#Mocking Bird Method

[maiiuelle]

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rafe cameron is not known for giving heartfelt apologies, but after what he had done to you last week, he couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach.

he tried all his usual methods of letting go — starting with more meaningless hook ups, cocaine, and partying. it felt natural to try to move on like you were just another fling, after all you were never officially together. it worked enough to keep him occupied, but ultimately, it only made him feel worse to pretend you meant nothing to him. it serves as a constant reminder of exactly how he made you feel that night — like nothing.

the intrusive memory of what happened haunts him. before the incident, you were really growing on him. he made you his main girl without meaning to, inviting you to the club and out golfing just because he genuinely wanted you there beside him. by the time he realized he had real feelings for you, it felt like everyone else already knew.

you made him feel vulnerable, and it scared him. being so public with you put his emotions out on display. he had to remind himself that you weren’t his girlfriend, you were just supposed to be another girl he had on his roster. he has a big ego and an even bigger reputation, and in an attempt to protect that rather than you, he continued on with his bachelor lifestyle.

he never imagined you’d show up that night — he hoped brushing you off would shoo you away, save you from the inevitable realization he isn’t as great as he makes himself out to be. instead, you made him face you head on, and he would remember the devastated look on your face forever.

the nonchalant mask finally slips when his friends start asking where you went, having noticed your sudden absence. after all that time of trying to suppress his guilt, it struck a nerve just hearing your name. “who’s asking? ‘cause—cause i know it’s none of your fuckin’ business what she’s up to.”

topper lifts his hands in surrender, eyeing kelce. “woah. chill, man. i was just wondering, i thought you were into that chick.”

kelce snickers, taking the chance to finally get payback for every time rafe mocked them for chasing after girls. “what? did she dump you or something?”

rafe just pushes out of his seat, waving them off as he finishes what’s left in his glass. he doesn’t spare his friends another glance despite their boisterous protests, instead just addressing the bartender on his way out. “put it on cameron.”

he can’t handle it anymore, he has to do something.

it’s officially been a week since you last saw rafe. like clockwork the early birds begin to sing songs as they welcome the brand new day, the sun just starting to rise above the horizon. you’re still awake from the night before, unable to sleep with how your mind is racing.

you had been holding it together much better than rafe — to the public, you’re thriving. you go out with your friends every night, looking better than ever at yacht parties and the island club. it’s freeing to spend more time with your girl friends again, but you really can’t stand to spend any time by yourself.

thats why the nights are the worst, when you’re stuck alone in the silent solitude of your bedroom. that’s where you are now, wrapped up in your duvet with puffy eyes from crying all night over him. you just couldn’t wrap your head around the betrayal — after you thought you truly knew him, he turned out to be exactly how everyone said he was. manipulative, slimy, and selfish. your heart aches at your own ignorance, feeling stupid for not seeing the now obvious red flags.

to try to get your mind off of him, even just for a second, you tune into the gentle tapping of morning rain on your windowsill. in an overtired daze, you dream of being a princess locked away in a tower with your heroic lover waiting below, tossing stones at your window to garner your attention.

you don’t let it play on for too long, cutting it off abruptly by pulling your pillow over your face, silently scolding yourself. your infatuation with romance novels is what got you into this mess in the first place, making you delusively believe that rafe cameron was your prince charming. so stupid.

but, the tapping grows louder, your silly fantasy rebelling against you, refusing to disappear. in a fit of exhausted frustration, you grab the pillow off your head and throw it across the room, watching as it lands flat on the floor just short of the window, just in time for one of the shiny stones from your garden to hit the glass. then another, and another.

it couldn’t be. you can’t believe your eyes, especially after a long night of sobbing and zero sleep. you slowly slip out of your bed, walking up to the window cautiously.

“oh, you have to be joking.” you look down from your bedroom window to see none other than rafe standing in your lawn with a hand full of rocks and his truck parked on the curb. he’s clearly had a long night too, swaying on his feet and deflating when he sees you appear in the window.

“baby! baby — please talk to me!” he shouts, and you rush to push your window open. your father already hates the camerons, and you don’t want to deal with that confrontation if he wakes him up this early in the morning.

“shhh!” you press your finger to your lips, practically pushing your whole upper body out the window urgently to whisper-shout at him. “what are you thinking? my dad’s gonna kill you!”

“baby, i—i need to talk to you, please.” rafe whines, dropping the rest of the stones in his hand so he can push his bangs back. desperation looks strange on him, in your state of shock you hold up a hand to silence him and give yourself a second to weigh your options. you could get him back for what he did right now, do exactly what he did to you — you could scream at him to leave, to never speak to you again, and go get your father to handle the rest.

but instead, you just roll your eyes. so stupid. “just.. just wait a second.” you sigh as you shut the window quietly, closing your eyes for a moment of pause. before you change your mind, you march to your bedroom door, grabbing your fluffy robe and slipping it over your shoulders followed by your slippers.

you would never do any of that to him, not with the way you still feel about him, no matter how frustrating that is. you wish he could just be dead to you, but that’s not how you feel. the least you could do is hear out what he has to say for himself, even big bad rafe cameron deserves a second chance.

you take a deep breath as you slip down the stairs quietly, bracing yourself to face him. you open the front door, pulling your robe tighter over your nightgown to fight the cold morning air that bites at your skin as you sneak outside.

rafe rushes toward you, holding his head in anguish. “baby, listen to me. i—i know i screwed up, alright? i—”

“stop!” you thump your foot on the front porch, glaring at him from the top of the wooden steps. just because you’re kind enough to give him the time of day doesn’t mean he’s off the hook. he listens, pausing with wide eyes as he looks you over. he really is a mess, tears falling from his eyes and mixing with the morning rain that’s already soaked his hair and shirt. “god, rafe. what is going on with you?”

“i’m a fuckin’ idiot.” he cries, his face twisting as he sobs. “we had something good, right? and—and i fucked it all up. i did. it’s all my fault.”

you stand there with your arms crossed in front of you like a shield.“how do you think i feel? i thought you cared, meanwhile you’re lying to me and fucking some other girl?” you frown, staring him down. “you.. you humiliated me!”

“i know, i know — trust me, i know!” he grits his teeth, spinning on his heel in frustration before pacing back toward you. “you’ve got no idea, alright? i promise you, i’ve torn myself apart enough over this. just—” he strains, sucking in a shaky deep breath and forcing it out, trying to calm down. “i need you. okay?”

“oh really? how am i supposed to trust you?” you spit, venom in your voice. seeing him grovel at your front steps is oddly satisfying, even though the deep hurt in his voice is twisting your stomach.

“baby, look at me!” rafe drags his hands down his wet shirt, looking at you like a puppy dog stuck out in the rain. “i’m a fuckin’ mess without you. look, i—i took advantage of the situation, alright, i admit that. but i can’t breathe without you.” he stops, fidgeting anxiously as he waits for a response. you’re frozen, equally as shocked as him at his words. the anxiety gets the better of him and he steps forward, moving up the steps toward you. seeing your teary, red eyes stings in his chest. “c’mere, okay? let’s just — let’s just put this all behind us, right?”

“rafe—”

“nah, nah. it’s alright, c’mere.” he coos, and you kick yourself because you don’t back away, instead letting him come up on your porch and put his arms out for you. you blink up at him with your doe eyes, the sympathetic look on his face melting your defense. you just crumble into his arms, having been so desperate for him to comfort you exactly how he his now. “c’mon, there you go. you’re my girl. my girl.”

could you give him another chance?

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[unicornachos2]

Reflecting™ and feeling Devastated about how it's a strong theme in ROTE that Beloved is skilled at like. Nesting like a bird.

At transforming an environment they exist within into a safe and cosy space. And Fitz feels drawn to these spaces and feels safe in them too, and notes that each time.

They're these private little worlds where no matter what is happening in the outside world, everything in that bubble is soft and warm and bright and creative and safe.

No matter who Beloved is with, no matter where they are, their safe space is their private little bubble. Their home isn't people, their home is the nest they construct.

And then after the torture, Beloved can't sleep in the tent anymore. And after the torture, Beloved tells Fitz to leave the tent behind.

Beloved has lost the ability (for now idk about future books) to feel safe in the spaces they create. They've even lost the ability to use their true name without being reminded of how it was used to mock them.

But after the torture, after Beloved leaves the tent the first time, Beloved sleeps between Fitz and the fire. There is Huge significance in them not feeling safe in that space anymore. Beloved gets used to sleeping next to Fitz instead, Fitz holding them in his arms, kissing their forehead, letting them cry.

In the cave, Beloved tells Fitz that family is not a place, it's who you're with. Beloved has realised that they can't feel safe on their own after what's happened to them.

Beloved has left one safe space and discovered another. At the end of years of keeping Fitz at a distance, they discard the safe space no longer working for them and allow Fitz to see all of them, and rest where they can in another person's arms.

And then they immediately give Fitz up because they think it's what's best for Fitz, and they can't bare to have to share Fitz's heart.

And I just... It's so fucking devastating that Beloved ends the Tawny Man trilogy with no nest and the removal of their safe spaces. Beloved has just discovered Prilkop and has plans to right the wrongs of the way the prophets are taught and live, but ultimately Fool's Fate is a complete stripping away of Beloved's 2 methods of finding safety.

And so I'm gonna go cry now brb

[hermiones-amortentia]

Hermione's arc as a character in books

More I grow up more I realise what a disappointing character Hermione became in the last two books. Rowling ruined her whole character with narrative bias. If only she could let her face consequences for things and she learned from them.. what a great complex character she could have been.

PS- we meet Hermione, a socially awkard bookworm who is quite intelligent and shows she can break rules but most of the time she is obsessed with rules. We see Hermione panicking under pressure. So what flaws Hermione has in the 1st book?

Socially awkward, freezes under pressure, too bossy, rule follower, close minded. A character with strengths and flaws. 9.5/10.

COS- Hermione has a crush on an incompetent teacher. She learns books can be misleading. Looks can be deceiving. Still more competent than most of the teachers and figures out who the slytherin monster is. She is still uptight. But a bit less. Ron's influence is working.

Awesome character. 9/10(.5 deducted away bcz she brews a NEWT level potion. Not impossible. But very unlikely)

POA- narrative bias start but only slightly. Throughout that book Hermione refuses to control her cat and even drops him on Ron's bed despite Ron's warning. But she does apologise to Ron. She hugs him. later scabbers turns out to be Peter. So readers sub consciously side with her even though she is 100% wrong. She goes behind Harry's back and reports the firebolt. But it turns out she is right again. It was sent by Sirius. And Harry and Ron come across as assholes.

Still she helps Sirius to escape with buckbeak. 8.5/10.

GOF- everyone is dying to date an int Quidditch star. Hermione is totally uninterested. But whom does he choose? Hermione!!!! Hermione just use hair potion and wears a pretty dress robes. Bam!! She is the most beautiful person at the ball. Even Draco and pansy, her school bullies are stunned.

Ron comes across as an asshole for not seeing her beauty and treating her terribly. Ron thinks Krum is using her. Hermione thinks Krum is great. AGAIN she is right. Krum has no ill intention. He is the prince charming and treats Hermione with all the respect, kindness. But Hermione rejects him even though he is on the paper is written to be much much much more desirable than her canon love interest. Just show me a single character flaw of Krum(except for having strong affinity towards underage girls) I will be waiting. You can't. Bcz Krum is a plot device to stroke JKR's ego. Yes. Hermione is JKR.

She also stands by Harry's side when Ron and everyone else turns on Harry. She kidnaps Skeeter and puts her in a jar. Kidnaps a human being!! But who does the narrative side with? Her. Bcz Rita is a nasty, vile destructive bitch who needs to learn her lesson.

She also starts to fight against house elf enslavement. But atleast narrative shows her method is all wrong. 6/10.

OOTP- Hermione is lot less uptight now. Good character development. She is also socially less awkward. She arranges DA meetings. She meets new ppl and she hardly ever loses patience with Harry when he is shouting at her and Ron 24/7. She is a lot snipy towards Ron in this book idk why. May be she hates that she is falling in love with him when he seems to vibe in his own world.

She scars a girl's face. Who does the narrative side with? Her. Bcz Marietta is a snitch.

She tells Harry voldy is trying to trap him. And she is right. As usual. Sirius dies bcz of Harry's idiocy. She also knits hats and tries to force them on elves. But again narrative shows that her method is wrong. 7/10.

HBP- the limit of bias. She attacks Ron with birds for dating lav. But who does get the blame? RON. The passage ends with 'Harry thought he heard a sob'. That means forget that Hermione attacked Ron with birds. Forget that Ron is in pain. Hermione is crying. She is the victim. Feel for her. Not him.

She laughs 'unkindly' at his moustache. Ron mocks her back. She starts crying. Who does Harry side with? Hermione.

And don't get me started on Ron/Lav. While Krum's sole pupose is to show how superior he is to Ron. Lavender's sole purpose is to show why Hermione is superior to her in every way and what an idiot Ron is for not seeing it. Their kissing scenes are written with phrases 'plunger being withdrawn from the sink'

She tells Harry the HBP book is dangerous. Again she is right. Harry almost murders malfoy. But she denies that malfoy is a DE and she is proven wrong afterwards. 3/10. HBP is my least favourite book.

DH- she does the 90% work during their camping trip. She rescues them from Lovegood's house. She rescues them from the ministry. So now she is great under pressure.

She also lies to Bellatrix while being crucioed. She denies Hallows existence. But Harry proves her wrong.

And the most crucial one. Ron breaks under pressure. He leaves. Hermione stays. Again she proves she is 'better' than Ron.

By the end of DH she has little to no flaw. She has overcome most of her flaws she has in PS. 6/10.

This is Hermione's whole arc. She didnt live up to the expectation. She was a much much better character in the 1st 3 books. But the narrative bias hindered her growth by justifying her all wrongdoings. I still love the 1st 3 book Hermione. The latter version is disappointing.

And the less I will talk about that one dimensional mary sue in movies more it will be better.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Humans infecting animals infecting humans − from COVID-19 to bird flu, preventing pandemics requires protecting all species - Published Sept 4, 2024

I remember back in 2022, someone mocked me for worrying about zoonosis of new coivd strains. The science backs up my thoughts once again: We have to protect *everyone,* even critters, from disease to prevent future pandemics.

Authors Anna Fagre Veterinary Microbiologist and Wildlife Epidemiologist, Colorado State University

Sadie Jane Ryan Professor of Medical Geography, University of Florida

When the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a pandemic on March 11, 2020, humans had been the only species with reported cases of the disease. While early genetic analyses pointed to horseshoe bats as the evolutionary hosts of SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes COVID-19, no reports had yet surfaced indicating it could be transmitted from humans to other animal species.

Less than two weeks later, a report from Belgium marked the first infection in a domestic cat – presumably by its owner. Summer 2020 saw news of COVID-19 outbreaks and subsequent cullings in mink farms across Europe and fears of similar calls for culling in North America. Humans and other animals on and around mink farms tested positive, raising questions about the potential for a secondary wildlife reservoir of COVID-19. That is, the virus could infect and establish a transmission cycle in a different species than the one in which it originated.

For example, spillback has been a long-standing threat to endangered great apes, even among populations with infrequent human contact. The chimpanzees of Gombe National Park, made famous by Jane Goodall’s work, have suffered outbreaks of measles and other respiratory diseases likely resulting from environmental persistence of pathogens spread by people living nearby or by ecotourists.

We are researchers who study the mechanisms driving cross-species disease transmission and how disease affects both wildlife conservation and people. Emerging outbreaks have underscored the importance of understanding how threats to wildlife health shape the emergence and spread of zoonotic pathogens. Our research suggests that looking at historical outbreaks can help predict and prevent the next pandemic.

Spillback has happened before Our research group wanted to assess how often spillback had been reported in the years leading up to the COVID-19 pandemic. A retrospective analysis not only allows us to identify specific trends or barriers in reporting spillback events but also helps us understand where new emergent threats are most likely.

We examined historical spillback events involving different groups of pathogens across the animal kingdom, accounting for variations in geography, methods and sample sizes. We synthesized scientific reports of spillback across nearly a century prior to the COVID-19 pandemic – from the 1920s to 2019 – which included diseases ranging from salmonella and intestinal parasites to human tuberculosis, influenza and polio.

We were also interested in determining whether detection and reporting bias might influence what’s known about human-to-animal pathogen transmission. Charismatic megafauna – often defined as larger mammals such as pandas, gorillas, elephants and whales that evoke emotion in people – tend to be overrepresented in wildlife epidemiology and conservation efforts. They receive more public attention and funding than smaller and less visible species.

Complicating this further are difficulties in monitoring wild populations of small animals, as they decompose quickly and are frequently scavenged by larger animals. This drastically reduces the time window during which researchers can investigate outbreaks and collect samples.

The results of our historical analysis support our suspicions that most reports described outbreaks in large charismatic megafauna. Many were captive, such as in zoos or rehabilitation centers, or semi-captive, such as well-studied great apes.

Despite the litany of papers published on new pathogens discovered in bats and rodents, the number of studies examining pathogens transmitted from humans to these animals was scant. However, small mammals occupying diverse ecological niches, including animals that live near human dwellings – such as deer mice, rats and skunks – may be more likely to not only share their pathogens with people but also to be infected by human pathogens.

COVID-19 and pandemic flu In our historical analysis of spillback prior to the COVID-19 pandemic, the only evidence we found supporting the establishment of a human pathogen in a wildlife population were two 2019 reports describing H1N1 infection in striped skunks. Like coronaviruses, influenza A viruses such as H1N1 are adept at switching hosts and can infect a broad range of species.

Unlike coronaviruses, however, their widespread transmission is facilitated by migratory waterfowl such as ducks and geese. Exactly how these skunks became infected with H1N1 and for how long remains unclear.

Shortly after we completed the analysis for our study, reports describing widespread COVID-19 infection of white-tailed deer throughout North America began surfacing in November 2021. In some areas, the prevalence of infection was as high as 80% despite little evidence of sickness in the deer.

This ubiquitous mammal has effectively become a secondary reservoir of COVID-19 in North America. Further, genetic evidence suggests that SARS-CoV-2 evolves three times faster in white-tailed deer than in humans, potentially increasing the risk of seeding new variants into humans and other animals. There is already evidence of deer-to-human transmission of a previously unseen variant of COVID-19.

There are over 30 million white-tailed deer in North America, many in agricultural and suburban areas. Surveillance efforts to monitor viral evolution in white-tailed deer can help identify emerging variants and further transmission from deer populations into people or domestic animals.

Investigations into related species revealed that the risk of spillback varies. For instance, white-tailed deer and mule deer are highly susceptible to COVID-19 in the lab, while elk are not.

H5N1 and the US dairy herd Since 2022, the spread of H5N1 has affected a broad range of avian and mammalian species around the globe – foxes, skunks, raccoons, opossums, polar bears, coyotes and seals, to name a few. Some of these populations are threatened or endangered, and aggressive surveillance efforts to monitor viral spread are ongoing.

Earlier this year, the U.S. Department of Agriculture reported the presence of H5N1 in the milk of dairy cows. Genetic analyses point to an introduction of the virus into cows as early as December 2023, probably in the Texas Panhandle. Since then, it has affected 178 livestock herds in 13 states as of August 2024.

How the virus got into dairy cow populations remains undetermined, but it was likely by migratory waterfowl infected with the virus. Efforts to delineate exactly how the virus moves among and between herds are underway, though it appears contaminated milking equipment rather than aerosol transmission, may be the culprit.

Given the ability of influenza A viruses such as avian flu to infect a broad range of species, it is critical that surveillance efforts target not only dairy cows but also animals living on or around affected farms. Monitoring high-risk areas for cross-species transmission, such as where livestock, wildlife and people interact, provides information not only about how widespread a disease is in a given population – in this case, dairy cows – but also allows researchers to identify susceptible species that come into contact with them.

To date, H5N1 has been detected in several animals found dead on affected dairy farms, including cats, birds and a raccoon. As of August 2024, four people in close contact with infected dairy cows have tested positive, one of whom developed respiratory symptoms. Other wildlife and domestic animal species are still at risk. Similar surveillance efforts are underway to monitor H5N1 transmission from poultry to humans.

Humans are only 1 part of the network The language often used to describe cross-species transmission fails to encapsulate its complexity and nuances. Given the number of species that have been infected with COVID-19 throughout the pandemic, many scientists have called for limiting the use of the terms spillover and spillback because they describe the transmission of pathogens to and from humans. This suggests that disease and its implications begin and end with humans.

Considering humans as one node in a large network of transmission possibilities can help researchers more effectively monitor COVID-19, H5N1 and other emerging zoonoses. This includes systems-thinking approaches such as One Health or Planetary Health that capture human interdependence with the health of the total environment.

[gauloiseblue]

John Price as a arm candy personal bodyguard

General HQ | Part I | Part II

(Enemy to friend to lover AU)

He never planned to be anyone's bodyguard, but here he is, standing beside his wife like a guard dog

To tell the truth, she doesn't really need his protection, but sometimes there's moment when she becomes a target for black market dealers

She has an extensive collection of antiques, and some of them are priceless

So naturally, it becomes his job to keep them safe as well

It's not really a challenge for him because he's used to keeping the military assets safe. He knows all of the tricks and methods to store them and guard them during transport.

Other than that, his days are mostly filled with domestic kind of life

He'd complete his daily training, practice his rifle skill (mainly for hunting birds or deers), and help her with her work

Although he easily adapted into his new life, he's still not used to living in luxury. He has slept on the wet ground of a forest, used to eating the bland ratios, and lived in constant danger. But now, he gets to live comfortably

To cope with it, he sometimes goes on a camping trip for several days. He prefers to do it alone because he doesn't want his wife to get sick when the weather turns bad.

The only luxury that he allows himself to indulge in is having an expensive cigar

Of course, he does it only moderately. For a reason that his wife hates the smell

Whenever they're invited to a party, she'll book him an appointment for suit fitting. He'd complain to her, saying that he had more than enough suit, but she'd win the argument every time

While they might have different views in life, they share the same frame of mind, and have their desires align. She wants a loyal companion, and he wants to devote himself to the right person

One night, as they lay in bed, breathless and tired, she told him that to love someone is to constantly be disappointed by your partner a million times. She asked him if she had already disappointed him enough, and he told her he never expected her of anything in the first place

He knew that her wife kept a personal note in her drawer, and he only opened it once, when they're on the verge of separation. That was the last time that he ever doubted her, the first time he allowed himself to be fooled by his own feelings

You see, he's always the man with rationality, so to allow himself to be controlled by his heart is almost the same as betraying himself

He never regrets his decision, even to this day

Since he's the only one who's retired, his team would visit him from time to time, if their schedule allows them, that is

Soap would joke that if someone had told him years ago that his captain would settle down with her, he'd laugh at their face, asking them what kind of drug they took

(He said it because they both had a rough start. They hated each other on their first meeting)

While it's common for ex special force member to work as a bodyguard, it's rare for them to settle down with someone, let alone marrying the person they work for

Which makes his story into some kind of legend in the army

He'd roll his eyes at every comment about them, but she found it amusing that people either mock him, or wish to be as lucky as him

Sometimes, when his pride takes over, he reminds himself that arrogance won't lead him anywhere in life

But his love will guide him somewhere. Eventually

[hummingbird24220]

Chapter Thirty Five: The Unbreakable Feral

Nami had reached her limit.

Again.

The leash worked for a few hours. Maybe a day, max. But then?

You started enjoying it. Way too much.

You began leading her.

Wiggling your tail at people on purpose. Jingling the bell like it was your job. Dropping to all fours to chase birds mid-conversation.

And when she tried to discipline you?

You just smiled.

Mocking.

Fluffy.

Untouchable.

“You’re too much,” Nami muttered, sitting at the galley table with her head in her hands.

You were sprawled across the bench next to her, tail lazily flicking, sipping from a juice box you definitely didn’t pay for.

You patted her back gently with one paw.

“There, there,” you said solemnly. “Many have tried. Many have failed.”

She groaned louder.

“It’s not a you problem, Nami.”

You leaned close. Eyes soft. Voice sincere.

“It’s a me problem.”

She just let out a muffled scream into the table.

Zoro had been watching this from the corner of the galley for the last ten minutes.

Silently.

Expression unreadable.

Until finally, without a word, he stood.

Walked over.

Grabbed you by the back of your shirt and pulled you off the bench like a sack of potatoes.

“Wha—HEY! UNHAND ME!”

“You need to be contained,” he muttered, dragging you effortlessly toward the hallway like one might carry an extremely opinionated cat.

“I’m majestic!” you howled. “You can’t tame me!”

“You licked a fork someone was using.”

“It was shiny!”

Nami didn’t stop him.

She gave a thumbs-up from the table.

Zoro brought you to the corner of the Sunny’s hallway, plopped you down on your butt, sat next to you, and threw an arm around your neck in a casual-yet-firm headlock.

“This is now your time out zone,” he said calmly, tightening just enough that you couldn’t wiggle free without effort.

“I don’t believe in consequences,” you hissed.

“You believe in them now.”

“I’m gonna bite you.”

“Try it.”

“I’ll eat your swords.”

He just smirked. “Go ahead. See what happens.”

You huffed. Crossed your arms. Tail slapping against the floor.

He didn’t let go.

Robin passed by at one point and arched an eyebrow. “Ah. Discipline, swordsman-style.”

“She’s too chaotic for standard methods,” Zoro muttered.

You struggled weakly. “I resent that.”

“You defined that.”

She sipped her tea. “Carry on.”

Eventually, you gave up.

And just sat there, trapped in Zoro’s headlock, pouting like a soggy goblin.

“…This isn’t over,” you grumbled.

“Yeah,” Zoro said, tightening his grip just a little. “It kinda is.”

-----

You sulked.

Not in a fiery, "I'm-gonna-bite-a-chair-leg" kind of way.

No.

This was grumpy sulking.

Low energy.

Tail twitching every now and then. Arms crossed. Ears back. A quiet pout of pure indignation.

You’d been sitting in Zoro’s headlock for what felt like a year (ten minutes, maybe), arms pinned loosely to your sides, your pride slowly seeping into the Sunny’s floorboards.

He hadn’t said much.

Just sat beside you, quiet. Unbothered.

Strong.

Stupidly strong.

Like a wall with opinions.

You shifted once.

Twitched again.

And then—you noticed something.

Zoro smelled good.

Like steel and sun.

Like cut wood and old sake.

Like the kind of warmth that sneaks up on you and settles in your bones before you can get mad about it.

You leaned in slightly, testing the air.

Sniff.

Sniff sniff.

He didn’t react.

You sniffed again.

Deeper.

“...You good?” he muttered.

You froze.

Then slouched deeper into his hold, grumbling, “Shut up. I’m recalibrating.”

“By sniffing me?”

“You’re surprisingly not gross. Let me have this.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t shove you off.

Didn’t release you either.

You weren’t sure if it was the hold that was calming you down… or the fact that his shoulder was warm and sturdy and vaguely smelled like a forest that could kill a man.

Either way?

You weren’t mad anymore.

Not really.

Not chaos-fueled. Not ready to bite anyone. Just...

Grumpy. But weirdly okay.

Across the ship, Nami peeked into the hallway, saw you slumped against Zoro like a cat begrudgingly enjoying the sun, and whispered to Robin:

“…He tamed her.”

Robin sipped her tea. “Only temporarily. She���s just recharging.”

Back in the hallway, you let out a soft sigh.

Still trapped in his arm, still grumbling.

“…You smell like a good place to nap.”

Zoro snorted. “Not happening.”

“Rude.”

--

Ever since the Timeout Incident™, your energy had shifted.

Not in a “you’ve changed” kind of way. You were still you—feral, unpredictable, and likely to chew on unattended spoons—but...

You’d calmed. Slightly.

And you’d started doing something new:

Sticking close to Zoro.

Not because you were emotionally attached. Not because he’d headlocked the chaos out of you. But because—

He smelled nice.

You liked the way he carried the scent of sun-warmed metal and cedar and faintly dangerous naps. It was calming. Like resting in the arms of a murder tree.

So you followed him.

Not closely. Just… around.

Sat near him during meals. Laid down a few feet away when he trained. Occasionally clung to his back like a sleepy barnacle.

No one dared say anything.

Except one person.

Sanji.

He noticed. Oh, he noticed.

And he was not having it.

“She’s following him now?” Sanji said, gesturing wildly with a dish towel. “Him?! He smells like sweat and iron filings!”

You paused from where you were perched nearby, curled up on a barrel beside Zoro.

You sniffed.

Zoro glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t.”

Sniff.

You grinned. “Still good.”

Zoro groaned and went back to his stretches.

Sanji stormed over, tie fluttering in the breeze. “Excuse me?! I smell better.”

You blinked.

Head tilted.

“Prove it.”

Sniff test: initiated.

You stepped up to Sanji, leaned in, and gave him a long, thoughtful sniff.

Left side. Right side. One dramatic inhale at his collarbone.

He stood frozen. Red in the ears. Utterly, tragically vulnerable.

And then—

You blinked.

“...Oh.”

“What?” he asked, still locked in place.

“You smell amazing.”

Sanji tried to play it cool. He did. He tried.

But he melted on the spot.

Without warning, you latched onto him like a koala.

Full-body grip. Legs around his waist. Arms over his shoulders. Face buried in his neck.

“Mine now,” you declared, tail swaying smugly.

Sanji made a noise that could only be described as “nervous fluster explosion.”

Robin casually turned a page in her book. “New attachment phase?”

Zoro snorted from the deck. “She just likes smells.”

“Shut up,” Sanji muttered, holding you like a panicked gentleman carrying an expensive cat.

You wiggled happily in his arms.

“I’m starting a collection,” you purred. “Sword boy. Smoke boy. Who’s next?”

“You are not adding Brook,” Nami said from somewhere above.

So now you had two scent-points of comfort.

One grumpy swordsman you clung to like a heated rock.

And one blushing chef who smelled like herbs, smoke, and suffering.

Life was good.

---

It started innocently.

You were sprawled across the deck, tail flicking, content in your role as the Sunny's unofficial sniffer-in-chief. Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji were arguing nearby (as usual), and someone—probably Luffy—asked the fateful question:

“Okay but who smells the best?”

A silence fell across the deck like a dramatic fog machine had rolled in.

You slowly sat up, ears perked, eyes sharp.

You were born for this.

Contestants:

1. Luffy Scent: Meat grease, sunshine, and that undefined smell of someone who naps in weird places. Notes of grass stains, sea salt, and reckless joy. You sniffed him once. “You smell like adventure and dropped food.”

He grinned. “Awesome!”

2. Zoro Scent: Sun-warmed metal, sweat, old wood, a hint of sake, and danger naps. You gave him a serious sniff test (which he endured like a disgruntled statue). Conclusion: “You smell like a sword that learned how to nap.”

“…Not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment,” he muttered.

“It’s both.”

3. Sanji Scent: Smoked herbs, citrus, clean linen, and faint cologne. Also: simmering frustration and romantic delusions. You clung to him for an extended sniff session. For science.

“You smell like a flirty fireplace.”

He turned red and had to sit down.

4. Nami Scent: Perfumed soap, tangerine zest, subtle spice, and gold lust. You cautiously approached her. She let you sniff her hair—barely.

“You smell like money and murder.”

Nami: “As I should.”

5. Chopper Scent: Sweet mint, bandages, crushed flowers, and antiseptic. You gave him a careful sniff on the head. He squeaked.

“You smell like a first aid kit in springtime.”

“I DON’T KNOW IF THAT’S GOOD OR BAD.”

6. Robin Scent: Old books, jasmine, ink, quiet storms, and existential danger. You sniffed her sleeve. It felt sacred.

“You smell like a library that knows your secrets.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

7. Franky Scent: Oil, sea breeze, coconut shampoo, and unfiltered chaos. You climbed on his arm and gave him a curious once-over.

“You smell like a beach that exploded.”

Franky: “SUUUPER accurate!”

8. Brook Scent: Polish, tea leaves, ancient wood, and death—but like, polite death. You sniffed his coat (because he had no skin). Very dusty.

“You smell like a haunted ballroom.”

Brook: “Yohohoho! Most flattering!”

And then.

Everyone turned to you.

You grinned. Wiggled. Stretched your arms wide.

“I smell the best.”

Zoro squinted. “That’s bold.”

You sniffed your arm.

Then your tail.

Then your shoulder.

“See,” you said proudly. “I’ve touched all of you. Sat in your laps. Stolen your food. Rubbed against your legs. Been carried. Snuggled. Bathed by at least three of you.”

You stood tall, smug and fluffy.

“I smell like all of you. I win.”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Then Robin clapped.

Sanji looked scandalized.

Zoro grumbled something like, “She’s not wrong…”

Luffy laughed. “SHE SMELLS LIKE FRIENDSHIP!!”

You purred, tail curling in triumph.

“Exactly.”

[quirkyfries]

Just heard an audio that reminded me of Ruin, but it's on TT by doofguyva, he has a YT channel, but it isn't there last I checked

i could drop a link you could put in the web so you can hear it yourself if your interested, since you analyze Ruin a lot. If you don't want to go through the effort/can't access TT here's what was said:

"oh my child, my poor, poor child. Do you not understand yet? You were never meant to be happy. You will only destroy, and burn everything around you. Everything you care about, will return to cinder and ashes. That is your destiny."

I see it as Nao mocking Ruin in the "child" bit personally, but do with this as you will

Ooh yeah Nao would belittle Ruin like that. My poor child, the world is large and scary, are you sure you want to go outside? My sweet child, what if you break your heart? Stupid child, you got yourself burnt, and who do you have to blame? I told you so.

It’s not meant to humiliate Ruin more than it is just simply undermining his intelligence. A bird in a cage that does not know it could fly dies happy in that cage. It would be easier for Ruin to nod along and do as Nao said. Nao had to resort to other methods of keeping Ruin in line because he wasn’t affected by the virus, convincing Ruin that he was never meant for anything else could be part of that—and it stuck with Ruin for years after the fact.

(At least, it is in my head. Headcanon land is my happy place. I like to think that Ruin has a dissociative disorder rooted in cognitive dissonance.)

Thanks for the ask!!

[ms-scarletwings]

Other people: *mocking the assumed foolishness and negligence of Clockwerk to knowingly pull a Batman’s parents on Sly Cooper* *complaining about what is assumed to be a cheap writing excuse to explain Sly’s survival of the Fiendish’s Five’s attack on his home*

Me: But actually? No? It wouldn’t have been smarter on Clockwerk’s part to “finish the job” with Sly back then. Clockwerk pigeonholed himself into a fruitless job that is not meant to be finished.

Like if you really want to ponder on it, Clockwerk could be forced, in a way, to ensure the continuation of the cooper line, not the end of it. When you define and depend your whole existence on that which you hate, what do you have left when the object of your ire is no more? Clockwork would have died if his hate was ever allowed to diminish or find resolution. He’s like a ghost bound only to his power and body by a single remaining tether, and that tether is the drive to tread on the grave of the Cooper Clan’s legacy.

He doesn’t loathe them personally, he hates everything they represent and stand for, because he once envied it to the point of madness. That’s why he sundered the Thievious Raccoonus and left our Cooper untouched. He told you so himself. Notice how coincidentally the attack was timed on the very day Sly was meant to inherit the book? It was all about letting the boy learn what it meant to be a Cooper and then ripping away from him the access to everything his ancestors learned and built to help him carry that torch.

This gamble of his, this experiment he planned out that involved letting Connor’s son escape the slaughter, that’s the way he keeps himself going while staring down the barrel of the only real threat to his immortality. Killing them all, he reckoned in his centuries of reflection, wouldn’t fulfill his vendetta. He wanted to prove without any shadow of doubt that there was nothing about the Coopers that made them inherently superior to him- who himself was once only an owl. He was after their reputation. Murder was one of many methods, but complete humiliation was the actual goal. Clockwerk was probably snickering to himself all the way from the volcano for years, giddy at the thought of this child he reduced from the son of a master thief to an orphaned pauper. What he wanted was for Sly to live on… live on and be the last pathetic, miserable shred of the Cooper memory that Clockwerk could compare himself to once he has achieved everything him and the Five had set out to accomplish.

Giving their line the final glory of a tragic and sudden end like that after one unlucky slip of Connor’s vigilance was more than he could stomach. His greatest enemies don’t deserve to be remembered with that honor intact. Had Sly moved on and done literally anything else with his life but successfully take up that mantle and reap revenge, then the bird would have won. He would have never been bothered again by the owl either, I bet. Clockwerk just had to take that (astronomically unlikely) risk to see the boy’s potential through. It’s the only reason that dark force has kept him going literally up to and through the second game.

[silvergolddraco28]

Done For- Roleplay with @sanityisinthemusic

Chapter 2 God of Life

There was a loud knocking early the next morning. "Hey, wake up. I brought breakfast, and I'm supposed to take the cub back with me," a bossy woman's voice called through the door.

Wukong scowled as he got up from the floor having woken up late in the night unable to sleep and decided to simply meditate. He carefully picked up the cub sleeping on the bed and wrapped him up in the Scarlet red scarf once more as a makeshift swaddle. Wukong opened the door partly glad the seal he had used still allowed for those outside to make themselves known after knocking.

A bird demoness was holding a tray of bruised, misshapen, wrinkly fruits and a glass of water. "Open the door already."

“I did,” Wukong replied, taking the tray with ease by his tail while the demoness huffed, taking the cub from his arms with force and carrying the little cub like he was disease-infested.

“Needs a bath before Our Lord sees it.” she huffed. “You are a stable hand today so eat then find the horses you can't miss their stench you smell just like it.”

Wukong scowled. "Don't put him in any kind of deep water. If anything happens to him, you're first." He shut the door, tail wrapping around his leg anxiously. He sighed, picking through to find the least bad fruit and sniffing the water before tentatively sipping it. 'At least this is clean enough. Guess they don't keep bad water around.'

Finishing what little he could, he begrudgingly puts on the stable clothes and walks out to try to find the stables. And take his time doing so.

Eventually, he found his way to the stables taking note of how there was just one stable hand waiting with a pile of tools and a bin. The stable boy grinned. “Well well well if it isn't the Race Traitor finally getting Karma for killing his kind. These are your tools ‘top quality’ for you. You’ll have a full run of the place as the rest of the hands have the day off and our Lord was gracious enough to attach a watching shadow to keep an eye on you.” the stable boy grinned as he explained things.

"I have to do it all myself?" Wukong looked around the stables, frowning. It wasn't small. And with the collar on, he couldn't afford to make clones to help him. "Who decided nobody else was working?"

“Need to know and you are not the one that needs to know. Have a good day cleaning Dirty Monkey.” the demon waved his hand walking past the insulted and slurred at Wukong.

He grits his teeth but ignores the urge to punch the jerk and grab a shovel. Today was going to be a long, long day.

‘White, black, brown, mixed repeat.’ Wukong thought as he moved each horse methodically out of their stalls to a small pasture to wait while he cleaned out the old straw and any manure. He was able to get through about twenty horses until a shadow clone of the Shadow Lord popped up from the closet shadow with a fussy and hungry Cub.

"How is your first day on the job, Stable Boy?" The Shadow Lord approached, doing his best to hold the squirming little cub in his arms without squeezing too hard. "Afraid you're going to need to take a break so you can do your second job."

“Peachy. Twenty-five horses down.” Wukong replied heading over to a buck of clean water and washing off his hands before returning to collect the fussy cup opening part of his uniform up to allow Mk access to his breast.

"Fo think you were capable of labor. Wonder how you'll handle the rest of the jobs that were lined up for you?" The Lord mused, smirking.

“I’ll see what is in store if today is going to be on repeat for the remainder of my stay.” Wukong flatly stated. “Whose idea was it to send all the stable hands away and leave just me alone?”

"Oh come now, you're the Great Monkey King! Great Sage, Loyal Pet of Heaven." The Lord spread his arms wide, a mocking tone in his voice. "You shouldn't need the help of demons for a few basic chores."

Wukong scowled but didn't comment on the slander of his titles. “Fine if that's how it will be then surely the Lord of Shadows can manage to feed the young Cub on his own. You have your milk.”

"Oh dear, I didn't think the Great Monkey King would even abandon his cub." The Lord sighed dramatically before stepping forward, hands reaching for the cub. "Well give him here then, I'll just raise him myself."

Wukong turned his body away with a small growl. “Over my corpse.”

"That can be arranged." Shadows shot out from under Wukong, wrapping around his legs and dragging him to his knees. Macaqur grabbed his hair and pulled it back as he knelt behind him. "Don't say things you don't mean, you're not in any position to be uncooperative."

Wukong grits his teeth as the cub finishes, getting taken by the Shadow Lord and disappearing into the shadows with Wukong being released. “Shit…” Wukong cursed to himself while golden tears pooled in his eyes and dropped to the ground.

()()()()()

Wukong hissed as he stretched himself out from the grueling week of labor and acted as the Lord’s personal messenger bird when he had accidentally shifted into a hawk after breathing in too much dust and sneezing one of the minor and annoying side effects of his powers.

Today was the day he would be ‘training’ with the guards and he already knew they had something rather bold planned from their smirks whenever he passed a guard over the past week.

‘Something worse than just labor will happen today… I just know it.’ Wukong thought as he dressed in the training garb.

"Hey, let's get going already. Can't train without the punching bag." Someone laughed outside of the room after banging on the door. "Or what, the Great Sage just scared to fight without his powers?"

Wukong scowled at the insult as he opened the door getting grabbed by the shoulders and held in a rather tight headlock that was making him see spots as air was denied to his lungs.

"Wow, you're as weak as everyone's been saying, huh traitor?" The wolf demon growled out in amusement as he started dragging the Sage toward the training yard like that. "Training's gonna be fun."

“We got to put him in armor first! It should be coming right out of the forge any second piping hot and ready to be molded right into the Traitor’s skin.” Another pipped up grinning.

"Let's not bother with the training weapons today. We need more practice with the real thing, right?" Another piped up.

“Get the good ones that can even cut through Dragon scales.”

"Enough, all of you!" The bear demon whom Wukong had met on his first day roared. The field went silent, and the knights all straightened. "I understand you're all looking forward to today, but keep in mind this is still training. Focus!"

Wukong managed to break from the grasp around his neck rubbing at the dark and ugly bruise rapidly forming under the thin fur from the last week of pure stress and labor.

"Heads up." Was the only warning the big bear gave before tossing a wooden staff at Wukong. "I expect you to put your all in today. Your combat skills are well known and I want my troops to be ready for if real threat like you get in traitor." He pointed a finger toward a pile of armor. "That should be about as much armor as you normally wear. You don't stop today until I tell you to stop, got it?"

“Yes Sir,” Wukong replied neutrally heading over to the pile of old and weak armor. None of it would give him any protection at all so he sighed and turned away from the armor testing the training staff in his hands. ‘This will break if I try to hit anyone with it with my full strength.’ Wukong grimaced at how all the odds were stacked against him.

"Alright everyone, warmups are over. We're starting with one on one spare and then groups can try their hand. Everyone line up, I'll be choosing who's going when." The large bear called from in front of a ring of packed dirt, flattened out from hundreds, maybe thousands of sparring matches. He looked at Wukong and pointed to the circle. "Get ready traitor. My soldiers don't hold back."

“I don't expect them to,” Wukong replied as he entered the center of the circle and took a relaxed stance with the wooden staff angled against his side and back.

One after another, the bear sends in warriors for Wukong to fight. The moment one is knocked down, another fight starts. The bear just keeps calling out names.

This keeps going until one soldier gets a lucky hit… a sword right into Wukong’s gut spilling bright golden blood onto the dirt and making it shake and crack as thick greenery sprang to life sucking up the blood as Nature reacted to one of its being harmed.

You dare harm a Sage of Nature’s Chosen Vessel! The earth seemed to rumble with waves of angry energy rippling up from deep underground.

"HALT!" The bear demon roared as the demon who'd successfully stabbed Sun Wukong staggered backward, leaving his sword behind. Several others had been rushing forward when the command froze them in place. The bear lifted his great head. "My Lord! Your presence is needed at the training grounds!"

A neat instant later the shadow of the bear darkened, seeming to open. The bear stayed perfectly still as the Shadow Lord Macaque stepped out of his portal.

He only took a moment to take in the scene before he strode forward and ripped the sword from the King's stomach, using his shadows to block the wound. "Call for the medics, we'll need to treat him." At his calm order, the knights rushed to action. Macaque knelt on one knee in front of the wounded king, ignoring the blood soaking into his robes. "You'll be treated. Now calm the Earth's magic."

“Careful there… don't get that on your skin or risk being immortal,” Wukong warned with a weak smirk as he placed his hand on the gold blood-soaked ground causing his skin and fur to shift into magma-like stone with golden veins and bright gold-tinted bronze fur up towards his elbow while his eyes turned a solid green-tinted gold.

:I’m fine, Old One. Just paying back old dues for my reckless youth and being judged by a Vessel of Shades.: Wukong ‘spoke’ to the earth ignoring the pain coming from the shackle on his other wrist while the wound on his stomach knit closed with not a trace behind.

Macaque hummed. "I'll keep that in mind." He stood, his robes still tinted gold. "Once the medical team has checked you over and you've had some time, we need to talk."

“I'm fine. I don't need a healer and I can come with you now to talk without making you wait.” Wukong stated.

"More worried about what a healer might find, or what I might say to others?" Macaque raised an eyebrow.

“Bad experiences with healers in the past,” Wukong stated with a voice devoid of emotion.

"Very well then, your loss." Macaque looked at his warriors. "Clean this place up and get back to training." He ordered. The Bear demon nodded shapely and started shouting orders.

Macaque dropped them through a portal into his living quarters, where a shadow clone was rocking a sleeping cub. "Sit down wherever you'd like." Macaque walked over to the clone, gently taking the cub from it as it disappeared.

Wukong simply took a seat in a comfy-looking chair curling up in his soft fabric and plush feeling material that soothed some of his aches and pains. “What is it you wish to speak to me about unless it's just because of that minor accident in the training field,” Wukong questioned.

"I wouldn't call that minor, personally." Macaque takes a seat on the couch opposite Wukong, leaning back to let the child rest more comfortably on his chest. "What exactly are you, Sun Wukong?"

“What everyone thinks I am. A fool of a monkey that takes any and every blame without question and fulfills the tasks of righting the blame.” Wukong shrugged. “That is my life. If you want the real answer I suggest you use a nine-ring privacy seal. Not many know beyond Life and Nature.”

Macaque frowned slightly before sighing. "That will take a moment, though within my domain it feels excessive. I would know if anyone was listening." Still, the Shadow rises to his feet and approaches the King. "Are you in any shape to hold the cub, or will another of my shadow clones be required? He only tolerates them for so long."

“I can hold him,” Wukong assured taking the cub with a soft and happy rumble from his chest while his tail wagged in joy.

Macaque nodded, leaving the King with his cub as he began the arduous process of creating such an intensive seal. He used his magic to cover everything throughout the room, taking great care in the process. When he'd finally finished the setup, he called upon his shadow magic that was within the runes. They flared a bright purple. "Done." He went back to his seat. "Are you satisfied with this? Will you answer the question now?"

“Tell me what you know and I will fill in the rest.”

He hummed. "You have a strong connection to the earth. It seemed to react to your blood. It almost felt as though the earth wanted to swallow the training grounds. Your blood also has the power to turn someone immortal purely by being absorbed into the skin, which I've never heard of. And that sort of golden blood I believe to be associated with the highest levels of divinity, which is odd when you were a demon last I checked."

“I might be called a demon because of my eyes but I fall neither under the realm of demon nor celestial. I'm the Primordial Monkey of Stone one of four beings that fall outside of the natural order of the world.” Wukong stated.

"So you are the Stone Monkey." Macaque tilted his head studying him for a moment. Then he placed his hand on his chest. "I am also one of the primordial beings, the Six-Eared Macaque who can hear past, present, and future. But my blood does not flow gold or have such power as yours does, so that does not answer my question."

“The title of Sage comes with the connections to the natural elements especially when one like myself has spent a long time alone in on an island cut off from human interference. As for why my blood is as good as my fur? The result of eating an orchard’s worth of immortal peaches several barrels of immortal wine and a few bottles of immortal pills that were then cooked inside of me over nearly fifty celestial days. My blood didn't fully change until several years after I finished my task from Bubhha. Numa then claimed me as a Vessel of Life and her blood child.”

"So your connection to the earth is similar to my connection with the wind. I can understand that much at least. I'm impressed you kept much of this quiet enough that even the winds didn't pick up on it to share with me." He leaned back further onto the couch, crossing his legs. "I can see why you'd worry about this getting out. If the wrong people managed to capture you the way I have, they'd do far worse than what's happened to you during your stay here."

“That’s just the tip of the ice. While my blood can turn someone immortal it has to be pure blood otherwise it's a very powerful healing ‘potion’ when mixed with anything else and consumed. My blood also creates fruit-bearing trees of immortality when intentionally spilled on the soil. My blood can also be used as a substitute for runic ink.” Wukong listed off.

"You're comfortable telling your captor all of this?" Macaque asked, raising an eyebrow at the stone monkey.

“The Wind has been listening since the start. They control information the best and if you are their interpreter then it would only be a matter of time before you had found out on your own.” Wukong replied as he habitually brought his wrist up to his mouth and bit down drinking his blood to supplement the missed lunch and breakfast and to wake himself up from falling into a healing slumber.

Macaque raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

“Eating. Most of my food has been rotten or already eaten by the time it gets to me so I need to get creative. Even an immortal has natural limits they can't ignore for long.” Wukong replied.

Macaque hummed, glancing from Wukong to the cub in his arms. "And you're still able to produce enough milk off of little more than blood?"

“More or less.” Wukong shrugged.

Macaque sighed. "I'll have a word with the kitchen staff about at least keeping you well enough fed that the cub isn't at risk. I doubt it will do anything for the rumors they try so hard to hide from me, but there's little that can be done about that."

“What like the Dirty Monkey and the Mud Monkey insults or the whore and prostitute slurs? I nearly punched someone for slapping my ass while cleaning the palace and nearly castrated another for trying to order me into their bed.” Wukong vented looking a bit flush in the face.

"You're close with the second one," He admitted, but I doubt you'd hear this one with how quietly they whisper it. They're convinced your cub in mind and that you came to demand what I did in protecting you and 'our' cub from your many enemies." He paused. "Though that is where a lot of the rumors are of you being an easy lay."

Wukong snorted at that. “I’d castrate anyone before they dared to have me in bed and even then I've punted many that tried to take my hand by force,” Wukong stated as he nuzzled Mk his tail curling around him while his eyes grew rather heavy. He didn't last much longer as he finally crashed curled up in the soft chair and deep sleep while holding Mk close in a protective yet gentle hold while a gentle yet heavy lavender-smelling breeze played with his mane.

Macaque studied the god sleeping in his sitting room. "By the 10 Kings, I've captured a god." He couldn't say if this was worth the trouble, but they'd need to be a bit more careful with him from now on. He couldn't afford for anyone else to realize the truth.

Macaque stood from his seat and dismissed the barrier. He silently opened the large window in his sitting area, letting the wind rush in and take th secret so the day back out with it, snippets of the conversation he'd just had rushing past his ears, lightening the heavy atmosphere. "My friend, you've been keeping secrets from me again. So send my secrets high, higher than any bird could ever hope to fly, and never bring it back down." The wind fluttered his hair, pushed past his ears, and then it passed.

He turned back around, leaning against the window frame as he studied his captive and the cub tucked in his arms that seemed to share their attributes somehow. "Now, what to do with the two of you."

The wind flowed back into the room with soft giggling echoing in the wind as it whispered of things yet to come.

”Baba! Put me down!” a child’s voice laughed.

“Moon you're going to make Mk too hyper to put to bed on time.” the amused voice of Wukong chuckled. “Why don't you put on a shadow play about how you became a God of Souls to balance my status as a God of Life?”

Macaque sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening as he continued to stare at the two others in the room. "What?" He walked over to the two, kneeling in front of them. "But that's not possible..."

It's not as though he couldn't admit the Monkey King was handsome, but he had few friends, particularly within his territory. He frowned, eyeing the cub. Slowly, he reached out and ran his fingers over the little one's ears. 'If what Wukong said I'd true, that future is likely to change if they leave the island.' Having Wukong as his partner would bring too much danger to his kingdom. It would be a huge risk.

The wind swirled around him again bringing another set of whispers.

”Put him down, Azure! This is between you and me leave my Cub out of this! You got what you wanted now let Mihou out of that Soul Lantern!” Wukong’s voice seemed to ring with protective rage. While a cub’s cries rung in the background.

“You know I can't do that Brother. Not if I intend to make you my Empress and keep the competition away. Pitty how you found a monkey just like yourself in power to join you on the mountain yet so uninformed of your proper potential.”

A low growl rumbled in his throat. 'Azure... Azure Lion? I've heard the name, did he crawl out of the Diyu after Wukong killed him? They were in that brotherhood together.' He took his hand back and began to pace. He'd never allow someone to lay a hand on his lantern. He'd sooner kill Azure on sight. 'But why would I leave my home for Flower Fruit Mountain?' He froze, going back to the window. "I won't allow them to destroy my island. Come for me if you dare Azure Lion, or whoever else might be coming. I'll rip you to shreds." He vowed to the wind.

This place of too small for you. Your growth has stunted. You’ll grow far more and far stronger out beyond this barrier with the Vessel of Life. The wind soothingly ‘spoke’ to the black monkey. This Kingdom has stilted. It's arrogance has been shown. They call the Vessel of Life a traitor when the Vessel was tortured to turn against those who would not understand his bleeding heart nor hear his grief and suffering. The Gods judged him, the demons damn him and the mortals respect him… but none love him.

Macaque hummed, tail flicking uncertainty. The wind has always advised him toward what was best for him. But this was asking a lot of him. "You ask Mr to give up everything I've built for myself, for the sake of the one being in the three realms with no allies, only admirers, and a long list of bitter enemies." He sighed. "We shall see how things go. I trust your council, but if I take a mate it will be because I respect them, not for power." He smiled at nothing. "You have been good to me already in that department."

He closed the window, ending the conversation for now before turning back to the pair. His eyes softened as they landed on the little monkey. He sighed, approaching Wukong to take the cub from his sleeping form. A blanket fell through a portal, resting over the Sage's sleeping form as the dark monkey cradled the cub that shouldn't look so much like him. "Rest, God King, your cub is safe with me." He went to sit, and as an afterthought, he sent a shadow to collect him some sort of lunch. Enough for two.

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Augusnippets Day 20

Path of Comfort Prompt; Alt. "Gentle Touch"

Day 20 of @augusnippets August 2024 Whump writing challenge! (Augusnippets Masterlist)

Characters;

- POV: Lancelot - The Weeping Monk

- Caretaker: Gawain - The Green Knight

(Character Masterlist)

(Ao3 Link)

Wordcount; 607

TWs; Tending to wounds, referenced self-flagellation, lashings

"I can help, if you'd like?"

Lancelot looked up to see Gawain standing at the entrance of their tent. Too preoccupied attempting to fold himself like an origami bird in order to salve the wounds on his back, he hadn't noticed the Green Knight's approach.

"I can... do it..." Lancelot huffed, cheeks flaming in embarassment at being caught like this.

Gawain held his hands up in mock surrender, ducking past him further into the tent. Lancelot heard the telltale signs of water being poured into the washbasin, the methodical scrape of knife against cheek as the Knight began to shave.

After several more minutes of wishing he had eyes in the back of his head, or perhaps that he could detatch one of his arms, Lancelot had managed to smear salve on approximately four-and-a-half of the lashings, as well as into his hair somehow and all up one of his arms.

Lancelot sighed, raising his eyes to the heavens in a silent plea for mercy, glancing back when he heard the knife thud softly as Gawain placed it down and stood.

"Let me."

Lancelot sighed again, but begrudingly nodded permission, willing himself to relax though he found it nigh on impossible. It was strange, he thought, the difference in how willing he was to hurt himself unhesitatingly, yet waiting for pain given by another had him arguably more nervous.

As anticipated, Gawain's touch was indeed painful. Lancelot couldn't help but tense to keep still despite trying not to react at all.

Lancelot was, by nature, intimately familiar with pain. This sensation at a base level was indeed the same as ever, yet it had a depth to it most unlike anything he had experienced before, the gentleness of how Gawain tended to him... 

It was oddly comforting. Soothing even.

"Gods, I wish all my patients were as well behaved as you are..."

"Well... behaved?" Lancelot repeated slowly, raising an eyebrow.

Gawain chuckled behind him.

"Aye. They never stay so bloody still."

Lancelot heard a distinctly impressed note in Gawain's voice, unable to resist closing his eyes to the feel of Gawain's soft but sure touches. Unbidden, he wondered if Gawain had a lover somewhere. He'd certainly revealed nothing of himself despite being tortured, yet it felt too personal a question for Lancelot to ask, so he remained silent. He knew Fey had odd customs, not least that it made no difference to most if one was man or woman, or even both, neither, or somewhere in between. Perhaps his lover was a man, given the ease with which his hands roamed Lancelot's back...

"Is it nice where you are?" Gawain asked, mildly.

"I- What?" 

"Is it nice? In your thoughts. You look very... lost in them." 

Lancelot didn't have an answer for that, but gave a wry laugh all the same. Usually, the answer was a quite definite no. Sometimes he'd rather be anywhere but in his own head.

In this instance he certainly had zero intentions of admitting he'd been pondering whether or not the Green Knight was single... Yet the way in which he'd spoken suggested Gawain may have guessed at their subject. 

You're just being paranoid now...

Now that his mind had gone down this particular road, he couldn't deny Gawain's gentle touch was beginning to set a fire through his veins, something else he daren't say. He bit back an involuntary groan as pain mingled with pleasure.

"Sorry, Ashman."

Lancelot smiled slightly at the apology, as unneeded as it was it was nice of Gawain to offer it. Perhaps if he focused on the pain, it would stop his traitorous mind from wandering...

Whoops, posted this one REAL early, yes I was meant to put it in my drafts for tomorrow when I'm at work, no, I did not in fact click "save to drafts"... oops.

An alternate prompt because I was really struggling to write for the given prompts, but I had two ideas I couldn't pick between for Day 23 so I wrote one of them for today!

As always, thanks for reading, onto the next!

[bluerogueanna]

Another way I write my stories and ideas is by abusing my computer's basic notepad program. The poor thing has seen some nasty stuff, incomplete ideas and unoriginal ideas. My laptop died with a dozen or so unfinished stories. And while most of this I just write for fun, to read on my own when the WiFi is down or wathever, I have done some fairly interesting things on my computers.

Recently I also started doing some 3D models, inspired by great people here that do great low-poly stuff that resembles the 64 and 128 bit era of games I love so much. I'm still finding my own style but I love doing little 3D fellows, it's addicting. But that's a post for another day, today I just wanted to share some quick basic ideas I've been thinking about. I wanna post them here but like with the rest, I just wanna make sure they're readable. Like with my blog, I tend to ramble and go on tangents while writing my stories.

In a way, I do it for myself to give me a nice guide for when I eventually draw the characters and worlds. But wathever I end up writing or not, I always think of how it would look like for someone else if they were reading it online or on a magazine, stuff like that.

I'll share the stories in greater detail sometime next week, but here are the basic general ideas for these three stories. I'm quite proud of them and I even made tons of reference art for them. For one in particular I even made mock-ups for the protagonists as characters for a romhack/mod I'm constantly working on.

Enough rambling, I think.

The first story I wanted to share is about a "Witch" who recently moved out to a newly bought cabin by the mountains. Sorrounded by trees, wildlife and caves, the woman wanted to research nature by directly living around the beings she wanted to document and write extensive reports on. The world she lives in is full of interesting beings, magic and creatures of all sizes. She hopes to become an important figure in the world of scientific advancement and ecological preservation efforts. As soon as she has moved all her gear and notes, a corvid of some kind makes a nest within her home. She makes them her first subject and begins taking notes on the little bird's life, its diet and behaviour. She can't help but become friends with the bird as it builds a family right by her bedroom window. She expected the change in her life to lead to a peaceful and reclusive existence. But she would get more and more visits, some becoming permanent residents within her increasingly constricted home. Ever the optimist, the "Witch" takes every change as an opportunity to broaden the scope of her research. She would have the chance to closely examine life forms that not many have even seen up-close, while also dealing with sudden changes to what she imagined as a comfortable solitary life.

Next, a story about a strange cult of some sort. In an otherwise quiet and peaceful city, people have noticed strange pamphlets and signs posted all over the many public parks. Some officials call the displays vandalism, the local church calls it heresy and the public thinks it's just some sort of circus or similar performance. In truth, the papers were posted in hopes of recruiting members for a new religion, one where "the true sinners would finally face justice" and claiming to have a place where people would never feel rejected, neglected or abandoned. Where nobody would be taking advantage of their faith or their good will. A place for the people in need to enjoy a decent life. Many citizens dismiss it as some sort of mockery of their own beliefs. But nobody already religious takes it seriously enough to do anything about it. And the few who decide to find the new group to see if they were telling the truth would quickly see that not only was this new religion serious about their mission, but it already had dozens of followers from all over the country. Their devotion perplexed many who didn't understand their convictions or their methods. But anyone interested would witness true justice enacted by a deity who listened to their prayers.

Lastly, a story that touches on sensitive topics and tragedy. A mercenary who has worked her entire life to protect the hides of unsavory individuals gets tired of saving the lives of unworthy people and moves out of the city she grew up in, hoping to find different kinds of clients. On her way to a neighbouring Queendom, she bumps into a girl wearing barely anything other than a hood to cover her face and some sturdy-looking boots. The girl is on her way to a city close to the Queendom and after walking together for a while, she hires the mercenary to escort her safely to her destination. At first, the mercenary just can't understand why she asked for protection. The girl could use magic and was good with a sword. But soon it would become clear that she was being followed. Whoever she was, there were all kinds of creeps out to get her. And she notices none of them want to hurt the girl, they want to take her away alive. And because the mercenary couldn't have worse luck, whenever she did a good deed on her way to the Queendom and was about to be rewarded for her efforts, the girl's attackers would quickly scare away everyone with their violent and vulgar actions. Through her many attempted kidnappings, it was discovered she wasn't royalty, but that she had some kind of rare blood that they wanted to extract out of her. And the mercenary wanted two things out of the girl. She demanded to know what the girl really was and she wanted her to make up for all the rewards she missed out on because of the constant harrassment from her would-be abductors.

Any and all feedback is appreciated. Thanks for reading!

[scribble-dribble-writes]

To save a mocking bird (2)

<<<Prev Next>>>

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Plot: Hux has been captured and taken to the rebel base

Warnings: none

Word count: 1500

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Chapter 2

The landing was a little rough given that Ajan Kloss was a jungle moon with torrential rains and a humid climate. The descent was during a storm with the comfort of the cover of night, with the tracker already destroyed, the First Order could not track their way here. General Hux was very much ‘missing in action’.

Marjorie let down the ramp and went back to the cargo unit to check on her prisoner, although she didn’t quite like calling him that. All this was just an odd intervention of events. He was a learned man but also one wanted for his crimes and for justice to prevail, she had done her part.

He was now seated, his hands on his lap, his eyes covered by his hair but she could tell his gaze was distant. He was seething and scheming, although to everyone else he would look like someone who had lost the will to fight. Having known his rough childhood, she was certain of one thing. He never ran out of his will power and whatever he had now set his mind, he was going to accomplish.

Marjorie approached him carefully, not sure if he had picked up a tool or a metal shard to arm himself. “You are going to pay for what you did.”, he said with such precision without even looking at her.

“Since you are a man of protocol, I wish to inform you that your attempts to escape from here are futile. Your signal will not reach your fleet and neither will you be let out of our sight.”, she responded kindly placing her hand on his cuff gently to check on it but instead he reeled it back like he was a wounded animal.

“Never,”, his eyes found hers and something in her spirit whispered that he belonged to the jungle, a wild cat.

“Touch me.”, he straightened as though he never admitted defeat.

Marjorie put her hands up in defense agreeing to his wishes and he settled.

“I do have to take you to the base.”, she spoke to him. He didn’t care to respond.

“It is also only a while before the rain picks up again.”, she continued and his brows furrowed.

He was annoyed, he wanted a blaster or a grenade or maybe if he had been an unkempt fisherman his nails would have been long and with that he could have…

His eyes found her face, her skin tan like the sun had favoured her to bestow her with colour which he had not been so fortunate to receive, he couldn’t for some reason bear the thought of causing her pain. In all his life and in the brief moment she had interacted with him, she had been the one to speak kindly to him even when he behaved in such ill manner.

“I”, she started softly, her fingers fidgeting with the end of the zipper in her jacket before her dark eyes found his.

“am also afraid of the dark.”, she said plainly but he didn’t need further explanation. It was uncanny and yet in an ironic sense comforting for two enemies to share a similar fear.

The humid air here was causing him to sweat, his uniform was too thick making his neck itch. He wasn’t on his fleet anymore and it wasn’t cold anymore either. It had started to feel warm, reminding him of his planet, of the sun and sea. All this was starting to become painful, more that having been captured because it was making memories resurface that he wasn’t so interested in reliving.

He was here, he had been caught, and there was nothing he could do right this instant. He will have to wait till morning to learn of the methods here to use it to his advantage. So he got up reluctantly, there was no use putting up a fight now and it was then he caught the glimpse of her smile, for the slightest second his mind relished this reward to his action.

Marjorie felt relieved, she hadn’t been home in months and all she wanted to do now was get to her room to have a sleep. So when he stood up, she couldn’t help herself as she smiled at his compliance before coming to realize just how tall he was as he stood next to her.

If she stumbled into his arms, by accident, and if he caught her, by accident, his chin would rest comfortably over her head while her ear would be planted on his chest to listen to the sound of his heart beat. She stepped away and his eyes followed her, he was rumored to not have a heart and she wasn’t too keen to find out. She gestured for him to walk ahead and he did.

Most individuals had been dismissed for the day but the tent was still lit, the one reserved for meetings or gatherings. Marjorie had to do her duty of filing forms of Hux’s capture and get him into a proper cell before she could head home. But as she filled out his details, she was surprised to see him distracted, observing the few who were around them but it was then she noticed the looks he had been receiving, scowling faces greeted him to which he turned away.

“Could you give him a change of clothes and something to eat?”, Marjorie informed the volunteer who stood behind the counter. The woman was hesitant at first, not willing to give him anything having noticed his uniform but Marjorie cleared her throat to remind the woman of her station to which then she complied, passing him a brown worn out aviator jumpsuit.

He was intrigued by her actions. By law, he was a criminal in this base and yet she was taking care of him. He sniffed, what a fool, he thought. Her generosity was going to be her downfall and that tender heart of hers was going to be an easy tool in his hands as he plotted for his escape.

“I will not be wearing that.”, he grumbled but instead she thanked the volunteer, took the uniform and food package to lead him to his allocated cell.

The cell door opened after she slotted the key in it and turned to him to remove his cuffs. The object slid away and his long fingers wrapped around his wrists, making her notice that he was human enough to have irritated skin.

She didn’t have to tell him or instruct him again, he walked in on his own as she stood there by the open door.

“The jumpsuits are more comfortable than what the First Order gives you, besides much more relevant for the climate you are in.”, she folded her arms having placed the supplies next to him. He took a seat to then rest his head against the wall. She was right on this occasion, he needed something to eat and the air was unforgiving to his uniform. But he wasn't grateful for her actions, he was entitled to it. His sole motto was to take, to procure because that was how you accumulate power. He couldn't understand her mannerisms, why she went out of her way to be...

to be gentle? If he was in her shoes, he could bet on the stars that his prisoners would be treated differently.

She observed his calm demeanor and his green eyes taking in her words but she had been right, beneath all the compliance was that anger and hatred. She inhaled deeply as he scrutinized her.

“I know it is not my place and that my words mean nothing to you. But by morning, even after discovering your absence, there will be a new General, commanding a position that you had fought to climb to.”, she explained and there it was, the waver in his eyes, his lips turning into a thin line. It was the truth, he knew it too.

He knew all of it, the hierarchy within the First Order. But some part of him continued to hold out hope. That in someway he was still,

“I am valuable to them, they will send out probes for me.”, he said folding his arms but to his response, she gave him a tired smile as shook her head, her dark long hair contained in a precisely woven braid, as though he was a maniac and maybe he was, because he was contemplating of changing into that hideous outfit.

“Goodnight, General. Hope you have a better time with your assigned officer than you had with me.”, she cooed as she walked away and he almost got up, to wrap his fingers around the cold metal of the cell door, to ask her to not leave. But he didn’t.

That's the thing with kindness and everything good, everytime he allowed himself to relish it in the scarcity he found it, it will always be taken away from him.

“Oh, beware the bugs.”, she said finally and he sat there, slowly pulling his legs to himself sure that his father was laughing from his grave. Because after everything, he was still the same little boy who sat alone in a locked room when all he had strived for was to be seen and yet it was in his story that he always be cast away.

[d-field22-blog]

First Appearance: Man of Steel #3 (November, 1986)

Story: Ever since she was a little girl, Margaret Pye and her parents we're not financially sound, and whenever her mother would bring home even the cheapest piece of jewelry, Maggie was immediately drawn to the shine in which the ring would deliver. Over the years, the fascination for shiny objects would grow and grow, and often whenever her classmates would show off their own expensive jewelry, Maggie would be immediately drawn to the shiny diamonds, and gold necklaces. Often she would attempt to steal them from her classmates, and would often be mocked for her habits and was then called Magpie. The name and habits would only fester when she reached high school, and her skill of thieving would begin to rise. For the entirety of her high school years, she would admire the objects from afar as she would spy on each of her classmates, and would learn their locker combinations. The first piece she would steal was an emerald ring from her school bully, Samantha Johns. Next was a sapphire necklace from Sam's girlfriend Brittany Barrows, and a pair of pearl earrings from Tameka Roberts, and this was only the tip of the Iceberg for Magpie. She would even rob the school board of their shiny valuables; not even the principle's solid gold watch was safe from the Magpie. According to rumor, Pye had acquired nearly 700,000 dollars worth of stolen jewelry and many other objects which shined bright like a diamond. To avoid suspicion from the student body, Margaret had in her trips from school would either steal, buy, or make her own counterfeit jewelry in an effort to fool the victim that what they wore was still their legitimate prize, and if one was to suspect her, she would leave her stolen prize in another student's locker in an effort to throw anyone off of her trail. Most times, those methods worked swimmingly in her favor, until one day Margaret had become to greedy and careless. One hot Monday morning, Margaret was caught with her hand in the cookie jar after being set up by Sam, Brittany, and Tameka who had overheard her bragging to herself about the emerald ring Pye had stolen and witnessed her leaving the office of the city councilor with a pair of silver earrings. falsely spread rumors about a pearl necklace; one of which was so large that it could shine as bright as the sun. In the end, Margaret was met with half of the student body getting their own ounce of revenge, and leaving her beaten, and not only expelled from her high school, but was arrested for thievery and for framing others with the fake replicas. Since then, the obsession would take complete control of her, as she was often seen trying to steal the guards leys, as well as their badges in an effort to claim shiny things again. Most times she would sent to solitary confinement repeatedly. For her, it was a miracle that she had gotten out of prison, while for others it was a curse. For many years later, her old school bully was selling a grapefruit sized moonstone which shinned like the moon in the light. However what Sam and her wife Brittany had not known, was that the night before, ye had stolen the stone and replaced it with another replica, only this time this one was quite deadly. When Sam had set the stone onto the booth for auction, the stone had exploded, killing Sam in the process. All that was left behind in the crime scene was a grieving Brittany, a lone feather from the bird which gave her the name she had long since been cursed to carry, and a bewildered playboy who would eventually seal the thief's fate when the feather would fall right into his hand, and an equally shocked patron who was quite impressed with the crime, and witnessed the feather of the bird and sought to make hire this criminal to his own services.

Real name: Margaret Pye Occupation: Professional Criminal Base of Operation: Gotham City Eyes: Blue Hair: Red, White(wig) Height: 5ft 7n Weight: 120lbs

Attributes: Known for having a compulsion for stealing any object which is shiny. Suffers from both Kleptomania and Shiny Object Syndrome. Uses fakes which not only look similar to the stolen object, but are also known to explode. Harbors a fierce hatred/ rivalry with Catwoman. Skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Uses the custom claws of her design for her endeavors and for combat. High intelligence despite certain circumstances. Often works as both her own agent, but also a well trusted thief of the Penguin.

Dream voice actress: Rachel Matthews.

Featured song: Pretty Shiny Things by Kassi Ashton

Notes:

One of the rogues that I find to be a bit underrated, Magpie totally deserves more respect than she deserves. Well maybe not the older incarnation, but the newer one is a bit cooler. Though writers do use her these days, I'm still waiting for a definitive Magpie story. Plus Batman needs more women in his rogues gallery.

So the design is based in not only the newer take, but also a bit of the classic look in terms of the glasses, belt, and a little bit in her gloves.

I'm gonna have to admit something. I DO NOT like Beware the Batman. I don't like the CGI, 60 percent of the characters designs, like Batman's for example, and I don't like how they used Pyg. I mean I don't know what the hell they did to Lazlo, but that eco-terrorist thing, was not Pyg. He should have just been left alone, and that goes for Anarky too. I mean really. What were they thinking in making him this Batman's arch enemy?! If anyone, it should have been Two-Face. But oh wait, they didn't start using him until near the end of the season/run! Same for Penguin who pretty much got the shaft as a poster and a mere mention. I really hate how the classic rogues got screwed over, and don't even get me started on the whole Joker situation. That is a can of worms all on it's own. But what I did like ewas the updated Magpie design. Though I didn't like how they tried to make her of all people Catwoman of this shoe and those nails. Just why? So that's kind of why I opted for the gloves being the key to her nails, and straight out of her fingers like the mutant from X-Men, whose name escapes me.

Although I do like the updated design they gave to Magpie back in Beware the Batman, I do admit that they should have tones it down. So I went with what you see above.

[quincyhorst]

I return to post again and Tumblr's UI becomes a nightmare. Why.

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Because of his short height, Shine became a victim of constant stigmatizing since childhood. Being seen younger than he actually was (And thus "weaker"), this led to people either mocking him or infantilizing him to an uncomfortable extent. Hating to be always treated either way, for a long while he tried to prove his own worth by any method possible. He'd constantly practice sports to improve his physical skills, he'd always try to do tasks/housechores without help from caregivers or parents, and even within school, he'd always try to study things in advance just so he could have greater notes. This did help to tone things down (Not always), and his parents seemed satisfied over his dedication to studies; but it's true that this routine started to pay a toll on his physical and mental health, which all collapsed entirely in his late adolescence.

When adulthood came and with an entirely different direction on life, plus with a more "acceptable" height, Shine still tried to keep a cool persona within his new university classmates. His way of studying had loosened up a bit since then (Minus when finals are happening), but he kept "masking" many parts of himself to the world.

However, there's many weaknesses to this mask that have persisted no matter the age. And the most common is... Cats. No matter if its in Queensland or Perth, if Shine ever stumbles upon a street kitty, he will inmediately go like "...Pspspspspspspsps...". He just finds them cute, what can I say.

Unfortunately, none of his circumstances have allowed him to have a pet. If it wasn't that his family just really hates pets, he would have adopted so many stray animals. And even later on when residing in grandma Sun's house, neither she has allowed him to bring a creature inside, her excuse being "They will disturb the nearby birds". At least he can give them a temporal residence in the garden, that's a thing...

[ljamberfantasy]

The Elf Who Would Become A Dragon

CHAPTER 26 – Mirrors

The horror that Saphienne and Iolas felt as they watched the spirit leave the circle was joined by terror, both apprentices swiftly backing away from the creature now inhabiting Celaena. That something terrible had happened to their friend was immediately apparent: she moved with stilted clumsiness, as though her legs were new to her, yet carried herself with a relaxed ease that the elf had never before shown, not even when feeding her birds. Her smile stretched too far… and her eyes were the most terrible sight of all, her irises shining with bright, radiant yellow, like a pair of sunflowers.

Stumbling, Iolas nearly tripped over himself as he kept his distance. “Stay back!”

His plea gave the spirit pause, spring flowers clinging to her heels. “‘Stay back,’ you cry? Proposing another?” She advanced on Iolas in time to the rhythm of her singsong voice. “What game should race these hearts together, child? A chase! Or perhaps thou would find cover? A hunt, where we must search throughout the wild?” Her laugh was mocking. “Or should we wilt for thee — as thy lover?”

Paling, Iolas backed away at greater speed.

The spirit took his actions as an answer. “A chase, decided thee. We swift shall seek,” the spirit affirmed, “and thou shalt flee. A race — against thy shriek!”

Saphienne heard Almon whispering to himself, and turned in time for the Second Sight to reveal orange light flaring around him as he spun and dragged a second, tighter circle in the gravel. She knew at once that an Abjuration spell defended him — but only him, the wizard leaving no room for Saphienne or Iolas.

He saw her expression, and his forced smile was cold. “You were all warned. I told you — I won’t prevent you from doing anything dangerous, only temper the harm.”

She bared her teeth. “You said the spirit was friendly to elves.”

“And so the spirit is.” He folded his arms. “I assure you: were the spirit unfriendly, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“What has she done to Celaena?”

“A good question.” He peered over her head, to where Iolas was pursued by the spirit. “Iolas! What has happened to Celaena? Can you tell, boy?”

Distracted by his master, Iolas was nearly caught when the spirit suddenly lunged toward him. He jumped back, watching as the puppeted body of Celaena fell over onto the gravel, new flora immediately springing up everywhere she touched the ground. “She’s possessed!”

“Possession? What a truly ugly word.” The spirit was offended, and paused to glower up at Iolas after struggling to her knees. “I walk invited, child — my price incurred.”

“Celaena didn’t know what–”

“Show I ye erred; teach I ye fear. Now learn!”

The new blooms around the spirit rose with her as she lunged at Iolas again, but he had anticipated her, and the boy darted aside as she staggered through where he had stood and rounded on him. As Celaena’s face came back into view, both apprentices saw that the flowering verdure had become tendrils that laced all across her skin, longer stalks weaving together to flick and snap in the air about her forearms. Bolstered by the greenery and growing more familiar with the form she inhabited, the spirit stalked after the apprentice at a faster pace.

Saphienne couldn’t look away as she spoke to Almon. “So that’s it? Celaena makes a mistake, and we’ve to suffer the consequences?”

She heard him sigh. “You must deal with the consequences. How you deal with them is your concern.”

“And you’re just going to watch?”

“I will intervene to prevent lasting harm.” His voice grew sombre. “Which is to say, to prevent permanent physical harm.”

Anger made her look at him. “That’s–”

“We can discuss the ethics of this pedagogical method later.” Above the glowing yellow of the spell upon his throat, his expression was calm. “Right or wrong, this teaching method is not of my choosing, and your outrage cannot change the fact that I will not save you from your errors. All that matters now is that Celaena has loosed a spirit.” He stared at his apprentice. “What are you going to do about it, Saphienne?”

For the briefest moment, she caught a flicker, something there in his gaze–

“Saphienne!”

Iolas had retreated between the flowerbeds, and was actively dodging the spirit, who reached for him with ever quicker grabs that lengthened into whipping vines with her rising laughter.

Saphienne looked down, and closed her eyes.

“Saphienne! A little help?!”

Almon had intimated there was a way to deal with the spirit. He wouldn’t have stressed that Saphienne had a choice, were none available to her. This meant that the answer to their predicament lay within reach, though not obviously, or he would have mocked her for not knowing what to do. The answer was therefore inferable — from things that Almon knew she had observed, or perhaps could observe.

Yesterday’s lessons came to mind. If the disciplines of Invocation and Conjuration used to be confused, did that mean they followed the same rules?

Opening her eyes, she studied the circle in the gravel where the spirit had been invoked, then called out to Iolas. “Iolas! Break the circle!”

“How will that help?” He threw himself under the coiling arms of the spirit and scrambled toward the circle.

Desperately, she rushed her explanation. “Something conjured where it can’t exist needs a spell to support it! If the spirit can’t–”

“Got it!”

Iolas needed no further explanation, and raced for the loop their master had traced in the gravel, which glittered with golden light under the vision of the Second Sight. As the spirit shambled after him, he ceased his retreat, and instead kicked at the gravel, breaking the circle–

And caused the golden light to at once dim, the spell collapsed.

“A reasonable conjecture,” Almon admitted… but his tone was wry.

The spirit drew to a writhing halt before Iolas. “Clever children! But that is not the way. No bond was forged — no spell lets me here stay. My passage made, from circle I could stray.”

She giggled as she watched his blood run cold, and pointed with spiked, blackthorn fingertips to the woodland. “Fly now! Away thou! Race that I may chase thy pretty face across the wooded vale! Thy elven grace permits relentless pace to flee this place — so run! Run thou, and flail!”

What else could Iolas do? He ran, sprinting, and the path she indicated sent him across one of the flowerbeds that had been planted in the garden — where he immediately stumbled and tripped, falling heavily onto the blooms–

Which also rose up, covering him like a swelling river, threading his robes with white roots that twined and green stalks that curled, pulling him back down as he tried to stand.

Iolas cried out in panic as the spirit rambled toward him, but the more he struggled, the more firmly he was held in place, utterly at the mercy of the laughing fiend that wore his friend like a gown.

Saphienne began to panic too, more fearful for Iolas’ safety than she ever was for her own, and she wrung out her mind for anything else she could remember as she watched the monstrously overgrown flowerbed surge and lift him toward the spirit.

Yet Saphienne hadn’t been taught anything about spirits, and Almon hadn’t even explained the spells he had cast when he prepared to call forth the–

Turning, she looked at the Conjuration spell that encircled the wizard’s throat — a spell that he hadn’t needed, for he was able to speak the tongue of sylvan creatures. He had said the spell was for demonstration. But what was he demonstrating to them?

“Celaena! Celaena, please!” Iolas’ voice was tight, his throat constricted.

“Sing thee her name! Unfold like bloom from bud your cries, through lips of frightened flesh and blood–”

Saphienne stepped forward and threw up her hands. “Spirit of the woodlands!”

And the spirit paused.

Taking a deep breath, Saphienne marked a crude circle in the gravel with her shoe, frantically trying to remember the words that Almon had used. “Fair and sylvan, friend… and judge — come you now unto this circle, wound… in bond of peace, in accordance with the ancient ways!”

Turning to watch her, the spirit only stared.

Still, she plunged on. “Spirit of the woodlands! Heed my cry, heed our need — come you now into this circle, wound… that it might teach, in accordance with your ancient ways!”

Behind the spirit, Iolas gasped as the flowerbed began to release him — and his breath broke the tension of the moment, the spirit starting toward the circle that Saphienne had prepared as the hungering thicket wilted and dropped away from Celaena’s skin.

Unsure whether the spirit was toying with her, but committed no matter the outcome, Saphienne finished the rite. “Spirit of the woodlands! Tread the trod, stride the way — come you forth within this circle, wound that you might reach, in accordance with our ancient ways!”

And the spirit stepped into the circle, and sank down, squatting on her haunches.

“Well done,” Almon murmured.

The spirit grinned, once more looking like Celaena — save for her yellow eyes. “But what shall hold us here? What shall thou do? What can thou give? Why a circle thou drew?”

Lowering her arms, Saphienne knelt down before the ragged circle. “You want to play games? Then I’ll play a game with you.”

“What game? Through what rough play would thou break sweat?”

Her eyes flicked to where Iolas was picking himself up. There was no way to compete with the spirit physically, and any game of chance would be blind risk. The only hope she had was that the spirit was willing to talk…

Saphienne forced a smile of her own. “A game of words.”

And the spirit laughed sincerely for the first time, a joyful and dreadful sound. “Riddles? Agreed! But I the terms shall set.”

*          *          *

Calming her racing heart, Saphienne beckoned Iolas to join her. “We will abide by fair terms. But if you propose the terms, then we propose the wager.”

Intrigued, the spirit sat, crossing legs that did not belong to her. “Proceed. For what do thou propose this game?”

“Celaena. You will relinquish her if we win.”

“And more: what if ye should then fail? My claim?”

Frightened, Iolas stood some distance away, and when Saphienne met his eyes she saw him waver — then find his courage, his voice hoarse as he spoke up. “What would you ask, spirit?”

“Your service leal – for year and day – I ask.”

Saphienne’s breath caught. She slowly exhaled. “What kind of service?”

“What I will, ye shall do: that be your task.”

Closing the distance, Iolas sat beside Saphienne. “Is she referring to both of us?”

Saphienne nodded. “She’s speaking archaic Elfish. ‘Ye’ means ‘all of you,’ and ‘your’ means ‘belonging to all of you.’ She’s saying if we lose, we both have to serve her whims for a year and a day. ‘Leal’ means ‘honest and loyal,’ so no trying to get out of it, either.”

The spirit inclined her head, smiling serenely.

Their master spoke up. “Though you may find it hard to believe, the spirit is making allowance for your unfamiliarity with old Elfish.” A sceptical look from the pair made him smile. “Truthfully. The ancient ways allow a spirit in Elven form to speak any variant of Elfish. Contemporary Elfish is not obliged.”

Iolas studied the spirit’s stolen face. “I’m willing to wager myself… on the condition that Celaena goes free, even if we lose.” He folded his arms. “Two for one. Double or nothing, for you. That’s a fair wager, isn’t it?”

The spirit looked expectantly at Saphienne.

Who reached into her robe, and drew out the drawstring pouch that Kylantha had made, and took out the coin, and clenched it in her hand until it hurt. “If it’s good enough for Iolas… then for Celaena, I’ll play. Propose your terms, spirit.”

Satisfied, the spirit nodded. “A wager fair. I must and do agree.” She clasped her hands upon her lap. “So too, ye will address my riddles — three!”

Saphienne glanced at Iolas. “May we confer before answering?”

“Confer if ye should need. ‘Tis fine by me.”

But Iolas was dissatisfied. “Three riddles, for only two of us? You mean to stack the game in your favour.”

Irritated by the accusation of impropriety, the spirit hissed. “Five answers, then. Say two in error? Fair.” She narrowed her radiant eyes at Iolas. “But should a third be spoken so — beware!”

“Two wrong guesses allowed, across three questions.” Saphienne nodded. “I think that’s reasonable, so long as the riddles are, as well.”

“No cheat am I. My puzzles test ye true.” Impatiently, her gaze bounced between them. “What say ye, then? Shall I present a clue?”

Iolas held up his hand. “Wait.”

He climbed to his feet and fetched the satchel that held his pens, ink, and paper, and he also retrieved one of the writing boards from the grass. Settling back into place, he readied himself to transcribe the spirit’s words, and then nodded to her. “Let’s hear it.”

And so the spirit recited her first riddle, watching Iolas as he wrote, and Saphienne listened carefully.

*          *          *

When the spirit was done, both apprentices reviewed Iolas’ record. His handwriting was neat, but had none of the flourish of his calligraphic work — written in haste.

Upon my easy friend I swift alight

To cover them as like the mountains’ snow

Alas, my joys can strangers seldom know

For strangers envy all who glow so bright

The children know me when they fly a kite

And wisest elders watched me slowly grow

Into the stranger’s heart I cannot flow

My friends arouse naught but their bitter spite

Yet fast my friends forgive, when so treated

Golden, they see the world through brightest eye

If thine, I flee from words truly heated

Quitting thy friendships through thy lonely sigh

My nature often asked, rare completed

Hubris alone decides — from whence come I?

“A poem,” Saphienne murmured.

Iolas counted the syllables, and underlined the stresses. “A sonnet,” he whispered back. “I thought so. I believe she’s been speaking in iambic pentameter, all this time.”

They were overheard by the spirit. “Alive with poetry, my tongue has stood since all the world was bathed in dragonflare; its joys through Elfish verse are understood, although its song remains without compare.”

Saphienne listened to the beats. “Ten syllables ending in a rhyme, in five pairs of two — soft, then stressed. That’s the rhythm.”

Iolas was surprised by her. “Yes. Each pair is usually an iamb, which is a soft syllable and then a stressed syllable. There’s other names, for other pairings. The second pair in a line of five must be aniamb, with rare exceptions, and so long as each line is mostly made of iambs, it’s iambic pentameter.” Despite the circumstances, he smiled. “Really, you’re unfamiliar with poetry?”

She shook her head. “I know a little. Not as much as you.”

“Well, as interesting and beautiful as it is, we still need to solve this. Any ideas?”

They pondered the poem together.

Upon my easy friend I swift alight

To cover them as like the mountains’ snow

Alas, my joys can strangers seldom know

For strangers envy all who glow so bright

The children know me when they fly a kite

And wisest elders watched me slowly grow

Into the stranger’s heart I cannot flow

My friends arouse naught but their bitter spite

Yet fast my friends forgive, when so treated

Golden, they see the world through brightest eye

If thine, I flee from words truly heated

Quitting thy friendships through thy lonely sigh

My nature often asked, rare completed

Hubris alone decides — from whence come I?

Saphienne pointed to each of the three verses. “Friends and strangers are emphasised throughout. A person?”

“Maybe.” Iolas frowned. “I don’t think so. I think it’s metaphorical. Not a person, or occupation, but something that is friendly to some and a stranger to others. The breeze is also mentioned a few times — as falling snow, as a flying kite, and as a sigh. Maybe also implied by the word ‘flow,’ but I could be reaching.”

Examining the spirit, Saphienne had a thought. “When the spirit arrived, she arrived upon the wind.”

“You think ‘a spirit’ is the answer?” He scanned the poem. “Well, she’s certainly aroused our spite by claiming Celaena. And her eyes have turned a shade of yellow, which could be golden. I can see it.” He nodded to Saphienne. “Let’s try it.”

She squared her shoulders. “A spirit.”

But the spirit giggled, and shook her head. “Though I am charmed that ye would think of me, my riddle’s key is still unknown to ye.”

“Damn.” Iolas sighed. “Let’s try again.”

Upon my easy friend I swift alight

To cover them as like the mountains’ snow

He tapped the first lines. “…Not a person, not an occupation, not a spirit. It alights upon them like snow on the mountains…”

Frustrated, Saphienne tried to follow along. “On their peak?”

“Like snow on the peak of the mountain.” Iolas puzzled it through. “Atop the mountain. Settling gently… and maybe rolling down across the rest.”

Alas, my joys can strangers seldom know

For strangers envy all who glow so bright

Saphienne pointed to the following two. “It has joys, and the people estranged from it seldom know them. And the people estranged from it envy… the people who know its joys? And to know its joys is to glow brightly.”

The children know me when they fly a kite

And wisest elders watched me slowly grow

Iolas nodded. “I’m with you. And children know it when they fly a kite, and elders have watched it grow — slowly.”

“Wisest elders. Not all elders.”

“What makes an elder wise?” Iolas mused.

“Well, Filaurel told me wisdom is the key to living a good life.”

Iolas shook his head. “But what makes a life good? Don’t we each decide that for ourselves?”

Saphienne returned to the poem.

Into the stranger’s heart I cannot flow

My friends arouse naught but their bitter spite

“It talks about not being able to flow into the hearts of people estranged from it,” she said. “Only two things flow into hearts: blood, and feelings.”

“So it’s a feeling!” Iolas sat up straight. “A feeling which comes quickly to some, and slowly to others. A feeling from which we can be estranged. A feeling that the wisest elders have cultivated, and that children feel in play–” He laughed. “I think I know it! Saphienne, the answer is ‘Happiness,’ I think.”

She ran through the penultimate lines.

Yet fast my friends forgive, when so treated

Golden, they see the world through brightest eye

If thine, I flee from words truly heated

Quitting thy friendships through thy lonely sigh

“Happy people forgive when poorly treated, and they see the world through a bright eye.” She felt confident he was right. “Happiness flees from heated words, and goes out of friendships when we’re lonely.”

My nature often asked, rare completed

Hubris alone decides — from whence come I?

Iolas quoted the last lines. “‘My nature often asked,’ because everyone wants to be happy, ‘rare completed,’ because nobody’s completely happy, ‘Hubris alone decides,’ because telling someone else what makes them happy is arrogant, and ‘from whence come I?’ restates the key question of happiness.”

Taking a deep breath, Saphienne faced the spirit. “Happiness.”

And the spirit applauded them. “Clever be ye children! That is indeed correct.”

Both of them exhaled, and then smiled weakly at each other as they realised they were equally on edge.

Saphienne gestured for Iolas to pass her the writing supplies. “You’re better at this. I’ll write — you focus on the next poem.”

Iolas handed them over, and once Saphienne was ready he nodded to the spirit.

As she recounted the second riddle, the spirit looked down, studying the palms that she possessed as though the words were written on them.

“I think this is it,” Saphienne concluded, marking the stresses before she passed the paper to Iolas.

I hold thee dear when all alone, a friend

From nothing ever will I take my leave

I will be thine until the bitter end —

Invite me close, for to thy side I cleave

I slowly enter late at night, a thief

Yet all remains untouched by light of day

No silver, gold, or jewels bring relief —

The die is cast, and all is lost to grey

A fiend, I tarnish all that thee embrace

To save thy heart from any greater pain

For only thee can death my touch erase —

Though ye hold fast, who can defy my reign?

Quiet am I — but angry too, no doubt

Speak not my name — but scream my silent shout

“Still a sonnet.” Iolas moved his lips as he read through it. “Yes, this looks right to me. And the rhyming scheme is different from the first one — a more recent style.”

“Does that mean something?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. She might just be showing off.”

The spirit rolled her eyes.

Glaring at her, Saphienne tore her gaze away, and focused on the riddle.

I hold thee dear when all alone, a friend

From nothing ever will I take my leave

I will be thine until the bitter end —

Invite me close, for to thy side I cleave

 “Something that holds us dear… when we’re alone?” She knew that had to be metaphorical. “And it won’t leave anything; it’s something that will stay with us until the end.”

“The bitter end: death.” Iolas shifted, discomforted by the thought. “But it still wants us to invite it closer.”

I hold thee dear when all alone, a friend

…

I slowly enter late at night, a thief

…

A fiend, I tarnish all that thee embrace

She pointed to the first lines of each main verse. “It calls itself a friend, then a thief, and then a fiend.”

Iolas saw the pattern. “That last one is probably the most honest, since it comes at the start of its line, while the other two are at the end. It’s emphasised.”

The subtleties of the poem became clearer to Saphienne. “So it’s a fiend, and it starts off by representing itself as a friend, then proceeds to steal from us, and finally we see it for what it is. Which means… the way the first verse is written, is it seducing us?”

He retraced the opening lines with his fingertip.

I hold thee dear when all alone, a friend

From nothing ever will I take my leave

I will be thine until the bitter end —

Invite me close, for to thy side I cleave

“I think so,” Iolas said. “The first stanza stresses how it holds us dear, that it’s loyal… but also that it won’t leave. We can’t get rid of it, so we might as well invite it in.” His finger moved lower.

I slowly enter late at night, a thief

Yet all remains untouched by light of day

No silver, gold, or jewels bring relief —

The die is cast, and all is lost to grey

“But what does it steal?” he asked. “It says it comes late at night, but when daylight returns, nothing’s been taken.”

“What does ‘the die is cast’ mean?”

“That’s a historical allusion: it means one’s committed to a course of action and there’s no going back.” He mimed a gentle throw. “You roll the dice, and it’ll be whatever it’ll be. So in the poem, something’s come to pass, and all has been lost… to grey? Could it be ‘darkness,’ do you think?”

Saphienne read the last of the main verses.

A fiend, I tarnish all that thee embrace

To save thy heart from any greater pain

For only thee can death my touch erase —

Though ye hold fast, who can defy my reign?

She paused. “Does darkness tarnish what we hold on to? Does it save us from greater pain? Does death erase its touch?”

Iolas grinned. “Not darkness: ‘Night.’ The night is inevitable, and only sunrise can defy its reign. It’s also quiet, but a lot of anger comes out in the night, and we feel its silence as though it’s a loud shout, so…”

She was unsure. “…Maybe…”

Promptly turning to the spirit, Iolas trusted in himself. “Night.”

“Wait, Iolas–”

And the spirit shook her head. “Two errors made; all else must be well played.”

*          *          *

In the awkward pause that followed, Saphienne lamely pointed to the first line of the second stanza.

I slowly enter late at night, a thief

“…It slowly enters late at night. How could it enter during itself?”

Beside her, Iolas choked.

He looked down. Then, up. Then, finally, he looked away. “…Sorry.”

Closing her eyes, Saphienne calmed herself and thought it all through. “A fiend that holds us when we’re all alone, and enters late at night. It steals something – but not anything physical – and tells us that we can’t change the past, and that everything is lost.”

Returning her gaze to the page, she picked it up. “Not just lost, but lost to ‘grey.’ Grey; a colour? No, a grey feeling.”

A fiend, I tarnish all that thee embrace

To save thy heart from any greater pain

For only thee can death my touch erase —

Though ye hold fast, who can defy my reign?

She broke it down further. “And it goes on to say it tarnishes all that we embrace, which I suppose means all that we love and hold dear.” She clicked her tongue. “Except it doesn’t say that… it says ‘embrace,’ because it claims only it holds us dear. Whatever it is, the feeling is trying to seduce us, to capture us by saying there’s nothing else in the world to hold dear…”

Saphienne looked at the spirit, who was once more studying her stolen hands. Really, it was Celaena that Saphienne was looking at; and as she studied the girl, Saphienne thought about their visit to her house, and how Celaena had explained her living arrangements to them.

“…It tarnishes all we love, to save our heart from any greater pain. It says only death can remove it from us. It asks who can defy its reign, rhetorically saying it’s inevitable. And it’s quiet, and angry, and we don’t talk about it, but we scream silently.”

Iolas watched her. “I don’t know what it is, Saphienne.”

She put the paper down. “No, but Celaena does.”

The spirit looked up, sharply — and that made Saphienne smile.

“Did you notice,” Saphienne asked him, “how it was looking at you when it gave us the riddle about happiness? And how it looked at Celaena, for this one?” She turned to him, eyes blazing. “Those were clues. It’s another feeling, Iolas, and related to the first.”

Saphienne met the spirit’s yellow eyes. “Sorrow.”

And the spirit smiled. “Cleverest child. Peerless, though he is near.”

“Enough.” Saphienne flushed, hot with embarrassment — and with anger on Iolas’ behalf. “I don’t want your compliments. Give us the third riddle.”

“Then give to us the paper: we will write.” The spirit held out her hand. “‘Tis only fair. A poem each is right.”

*          *          *

Unnervingly, the spirit didn’t look down as she wrote, but kept her piercing gaze on Saphienne throughout.

“It is completed,” she announced, passing them the final poem. “Be ye defeated?”

“That remains to be seen,” Iolas growled back. He marked the stresses as he read through the poem…

To face me, thou are sure to lose thy sight

Against my might thou can do naught but heave

Should thou embrace me, others join thy plight —

All ye I smite in turn, without reprieve

I rest upon thy bosom should thee grieve

And follow close at heel, gravely cheated

What thou must bare, I would of thee relieve —

I pose with victor and sore defeated

With memory I have oft repeated

I am refreshed to hear thy laugh or cry

Though sudden stirred, I can fall depleted —

And when denied, the rain abets thy lie

Resent me not within thy joys and fears —

Who else but I will run through all thy years?

…Then slumped where he sat. “I don’t know, Saphienne. It’s still a sonnet, in an even more recent style, but I can’t follow.”

She nudged him in the ribs. “Don’t give in. What do you notice?”

Brooding, he mulled it over.

“There���s an emphasis on struggle,” Iolas eventually said. “If it’s another feeling, it’s one that we struggle with. Lots of contradictions in the poem, too, so it’s a feeling we feel conflicted about.” Then he frowned again, quite deeply, and looked away from the page to grab the others, rereading them.

Upon my easy friend I swift alight

To cover them as like the mountains’ snow

Alas, my joys can strangers seldom know

For strangers envy all who glow so bright…

I hold thee dear when all alone, a friend

From nothing ever will I take my leave

I will be thine until the bitter end —

Invite me close, for to thy side I cleave…

Iolas saw another pattern. “…And it reuses the rhyming sounds from the first two poems.”

“…Which were about contrary feelings.” Saphienne took them from him, intrigued.

“The poem doesn’t just reuse them,” he clarified. “It deliberately copies the rhyming sounds from the first two poems, and puts them in their corresponding places within the new rhyming scheme.” He marked the three poems.

Upon my easy friend I swift alight (a)

To cover them as like the mountains’ snow (b)

Alas, my joys can strangers seldom know (b)

For strangers envy all who glow so bright…  (a)

I hold thee dear when all alone, a friend (c)

From nothing ever will I take my leave (d)

I will be thine until the bitter end — (c)

Invite me close, for to thy side I cleave… (d)

To face me, thou are sure to lose thy sight (a)

Against my might thou can do naught but heave (d)

Should thou embrace me, others join thy plight — (a)

All ye I smite in turn, without reprieve… (d)

“It uses the rhyming sounds from the first stanzas of the other sonnets in its first verse, then rotates through them for the other rhymes… but not evenly. The rhymes are biased toward the first poem.”

Saphienne was confused, eyes flitting between all three poems. “I see the reused rhyming sounds… I’ll take your word for the rest.”

Her gaze caught on the concluding couplet.

Resent me not within thy joys and fears —

Who else but I will run through all thy years?

She drew his attention to them. “Those last two lines, though: that rhyming sound is new, isn’t it? ‘Fears’ and ‘years’ don’t rhyme with any line from the other two poems.”

“A clue?” He narrowed his eyes at the spirit. “So the structure did matter!”

Whether or not it did, the spirit pretended not to notice him, still watching Saphienne.

Who was beginning her fourth read-through of the riddle.

To face me, thou are sure to lose thy sight

Against my might thou can do naught but heave

Should thou embrace me, others join thy plight —

All ye I smite in turn, without reprieve

“We don’t fight the feeling, we ‘face’ it, and when we do, we lose our sight.” She tried to feel the implications through. “But it doesn’t say we’re blinded… which maybe implies the loss is temporary. Against its strength, we can’t do anything but heave… but, heave what? And if we embrace it, others suffer along with us, and it smites everyone without mercy.”

I rest upon thy bosom should thee grieve

And follow close at heel, gravely cheated

What thou must bare, I would of thee relieve —

I pose with victor and sore defeated

Iolas caught up with her. “It rests on our chest, if we grieve. It follows us closely, if we’re badly cheated…” He raised his eyebrows. “…No, that’s a pun. ‘Gravely cheated’ means both ‘badly cheated,’ and ‘cheating the grave’ — it follows if we come close to dying.”

“I see it.”

Feeling confident again, he leant closer to the page. “And look! She wrote ‘what thou must bare,’ as in ‘to lay something bare,’ rather than ‘bear,’ as in ‘carry.’ I don’t think that’s a mistake.”

“Another pun.” Saphienne grimaced. “Hilarious.”

“And there’s yet another soon after — ‘sore defeated,’ where ‘sore’ could mean both ‘badly’ and ‘painfully,’ I think.”

“So it’s related to being cheated, coming close to death, carrying a burden, revealing something, being defeated, and pain?”

“Not just that.” He laid out the pieces. “If it’s like the other poems, it’s a feeling — one that comes to us when we cheat death, when we’re burdened, when we reveal something, in victory, when we’re defeated, and when we’re in pain.”

The third verse drew her in.

With memory I have oft repeated

I am refreshed to hear thy laugh or cry

Though sudden stirred, I can fall depleted —

And when denied, the rain abets thy lie

Saphienne felt understanding stir in the back of her mind. “It’s associated with memory, too, with which it recurs… but what about the rest?”

He rubbed his chin. “Hearing our laugh or shout refreshes it. Not shout: cry. And it comes over us suddenly, but can run out. Then… there’s something about refusing it, and the rain helping us lie?”

They stared at the lines, neither of them having any further insight.

Iolas rolled his shoulders, shrugging off his frustration. “What about the final lines?”

Resent me not within thy joys and fears —

Who else but I will run through all thy years?

There was a delicate sentiment in those lines. Saphienne could feel it, faint and familiar, reminding her of what she had felt so very recently…

“‘Resent me not,’ Saphienne quoted, ‘within thy joys and fears — who else but I will run–’”

Interrupting, the spirit finished the line. “Through all thy years?”

And Saphienne felt as though the coin in her palm had grown hot, the answer burning within — and rising in her eyes.

She closed them, taking a cleansing breath before she addressed the spirit. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “You’re beaten.”

Iolas laid a hand on her shoulder. “Saphienne? Are you alright?”

Saphienne fixed her now furious gaze on the smiling spirit. “Tears.”

And the spirit was still grinning. “But tell me this, truly: which dost thou shed? Upon what spirit has thy heart been fed?”

Iolas tighten his hold on her shoulder. “You heard Saphienne — you’re finished.” His patience had run dry. “Release Celaena to us.”

Shrugging, the spirit yawned. “Are we finished? We let the wizard tell.”

Having kept silent throughout the duel, the master of both the apprentices and the spirit emerged from the unnecessary protection of his magic circle. “All has been done in accordance with the ancient ways. You have our thanks, and are free to go.”

The spirit clapped her hands. “Then I depart along the leaves…” She waved to them all, smiling sweetly. “Farewell!”

No sooner had the word left her lips than a stirring wind stripped the yellow from Celaena’s eyes, and she slumped over on the gravel circle, convulsing as she gasped for breath.

End of Chapter 26

I realised, while redrafting later chapters, that I hadn't paid proper attention to some terminology that I really ought to have. Later this week (before Tuesday) I'll go back through the uploaded chapters here and make some blink-and-you'll-miss-it corrections to the published chapters. They're incredibly subtle, and I'll be impressed if anyone catches them. If you think you do, and you think you know what those edits imply, drop me a private message!

Chapter 27 on 1st April 2025 (really — no fooling around).

Two new chapters every week, Tuesdays and Thursdays.

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Thanks for reading.

[bee-thee-hoe]

New Mindset New Me

Life is too short to be half living as someone you are and someone you don't want to be anymore. We often question how to instantly turn into this stunning rebirthed being who lives each day like a shot in a montage, how to wake up one day and magically be different. However the real question is what was so wrong with your past self and what is so radically different in this new one? At the end of the day you will always only be you, what you fake and mock you become. Every joke out of you mouth is still a thing you said. "It's my cheat day", "I'm so stupid, I won't ever pass this class". What if you don't frame it as such, "I'm craving this so I will eat it and move on", "I will pass this class no matter how much work it takes", because at the end of the day it is not what you didn't do with your time, it's what you did. It matters very little if you thought about your homework all day while you sat on your phone, how much does that accomplish. If you say you have been meaning to start this new hobby what good does that do. It doesn't matter if you wanted to do something for ten years because that accomplishes just as much as wanting to do it for a day.

To become the person you want to be you need to act like them. Think of this new dream self. Think about what their life would really be like. Think of them on an imperfect day, on a perfect day, on a mundane day. What does their life look like. When do they wake up? No really, they are just as exhausted as you are, be real, when do they wake up? Why do they wake up then? When would they need to go to bed? Now think of what would be easier for you, forcing yourself up early every day for two weeks and inevitably going to bed earlier because of that, or forcing yourself to bed early for two weeks and gradually waking up earlier as a result? It's different for every person, some methods work better then others, we don't operate under the same circumstances. Some might even find a mix of both might work.

Now think of what they do when they wake up. Do they get out of bed immediately, do they stop and read the news on their phone, do they scroll a little to try and wake themselves up? No judgement here, we all do it. Take some time in your envisioning and look up the effects of screen time in the early morning. Now read it again. Listen, you get along fine using your phone first thing in the morning, we've all heard of the negative affects. No one wants to be told not to do anything because we all love our autonomy. But what if you stop and think about how that serves you, what does it bring to you? Do you find joy, or is it all about the world falling apart and then look there's an AI cat video. What would wake you up as much as your phone? Would keeping a fun book by your bed give you something to focus one while your body get used to the day, what about glass of water?

Let's be honest, no one completes that list of things they should do in a day. That new years resolution you first made when you were thirteen has no place here, you aren't going to start waking up at five am to do yoga or workout before school or work. Why not start with something more reasonable, make some coffee in a reusable Keurig pod or even in an Italian stovetop coffee pot. It's possible to make tea in the stovetop espresso machines even, so if you're trying to continue your anti caffeine dry January you can still enjoy the warmth of a morning beverage. Fill up your favorite large mug you got yourself from a local craft fair you spent regrettable amounts of money at and sit on your porch listening to the birds; or if you live in a terrible tundra 8 months out of the year you can sit by your fire that is taking too long to warm the house. A space-heater is a wonderful substitute for that if you don't live the Jan Brett lifestyle, not many can in this economy.

The moment we are able to sit with our thoughts is the moment we start living for ourselves and not corporations. You could use this time to plan for the day, month, or even year. It could be that alone time you desperately search for while staying up late at night doom scrolling. Look around the room you're in, is there a little project you've been meaning to complete, a book you bought and have forgotten to read? What about the trim leaning up against the wall where it could be nailed to? That project is not for a quiet morning, but tidying a room now clears up that time you would have spent later.

All of this is awfully ambitious and seems like a lot; but there is no better way to become the person you want to be than to just do it. Whose to say you can't be the type of person who wakes up early and stretches every day. Or the type of person who doesn't lose control around food at night. You can be the person who goes on a daily morning jog! But the only way to become that person is to stop just thinking about it and start doing it.

We can go back to the first premise; think of your ideal person: what do they do, how do they act, why do they do all that? You will often find it goes hand in hand, they are well rested and wake up early because they limit screens 2 hours before bed. They read more because they don't doom-scroll at night when they can't sleep. They run every morning because they wake up early enough to do so and are ready for the day when it arrives. They don't spend that extra hour reading the news and raising their anxiety but rather use that hour to ease into the day, plan and organize their life even if all that means is getting out of bed and making coffee, that is still progress.

Your challenge for the day is to figure out what your dream person does and how it affects other aspects of their life. Circle together which of their daily tasks go hand in hand. Once you realize how simple one thing is to change the rest of it will fall into place.

You got this!

-Emmaline