#oh and wind sand and stars

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐀𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐙𝐌𝐎𝐒 𝐀-𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: being a mermaid, it's part of you nature to bring the object of your affection gifts in the hopes of swaying their gaze. how do these pirates handle your onslaught of treasures?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: nami, luffy, and sanji x mermaid!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k (.6k luffy, .4k nami, .6k sanji)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: mermaid!reader, continuation of this fic, requested

LUFFY

When you first began to court Luffy via your pod’s traditions, you quickly realized you’d have to improvise; Luffy had no clue what any of your actions meant, no matter how obvious you made it.

You brought your captain countless gifts, ranging from perfect pearls to slightly chipped sand dollars, and each time all he did was smile, thank you, and skip away to add your gift to his growing collection.

This time, however, you would make sure he understood, lest your sanity slip away. 

He sat criss crossed on his special seat, the mast of the ship, and you stood on the deck with a pretty pink and blue conch shell in hand. Hopeful eyes set on the man you admired, you failed to notice Robin coming up beside you. She hummed softly, startling you. “Oh, hi.”

“He’ll like that one.” Robin smiled cheekily. “But you want my advice?”

“Please.”

A chuckle left her as she looked on at her captain. “Be as straightforward as you can. Ask him what his feelings are.”

Blinking widely, you gazed back at Luffy. That surely seemed easy enough. Steeling yourself with a sigh, you nodded once and trudged forward, up the stairs to the foredeck and all the way up to where the masthead met the deck. Words rose to your lips and fell short, breath caught by the way the wind and sun sat around him like good friends. Luffy sat leaned back on his hands, eyes gently shut, easy smile on his face. You couldn’t dare to break such a moment, not till you nearly dropped the shell and let slip a little yelp. 

Luffy reacted instantly, tilting back his head to see what was the matter. He grinned upon seeing you, sending jitters through your belly. “Hey!” His eyes lowered to the conchshell tight in your grasp, jabbing a finger at it. “What’s that?”

He already knew it was for him; Luffy grew to look forward to your random gifts, treasuring them in his quarters and spending a little time each morning just admiring them. 

You glanced down at your gift, mustering up your courage and hoping beyond hoping that he’ll finally understand. “It’s for you. I found it this morning.”

Found was an understatement. You’d scoured the seafloor all morning to find something worthy of bestowing upon your love. Luffy beamed even brighter, if possible. “Really?” He slid off the mast and landed right in front of you. 

Luffy’s eyes shown like stars, his lips slightly parted as he ghosted his hands over the silky surface of the shell. You passed it on to his caloused hands, skin sparking as his fingers slid against yours. You stood transfixed upon him and how gently he handled the gift, turning it this way and that to see every nook and cranny, leaving no part of it unknown. A sharp ba-dump ba-dump echoed in your chest.

“It’s great,” he breathed, raising his eyes to peer into yours. Soft wasn’t a word one would use to describe Luffy. Brash and loud, yes. But not soft. Yet, there was this secret shadow of him that was softer beyond compare, only revealed in moments of deep distress… or right now, when you hand him a piece of your heart.

You felt a soft prod at your back, hand lunging back to catch a phantom wrist. You quickly released Robin’s hand, whipping around to spy her, but she was nowhere in sight. Puffing your cheeks, you swiveled back just to find Luffy leaning close over your shoulder, eyes squinted. “What’re we looking for?”

“N-Nothing.” Gazing into his face, you coiled your fists. “Luffy, I have a question.” 

Instantly, all his attention was on you, pleasantly awaiting. “Mhmm?”

“I… I was wondering… do—do you—do you like… tangerines?”

Luffy blinked a little blankly, before shrugging a shoulder. “Yeah, I like ‘em. What an odd question.” He ruffled up your hair and hurried off. “I’m gonna add this to my collection. Thanks a bunch!”

“Yeah… no problem.” Cupping yoru face in your hands, you groaned disparingly. Cracking open an eye, you found a single arm sprouting from the deck rail sporting a thumb’s up of comfort. 

NAMI

The gifts had been a constant before you and Nami made it official, but after? Nami was running out of room to keep all the nick-nacks you showered her with. She’d never tell you that though, the smile on your face each time you offered up a gift a treasure in itself.

So Nami settled for becoming the ship’s interior decorator, making it a project to find the best places to present your increasingly beautiful finds. 

Hanging from the wall in the galley was a giant piece of seaglass wrapped in fishing net. On the kitchen table an array of shells sat in a decorative bowl. Each of the boys had a whole sand dollar they were not allowed to touch on the their bed table.

It took you a few weeks to notice it, with the decorations growing over time, but when you did a surprised yet excited beam took you face. You noticed the solid pink clam shell you’d found a month ago among the table decorations, immediately whirling on Nami with a bright smile. “I found that, didn’t I?”

She was worried you’d be upset with her decorating, but now you coudln’t have looked happier. Nami’s cheeks reddened as she laughed, nodding. “You did. I thought I’d put some of your treasures around so we can all admire them.”

You shot up from the table and bounded off. “How many more are there? Did you hide them?”

Nami watched misty eyed, heart warm as the sound of your voice echoed back to the galley. Robin chuckled behind her hand, winking when Nami caught her eye. Nami blushed deeper and, flustered, got up to chase after you.

After that, she really set out to hide the gifts you brought her, tucking them between books and pans. Your search grew to be a calm sort of game. You would be lying in a hammock by Nami’s side, her reading a book aloud, when you lazily pointed to the bookshelf and murmured, “There’s the blue one I got last week.”

The whole crew even joined in after a while, and a board was set up in the galley to tally the scores. Even after four months of the treasure hide-and-seek, you came out on top with the most finds, and if someone dared to come close to taking your title? Well, you reminded them that you have two rows of razor-sharp teeth, and suddenly you were champion once again.

SANJI Sanji treasures each and every gift you bring him, to the point where his nose starts to bleed every other trinket. He doesn’t love the gifts a normal amount, okay. He will set them up all over the kitchen and randomly point them out to anyone nearby.

“Look at that one! She had to have dove down so many depths to get it. Ah~”

“Mosshead, get your slimy, bottom-feeder hands away from my seashells.”

Everyone knew to treat your gifts to Sanji with immense care, and that fact sent a wave of pride through your heart. You sat at the kitchen counter watching him cook, lining up the shells just to admire them, every once in a while making them into the shape of a heart and sending him into cardiac arrest. 

Oh, but the gift he’s most proud of? It’s the one he wears round his neck every single day.

The first pearl you brought him was a small thing, around the size of a pinky, and you handed it to him shyly while saying you couldn’t find a bigger one to display. Sanji barely breathed, rolling it in his palm and just thinking of how lucky he is to have you, that you would dive down into the sea just to find him the most beautiful treasures. 

Yes, it was part of your culture, so part of this was customary to you, but after each of his lovely reactions your gift-giving grew into more of a habit of the heart, eyes always peeled for any trinket Sanji might enjoy. So when you noticed how he held the pearl with such care, the milky white of it looking so nice against his palm, you got an idea.

Every single morning for the next two months you gathered pearl after pearl, keeping them in a little box under your bed. Sneakily, you even managed to take the original pearl from the ring box Sanji kept it in. The scare it gave him when he awoke, turned to his bed table, and his prized gift from his lovely mermaid was missing?? He was inconsolable, so much so that you rushed to give him his gift a day earlier, giggling as you cut off his apologies.

“It’s okay,” you beamed, handing him a small paper wrapped object. “I think this will fix it.”

You bounced on your heels as Sanji sat down at the counter and delicately handled the paper, revealing the pearl necklace within. For the longest moment, he said nothing at all, only staring down at it blankly. You ducked to catch more of his expression, worrying your lip between your teeth. “Do you like it?”

Sanji’s lips ticked upward, eyes holding so much affection you could feel it hit you as he raised his gaze. “I love it. Thank you, my love.”

You couldn’t hold back the magnitude of your smile, reached to help him put it on. As soon as the cool pearls hit his skin, he felt a sense of wholeness only you could explain. He ran a finger over the necklace, wiping away a trail of blood with his wrist, and turned to take you in his arms. 

From that day forth, he never took the necklace off. 

Sanji never wasted a moment he could show it off, unbuttoning the tops of his shirts so it was more visible. You were more than pleased by this, hanging off his arm as you swept through markets, casting every admiring woman a lethal glare before reaching to toy with the pearls around his neck.

Let’s just say the gift satisfied a more possessive part of your nature you did your best to hide from your lover.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@100520s

[vivalabunbun]

When It Rains, Why Does It Pour?

Summary: Sand is quite a nuisance, it creeps into every crevice and no amount of dusting can free oneself from its stubborn hold. Yet, the tide still greets the shore.

Word Count: 8.8k (oh no...)

Tags: Neuvillette x GN!Reader, human!reader, SFW, fluff, childhood friends AU, Slow Burn, Slow Fic, Angst, Hurt with Comfort, themes about reincarnation, TW: Themes about death and loss, themes about aging, immortal x mortal AU, not lore accurate, reader is an attendant, human prejudice, Spoilers Warning: His story quest and archon quests, speculations about his past in Fontaine, why is he so mysterious

Authors Note: This was a challenge trying to write from the POV of a man you don't even know the name of, but I just had to write something for him. A character study of Neuvillette. Enjoy!

How long has it been since he first arrived here? One month? Two? Or perhaps it has already been a year? The young dragon wasn’t too sure.

The days seem to blend together when one only eats, studies, and sleeps all on repeat. A cruel trait of time. The weather outside the glass windows didn’t provide any hints either.

However, he himself is to blame. 

A gray haze concealed azure skies as rhythmic drops of rain hit the earth. Blocking out the all-seeing sun and nurturing moon, the murky clouds above even hinder the stars from accompanying him.

A true reflection of his current solitude. 

The young dragon arrived in the human world, brought over by the lord of Fontaine. Due to the nature of his arrival to this nation, he was given status and importance in the eyes of the citizens. However, he has yet to receive acceptance. 

The grand estate in which he resides was staffed with countless butlers and maids, renowned chefs, and skilled tutors. He was wanting of nothing, yet still impoverished. 

He could see it in their mortal eyes, he could sense it in the tangible silence of the halls, he could tell from the distance each mortal put between themselves and him. 

Much like the towering stone walls which surrounded his private residence.

Was it to separate themselves from him or himself from them?

A question he entertains as lilac eyes scan over the aforementioned wall. Its gray stones are a welcomed change from the dry parchment with even drier content. 

As he observes the drab stones contrast against a dreary sky, a small flash of white cuts through the somber composition.

Catching his lilac eyes as they follow the strange shape, it drifts through the capricious wind before the breeze grew bored and tossed it to the ground.

Studying it a bit further, the young dragon identifies the object as a simple pillowcase. Nothing more than a scrap of fabric. 

He reasons that the wind must’ve stolen it from some clothesline. Just when he was about to return to the legal ledgers a rustling came from the bushes lining the bottom of the wall.

A small frame pushes apart the thick vegetation, creating enough space to finally free themselves from the entangled mess of branches. 

The towering wall, the one meant to separate him from the mortals, was defeated by a mere child.

A child who’s clumsy brushing the twigs from their garments and shaking a few raindrops from their hair. He watches as the small human trots toward the discarded pillowcase, a pout forming on their lips as they observe the mud that had seeped into the silk. 

Judging by the simple attire they don, they must be the child of a maid. 

Ah humans, fickle and temperamental creatures created by the usurpers. It took a conscious effort on his part to stop the frown threatening to appear on his lips.

Seems like he still needs to get used to their presence. 

It was as if the child sensed the bitterness in his thoughts because soon a pair of wide eyes connected with lilac. Even with the sun hiding behind dreary clouds, there was a light that twinkled in their irises. 

It was only for a minute, no, even less than that. But a young dragon and a young human held each other’s gaze. 

The child’s shoulders jolt as they turn their head back toward the wall, as if a voice called for them. Casting one last glance toward the young dragon, the child trots back toward the wall, disappearing within the murky viridescent. 

And that was the end, like the breeze that littered a scrap of fabric among the grass, the small human came and went.

Such fickle creatures, the young dragon gives it one last thought before returning his attention back to a cluttered desk. 

–

Amongst the soft drumming of droplets came a tap against the glass too sharp to be caused by the gentle rain. Causing the young dragon to turn away from the stacks of books laid out before him.

The wet glass obscured a small flicker of an orange glow, thus he walked closer to investigate. With each step, the figure outside the window became undeciphered.

That small human again. 

Locking eyes with the human outside the glass, the fickle creature’s lips curl up, the glow of their lamp illuminating the curiosity behind their gaze.

A human child doesn’t have the potential to cause much if any harm to him. Thus, he releases the lock, removing the glass barrier separating two breathes. 

“Hello! What is uh… your name?” They chirp out. 

His sharp ears picked up the clumsiness in their speech, the subtle unfamiliarity of the words they spoke. Distinct signs that you were still learning the language of Fontaine, much like him.

Although he understood your question, he was too distracted to answer. Lilac eyes wandering off toward the stone wall. Within the entangled mess of twigs, there was a small parting.

A part just wide enough to reveal the secret the bushes desperately tried to hide: A small hole along the bottom of the stone barrier. Just enough for a small creature to slip through. 

Discovering the truth behind how a small human was able to defeat such a seemingly impenetrable wall. 

The pattering of the rain was interrupted by the rustling of fabric, drawing his attention back to the small human in front of him.

The child rummages through their pockets before pulling out a lump covered by a handkerchief. Peeling back the layer of fabric to reveal some conch madeleines, presenting fragmented sweets before the young dragon. 

“It tastes good, I promise.” A small hand extends itself further through the open window. 

Observing the crumbly sweets laid out upon a handkerchief, the young dragon halted the rejection that almost escaped his lips. Remembering the concepts he had just been reading before this.

Humans tend to follow a set of unwritten rules, principles they like to call ‘manners’. There weren’t any punishments issued by law if those rules were broken, no imprisonment or fines.

However, narrow-eye stares and whispers behind backs were the punishments issued to transgressors by society. 

So, he accepts a piece, trying to ignore the sand-like sensation against his tongue. As he chewed, the grin on the human’s face only got wider.

“Now that you’ve taken one, you have to give me your name, it’s only uh… fair!” 

Ah, it looks like he’s been tricked. Falling into the clumsy sugar-coated trap only a child could come up with. Yet, as his lilac gaze caught the twinkle still ever so bright in their eyes, he didn’t have the strength to form a frown. 

Just a curious human child, only as dangerous as a firefly buzzing in his ear. There shouldn’t be any harm in disclosing the surname bestowed upon him by this nation.

“Neuvillette.” He finally said his first words to you. 

A peculiar pattern is recurring. That rainy night when Neuvillette opened those windows, it looked like he welcomed a phenomenon in as well. 

Even in his current state, a small human like you could pose no possible threat to him. Thus, whenever a certain tap was placed against the glass. He saw no reason to turn away the visitor. Allowing you to climb in through his window time and time again.

It would’ve been better if you used the door. However, he’s aware of the complications such a request would bring.

Perhaps it’s because he’s currently in the form of a young child, sharing a similar stature to yours. From his observations, humans do have a tendency to gravitate toward those with similar traits. Or perhaps, you’re just exceptionally brazen. 

Neuvillette glances up from his book, thick with endless sentences describing obscure and frivolous laws, landing on your frame lazing around upon a rug.

One hand holds onto a collection of fables, pages illuminated by the gentle rays of a star. While the other periodically reaches out toward a pile of conch madeleine.

A sight he’s come to expect now. 

Lavender eyes follow your hand as it brings another one of the crumbly sweets to your mouth again. You brought them over under the pretense of sharing them with him, yet they’re already half gone. The only hand reaching for the sweets being yours.

Just like how it was last time, and the time before that, and the one before that as well. 

If you felt this complacent in his presence now, then perhaps he can be more candid with you. As is common practice among humans to present a polite front that gradually wears away each recurring meeting. 

“You do not have to bring over any more conch madeleine.” 

The moment those words left his lips the motion of your hand halted, looking up to connect your sight with his, confusion pinching together your brows.  

“Oh? Why so suddenly?” The collection of fables now resting on the rug. 

It’s already been done, the first ripple in the frangible water between you and him. There is nothing that can cease the waves that accompany the first breach. He might as well say the whole truth. 

“They are dry, I cannot fathom how you can bring yourself to eat them.” Prescriptive eyes caught a faint flinch as you processed his edict.

“They taste fine to me…” You mutter, picking another one up. 

This time you chewed slower. The pinch between your brow only grew as you tasted the sweet again, searching for the perceived flaw.

As you met his gaze once more, he could tell your search brought forth no fruitful conclusions. Thus you asked another question in response.

“Then what do you like?”

Besides the pleasantries commonly exchanged between humans in Fontaine, Neuvillette recognizes he lacks the talent for small talk.

The room usually filled with your grievances about whichever tedious task you were assigned before you slipped away behind a wall and into his private residence. Ambient noise which accompanied each flip of a law book. 

It is long overdue for him to pull his weight in a conversation. 

“Water, spring water.”

“Huh?”

Neuvillette repeats his sentence but the scrunch of your brows doesn’t ease up, he couldn’t fight the urge to draw in a deep breath. So this is the limitation of the human palate, how regrettable. 

“Perhaps you are still too simple to appreciate the qualities of water.” 

The pout upon your crumb-covered lips morphs into a tight line, sealing away your voice.  The brightly printed cover of a storybook was shut as the last few remaining treats were bundled away in a napkin. 

Your tea break ended early today, impassive eyes following your figure as it disappeared among the thick vegetation beside a stone barrier. 

It was quiet today, not even a single parting uttered past your sealed lips. Therefore leaving the conversation unfinished. 

But that is today, you’ll have another tea break tomorrow, and you’ll come to him with your grievances about chores tomorrow as well. 

The young dragon returns his focus to the text in front of him. 

–

The soft hymn of raindrops against a glass window reverbed through the solitary study, providing a melody for the periodic flips of paper. But the melody was hollow, incomplete.

Shifting his body to look behind himself at the vacant rug, Neuvillette deduces why. The accompaniment was missing. 

That tomorrow he had come to expect never came. 

Had he committed a transgression? Overstep a line outside his place? Food is a point of pride for many humans, one oddity he’s yet to grasp.

These temperamental creatures tend to lash out when their pride is wounded, much like how a beast reacts to an unhealed cut. 

Neuvillette was curious as to whether this was an inherent trait of humanity or a learned by-product of the fickle principles imposed on themselves.

However, observing the abandoned storybook tucked away, the young dragon is leaning towards the former. 

Turning back to face his desk, his eyes could only glaze over the monotonous scribbles. Perhaps the cause of his spiritless attitude was disappointment, disappointment in himself. 

It looks like he was careless, deluding himself with the misconception that you and him were alike. Two outsiders who found solace in each other’s presence.

However, this was false. You were an outsider to Fontaine, but he was an outsider to this world where humans walked. 

He’s still too naive.

Fickle and temperamental creatures spoiled by the usurpers at the expense of his ancestors.

Why did he even entertain the thought that you and him could ever be alike?

Something stirred from within, like when pebbles were thrown into still water, but what were those pebbles? As Neuvillette ponders this conundrum, the drumming of the rain grows louder. 

However, it wasn’t loud enough to swallow up the sharp set of taps which interrupted his somber reflection. Jolting him from his thoughts, snapping his attention to the source of the noise.

There stood a figure distorted by the wet glass as another set of sharp taps sounded through the room. 

Before Neuvillette could even process it, his body moved without his command. Unlatching the lock and setting the window free from its frame.

Not sparing another second to the raindrops soaking into their cloak, the figure clambers through the window with practiced proficiency.

Without uttering a single greeting, not even one pleasantry, you situated yourself on his floor. Melting into an undignified lump on the pristine tiles as bewildered eyes watched you.

After catching a few breaths, an explanation finally makes its way to his ears. 

“T-they… they patched… up the hole,” you huffed out between short breaths. 

Ah, the small cavity in the stone wall that you used to escape from chores. Looks like the security at the estate finally noticed.

Gauging the height of the wall from his place by the window, he’s aware of how it towers over both him and you the same.

This brings up another question as he returns to observe your frame, still trying to catch the breaths that evade you. 

“I… ran… through the gates… before the… Gardes noticed…” Exhaustion evident in your eyes as pants break up your sentence. 

Ah, looks like his question was answered before he even inquired. To be puzzled or amazed, he wasn’t too sure how to categorize this ripple inside him.

The tomorrow that’s been missing for a little more than two weeks, is now right in front of him.

Panting and leaving a few muddy traces along the marble floor, but here nonetheless. 

With one deep motion of your lungs, you pushed your body up, finally getting ahold of your breath. The familiar rustle of your pocket, the audio cue for a certain dry sweet to appear. Neuvillette didn’t mind in the least.

Perhaps, he can bear the sandy sensation just for today. But tomorrow is always filled up with surprises, a glass bottle finding its way out of your pocket instead of sugary treats. 

“What is that?” An obvious question, but his voice found its way out of his mouth.

“Water, water from the servant’s well, I bottled it myself.” A small hand holds the bottle out more. 

“Thank you,” Neuvillette accepts it into his hands. 

He should really acquire some glasses to pour the water out into, it’s improper and bad manners to drink from the bottle.

However, his curiosity was greater. Or maybe, he didn’t realize just how parched he had become from waiting for tomorrow. 

Uncapping the clumsily packaged water, he takes a generous sip. 

“It’s sweet.” His tongue picking up on a subtle saccharine undertone. 

“Really?” Your hand reaches up as that familiar shine illuminates your eyes. 

Taking a sip from the bottle passed back into your grasp, your brows furrowing in concentration. Another sip was taken from the bottle as you continued to search for the sweetness in the water you’ve always drank.

A sight that tugged up at the lips of a boy still studying the shape of your quirked brows. 

Humans, fickle, perplexing, yet astoundingly curious creatures from the very beginning.

If he is to walk amongst the human world, then it’s best for him to be equally curious. To try and search for the harmony between two different breaths. 

A child of a maid far from their homeland. A status too insignificant to warrant the attention of Fontaine's factions, freeing you from their prying eyes and entanglements.

Therefore, it should be alright for him to continue observing you, no?

“Ahh… The rain is so unpredictable here in Fontaine, trying to hang out the wash here is always a gamble.” You sink further into the plush cushions of his settee. 

As the sun rose and fell, as the leaves grew green then gold, as the ground froze and thawed.

One thing remained unchanged throughout these cycles even as they repeated: your grievances over chores. 

The frequency of these complaints reaching his ears has increased, on the part that you now took over more of your mother’s responsibilities in managing the laundry of this estate. 

Besides your habitual complaints of the weather, one detail didn’t escape Neuvillette’s hearing: your proficiency in the Fontainian language has increased significantly.

Words no longer spoken clumsily or with unfamiliarity. Accent nearly indistinguishable from a native speaker. 

“The people here are fond of creating strange machinery, why can’t they make something to dry clothes?” You resume. 

The quill in his hand stops as he pauses in the middle of a sentence, glancing over his shoulder toward your slouching figure making yourself comfortable in the sofa that’s more familiar with your shape than his. 

“Perhaps you should be the one to create it, studying might do you some good as well,” came his curt response. 

His candid advice makes you sink further into the cushions with a groan. 

“I’d rather travel than study those jumbled-up books about machinery or whatever, in fact, I want to visit my homeland as soon as I can,” you grumble aloud. 

Ah, that’s right, you’re approaching the age where you could travel freely.

By law, you won’t be bound to the side of your mother, not needing any permission to come to and fro however you wish. No longer kept at this estate washing and folding sheets.

Indeed, you and him found yourselves in similar situations: on the cusp of freedom from this estate. 

While he was deep in thought, you filled the silence left behind by posing a question to him. 

“Do you plan on visiting your homeland anytime soon, Neuvi?” 

By now, the young dragon had stopped expending the effort to try and correct you in your butchering of his surname. Your reason being ‘it’s too long’.

Alongside you, he has grown in stature as well, elapsing you some time ago much to your dismay. If he wished to travel, not much would pose a problem to the young dragon.

However… where could he return to? A homeland… was there a section of his homeland untouched by the usurpers? If he were to go, would he ever want to return to this world?

Sensing the change in the air, dreary clouds blocking the sun’s rays from your skin, you were perceptive enough to ramble about a different matter.

Namely, how the chef of the estate recently changed the type of flour used in the kitchens, resulting in pastries and sweets that were less airy but more flavorful. 

Explaining to him the subtle improvements and deterioration in the quality of some baked goods. Filling the air of the study with bright-eyed ramblings until rays of light peek out from waning clouds. 

–

“Monsieur Neuvillette! It’s been a while since you’ve visited!” Soft patters of skipping steps made their way to the tall man. 

Tilting his sights down, Neuvillette greets the cheery melusine with a gentle smile which she returned with an equally bright grin.

While on a routine stroll along the riverbanks to stretch his legs after a long day, he found himself at the entrance of Merusea Village.

He wonders if it's his body’s natural response to get away from the Palais Mermonia and Opera Epiclese. 

Carrying him toward the direction of a secluded reprieve he discovered far away from the suspicious eyes of weary humans.

Condemnatory eyes were constantly pinned to the back of the young dragon who had recently emerged from a sheltered estate to sit in the grand seat of a Chief Justice. 

Days filled with nothing but a cacophony of voices echoing off the opera house walls. Screams from the accused and the eager murmurs of spectators blended into nothing more than a chaotic din in his ears. 

Gazing deeper into the small lake, the unsuspecting entrance to a hidden haven that the Melusines called home.

It would only take a moment, just one dip into the pristine water for him to disappear from the clamorous mortal realm.

Abandoning the overly grand seat of his post as easily as it would take for his head to vanish under the tranquil tide.

How great would it be to exist in the presence of creatures who could resonate with his own adriftness?

Maybe, he could finally discover the purpose of his current form and longevity in their company. Yes, that sounds about right. 

Just as the water wet the tip of his overly ornate shoe, all motion his body stills at a familiar call. 

“NEUVI!” Came a voice from just over the beaten path. 

Soon your silhouette follows the echo of your call, steps hurried yet worn.

When the young dragon departed from his temporary estate and into the Palais Mermonia, a certain specter followed him as well.

The same specter who’s currently huffing to catch their breath after such a rush. Trying to gather enough air to form their next sentence. 

“There you are! The grand tailor sent me to fetch you because you’re almost an hour late to the fitting of your new robe, they need to make sure the measurements are correct,” you chide. 

The exasperation of your words was most definitely caused by the fact you had to physically exert yourself in your search for the wandering Chief Justice. Evident by the pout on your lips and scrunched nose. 

His attention was quickly torn away from your recuperating figure by a faint tug of his slacks.

The Melusine had hidden herself behind his legs, creating a barrier between her and the strange mortal who seemingly appeared from the blue.

Her sudden movement caught your attention as well. 

Ah, that’s right. The Melusines have yet to be acquainted with humans, and humans with Melusines.

Two different species, two different breaths, and two different sets of eyes that can’t seem to see directly into each other. 

If his time within the wall of the estate and Palais Mermonia had proven anything, it would be the natural adversity humans had to differences.

Neuvillete certainly wasn’t prepared for such an event, nor was he sure how to handle it. 

In the midst of his inaction, your hand reached into your pocket, fumbling around before pulling out a handkerchief-covered lump.

Despite the soreness in your legs, you lowered your body until you were at eye level with the shorter Melusine. 

“Hello there, would you like some conch madeleines?” Unraveling the fabric to reveal the sweets which you seem to have an abundant supply of. 

The grip on his slacks tightened as she glanced up at him, lilac eyes catching the hesitance in her irises. Neuvillette gives a subtle nod, giving just enough reassurance for the small creature to release his pant leg.

Reaching a mitten-like hand toward the golden sweets, it only took one bite for the hesitance in her eyes to be replaced by a bright twinkle. 

“It’s tasty isn’t it?” Your lips formed a wider grin.

The Melusine responds with an eager nod, too occupied with bringing more of the buttery treat into her mouth.

At the sight of her restless chewing covering her cheeks with faint crumbs, you let out a giggle.  

“I’ll give you the rest of the sweets if you tell me your name,” you offered. 

After a few moments of the Melusine finishing her previous bite, she falls for the same trap he had many years ago. 

“My name is Carole!” She chirps. 

“What a wonderful name.” Your gaze softened further as you held out the treats, keeping your promise. 

As Carole reaches for more, she glances back up. Wide eyes twinkling as she inquires him with the one thought currently on her mind.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, does the human world have more treats as delicious as these?”

Ah, it looks like the stroll Neuvillette took today to relieve himself of mounting troubles only led him to more. 

The skies over the Court of Fontaine have been in a pensive stalemate, all too familiar clouds blocking azure hues. However, rain has yet to patter on the ground, as if the weather was unsure of itself. 

A feeling shared by the Chief Justice currently sitting at his desk, reviewing the details of the day’s trials. Albeit, half heartily. 

Much like the skies crowded with clouds, in the solitude of his office, his mind rang loud with thoughts. Neuvillette only had himself to blame for the current silence of his office, it’s been this way for around a week going on two now. 

Lilac eyes peered over the tops of the papers toward the shut doors, concealing him away. There hasn’t been a knock on those doors for some time now, due to the diligent Melusines who followed his request.

Turning away potential visitors with crafted excuses of ‘The Chief Justice is handling a very important case’ or ‘My apologies, but the Chief Justice is very busy’. 

Neuvillette recognizes that he’s currently no different than a child hiding away from the consequences of a broken vase. 

How childish, he chides himself as he returns back to his responsibilities. How would the citizens of Fontaine react to their Chief Justice conducting himself in such a manner?

He’s sure if Lady Furina were to catch wind of his behavior, she’d be greatly entertained. 

As if the mere mention of the nation’s archon presented a bad omen, the sturdy doors of his office swung open, revealing the face of a familiar visitor who’s been turned away one too many times. 

“My my, it’s been quite some time since I’ve seen the inside of this office, I almost forgot what it looks like,” you remark as your eyes hone in on him. 

The child’s hiding place under the bed has been exposed. 

“Good afternoon, I was not made aware you had any appointments with me.” Neuvillette’s own eyes trail past yours. 

From behind the door frames the figures of two Melusines quickly dodged away from his sight. A silent admission of guilt on their part, and Neuvillette didn’t have to look hard to deduce the crime they’ve committed: Accepting bribes. 

The evidence was right there in the form of buttery crumbs left on the corner of their mouths. Ah, you and with those conch madeleines of yours. 

It’d be best for him to finally handle the situation at hand, one he’s been trying to maneuver out of. 

“If I recall correctly, you were granted a vacation, why not take this chance to travel? It certainly is a prime opportunity-”

“Why have you been avoiding me, Monsieur?” you cut through the long-winded pleasantries and excuses. 

His lips press together, by now he’s well accustomed to your brazenness. However, the absence of a familiar name only said in your voice made the guilt weigh heavier on his shoulders.

Guilt which originated a few weeks prior. 

—

On a secluded riverbank, a routine walk under clear skies was halted. You were knelt down on the ground, uncaring of the sand sticking to the fabric of your clothes, as you held a Melusine between your arms. Two mittened hands clung to you as she soaked your shoulder with tears. 

“W-why? Why did he have to go?” Her sobs interrupted by sudden hiccups. 

As you rubbed circles into her back, something he saw humans do to soothe their crying young, Neuvillette watched from the side. Much like how he would observe those performances within the Opera Epiclese. 

Liath is her name, a diligent Melusine who patrolled the grounds of the Palais Mermonia. By her side, there would be a guard poodle who’d matched her skips with his prances. An inseparable duo, or it’d be more accurate to say, they were once an inseparable duo. 

Dogs are a species domesticated by humans, some might argue that they were created by humanity through generations of selection. So it stands to reason that they too would have a limited lifespan.

In fact, they have a lifespan even more restricted than that of the mortals who tamed them. 

The Melusines have just begun walking amongst humans, there were still many aspects their sheltered minds have yet to grasp. The fleetingness of mortality is one of them. 

Thus, Neuvillette did his best to caution them. 

However, just like how laws can’t completely stop crimes, his words can’t completely prevent such tragedies. All he could do was try.

“I’m sorry for your grief, this was the very reason why I cautioned you against getting too attached to him… A dog’s life is brief-”

“Monsieur Neuvillette.” 

The sentence died at the tip of his tongue as his eyes met yours. Gaze narrowed and brows furrowed, not even the Chief Justice dared to interject any further.

After you silenced him, your focus returned back to the grieving Melusine. 

Slowly standing back up from the ground, her frame cradled in your arms as her sobs continued. 

“I know it hurts,” you whispered, one hand patting her back, setting a steady rhythm reminding her to breathe. 

“B-but why? W-why is it so sad?” she hiccuped. 

You hummed, beginning to bounce her a bit within your hold. 

“Wouldn’t it be sadder if you never met him?” 

At your question, the Melusine stares at you through teary eyes. Expression lined with confusion. 

“To have loved him, and for him to have loved you in return…isn’t that enough?” You cooed, taking steps away from the riverbank. 

Still frozen in his place, the dragon could only stare at your back as it grew further and further away, soon disappearing from his view. 

He had misspoke.

Neuvillette recalled last Autumn. As the vivid hues of the foliage shriveled up to nothing more than a shadow of their former beauty, you laid your mother to rest. Burying her in a cemetery which overlooked the direction of your homeland.

His unsolicited reprimand must have been throwing salt into a wound that still bled. He had overstepped his authority. 

Murky clouds congregated in the once clear sky. 

—

Those were the events that transpired, events that have led to the current stalemate happening in his office. Lilac eyes couldn’t seem to find the courage to connect with yours. Another excuse finding its way to his tongue. 

“Didn’t you want to visit your homeland?”

“Oh?” Your brow quirks up, as your hands find their way to your hips. 

“And then who’d be here to repair the tears in your robe when you inevitably step on them?” Obviously unimpressed by his suggestion. 

“Surely there are other talented tailors here that can handle the task,” he rebukes. 

“Oh? Will they also untangle your hair from the ornamentation of chairs?” You press on.

“I can manage.”

“Then can the Chief Justice also manage all the uniforms for the Melusines? Can he sew every button and ensure they fit correctly?” 

Ah, with your last statement, Neuvillette concedes. A hush fills the room. 

The Melusines are still new to walking amongst humans, not many were willing to tailor specialized uniforms for their short stature. Thus, you took up the mantle. 

Perhaps out of a sense of responsibility, it was you who stirred their curiosity with those sweets of yours. 

It seems responsibilities tethered you to the Court of Fontaine, much like they did to him. After a few breaths, as always, your voice shatters the stalemate. 

“I’m not upset, Neuvi.”

With those words, his lilac eyes finally connect with yours. Finally able to see the soft curls at the corners of your lips.

It indeed has been a while since he last saw such a sight.

This time instead of replying with an excuse, he responds with a gentle hum. 

“Ugh, why are your curtains so dusty? When was the last time you went outside?” It wasn’t long before your attention returned to the state of his office. 

Strolling past his desk, your hands began to fuss with the thick drapes. Pouting at the dust that coated the lush fabrics.

All Neuvillette could do was follow with his gaze, papers long pushed to the side as for the first time in a while, an azure hue was seen peeking through the clouds. 

From his observations, it’s instinctive for humans to avoid pain. However, it’d be hypocritical of him to judge mortals for actions he’s been guilty of. 

“If I knew I had to work this hard now, I would’ve skipped more chores back at the estate,” you chuckle, pulling back the drapes to allow gold to illuminate his office.

To have loved and have been loved in return.

Was this the human rationale behind taming a dog? Having the reality of the future constantly lurking over each happy moment as the hands of time tick forward.

Why do humans dote on pets? Creatures that only live a fraction of a mortal life? 

Are happy memories a fair exchange for bitter grief, or are they the cure? 

As Neuvillette counts the strands of peeking silver that mingle within your lush locks, he prays he finds the answer soon. 

The clacks of ornate shoes reverberate down once unfamiliar halls, a towering figure lurks past bustling nurses who bow their heads at the sight of the Chief Justice as he passes by.

With a body like his, there is no reason for him to wander among these halls. Or more accurately, there once was no reason. 

The taps of his soles slowed as a familiar door came into view, the only detail which differentiated it from the rest of the hall being the brass numbers displayed. Bringing up a glove-clothed knuckle, delicate taps were placed against the wood.

Almost immediately, a muffled ‘come in’ resounded behind the frame. Granting the Iudex permission to turn the polished knob, allowing him entry as the hinges sang their welcome.

“My, my, if it isn’t Monsieur Neuvillette, to whom do I owe the pleasure?” A grin spreads across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes. 

Instantly his frame stiffens in the midst of returning the door to its frame. Bringing his free hand up to his face, Neuvillette coughs as to compose himself once more.

“Please, forgo the formalities.” 

Though your eyes might not be as sharp as they once were, the delicate dusting of pink along his pointed ears couldn’t escape their sight. Making your eyes crinkle more.

Feeling entertained enough, you cease your teasing and gesture toward the vacant chair beside your bed.

Obediently, his towering figure strides up to the seat, the wood squeaking under his weight as he settles onto it. 

By now, the dragon has grown accustomed the structure of greetings, beginning with a layer of pleasantries. 

“How have you been fairing?” Lavender eyes scrutinize the sheets and pillows, searching for any unapparent flaws. 

“It’s just a mild case of pneumonia,” you muse aloud. 

Momentarily resting his eyes behind a slow blink, all he could do was sigh at your brazen nonchalantness. Yet with a ghost of a smile on the same lips that sighed.

It was a mild case of pneumonia, a common ailment during the frosty months. For someone as steadfast as you, such an illness might’ve surrendered to your stubbornness. 

It might've surrendered… if your body had remained as it once was.

How unfortunate it all is, that time is so cruel to mortal creatures.

Attentive eyes detailing each crease that settled by your lips, remnants of the many grins and laughs that stretched your face. 

The basking light of a selfish star catches in your hair, lush hues that have faded to brilliant ivory. A shade that you often compare to his while jesting, ‘We match now’.

However, Neuvillette begs to differ, the sunlight is much more luminous in your tresses.

Trailing his sights back to your gaze. Deep lines formed by countless dynamic expressions drew attention to the glimmer forever present in your irises. Like paths on a map that led lilac eyes to yours. 

“How are you finding your stay?” At times, Neuvillette found himself wondering how the azure tides appeared from your view. 

“Mm, quite uneventful, eating, staring out a window, sleeping.” 

He hums in response, contemplating if he should inquire you about such subjects. As you ramble, perhaps the dragon could grasp onto an inkling of understanding. 

“Well, at least I can say that my stay has been anything but lonely.” Your eyes motioning toward a corner. 

The bland, sterile wall overshadowed by a mass comprised of trinkets ranging from local flowers to any object whose surface catches light.

The heap grows day by day as each Melusine continues to bring their earnest gratitude to the human who sew each stitch of their coats. A sight that could stir even the most placid lake.

“They’re such sweethearts.” Each one of your words coated with endearment. 

Once more, all the dragon could respond with was a mellow hum. Slow breaths fill the complacent silence between two species, one blessed by time and one shunned by it.

Neuvillette has grown accustomed to the structure of conversations but, alas, he still has no talent for small talk.

In the absence of dialogue, the layer of short pleasantries long dissolving, Neuvillette is left with nothing but his inquiries. It was all he had left, and so it was all he could offer. 

“Are there any regrets you hold?” 

“Oh oh? Getting sentimental so out of the blue, Neuvi?” A familiar quirk graces your brow. 

“It’s nothing of the sort, just a musing that drifted in my mind during a stroll, I wish to know your thoughts on the matter.” 

“Mmm… I don’t feel that I have any regrets, living an honest life and having the fortune to never have stepped foot in the Fortress of Meropide.” 

“Is that really all? You never did get to travel like you dreamed of back at the estate.” 

“Haha, trying to stump me with that, Neuvi?” you chuckle. 

Relaxing more into the pillows which propped up your weary frame, you trail your sights toward the window. 

“Didn’t I tell you already? I’ll have plenty of time to travel once I become a cloud, I can go everywhere the sky can reach.” Smile softening on your lips. 

Neuvillette’s folded hands grasp one another tighter on his lap, his own lips pressing each other into a thin line.

The conversation was teetering closer and closer to the unspoken reality looming like a shadow in the room. 

He wasn’t sure when it started, maybe when the first silver strands appeared in your hair or when you discovered his skin won’t wrinkle along with you.

He wasn’t sure when your adamant belief of becoming a cloud once the shadow came to claim you started. 

Neuvillette wonders if this daydream was the product of those fables you browsed when you laid upon a plush rug.

Or was it your personally crafted fable to explain the incomprehensible to a creature who couldn’t fully grasp it?

A creature whose skin didn’t wrinkle, whose bones didn’t grow brittle. A creature seemingly untouched by time.

Fairytales do serve this purpose for children, magical fantasies to make uncomfortable realities palatable to naive minds. 

“...vi?... Ne…?... Neuvi.” 

A hand marred with age takes hold of one glove-clad hand, and a pleasant heat radiates through the leather. Coaxing Neuvillette’s attention back from its escapade. 

“My apologies, I was lost in thought for a moment.” He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. 

But the frown weighing down on your lips didn’t disappear, much like how retreating into musings couldn’t wash away any shadows.

Your chest moves with a deep inhale. 

“Maybe I do have one regret,” you began. 

Readjusting your ailing fingers in his hold so that he could hold them with equal endearment, his ears concentrate on your voice. 

“Actually, I have many,” you sigh. 

Before he could formulate a response, you continued. 

“I wish I could have shoulder the burdens you carry. I wish you would’ve shared them with me. And I wish I could even understand them, then maybe I could have understood you more.” Turning to face him, your disheartened eyes center on his frame. 

A child born from a maid, a maid who traveled to Fontaine in hopes of a better future for her child. That was your origin, an outsider with neither fame nor fortune.

Thus, even as you followed him from a secluded estate to the grand Palais Mermonia, you could never follow him in status nor influence. 

As unrest grew, as injustices mounted, and as tragedies took away friends.

All you could do was repair tears, sew buttons, and pour him a crisp glass of spring water as you waited for the storm to wash despair away.  

That was how you saw it. But Neuvillette rebukes that notion. 

The dignity of a newly established Chief Justice, who kept stepping on his overly ornate robes, was carefully maintained by you.

The Melusine’s uniforms, which solidified their presence in the human world, were crafted by you.

The patient hand that always offered silent comfort in the suffocating courts was yours. 

Standing by his side, even as your bones grew to ache, to ensure the storm would pass and the sun emerge once more. 

“You’ve done more than enough.” He states the truth, grasping your hand just a bit tighter. 

“Are you sure?” Those airy chuckles of yours made their appearance again. 

“I never even learned your real name,” you interject.

A knife, red hot and fresh from the forge, would have hurt less than the guilt which tore through him at that moment.

The Chief Justice, the symbol of honesty and conviction, is unable to tell the simplest truth.

What shall he do now?

The power of a name is often underestimated, the exchanging of names signifying the forging of a bond. One that would forever tether him to you and you to him.

Oh, what shall he do now? 

Before his hesitant lips could take action, they were halted by a squeeze from your ailing grasp. Firm and warm, like a light that guides him up from the bottom of a turbulent ocean. 

“You don’t have to tell me now, Neuvi, tell me when I come back from my trip.” Those gentle eyes of yours smile at him.

Reeling his hand in closer to you with your own, until the softness of your lips was felt along covered knuckles.

A common practice in Fontaine, one Neuvillette had witnessed time and time again as he passed the lovers who congregated by the Fountain of Leucine. Actions that dedicated promises to one another. 

“I swear, once I’ve traveled enough, once I grow bored of foreign scenery, I’ll fall back down like rain to your side.” You whisper into the kiss.

It was his turn now, and he shall honor this ritual. Tenderly bringing in your hand to him, Neuvillette places his oath.

“Then I swear, when you return, I’ll tell you my name.” He whispers in the kiss.

The sterile rooms echo your airy chuckles as he keeps your hand close to himself for just a bit longer. 

“Mmm… Where I should go first? Maybe I’ll just amble about,” you ponder aloud. 

Gracing him with a smile which stretched your face and brought that familiar glimmer into your eyes.

“I wish you well on your travels.” Neuvillette presses another kiss into your knuckles. 

–

Spring was always the rainy season for Fontaine, with gentle temperate showers to welcome the budding blooms back from their Winter sleep.

However, this year the torrential downpour was anything but gentle. 

Planned trips canceled for the season, clothes remaining damp in baskets, and streets empty of their vigor. Even the Melusines couldn’t bring a skip to their steps.

It was as if time itself was slowed by the burdensome downpour. 

The cawing of crows as their wings beat against the dreary winds adds to the lonely hymn sung by the raindrops.

At once the cadence of the rain increased, the downpour growing heavier, and the violent pattering grew deafening. As if the sky was now belting out their sorrowful ballad. 

The rain could try. The skies can cry all they would like. But time, a cruel and unforgiving mistress, won’t ever stop. 

To have loved and been loved, was it truly enough? 

In Neuvillete’s eyes, he was the tide and you were the shore. The ebb and flow of water as the tide and shore met, time and time again. 

Each crash into the shore stirred up something perplexing and disorderly within the tide, irritating like the sand that mixed into the pristine waves.

So the tide tried to retreat into the lonesome ocean. 

Each time, the shore followed through grains of sand which the tide couldn’t ever seem to purge himself of. 

Each time, the shore beckoned the tide to return to the sandy beaches of humanity filled with perplexities and disorder. 

And each time, the tide surrendered to the call of the shore, lured in by its warmth. 

But now, the shore has eroded away.

Where does the tide go now?

Drifting now in the vastness of a lonesome ocean, carrying nothing but grains of sand. What shall the tide do now?

Neuvillette still has a lot to learn, for he couldn’t answer this riddle conjured by his own mind. 

Unable to stop himself, the lone dragon stares off into the rain.

Eyes honing in the direction of a peaceful hill, one where a mother and child were laid to rest side by side overlooking a homeland they never got to visit.

Maybe that was the first destination of your journey. 

During these past short years spent in this land, the young successor of the dragons has gained traitorous knowledge. One that undermines his preconceived purpose. 

Neuvillette feels he’s grasped onto the faintest inkling of why humans, as fickle, perplexing, and fleeting as they are, were still the most beloved creatures of the gods. 

Perhaps, he even understands now why those usurpers were willing to uproot the earth just for those beloved creatures. 

The wet season transitions into the dry season, then the dry season will transition into another wet season. Again and again, on and on as the hands of a clock ticks forward.

Each new tick signifies another step forward in the march of time.

Each step brings change and each step pulls the present away from the past. 

The rainy season of Spring was no longer as troublesome as it once was, as there was now a machine on the market that could dry clothes without the help of a bright star.

Melusines skip along down the paved paths of the Court of Fontaine as humans turn to greet them with endearing smiles.

New cafes line bustling streets as Clockwork Mekas make their evening patrols. 

A great many changes have come to Fontaine, Neuvillette witnessed them all from his office at the Palais Mermonia.

A great many changes, yet some things are bound to stay the same. For example, the Chief Justice’s fondness for strolls along vacant riverbanks. 

The gentle patters of raindrops lull the chaotic sympathy of trials, paperwork, and duties to a standstill. Reaching a hand out in front of him, Neuvillette catches a few drops in the palm of his gloved hand.

Lilac eyes examine the diminutive puddle in his hand before ultimately releasing the water back to the earth. 

He supposes he’s been feeling a bit nostalgic as of late, like a child recalling a story which once soothed them to a peaceful slumber. How childish it was for him to believe he could somehow catch a certain raindrop in his hands.

Turning up toward the drab sky, he searches through the endless and identical droplets that fall down and leave trails along his face. 

No, not yet. Perhaps they have yet to see all that the sky has to offer. 

Neuvillette returns his focus to the path in front of him. The rhythmic clacks of his shoes match with the soft drumming of the rain, and in the midst of this harmony a voice sings out:

“Hydro dragon… uh… Hydro dragon, don’t cry.”

Halting his stride. Judging by the unfamiliarity of their tongue pronouncing the lullaby, Neuvillette deduces they must be a visitor to Fontaine.

Ah that local legend, just how far has it spread? Nevertheless, an unfortunate traveler who’s unfamiliar with Fontaine’s seasons is now caught in this rain. 

It would only be polite to offer them some assistance as the Iudex of this nation. Thus, he turns in the direction of the call.

His suspicions were confirmed once his gaze landed on a distressed frame, their face obscured by the jacket they held over their head in a makeshift umbrella. 

It only took a few steps for the towering man to make it to their side.

“There is a tree you can take shelter under just ahead,” he advises the lost traveler.  

Now aware of his presence in front of them, they lifted the jacket from their line of sight to peer up at him. Revealing the details of their face to lilac eyes for the first time.

That was all it took for the symphony of rain to come to an end.

Soft drumming decrescendos into tranquility. It seems as if there will be an earlier welcome of flowers.  

“Oh?” You gaze up at the azure hue now peeking out from receding gray, astonishment reflected in the glimmer of your eyes. 

You’ve only heard of a local Fontainian legend from a guide pamphlet offered to tourists as you awaited the Aquabus.

When the rain suddenly began to pour as you ambled about a riverside, in a moment of desperation as you scrambled for shelter under a thin jacket you uttered the phrase.

You weren’t sure if the hydro dragon could understand your botched pronunciation, but it looks like he did.  

 Turning back to face the kind stranger, you wanted to convey your amazement to him. But the words fade just off the tip of your tongue when you peek back at the towering man.

Your eyebrows scrunch together as dumbstruck eyes widen at the sight of the drenched man.

“Mister?… Are you alright?” You scan over him, turning your attention away to sift through your pockets. 

How bewildering it must be for you to witness a well-dressed and noble figure drenched to the bone. However, Neuvillette made no attempt to stop the rivulets rolling down his cheeks, a parting gift from the Spring showers. 

He wonders as his gaze never left your frame, were tears perhaps this warm too?

“Here.” Your concern-ridden hand offers up a neatly folded handkerchief to the drenched man. 

As your eyes connect with his, a strange sensation tickled the back of your mind. As if it was trying to recall where you’ve seen the familiar lavender hue.

Maybe they matched the shade of a flower field you stumbled upon during your travels, or maybe that lilac luster was revealed to you in a dream.

A strange familiarity you couldn’t name. 

“Thank you very much.” He accepts the simple piece of cloth with tenderness rivaling that of conservators handing the renowned paintings of old masters. 

The clouds were long gone by now, perhaps they felt that their purpose had long been fulfilled. The golden rays of a lone star shone with all their brilliance, finally free from behind their blanket of drap clouds. 

It was only now that Neuvillette found out. The rain he had been yearning for all these years did in fact see all that the sky had to offer.

They had grown bored of drifting over vast plains, missing the picturesque countryside of Fontaine. Or perhaps their curiosity grew too great, wishing to finally hear a truth that was kept from them.

So much so, they quietly fell down from the sky, to return to his side again. 

Much like the hands in a clock, the cycle of water and earth follows a similar circular path. 

The rain had eroded away stubborn earth with its diligent drumming over the years.

Bit by bit and piece by piece until stone fractures into bits of sand. Over and over until a sandy beach was formed by the side of a patient sea.

Then the tide will reunite with its long-awaited shore, to return the sand and promise it cradled within its waves for so long. 

~Fin

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[ningvrqx]

heavy snow.

↳ winter x f!reader

if you hadn't moved to busan, minjeong's heart would be incomplete. / the ways in which minjeong shaped you, your worldview and your heart.

warnings. making out at some point, mentions of xenophobia, not proofread 💔🙏🏻

wc. 2.3k

tags. timeskips, first love, separation at one point 💔💔, plot heavy, open ending, loosely based off the movie heavy snow

seoul. october 2016.

you were not ready for the life of fame.

sure, it was promising. the luxury, the thrill of everyone knowing your name. a life able to be lived without the fear of being forgotten.

you had been thrust into the entertainment industry at a young age — you were maybe four-ish when you starred in your first movie. you are 15 now and you still won't be able to live that down.

enough is enough — you decide, packing your bags without another word or protest when your parents announced you would be moving to busan. yangsan is big enough that you won't be the only person in high school that's your age but small enough that you won't be bombarded with news reporters or the tabloids.

you leave school without a word.

the day before, you were chosen to clean the school grounds— once your job was done, you went home. you didn't say goodbye to your teachers, and friends were out of the question.

yangsan girls highschool, yangsan. november 2016.

the air is cold, but not as cold as it would be in seoul. when you entered your new class, your home room teacher asked you to sit next to a student named kim minjeong, black, bobbed hair, snowy skin, and large eyes.

“hey,” the girl greets you in a hushed whisper, voice casual. she recognises you, and it's evident in her eyes, but she treats you like a normal person, offering to give you a tour around the school. you sit next to her in all your classes, bringing snacks to share with you.

minjeong doesn't have too many friends, with only a small group she's truly close with. you hang out on the rooftop together each day, talking to each other about life. hopes, dreams, your future; your past.

“i wanna become an idol,” minjeong states one day at haeundae beach, plainly, looking off into the distance. she turns to face you. “but i don't think i have the looks, unlike you. you're pretty, yn.”

a gust of wind causes you to shiver and your hair to blow wildly into your face. staring at her, you quickly refute her modest description.

“what? of course you have the looks! don't be so humble about it. everyone knows you're pretty, min.”

she giggles at your defensive outburst, turning to the ocean. you don't catch it, but her cheeks are a slight red due to the nickname. but why? everyone else calls her that, too, so whys it different when it's you?

“one day, you'll become a trainee under some well-known company, and the whole world will know who you are.” you tease.

minjeong rolls her eyes. “then i'll remember the child actress who randomly moved to yangsan and showed up in my life.”

“what about you?” she asks.

“huh? oh, i'll think about it.”

a beat passes.

“yn, do you know how to surf?”

songjeong beach, busan. december 2016.

that day, minjeong thought it would be the perfect opportunity to take you to the beach, begging her parents for weeks to let her take a train to busan. it wasn't like she was perfect at it, but she was decent enough to not embarrass herself infront of you.

it was cold, cold enough that the two of you were shivering before you reached the water. not to mention the weather was overcast and gloomy with high winds, rendering the beach much colder than usual.

your toes dig into the wet sand, feeling the sting of the cold water as the waves crashed against the shore. you squeal, clutching minjeong's hand tighter than before, pushing your bodies together as she giggled. the surfboards you had rented drag through the crisp water, attached to your wrists by the string. in a way, this feels intimate. looking into her eyes, you catch a glimpse of how her dark pupils glittered and caught the sunlight.

chest deep in the water, you both mount the boards, sitting on the epoxy material to stay afloat. the waves are calm, without the wind, all you could do was wait until the waves picked up again, shivering like crazy. however, when the waves do pick up, minjeong pays close attention to you, making sure you don't hurt yourself, or in her words, ‘that you don't drown and die and i have to pay for your funeral.’

you squeal again, finally able to stand on the surfboard without falling into the cold, almost freezing ocean and getting the seawater in your nose. your unexpected shout causes minjeong to get distracted, lose balance, and for the first time that day, fall over.

“it's cold!!” she whines, her cropped black hair and bangs sticking to her face.

“not so fun now, is it, winter?” you retort, hanging onto the edge of your surfboard and resting your chin against your crossed arms.

you don't notice, but the nickname causes her face to redden and heat up, making the surrounding water slightly more tolerable.

minjeong quickly composed herself, sticking her tongue out at you before splashing the salty seawater at your face.

“hey! minjeong!”

after hours of what one couldn't even consider as surfing, you grow tired, dragging your surfboards across the sand before you both collapse with a thud, your hair sticking to your skin and your wetsuits moist with the smell of the sea on them. at the same time, you both look at eachother, two pairs of eyes boring into each other's before minjeong sneakily undoes the strap that connected the board to her wrist, climbing on top of you before throwing wet sand at your body, initiating a play fight.

“minjeong! i hate you,” you whine, attempting to peel her off of you, giggling and grinning like an idiot.

the light-hearted banter was over as quickly as it began, with minjeong returning to her spot on the shore beside you, the tan sand littered across her dark head of hair. a beat passes before she speaks up.

“ynie, let's run away together.”

“what?” you turn, staring at the girl as if she had grown a third eye. “run away?”

“i mean, not like that. like, we should go to seoul for a night, without our parents knowing.” she offers. “we'll be back by the morning.”

yangsan. december 21st, 2016.

in all honesty, your parents didn't care whether or not you were out of the house. sure, they'd be worried and concerned about your whereabouts, but if you made an excuse such as staying at a friends house, they'd be alright with it.

your backpack is essentially empty, with only your phone, charger, train ticket, wallet and headphones inside. minjeong is the opposite. one peek inside her bag would make any sane person believe that it belonged to a parent with a young child — the things you had in yours, hand sanitizer, tissues, sunglasses, two hoodies and a raincoat.

when you tease her for it on the train, minjeong swats you on the shoulder; stating; “you're just under-packed.” (“we'lil be there for six hours at best. you're overpacked.”)

seoul, december 21st 2016.

the train ride to seoul was surprisingly peaceful, you both slept the whole time (only you did, minjeong spent the entire ride making sure you slept well). it was dark out now, the winter sun having set hours before. “it's okay,” you reassured her, “we can enjoy the nightlife.” you found yourselves at the han river soon after— the bank was practically empty due to the harsh winter air.

you grin triumphantly. “now it feels like a real, romantic date like in the dramas.” turning to look at minjeong, you sit down on a patch of grass not too far from the river itself. minjeong chuckles, shaking her head before pulling out some snacks you had purchased at the nearest cu.

“minjeong,” call out in a sing-song voice. “feed me a chip.”

you don't need to look over at the other girl's face to tell that she believes your idea is outlandish, swatting you on the back before yelling out with a laugh, “no! feed yourself, you lazy bum!”

after 20 minutes of sitting down and gossiping while eating, minjeong decides she wants to walk around and explore. standing up from where you were perched, you adjust your scarf and coat before extending a hand out for minjeong to take. “follow me! you don't have a choice, jeongie.” unsurprisingly, minjeong slings her backpack over her shoulder, accepting the extended hand and intertwining your fingers together.

about five minutes of walking led you to a random street in seoul, which was surprisingly empty for this time of year. the two of you used that lack of people to your advantage, running through the streets, hand in hand, giggling and shouting to the night without a care in the world. through your vivacious display of your friendship, you come across a poster of you— an advertisement. you smirk to yourself, pulling away from minjeong's grip to pose infront of the photo.

“what do you think? pretty?” you tease.

“mhm, very pretty,” minjeong replies, almost with no hesitation.

a gust of wind sweeps past you, causing you to shiver under your layers. despite this, you acknowledge how intimate this seems, before minjeong brings you out of your daze with a sheepish, “can i...kiss you...?”

you nod, allowing the short-haired girl to bring a short but sweet kiss to your lips, causing you to both giggle.

“again,” it sounds like a question— you cant bear meeting her eyes. minjeong grins, leaning into you, pressing her lips to yours ones again while drawing circles on your skin with her thumb. your lips move against each others in perfect rhythm, and when the need for air becomes too apparent; she pulls away, the corner of her lips tugged into a slight smile. “come on, let's keep walking?” she offers, this time being the one to offer her hand in a display of newfound bravery.

yangsan/seoul. june 2017.

minjeong had been your everything ever since you moved to yangsan, your best friend, your lover, your heart. which is what makes the sudden news that you'll be moving back to seoul even more devastating.

the day they brought it to your attention, you cried into minjeong's arms, your own wrapping around her lithe figure as if you wouldn't be able to go if you refused to let go of the girl. she holds your head in her lap, playing with the soft strands of your hair. “it's not your fault,” she tells you in a hushed whisper in attempt to console you (you don't dare mention that you can hear the hurt in her voice).

minjeong's soft. she's always been— for you— never raising her voice at you on purpose. you two never argued. so you feel at fault for ruining her day. your lips form a frown and you repeat yourself.

“i'm sorry, i'm sorry, minjeong.” you chant it like a prayer, hoping that minjeong forgives you for something that's not in your control.

the bell rings, signalling the end of term.

you left your heart in yangsan that day.

seoul, 2018.

it's spring now. the couples surrounding all the parks serve as mockery to you. you never got over minjeong. you never even tried to get too close to someone else. then it'll feel like betrayal. you couldn't do that to her, not to minjeong.

however, you still find yourself taking minjeong's advice: take your vitamins, don't get sick all the time, and that you should become a trainee. youre only close with a select few of girls within the large group of trainees which sm entertainment was planning to choose a debut lineup from. you're quite popular among the group— you can sing, you're pretty, and well-known already: you need to work on your dancing.

after practice, some days, you go walking around the city— a habit you picked up from minjeong. you're often accompanied by a girl named yizhuo: about your height, chinese, and your roommate. you recognise her as the girl from smrookies. the two of you often rely on each other for support when some people pester you for your reserved nature and some girls refusing to talk to her simply because she's chinese. she assures you it's okay, as she's already sharing a dorm room with you and another trainee.

you believe things are finally working out for you, finally going your way.

that's until monthly evaluations, when a new trainee joins the team. you don't think anything of it until you see who it is.

kim minjeong.

your heart sinks and the feelings you thought you had repressed long ago return like built up water to a floodgate. she's still minjeong, just older, with longer hair and a taller build. yizhuo and jimin sense the tension, tapping on your shoulder and mouthing a ‘you okay?’

you nod, offering a thumbs up before you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, hoping minjeong and her stupid(ly beautiful) round eyes didn't notice your departure. to your dismay, she does, following you out of the practice room after exchanging greetings with the rest of the girls.

minjeong catches and corners you in the bathroom, watching as you washed your face with cold water. “yn,” her face softens as you meet her eyes through the mirror, taking a few steps forward to your figure, drying your face with a paper towel.

the confusion combined with the thrill of evaluations caused you to speak without thinking, blurting out, “whyd you come here to confuse me?”

in a way, it was true. minjeong had come all the way to seoul, attempting every audition that the was eligible for just for the chance to see you again.

fate worked in her favour.

however, minjeong doesn't seem offended by your words. instead, she smiles, cupping your face. “i missed you! don't leave me again, you idiot.”

you pout, attempting to pry her hands off your cheeks. “my face is wet, minjeong. let go.”

“let's go back, i think they're waiting for you.”

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 181

“Hey. Hey Tuck. Tucker. Tuck look. Look.” 

Tucker looked over the edge of the screen lazily, the half interested words on his tongue dying as he let out a wheeze of laughter. “Oh my Ancient Sands, dude, how did you manage that?” 

Danny had, for the last near year, been trying to mix shapeshifting, thank you Amorpho, with duplication. Something he’d apparently succeeded in today, if the massive fuck-you hydra standing before him was any indication. The very pleased looking, well did it count as a hydra if it had wings too? 

“You need to show Sam. Oh my Sands we need to show Val too. And Wes. You did it dude!” He floated up to look at Danny, who did a little twirl to show off. He shook his head, flecks of gold and sand falling from his hair as he laughed. 

“Do you think,” Danny lost it in laughter as several other heads echoed his words, from whichever the main him was. “Holy ancients that’s great- do, do you think we can make a dragon club? Hydras are totally dragons right? Do you think we could pull a Tiamat?” 

He landed on a head, taking a selfie to add to the groupchat labeled Preparations. “Dude, we should, but let me send this to the others first… But I am so down.” 

They can, in fact apparently, pull a Tiamat- with a little help from Princess Dora, practice in front of Frostbite in case something goes wrong, and some advice from Pandora on controlling extra limbs. Honestly, who is going to want to mess with Amity when there’s a giant dragon? And hey, maybe they can break the barrier now! 

The heads for those wondering who I was thinking of for each lol And perhaps what they might all get ((1) Kwan, Pressurized Water) ((2) Wes, Sonic Blast) ((3) Sam, Poison Gas) ((4) Star, Plasma) ((5) Danny, Ice Breath) ((6) Paulina, Acid) ((7) Tucker, Electricity) ((8) Valerie, Fire Breath) ((9) Dash, Pressurized Wind)

[maybankxw]

MOONLIGHT

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings: mature content ahead! [ unprotected sex; fingering; ] minors dni!!!

summary: spending some nice time together on the beach at night, while everyone else is back at the house

word count: 1.1k

a/n: okay hello its me, i know its been a year since i came here last time, but i hope y'all enjoy it! love you tons and miss you too! <3

links: masterlist / taglist / ask box

any feedback (comments, reblogs, anon asks) would be appreciated!

I was sitting outside the chateau listening to the waves splashing as my fingers fiddled with a tiny stick that I dug out of the sand. The skies were navy blue, stars shimmering in the dark pattern, soft cool wind shuttering foliage above my head and ruffling my hair. Behind me the sounds of a party echoed back in the house, followed with the steps that grew louder. My head swivelled back just to see her walking in my direction.

“J?” her tiny frame settled down beside me, her knees levelled the soft sand as she brushed my bare shoulders with her warm fingers, “Are you coming back in?”

My eyes shut close at her presence, her touch, the sweet scent of her perfume and her body pressed close to mine, “Yeah, in a bit.”

“Okay,” her lips, soft, landed on my shoulder feathery kissing my cold skin, veering to my neck as her hands rubbed my arms up and down, “I’ll see you there then.”

I grabbed her wrist as she was about to stand up, “No,” I demanded, pulling her to me, “Stay.”

“Are you alright?” she asked concerned, crawling over to face me, her features lit up by a dim light casted by a garland hung outside.

“Yeah,” a smile tugged on my lips, “Come here,” I stretched my hand out, grasping her by the nape of her neck, colliding my lips with hers. She tasted like vanilla, a faint flavour of alcohol too, “Even better now,” I mumbled in between the kisses smiling against her mouth, helping her straddle me, feeling her smiling too.

My hands explored her body, pulling the dress up, squeezing her thighs, her waist as my kisses reached her jaw and lowered further until I nibbled her neck, listening to the pattern of her breathing change. It grew heavier, her nails dug into my shoulder blades as her head fell back, giving me more space to explore.

“Is that so?” she breathed out, clutching my forearms, biting back tiny moans, “Oh—“

I groaned, feeling my cock twitch as she bucked her hips, my fingers fiddled with her dress, pushing it over her head, “Mhm,” I stopped, my eyes roamed her body, savouring the moment, “I will never get tired of looking at you,” I rasped, searching for her eyes, “Naked or not,” we both heaved, impatient, but taking time to taking each other in, “Always beautiful. The most beautiful girl,” for a quick moment silence followed, “My girl.” 

It came out as a whisper, something snapped in her, she turned so eager, ripping my shirt off and undoing the zipper on my shorts, getting me undressed. That made my whole body tingle. Heat crept up my neck, she was so beckoning, reckless even, we were hidden in the dark, but the thought of someone finding us like that made me smirk.

My hands wrapped around her body and I flipped us over, making her spine meet the tiny blanket I had sprawled on the sand. Fingers hooked in her panties and just in moments she was absolutely naked beneath me, staring right into my eyes, “Oh I need to be inside you, now,” I choked out, getting rid of my own boxers, throwing them in the pile of our clothes, that made her chuckle. “Mmm,” her eyelashes batted, eyes closed, mouth slightly opened as I flexed my hips and sank in her in one persistent push, “J—“ 

My nose dove into her neck as I rocked back and forth, nuzzling her skin, planting open mouthed kisses. The scent of her perfume made me dizzy, I wanted to drown myself in her and never leave. “Fuck, you feel so good,” my eyes met hers again and I kissed her eagerly, pinning her by the throat, swallowing her moans, quickening the pace of my thrusts, “Such a perfect pussy, made for me.”

Her fingers grasped and pulled my hair, her breaths turned rapid as she helplessly clung to me and bit my shoulder to prevent from screaming, “Please don’t stop.” 

The tension was getting unbearable, air hot, our bodies sweaty.

“Come for me, love,” I gasped, holding her wrists above her head, fucking her relentlessly as she pushed her hips up to meet my movements, her nails digging into my ass, making me hiss.

Her moans grew louder, thighs shook uncontrollably, I pressed her clit with my thumb and she let out a final loudest moan, biting my arm in no time. Tears sprung out of her eyes, but I kept on moving, fucking her. through her high and chasing my own.

“J, cum inside of me,” she heaved, unhurriedly coming back to her senses, melting into the sand. Gently, she touched my cheek and I kissed the inside of her palm, holding her gaze as a few droplets of sweat scattered down my forehead and my hair, “Fuck—“

My cock twitched, I felt her walls tighten, I bet she did that on purpose. Cum rushed out, warm and sticky, filling her in, our moans merged into one.

“That was—” she smiled, stroking my chest, my abdomen, brushing my wet hair off my forehead.

“What?” I frowned, concerned, only to make her chuckle again.

“That was perfect. I mean, I didn’t think I’d fuck you tonight at all, you looked so busy back there. Why’d you come here anyways?”

“For you to find me, so I could fuck you senseless,” I grinned, giving her another lustful kiss on the lips, sucking in her upper lip, not wanting to release her from the captivity of my body, “I was hoping you’d find me here,” my mouth explored her body, my tongue found her nipples, hard, and I licked them, one at a time, meanwhile pinching another, making her squirm under me and moan. I fucking loved having her like that, at my mercy, whining for me. I slid lower, giving her stomach a few pecks and two wet drags of my tongue. My head was in between her legs now, I held them apart, licking a stripe up her folds, kissing her clit, fucking teasing her with my tongue, “JJ, please.”

“Yeah?” I sucked her clit in my mouth again, feeling her clenching her thighs around my head, “Tell me.”

“I need you inside.”

“Already?” a smile stretched on my lips, I pushed two of my fingers inside her perfect hole, feeling the warmth, leisurely moving in and out, still working my mouth on her.

She seized my wrist, helping me fuck my fingers in her, faster, rougher, her free hand tugging at my hair, forcing me to groan into her skin. When I felt her clench and shake for the second time, I eased my fingers out, wiping them down her hip, nuzzling her stomach and dropping down next to her afterwards, “You’re my guilty pleasure, you know? Wanna stay like this with you forever.”

[nonbinarylocalcryptid]

Astyanax takes another step towards the reconciliation with Odysseus, long snippet ahead, grab some popcorn

One cannot be raised by Odysseus and not ended up being resourceful. In the following week after finding himself alone in Trojan territory, Astyanax had managed to do a few things.

Using the curtains from the palace, he made a cape and something to cover his face while he scouted the ruins filled of dus. This way he managed to find ink and paper, which he use to let letters in the main doors of what was the city of Troy once before.

With the longest stick he could find, he draw in the wet sand of the beach the map of his travels, one he has always known from memory, and with the memory of Eurylochus' voice, he used the stars to situate Troy in said map.

He didn't build a refuge, the weather allowed him to sleep at the beach, covering himself with the curtains once more. Food wasn't a problem either, after sharpening his stick, it was a matter of patience and stabbing some fishes in the water at the shore.

The little ghost even made a bow, rough and rudimentary, but it served it purpose.

The problem came when he thought about leaving Troy. Building a raft wasn't a plan, it won't survive the distance he wanted to cover, and he didn't know if he could build another later on. Every small boat he had managed to find was rotten, so that was out of the question too.

And of course, he didn't even think once about asking the gods for help, cynic as he was of them. Pity that they didn't think the same.

An owl had been following from afar the whole week. He didn't have any interest in befriending Athena, nor he wanted to be her enemy, but the owl couldn't be blame for being the goddess' puppet, so Astyanax let him half of every fish he captured.

The bird was actually a good listener.

"Shouldn't you be doing anything else? Stalking me can't be that funny, I'm just a boy!"

Sometimes he commented on the situation, puzzled.

"What about helping Odysseus? He's in a lot of shit right now. Calypso has only been nice to me, but that doesn't mean she's nice to him...look, I'm worried about him, ok? All alone in that island with that woman and his luck? Not a good combination."

The owl never answered of course, but in exchange for his kindness, the bird guided him to a box of candles, deep in the palace. The boy brought the opened box to his nose, lowering the cloth that covered his face, and marveled at the delicate smell that came from the candles. He knew exactly what to do with them.

He went to the pile of rotten wood that stood in the main place, as he has been doing every time he needed to light up some fire. The wood that caused once Troy's fall was now keeping him dry and warm, there was something poetic in that, and in a way, Odysseus was taking care of him again, despite the original purpose of the wooden horse.

Astyanax looked for a corner of the place where the wind won't disturb the flame of a candle, and there, he light up one of them and make his offer. A leaf with water, a shiny seashell, a rock with the colour of the Moon, a few drops of blood and a piece of his hair.

Yes, he was a cynic, but he was no atheist. Defying the gods was one thing, but having been raised by a religious man, he would never renounce them.

"I pray to Artemis, Goddess of the Moon and the hunt, carer of children, may her bless this bow and protect me in my deeds. I pray to Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, may her stop me from succumbing to Ares and the nonsense of vengeance. I pray to Hermes, God of Messages and Travelers, may him..."

A laugh interrupted him.

"You know, I'm already here, you may as well ask me in person."

Astyanax stood and turned to look at Hermes.

"I thought someone would show up", he admitted, "but I wasn't expecting you."

"Oh, you know me, I like surprises."

"Do you now." The boy let the candle burning and the box next to it. Their purpose was fulfilled. "What can I do for you, herald of the gods?"

He walked to the beach, Hermes following behind.

"Shouldn't I be asking that question, my friend? Look at you! Leaving messages here and there! Yelling at Zeus to spread your word! I'm curious, whose the recipient? Who should receive your words of defiance?"

"They're not of defiance."

"Then what?"

"Hope. That's my message to every Trojan survivor and to the gods," Astyanax look into the distance, lost in thought, "Troy will rise again, that's my message. But before that..."

He slide downwards through a sandy dune, moving towards the shore.

"...before that I must get Odysseus home, I have nothing without him, no family and no purpose. I can't rebuild Troy in my own and I can't let him alone no longer with Calypso." He stared at his map, calculating distances in his mind. "I must get back to him quickly."

"That's a great plan, what a shame he's no longer at Calypso's anymore."

"Wait what." Astyanax stopped in his track, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

Another laugh came from Hermes.

"I mean what I said, friend! He's at the sea as we talk, and in great danger."

"Of course he is," said the boy as he rolled his eyes, "it wouldn't be him if he wasn't."

He looked at his map again, thinking.

"I'm too far away from Calypso's," he murmured to himself, "I'm closer to Ithaca, unbelievable. No raft would survive the trip but...you are still here."

Always the jokester, Hermes mirrored his calculating face, but he was smiling.

"You still haven't asked me for anything."

"You are going to make me beg?"

"Beg? Who do you think I am? Do I look like Zeus to you? Nah, you want something that I can give, all you have to do is ask."

"No tricks?"

"No tricks."

Astyanax stared at the sea, knowing that beyond the horizon, beyond Ithaca, was his father.

"I want a way to reach him in time, nothing else."

Hermes clapped his hands.

"A thoughtful wish, that's for sure!" He bowed, still smiling. "I came here with something for you, you know? It's good to know that you also want it."

Reaching into his satchel, Hermes took out...

"Wait, really? A pair of your winged sandals?" Astyanax was shocked.

"What? You don't want them?" Hermes laughed.

"I didn't say that! I-I... it's because I know what it means."

With his free hand, Hermes ruffled Astyanax's hair. The boy blushed, fast.

"Aww, he's shy because he is under my protection now!" The god didn't doubt in mocking him. "Come on, put them on! They must be exactly your size."

"Y-yes, of course."

"Hm, they look good. Ok, walk a little, yes, now a little sprint...they suit you! I don't need them back, but use them wisely!"

Astyanax nodded, still red as a tomato.

"And because I'm awesome and those are my sandals after all, not only they are disguised as normal shoes, they also light up if you stomp your foot! Cool, isn't it?"

"Really cool," agreed the kid, "you are so random, I love it."

"Glad to hear that! It's part of my charm, my friend. And last, but not least..." Hermes winked, before handing him two sticks. "Be careful with them, have you ever heard of 'don't play with fire'?"

Astyanax grabbed the sticks, but Hermes didn't let go, still playful, but now serious.

"These sticks, when rubbed together, always make fire, I don't need to warn you about the dangers of fire, do I?"

"I'm aware of the danger."

"Good! Now, for my last little gift... don't you have some kind of rope?"

The boy, surprised, pointed at the curtains he took from the palace the first day he found himself at Troy.

"I didn't find any rope, so I cut some stripes from the curtains and then braided them."

"That's perfect, now, gimme gimme gimme...good, now give me your haaaand...yes yes yes, there, a nice friendship bracelet!"

"Mmm...what for"

"To find that father of yours, of course! You just have to ask."

Astyanax looked at Hermes, then looked at the rough braid that was now around his wrist, long hanging ends and all, and decided it was worth a try.

"Where's Odysseus of Ithaca?"

In a heartbeat, the loose ends starting floating, no, pointing...

"Great! So I just have to follow...and fly there." He said, remembering his new sandals. "The last thing I told him was that I hated him...he must think I abandoned him. Thank you, Hermes, how can I repay you?"

"Repay me? What for? Don't be boring, my friend, that's more than enough."

"Boring? I'm the righteous heir to the Trojan throne, I don't think I can be boring."

"That's the spirit, friend, good luck out there!"

And then a flying pre-teenager with two fire-sticks and a lot of self confidence aids Odysseus against Charybdis

Also, Astyanax in this point of his life:

[neteyamslovrr]

Hii, just wanna say luv your stories. I hope u can do a series if ever. I wanna suggest like aonung x fem reader. Like she is so super kind and pure like the opposite of the typical strong and gangster vibe. Its like she melt aonung heart with her kind words and pure actions, like innocent vibe. Any way, hope u can consider this hehe

Melt For You

summary: you were a pure soul, a kind heart that brought happiness to all of the metkayina, including the tough son ao'nung

1k words, fem!metkayina reader

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

The entire village knew you as kind. A pure hearted girl whose joy filtrated through the entire village. Your smile made others smile. You sparked happiness within everyone’s heart.

Your heart-warming presence had its effect on everyone. Even the harsh son of the chief Tonowari. Ao’nung couldn’t deny that his lips slightly curved seeing your bright smile. Or the way his chest would flutter seeing you walk by and wave.

It made him melt, you made him melt. Like ice cream on a hot day dripping onto the pavement melt. If you and the stars were next to each other you’d be shining brighter. If there was a shooting star in the sky he’d still rather stare into the galaxies in your eyes.

He was laying on a hammock just outside where his family rested. The light breeze rocked him side to side lulling him to sleep. The warm sun shining on him filled his body with warmth. It was a time he felt truly calm.

You came up beside him, slightly bouncing on the tightly pulled fabric that formed a path over the sand. Resting a soft hand on his shoulder to not scare him too much.

“Ao’nung.” Your voice was gentle in his ear, like a perfect song he’d listen to for eternity.

His eyes immediately went to your crouched figure next to him. Your skin shimmered in the sun, and your hair softly blew in the wind. You were like a portrait, framed in the museum of his mind, each stroke of a brush created your beauty.

“Hi Y/N.” His voice was croaky, a tired morning voice, not yet ready to be spoken to the world.

“Would you like to come make some baskets with me?” His heart fluttered when you offered. The thought of you thinking of him made him feel like his heart grew wings and was ready to fly away.

“Of course, I would.” Getting off the comfort of the soft hammock he followed your enthusiastic figure down to near the shore.

You had laid out multiple piles of leaves to be handwoven into intricate baskets to hold anything from tiny trinkets to the produce of a successful hunt. He watched you take a seat on the warm sand and followed suit.

He’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you told him to. Your smile was intoxicating to him, your being was like an addictive substance he would never let go of.

He watched your fingers intricately weave with the leaves with such ease. You made everything just look so graceful, so perfect.

“Ao’nung you’ve barely started, do you need help?” The tenderness of your voice rung in his ears. It would’ve made him shudder, but he had at least a little presence of self-control.

“I don’t weave, I am a hunter Y/N. So yes… I would like some help.” His voice grew small at the end making you chuckle.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

If he were a man before this statement no one would have ever known. Because he now felt like a puddle of mush on the sand to be washed away by the high tide.

He stammered a couple times before being able to get a retort back. “I’d hoped to be handsome.” Batting his eyelids in a joking way to cover the fact that his heart sounded like a drum.

“Fine, you can be handsome then.”

Ao’nung’s brain might have malfunctioned. The cogs of his brain stopped working and his hands froze looking up to you giggling figure. How could you think he was handsome when you were beauty itself.

“I need help with the basket Y/N.” Stern wasn’t exactly what his voice sounded like, but it was what he was going for.

“Oh yes. That’s right.” Grabbing his fingers softly you started to guide his hands in the detailed pattern. You watched him get continuously flustered as he gulped harshly whenever your hands would reposition themselves on his.

He was a mess in your touch. If he were to be a candle you’d be his flame. Flickering in the breeze slowly heating him up and melting him with your warmth.

“Y/N.” His voice was gruff, like he had been holding back his voice for a millennium.

“Are you understanding this pattern? You don’t seem to be listening.” A smile grew on your face as Ao’nung’s eyes tried to avoid anywhere but yours. He couldn’t meet them just yet. Not while his thoughts brewed in his mind that was filled of you.

“Y/N… I can’t focus on the basket. I can’t focus on anything right now.” Desperation echoed through his voice as looked up into your curious eyes. Your head tilted slightly waiting for him to continue explaining.

“I can only focus on you.”

Eyes wide you smiled at him. You weren’t oblivious to his feelings, and you hoped he wasn’t oblivious to yours. I mean who wouldn’t fall in love with the man. He was handsome, strong, funny and only a little daft.

“Then focus on me.” You tilted your head forward to get closer to his face. The proximity making the air between the two thick and filled with tension. Loving tension, tension that had been held back for years.

Ao’nung under his tough exterior and harsh nature was still a soft boy at heart. And you had cracked his shell.

The tension was sharp enough to cut with a knife, but no knife was needed as he softly put his lips to yours. Slowly kissing you, his eyes shut tight as his hands travelled to hold your cheeks.

This was ecstasy to him. Pure bliss. He was in a state of euphoria feeling you touch on him so delicately.

The way your lips melded together perfectly made your heart flutter as you hung your hands around his neck. You heart pounded in your chest and you kissed deeper to try and silence it.

Breaking away his lips were slightly swollen, licking the bottom lip in disbelief that he had kissed you. You had enchanted him completely and he was ready to be bewitched by you till the very end.

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

authors note: hope you enjoyed this! and thankq sm for all the love every like reblog and comment i'm so grateful!

(i love your comments i'm kicking my feet reading them)

[fallen-flier]

the moon will sing (time traveling tim)

so. i saw this super awesome post by @puppetwoman17 about time traveling tim drake and got obsessed, so here's a small ficlet i wrote about it!

part 2

The thing is, Tim expects it. He’s faintly aware of the blood seeping from his stomach, staining his hands red— hands which are uselessly putting pressure on his wound. If he survives this, he doesn’t even want to think of all the weeks of pure agony and fever, brought on by the wonderful lack of his spleen and the fact that healing from wounds sucked, period.

Death isn’t surprising— he really didn’t think he would live past, what, twenty-five? Thirty? To live until beyond 50 with his lifestyle was, well. It sounded painful, anyways. And you would need to be a deeply paranoid neurotic. Like Bruce. Because as much as he respected his father and looked up to him, if Tim turned out anything like Batman, he’d probably find a bullet through his brain sooner or later.

Half because Tim was reckless and his plans were so convoluted and insane that nobody really knew what was going on either, just to confuse his opponent. The other half was, well. You can guess.

So. He’s bleeding out, the night is uncomfortably cold and the wind bites into his skin, sand grating against his back, and all Tim can think about is how much he hopes Ra’s al-Ghul doesn’t show up like a damned wraith and drag him kicking and screaming to the nearest surgery table and take out his kidneys or something. 

Tim’s also thinking about his family. And the probable inconveniences that come with his death. Like arranging his funeral and all his assets and his Nest and the fact that Tim is a very integral part of the family and Dick will probably fall apart and Bruce will mourn and brood, and, and damn it. Tim should probably revoke his thinking process or something.

—

Tim is twenty three years old when he bleeds to death alone, and nobody finds his body until three weeks later when his family has scoured the Earth and his distress signal rings, rings, but nobody sees it. His predictions about his family come true.

But that isn’t quite relevant, because Tim isn’t aware of such a thing. 

Instead, Tim closes his eyes and falls and jerks up on his bed, clutching his chest as years of memories flood his brain, too much for a mere eleven year old. It feels like his head has been cracked open and molten lava had been poured through, scorching his veins and circulation. It feels like agony of the highest level and Tim is faintly aware of the darkness creeping in, his mind too overwhelmed and overstimulated from years of memories flooding into his brain.

And so for the second time in a few minutes and a lifetime, Tim welcomes unconsciousness with open arms.

The next few hours are spent in pure agony, his body being too weak to move and his limbs too short for him to coordinate. He’s pretty sure that there’s a pool of dried blood underneath him from a nosebleed, but he’s too tired to turn around, so he just uncomfortably shifts away from it. Not for the first time, he thanks his lucky stars that his parents are neglectful, because he doesn’t even know how he would explain all of this. 

Two days later, he musters the strength to stumble out of bed, gulp down the bitter, carbon dioxide-filled water next to him and get to the kitchen. It’s April 1st, twelve years ago, Tim is eleven years old, and his family doesn’t know him yet.

Half of the terrible things that have happened to Dick haven’t happened yet. Jason hasn’t died yet. Duke is still a kid and his parents are healthy. Babs hasn’t been put into a wheelchair by the Joker.

Steph is still living with her father. Damian and Cass are being trained as assassins.

Mrs. Mac is due to come in a few hours. Tim looks at the blood-crusted covers of his bed and his crumpled clothes. 

Oh, shoot. 

So instead of researching or training, Tim spends the next hour trying to get the bedsheets off with his tiny, noodle arms, half stumbling on his feet because he’s way too damn short, and making his way to the bathroom so he can take a shower and get some of the blood off so it doesn’t stain too badly. 

It’s probably a lost cause. Not that his parents will notice or care about a missing bedsheet, but it feels wasteful to just throw it away to hide evidence of his unintentional time travel.

Two and a half hours later, Tim stumbles out of the laundry room, his bedsheets and pillow finally in the washer. He collapses on the nearest chair and scans the room for his father’s computer. 

He lets out a shaky breath. His family is generally unscarred. Jason is Robin again. Jason. The boy who Tim had held with a certain degree of, well, disdain. Thinking about it kind of makes him want to punch is past self in the face, or cringe in the way that you can only do when you think of something embarrassing you used to do. Like victim-blaming your older brother for getting beat to death while trying to find his mother. 

It wasn’t the only way he looked at Jason, but he had always thought of him as too reckless. Maybe he really did deserve the beating. Well, not that he believed that young teenagers should be beat up by young adults in Robin cosplay, but at least Tim wasn’t exactly traumatized by the experience. Better him than some other poor civilian kid Bruce could’ve adopted.

And Tim did get his revenge. By getting Jason on his private parts. But whatever. Revenge was revenge, and Tim was better than the whole crime lord setup his older brother had. In practice, anyways. 

Chewing on the ballpoint pen, he writes down the first thing on his list (in code, of course) since coming back in time.

prevent jason’s death 

Well. Now that he had a comprehensive list, Tim was down and ready to plan. 

—

A hour later, Mrs. Mac appears, none the wiser to what happened to him. Tim greets her as she walks in, and she smiles and greets him back, putting lunch in the fridge. She notices nothing wrong about how he stays sitting on the chair in the living room, and Tim says nothing about it. When she leaves, he pulls the piece of paper out of his book and the pen from his hair, scratching down some extra points.

Hmm. Maybe the Court of Owls should go early. Or perhaps that would create too much change?

Dick would have a better time in the future if they were gone, though. Tim frowns, dragging his pen back and forth in a short line on the table. 

He still needed to factor in the fact that he was an unknown to the family. The thing is, Tim loves their dysfunctional, broken family and he knows Bruce and Dick loved him back. But to be honest, it would be easier to change events if he wasn’t being scrutinized by Bruce every day. And it wasn’t like Tim had any shortage of money, with his parents still alive and his family fortune enough to cover whole lifetimes, so he wasn’t worried about his own safety.

It would be nice to go to college too. Maybe Stanford. He was smart enough to make it, and the location was close to the vigiliante community that if he so wanted to, he could probably join and watch his family from the outskirts. Last time around, Tim just couldn’t leave Gotham. Being a vigiliante was his life— he couldn’t even justify it as a temporary thing anymore. Their family had gone through so much tragedy and Gotham was still filled with crime and Tim had an obligation to keep her safe. It just… he couldn’t escape his mantle because he loved it, and Tim had a difficult time letting things go once he loved them. 

But if Tim could change things from the start, he didn’t need to be pulled back into the life. (He couldn’t have it, even if he loved it, because it was never his in the first place.) He could start anew, be a vigiliante when he was in college and far away from the family he hopefully would’ve fixed by then.

Well then. First things first, he needed to remove a factor from Jason’s death so he wouldn’t die in the first place.

—

Mrs. Mac comes by and cooks him lunch, and they eat in silence. Typically, Tim would fill the silence with chattering, glad to have someone to talk to in the empty manor.  But Tim’s mind is whirring, drawing up and discarding plans. By the time Mrs. Mac stands up and tells him she’s going to leave now, Tim has thought of three contingencies and twelve more future events he needs to address.

He mhms when Mrs. Mac prompts him to, and eventually she leaves out the front door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. It’s spring break and Tim doesn’t actually have anything to do because he’s in middle school now, so he mulls over the Jason problem for a few more hours.

It comes to him when he’s microwaving the leftovers from lunch, and Tim is pretty sure he’s a genius, or something. Sheila Haywood worked at a refugee camp in Ethiopia handling medical supplies, but she was embezzling funds from the organization she was working for. It wouldn’t be difficult for Tim to trace it and report her. By the time Jason began tracking her down, she would most likely be in prison, just for a few years and everything would hopefully blow over and the Joker wouldn’t blackmail her because she had no use to him in prison. 

It was cold, perhaps. But her life wouldn’t be over with a few years in prison, and Jason would be alive. Nothing more than they deserved.

Jason, alive. Then Damian, Cass, and Steph. He would see to his family, whole and happy. Then perhaps, in the future, when he was older and safely out of Bruce’s adoption zone, Tim could perhaps work with them. Laugh about how he never expected the Wayne family to be vigilantes, just to throw them off his trail. 

Tim allows himself this one selfish thought, because he has nothing else but the shattered remains of a future that will never come to be, and a family he left behind but still exists.

a/n:

i wrote this in two hours under an inspired haze of time travel and tim, two of my favorite things

tim is a super unreliable narrator if you haven't already noticed lmao

also if i get any characterization wrong feel free to leave some discourse or ping me on the head

but like please be gentle cause y'know constructive crit, not bashing

thanks for reading! :D

[vulpixisananimal]

(You breathe in, and out.)

(You let the pitter pater of rain fade into the background. The rustle of the trees, the wind through the branches, all fading away. All untill, you hear it. An ocean. The steady sound of waves coming in, and out. It sounds like your breathing, or your breathing sounds like the ocean.)

(You're leaning against the Favor Tree. Not the one that shaded your body, no, the one that made it's home in your mind. The sky was lightless and beautiful, with stars dotting the night. Looking down, you could see the beach, the black sand beach with water crashing against the shores, and seagrass sprouting from the dunes. A few paces away from where you stood, was a staircase that lead down to the shore. And to your side was a ladder leading up the tree.)

(Well? You don't have all day. Come out.)

(You knew there where others here, maybe they were just too tired. Maybe if you did something they'd show up to stop you. Loop, maybe. Maybe if-)

(What do you want.)

(Finally. Loop the star, the sponsor, the stagehand. They jumped from the top of the tree to join you at it's base. What a pleasure it is to finally meet you.)

(Don't lie to me, Null, trying to lie in our own head is just insulting!)

(You're right, it's not a pleasure. But it was about time we finally met properly.)

(Loop looked angry and took a step towards you. You stupid little THING. You KNOW you've been avoiding me because of that absolute IDIOCY you put our body through!!)

(You won.)

(BUT AT WHAT COST!!! We had a heart attack! We were bedridden for a week!! Stars, are you an IDIOT?!?)

(You got things done. We got out of Jouvente alive.)

(NO THANKS TO YOU!!!)

(What's going on? A new voice. You look, it was the host themselves finally gracing you with their presence. They were climbing the stairs up to the favor tree.)

(Good to meet you, Siffrin.)

(. . . Null, right? He came towards you and Loop. What's with the yelling.)

(You were trying to get through to this idiot just how DANGEROUS messing with time IS!!)

(You knew what you were doing, Star. You huff. Perhaps if you-)

(PERHAPS WHAT!!! I'll Kill you!! That's what!!)

(Loop, please-)

(Then try it, star. I'll kill you right back. You reach for your knife, you knew it was there.)

(FINE THEN!! You lunge at Null, ready to kill.)

(You try and stop Loop and Null fighting.)

(Loop grabs you, you fight back, stupid star!)

(You feel dizzy.)

(S-stop fighting!)

(I'll kill you! I'll kill you so we don't have to suffer!!)

(You feel your body getting sick.)

(You'll have to try, Star. I'll kill you right back-)

(Stop.)

(You feel a bang on your head.)

(You feel a bang on your head.)

(You watch as Mal Du Pays strikes Null and Loop, getting them to stop.)

(You're both causing us more harm than good. I could feel it from my room.)

(Your head hurts. Stars, it was a migraine. All the fighting in your head was, was just too much.)

(Just breathe, Siffrin, breathe. . .)

(Breathe.)

(Breathe in. . .)

(. . .)

<And out. . ..>

{Do you feel better?}

(Yeah, yeah, better. Still headache, but, better.)

<I am sorry for causing a scene.>

[Causing a scene? You've given us a massive blinding headache!!]

{Stop. Find yourself. Say who you are. Then continue.}

<Okay. . .>

(. . . You're Siffrin, okay. You can see yourself standing at the staircase.)

[You're Loop. You're leaning against the tree glairing at Null.]

{You are Mal Du Pays. You are standing. Making sure they do not fight.}

<You are Null. You are glaring back at Loop.>

{Hmm. That worked.}

<What did you do, shadow?>

{None of you pay attention, do you? It was a grounding technique Odile had taught us you all were stupid enought to ignore.}

[Oh how kind of you, Mal~ To give us this fine, FINE gift!]

(Loop, is there something going on? You walk over to the favor tree and sit at it.)

[Yes! Yes there is!]

<It's me. The Star doesn't like me. We're too alike, naturally.>

[I'll kill you I swear~]

{Stop.}

(You sigh. Listen, Loop, you get it. It's, it's rough. You still remember that night, that heart attack. You really, really don't want to deal with that again.)

[Stardust, respectfully, you are a naive idiot~]

{You agree. You trust too easily.}

(What do you mean! Null's a part of our mind too!!)

{And he's reckless.}

<Again, I got the job done.>

{You did. I commend you. However you put our body in danger beyond what is reasonable.}

<I did better than you, you got hit, didn't you?>

{You are aware of your own faults.}

[Getting along well, it seems~]

(You sigh. Ok, you get it. Maybe Null shouldn't be trusted with full body controll, but they still deserve a chance.)

<And what about Ramos?>

(You look away.)

{Ramos will betray you. Ramos will ruin our life.}

<They are a strong fighter, what makes you think they are now an ally?>

[And you trust them, just like that!?! Really, Stardust, that's just silly~]

(You know.)

(You know, ok! You know you shouldn't trust Ramos!! But what were you supposed to do, not give them a chance?!? Look at what we did!! What we said to our family!!)

<That's different.>

(HOW is that different!! What we did was worse!!! We nearly ended the world and all Ramos did was change a few blinding memories!!)

{We only have so many memories left.}

(Do you think about ANYONE but ourself!?! That's Isabeaus friend! They have regrets!! We should give them a CHANCE!!!)

[. . .]

<. . .>

{. . .}

(What, do you think we shouldn't have been given a chance?)

{. . . No. Where I in your familys position, no.}

<We're stuck like this untill we die, now. That's what we wanted, right? What you wanted?>

[. . .]

(. . . Anything to add, Loop?)

[. . . You got your happy ending. So what.]

(. . .)

[No, I'm not going to tell them. None of us are.]

<Afraid of being rejected?>

[Of course not!]

<Afraid of being accepted, then. Pathetic, hiding behind a star because you fear that which could give you happyness. Maybe you don't want it anyway.>

[SHUT! UP!!!]

(Stooooooop your head already hurts enough. Please.)

{You feel a hand on your bodys shoulder.}

{Quick as lightning you slash with your dagger and bolt into awareness. It's raining, your dagger nips the hand that grabbed you, you look up-}

{Oh. Mirabelle, and. . . Ramos.}

{Mirabelle was holding the gash in her hand. It wasn't deep, and started healing it.} "A-ah- o-ow- I-I'm so sorry I'm sorry I, I was trying to, t-to wake you up and you weren't responding s-so-"

[WHAT DID YOU DO!?!?]

{You was surprised, so you acted accordingly.}

[YOU HURT OUR HOUSEMAIDEN?!? YOU ATTACKED HER?!?]

{Quiet, Ramos was walking up to you both. They looked nervously at you.} "A-are, are you alright? Mira?"

"I-I am, it, i-it just stings a little bit! I-I'm sorry Siffrin."

{You have your bored expression on. You rub a fist on your chest. "Sorry." It's what you were supposed to say.}

"I-It's fine. Uh, M-mal?" {You nod, you notice Ramos shuffle back a little bit.} "O-okay, okay. I'm really really sorry b-but, but something happened!! A-and, and we had to, h-had to make sure you were o-okay and, a-and-"

{You stand up, Mirabelle wouldn't have risked waking you if it was something simple. She's hyperventilating.}

[Do the brething thing with her, that'll help.]

{Ugh, fine. You nudge her to get her attention, she jumps and is about to stutter out something, but you hold up a hand to stop her. And you pat your chest with both hands. "Breathe with me."}

{You breathe in. . .}

[. . . And out.]

[You smile at- oh! Hmm! You were in control now! Well, might as well take advantage of it.] "Feel better, Mirabelle~?"

"Y-yeah, yeah I'm better- o-oh!" [She looks up at you, surprised.]

[You playfully bow.] "Lovely Loop at your service~"

[She giggles at that.] "I-is, is it that easy to switch? Between you all?"

"Oh not at all!" [You say jokily.] "I suppose the breathing did the trick though. Now, how can I help you today, Housemaiden~"

"R-right." [She had her serious face on.] "T-there's, there's a serious situation! I-it's Isabeau, he, h-he-." [She looks over at Ramos.]

[Ramos must have realized what she wanted them to say, and looked away from you.] ". . . . It's mind craft, again. Isabeaus being effected by it."

[luvnami]

shinazugawa sanemi is NOT the love interest of my dream office romcom! - chapter 5 (let me)

an | been struggling to continue this series, i’ll do my best to see it to completion, though >< more notes at the end, find the masterlist here cw/wc | emotionally unavailable!sanemi, dead dad mention, mdni (18+), 1.9k+

It’s hard to forget you’re on a work trip when Shinazugawa is extremely anal. Moreso about ticking off every item on your project checklist, and less so about actual sodomy. It starts with him insisting you take a million photos of Kaiji Beach, one of the few places in the world where star-shaped sand exists. Okay, maybe not a million, more like a hundred, but it’s enough for you to get annoyed because all Shinazugawa does is stand to the side and bark orders at you. 

“The lighting changes depending on the angle of the photo, so make sure you get it all,” he yaps. 

Does he think you’re some kind of professional photographer? You only learned how to angle your phone for the perfect mirror selfie just last year so that you can avoid that cringe 45 degree Millennial phone tilt. You’re busy trying not to overheat under the Okinawa sun (although it’s autumn and the weather isn’t that unbearable, you would rather not be standing in the middle of an open beach) as Shinazugawa has his hands on his hips, the wind tousling his fluffy hair. 

You wonder what would happen if you shove Shinazugawa into the sea. He’d flail his arms and fall face-first, getting his white linen shirt soaked through to the skin. You hope he knows how to swim in knee-deep water – you’d hate having to deal with a court case of first degree manslaughter, à la perverted desire to see his chest and abs sticking to the wet shirt like some sort of cologne advertisement. 

Once he’s decided you’ve taken enough photos of the beach, Shinazugawa insists you squeeze onto a water buffalo cart with some overly eager foreigners. The water buffalos were originally used in Okinawa for farming and transporting goods, but now it’s more of a tourist attraction.

If you had a choice, you’d be perfectly content observing the cart from the sidelines, but you prefer keeping your head on your neck, so you oblige. While Shinazugawa gets seasick, you’re easily carsick. It takes all of you to not barf on the lap of the stranger sitting opposite you in the cramped vehicle. Each bump the cart rolls over makes everyone sway side to side like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. 

Your shoulders bump into Shinazugawa’s and you sit with your back hunched to make the contact seem less on purpose, more accidental. It makes you think about your knees touching earlier on the flight, giving you something else to focus on besides the fact that you haven’t eaten since you touched down, and that your empty stomach isn’t helping your carsickness. You really don’t want to vomit in front of Shinazugawa. You spend each second counting the next one that passes, fingers curled into tight fists. 

You’re so queasy that you don’t notice Shinazugawa’s ears turning comically pink. He’s so close that he can smell your perfume and it’s making him heady in the best way possible. He squeezes his eyes shut, grounding himself as he thinks about the most unsexy thing he possibly can to stop the blood from rushing to the extremes of his body. Somehow he starts thinking of his dead father. He sobers up real fast after that. 

You barely have time to collect yourself once you stumble off the water buffalo cart, because Shinazugawa trudges ahead to Kondoi Beach, a few minutes walk away. You follow after him like a newborn deer, knees knocking together. You curse and shake your fist at Shinazugawa’s broad back. Oh, if only he wasn’t built like a Greek god. It’d make hating him so much easier. 

You hope Shinazugawa trips over a rock and eats shit. 

He wonders what brand of the perfume you’re wearing, and how to casually bring it up in a conversation. 

Kondoi Beach is the only swimmable spot on Taketomi Island. Shinazugawa’s sins are forgiven as you gape at the light blue waters that stretch as far as the eye can see. It’s beautiful – an endless mirror that reflects the blue of the sky. You start snapping photos before Shinazugawa starts badgering you all over again. The water is so clear that you can see the fine, white sand that makes up the shoreline, and you’re eager to dip your feet in. A pleasant breeze cools your skin. 

You kick off your shoes and step into the water, curling your toes into the damp sand. The cold water rolls over your feet and licks at your ankles, then shies away back into the sea. There aren’t as many people as there were on the Kaiji Beach. You and Shinazugawa are practically the only people in the vicinity, with a family playing in the sand a distance away. 

“It’d be nice to swim here.” Shinazugawa suddenly appears behind you. 

You jolt, nearly dropping your phone in the water. Jeez. Jumpscare, much.

“Well, you could. I’m not stopping you.” You shrug. “You might as well take the chance since we’re here.”

Shinazugawa waddles into the water next to you. He’s thrown off his shoes somewhere near yours, and watches as the water crashes over his feet. Excited giggles of the family ring through the air. 

“I would, but I forgot to bring a towel.”

He seems forlorn and you feel a twinge of pity.

“You brought your swimsuit, but not a towel?”

Shinazugawa nods silently like a child being reprimanded. He even goes as far to dig around in his tote bag and pull out his swim shorts. They’re plain and black, doing nothing much for your wild imagination. You put a hand over your mouth to stop the laugh that nearly escapes you. The almighty Shinazugawa Sanemi forgot to bring a towel to the beach, is sad about it, and is showing you his boring swim shorts. It’s so silly that you’re at a complete loss for words. Shinazugawa busies himself with folding the short back into a compact square.

“Should we take a break here? We’ve visited the more important spots today, we can finish up the rest tomorrow,” you suggest. 

Shinazugawa agrees. The last place that you need to photograph would be the sunset on Nishi Pier, but there’s still another hour till then. You step out of the water and dump your bag on the sand. 

“Do you want to sit down? You can use my shorts so that you don’t get sand on yourself.” Shinazugawa offers you his swim shorts again. The pure innocence on his face makes you feel bad if you don’t accept his humble offering, so you thank him and spread his shorts out so that you can sit on the sand. What the actual fuck? You watch Shinazugawa venture back into the water, rolling his pants up so that he can wade in a little further. The sand starts to crust around your feet and ankles. 

It’s an odd gesture, but a thoughtful one, you suppose. You don’t know what other situation would have Shinazugawa offering you his shorts. You’re a little puzzled. Maybe the Okinawa air’s good for irritable people. He’s much more appeasable than in the office, and had only snapped at you once today – all because you lost your footing while running in the sand on Kaiji Beach, although it was out of concern more than anything else.

You use a hand to shade your eyes and stare at the invisible horizon across the sea. Strange. You don’t hate it (the ocean or Shinazugawa? You don’t want to answer).

Shinazugawa splashes around in the water for a little longer till he gets bored. He collapses on the sand next to you and lets his feet dry off, wrinkling his nose at the sand that sticks uncomfortably to his skin. You have your legs stretched out in front of you. Shinazugawa keeps his eyes focused on a single grain of sand that rests on his right shin, gathering what little restraint he has left to not indulge in imprinting the image of your bare legs in his mind. 

There was one post you blogged about that made Shinazugawa embarrassingly hard (yes, hard. Forgive a man for having manly desires). It was some sort of oral scene, and the protagonist had their legs wrapped around their partner’s head. He thought about your thighs caging his ears, the heat of your cunt on his tongue, and gripping your hips till they bruised. That is exactly why Shinazugawa cannot look at your legs for the life of him, because he’ll end up dreaming about that exact position all over again. 

“It’s really nice here, huh?” he croaks out. 

You glance at him. You can’t figure out why Shinazugawa is staring at the sand like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, but you’re not brave enough to ask, either. 

“Yeah. It is.”

After a while more of awkward silence, you shake the sand off your legs and return the swim shorts to their rightful owner. The both of you spend the rest of the time cycling around the island till the sun starts to sink below the sky and you arrive at Nishi Pier, famous for its beautiful sunset view. The island is far quieter in the evening with most of the day-trippers gone. 

You trot across the pier, coming to a stop where seawater laps at the edge. The sun’s almost disappeared and you’ve taken enough photos to get a memory space warning on your phone. The last of the warm, orange light makes the glassy water look like an expanse of molten gold, and you let the sound of the crashing waves overwhelm you for a few seconds. 

Your mind empties. You don’t think about work, about writing, about anything at all. It’s tranquil – even if just for that quarter of a minute. The peace barely lingers before you start worrying about the rat race you’ll return to on Monday, the crowded trains and bright city lights, the office full of printers churning out copies and colleagues begging their clients in that high-pitched customer service voice. 

It’s inevitable. Maybe things could be different in another life. You’d live in a castle full of riches and jewels, be a demon-fighting hunter in the Taisho era, or have thousands of fans fawning after you on social media. Instead, you’re a carbon copy of every other working adult in Tokyo, slaving away in a cubicle that feels like a jail cell and living in a one-bedroom apartment that you can’t exactly call home. 

Monday. You’ll ride the packed train, write your stuffy report about Okinawa, eat the same sandwich from the convenience store, get scolded by Shinazugawa, then rinse and repeat the whole cycle again the next day. 

There’s no escaping it. Not now, at least, while your savings account barely has anything in it and your insurance policies are less than a decade in motion. You’ll live a life of dirty dishes in the sink, a laundry basket that piles high a day after it's empty, and dust that gathers on your shelves no matter how many times you clean it. Days bleed into weeks and seasons end before you realise. Repetition’s supposed to be comforting, not mundane, though you suppose there’s a fine line between those two definitions. 

You open your eyes. The sun has fully set and the island is dark, save for the house lights that glow from curtained windows. 

Maybe one day you’ll have a life where time feels like it’s worth passing. 

You turn back to Shinazugawa, who's waiting for you at the end of the pier. He watches you walk back to him and he tightens his grip on his phone, a single picture of you engulfed by the setting sun locked away in his gallery. 

He wears an unreadable expression. 

“Dinner?”

The wind tickles your cheeks. 

“Yeah, dinner.”

Shinazugawa gives you a small smile and you forget to breathe.

an | inspiration for this chapter was taken from this video, you can see all the locations mentioned in the okinawa arc :) the swim short situation was inspired by a friend’s first date, where the date wanted to swim at the beach nearby but he forgot to bring a towel. he also offered his swim trunks to my friend to sit on so she wouldn’t get her pants dirty. some men are insane, but also funny i guess.

[rainswept]

# THE MOON IS BEAUTIFUL, ISN’T IT?

— lyney, freminet, navia : 272, 213, 206 words respectively. these don’t really make much sense tbh.

# LYNEY : love. bouts of flattery overflowing from a mouth full of bleeding gums, bouquets of rainbow roses neatly tied together in a pretty silk bow; words slipped like cards between fingers past his teeth that are pleasing to the ear but do naught to soothe the ache beneath the skin. stiff movement, perfected performance, smile lines on a face that has seen nothing but tragedy; swooning, blushing, grinning; bright spotlights, pried open eyes blind to it all. cries for an encore are like a bandage over a profusely bleeding wound that just won’t stop, won’t quiet down. gods, he’s so tired of encores.

but he is not tired of performing. the desire to still swells beneath his skin like the blood that sustains him — it always has. but it is beginning to feel like a cut forcing that deep-seated thing to the surface instead of passion, forming a wound instead of flushed cheeks, painful and slow and agonizing as it bleeds him dry. but at least now it is familiar.

dreams that leave him in a haze, warmth settling in the pit of his belly instead of knives, bread as a peace offering, hands held tight in the face of peril, soft breaths entwined without a single kiss and gentle touches to gnawing wounds. moving away from a fireplace when it gets too hot only to return moments later when you forget the feeling of being singed; a garden overgrown with rainbow roses to the point where they almost look as if they began growing wild, unbridled and free and passionate and imperfect.

which is love to him? he doesn’t quite know.

# FREMINET : tears. he thinks his tears threaten to overflow the rushing sea, bleed into the waves until he dies in a water that cannot drown him. marks that linger as memories fade, reflections on the surface of the sun; the deteriorating seashells picked up from the shaking sand at the bottom of the ocean, forever moved by the presence of another. soft touches and fleeting wishes, dry lips with sobs seeping between the cracks like water, begging for a reprieve from the loneliness that strives to swallow him whole unlike like the sea he loves so dearly — a threat versus a plea, a soft embrace instead of a bruising hold. he doesn’t know which is which.

shaky hands held beneath a star-filled sky, glistening teardrops so plentiful they mimic the galaxies and the sea alike. currents swelling beneath fingertips and seeping beneath skin as he sinks until he can no longer see. screaming, yelling, silence, cries and wails of anything but sorrow, knives to throats and blood spilling beneath a red moon to taint shallows that were never pristine in the first place. tender flesh, calloused fingers, sharp nails digging so deep into each other you could nearly get cut. you pray to the archons that the indents in your unwounded skin scar.

# NAVIA : comfort. a warm dessert melting on the tongue, meringues, saccharine and soft; a hazy memory doused in vanilla and egg whites. beds of flowers whistling in the wind, head leaned against the base of a tree, soft strands of golden hair twirled between fingers and tangling in the grass; forehead kisses, sunsets, lighthearted giggles turned to laughs so plentiful they make your chest ache.

navia wraps her fingers around yours like she never wants to let you go — it’s tender, loving, sweet, and oh so far away. the look in her eyes is distant, clouded, guilty; she gazes at the floor, the ceiling, the corner of your mouth. anywhere she can find and grasp onto but your eyes, or your lips, or your heart, or your soul — her eyes are like the moon over the water, you always told her, and the moon’s view of anything you truly want it to see has been hidden away by a fog rolling in on the horizon.

a doomed ship sails straight into the fog blanketing the sky like it wants to protect the moon to a fault. as you hold her hand tight, aware you’re watching it, there’s an innate sense it will not come back.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Can I suggest 4 and 47 with Howzer? Idk if you write for him but he’s a sweetheart I know. The last week everything has gone wrong….

Ohhhh sweetheart. You have no idea what you did to me. Let me tell you when I sat down and began writing... oh! It all came pouring out nearly 2000 words later, and I have a fic for you. I really hope you love it. I did.

Love oo,

The Lullaby

Warning: Death, loss (various kinds), angst, comfort, kissing, tears.

Italics - flashback

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Howzer looked at the beautiful paradise island he and the Bad Batch escaped to. Pabu. To think there was such a beautiful place in this horrible galaxy. Every time he thought he found something it had been ripped away from him. He couldn’t help but wonder if this would be any different.

He glanced down to the bracelet you weaved on his wrist. The only thing he had left of you. His fingers trailed over it again and again. He lost you on Ryloth when he stood up to the Empire. There were days when just remembering your smiling face, the way you’d call his name when you laid beside him, your soft kisses and caresses were the only thing that kept him going. 

Especially when he started to lose his squad. When his men started to be taken from him too, he clung to the image of you all the more. He stood on the precipice that overlooked the island, it was majestic, a spot you would’ve loved to come to, to let the wind and sea take away your disquieting thoughts. He closed his eyes and breathed in the salty sea air. If you were there, beside him, he could see himself getting used to this. He could get used to a life full of peace and quiet … but you weren’t here. 

His eyes focused back down at the intricately woven bracelet you gave him, smiling as he remembered that day.

“Howzer show me your wrist” you smiled at him acting all cute and coy, your smile reaching all the way to your eyes.

“Why? What are you going to do to it?” He narrowed his eyes as he fought back a chuckle.

“Don’t be difficult and just show me your wrist.” You demanded with that smile never failing while you looked at him. It was his smile, one you reserved only for him as you stated over and over again.

“Fine, but if you do anything weird, I’m going to give you the worst tickle attack ever.” He warned as he placed a kiss on your cheek.

“What weird, just hold it out” he did begrudgingly, giving you his wrist. He laughed when you pulled his wrist closer to you and turned your back so he couldn’t see what you were doing. It was a few seconds later, when you turned around smiling, “There. See. Not weird.”

He looked down at the threaded bracelet, it was the colour of his armour, the colour of your eyes, and the dark red colour of the sands of Ryloth. “It’s … it’s beautiful.”

“It’s you, me and Ryloth. The planet that brought us together,” you smiled leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips, “as long as you wear it, I’ll always be with you.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as he wrapped his arms around you, “Thank you. I love it, and you.” He pressed another kiss to your lips, “Thanks, cyar’ika, for making today a little less depressing.”

“Were you having a rough day?” You wrapped your arms around him tighter. 

“I was, but now that you’re here, and I have you…” he waved his wrist, “I’m better. You always chase the dark thoughts away.”

“I’ll make sure to always be here to chase the dark thoughts away.”

Howzer looked at his bracelet as a tear slid down his cheek, “… but you’re not here to chase the dark thoughts away.” He spoke out loud to the images of you in his mind.

Things since Ryloth had been difficult for you, you’d suffered a serious injury. In fact, you weren’t even sure how you made it off Ryloth and found yourself travelling with Phee. It took you a while to learn how to speak again, and even to remember the name Phee had generously given you. But she was patient with you, taking you with her each and every time. Repeating what needed to be repeated as often and as slowly as possible. Protecting you, when you needed to be protected. 

Even when you met the Bad Batch, she took her time introducing you to them. When had first met them they seemed somewhat familiar but it wasn’t quite right. They’re faces weren’t quite right, and you didn’t understand why.

You shrugged it off, not really worrying about it. Wrecker had been especially attentive towards you, even though you kept a friendly distance from him. Not that you found him unpleasant or unattractive, but your heart felt … occupied. It was a feeling that ... somehow you knew you were waiting for someone. Who that was, only the Force would know. 

As months dragged by, and bits of your old memory came back, you had found yourself being pulled time and time again to the colour, teal blue, it struck a chord with you. Deep inside, it reminded you of something. Every time you saw it, you had to have it. Blankets, scarves, sweaters, even underwear. It was a colour that made you feel comforted, that it was somehow a part of you. 

You heard from Phee more clones had joined the island, looking for a safe haven. You learned a few weeks after the Bad Batch arrived what clones were and why so many of them had the same face. Well at least a variation of the same face. You brushed off Phee’s comment, going on your usual walk when you hadn’t had a good night’s sleep, you wrapped the teal blue shawl around you, revelling in its comfort and safety. Not that it was particularly cold that day, but it had been a bad day for you, so you needed that extra warmth. 

The images and nightmares from the past week were overwhelming. The doctor had mentioned, it was all part of the healing process, as memories of your past continued to seep into your present, it could be overwhelming. Yet, as more images became clear, the more you didn’t want to remember. Not if it meant seeing people die, feeling a fear in your heart that you had lost someone. Someone dear. 

You feared for the day you saw the image of losing the one that had somehow captured your heart, you didn’t want to remember seeing that person being taken from you. However, that might be. 

You shook your head, climbing to the highest point of the island, it was the only way to calm your mind as you looked out over the whole island. Your footsteps faltered as you saw another person in your spot. You heard him talking to himself, you knew the sound of sorrow and pain, you heard it enough in your dreams. You shifted wanting to give this man privacy, only for your foot to hit a rock alerting him to your presence. 

Howzer turned quickly, as years of combat trained him, he wiped the tears from his face, and looked at you. His eyes welled up with tears once again, his jaw dropped open as the blood rushed from his face. 

“Cyar’ika?”

“I’m sorry?” You offered, not understanding the word that came out of his mouth. “I’m sorry for disturbing you. I didn’t realize anyone was here.” You tried to placate the man who looked like he’d seen a ghost. 

“It can’t be… cyare, is that … really you?” He stepped forward, wondering if you were an apparition, the way your hair billowed in the wind, the way you clung to the shawl wrapped around your shoulders, the same colour as his armour. You couldn’t be real. There was no way you could be real. He saw you … he saw you sprawled on the floor of Ryloth’s red sand, he saw the blood seeping out of your head. He remembered hearing the blaster shot and seeing you drop… it wasn’t possible. 

“I … I don’t know who you think I am… but that’s not me … I’m not siare,” you tried your best to copy the pronunciation and failing, “or whatever.”

“No. It is you…” he stepped forward smiling. “Don’t you remember me?” The look on your face hadn’t moved; it was one of confusion and loss. 

“I’m sorry, I …”

“Howzer. My name. I’m Captain Howzer. We … we worked together on Ryloth.” He walked closer, not wanting to scare you, taking small steps like he would with a terrified animal. Your mouth opened and closed a number of times as you tried to answer. He tried to rack his brain on something that would help jog your memory, he held up his wrist and showed the bracelet, “This. Do you remember this? You made this for me. I told you that ‘you made my day a little less depressing’.” He pleaded doing his best to try to hold back, he wanted to shake you, to wake you up, to hold you in his arms. He thought he’d lost you and … yet, you were here. You were alive.

“I … I made that?” You looked at the intricately woven bracelet. “Okay,” you huffed out a laugh, “now I know you’re lying. I’m not that talented.”

“Oh but you are cyare, you’re talented, beautiful, intelligent, brave, caring. You’re so much … you’re everything. You have to know there’s no one I could love like I love you. I …” he held back from saying more as he watched your eyes widen at his declaration, “Sorry. I’m sorry. I know this is overwhelming, but … you … we. We were something special.” He swallowed softly.

You shook your head and turned away, “I’m sorry for your loss but you’re mistaken…”

“The colour!”

He cut you off, not wanting you to leave, he needed you to stay.

“What?” You turned back to him. 

“The colour of your shawl, the colour of your bag, the wrap around your wrist, that teal blue colour. It means more to you than you can understand, right? You look at that colour and you feel at home, at peace. Complete.”

“How…” You narrowed your eyes at him, “How could you know that?”

“Because you told me, that’s … the colour of my armour ...” He looked down at the one he was wearing, “not this one, obviously. But the one I had back on Ryloth. The one you helped me maintain and paint. You always said this colour, the teal blue, was home for you because it reminded you of me.”

He took a step forward as a tear slid down your cheek, he took it as a sign that he was getting through. “You would have nightmares at times, and the only thing that ever calmed you down was when I held you in my arms, and sang to you. I would sing the lullaby your mother used to sing to you as a child. You taught me that on our first date…”

You shook your head, “I don’t…” your voice trailed off as Howzer started singing, his voice soft and strong, reaching into your soul. A familiarity and a comfort settling deep within you as you listened to him sing. Each word, each syllable brought back another memory. You saw the image of the two of you laughing, joking as you laid in bed. Him tickling you as you teased him. The way he held you close, when you lost another good soldier. Each note carried another memory, another reminder of the past you had lost. 

Tears streamed down your face, as Howzer kept moving closer, his voice never failing as he gently reached his hand to cup your cheek and tenderly wiping the tears away. A gesture he’d done a million times before, he slowly and softly wrapped his arms around you as he kept singing. Your own arms wrapping around him, as you held him close. You closed your eyes and let the tears come.

“Howzer …” you said his name, not one with doubt, but with recognition. With remembering. With longing. 

He tightened his arms around you, and kissed your temple, “Yes, cyar’ika. I’m here. I found you.” You both stood on the highest peak of Pabu, holding each other as your past finally found you again.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

[ladyshrike]

Giving Into The Love

Kenji Sato X Best Friend

A story I'm working on over on AO3, thought I'd share it here too.

(Word Count: 1351)

Chapter 1:

One | Two | Three | Four |

Hold on.

It's the only thing she can tell herself as she tries her hardest to tighten her grip on the support beam…or rusted pipe or whatever she was hanging off of. Her ears are ringing. Her hands burn with the effort to hold herself there. Her body feels sore, her head is still spinning and her vision is blurred with the settling debris and smoke of the fire below. Her lungs burn as she looks around, panic setting in.

Hold on.

She feels her hold slip in the slightest and she is quick to tighten it again, a sharp gasp leaving her lips.Any other noise dies off before she can make it. Distantly, and muffled to her ears, she hears what sounds like helicopters hovering nearby, the breeze is harsh but too warm to discern whether they are close by or not. There’s screaming from below and for the slightest moment, she wonders why of all days she thought it would be a great idea to just walk around her apartment wearing Kenji's jersey, a spare he had given her when he played for the Dodgers. And her underwear. Nothing else, save a sports bra below the jersey.

Gods…hold on.

Maybe, she thought Ultraman would spot her, would help her before she fell to her death. Maybe, a rescue copter would appear with someone repelling down to get her to safety. Maybe…it would be fast-

She re-tightens her hold, breath heavy and uneven, eyes burning with tears from the smoke and from the idea that this is how she would spend her last moments, if these were her last moments. Not knowing if Kenji was safe. Not knowing if she would be saved. Not knowing if…perhaps the last time he’ll see her is at a funeral, possibly uneven able to do that. Would she still look enough like herself-

“H…he…” The word dies off in her throat, a sob ripping free from her lips. “H…Help!”

She wasn’t sure if over all the noise, all the commotion, anyone heard her. She wouldn’t fault them if they didn’t. Too noisy. Too much to do. Too many to save on time. She was sure of one thing, she wouldn’t fault anyone for not being able to save her.

“Help!”

That one is a little louder, her voice a little more winded as she struggles to breathe. She makes the mistake of looking down for the briefest moment, seeing people peppered below, barricades already up and emergency services surrounding the area, spread thin by the collateral destruction of the battle. Her heart drops because, my gods…if she slipped, all those people would…

There’s a strong gust, a light clears the way towards her and for the briefest moment, she swears she sees her parents in the faces of the rescue crew. She swears they are there, the world around her muffling further. A pass of the helicopter blade, and its panicked gazes, growing higher and…oh…

She blinks, the wind is rushing around her over the sounds of screams below. The pipe she had been holding onto is growing tiny, eventually hidden by the smoke that blows around it. She closes her eyes, expects everything to just go dark around her. She expects…she doesn’t know what she expects, really. Maybe nothing at all, maybe to just…cease?

But instead, she feels the cool rush of air in her face. She feels the soft spray of an ocean breeze. She feels…still warm sand along her exposed skin.

Opening her eyes, she finds herself looking up at the night sky, clearer than the one she had been keeping her eyes trained on the moment she caught…whatever she had been holding onto. The stars are out in full effect, the moon bright and low in the sky, a perfect crescent. Waves crash to her right, and she’s almost scared to look that way. Was this…a memory in the last moments of brain activity? A way for her brain to cope with dying? A way to keep her calm as her heart slows and her lungs collapse?

She hesitantly turns, and to her surprise…the coast is just…there. A familiar one. A memory invades her mind then.

“Kenji! Don’t be mean!” Warryn pouts, her sand castle laying destroyed by a rather massive water balloon.

“Not being mean! I told you I was playing with water balloons in this spot!” He argues.

“Easy there, you two. Why don’t you two go play together instead. That way you’re both happy?” His mother tries to appease both, sitting beneath an umbrella as she watches them play on the hot summer day.

“No! He ruined my castle! How will Princess Ultraman become queen now?” Warryn huffs, plopping down on the warm wet sand, holding the poseable action figure she had put a Barbie dress on. She’s quiet, sniffling and genuinely just wanting to go home at this point. She’s only four, two years younger than Kenji, and rightfully so, still childish. Until, that is, she hears a splash near her. She thinks, for a moment, that Kenji is still being mean. That he’s tried throwing a water balloon at her and missed, but when she looks up, ready to unleash a torrent of tantrum-y exasperation, she stops. Her eyes are a little wider, what she’d thought he was doing not meeting the reality of what he was doing.

He sits ahead of her, on the other side of the wet sand, sitting atop his legs as he pushes wet sand into the castle shaped mold bucket. He flips it, concentration creasing his slightly sweaty brow. He removes it slowly, a bit clumsily really, and gives an awkward laugh when the splotchy wet sand castle crumbles slightly despite his effort to be careful.

“It’s not perfect…but I think Princess Ultraman can fix it…don’t you?”

Warryn blinks slowly, still numb. She was…on the beach they visited every summer. A full half hour from her apartment near the stadium…and close by.

She isn’t sure how she manages, but she’s standing, arms and legs covered in dry sand that slowly but surely blows off of her skin with the soft breeze. Beneath that sand is soot, scrapes that she is sure burn with the sand on her, and bruises that are beginning to mottle her skin in hues of blues, purples and yellows. But it's not what's on her mind, it's the familiar figure that has caused her so much grief standing yards away. Small, barely 40 inches in height. Soft yellow sundress and straw hat atop her head, shielding the soft black locks that she had curled for her the day they left LA. She starts to walk away and she follows, not even sure if she’s breathing, or if this was the hallucinating effects of hypoxia playing tricks on her mind.

But she follows.

Her steps are staggered, she likely looks like a crazy person on the streets, but she can’t find a way to care. Image be damned.

The figure looks back, a soft giggle echoes in her ears before she takes off, Warryn following close after, but never getting any closer. Even when she comes upon a familiar street. When the child stops just before a driveway she knows all too well. The figure never gets close enough to discern other features, just a smile.

“Hoshi…”

Her eyes burn and she blinks. When she opens her eyes again, she’s alone in the driveway. Heart beating wildly. Her eyes fall on the door. She wasn’t well. She could feel it. Something was wrong, something was…different. And if she were met with silence upon knocking…then she would rest assured the security system would call for help, as it had when she had passed out from dehydration months back at the beginning of his move here. She knocks twice. It’s all she finds herself able to do.

What happens after, she isn’t sure. She swears she see’s Kenji. Or maybe it's still hypoxia playing tricks on her, she could have the wrong house after all, but just the thought of it possibly being him…it eases her mind.

[ilys00ga]

𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙙, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧

(PROLOGUE) → FIRST CHAPTER

: ̗̀➛ synopsis: you're in the wind, I'm in the water.. somebody's son, somebody's daughter..

OR: Sirens and humans were made to be at war with one another. To sear their deadly bond, not with love, not with wealth, not with rules and restrictions... but with flowing blood and torn flesh. That's what history says. That's what's bound to be.

: ̗̀➛ pair: yoongi x f reader/oc.

: ̗̀➛ tags: mute human!yoongi, half siren half human!reader, reader is obsessed (almost yandere-ish (we'll see as the story progresses)), forbidden love and relationships, middle ages/old times era theme, supernatural, slow burn, strangers to lovers (?), fluff, angst, bloody or dark themes. more tags could be added eventually.

: ̗̀➛ note: hi :) finally decided to post this! first off, I know first-person povs are somewhat "controversial" in the fanfic community, BUT please give this one a read, and I hope you will have a fun ride! second, I know this prologue is longer than it should be (?) but I had a certain idea in mind, so, who cares if it was long af, right? enjoy! I hope u like it.

★ MASTERLIST.

PART ONE:

It was in the middle of a bright, warm spring day that I found the moon reading on a boat.

That day, I took the risk and sneaked Aftreen—my well-trusted and loyal maid—up to my favorite spot.

The first whispers of the fresh air brushed against our skins, and I smiled at the lovely memories it brought along with it.

And oh, how I missed those precious, precious old days.

We hid behind a large, isolated sea stack perched somewhere close to the coast line, but still far enough from the danger that a small distance could bring to the two of us.

“This is as far as we can go. Hurry up, Afreen.” I warned and watched as Afreen was comfortable in climbing the huge rock, eager to get a better view of the island awaiting beyond it.

“Woah, Your highness…” She gasped, a smile stretching her mouth. “Is that it, you highness? your village?”

I hummed in response, my mind elsewhere. She was marveling at the sight of the golden sand and the life of the village sitting at the edge of the island, while my eyes were stuck on the sight of him.

He with his arms crossed to his chest and his eyes fixed on what seemed to be a book he had on his lap, floating on a boat behind the huge rock. His hair dark and grown, its tips brushing against his broad shoulders as it danced with the gentle wind.

Calm, graceful, pale. I blinked. He glowed under the basking sunlight. So lost in his book that he didn't pay attention to anything else around himself—much less being in the presence of a siren princess and her siren maid propped on a huge rock not so far away from where he sat.

I always loved watching the moon, and I always envied the lucky stars to be in the presence of such a creation crowning the night sky. I wasn’t aware that the heavens were kind enough to put one wandering the earth for me to find.

“Afreen, get down.” I ordered, my voice hushed and stern.

Her lower lip jutted out in a slight pout, but she wordlessly obeyed and jumped off of her spot at the top of the stack and into the water daintily.

The dive made an audible splash echo through the air around us. I swiftly hid myself behind the rock right as the human's head jerked up, a soft gasp slipped me unconsciously.

Afreen didn't emerge again. I took the chance to peek over the stack and steal another glimpse of the stranger.

He wasn't reading anymore. He moved to handle the sail of his boat instead. The thought of him leaving spread a sour feeling in my chest.

The siren inside of me growled, urging me to swim to that boat myself, but I fought against it. I knew better than that. I wasn't supposed to be out there in the first place.

Yet, I could feel it. And I couldn't blame her on it. He looked so inviting to her. She was eager to see how his skin would look underwater, if I were to yank and take him deep, deep into the ocean with me. How he would feel against my skin if I were to trace his features with my thumb and caress his hair with my palms. How his face would twist if I were to card my fingers into his dark locks and pull them hard, or if I were to hold on his jaw in a tight grip and watch him writhe before me, searching to reach the surface and breathe some air into his weak, human lungs before his soul is put to rest between my arms. How my piercing fangs would feel if I were to—

I felt a persistent tug at my tail. Then, it was Afreen who popped up from underneath the water beside me.

“Your highness, what's taking you so long?” She asked.

I quickly brushed her curiosity off with a shake of my head, then led her deep into the saltwater again.

Every time I met the other moon after that, I'd talk to her about him. About how he looked more entrancing than any human I have ever laid my eyes on. About how he was more delicate and beautiful than she could ever, ever be.

About how I wish I could see him again, even for one, only and last time..

PART TWO:

A dark night sky, a tilted crescent and a pitch black ocean. Darkness cradled the four boats as they glided their way across the ocean, but their lanterns guided them towards their destination.

On each boat were three ruthless and tired sailors. Their journey almost reached its end as they approached Dogon Island.

A small boy that looked to be in his twelfth or thirteenth summer accompanied his father—after much begging pouts and determined promises—on this particular one.

While the adults were lounging on their vessels, the kid was leaning over the gunwale, watching his own reflection in the water with an intense gaze. His eyes soon perched up when he noticed a faint ripple in the image. He turned his head to glance at his father, only to find him sipping on rum, completely unaware. He darted his eyes towards the other two sailors still lounging on the other side of the boat, just as unaware as the previous one, then back to his own reflection again.

Some moments passed like that. The waves calm and steady, the wind gentle and crisp. Until all four boats started rocking from side to side in gentle motions. As if the ocean was soothing them onto the unpreventable.

The father put his rum down, a faint smile adorning his face for a brief moment, before it melted into a neutral frown as he stood up tall.

Everyone was up on their feet. Everyone looked around, alert. All except for the kid, who's hands were still holding onto the gunwale before him.

The rocking halted. A pair of hands gripped the wood right in front of the young boy. Then, it was a dark pair of eyes that locked with his youthful ones.

A soft gasp slipped his mouth at the angelic creature that came face to face with him, her wet skin bathed in the lantern lights.

He waited for her to move, like his father had told him she would, but she didn't. She just ogled back at him, her eyes carrying a baggage his young brain was unable to recognize.

More sirens rose and clung around the four boats. Each more breathtaking than the ones before.

Their lips parted as they hummed their songs to the men above the water, beckoning them closer and closer, right into their embraces.

The father held his son's shoulders and led him to the center of the vessel, his eyes not once leaving the siren at their boat. Then, he slowly approached her, bringing one knee down in front of her in complete devotion.

Without hesitation, her arms stretched out to cup the man's face in her hands. Closer and closer, she leaned her upper body forward, their noses almost nuzzled together. A wicked, yet faint smile appeared on her face when she felt the sailor's arms wrapping around her in response, pulling her towards the male.

Her deadly song was cut off with a loud, piercing shriek that erupted from her throat instead. The sailor pushed his dagger deeper and deeper into her writhing back.

Several shrieks and shouts erupted all over the area within an instant. The boats quivered violently. The small boy screamed and stumbled to the bottom of the vessel, trying desperately to hold onto something and not fall right into the freezing, salty water.

Hungry humans stabbed sharp tools into inhuman flesh. Angry sirens fought back in desperation after their feast attempt had come to be a dooming failure. And as history said and told, hundreds and millions of times all across the stars, siren blood had, once again, covered the wood and flowed into the ocean.

Victorious grins split the sailors’ faces as they pulled the small pieces of beeswax out of their ears. The father raised his rum flask in the air, keeping a firm grip on his son's shoulder as he stood next to him, and bellowed to the open ocean: “To the kingdom!”

The other men seared the victory in loud and proud roars, with blood dripping from their lethal knives as they rose them to the air, and lifeless sirens gathered on each of the four boats.

[linkspooky]

Yu Gi Oh GX and Alchemy: Citrinitas and the Splendor Solis

Yu-Gi-Oh GX, an anime that exists to sell you Trading Cards is a also a piece of media with some of the most well-researched, and layered symbols and references to the Great Work in Alchemy. The show is built around it's alchemical symbolism, each of the four seasons representing a step is the Great Work of turning lead into gold.

Season is Nigredo or 'blackening', Season 2 is Albedo or 'whitening', Season 3 is Cintrinatis or 'yellowing' and Season 4 is 'reddening,' where Judai achieves wholeness of the self, and completely his journey of growing from a child to an adult.

Season 3 is the yellowing, symbolized by the color yellow, the element of earth, and where Judai completes his final chemical wedding with his opposite and his soul Yubel.

The entirety of GX s a metaphor for the Great Work, with season 3 focusing on the yellow stage. The group that surrounds Judai represents each of the 4 stages of alchemy.

Manjoume, (Nigredo Black, and Fire)

Asuka (Albedo, White, and Water),

Misawa (Citrinatis, Yellow, and Earth)

Judai (Rubedo, Red, the Philosopher's stone, and Air).

Season 3 depicts the drowning of the king, only for him to be reborn again. The king in this situation being Judai who drowns and rises up as the Supreme King associated with yellow, is defeated and dethroned, only to embrace the Supreme King's power and integrate it into himself.

All of Season 3 is a necessary dissolution of Judai, in order for him to be reforged into a stronger person, the way metal is purified through the process of alchemy. Judai even states in embracing Yubel at the end of the season that even if his previous self was destroyed he's fine with that because it's a part of growing up.

The entire season is themed around solve et coagula (dissolve and coagulate, rinse away the impurities to refine yourself into a better version of yourself / reforge the stone). Letting things dissolve away is needed in order to become purified, the same way that death alway proceeds a rebirth. We will call back to these ideas time and time again over the course of this meta. This symbolism starts in the very first episode of the season 106, where Judai experiences a dream premonition of the future.

In this dream Judai wakes up in a desert dimension, the same dimension, Yubel will later teleport the academy to. He sees his friends all turned to sand, only for the wind to scatter them on the breeze.

Not only is this a reference to Dissolve et Coagula, but Judai's friends will also literally dissolve later when they are used as sacrifice materials for Super Polymerization, only to coagulate at the end of the season. This scene also takes place in a desert, and earth is the element associated with citrinitas.

The Exchange Students

This episode also features the introduction of the four transfer students, particularly Johan. Each transfer student is associated with an element and a phase in the four step process of Alchemy.

Austin O'Brien, uses a fire deck, associated with nigredo

Amon Garam, uses a water deck, associated with Albedo

Jim Crocodile Cook, uses an earth deck, associated with Citrinatis

What about Johan, you ask?

So far we've been talking about Alchemy as a four step process, but sometimes there is a fifth step called Peacock's tail (The Prismatic Phase).

The peacock tail is a physical stage in alchemy, a brilliant flash of green which comes to signify that the alchemist is one the right path. It can also be recognized in spiritual/psychological alchemy as a flash of visions that come to the adept as they move through the phases of transformation.

The Splendor Solaris painting of Venus / The Peacock is associated with love (the domain the goddess venus presides over), spirit, spiritualism, and inspiriation. II often compare it to the star Major Aracana in Tarot, which is a card of renewed hope and faith and a flash of temporary insight.

What better step fits Johan who not only plays a deck based around seven monsters, which represent the seven colors of light that make up the prismatic rainbow, but also is a character who is capable of seeing duel spirits like Judai.

The most important part of the prismatic phase though is that it's temporary, it's a flash of insight. Johan most notably, after appearing and burning so bright he captures all of Judai's attention disappears halfway through the season.

The search for the yet to be discovered Rainbow Dragon is also what drives both Judai and Johan the first half of Season 3, especially when it becomes their only way to get home. While the search for Johan himself, is what drives Judai in the second half. Johan really is the star in the distance who's light Judai is following.

Judai's first duel against Austin is meant to invoke Nigredo, the boiling away of impurities. Austn uses a fire themed deck, and over the course of the duel Judai helps "purify them" to the point where they remember they're not supposed to blindly follow orders. Austin invokes the fire symbolism by quite literally saying his father was a man who blazed with passion.

I'd forgotten what my father taught me. My father wasn't jsut a dog who fought as he was told. He was a warrior who burned with passion. And he...Judai made me remember that.

Judai's purifying of Austin's soul also starts his character arc here, as he quickly grows from more than just Professor Cobra's willing collaborator.

Kenzan and Jim's duel is a reference to the step of Citrinitas. Kenzan and Jim both duel with earth centered decks, Kenzan's deck revolves around resurrecting dinosaurs, and Jim's deck digs fossils out of the earth. Jim's deck even revolves around fusing summoning monsters in the graveyards, which is a reference to his career as digging fossils deep out of the ground. Kenzan also wears yellow, and when his dinosaur DNA gets out of control his eyes turn yellow. The two of them have their duel on a dry patch of dirt in the middle of the forest.

Cintriatis is referred to as the drawning of the "solar light" inherent in one's being, and that reflective "lunar or soul light" was no longer necessary [source]. What this essentially means is that the subconscious becomes conscious, or we become aware of what we usually keep hidden about ourselves.

Jim's duel against Kenzan references this because the purpose of the duel itself is to wake up Kenzan from a primal, animalistic, subconscious state activated because his Dinosaur DNA went out of control. Jim is basically attempting to show Kenzan the light by calming him down with a duel, something he'll do much later with Judai. A duel between them is a duel betwee instinct and higher reasoning.

The last duel of the exchange students is Manjoume vs Amon. It's a duel that reveals so much and yet so little about Amon's character.

The second stage of alchemy is called albedo, a latinicized term of "whiteness." It's a purification thatfollows after the nigredo stages where all impurities are washed away. It's associated with water.

Amon invokes this stage in several ways. He plays a cloudian deck, clouds are associated with water. Albedo is associated with water because it features the "washing away" of impurities. They duel each other over a a pool of water, in a duel where the loser will be dropped into water below. Manjoume even refers to himself as the lightning going through Amon's clouds, there's only lightning when it rains.

Manjoume: I'm not a spoiled rich dude, casually gazing up at clouds like you were. Manjoume: If you're a white cloud, then I'll be the black thunder.

Albedo is also a stage associated with purification / purity, and the entire duel Amon is remarked upon as being pure / being unreadable like the white clouds themselves.

Manjoume: I'm beating him. It's obvious that I'm cornering him, but... Manjoume: ...What's with this cavelier attitude of his? It's almost like he's like a cloud. Manjoume: I haven't seen him dueling yet. What could he be hiding in those clouds?

Manjoume is also a character associated with Nigredo as he's wearing black, and plays a dragon deck, and the duel ends with him falling in the water.

The exchange student duels end, as the duel academy kids begin hunting down professor Cobra. There's a few moments of interesting elemental symbolism in these duels.

Judai is forced to duel his professor while Asuka, a character who also wears white and is therefore associated with Albedo is about to drown in a chamber slowly flooding with water.

This also doubles ad Jungian symbolism because this is Judai's first confrontation with his jungian shadow the repressed part of his personality. His professor derides him for lacking darkness of the heart. These words speak of Judai's flaws that have previously remained hidden, his selfishness, his unhealthy habit of taking on other's burdens because he lacks a purpose of his own.

Satou: You can't win. I have something that you lack? Judai: Something that I lack? Satou: The darkness of the heart lying deep within a duelist. Judai: Darkness of the heart? Satou: It is what a duelist burdens his heart with. Judai-kun, you lack anything of the sort. Judai: Something I'd burden my heart with? Satou: Thus far, there hasn't been a single duel which I've dueled for myself. ALthough, because you only think only of yourself, I suppose you couldn't possibly understand. Judai: But where's the fun in dueling like that? Satou: There's nothing fun about it! Being burdened with the expectations of others, yet continuing to stay strong. THat's what it was like.

His entire deck strategy revolves around taking control Judai's monsters and turning them against him. His ace monster is also known as "scab knight", a warrior covered in scars from fighting whil enduring the burden of everyone's expectations. Judai will come to resemble this card later on in the season.

I'll make a brief mention of Giese because this is the moment where Johan's role as the peacock feather come into play. Judai asks if Johan has a goal for dueling other than fun, and Johan shares his.

Johan: Those spirits gave me dueling a purpose! A purpose to become a bridge between spirits and humans... Judai: To become a bridge between spirits and humans?

A goal which Judai clearly admires him for. The prismatic phase shows insight, and Johan gives Judai something to aspire to be like because he admires him for having a goal - and for his relationship with spirits. However, it's only a temporary insight because rather than thinking about his own goal it's moments like these, and shortly afterwards in the Cobra duel where Johan tells Judai that he duels while carrying the burdens of others that Judai simply decides to glue himself onto Johan.

Rather than come up with his own answers, Judai just accepts the answers that Johan gives him. Rather than using Johan as support and inspiration, Johan becomes an unstable emotional crutch.

There's one final reference to the Spector Solaris plates in the vial in which Yubel has been baking in the entire arc as they absorb duel energy in order to reconstitute themselves. Yubel at this stage is a reference to the 12th plate, Saturn Dragon and Child.

The plate depicts a child and a dragon sealed together in a flask. Within the child's right hand is a black flask they are forcing down the throat of the dragon, in the left hand are a pair of bellows which he is holding against the dragon's arc. The child is pouring the black Prima Materia in the dragon's mouth, while he increases the heat of flame. This will result in the decomposition of the Prima Materia into a substance that can be reconfigured and rebuilt.

Yubel represents both the child and the dragon. They are a dragon, specifically a child who underwent surgery in order to become a dragon. Just like the child forces their right hand down the dragons throat, Yubel possesses people by grafting their arm onto them.

Yubel also specifically appears as a child, Cobra's missing son, in order to manipulate him. Then feasts on the darkness of his heart and induces him to commit suicide by covering Cobra's entire hand with their fiend arm, and feeding them a false memory of a scenario where their son actually survived. They then transport the entiretyof the school to a desert, more earth symbolism and where the series begins referencing the seven parables.

Splendor Solis

The Splender Solis are an alchemical text from around the 1500s. They are a series of 22 elaborate images, which symbolize the alchemical processes.

They are divided into 4 groups. 4 introductory plates which depict the typical archetypal characters appearing in an alchemical story. The 7 parables which describe the process of death and rebirth of the king. The 7 flask plates which show the making of the elixir. Then the 4 final plates which shows the spiritual refinement.

The main arc of Season 3 revolves around the death and rebirth of the king, and from now on this meta will exclusively focus on Judai's process of becoming the awakened Supreme King.

As mentioned above he entire school is transported into a desert world. One of the first major events in this new world is the appearance of a Wise Man.

Carl Jung interpreted the process of alchemy as an analogy for psychoanalysis. Each stage of alchemy to him also represented an archetypal schema of the human mind. Nigredo is the shadow, Abledow the anima and animus (feminine and masculine), citrinatis i the wise old man (or woman) archetype, and rubedo is the self that has achieved wholeness.

It's the appearance of Misawa who physically resembles a wise old man, complete with a cloak, long hair and a walking stick that helps clue the protagonist where they are, and how to escape.

I also must make mention of Yubel, who begins enacting their plan to turn Judai into a king. Their first plan involves transporting the academy away to a different dimmension, and slowly taking over from inside by converting the duelists into mindless zombies.

Yubel: Attention, lost duelists. I am the rule of this new world. Yubel: I am the one controlling these zombies as the King of the Martin Empire. Yubel: You are the ones opposing my empire, and doing it well I see...

We don't know exactly what Yubel's first plan was, before they switched to their backup of super-polymerization - but considering Yubel's unique logic they likely planned on converting everyone in the school to zombies, while reforming their body. At which point it would be them and Judai alone together, and they would offer Judai the position as king, which Yubel thinks Judai would be grateful for.

Either way it's Yubel who pushes Judai through the journey of dying and being reborn as king. Yubel goes through a parallel death and rebirth (dissolved) , as they were torn to pieces and enact their plan to reconsitute their body back together and revive (coagulate). Either way Yubel's actions start Judai's journey.

The 7 steps of this journey / 7 parables are:

Plate 5 - Miners excavating a hill

Plate 6 - Philosophers beside a tree

Plate 7 - The drowning king

Plate 8 - Resurrection out of the swamp

Plate 9 - Hermaphrodite with an egg

Plate 10 - Severing the head of the king

Plate 11 - The bath

We'll be going mostly in order with these, as Yu-Gi-Oh GX also references them in order. Here's another post covering similiar spector solis symolism from RWBY which I'm lovingly ripping off. Beginning with:

Plate 5- Miners Excavating a Hill

The search for Rainbow Dragon has been a focus of Johan's arc since his introduction, but when the main characters learn that Rainbow Dragon is their way out of the dark dimension than excavating Rainbow Dragon out of the earth becomes the main focus of Judai and Johan's shared journey.

The plate depicts a mountain mined by two figures, dressed in gold and silver. The contrasting colors represent the dualism of the sun and the moon, which is also shown shining bright in the sky while the moon floats along in the river below.

Rainbow Dragon is quite literally mined out of the side of a hill. The two figures could be referencing both, Samejima and Pegasus who are sent out to retrieve it, Johan and Judai who summon it in their partner duel against Yubel.

The number seven also occurs here. There are seven splender solis plates, seven planets, seven alchemical symbols, seven metals, and Rainbow Dragon is a monster that requires the sacrifice of seven gemstones, which also represent the seven colors of light that make up the rainbow.

Featured on the plate is a picture of a scene from the book of Esthter from the Old Testament. This is a reference to the King Ahasuerus and Eshter. THe king is convinced by his grand vizier to kill the jews, starting with executing chief minister Mordecai. This is in spite of the facthe'd already married Mordecai's jewish cousin, Esther.

Eshther appears and touches the king's golden scepter with her hand. This convinces the king not to kill the jews.

“So it was, when the king saw Queen Esther standing in the court, that she found favor in his sight, and the king held out to Esther the golden scepter that was in his hand. Then Esther went near and touched the top of the scepter. And the king said to her, ‘What do you wish Queen Esther? It shall be given to you – up to half the kingdom!’” (The Holy Bible, New King James Edition, Esther 5.3)

It's a union of opposites (gold and silver, king and queen, sun and moon) based upon communication and empathy. Gx references this story in two ways.

When Samejima and Pegasus are trying to excavate Rainbow Dragon from the mountain, Echo appears and threatens to kill everyone inside in order to allow Amon to remain in a world where he can become king. In a way it's gender flopped because Echo is playing the role of king, threatening everyone at Duel Academy.

The second way is a reference to Judai and Yubel's entire arc of learning to understand people with empathy. Yubel threatens to massacre both Judai's friends, and the twelve dimmensions at large in their painfully wounded state from Judai's abandonment.

This is gender flipped like it is with Echo, where the queen (Yubel) is threatening violence, and the king (Judai) is the one who sways them with empathy. They're linked to queen and king roles, Judai serving as the supreme king linked to the sun, Yubel their feminine bi-gender counterpart and shadow linked to the moon, Judai eventually does so through a union of souls during their final duel, which resembles s a jewish wedding.

Plate 6- The Philosophical Tree

The plate shows three philsophers underneath a tree. The third is a youth, climbing a ladder and handing them down a golden branch.

The two philosophers underneath a tree is a reference to the Aeinid, in order to enter the world Aeneas requires a golden branch from a special tree.

A journey to the underworld is as on the nose for a symbolic journey of death and rebirth as it gets. Judai technically journeys to the underworld twice, the first time when Yubel sends the whole school there, and the second when he like Dante or Orpheus journeys into the underworld to retrieve his lost one - Johan.

The desert world that Judai is transported too is literally filled with zombies, or the wandering dead like in classical depictions of the greek Hades.

Whereas in the world Judai travels to find Johan, losing a duel results in a permanent death for the duelist forcing every character to confront their own mortality.

During that Journey, Judai specifically experiences a death of his ego and a rebirth as the supreme king, before dying a second time and being reborn as the fusion of Judai / Yubel.

The three philosopher's under the tree is specifically referenced when Judai and Johan have their tag team with Yubel, they are the three under the tree. During that duel Johan uses gem tree, a tree that grows a fruit after certain conditions - it grows three fruits in total like the three phases of alchemy.

The duel is fought to return everyone from the dark dimension, a figurative underworld. Whereas in the Aeinid the tree is what grants them free passage into the underworld.

The golden branch and yellow flowers in the splendor solis painting also represent the yellow / citrinitas stage, where light is shed on the unconscious. By the end of the duel, not only is Yubel fully reborn after being torn apart, but they also force Judai to recall the repressed memory of them buried in their subconscious. Yubel's colored yellow when begging Judai to remember them.

Plate 7- The Drowning King

Judai's second journey to the underworld begins after this duel, and this time it's fraught with death. Albeit a necessary death for Judai to be reborn as a whole person.

“The Destruction of one thing is the birth of another.” – Aristotle

The painting depicts an old king drowning in the background, while a new king dressed in yellow emerges in the foreground. While the king is begging to the saved, both the old and new king are actually the same person, being reborn again.

GX references the drowning king in several ways, firstly the entire Supreme King Haou arc is a plan by Yubel to break Judai down and reforge him as the Supreme King.

Not only does Judai experience an ego death first where their mind breaks down and they choose to become the Supreme King going forward and rule with power after the loss of their friends. Judai is also the reincarnation of the original supreme king, which is why Yubel is obsessed with them in this lifetime. Which means he's already died once as king and been reincarnated into a second lifetime.

The king drowning in the river is also a reference to the Nigredo stage of alchemy:

Within the stages of physical alchemy there is a set referred to as the drowning king; this is the dissolution step of the Nigredo process. This is when the alchemists would take their chemically calcified ashes and dissolve them into water. The water itself would absorb the ashes, the word we use to describe this solution, an elixir, comes from the Arabic: Al-iksir translates to “from the ashes”. Elixir.

In order to forge the elixir you have to dissolve away all impurities. Yubel prepares a ritual to literally dissolve Judai's friends away, in order to forge Super Polymerization (which will eventually help Judai and Yubel fuse and become the philosopher's stone).

For now though, the ritual requires five sacrifices, and five of Judai's friend. Just like the five steps of alchemy if you count the peacock stage (the monster Judai fights in his duel is even named Reign-Beaux, a pun on Rainbow).

Manjoume, Asuka, Fubuki, and Kenzan all dissolve while Sho escapes leaving the ritual incomplete. It's after the ritual however, that Judai experiences an ego death and is reforged as the yellow king. Ego death, is the Jungian term which means a "Complete Loss of subjective self-identity." In this case symbolically the Judai identity "dies" as he loses his purpose which was previously dueling for the sake of his friends, and he finds a new purpose in dueling for power alone. A power that will simultaneously bring order to the chaotic world of the dark dimension, but also protect himself from his own insecurities and weaknesses.

Nigredo is also meant to be the dissolving of the ego. While many cultures have negative associations tied to the color black (Islam being an exception, where white is considered an impure colour), there are no such connotations for the alchemist about the Nigrido stage; it is merely the first stage in the Great Work, the dissolving of the self/ego complex. It is probably a fair observation that in cultures without spiritual safe-guards, or even safe-guardians (shamans, priestesses, lamas, et. al.), the spontaneous occurrence of Nigrido may be labeled as a nervous breakdown, or even psychosis. Mythcrafts

Nigredo is again associated with the arhcetype of the shadow in Jungian Psychology. The Supreme King persona first appears to Judai as a vaguely person shaped shadow, before taking on his form. The shadow is also a reflection of the self, Judai's internal landscape is a dark placed filled with mirrors.

Haou: Yuki Judai. In order to defeat evil, one must become evil. In a world with the law of the jungle at work, one must rule with power. Judai: Power, I don't have that power. Haou: In your hand lies the Super Fusion card. Defeat any spirits who may oppose you, and confine their lives into it the perfect card. Judai: Who are you?

There's also two suns in the background. Judai is referred to as being like the sun, by Sho.

Sho: Aniki, You're too selfish, Aniki. All the time, Aniki, I thought of you like a sun, giving us all strength, able to make the impossible possible. Sho: But I guess I thought wrong. For you, Aniki, things were okay if you were okay. It didn't matter who you sacrificed as long as it all helped your plan! Even if you avenge them, everyone you sacrificed won't come back. Sho: Big bro, you've been dueling just to satisfy yourself. Judai: Sho... Sho: Don't say it like that. You're not my Aniki. You're not my Aniki.

There's two suns depicted in the sky, and this scene we're shown two judais, to show just how divided his self is between his ego and his shadow. Sho even says that he doesn't even recognize Judai and that he's not "His Judai" right now.

Plate 8- Resurrection Out of the Swamp

“She clothed the man with a purple robe, lifted him up to his brightest clearness, and took him with herself to Heaven.” -Trismosin

On the left a strange being, dressed in black and red arises from the mud. He reaches forward to accept a red robe being offered to him.

On the right appears a winged woman, dressed in white, yellow and blue waiting for him to emerge from the mud and giving him a cloak to dress himself.

There is once again many different ways in which this painting is referenced. Haou first appears dressed in armor mainly colored in black, with a red cape exactly like the one the woman is handing the man in the painting.

If Judai is the man emerging from the mud, then the winged woman waiting for him is likely Yubel. Yubel is a winged figure and a hermaphrodite who represents both the masculine and the feminine.

On the bank of the river, holding out the red clock to the emerging man is Sophia. She has angel wings of white peacock feathers and is dressed in a floral robe. Upon her head is a crown topped with a six-pointed star, a symbol used in many traditions to signify the union of male and female energies; hieros gamos again.

The masculine king is reuniting with a feminine winged figure. Yubel as a hermaphrodite represents a union of masculinity and feminity. The winged woman is awaiting the man.

Judai's rise as the supreme king is engineered by Yubel as a part of a plan to reunite them. More specifically to get into plot details Yubel sacrificed their body to become a dragon to protect prince Judai in a past life until the day he would become king. After Judai saw Yubel make such a sacrifice he promised them his eternal love, and to eternally love them alone.

Yubel and Judai then both died at some point and were reborn, Judai as a person and Yubel a duel spirit. Yubel was Judai's best friend when they were young and took the role of protector too serously hurting anyone who came near Judai which made Judai decide to send them away (on a satellite into space).

While alone in space Yubel was hit by the light of destruction, which tortured them with terrible agony for ten years straight. Yubel called out to Judai at first, but Judai stopped responding. Ten years later Yubel crashed back down to earth, and when burning up in earth's atmosphere they continued begging for Judai's help only to be met with silence.

They asked why Judai would abandon them and their love, and that silence became their answer. Judai must have intentionally made them suffer both as a show of love, and to make them stronger.

Yubel then resolves to inflict the same suffering on Judai, first making them all alone like Yubel was, then putting them through trial after trial until they died like Yubel and woke up stronger as the Supreme King: at which point Yubel believed they would reunite again as equals. Yubel also had the additional motive of trying to make Judai recall his past life, which Yubel remembered and Judai did not.

Yubel: I was suffering as you came to forget about me... Yubel: It burns... It hurts...It's killing me. But why? I love him so much. Why is Judai treating me like this? Yubel: And then it hit me. This is just a form of Judai's love. Judai is hurting me and making me suffer because of his love for me. But you see, I couldn't possibly forget about you in the time i've suffered. Yubel: So when I solved the riddle that you posed to me, I was delighted. And that fueled my decision. I would try to fill the entire twelve dimmensions with my love for you. Yubel: And once I did you would have to recognize my love for you, wouldn't you? Yubel: That is why I sought to fill all those linked to you - your world - with both sadness and anguish. Yubel: ANd my line of thinking wasn't wrong. Yubel: I mean you are right before my eyes, Judai.

Yubel: Though, I did have your friends help me which pulled out the darkness inside your heart and ushered you this far.

The entirety of Season 3 is Judai's journey of becoming king, which will lead to his eventual union with Yubel, his soul, and his other half.

The union of Judai and Yubel is necessary in a Jungian sense, because his fusion with Yubel mirrors the process of individuation.

The alchemical texts at our disposal offer four distinct stages in the transformation of base metals into gold: nigredo. the black stage, albedo, the white stage, citrinas, the yellow stage, and finally, rubedo, the red stage. Physical chemists took this literally; depth psychologists, following in the footsteps of Carl Jung, took this figuratively. From the standpoint of depth psychology, the black nigredo is the shadow, the things we hide from ourselves. The albedo, the white stage, is the hieros gamos, the sacred marriage of male/female, or anima and animus. The citrinas, the yellow phase, is the wise elder, the shaman. And the red, or rubedo, which seems to be the point of this image, is what Jung called individuation; the point when the raw materia prima of our psyches turns into something whole.

Yubel sort of represents all three of those archetypal schema. Yubel is Judai's shadow, they awakened the supreme king which embodies all of his negative traits his darkness of heart. As a hermaphrodite Yubel is a sacred marriage of male and female, and Judai also fuses together with Yubel becoming a hermaprhodite himself. Finally, Yubel is the wise man by serving as the mind character to Judai's heart.

Heart, Mind and Body are traditional roles assigned to characters in an alchemy story. The male character s usually heart, and their female protagonist is mind. Judai is emotional, hot-headed, and most of all stupid. Yubel is tactical, capable of making succesful plans long in advanced, calm and thoughtful, and also possesses deep insight into things Judai is clueless about like the nature of love. In fact after the two of them are united, it's Yubel who serves an advisory role to Judai the way Aster does with Yuma in Zexal. Heart and Mind characters are often, but not always romantically linked to one another.

Yubel also appears as a wise guide in a twisted sense, as they're the one guiding Judai throughout the whole journey and eventually they reawaken the memories of his past.

Judai therefore needs to unite with Yubel in order for his psyche to be whole.

There's other characters who can also serve as the sophia / wiseman figure in this instance. Jim Crocodile Cook is the first character to fight Judai to try to get through to him. Once again Jim is an archealogist, he likes trying to reach Judai to digging for sleeping fossils under the earth.

He also possesses a special eye, given to him by a wise man which allows him to see inside of Judai's psyche. Jim is quite literally trying to dig Judai out of the mud. When using his power the comet his eye is associated with turns red, like rubedo and the philosopher's stone because Jim is trying to make Judai whole again.

Austin follows through on Jim's iniatitive and succesfully reaches Judai. His fire deck allows for a nigredo of sorts winning with his fire themed deck to boil away the impurities of Judai's soul starting up the alchemical process.

When Judai awakens he's reborn again underneath a tree into a new self, that's both the supreme king and Judai. Another wiseman figure appears to him in the form of Misawa shortly afterwards to highlight to Judai that the Supreme King isn't a split personality, Judai is the supreme king and he did all of that of his free will.

Judai: The supreme king's gone, though... his powers can't be mine. Misawa: Not quite... Your current self and Supreme King Judai are each one side of the same person. We all have a good and evil side. Judai: But... Misawa: Will you quit it, already! You won't be able to rescue the others with powerless heroics! Controlling your powerful Supreme King side will allow you to bring about justice. Judai: The power of darkness? I can't! Just stop it! Misawa: Stop your whining. Someone who was given special powers will have to fight for all those who've placed their hopes on them, won't they?

In that sense Misawa is the Wiseman who appears to guide Judai to integrate the Supreme King into his psyche, to be more whole.

The Nihilixir

Let's take a break from alchemy to talk about reverse alchemy for a moment, because I can't do a Season 3 post without talking about Amon Garam.

The relationship between Amon and Echo form a dark mirror to the relationship between Judai and Yubel. There are many ways they correspond to each other, both features a king (Judai and Amon) and their servant (Yubel and Echo). Amon is named after a sun god (AMon or Amon-Re), he was abandoned in the desert as a child, he's associated with the solar king. Echo is his Echo more or less, she was raised alongside him to be devoted to him, she's named after the nymph echo cursed to be left behind as nothing more than an Echo. She is passive and subservient, Amon is active and dominating.

I once mentioned Echo above threatening to kill everyone present, so Amon can be in a world where he can become king. Just like Yubel it's Echo's deepest desire for Amon to be king, and Echo genuinely believes Amon has the right to stand above others. They're also set up as the only other explicitly romantic couple besides Judai and Yubel. Yubel drops the extremely intimate "aishiteru" to Judai, and Echo confirms she loves Amon with "Aishiteru" when talking with Edo.

Echo and Amon attempt a union, but unlike Judai and Yubel's union it goes wrong, instead of purifying each other they both basically destroy each other.

Instead of forging a philosopher's stone, what Amon and Echo make is what's called a Nihilixir, a negative transformation. The process of reverse alchemy is elaborated on this posts here.

Love’s alchemy had once transformed him to “Sun”--to ”a quintessence even from nothingness.”   A normal, positive transformation. But now he has been transformed in reverse. a negative transformation. For I am every dead thing... He ruined me, and I am rebegot Of absence, darkness, death, things which are not.... I, by love’s limbecke, am the grave Of all, that’s nothing. (”Limbecke” is another word for the alchemical vessel, the alembic.) The reverse of the Philosopher’s Stone, the Elixir, is the Nihilixir 

While Death and Rebirth is a necessary part of Alchemy, Reverse Alchemy is Death without the rebirth. It's a love which should usually redeem destroying both parties instead.

Kate in this post likens reverse alchemy to the relationship between Oz and Salem from RWBY, an incredibly destructive romance. To paraphrase Kate, death and rebirth is necessary for moving forward in alchemy, but reverse alchemy happens when a character resists death and the grief that comes along with it.

Amon's arc is more or less refusing to feel his own grief. He is undeniably an abused child with a terrible lot in life, left to starve to death when he thinks he's finally saved and works hard to earn his parent's love he is replaced by a biological child and learns how conditional his parent's love is.

Yubel basically takes advantage of all the unprocessed grief that Amon has in order to move him forward to his destruction.

Yubel: My power is not especially great. But those with darkness in their hearts can unleash great power in me. Yubel: The pus welling out of your injured heart forms a second heart. I can see that other heart. The darkness in it. Yubel: The darkness in your heart that has nowhere else to go. You desire life-risking tasks because, all you want is a place to die. Yubel: That’s right. That is the darkness of your heart. it’s there, in the depths of your mind. The cream of your other heart, born from your stagnant blood!

In other words Amon is plagued by thoughts of suicidal ideation and takes on risky missions for the sake of the Garam Conglomerate because he's hoping to just die somewhere far away from his parent's - because he thinks he's been shunned from his family and therefore there's no place for him in this world.

He believes that so thoroughly he even leaves this world and doesn't come back, for a chance to be king in an alternate dimmension free from family obligations.

Yubel says that in order to become whole, to become his true self he would need to "kill his god." More specifically kill his iron will, the resolve he made when his brother was born to only exist for the sake of the Garam conglomerate.

However, you cannot kill your own god. That is because it is the role of a devil.

There's an element of truth to Yubel's words, Yubel is the spirit of wisdom after all. Amon needs to accept death, in order to be reborn as someone new.

Kate basically says where Salem and Oz's relationship goes wrong is that Salem cannot accept death or grieve Oz, and imagine living in a world without him. Which is why she's cursed with immortality, literally becoming undying, and unable to change as well.

Amon cannot accept grief. He's still obsessed with the idea of becoming the head of the Garam family, like he was promised when he was younger - symbolically coming king. He can neither let go of that idea and try to find other ways to be happy in life, or grieve his parent's abuse of him by basically raising him to be a tool only to discard him.

In fact, I believe a lot of people have trouble connecting to Amon as a character because he doesn't openly grieve - he remains stoic b/c he's so dedicated to trying to repress all his pain from his terrible life.

This is another way in which Amon foils Judai, they're both referred to as being pure of heart, and therefore lacking a shadow and darkness. This is not a good thing, Judai's lack of darkness of the heart makes him blind to his own flaws until he hits his lowest point. Amon's so disconnected from his own emotions, he can at one point cruelly lure Echo to her own murder, then five minutes later claim to love her. It's this resistance of grief, and lack of darkness of his heart that makes Amon unable to transform into his better self.

Paralleling Judai yet again, Amon conducts a ritual to sacrifice his loved one in order to forge a powerful card, Superpoly for Judai and Exodia for Amon. However, him and Echo don't die together, it's not a union it's a one-sided affair with Echo taking on all the sacrifice herself. As I said, Amon is unwilling to bear the pain in any way. This is something that Yubel gleefully points out to Amon.

Yubel: I get it now... You weren't in love with Echo. Yubel: No. You may have loved her just enough to clear the conditions in place for you to control Exodia. Yubel: But then, you didn't truly love each other. Yubel: You were only unfairly hurting her, while you would stay unharmed. Yubel: You wouldn't suffer. You wouldn't be in pain.

Yubel: And that's why I'm having Judai go through the same feelings! That could be what it means for us to love!

Again there is an element of truth to Yubel's words. Amon and Echo's relationship was fundamentally unequal and Amon has no desire to change it, and even takes advantage of Echo in that way.

Yubel for all the pain they inflict on Judai desires to be equal in their pains, and their goal is connection and communication which is fundamental to the process of alchemy. Yubel does many things, but they're not resisting grief. In comparison to Amon who shows almost no emotion at Echo's passing, Yubel openly cries on multiple occasions from the pain of Judai abandoning them.

Amon's inability to process his grief of let himself feel pain, or just let go of the idea that he was meant to become his parent's heir and inherit the world - he can't see that he could try to live some other way. He's blind to the people who love him in his life. This is also something that Yubel points out, he could have tried to live a different life from what his family set out for him with Echo. Echo who was always there and loved him. He can't get over his parents lack of love to see there was still love in his life. He can't see a world where he can live without his parent's love.

Yubel: That isn't a world! Yubel: I wouldn't even think of living in a world like that. Yubel: You see, a "world" is something that you build with the one that you love! Yubel: For me, it's something I'll build with Judai! That is a world!

Amon could have created something new with Echo, but he refused to change. Which is why in the end they both destroy each other.

Of course, Judai and Yubel's love isn't exactly a paragon of healthy relationship. Yubel is also unable to imagine a world where they can't live without Judai. However Yubel does allow their beliefs to change after a union with Judai, originally Yubel was so afraid of Judai's rejection they wanted to monpolize all of Judai's attention and essentially live in a world with only them and Judai.

However, after their union in season 4 Yubel is able to accept Judai having bonds with other people doesn't mean that Judai will abandon them.

The parallel with Amon and Echo shows that Judai and Yubel have the potential to destroy each other, but by accepting each other's grief thy both changed for the better instead.

Plate 9 - The Hermaphrodite

The hermaphrodite is the smybol of the marraige of Solar and Lunar (Sun and Moon.) This is usually embodied by a chemical wedding. This post will be shorter, because I already detailed Judai and Yubel's chemical wedding in this post here.

The Splender Solis depicts a winged figure with two heads, one male and one female. The masculine side of the figure is solar symbolism, his radiant shield, his red wing, his golden halo. The feminine side of this figure is lunar symbolism, her white wing, her silver halo, the egg she holds in her hand. Menstrual cycle are lunar, eggs are lunar, etc.

Yubel’s design is a Rebis, split male and female down the middle. It’s even implied in their backstory they were more masculine, and through an alchemical process to become a dragon altered their body to look as such, giving them several feminine traits.

Yubel as one boob and one pec, one muscular leg and one femine leg, speaks in two voices a deep masculine one and a light feminine one, defaults to using masculine “boku”, but plays a feminine role to comparison Judai’s more straighforward masculinity, they even have their face split one side being drawn with eyelashes.

he appearance of the Hermaphrodite comes after what Jung called the Conjunctio, metaphorically the marriage of Solar and Lunar, or the physical marriage of alchemical sulfur and mercury. While the imagery of plate 9 is quite explicit in its depiction of the hermaphrodite, it is subtle in comparison to another illuminated medieval text: the Rosarium Philosophorum (Rode Garden philosophy)

Judai and Yubel also literally duel together in a Rose garden.

When opposites are finally reconciled, the great hermaphrodite is formed. Judai even refers to this as an act of finally purifying the light’s corruption from Yubel’s soul by uniting it with the supreme king’s soul. The union is a purifying process, and the end of Yubel and Judai’s long journey of losing each other and finding each other again.

However, in order to be purified they have to both let their old selves die in order to form something new, the final death but one they experience together. In order to do that both need to experience a dismemberment.

Plate 10 and Plate 11

I'm coupling these two together because the Severing the head of the king an the bath represent the final process of death and rebirth.

Alchemy is violent, Solve et Coagula requires things to dissolve away before they can coagulate together again. Before the psyche can rebuild, it has to be ripped apart. Before a relationship can get better, two lovers need to clash.

The image itself is set in a city in a countryside, a man is holding a decapitated head severed from a body lying at his feet. Both Judai and Yubel experience a dismemberment at one point or another. In another classical alchemical text Lunar King and Queen experience this dismemberment together, in order to represent the violent union of opposites.

Judai experiences Ego death after his friends are dissolved and adopts the moniker of the supreme king. When he's finally snapped out of it, Hell Kaiser takes his helmet off and throws the helmet to the crowd below in a symbolic decapitation.

Yubel is torn to pieces when they re-enter earth's atmopshere, and quite literally are reduced to just a hand the way the body's limbs are all cut off. They need to use duel energy to restore each other. The second time they dissolve in the duel against Judai and Johan and they physically dissolve a second time and need to possess Johan's body in order to recover.

Another feature of the Splendor Solis painting is the kingdom by a river in the background invoking water, and Air which is related to the sword suit in tarot like the sword the main holds.

Judai and Yubel duel atop the clouds (air) and recalls the past when the air starts blowing the clouds away revealing a kingdom by the waterside.

While experiencing the past he recalls the violent surgery Yubel endured to be reborn as a dragon, literally tearing their body apart in a painful procedure.

Afterwards Prince Judai touched by the sacrifice Yubel made for their sake, unites with Yubel, promising Yubel their eternal love. He also recalls that he and Yubel were together in their past lives, and therefore they've already experienced one death only to be reborn again and meet each other. Judai: You did this... to protect me. Yubel: It is fine. Protecting you as you grow from a child into an adult is my duty after all. Judai: Yubel, I promise you. My love will only belong to you. No matter what anyone says, I will keep loving you.

The union and promise also take place by the waterside, which is symbolic of the bath which is the final plat of the Solis.

The final image is a man sitting in a bath, with a fire beneath it. The plate is an analaogy for sublimation the boiling fo a substance - Judai experienced a sublimation when the water of the clouds turned to air, in a breeze that revealed his past.

IWhen a bath appear in fiction it's often depicted as a man and woman bathing, though it doesn't necessarily have to involve water. For Judai and Yubel, it's their final union brought about by Super Polymerization fusing their souls together.

Judai even refers to this process of purifying the corruption of the light of destruction by joining his soul together with theirs.

Yubel is not destroyed, but rather pacified with a single touch must like Esther with her king, and ends up giving up on their plans of destruction from one act of communication and understanding.

The parable contains a reference to Medea.

“OVID the old Roman, wrote to the same end, when he mentioned an ancient Sage who desired to rejuvenate himself was told: he should allow himself to be cut to pieces and decoct to a perfect decoction, and then his limbs would reunite and again be renewed in plenty of strength.” (Trismosin 33).

Medea married the hero Jason. When he asked her to strengthen his father, she instead ritually killed him, bleeding his old blood away only to restore him later. Medea's also famous for dismembering her brother so that's kind of fun.

Yubel is a very Medea like figure, the embodiment of a woman scorned, after Jason abandoned Medea to marry a new wife, Medea decided to avenge herself by killing his wife, his children, his new father in law but sparing Jason. Her revenge is making him just as alone as she was. Yubel also cannot bring themselves to kill Judai, but take out their pain on all of his friends so Judai will have nothing left but them.

However, as mythcrafts says:

This image relates the ultimate cost of enlightenment, and the curse of growing up; all growth requires sacrifice. New life demands a little dying.

The path is physically painful. The man in the bath is being boiled. Chemical weddings are violent. Hudai screams out in agony when his soul is being fused with Yubel's. He even says that this fusion might destroy who he is now.

However, acepting that death is what allows both Judai and Yubel to take the first steps into healing together.

The plate is also a metaphor for the Hermes Trismegistus,  “it arises from the earth and descends from heaven; it gathers to itself the strength of things above and things below” often shortned to "As above, so below."

Judai and Yubel's chemical wedding in the material world, also radiates to affect the cosmos or the world of the heavens. We see this in the effects of Super Polymerization changing the world around them, as it cuts to several characters in the outside world as the destruction of super poly spreads outward.

However, after the violent process of disolve et coagula is over, the two are empowered by each other to fight the light of destruction together. The change is now spreading out to the cosmos. They begin a journey of atonement which lasts even beyond season 4 and into the rest of their lives, to make up for the destruction they've caused.

Judai's friends who've been dissolved away finally return at the same time, and even Judai who is pronounced dead makes a return by the next episode changed into a fusion of himself and Yubel.

Death and rebirth, Grief and healing, all of Yubel's grief even dissolves away into tears as they finally let go of the idea they need to hurt others as much as they've been hurt.

Also because this is citrinitas the entire scene is dyed yellow. By accepting Yubel into his soul, Judai has transformed the dark night into a solar light. THe sun has risen for them both, as the lunar queen reunites with the solar king, they are no longer servant and master but equal.

 The third stage, citrinitas, brings forth the light of the sun (the masculine), a light which magically transforms the shadowy and fearful subconscious into valuable consciousness. From the dark night of rubedo, to the pale morning light of albedo, the sun rises in citrinitas to the culmination of day in rubedo.

As Judai and Yubel depart together, we finally move onto the fourth stage of alchemy Rubedo where Judai and Yubel become one whole self!

I'll elaborate more on that on my next alchemy post though, because alchemy is still a four step process and there's still more to come for Judai / Yubel.

[neteyamslovrr]

Hey hey, I have a plot in mind that I hope you like!

So imagine Lo'ak being head over heels in love with reader, a metkayina. They both like each other and she actually sees how Lo'ak punches Aonung. He goes on to tease reader like "how the hell could you fall for a freak, how could you wanna mate with demon blood" etc. and reader just looks at her hand, builds a fist and punches Aonung, it shuts him up right away and she's like "I should do that more often" and Loak hears about this and is like "Fuck yeah imma tell her. Imma marry this woman."

Maybe my humor is broken, but i think its funny, simple and effective.

Have a nice day! 💙

Defend Your Love

summary: lo’ak fell in love with you the moment he saw you, as time went past you were there to defend your love for him.

1.4k words!

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Lo’ak could never forget the first time he saw you. The way you strut over to his begging family. The way your hips swung, your hair blew with the wind as you inspected each of his family members with curious eyes. They were all printed into his mind for eternity.

He’d never forget you, you were now plastered in his mind, an ingrained image of beauty. From the second he saw you, he felt fuzzy, it could’ve been the adrenaline but his mind screamed for you. He felt drawn to you like a magnet is drawn to iron.

“Bro you’re staring.” Neteyam slapped Lo’ak’s head lightly diverting Lo’ak’s attention away from you to hiss at his brother. How could he not stare, you were so beautiful, you were the ocean’s pearl, not even the stars could compare to you.

“Shut up!” Lo’ak pushed his brother embarrassed that he was caught staring.

“At least try and not look that obvious. You may as well be drooling.” Neteyam laughed loudly at himself as Lo’ak grumbled in embarrassment covering his heating up face. “Bro. Bro. Bro.” Neteyam slapped Lo’ak’s arm harshly earning a bitter glare from his younger brother. “Bro she’s coming be cool.”

“What?!” Lo’ak’s eyes widened looking at you approach him and his brother. You were talking to Kiri passionately, your face adorned in a wide smile as you walked closer and closer to him.

“Hey guys.”

“…Hey.” Lo’ak cursed himself. Could he have been any more awkward. Time to bury himself in the sand.

“What have you two been up to?” Neteyam asked trying to disperse the awkward tension radiating off his younger brother.

“Kiri and I were out looking at the coral, I was just showing her around the reef.” Lo’ak paid attention to every single word that came out your mouth, watching the way your lips moved and processed every single sentence that you spoke.

“I’m sure it was pretty.” Lo’ak spoke gazing into your bright eyes. Kiri nodded enthusiastically in response.

“Would you like me to show you around the reef Lo’ak?” His named sounded angelic the way it rolled off your tongue. Lo’ak’s mind froze for a minute, he was enamoured by you and your invite to show him around was something that he didn’t ever think would happen.

Neteyam shoved him lightly, waking him up from his love-stricken daze. “Oh! Uh…yeah.” Neteyam tried to hold in his cackle the way his awkward brother tried to sound cool, it was almost impressive how much he sucked at it. At least you found it cute.

“Come then!” You cheered rushing him to the shore, grabbing a hold of his hand as you dragged him into the cold water. “You can hold your breath more than before, yes?” You asked as the pair of you waded in the water.

Lo’ak was still processing the fact that his hand was in your grip. He nodded earning a soft smile from you, oh you were just so pretty.

You guided him into the water. Making sure he was close behind, you continued to swim so he could see the coral reefs below him.

Looking back you saw him enamoured by the colours and patterns sprawled out across the ocean floor. He swam to go close to the fish watching them swim by as he looked at every piece of floral and fauna his eyes could come across. He was enchanted with the beauty of the sea while you were enchanted with the beauty of him.

His braids floating gracefully in the air, his puffed-out cheeks as he held his breath made you chuckle. His skin glimmering in the water as his golden eyes shun like bright stars in the sky. He was breath-taking to you.

Rising to the tops of the water, Lo’ak gasped for air as you gracefully swam to the top. You did everything so beautifully he thought.

“Wasn’t it pretty?”

“Almost as pretty as you.” That was the moment you fell for Lo’ak Sully, and you were going to keep falling forever if you could.

It had been almost two months since that moment in the reef, and the two of you had only gotten closer. It felt like a dream to Lo’ak, to have this ethereal girl beside him and to call each other their own. It was surreal.

However, not everything was a dream. Not while he still had to deal with Ao’nung pestering his family, disrespecting them constantly.

Though, today fish lips had gone too far. Picking on his older sister, calling her names, making fun of her. He wouldn’t stand for it, he refused.

While he was ready to take any beating for his sister, Neteyam stepped in, diffusing the situation. They didn’t deserve to be let off. Ao’nung deserved a beating, a harsh one at that.

“It’s called a punch bitch!” Three hard swings to the face and all hell broke loose. If he knew you were watching he would’ve tried just a bit harder to not be dragged by the tail, but after all the punches, kicks and drags, he still had to face his father, the worst punishment of all.

Ridiculed and shamed as his head hung low, listening to Neteyam try and take the blame again. This was exhausting. Why should he be shamed for protecting his family, his sister?

“Can I leave now?” Lo’ak grumbled out. Glaringly disappointed eyes darting at him from his father.

“Go apologise. I don’t care how you do it. Make peace.” Pushed out of his marui by his angry father, he dragged his feet across the ground to search for Ao’nung. His face ached, his body adorned in bright red scratches and dark bruises. His body hurt but the conversation he started to hear in the distance hurt more.

There you stood back facing Lo’ak as a bruised Ao’nung stood above you, his gaze was demeaning and cruel as you stared up at the taller man.

“You love that demon? You should be ashamed. You’re a disappointment to our clan. Demon blood runs through his veins. That four fingered freak? How could you fall in love with someone so ugly, so useless? You really want to mate with demon blood? Infect you womb and family with his four fingered freakiness for the rest of your life. It’s disgusting.” Ao’nung spat at you, his words like daggers hitting you in the heart.

“Ao’nung do not talk of Lo’ak like that.”

“Or what? You’re a freak lover.”

The urge consumed your body quickly. Adrenaline rushing through your veins as you balled your fist up tightly. Swinging into Ao’nung’s already bruised cheek, a loud crack ringing through the air as your fist met his face. He stumbled back, holding onto his cheek in disbelief, his eyes wide in shock.

“I get why Lo’ak punched you now.” You pronounced as you shook your small hand, as it ached slightly from the impact.

Lo’ak watched the incident from a close distance. His mouth crawling into a proud smile as you turned around to face him, surprised to see him standing there proudly.

You ran over to Lo’ak, your heart beating fast, eyes blurry as your eyes water with adrenaline. “Lo’ak! I punched Ao’nung!” You whisper shouted running past your boyfriend grabbing his hand to pull him away from the scene of the assault.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?’

“Do you know how hot that was.” Cheeks immediately heating up you pushed him lightly, looking into his amused gaze.

“Stoppp” you whined, your face hot from the sudden compliment.

Lo’ak wrapped his arms around you, feeling your body against him was still surreal, but your soft touches always brought him back to reality. Lo’ak looked down at you, resting a calloused hand on your soft cheek.

“So…is it true?” Your eyebrows furrowed, confused at your boyfriend’s question.

“What’s true?”

“That you’re in love with demon blood?” Lo’ak smiled down at you watching your face go bright. You didn’t think that this was going to be how you said I love you for the first time.

“It is not true.” Lo’ak’s smile faltered for just a second before you continued. “I’m in love with Lo’ak Sully, that’s who.”

“Bro’s making me blush.” You rolled your eyes at him holding him tightly.

He laid a soft kiss onto your forehead, looking straight in your eyes, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I’m in love with you too Y/N.”

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authors note: FIRST LOAK FIC WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, hope you enjoyed! made ao'nung a dick in this one :)