began with his Nonno and Consort Capp on the other side of town. What was interesting, though, was the fact Consort was not born a Capp. They were matriarchal on their side of town, and the feud started before Consort even married into the family. Supposedly, it was due to their shared business going under, but plot twist—Nonno was actually dating Contessa Capp, and Consort had stolen her from right under his nose. That’s not all, though, double plot twist! Consort and Nonno had actually been a thing before the entire thing with Contessa happened. Nobody else knew about this except for Mercutio and the eldest generation, of course. He really had no idea who he’d tell or if it was worth talking about at all. 

Even after this, though, there were ebbs and flows of the feud. The most peaceful the town had been in a long while had been during his childhood. There were no fights in the streets, no murmured threats, and even some positive interactions were had between the Montys and Capps. His parents often encouraged the latter, allowing their children to have playdates with the Capp children on occasion and rebuking Nonno and Nonna’s disapproval of it. His father had even been childhood friends with Cordelia Capp, the heiress before her untimely death. 

He recalled times on the playground as children, hitting each other with foam swords and playing pretend—as if they were the Capp and Monty heiress and heir, respectively, in 1600s Veronaville. 

Things had seemed to be on an upward path throughout his early years, with his father on the Monty side and Cordelia on the Capp side. Neither of them was interested in continuing the feud, and there were even talks of peace in the future. It all seemed too good to be true, and it turned out to be just that. There was a fire in their home, and the kids had managed to escape without any scratches somehow—but Cordelia and Caliban had not been so lucky. 

Mercutio was 12 years old when this happened, and he wanted to attend the funeral. He knew Cordelia and Caliban; they had never been anything but nice to him. He wanted to show his support and make sure that the Capp siblings were okay. His parents were both wrecks; leaving the house seemed nearly impossible for them. His Nonno yelled at him for even thinking of such a thing.

He wasn’t able to go to the funeral. 

There were whispers on the other side of town that the fire was deliberately caused by a member of the Monty family. Mercutio never wanted to imagine that someone he was related to was capable of something like that. Whether or not they were true, they had brought back the feud in full force. Friends he thought he’d made had become strangers again, and the town had become more divided than ever. 

It caused a particularly bad falling out, one that had yet to be topped. Childhood crushes should never be affected by adult problems, but the feud seemed to truly want to take over every aspect of his life. 

His parents were never quite the same after the fire. His mother was becoming heavily pregnant, but she was also growing sicker. She was bedridden most days and often in too much pain to even speak to Mercutio. There was a feeling of impending doom that hung over their home; they all knew that something bad was going to come eventually.

Mercutio found her. She was still in bed, but she no longer looked in pain. For the first time in months, she looked at peace, but he still had tried his hardest to wake her up. 

Olivia Monty had passed away during the night. The doctors said it was due to something called eclampsia, something she had never discussed with her children before. Everyone was too distraught to plan a proper funeral for her, especially his father. Mercutio did not know the man his father had become during his last 6 months of life. He was withdrawn, solemn, as if he had lost his will to live the day his wife had died.

Claudio Monty passed away exactly half a year after his wife. They called it broken heart syndrome—it seems even his body didn’t have much of a reason to go on either. Mercutio was lucky to have not been the one to find him, but he’ll never forget the wails of his grandmother as she begged for him to come back. 

The funeral was one for both his mother and father. There was no burial or casket, and his father had wanted to be cremated alongside his mother. He made that very clear before his death. It was a quiet affair inside his grandparent's home, and he’d chosen to block out most of his memories of it except for one. 

His nonno had pulled him aside as his brother and sister cried and cried. He’d told him that while he was taking them in now, he and Nonna would not be there forever. As the oldest, it was now Mercutio’s responsibility to look out for his younger siblings. He needed to guide them, to protect them, to lead them through the dark and uncertainty of what life would bring now.  

So Mercutio stood by them as they cried, his face unwavering as he tried to be the image of strength and resilience. Ever since that day, he had cried only maybe twice more in his life. His grandparents never seemed to be too concerned with his well-being, taking his positive attitude at face value. It was as if they had forgotten that Mercutio was the one to find his mother dead, not Romeo or Viola. 

Nonna would call him il mio raggio di sole, her ray of sunshine. She said their home wouldn’t be as bright without him, as he brought the light into what became a deeply dark period of time for them. It was at that very moment that Mercutio knew what he was born for. Romeo was born to be the heir, to become the leader of their family and take up that responsibility. Viola was born to be doted on, the youngest girl with two older brothers with a coy smile and a face identical to their mother’s.

Mercutio was born to keep everyone happy. He was born to pretend that he was fine, that if he could be nothing but jokes and laughter after such a tragedy—maybe the rest of the family could heal as well. But as with many things in Veronaville, it was all a facade.

More often than not, Mercutio couldn’t get the image of his deceased mother out of his head. He wanted to yell at the urns of his mother and father, asking just why they couldn’t hold on for their children. Why his mother couldn’t take better care of herself during her pregnancy, why his father couldn’t have found a will to live through his struggling kids, just why, why, why. 

He never spoke about his parents, not to anybody. He knew he’d fall apart if their names left his lips. He never wanted to be that vulnerable, he never wanted to cry, and he never wanted to show that side of him to anyone. 

Mercutio wrote love poems about bugs. He wrote a sonnet about an orchid mantis on the blooming flowers in their garden. A haiku about a ladybug that had made its way onto the dashboard of his car. A ballad about a butterfly that had fluttered around his head for what felt like a lifetime. It was easier to lie, to lie and say he was letting his guard down through the writing he submitted to his literature teacher. 

He kept everything that was real locked away inside a leather-bound journal, which was gifted to him by his Nonna after his report card showed an A- in Literature. He wrote about death, despair, hopelessness, depression, about how he really felt. He wrote about love, about what it would mean to let someone fully in, about freedom, about escaping this hell hole that threatened to destroy him before he could graduate. The leather-bound journal held the key to his very soul, and he would never let anyone see the inside of it. 

Not now, anyway. 

[thatoneweirdowhoknowstoomuch]

Where's Waldo Headcanons pt 3

Wenda, Wenda, and Wilma

(don't really a ton of those to be frank, so this should be short)

•》Wenda (2019)《•

Full name: Wenda Olson

* Been in the Wanders' Society as long as she could remember, is the one who both introduced Pre-transition! Odlaw and Wally to it.

* Slight trust issues after Pre transition! Odlaw left her mid mission to join the Anti Wanderers Society, leaving her in the middle of an island with no way to head home, so was intially a bit taken a back prior to episode 1 that Wally wanted to join; at first

* Similar to Waldo, her parents weren't around much, which was something they quickly bonded over. However unlike Wally, she has no recollection of what her parents look like, not even a name-

-Speculated by few to be related to a few Wizards, but no one would or could confirm if said speculations were true. As far as she knew Whitebeard (2019) was the closest to a parental figure she had.

* Saw Wally as almost a brother, if not a really best friend

* When the both graduated Wanderers' Society, she stayed behind to become another Wizard and teacher of the Wanders' Society; the last thing they said to each other was a promise to keep in touch; something they both held up less and less as they got older.

* Joke headcanon here that ties to the next character; but if 2019 Wenda and 1991 Wenda/Wilma met at the same age, Olson would be target 101 of the twins chaos.

•》Wenda (1991)《•

* Full Name: Wenda Charlotte Wilder

* The older identical twin of Wilma, but was more of a troublemaker of the two. Matter of she's the reason they went though so many nannies, with her using Wilma as a decoy while she ran off. It wasn't until their 9th nanny, who actually had experience with twins, that their scheme was ruined and was ratted out.

* Like Olson, she met Odlaw far before she met Wally, offering to help Odlaw with math homework and tutor him. They've been friends since, less so with Odlaw's scheme to steal her boyfriend's magic walking stick.

-Still hangs out with him sometimes, but that's more of a once in a blue moon kinda thing.

* Met Waldo in high school, but fell in love with him during her finals project for photography. It was a photoshoot of a lovely river flowing by a blooming willow with a family of ducks, but as she took a picture, it was disturbed by our candy cane fellow chasing after Woof. Many apologies and chit-chat was made that day, and Wenda still has this picture hanging up in her apartment. Had no clue Waldo was the same guy Wilma was dating at the time, so.. it's still a bit awkward.

•》Wilma (1991)《•

* Full Name: Wilma Ann Wilder

Poor girl.. never stood a chance. Was always served as a second fiddle to her older sister. Even when Wenda was behind her back, she never ended up with the boy..

* Moved out of the apartment, dropped college, and left her things there the moment she found out Waldo and Wenda started dating. Never to be seen again..

* She moved out into a larger city and reapplied to another college, ofc finding herself working part time in the fast food chains and sleeping in her car.

* Passed college and gained a masters in photography and forsenics, and set out to travel the world a bit. Stopping by a cute bakery in Egypt, she accidently came across a certain theif in red who's also known for having "Where" as an associated question YEP, WILMA X CARMEN SANDIEGO BBYGRL-

* They would later go on to have a surrogate and have Waldo's nephew Willy (red hair)

* Wilma still doesn't like Waldo, not even bothering to visit in fear of the memories occuring again (plus her Gf's job could lead the three of them in trouble if people were to find out, and unforturnately Wilma knows what type of person Waldo is , or thinks she does) but let's Willy visit him now and again to either babysit or hang out. One day they'll work it out.. or not-

LAST BATCH OF HEADCANONS: THE WHITEBEARDS!

[swimmingwolf59]

Okay. But can we talk about how absolutely beautiful enstars writing is??? I've only read a few stories (and mandatory disclaimer that I don't play the game lol, only help a passionate friend translate the stories), but there is SO MUCH they pack into even just the short introductory stories that make me go !!!!! (Spoilers for Kohaku's and HiMERU's character arcs below the cut)

The line that really blew me away in Kohaku's story is when he's talking about the kanji that make up his name, and Anzu calls his name beautiful. Kohaku's response is (roughly): "Dead, falling leaves of the cherry blossoms, bugs trapped in sap flowing down a stream… I guess, from afar, you would see that as beautiful."

Before we as the reader know ANYTHING about Kohaku's family life, we learn from this that he associates his family name with death and feeling trapped. The kanji of his last name IS beautiful! The first one is cherry blossom, and the second one is a variant for "river". He, however, thinks of the death and imprisonment behind those things we find beautiful - instead of the beauty of falling cherry blossom petals, he thinks of the fact that those petals are dead leaves. Instead of the beauty of sap glistening in the sun as it flows down a river, he thinks of the dead insects trapped in that sap. He doesn't see the beauty of the kanji, because, as he tells Anzu, he's too close to it - instead, he's all tangled up in his complicated relationship with his family. Death and imprisonment - that's what his family name means to him.

And I just think this is an amazing detail to add, like if you don't know Kohaku's past you read this and think he's just being kinda poetic, but if you DO, it becomes so much more meaningful and impactful. And I think they really do an amazing job of unpacking each idol's theme in their character introductions - it's so easy to see the "prisoner" theme for Kohaku even when he's not directly talking about it.

Same with HiMERU and his ghost theme. Omfg I could talk about HiMERU's introductory story forever LOL. I love that HiMERU's introduction starts with him popping up out of nowhere and saying "You looking for ghosts?" Like what a way to introduce your ghost character LMAO (Anzu may not know it, but she is looking for ghosts - she's looking for HiMERU.) I was actually surprised by how much he reveals about himself in this story lol. Like he says, "for various reasons, HiMERU thinks of himself as someone else." Even without knowing his past at all, you know this guy's got some identity issues going on lol. They even drop an "I" usage for Oremeru, immediately introducing the concept of HiMERU making the distinction between "HiMERU" and "I". I also really like the section where we learn that the real him doesn't really like the occult, like the juxtaposition of this man living someone else's life, the idol with the theme "ghost", DESPISING THE OCCULT.... There's so much self-hatred tangled up in this seemingly innocent discussion I feel like lol. And I really love that they use the "ghost" theme, and this distinction between "HiMERU" and "I", as a way to show that Oremeru is THERE, but he isn't REALLY there, because he's masquerading as HiMERU. Oremeru is like a ghost in the background to all of the stuff HiMERU is saying to Anzu.

"Despite being right in front of HiMERU, HiMERU forgot you existed while going on and on about HiMERU’s own thoughts…you are just like a ghost. You are here, but not here. It seems we are two birds of a feather!" I wonder who's projecting their insecurities onto others now, HiMERU...

Anyway this is just me rambling, but GOSH I really love the writing in this game lol

[fuzzykazeki87]

La Seine (Kaze to ki no uta Short Story)

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Seine river, Paris, France - 1886

Years have passed since Serge took Gilbert away from the slums.

Even though he and Pascal had to use a little force, Gilbert finally couldn't help but give in.

Now, Serge was being pulled by an impatient Gilbert all the way. He held his top hat down by the brim slightly with his other hand, the sound of their loafers tapping fast on the streets of Paris and several passersby who would look in their direction.

"G-Gilbert, slow down!"

Serge shrieked when they almost hit a merchant who shouted at them.

“D-Désolé!” he apologize quick with a swift move glancing at the old man over his shoulder before shifting back on the energized Gilbert's back in front of him.

Suddenly the world felt like time was moving slowly. He admired Gilbert's wavy golden hair which was starting to get a little longer than before bouncing under the top hat he was wearing, the knee-length frock coat that hugged Gilbert's slender body and created a beautiful curve even from the back.

Both of them are both 19 now. They had entered the stage of true maturity after being forced to become adults after they escaped from Lacombrade 3-4 years ago. Serge's piano skills led him to a musical career and performing in front of many people as a young pianist who became quite famous (and also because he's phsically charming), while Gilbert had completely recovered from the effects of the drugs that almost killed him. He had half forgotten about Auguste thanks to Serge. He tries to take a job that suits what he likes, in Art.

They finally arrived at the Pont Neuf bridge. Gilbert suddenly stopped his track as if he put on the brakes and let go of Serge's hand causing the dark-skinned man to get throwned off, losing his balance and-

"UWAAA-!!"

Gilbert, regained his conscious after hearing a loud thump and some gasps. He quickly look to the side and his green eyes widen immediately; Serge, laying on his face on the ground, grunting mostly in pain, his hat was an inches far from him and fingers slightly twitching.

"SERGE!!"

Well....that's the opening.

.....

"I'm sorry."

said Gilbert muttering with his pink rose petal-like lips slightly pouted and his sharp eyebrows furrowed as he cleaned Serge's slightly dirty face with his hands, by gently patting them and rubbing.

Gilbert rarely expresses or shows emotions. He almost looked like a puppet being moved by strings, but this time, Serge could see and feel his emotions.

He scrunched up his nose when the blond brushes off the bridge of his nose, his other hand cupping his jawline firmly. These gestures of Gilbert are very affectionate.

"I was too excited, didn't I?", the beauty says with a slight smirk and he put Serge's top hat back on his head.

"Ah..you're always too excited."

Gilbert raise an eyebrow and he turn away scoffing, elbowing Serge's stomach.

"Ouchie!"

"Shush."

The dark skinned boy laugh nervously while rubbing the spot where Gilbert hit him. They approached the barrier wall of the bridge and leaned forward looking down the Seine.

"This is my first time seeing the Seine." said Serge softly with a smile. He felt two sharp eyes glued on him from beside him, "Really?"

"Yeah, I only know about the city of Paris, but never the Seine...La Seine."

"I only heard and read about the Seine River in the library when we were at school, but never actually came here. Even when we were living in our first apartment, even though it was in Paris, we could never come here."

Serge said while continuing to look down at the lively and calmly flowing Seine river.

"Because, we were stressed out with such poor amount of pennies." add Gilbert bluntly and Serge couldn't help but snorts, covering his mouth.

"What? It's true! Ne te moque pas de moi ! (Don't laugh at me!)", Gilbert said with cheeks flushed red, embarassed deeply and shoves Serge to the side as he continue to hold in his laugh.

Serge rub his eyes as his cheeks were hurting from trying not to laugh and he wave his hand defensely at the blond, "Okay, okay, sorry. P-Pardonnez-moi de rire. (P-Pardon me for laughing.)" he said a bit breathlessly.

Gilbert scowl and turn his face away for a moment, but he roll his eyes playfully and formed a small smile. He turned his face back to Serge,

"Well, actually I have been here several times. It's just that at that time I was little and didn't understand anything. As time went by, I became fascinated by Paris and the Seine river.

One of the hearts of France is the Seine river... it's like a heart, it wouldn't live without a heart." Gilbert said while looking straight ahead with the wind blowing over the two of them. The gust of wind made his golden hair underneath his top hat seem to dance in the air.

Serge who looked at him felt breathless, his mouth slightly agape.

Truly perfect beauty.

"...I used think of myself as Paris, but without a Seine so I feel lifeless.

But, who would have thought, that I had now found my Seine and it was standing right next to me now."

Serge's breath hitched and red color slowly raising up in both of his cheeks when he realize what does the blond referring to.

The blond smile and walked up to Serge, standing right in front of him. The brown eyed stunned when Gilbert suddenly cup his face gently with both hands, holding his jaw.

Gilbert's thumbs traced Serge's chin with his eyes following the movement. His hands slide down Serge's high collar, resting on his firm chest underneath the layers.

"Yeah, it's you. Happy now?"

Seine

I am Gilbert's Seine.

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[starry-eyed-extraterrestrial]

Hi!, this is a little one shot I made for my moot @anaalnathrakhs , hey, I hope you like this, this was giving me a lot of trouble but after I got some sleep (finally) I think it's actually cute, if a bit too short for my liking.

Tommy's chest is wet with tears and snot. Nikki lays with his face pressed up against Tommy's lanky frame, hair a complete mess and crying his eyes out.

Tommy doesn't know how exactly he ended up like this, one moment he's passing out face first on his bed (floor mattress) after a few too many drinks and the next Nikki is practically breaking down his door to yell about something or other and when Tommy asks why Nikki is even upset, because he's certainly not the one who took Nikki's cocaine (he thinks) so he has no idea why Nikki even came to him in the first place, Nikki is already in tears.

Tommy's only really known Nikki for about a month and they've only been living together a couple weeks, but in all that time Tommy had kind of made a character sketch on who all the guys were and what they were like. And Nikki before this moment pegged him as everything but a crier.

The guy was tough as nails and cold as ice. He went through life like a wrecking ball, crushing everything in sight that wasn't useful and swinging hands at the first sight of trouble, he was a total maniac, and Tommy liked that.

He was so different from anybody he'd ever met before and he was so ready to make it Tommy has no doubt that he'd kill someone for a little taste of stardom, and he was into crazy antics and good music. So all and all just his type.

But laying here now on his two dollar mattress under his crusty ass sheets with Nikki's wet hot face mashed into his chest and his stage makeup once pristine, now ruined on the surface of his sternum made him second guess all the things he thought he knew about the bassist.

But it didn't make him think less of the older man. No, in fact he's glad to know that his best friend is actually a human and not just some demon who spawned to existence out of his own spite for the idea.

So to try and silently deliver that message, he hugs the crying man closer to his body, just to let him know that he was okay, and that they were okay and that this sign of vulnerability didn't change Tommy's opinions about him at all.

Nikki doesn't share a sign back that he understood what Tommy was trying to say, he just simply continued to cry, like he'd been holding rivers back for years and tonight they'd finally flooded the inside of the rotten house of his soul and burst out with no control.

Tommy feels his heart ache for his friend when a particularly loud sob flows out from the storm. That night he made a decision, one that he'd go back on a few times in the future and then completely forget years later only to return to his word even further in his life, when age started to not be so kind to them anymore.

He will never let go of Nikki Sixx.