#The Birds: and Other Stories quotes

[flowerytale]

Daphne du Maurier, from "The Apple Tree", The Birds and Other Stories (1952)

[webfactor]

Wikipedia editors push offensive language to delegitimize some Native American Tribes

Article Text As Follows:

Wikipedia editors push offensive language to delegitimize some Native American Tribes

By Sherry Robinson

Special to The Independent

ALBUQUERQUE — When Lily Gladstone won a Golden Globe and Oscar nomination for her role in “Killers of the Flower Moon,” the public recognized a Native American actress. But to Wikipedia readers, she is an American actress whose father was Blackfeet and Nez Perce and whose mother was white.

Three long-time editors at the online encyclopedia argued that even though Gladstone grew up on the Blackfeet reservation, she couldn’t be called Native American unless she was an enrolled member of the tribe. When Gladstone’s uncle weighed in to say she was enrolled, they dismissed his comments. She is still, in Wikipedia’s view, “an American actress.”

In recent years, outside of a national debate in Indian Country over fake tribes, a handful of Wikipedia editors have been deciding who is Native American and who isn’t.

Look behind the curtain of the sprawling site and you will find a network of 265,000 volunteer editors writing and editing within a Wiki universe that has its own rules, language, police and courts but no traditional hierarchy.

Wikipedia’s structure allows likeminded editors to work together, but it also permits editors with a bias to advance their agenda. The site has drawn criticism from media and academics for slanted articles on Blacks and Jews. Wikipedia documents its own systemic bias in an article by that name and attributes the problem to too few minority editors. The typical editor, it says, is a white male.

By Wikipedia's definition, the only real tribes are federally recognized; editors of Native American material denigrate state-recognized and unrecognized tribes and seem preoccupied with revealing fake Indians.

The fakes are out there, and they’re a problem. But there’s a big difference between people who invented a Native ancestry and people who have a long, documented heritage.

For this story, aggrieved tribal members didn’t identify themselves because they fear the site’s size and power – it reaches 1.8 billion devices a month – and some editors’ vindictiveness.

Behind the curtain

Wikipedia is transparent about its process. Click on “talk” at the top of each article and you find the (sometimes endless) debates among editors about an article and see the site’s rules in action.

Editors are anonymous because the Wikipedia Foundation has a strong commitment to privacy, says a spokesperson. However, readers don’t know what expertise editors have or whether they’re Native American.

Editors select their subject matter. With experience they can rise in the pecking order until they gain authority to reverse or eliminate the edits of others. They quote the site’s often arcane rules in Wiki-Speak to anyone who disagrees. While Wikipedia espouses objectivity, neutrality and civility, discussions can take the low road.

On Lily Gladstone’s talk page, a newish editor, user name Tsideh (Apache for bird), asked, “What are your sources supporting the idea that Native Americans are only those who are enrolled in a US recognized tribe?”

A Wiki editor, user name ARoseWolf, answered: “A notable subject can make a claim… but you must have that respective tribal nation’s acceptance as verification through enrollment."

Gladstone’s uncle wrote: “I’m a primary source for Ms. Gladstone’s tribal heritage. Her father is my brother. Through our father, we are both enrolled in the Blackfeet Tribe in the USA,” he wrote. “Our mother is enrolled Nez Perce. So Ms. Gladstone is a direct descendant of both Blackfeet and Nez Perce.”

ARoseWolf shot him down. “We can not use primary sources to verify such information and, you, as a claimed family member have a WP:COI which means we need an independent source.”

WP:COI is the Wikipedia rule on confl ict of interest. Wikipedia forbids primary sources, and yet they’re the gold standard for journalists and academics.

Tsideh challenged the position that only enrollment in a recognized tribe “entitles somebody to claim to be a Native American” as an unfounded, minority point of view that Wiki editors didn’t support with a citation or explanation.

ARoseWolf and others chastised Tsideh for violating Wiki rules on bullying, false accusations and arguing Wiki policy. Tsideh countered that Leonardo DiCaprio didn’t have to prove he was an Italian American, but Lily Gladstone had to prove she was a Native American.

As the back and forth continued, ARoseWolf slammed a new editor who "just happened to find this discussion,” a dig that implies one party enlisted another to join the debate. That too is a Wiki violation.

Bohemian Baltimore, another regular, insisted, “If she’s not enrolled, she may be a descendant, but she’s not a Native American.”

Who is Native American?

Terry Campbell, a Navajo born in Tuba City, Arizona, who lives out of state, has been studying Wikipedia for five months, after friends complained about poor treatment in trying to edit Wiki pages.

One friend wanted to add some facts to an article about a tribe. “These changes were rejected by a handful of editors who cited other Wikipedia pages as sources,” he said, “and I thought that was very, very odd.”

A friend citing sources that prove her tribe survived the Indian wars and received state recognition ran up against Wikipedia guidelines on determining Native American identities that were largely crafted by two editors, user names CorbieVreccan and Yuchitown. Wiki editors used the guidelines to reclassify dozens of state-recognized tribes as “heritage organizations” and removed “Native American” from biographies of prominent tribal members or, worse, called them a "self-identified Native American.”

The implication, Campbell explained, is that the tribe no longer exists and that its members are suspect or even “Pretendians.” Wikipedia has a page for that too.

The same group has shaped many articles on Native subjects. Campbell said he combed through references and found they were misrepresented, taken out of context, sourced from far-right academics, or unreliable.

“The scope of this issue is huge,” Campbell said. “It permeates all the Native articles I checked.”

Campbell recognized talking points from what he called a far-right movement in Indian Country intent on erasing state-recognized and unrecognized tribes. (New Mexico has no state-recognized tribes and six unrecognized groups or tribes.)

Some Native Americans and Anglos, he said, believe that Indigenous people outside the circle of federal recognition should be considered non-Native. They also want to prevent members of the disenfranchised groups from selling their art, receiving ancestral remains, accessing disaster relief or re-establishing their homeland.

Outside Indian Country, it’s not generally known that U.S. Indigenous groups live within a caste system based on government recognition, with 574 federally recognized tribes on top, dozens of state-recognized tribes second, and several hundred unrecognized tribes last.

In 2021, Yuchitown wrote, “The overwhelming majority of ‘List of unrecognized tribes in the United States’ are completely illegitimate.”

There are many reasons why groups aren’t recognized. Some avoided the reservation. Some lost their recognition during the termination era. Some were broken up and scattered during the Indian Wars. Some went underground, practicing their culture secretly while passing as Hispanic. Many simply stayed put.

When Wikipedia editors claim that “Native American” is a political status conferred by the U.S. government, that an individual can only be called a “descendent” until their tribe is recognized, they push this narrative, Campbell said. It’s a contradiction of federal Indian law and the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

According to the U.S. Department of Justice, “As a general principle, an Indian is a person who is of some degree Indian blood and is recognized as an Indian by a Tribe and/or the United States. No single federal or tribal criterion establishes a person’s identity as an Indian. Government agencies use differing criteria to determine eligibility for programs and services. Tribes also have varying eligibility criteria for membership.”

Extreme points of view

Campbell has contributed to a lengthy report, as yet unpublished, that identifies biased editors. They include Yuchitown, CorbieVreccan, ARoseWolf, Indigenous girl and Bohemian Baltimore.

“It was like a tree with many interconnecting branches that had been created over time by the same small group of people pushing extreme points of view,” Campbell said.

Initially the group made changes slowly, he said, “but they started pursuing their agenda aggressively after November, when state-recognized tribes retained their voting rights in the National Congress of American Indians (NCAI). Essentially, after the movement to delegitimize state-recognized tribes failed officially, the key players doubled down on altering and controlling the flow of information about Native Americans through Wikipedia.”

Campbell observed widespread violations of Wikipedia standards: “I found evidence that they blatantly misquoted and misrepresented sources to push extremist political beliefs; teamed up to manipulate the consensus system by voting in blocks; exploited Wikipedia rules, such as conflict of interest, to block outside editors from making changes to Native-related pages; excessively cited opinion pieces from fringe political figures, including those accused of racism and anti-semitism; blocked the use of legitimate primary and secondary sources that contradict their extremists beliefs, which violates Wikipedia’s rule against information suppression; posted originally researched, politically motivated essays instead of well-sourced articles; and harassed and defamed Native American tribes and living Native American people.”

Reacting in February to an early draft of the report posted on Google, the editors were incensed that anybody would voice complaints “off-Wiki.” ARoseWolf wrote that “we have been attacked, threatened with legal action and had misinformation/ false claims spread against us.” She and Yuchitown denied being part of a conspiracy against tribes or organizations and said they were just following Wiki rules. Yuchitown accused critics of being “meat puppets” of a person who objected to some Native content and enlisted others to back them up. In WikiSpeak this is meat puppetry.

“Volunteers on Wikipedia vigilantly defend against information that does not meet the site’s requirements,” the Wikipedia spokeswoman wrote. “These volunteers regularly review a feed of real-time edits to quickly address problematic changes; bots spot and revert many common forms of negative behavior on the site; and volunteer administrators (trusted Wikipedia volunteers with advanced permissions to protect Wikipedia) further investigate and address negative behavior. When a user repeatedly violates Wikipedia policies, Wikipedia administrators can take disciplinary action and block them from further editing.”

Inaccurate and insulting

In 2006, Wikipedia established the WikiProject Indigenous Peoples of North America to improve its Native-related content of 14,000 articles and more than 37,000 pages.

Recently, a hot topic on the project’s talk page was a proposal to change a category name from “unrecognized tribes” to “organizations that self-identify.”

On April 15 Melissa Harding Ferretti, chairwoman of the Herring Pond Wampanoag Tribe in Massachusetts, wrote, “The proposed renaming of the category on Wikipedia is not only inaccurate… but also insulting.”

Ferretti is one of the few Natives to take on Wiki editors openly.

Herring Pond was originally listed with other Wampanoag tribes. In 2022 Yuchitown stripped “state-recognized” from the page, even though the state Commission of Indian Affairs regularly engages with them. Last year Yuchitown created a separate page for Herring Pond. Wiki editors resisted attempts to make changes or corrections.

After Wikipedia called Herring Pond a “cultural heritage group" and a nonprofi t that "claims" to descend from Wampanoags, Ferretti wrote in a Wiki discussion, “There is no claim, it’s a fact! Might I add, nonprofit status was imposed upon Tribal nations in the ‘90s because we didn’t have our federal recognition yet.”

Her tribe has a well-documented history. “We still have care and custody of our sacred places, burial grounds and our 1838 Meetinghouse, one of three built for the Tribe after the arrival of the colonizers. Our continuous presence and stewardship of these lands are recognized by historical records, deeds and treaties.”

Ferretti wrote that tribes without federal recognition already face significant hurdles to gain recognition, "and being labeled as 'self-identified' can add to these challenges by casting doubt on our legitimacy.” Mislabeling unrecognized tribes “can lead to the spread of hate, misinformation and further marginalization.”

Some Wiki editors agreed. One wrote that “there are strong negative connotations to saying someone who is Native 'self identifies,' because the inference is that they are Native in name only or falsely claiming to be Native. A change like this will impact countless articles…” Bohemian Baltimore, ARoseWolf and Yuchitown insisted there were no negative connotations. They opposed calling an unrecognized group a tribe because it legitimized groups with unverified claims. ARoseWolf said, “If they had proof of their connection to the original people they would have gotten federal recognition.”

This is a frequent refrain among the insiders, who apparently think the application process is a slam dunk instead of the long, difficult, expensive journey it is.

Yuchitown noted that “all of the editors who actively contribute to and improve Native American topics on Wikipedia have voted to support the renaming.” It’s a remarkable declaration that he and his allies act in concert.

The insiders took even stronger action against Lipan Apaches in Texas.

Late in 2022, Yuchitown changed the entry of the Lipan Apache Tribe of Texas to say that NCAI recognizes the tribe as state-recognized but the National Conference of State Legislatures (NCSL) does not. In fact, NCSL took down its web page listing federal and state-recognized tribes because it couldn’t verify the accuracy.

In boilerplate that appears on all the Texas unrecognized tribes’ websites, Yuchitown said Texas has no legal mechanism to recognize tribes, citing an online article that in turn cites the discredited NCSL web page.

In 2022, a tribal member and Yuchitown fought back and forth, reversing each other’s edits. In WikiSpeak, it was edit warring. The tribal member informed Yuchitown that the NCSL page he quoted no longer existed. CorbieVreccan told the member she was up against “two experienced editors,” and Yuchitown accused her of conflict of interest and edit warring. His fellow travelers demanded to know if she had an official position with the tribe. She didn’t.

ARoseWolf wrote, “As Wikipedia is not a state or government-controlled entity it can make up its own rules for what content is allowed on its platform.”

The Wikimedia spokeswoman says that in some extreme cases the foundation relies on a trust and safety team that will investigate and may also take action.

Campbell wrote in the report that many Native American communities and people “have been targeted by the small group of propagandists in this complaint… And the thousands of people who make these communities have been slandered and assaulted on Wikipedia through the actions of these propagandists.”

Link to the original article:

[unoislazy]

Your Touch

Mizu x Reader

Summary: Mizu is touchstarved. That’s it, that’s the entire thing.

A/n: Next story will hopefully be “Caged Bird” part 3, then I will finally post one of the asks that I took an interest in.

————————————————————

You looked at Mizu, her dark hair pulled up into the high bun it was always in. The loose curl that she always kept out no matter what the occasion, lightly bounced as she walked by, focused on whatever task she had to finish.

You watched and looked on with curiosity, you wondered if she had ever done a different hairstyle on her hair before. You thought a braid might compliment her features, or even half up, you had many ideas and suddenly you were determined to try them.

Well that would require Mizu’s permission first.

“Hey Mizu.” You began, drawing out each syllable of her name to quickly pass on the hint that what you were going to say wasn’t serious.

She paused for a moment, putting down a large box and wiping her brow before looking at you. Her eyebrow rose ever so slightly, her curiosity was piqued despite her not saying a word.

“Have you ever worn your hair differently?” You asked. She simply stared at you for a moment before shrugging,

“A few different times. I just can't really afford to when I’m doing ‘samurai’ things.” She said in air quotes. She never enjoyed calling herself a samurai, for one thing most of the time she purely acted out of the name of revenge not honor. Another, she’s a woman.

Personally, you didn’t really care about the rules of a samurai, you respected them and their ambition but the ones you had met in the past were more focused on their honor over anything else. It had only hit you when you had met Taigen, he was so obsessed with reclaiming his honor like a disowned child that he practically abandoned his engagement. You didn’t understand it, what good is honor if it can be taken away so quickly.

You looked up at Mizu who seemed to be deep in thought. You figured she was just thinking of the different styles she had done before, but her face held a certain sadness as she thought. You began to realize that there was a story attached to the topic of hairstyles that you knew better than to bring up.

“Have you ever braided your hair?” You asked, regaining her attention. She thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. It wasn’t a common style for the time so you weren’t exactly that surprised.

“Would you like to try one?” You asked. You had definitely piqued her interest, her eyes shifted ever so slightly wider as you patted the spot in front of you.

She obliged, sitting down and facing away from you, her legs in a crossed manner with her hands peacefully resting on her knees.

She almost seemed a bit eager to try the hairstyle which honestly excited you a bit, it’s not often Mizu openly gets excited about something, especially with her very subtle expressions.

She sat before you, her slim figure not too far away from you as you gently reached up and grabbed the hair tie that seemed to hold Mizu’s entire hairstyle together. You’d never understand how she did it with so much hair, it never made sense to you. Her sleek dark hair unfolded, a healthy glow could be seen throughout it, she took care of it despite it being up all the time.

With one hand you ever so gently began to rake through her hair, making sure there were no knots that might get in the way of the process. Because of this, you noticed Mizu stiffen for a moment, a shiver could visibly be seen going throughout her body.

Having seen this your hand jerked back, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. Before you could say anything she turned her head just enough to look at you from over her shoulder and said in a low tone,

“Keep going.”

You paused for a moment as her words sunk in. The way she spoke to you was no different than any other time and yet for some reason… it felt different. You decided to pay no mind to it as your hand returned to her head, slowly dragging it through and sending shivers throughout Mizu’s body yet again.

Despite this, she sat calmly making no other movements other than the occasional twitch here and there as your hands glided through her hair. Having her hair done was a pleasure she never thought twice about, but the way you so delicately pulled at her hair, twisting it and shaping it as if she was some piece of art, it made her feel cared for in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

You carefully separated her hair, overlapping the pieces in a rhythmic manner, cautiously pulling the groups of hair but never hard enough to hurt. It didn’t take long before you had finished, you tied it all together with the hair tie that she used before, letting go of your work.

“How does it look?” She asked, now turning to fully face you. There was almost some sort of innocence that shone through Mizu's expression, one that seemed to say she genuinely cared how she looked. It was kind of sweet to see her usually stoic and harsh exterior break for a moment, it showed you who Mizu really was even if it was for only a few seconds.

You had seen Mizu with her hair down before, maybe not often, but you had seen it. Something was missing.

You stared at her for a moment, a confused look riddled your face before it hit you, the curl.

You gently reached your hand up towards Mizu’s face, one finger looping around the curl that had been hidden away underneath all of the other pieces of hair. Not expecting this, Mizu froze, letting you do what you needed to do but also not knowing how to react otherwise.

Once you had fixed the curl, you moved back a bit to reassess your work. You smiled, finally happy with how it looked.

“Perfect.” You said, proud of the work you had accomplished. Mizu was happy enough just taking your word for it but she was still curious to see how she looked. She drew her sword partially, only just enough to be able to see at least a little bit of her reflection on it. From what she could see, she truly didn’t mind the look.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, patiently waiting for her answer. You watched as a very small smile graced her features as she said,

“It looks good.”

She put her blade away, turning to look back at you as she brushed a few loose strands out her face.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so… gentle.” She admitted quite plainly. Her hands rested on her lap as she thought back to a time when someone else had done her hair.

“Anytime my mother did my hair, gentle didn’t seem to be a word in her vocabulary.” She joked, a melancholic yet reminiscent look made its way onto her face as she thought back to the many times her mother had scolded her for looking to feminine.

“Being rough will only get you so far.” You responded, not really realizing how that sounded. It earned a small snicker from Mizu but it still went over your head regardless. It had got you thinking, the blue eyed woman constantly trained, having faced the several hardships in life at such a young age that no one would even dream of facing. She had to be tough in every way possible if she had any hope of surviving.

But you were determined to show her, in your own way, that you can let your guard down every once in a while.

“Let me see your hands.” You ordered pretty out of nowhere.

“What?” Mizu responded, clearly taken by surprise by your sudden demand.

“Let me see your hands.” You repeated, putting one of yours out and gesturing for her to place hers on top.

Her eyebrows wrinkled with uncertainty, having not a singular clue what you were planning to do, but she still did what you told her to anyway. Her confused expression remained as she placed her hand on yours, her palm facing towards the sky. With your free hand you gently traced the lines on Mizushand, slowly going over each callous that you could see. Just as you had expected, her hands were coarse and rough, tense from constant overworking and pressure, or maybe they were tense because she wasn’t used to the feeling of someone else, you couldn’t tell.

At first she didn’t know what to do except watch your hands.

“What are you doing?” She asked, confused what the point of this was.

You continued to trace lines and pointless circles around her hand, occasionally gently massaging different points.

“You’re really tense.” You pointed out, “I figured this might help you relax a bit.”

Mizu sat still for a bit as you continued, still not easing up in the slightest. Having her hair done was one thing, she had it done before so she knew at least somewhat how to react, but this was something different. You looked up at her, noticing her unbroken stare before smiling at her.

“Relax.” You calmly instructed her.

She closed her eyes, eventually relaxing into the feeling of your touch just like she had done before. She had truly forgotten what it felt like to be touched in a way that didn’t result in a bruise or broken rib.

You continued your motions, occasionally putting slight pressure on different areas. However in one area you had put just a bit too much pressure, resulting in a noise that sounded like a moan escape from Mizu. You immediately stopped, taking your hand away as you apologized,

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

You looked up at her, ready to continue apologizing but you were met with a serious yet… almost affectionate gaze as she said,

“Don’t stop,” She began, her voice was quiet and relaxed so at least you knew your work was paying off.

“It feels nice.”

There it was, that feeling again. You averted your gaze, not able to handle making eye contact with her while also processing your very wild feelings at that moment. One thing about Mizu was she never truly realized just how attractive she was, she always deemed herself a demon or a monster because that’s what she was taught to believe.

But you saw past that and because of that, things that Mizu didn’t even think twice about doing, would nearly send you into a coma just because it was her doing it.

She had no idea the power she had over you just from a few simple words, and you had no idea the power you had over her just from a simple gentle touch.

You continued on like she had told you, smoothing out the tension in her hand the best you could without any prior training on the subject. Eventually you had switched over to her other hand which was somehow more coarse than the first. You couldn’t help but admire the amount of time and strength that went into forming such things.

As you continued, you could tell Mizu was refraining from making any noises. In all honesty, it was nothing you hadn’t heard before, she’s been in pain enough times around you for you to get used to her whimpering and groaning.

Except this time was different, usually the noises she made were from a place of pain and discomfort.

However, this time, they seemed to come from a place of pleasure.

Caused by you.

“It’s okay.” You began, refusing to look up at her. “The more you let out the more I know I’m doing the right thing.” You encouraged, and sure one could say it was for a selfish reason but really who could blame you.

You could hear her continue to refrain, but over a small amount of time you could hear her a little bit more. Your heart raced as you continued, the act you were partaking in was nowhere near as sensual as it sounded and yet it still felt so intimate. If anything that’s all you wanted it to be, but that was a line you’d dare not cross, at least not yet.

A little more time had passed, you had eased out all the tension you felt in her hands and let go of her. Almost immediately she began to miss your warm and gentle embrace, having returned to her harsh and cold reality. But really, it wasn’t as cold as she had thought because you were still there, right in front of her, looking at her as if she was the only human to have ever existed.

“There now, do you feel better?” You asked quietly, a bit sheepish considering the amount of thoughts that had crossed your mind that you would never say out loud.

Mizu rubbed her hand absentmindedly, her face seemed a bit glazed over like she had been so lost in her thoughts and she wasn’t ready to be a normal person again. Once she had finally, fully, snapped back to reality she nodded.

“Thanks.” Was all she said before you two sat in silence. The tension was practically thick enough to cut through but neither of you wanted to be the one to take that leap, not without knowing for certain it was one they could even take in the first place. Up until now, sure you two had been close, but you had never gotten so close physically. You wanted to, she wanted to, but neither of you wanted to own up to it. She claimed she didn’t need distractions, and you claimed it was a feeling that would flutter away just as quickly as it came.

Well you were both wrong.

You both sat there, not looking at each other, not saying anything before you decided to gain the courage to say,

“Mizu?” You practically whispered. She looked towards you, finally taking her attention off of her hand which she continued to rub, trying to emulate the feeling of your touch but to no avail.

“Yes?” She responded. You very slowly inched a bit closer to her, not trying to make your idea or intention too obvious but she already had a few possibilities in mind on how this might unfold.

None of which she was complaining about.

“Can I… can I touch you again?”

That was all you asked. Sure you had literally just put down her hand but it was the fact that you had even asked that sent the same shivers down Mizu’s spine. She went quiet for a moment, not knowing what to respond with.

She truly had never been asked for permission to do anything before, not in this regard at least, and it shocked her a bit.

It somehow became the most intimate question you could’ve asked.

She nodded, not saying a word as she continued to look at you. It was as if she was trying to memorize your features, as if she was trying to burn them into her retinas so she'd never forget.

Your hand very carefully went towards her, cupping the side of her face as if it would break with too much pressure. She slowly began to lean into your touch, the warm feeling returning quickly as she let her harsh exterior down yet again, feeling uncommonly safe because of your touch. From this position she looked towards you, her hand making its way up to your face, and brushing a few hairs out of the way before asking,

“Can I kiss you?”

Her voice was raspy and low, just above a whisper. She waited patiently for your answer as you both sat in silence before you nodded in response. With that, her hand that had brushed the hairs from your face, slowly made its way to the back of your neck as you both leaned forward and-

“Hey, I found this place that sells food down the road and I- Oh. You’re here.” Taigen had barged into the room, not a singular care in the world as he looked at Mizu with his usual disdain. By this point you had already jumped back from her, being startled by Taigens sudden presence while in such an intimate moment.

With a cold glare Mizu looked towards Taigen,

“What do you want?” She spat. She could get over him annoyingly asking for a duel every now and then but ruining this one moment for her was too far. She finally felt safe and warm in someone else’s embrace and the same man who ruined everything else for her had to come back and fuck something else up.

Before either of them could say any other ‘kind’ words to each other you very quickly made your way to exit the room, not wanting to think about the awkward moment any more than you’d have to.

“I’m going to go… find some things for Ringo. I’ll see you later Mizu, bye Taigen.” You said, very quickly making your way out of the room, leaving both Mizu and Taigen together. Mizu had watched you leave with a certain sadness that you could only really see in her eyes, the rest of her face remained as stoic as ever as she turned back to Taigen.

“New hair style? You look oddly feminine wi-“ The man began, pointing towards her still braided hair.

“Say another word and you’ll lose an arm.” She threatened.

“Noted.”

[khaire-traveler]

🪽 Subtle Hermes Worship 📨

Keeping a journal of letters addressed to Hermes; you can also use a code name for him, such as "diary", if needed

Keeping a picture of him in your wallet

Collecting coins and shiny objects

Writing letters to friends or loved ones who live far away

Writing stories and poems

Having imagery of feathers, wings, turtles, or hares around (feathers and wings are especially good in a Christian household)

Having rabbit, turtle, sheep, hawk, or ram stuffed animals

Wearing jewelry that reminds you of him; a caduceus necklace is extremely easy to find online and is often associated with other things but is still a major symbol of Hermes

Having a candle that reminds you of him (no altar needed)

Dedicating any morning drinks to him (coffee, tea, energy drinks, etc.)

Participating in any sport

Making a list of jokes or quotes that make you laugh

Making a list of good memories

Watching comedians, live or online

Engaging in activities that bring you joy

Spending time with loved ones

Spending time with pets and bonding with them

Volunteering at a homeless or animal shelter

Honoring deceased loved ones, including pets

"Borrowing" things from big corporations

Setting money aside to save if/when possible

Exploring new places you've never been

Supporting small businesses

Taking a walk

Learning non-obvious forms of divination (cartomancy, shufflomancy, pyromancy, etc.)

Keeping a dream journal

Exercising if able; get some movement throughout the day

Creating something with your hands or imagination (writing, drawing, carving, something inventive and creative)

Donating items you no longer need

Buying a meal for someone who needs one

Showing kindness towards your fellow human

Making a list of things that made you happy throughout the day and that you're looking forward to

Carrying a good luck charm on you; keep a lucky coin

Collecting souvenirs from new places, even just the next town over

If you have a car or bike, show it some love

Be kind to animals; feed neighborhood dogs, cats, birds, etc.

Volunteer at an animal shelter or farm; volunteer at a homeless shelter

-

May add more later! This is my list of discreet ways to worship Hermes, so far. Please enjoy, and take care! 🧡

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

[whathorselegs]

Reading Storming Bringer, and the phrase in this quote's got me thinking

'That was when Chuuya noticed Verlaine's lingering gravity was absorbing the metallic particles'

But, at this point in the story, Verlaine was unconscious until a few seconds ago and he's not coherent when he wakes up and the narration doesn't mention him specifically activating his ability in relation to whats happening to him.

Just his 'lingering gravity'.

And a little before this, there's this quote:

'The battle was over, but the remnants of the gravitational waves were still rumbling through the woodlands'

Again more lingering effects of Verlaine's ability, this time affecting the landscape where he used his ability.

So like, what if, when Chuuya or Verlaine use their abilities an excessive amount, their person and/or the space they used it in gets distorted for a while.

Imagine Chuuya almost having a magnetic pull for a bit. He reaches for his mug and as his hand gets closer it slides towards him. He's walking down the street in autumn and the leaves keep sticking to him like he's full of friction.

Or sometimes it's a push and objects keep sliding away from him. Someone bumps into him in the hallway and they get pushed back. Chuuya has to try and explain he didn't just shove them. His pen keeps rolling away from him on his desk when he goes to note something down.

What if, for a while the gravity was just messed up in Suribachi City and anywhere else Chuuya activated Corruption??

Imagine if there was a myth that the centre of Suribachi was heavier than the outer circle, that you couldn't jump as high, that if you carried a crate towards he centre of the city you would literally feel it increasing in weight. The older houses all lean towards the centre, some people say it's the terrible craftsmanship of cheap houses, other say it the strange pull of Suribachi city. Rumours that you could never really leave the city because you would feel the heart of it pulling you right back.

Imagine the forest where he fought Lovecraft being literally scarred as the trees all seem lean into the clearing, their branches all stretching in and down towards the centre. The animals instinctively avoiding that space because they know something is off and they don't like it. If the birds fly too close to the ground they get confused.

People tell stories of the monster that appeared in the alley way one day and ate half the street. When they tried to rebuild houses there, accidents kept happening on the construction site, nobody could explain it, but the air just felt dense. As if the creature that ate the street did not want humans to reclaim it.

Just Chuuya unintentionally being the cause of many "supernatural" sites in Yokohama.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Specs of Stardust (platonic)

I really can’t wait to get to determination! Y/n and the straw hats so instead I thought I’d post little interactions/headcanons of some of the stuff they’d do

I swear I’m working on the Roger pov it’s just this popped into my head and sometimes switching between things in writing helps with my burnout

Masterlist for the series here

Tagged: @peachsuka28 @emptynessinmyworld @badluckinfrench @j-s-l-m @tigerfang-rage @madokamagicaa @rymtea @angstylittleb1tch @badluckinfrench @emmbny @kenkenmaaa @yunho-leeknow @chibiduck @spqce-bun @coca-cola-fiend @Koifishpoond

Luffy

The best way to describe these two in a room is that Luffy does something stupid and y/n just goes with the flow following him

The rabid golden retriever and the chill black cat

The dumbass duo, rabid dumbass and chill dumbass

Once did the impossible and shared food with y/n because they gave him a dessert Sanji made (the rest of the crew thought they were mass hallucinating)

Y/n gives him cool rocks that they find, they’ve both now made it a goal to collect a rock from every place they go

Gives y/n piggyback rides 24/7

And no one else can give y/n piggyback rides cause that’s captains privilege apparently

Occasionally when going into battle he gives y/n his straw hat to keep safe

Has semi-adopted one of y/n’s crows named Aurelius which he aptly calls Steve. Aurelius does not like him nor being called Steve

Aurelius keeps pecking at him but Luffy thinks it’s showing affection

Both throw caution to the wind about their own personal safety but if the other is hurt they will pummel someone

When he accidentally ends up in the ocean y/n jumps in after to save him forgetting they’ll sink too

Y/n acts a distraction for Sanji so Luffy can raid the fridge at 3 am

When y/n sleeps in the male quarter (they do regular switches between the female and male sleeping quarters) he has y/n tell him stories to make him go to bed easier

Likes to make y/n laugh

Likes to pinch Luffy cause they think it’s funny how he’s rubber

When Luffy says something really stupid sometimes y/n likes to write it down in a journal exclusively called “Luffy quotes”

So far some of y/n favourites are “the colour orange is named after oranges”, “if I get reincarnated I wanna be a clam”, “I am rubber and you are fat, don't you dare touch my hat” and “if you hungry, eat”

Sometimes the two of them make weird animal calls to scare Ussop

Speaking of the two, unfortunately for the rest of the crew they now have to deal with Luffy’s pranks now getting worse because y/n actually helps him plan them now

Ussop still has nightmares of when he woke up covered in bird seed and was almost taken away by the flock

As does Sanji when he realizes he’s been betrayed by y/n who’s let Luffy raid the fridge once more

Sometimes y/n likes to ask him about his childhood, they find it so oddly funny that he’s the son of Dragon, grankid of Garp, became brother of Ace and was semi-adopted by shanks

They also like to hear about it cause they always worried Ace wouldn’t find good people

Luffy whines it’s unfair y/n doesn’t fully die in water like he would before being smacked on the head by either Nami or Sanji

When having to give history exposition y/n is the only one who can dumb it down so Luffy can understand and pay attention for over 2 seconds

Sometimes will proceed to forget y/n asleep on his back and jump into battle

Even when finding out y/n is immortal has still not figured out their connection with Ace or Roger

Both like to sit on the figure head of the ship and occasionally nap there

By doing this not have fell off several times only for Zoro to save them

Luffy just kinda somehow know how y/n is feeling and y/n similarly knows how Luffy is feeling

Instead of buying Luffy stuff y/n just shares whatever they get with him since they have relatively the same taste in nick knacks

Similarly Luffy kinda just shares his stuff with them in return

The Luffy and y/n stuff pile is ever growing

Luckily Nami has not yet found out about it

Ussop on the other hand has and is joining in on the stuff pile

As does chopper

No one can really distinguish who’s stuff was who’s anymore but they don’t care

They now have an entire storyline happening with different characters

Y/n has a new journal for this exclusively for lore

Both are always hungry, while Luffy is open about it y/n isn’t

Somehow though Luffy caught onto this and now demands for for the both of them

“Shishishishi tell me another one!” Your captain says excitedly rocking back and forth as you both sit on the merrys figurehead, smiling you nod thinking of what to tell him “have I told you about the time I met a samurai?”

You jolt awake with a small groan as you lift your head off of resting in the crook of Luffy’s neck, the sounds of battle now invading your ears. “Luffy did you have to get the marines attention when I was sleeping on your back?” At hearing this the boy pauses, his extended out rubber arm hitting a marine in the face sending the guy flying back “shishi sorry”. At that you can’t help but sigh, he most definitely wasn’t.

Sitting at the table you watch as Luffy lists off the entire menu to the poor waiter, the retail worker shaking in their boots as he seemingly finishes and their gaze turns to you. “Oh, I’m fine-“ before you can finish Luffy cuts you off with a blinding grin “they’ll have the same as me!” And then you see the waiter’s hope drain even more impossibly so from their eyes.

Zoro

Mihawks reluctant kids that ended up on his island and he accidentally adopted duo

Before knowing their immortal he thought that they were mihawks secret love child or something after baratie

Bribes y/n with sword lessons if they side with him against Sanji

Sometimes the two of them switch bandana’s

When he naps sometimes y/n joins him, when this happens he makes sure to take a protective hold of them just in case of turbulent waves

Other times when he naps he’ll wake up with an umbrella set up for him

Doesn’t know it’s y/n and Chopper who put flowers in his hair when he’s knocked out and assumes it’s Sanji which leads to a yelling match

Speaking of chopper, both he and y/n like to hang off of Zoro’s arms like monkey bars and zoro uses them as weights when he’s doing push ups

When he ends up lost y/n somehow has the miraculous uncanny ability to find him

But sometimes when he gets lost y/n ends up joining him for fun

Has kept y/n from unknowingly being mauled by wild animals because for some reason they either love or hate y/n

Likes to ask them about any swordsmen they’ve met on their journeys

The one who typically has to save Luffy and y/n when they end up in water

Y/n likes to joke that he and Sanji are an old divorced couple to others on the crew much to his chagrin

Zoro’s actually pretty observant of y/n due to their instinct to shrug off injuries

Y/n calls out this hypocrisy but it doesn’t change anything

He actually really ends up liking y/n’s flock when the murder of crows occasionally stop by

The one he really connects with though is one named Acantha

She likes to perch on his scabbards and seems to almost guard them when he’s not around

Y/n once fell down the stairs and he almost had a heart attack

After this he instinctively watches to make sure they don’t fall again

When y/n has nightmares and cries in their sleep he almost always ends up waking up

It keeps him up at night

The mornings after he subtly tries to keep an eye on them to see if their ok

Y/n about to fight a one off villain and being confused they ran off without them doing anything, Zoro behind them glaring with his swords out at said villain

Whenever y/n is on look out duty he typically volunteers to do it with them or take over for them

Sometimes game stares off into space he gets their attention by flicking their forehead

Has and continues to use y/n as an arm rest since chopper is too short in comparison

Has fell asleep while doing this but is always woken up by Sanji yelling at him

Will either carry y/n slung over his shoulder or tucked between his arm and side

Y/n constantly wonders how he talks with a sword in his mouth

Or how he came up with that idea in the first place

Sometimes when they end up islands y/n buys him sword themed things, like sword polish or even a small rack to display them

In return Zoro buys y/n journaling gear since he sees them sometimes writing in a small diary and also gets them things that he notices catches their eye

….100% bought y/n the journal of Uta that needs a password and when opened loudly plays a low quality version of Genesis

He regrets this decision when he’s woken up to it at 3 am

“Y/n where are we? Luffy said he’d meet us around this time in the centre of this town” the green haired swordsman says looking around at the people who were also in the same abandoned building as the two of you. They all looked weird, one was a big muscle dude, another looked like a ninja with pink hair, a samurai, a blond dude in a tracksuit and some weirdo with a forehead tattoo. “Zoro how do we always end in situations like this?” You ask.

“I’ll teach you more sword tricks if you agree with me next time Swirly brows gets in a fight with me” he says suddenly waking up from his nap as you rested tucked between his arm, for a moment there’s silence and then you nod making him give an almost vicious grin towards the kitchen of the merry.

“So wait, you thought I was mihawks kid?” You question with an eyebrows quirked up, zoro with a bit of embarrassment nods. “Well, I assumed so since he gave you that little blade of yours” he says pointing a finger to Mihawks gift currently in its scabbard “but he just gave me a sword? How does that make you think I’m his kid?”. He gives you an impressed stare, “Mihawk does not just gift anyone anything let alone a sword plus whatever else he gave you. Doesn’t help that he acted like your damn dad afterwards” and after hearing that you let out a small “oh”.

Sanji

The seafood duo, aka the 5 michelin star chef and the kid who once boiled and ate their own boots (it was not tasty but they did it)

Since Sanji was the first strawhat encountered who knew y/n previously (the others being Chopper, Brook and Jimbe) he Was the first one to know about y/n’s immortality due to his prior experience with them

So it’s safe to say that he takes that secret to heart especially when y/n says they aren’t quiet ready to reveal themself just yet

It still felt too soon and they wanted to be treated normal for a bit longer (their words not his)

So he respects that decision even if he knows Luffy and the others wouldn’t make it a big deal

If anything Luffy would probably think it’s cool and move on

But even if that’s his opinion he swears to keep that secret until their comfortable

And he does so with the upmost respect he can and even covers for y/n sometimes

Due to knowing y/n he’s also the one who worries for them the most, especially when realizing the stories they once told on that island have become more fractured in time

Even their memory of that place is much more hazy

Like a film put over a picture, changing its focus and making it blurry

So he does his best to remind y/n, adding in the details he remembers them now forgetting as they write down the stories

Bribes y/n like Zoro to help win arguments via making them any sweet or desert of their fancy

When y/n is aimlessly pacing around deck he has them help out in the kitchen quite a bit!

Typically he has them help with preparing small things but lets them help with bigger tasks once learning they have some prior kitchen experience

At a port he got y/n an apron that matched his and he had Nami embodier it with their name

Is going insane trying to figure out y/n’s preferences because they say their literally fine with anything

Has made them go through entire taste tests and still cannot figure anything out

He’s chainsmokes more than usual after yet another failed test when y/n says they don’t mind salted black liquorice

Cries and chain smokes when y/n tells him they once boiled and ate their own boots

Almost cried when they pick up on some of his French words

Calls y/n stuff like “petite étoile” and “petite lueur”

After Alabasta y/n joking calls him “Mr. Prince” from time to time

Whenever he makes stuff for Nami and Robin he also makes some for y/n

When Luffy complains about this he always says “women and children come first”

Y/n sometimes clings to his legs, he always chuckles and lets them do so unless it’s dangerous

The only one allowed to raid the kitchen for snacks other than Chopper is y/n

Both of them abuse this privilege but he can’t resist their combined puppy eyes

Once finding out through Luffy that y/n is more hungry than they say they are he now makes them bigger portions

He swears they have a similar stomach to Luffy but he can’t be mad at them

Not when they seem to starve themself rather than tell others their hungry

Due to this he now carries small snacks just in case

Wants to meet whoever “Thatch” is so they can trade recipes and have a cook off

Also to find out through him how he feeds over 1000 people cause he has 2000 stomachs due to the combined forces of Luffy and y/n

Was at first iffy about the crows until a bunch of the birds started eating the leftover scraps he couldn’t incorporate into dishes or was going bad

So he grows to like the feathered flock since they help in not wasting anything

His favourite is one named Blanche who’s an albino crow the murder adopted as their own after finding her abandoned

She reminds him of a dove and of how he too was abandoned by a previous family but found a new one

She also delivers letters back fourth from Zeff for him

He adds a little blue ribbon tied to her leg

When staying in the boys quarters y/n often times has Sanji help them in taking care of themself properly

Mostly cause y/n would just pass out on the floor or stay up till 6 pm if not

Brushes y/n’s hair if Nami or Robin doesn’t do it

Also loves to style it via y/n’s suggestion

let’s y/n borrow his clothes when seeing that Nami had to drag them to a clothing store to actually buy them something other than the clothes they wear everyday

Sanji will never admit it but sometimes he has nightmares of when they had died and on those nights silently checks to make sure their still there

Y/n will never admit to him how many times they’ve starved to death alone on their raft

Mostly for his own peace of mind and their own

Y/n likes to buy Sanji food themed stuff like magnets, dishes and keychains

Sanji meanwhile buys them candies and other odd things he’d think y/n would like, for example Hawaiian shirts and plushies

“Petite étoile! I made you something!” Sanji yelled across the deck, looking towards him you see a Soda float on a small platter. Luffy eyes it hungrily though Sanji notices and he swiftly knocks the young captain with his leg. You giggle out a “thanks Sanj” which makes the swirly browed preen in a mixture of pride and genuine happiness.

“And that’s when…..” pausing in your story you try to think back, the details of which now seemed to escape you. Sanji clears his throat, giving you a sad smile as he then adds in for you “that’s when the musician taught you piano” at that your memory jogs slightly and you smile “and ukulele”

Sitting at the table you eye the small labeled plates with different tastes and textures, all tasted good and even if it didn’t you’d still eat it. But despite that Sanji sits across from you with a defeated look on his face, cigarette sitting numbly in his mouth. “Sanji it’s on really, I’m fine with anything” at saying this his temper seems to flare ever so slightly, something that reminds you of Zeff “you have to have some preference!”. “Well I mean…I ate my boots before. Nothing can be worse than that” once more that seemed to be the wrong thing to say as the cigarette falls from his mouth as he mutters “you what?!?”

Nami

The orange blossom pair

Is one of the first to pick up on the fact y/n might be immortal due to Arlong one day talking about a human child on the sun pirates boat before one that had betrayed them

At the time Nami wrote it off though, more horrified at the fact y/n was a pirate

It brought up a lot of memories of her childhood she does not like to reminisce on

But before joining the crew and after she tends to stick nearby y/n as a big sister presence

Not hovering over their shoulder but just far enough away to watch and make sure their ok

Especially when she wasn’t initially sure if Luffy and Zoro

To be honest Nami always wanted to be a big sister, especially since she in a way wants to make up for everything Nojiko went through due to her

So she takes to caring for y/n the best she can

Especially when seeing that y/n does not to care of themself at all

She’s plain horrified at how they walk off a broken leg, haven’t had a bath in months that wasn’t in salt water, doesn’t care for their hair and leaves stuff stuck in it, along with essentially starving themself sometimes

Nami quickly makes it a goal to change that with the efforts of Sanji

She gives y/n “discounts” when she charges the crew for stuff

The discount is actually free because she’d feel too guilty in charging a child

Along with the fact that y/n spends the pocket money she gives them on gifts for everyone but themself

Speaking of which she charges said person who got a gift with an import fee because that money the gift was purchased with was technically Nami’s

The only one who does not object to this fee is Sanji

Another fee she makes is a y/n hug fee, since as y/n’s appointed big sister she thinks y/n should be compensated for being hugged by a bunch of stinky boys

Teaches y/n about Tangerines and oranges, specifically how to grow them!

Likes to peel oranges for y/n and share them together as a snack as they ramble on about a place they’ve been

In the small garden for her fruits she lets y/n plant some hibiscus plants that y/n cryptically says reminds them of a friend they miss

Is confused as fuck how y/n seems to know almost all the islands they end up on

After finding out y/n is immortal she often asks about past navigators they’ve met and some of the most interesting places they’ve been to

Has to drag y/n to take them shopping because they insist their fine with one pair of clothes

She argues otherwise and can’t help but bristle once finding out their immortal that for years they’ve worn the same thing

It reminds her too much of her childhood, of Bellemere scraping together what she could even when the villagers gave her discounts for clothes

Buys them an entire wardrobe and complains when they borrow the other crews clothes

In reality she doesn’t mind and finds it cute

Has to fashion police y/n because they have no sense of shame and will wear the most god awful combinations of clothes

When y/n sleeps in the girls quarters Nami has their bed set up to be in the middle between her and Robin

That way if a night attack happens y/n is the most safe

And that way Nami can wake them up when their having a nightmare

Carries y/n like throwing a moneybag over her shoulder, it’s partially due to reflex and cause when she has to do this it’s typically in a shit situation

Y/n sometimes sees a small pink spark over Nami’s shoulder when she gets really excited

They haven’t told her yet though

Y/n likes to show Nami the stuff they’ve collected over the years

Especially their jewelry gifted to them

Nami from the moment of meeting the flock saw money signs (lol)

The crows have now been ordered to steal stuff and they bring it to her to examine and evaluate

They also heckle the poor news birds into giving discounts or plain for free

Besides their monetary gain she genuinely likes their presence quite a bit

They not only valiantly guard her tangerines from other less behaved animals but also help her in charting islands

Her favourite is one named Axel, he’s on the older side with a scar across his eye

He not only has an eye for valuable things but also acts as a guard for both the young fledglings and Nami

Y/n likes buying Nami jewelry and navigation gear along with sharing their writing supplies with her

Nami meanwhile buys y/n clothes and some jewelry for them

Sitting beneath the tangerine tree you watch as the hibiscus you planted for Rouge sway lightly In the breeze, your gaze lingers there before Nami lightly touches your shoulder making you jolt. “Here” she offers you a peeled tangerine with a smile, you take it popping the sweat fruit into your mouth. “How much will I owe you?” You ask enjoying the sweet taste, at that she laughs “I need a tester to make sure my product is good. Just consider it free since you’re doing me a favour”. Smiling you nod, not commenting how Sanji would be the better pick for this “job”.

“I still don’t get how you’d gone so long with no other pairs of clothes” Nami mutters whilst holding up two pairs of shirts your size “which do you like? Or do you want both?”. Looking at the clothes you point to the one held up by her left hand, the Hawaiian shirt with a funky pattern. “I knew you’d pick this one” her eyes are layered in fondness even if she gives a small sigh “I’m a creature of habit….besides Mihawk gave me those pyjamas so technically I now have more than one pair”

Waking up to from nightmare your typically used to the sight of the night sky but you awake with Nami’s worried face. Shakily you sit up, “h-hey I’m ok” it’s more said for her sake rather than your own. Despite your words Nami pulls you close, silently letting you clutch onto her like a lifeline as the scent of oranges and tangerines linger as does that small spark of pink just above her shoulder.

Ussop

The story teller duo! Aka the liar and the immortal

Honestly Ussop and y/n are a little dynamic duo of scaredy cat and unfazed who’s dragging the other into a haunted house

Except the haunted house in this case is literally every dangerous situation known to man

Poor Ussop has got it cut out for him more than usual when y/n is around

Something he notices fairly quickly

But he’s too committed in looking cool in front of them and cause he sure as hell isn’t leaving them alone for more than 15 minutes cause they’ll for sure somehow traumatize someone

Another thing he picked up on lol

There’s a Recurring joke with him and y/n when y/n remembers something important at the last minute and he yells that they have the memory of a goldfish

Though y/n’s title is the straw hats storyteller, they really like listening to Ussop’s stories

Though they knows his is fake they enjoy it better that way

Because that means there’s always a happy ending

Something that not all of their stories have

Similarly, though he sometimes gets afraid when they tell their stories, Ussop really likes listening to theirs as well

Mostly for the fact that though some of them are sad their genuinely heart touching most of the time

Y/n tells their tales in a way that captivates just about everyone around them

Something Ussop really admires

Both know and acknowledge each others skills

And sometimes the two of them will collaborate together in figuring out how to make their adventures more engaging when written down

Y/n and Ussop sometimes do commentary when watching Sanji and Zoro fight

Ussop during these commentary of the fighting matches writes down his favourite insults that he and y/n then giggle about later on

Their favourite so far is when Sanji called Zoro Durian in both appearance and smell

Ussop is the one to help y/n in their “disguises”

Aka supplying the fake moustaches

In similar fashion y/n helped make him the SogeKing mask before Water 7

Ussop has y/n test out his inventions and has them teach him new hobbies

To keep from the ever looming fear away Ussop tries to keep himself busy

Something y/n is a pro at and helps him pick up some of the hobbies they’ve learned over the years

On Sundays y/n teaches him and Robin how to do Pottery

Which helps out Sanji because of the amount of broken plates due to Luffy is uncountable

Calls y/n the first mate of the Ussop pirates

He will never admit it but when he misses Ninjin, Tamanegi and Piiman he ends up lingering near y/n cause they sometimes remind him of his old “crew”

Speaking of which y/n is the only one who he talks to about how much he sometimes misses syrup village

Specifically Kaya

Along with this he also confides to them about how he wonders if his dad would be proud of him or disappointed

It doesn’t happen often but occasionally it does really weight on him

But he trusts y/n’s judgment because they’ve met Yassop, and in the fact that they understand what it’s like to miss people

When this happens y/n also confides in Ussop about the people they miss too

Even people they don’t remember

It’s actually pretty sweet especially since on those nights the two of them just talk about how they genuinely feel

Something that is kinda rare for the two

To enhance each other’s stories the two now have started doing puppet shows!

Something they have Nami and Chopper help with in making the puppets

Ussop even made a mini stage out of popsicle sticks

Y/n uses Roger’s coat as the curtain

Ussop Is terrified of the crows especially after that time y/n and Luffy covered him in birdseed and was almost flown away by the murder

Along with superstitions he’s heard about them being bad luck

But the crows love him

Like they really love him, almost as much as chopper

It’s god damn comical watching him run away in terror meanwhile these little feathered fiends are chasing after him with puppy eyes asking for love

The only crows he likes are the baby ones

The little fledglings who (unfortunately for him) find perching on his nose to be the most optimal of places

But their cute as hell so he lets it slide

For now

This then perpetuates the cycle of them growing older and him being terrified of them but them loving him

Y/n finds it funny as hell

But he eventually comes around to them when y/n has them exchange letters between him and Kaya

As well as sending gifts and flowers back to syrup without the items getting lost or rotting

sometimes y/n and Ussop swap headscarves

Y/n likes to buy Ussop random stuff for him to use in inventions

Ussop likes to buy y/n crafts that they can do together (as well as with Chopper)

“And that’s how I, captain Ussop! Defeated the unstoppable man after 3 days of fighting with my 3000 men!” At hearing that you nod enthusiastically as Chopper chimes in about how cool that was. You smile, thinking back to those 3 whole days Roger and fought Whitebeard before recruiting Oden temporarily to the crew. “What did you do afterwards?” You ask making the long nosed sniper perk up, he thinks for a moment before he continues his “tale”.

“Uhhhh Ussop” you say watching as the sniper who currently tinkered away at some new contraption break from his concentration. “Oh hey! Whats up?” It comes out casually as he turns to look at you as you give him an almost apologetic look which makes his brows furrow. Wordlessly you point to the nearby open port window. One of your crows sits there, tilting its head at him “oh no-“ before he can get another word out it lets out a squawk and other feathered little devils start flying in through the window.

“Your dad is more proud of you than I think you know” you say this with utter confidence and it makes Ussop stumble for a moment. “Really?” He asks this in a quiet tone, almost unsure before you nod and smile “it’s all he talked about when I was on the red force. So you best believe it”

Chopper

Cherry blossom duo!

Was the second member of the crew to know about y/n’s immortality due to recognizing the picture of them with Hiriluk

Something that the little reindeer kept tucked away in a small slit in his hat Kureha added to it

So it’s safe to say that he’s ecstatic, confused and freaking out

Though luckily Sanji and y/n were able to talk with him

And to be honest Chopper gets why their scared to tell the others

He’d be scared in their situation! So he keeps the secret as best he can!

Though there were definitely a few occasions he nearly slipped up lol

As the two youngest members on board both Chopper and y/n band together quite a bit

Partially because of the fact that in mental age their close and because their both just natural sweethearts

Chopper finds it funny that despite being the oldest y/n is also one of the youngest

Both are the cutest mf’s out there that Nami 100% uses to guilt others into getting discounts

Y/n and him unfortunately for her also use the puppy eyes on her to get her to peel their tangerines

Chopper thinks of y/n as a big sibling and very much heavily admires them

Y/n similarly thinks of Chopper as a little brother and admires his medical knowledge despite his age

Both have made each other bff bracelets with little sakura charms

Sometimes when chopper gets sad about Hiriluk y/n tells chopper about their experiences with him

And that he would be proud of chopper

That Kureha is proud

And that their proud of the person Hiriluk took as his own because y/n knows chopper will become the best doctor ever

Every time this happens Chopper sobs

Similarly in the moments when y/n is lost (mostly since they don’t like being overly emotional about their feelings or trauma) Chopper likes to become kinda a therapy animal and let y/n pet his fur to calm them down

Along with that chopper also tries to have them open up about how their feeling

Y/n thinks choppers blue nose looks like a blueberry so they sometimes call him that

Chopper gets super “angry” about it (not really, the only times he’s angry at y/n is when they shrug off an injury)

Speaking of which, he gets really worried for y/n and their careless tendencies

He knows their immortal but he wishes they’d care for themself to at least show him their injuries even if their small

It reminds him of Hiriluk since he had also written off his disease and pain as nothing

The parallels between the two of them really make Chopper worried about losing someone again

Like he knows y/n would come back but having to watch someone you love die is still really traumatic

And the amount of times he’s almost had a heart attack from y/n narrowly dodging death isn’t healthy

Now is it healthy for the others either lol

When in his more deer-like form he lets y/n sit on his back! He bashfully preens in pride when they call him their loyal steed

Let’s y/n decorate his horns with little do-dads and charms

His favourite is the little sakura themed ones they bought at a spring island for him

They have done the two kids on a trench coat routine before and it’s somehow worked

The funny thing is that y/n was the legs and chopper was the upper half

Both make inside jokes about the rest of the crew

Both also occasionally goad Sanji and Zoro into fights

They watch with Luffy while eating popcorn

Talks with the flock all the time! He gossips with them and they all adore him so much

He doesn’t have a favourite and loves all of them

Especially since they all try and bring him herbs or steal him medical supplies from islands the crew dock on

The crows love to dote on him, even calling him one of their flock just like the others on the crew

It makes him happy since he gets a bit of animal companionship that he never got and the fact that the flock accepts anyone no matter their looks

He’s scared to tell the birds about how his birth family kicked him out since he knows they’ll try to get revenge

Y/n likes that through chopper that they can now understand their crows

Something in which makes the crows absolutely ecstatic about and Chopper has to regal their constant pleas for attention and to let y/n know that their adored

He tends to their little injuries and puts little bandaids on their wounds

They like to perch on his antlers and he gets supper bashful when they call him their favourite crew member beside y/n

Chopper finds it funny they call y/n their god?

It’s weird but he just assumes that cause the crows explained to him how several generations back y/n had nursed to health their injured ancestors

While y/n stays in the men’s quarter Chopper and y/n set up a little sleepover tent

Both typically fall asleep in the tent and Sanji or Zoro have to put them in their proper beds rather than sleeping on the floor

While sleepy y/n sometimes thinks chopper is a stuffed animal

Both cling to one another when tired (it’s adorable)

Y/n likes to buy Chopper Sakura themed things or medicinal herbs and books that they’d think he’d like

Chopper on the other hands buys y/n things they can do together or with the crew like puzzles or little crafts

“Ahhh!!! What happened to your arm?!?!” The young reindeer doctor practically screams as his widened eyes look at your bloody and bruised arm that’s also bent the wrong way. The rest of the crew whom you’d been trying to hide it from look to you, whoops. “Uhhhh….it was an accident?” You say this and before you can blink your being dragged to choppers medical bay, darn, you’d sneak past them next time

Sitting down on the flooring of the merry you thread your fingers through choppers soft fur. Your breathing still heavy and shaky as your mind comes down from focusing on bad memories. It takes a few minutes sitting there focusing on the sensation of his fur but eventually you find yourself of sound mind again. Tears staining your cheeks as you mumble a thanks to the doctor who nods. “A doctor has to look out for his patients in health and mind” is what he says making you smile ever so slightly.

“Hey chopper what did Rosemary tell you?” You asked looking quizzically at the Crow perched on his antlers, he looks up to bird listening as she squawks again. “She said that big crow, big lizards and Yama missed you? Who’s that?” He translates then giving you a curious look, you think for a moment then coming up with an answer “oh…she means king and the others”. He nods at the answer before then asking “who’s king? Wait! Do you know royalty?!?”

Robin

History duo, ones is a literal archeologist and the other is the ancient ass artifact

After chopper she’s the third person to know of y/n’s immortality due to watching them die with crocodile

While working with crocodile she didn’t talk to y/n directly too much but did try and look out for them in the shadows

She’s also been praying that y/n wouldn’t end up in Alabasta nor that crocodile would find them again lol

But that didn’t exactly go as planned

Once joining the crew y/n is one of the few to trust Robin partially due to their prior knowledge of her and experience with her

Both feel extreme sympathy for one another, especially once realizing they were both children hunted down by the government

Robin like with Chopper uses her abilities to tickle y/n

Robin cannot count the amount of times her ability has saved y/n without them knowing

Before Brook joined y/n would ask Robin to use her power to make arms and lift y/n up to see stuff lol

Sometimes with the sprouted arms y/n likes to play rock paper scissors with them which makes Robin laugh

Y/n eventually has Robin help in writing in their journal to remember things since they trust her perspective more than their own

Because these two both know Poneglyph’s the two gossip via notes to one another in the language

Robin when reading history books and finds something about y/n shows it to them

It’s now an inside joke between the two of them

They also make it an activity to skim through accounts of things and try to find y/n

What sad though is that in some accounts where it’s clearly y/n mentioned y/n can’t actually remember it

And for awhile y/n just gets kinda quiet and excuses themself

She does not mentioned their reddened eyes when she sees them again

But just offers them a hug

In a certain way, Robin kinda projects what she wish she had as a kid into y/n as a form of self healing

Especially after Enies lobby

She wants to be there for them

Care for them in a way she wished others had cared for her

And it’s with this that Robin becomes a mother figure to y/n

She’d tender and caring to y/n in a way that just kinda makes them instinctively cling to her presence

Her warm hugs and floral scent remind y/n distantly of their mom (or they think it does)

They know Robin isn’t her (no one can be) but Robin’s care and general warmth towards them just makes y/n really happy

Hugs galore

As well as Robin helping Nami take care of y/n since they have no self care at all

Y/n constantly steals Robin’s cowboy hat (when she had it )

Like in pre-timeskip one piece Robin calls y/n by their title of “storyteller” but also refers to them by nicknames as well

Robin loves the crows so much, she has each of them memorized by name

As well as their preferences

Her favourite though is one named Hesta, she’s a quiet one of the flock and likes watch Robin read

May or may not use her devil fruit to pet all the crows

Ussop may have freaked out when seeing the entire murder on the ship with Robin’s hands sprouted from the deck everywhere

When she has mini dates with Franky y/n dressed up as a server with a fake moustache

They also have a fake French accent because they took inspiration from Sanji

Both her and Franky have to hold back laughing cause y/n gets really into it

Y/n likes buying Robin history stuff and letting her borrow their journals to read

Robin meanwhile likes to buy y/n things she sees interested them while on an adventure

(She may or may not have stolen a few things whoops)

“Hey Robin can you help me-“ before you can finish what you’re saying the historian finds herself at your side, already helping in tying your shoelaces. She smiles, “for all the skills you’d picked up over the years I’m surprised you hadn’t learned to tie them yet” it comes out as a giggle with makes you smile bashfully “I know how tie sailor knots and stuff but I don’t think they work for boots”

“Y/n, do you want to help me write some the poneglyph’s? I want to look them over later and put what we have in order” Robin asks making you pause from tracing the forgotten language with your hands. You nod, then pulling out your journal and opening up a new page. “Sounds good to me. Should I include me and Roger’s messages?” At hearing that she nods, a curious smile on her face. “Of course.”

“What happened to you was never right, you deserved better than what the world gave you” hearing this makes her go still as the still sleeping Nami tosses and turns in her sleep. “You didn’t deserve what happened to you either. Neither of us did” when she says this you see tears glisten in moonlight as does she with your starry eyes.

Franky

Suuuuuperrrrrr Star duo!

Like a few others of the straw hats he actually met y/n in his childhood

Specifically because of the Roger pirates when they had stopped in water 7 with Oden

So it’s safe to say after everything in water 7 and Enies lobby he definitely knows y/n is immortal

Though after Franky beat up Ussop y/n kinda takes a little while to warm up to him again at

But Y/n comes around quick on Franky when seeing him help try and save Robin

And after he joins the crew y/n becomes his obligatory little helper!

Since y/n likes to be constantly doing stuff Franky has them help him do repairs on the ship and check for anything that needs to be fixed

He says he can’t fit in a lot of the smaller crevices (which he technically can’t) but normally he’d just use some invention of his

But y/n doesn’t need to know that, not when they get excited in helping

Franky 100% teaches y/n to do poses with him

Nami is half tempted to strangle him for this when y/n did the “suupppeerr” pose after a battle

Unfortunately for her dumbass number 2 (aka Luffy) joins in and then Ussop as well

Y/n in the morning likes to help style Franky’s hair, he wonder’s who Vivi is and why his hair colour reminds them of her

Y/n is also the reason why Franky’s hair is now styled occasionally like sea creatures

His favourite is when they style it as a shark or whale

He shivers each time he looks at y/n’s “ship”

Especially when they say that she’s a fine sea-craft (she not)

He just nods along

Back when he was a kid he was also equally appalled back then about it and had offered to make it better

But just like back then y/n refuse

And somehow that dinky thing always seems to end back up at the ship even when in a storm it ends up lost at sea

Y/n sits on his arm all the time, especially when he is in a muscle man pose

They think it’s funny

He thinks it’s funny when steal his sunglasses

The two of them have single-handedly increased the amount of Hawaiian shirts owned by the straw hats by about 70%

Sometimes when he misses the Franky family he talks to y/n about how they deal with leaving people they love

And y/n always talk about how they kinda deal with it

But it’s always hard

They miss a lot of people

Some of which they don’t remember but know they instinctively miss

It definitely helps him

But it also highlights to Franky just how lonely they are

Because he joined later on he hasn’t seen or heard y/n talk about some of their experiences

He’s maybe heard some from iceberg or the other straw hats but they were always vague

It’s sad to him, especially since their short friendship with him had honestly made him feel less alone in the harder segments of his life

But knowing just how many people they had said goodbye to and would say goodbye to, the years afloat on that thing they call a ship by themself

Yeah, it really weighs on him

Because he gets it

Y/n is the only one for sure who knows that Robin and Franky eventually get together (frobin for real y’all)

They don’t tell anyone cause they just kinda assumed everyone already knew and forgot it was a secret lol

Despite this though, they accidentally cover for Robin and Franky when they go out on small dates

Y/n is somehow Franky’s ultimate wingman (wingperson?)

They suggest to him things they know Robin like or would like

The two of them like to paint a pair of stars on each of Franky’s inventions

A blue 5 pointed on for Franky and a smaller 4 pointed gold one for y/n

Y/n Is the only one on the crew besides Luffy to use the Franky fridge to store stuff

Specifically the snacks the other crew members give them through the day

Franky ends up building some birdhouses on the ship for crows who stay the night along with prosthetic limbs for birds who lost legs or even their wings

He doesn’t have a particular bird he prefers over the rest

He thinks all of them are SUUPPEERRRR

They seem to like his golden chain and shiny metal nose

Much to his amusement

Sometimes a chosen bird will be allowed to wear his sunglasses and it becomes the super bird of the day

This bird for that day gets to hang around on his head and gets a invention made for them

Y/n likes to buy Franky cool gadgets they find along with anything that has blue stars

Franky doesn’t buy y/n stuff but instead makes them things, typically little do-dads or even some puzzles to keep them preoccupied

“Hey Franky, do you need some help there?” You asked watching the blue haired shipwright peel himself away from repairing the mast of the ship. He grins, “Surre thing little helper!” He then tosses you a hammer that you luckily catch.

“What do you suggest I get Robin? I’m still debating between these two” the cyborg man questions as he holds up two different bouquets of fresh flowers. You peer between the two, examining them. “Robin would probably like the second one. Those flowers have meanings of “love” “companionship” and “appreciation” which would be the best choice. She’d like the effort behind them” you say before correcting your fake moustache and dusting off any dirt of your fake waiter uniform you stole from Sanji’s days at the baratie. “Should I have Hesta fly in and deliver them?” He adds making you respond “of course!”

Two cans of Cola clink together as you and Franky sit watching the horizon. “I can only imagine Oden’s face seeing that you’re now a pirate after saying you’d never be one, oh and Tom’s” you giggle as Franky nods “do you think they’d be happy?”. For a moment you ponder “I can’t say for sure….but I think so long as your happy they’d be”

Brook

Dead duo (lol) cause they’ve both died and come back to life (though one has done this significantly more than the other)

By the time he joins y/n being a immortal ain’t a secret anymore

Even if it was his emotional breakdown when seeing them again asking if he’s finally gone fully insane before hugging them would probably proof enough that their immortal

But anyway!!

For very obvious reasons Brook for a long while after reuniting is kinda stuck at y/n’s side

Partially because he’s still unsure if this is real and afraid he’ll wake up alone again

On that ship where only the damned souls of the sea like himself stay

Y/n seems to know this though and happily allows him to stay at their side as they hold onto his coat since he’s too tall for them to comfortably hold his hand

The annual amount of death and skeleton jokes have gone up exponentially because of the two of them alone

Both Brook and y/n cope via jokes and each other (as sad as that is)

The crew can’t help but deadpan at the amount of time the two have watched something horrific or head about it and said “same” or pointed to a skeleton and said “look it’s us!”

Brook doesn’t ask his pervert questions or jokes in front of y/n he’s too mortified to do so when he basically considered them his family

He once accidentally did and y/n asked what that meant and he wanted to curl up and die (again)

Y/n brings him milk and stuff with calcium saying he needs to build up bone density

He has yet to tell them he can’t drink it but he appreciates the gesture and gives it to Sanji instead so he can use it for recipes

Brook is the only person y/n talks to about the ways in which they’ve died

Mostly because he’s the only other person who can understand what its like

And because hearing vindication that what had happened to them was wrong kinda helps them process stuff

Because they should not have died as many as they’ve had let alone in such gruesome ways

Hearing it from Brook, someone who’d also faced the horrors of death and immortality really opens their eyes

Whenever Brook plays music y/n instinctively joins him in song

It’s just second nature to y/n at this point

Both are different versions of insane from immortality. While’s brooks is more noticeable for y/n’s it’s more subtle

Y/n likes to show Brook all the instruments and songs they learned after his death

Especially their ukulele skills much to his amusement

Neither can play Binks booze together without sobbing midway

Nor can Brook handle their stories of Laboon still waiting at reverse mountain

Nor can y/n handle hearing how Brook would see visions of them and the crew in his years of isolation

The rest of the straw hats can’t handle just how depressing that all is lol

He accidentally found y/n, Chopper and Luffy in their game and now has made a soundtrack for it

When y/n stays in the men’s quarter Brook sometimes has to check their still alive because of his fear they’ll die again

Y/n has played the xylophone on Brook’s ribcage much to Nami’s horror

Both of them pull the “as the oldest people on board” card

The two of them also call each other senior citizens and try and get discounts at places via Nami’s orders

Both always get kicked out

Y/n somehow learned the word “boner” from someone and asked Brook what that meant because he was made of bones

He wanted to die a second time 💀

He was mortified after that especially when y/n then taught that word to Luffy and chopper who joined in on asking him what it meant

Robin had to help him escape the questioning

When y/n can’t see anything they like to climb Brook to get a better view

Y/n also sometimes hides in his ribcage

The two of them share an atrocious fashion sense

The only difference is that Robin and Nami help in making sure y/n doesn’t end up in a floral shirt with polka dot shorts and sandals with socks

Brook is extremely proud of y/n’s skills that they picked up from him and his crew

The crows keep bringing Brook bones because they assume all skeletons they find somehow are parts of Brook

Y/n taught them to play the xylophone on Brook

The dead musician’s favourite crow is one named “crazy Pete” because he just picks shit up and starts whacking against the nearest surface

This making him the best xylophone player of the crows as well as the best drummer

The flock also uses his ribcage as a perch as well as his Afro in which they have built a nest in that he didn’t know about until baby birds hatched

He got to name the newborns and named some of them after his old crew

Y/n likes to buy Brook skeleton things (like those plastic Halloween skeletons lol) and music sheets for him to write new music

Brook gets y/n a bunch of weird mystical shit that y/n always ends up loving

“Yohohohoho! Are you up for a duet?” The old skeleton asks as he holds up his violin, you look up from the book you were reading a smile already stretching across your face. “Do you have to ask?” You reply back as you get up and get into position, if a skeleton could smile he would.

“Yo brook!” You yell already snickering under your voice “do you think we ought to buy some trombone’s? Or maybe some Xylobone’s?”. At that he lets out his signature laugh, “maybe, but they’d cost a Skelaton! Get it? Cause we’ve both died!” For a moment there’s a pause of silence between you both before the two of you burst out into laughter. Nami grumbles under her breath about you both being “numbskulls” before realizing her mistake, the two of you laugh even harder.

In the middle of the night you and Brook sit in the crows nest, the humming the Bink’s booze filling the silence beneath the stars. Because for now that’s enough.

Jinbe

Fisher duo! Would’ve gone with sun duo because of the sun pirates but that duo name probably fits y/n and ace more

By the time Jinbe joins everyone on the crew knows so he doesn’t need to keep the secret

Something that makes him hella realized about since he knows he’d have to jump through hoops somehow trying to explain why y/n knew him prior

Is always worried for y/n especially when realizing they already have a very small impulse control that melts away when Luffy is near

Like he is getting grey hairs as Robin and Nami emphatically pat his shoulder

Y/n loves to laze about on Jinbe, they’ll just randomly go up to him raise their arms up to be picked up and then just fall asleep or stay there

Y/n likes how warm he is along with how he’ll carry them around. Plus his more squishy and smooth textured skin on account of being a fishman is a texture that they like

Jinbe has accepted his role as a resting place for y/n

Something that now also extends to Luffy, chopper and sometimes Zoro as well

When not doing his duties on the ship he likes to listen to y/n’s recounts of things

He finds it pretty soothing as well as informative

If no one else is up to listen to y/n word vomit then Jinbe always has an ear open

His favourites are ones are those including Roger

He’d never known him, just knew about bits and pieces from Whitebeard so he’s especially interested in learning about him from someone else

Y/n sometimes like to ask him about fishman culture along with facts about mermaids as well!

Especially stuff about Joyboy

Something which makes Jinbe light up in pride

Head pats galore from this fishman once he finds out that y/n melts at that type of affection

Is the first to not question how y/n has befriended so many war criminals

Though his is curious how the hell Doflamingo ended up on that list

Speaking of which when y/n gets really scared or anxious he is quick to pick up on it

Just immediately picks up y/n leaves the situation while Luffy goes to beat up what caused the problem lol

Y/n when seeing him get odd looks gives people odd looks back

Especially when people ask where their parents were and they point to Jinbe as if it were the most obvious answer in the world

Y/n once has bitten someone who was being racist

While Jinbe was proud he was not happy with the fact they resorted to Luffy type behaviour

Definitely considers Jinbe a father figure

Something he holds in high regard especially when hearing how they think so highly about Roger

Due to Jinbe being a whale shark fishman y/n bought themself and him matching whale shark plushies

He got the smaller one while y/n got the mama

Jinbe may or may not have secretly cried about this

Because Jinbe is serious most of the time y/n has made it a sport in trying to surprise him

Like suddenly jumping from the crows nest into his arms or randomly appearing out of nowhere for hugs

Even if he’s upset with their recklessness he always ends up smiling

Much like the others he ends up as a resting spot for the crows, specifically the young ones just learning to fly

They always end up tucked into his kimono somehow but he doesn’t end up minding it much

Not when the combined forces of the baby birds and y/n give him puppy eyes

His all time favourite crow though is one named Pearl, she’s just a little sweetheart that loves to sit on his hands to be pet

To be honest he finds them all rather intriguing especially since crows typically aren’t this intelligent

Like sure typically their intelligent birds but these ones seem even moreso

it seems somehow they have increased perception?

He’s not sure as to why but leaves it as a “y/n thing”

Something that has become a trend in his will for questioning things

Don’t understand it? Probably a y/n thing so move on and accept it

Nami has been following in this mindset for awhile now

Y/n steals his robes despite them being too big

He purposely leaves them out when realizing they like to do this

Jinbe is the only one to know about y/n’s time as a slave and is the only one to know why they sometimes flinch when people touch their back

He’s also the only way who’s able to understand and comfort them when they silently stream out at the sea

At ports y/n likes to go shopping with Jinbe and though he says they don’t need to buy him anything they buy him sea themed stuff to remind him of fishman island

In similar fashion despite y/n saying that he doesn’t need to buy them anything he buys them charms for their bracelets and necklaces that represent a place they’ve been so they can keep track

“So Roger really could stand toe to toe with Whitebeard?” Jinbe asks as you nod with a smile “yeah, Roger despite having no devil fruit was extraordinarily strong and had extraordinary Haki. Plus Roger was Roger”. At hearing this explanation Jinbe nods but then inquires “what do you mean by that last part?” Which makes you lightly giggle before explaining “Roger is the only person besides maybe Luffy who would sneak onto a marine base, fist fight Garp the fist, raid the kitchen and then proceed to escape back to the Oro with the stolen food, treasure and highly classified government field he thought looked cool”

“Jinbe can I go up” you ask with your hands already reaching up to him and in position to be lifted. The fishman smiles, for an immortal you really were a kid still. He smiles. “Alright, do you also want to hear about fishman island again?” It’s not even really a question when he knows your answer but he asks either way and sees you nod. Pearl who’s perched on his shoulder makes room and finds a place between you and him.

It’s late in the night when he finds you sitting on the railing of the ship, silently looking out to sea just as you did all those years ago. He leans against the railing beside you, remembering not to touch your back at this time. “You got reminded of it again?” He asks on which he receives a full nod from you, “it was in the market, there were some propaganda posters about escaped slaves. I checked to see if I was on there, I wasn’t luckily, but it still left me feeling all flighty”. He frowns at that but nods. “Do you need me to stay with you for now?” You respond quickly without thought “yes….it burns Jinbe, my back burns again but I know the brands not there”

[skyloftian-nutcase]

After a month of Whump, it’s gonna be Fluff Time!!

Hello! This is Fluffvember, a month long event of pure fluff and comfort! This was originally an idea made by @/kjpurplepineapple, to follow a month of whump (whumptober) with a month of fluff, and I loved it so much I’ve just carried it on for the last two years. :) Figured I’d make some prompts so we could all have fun together.

RULES:

The prompts are listed in a numerical order, but they are not tied to any given day. Do whatever prompt on whatever day you like! If prompt #1 appeals to you but you don’t have time to get it done by November 1, do it any day of the month. :) You are also more than welcome to just stick to the order listed.

Writing/art can be pure unadulterated fluff, calm slice of life moments, easygoing reading… it can even be hurt/comfort! As long as the comfort heavily outweighs the hurt, all warm, fuzzy vibes are welcome. ❤️ The point of this event is to share nice vibes, both to our characters and each other. :)

You don’t have to tag me if you don’t want to, but it would be fun if you tag your writing/art with #fluffvember so I and others who want to indulge in comfort/fuzzy vibes can find it!

Without further ado, here are the prompts! Pick a theme/word prompts or a quote, or both!

Snow // “I’m stealing your blanket”

Blanket fort // “Come back to bed”

Nature walk // “I’m sorry, when did we step in paradise??”

Hot spring // “This hits the spot”

Apple picking // “Oh my gosh, you do not know how to cook”

Windy day // “Come closer, I can’t hear—ahhh too close, too close!”

Massage // “I didn’t know you could sing”

Bird watching // “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Homecoming // “I missed you”

Accommodating // “I’ve got you”

Teaching/learning // “It’s tradition”

Dog/cat/pet // “I can die happy now”

Friendly competition // “You’re going to love this”

In the rain // “Let me help you”

In the firelight/candlelight // “I love you”

Hug // “This isn’t a negotiation, friend”

Favorite book/story // “I wanted to share this with you”

Music // “I learned this from my parents”

Family time // “We’re very blessed”

Coming of age // “I’m so proud of you”

The Reluctant Softie // “UGH FINE I’LL DO IT”

Teddy bear/animal plushie // “Give [insert] a kiss for me”

Self care // “Thank you for believing in me”

Cuddle pile // “You’re not gonna let go, are you?”

Washing someone’s hair // “I can stay with you”

Infodumping // “I love hearing you talk about this”

Gift giving // “This made me think of you”

Inside joke // “I definitely missed something, didn’t I?”

Accidental acquisition // “Uh… whose kid is this?”

Cooking as a love language // “Do you like it?”

[zhongrin]

weathering

◇ characters ◇ husband!zhongli, baby!xiao

◇ tags ◇ afab!reader, fem!pronouns, mention & implication of pregnancy (reader), children, xiao (tries) to call you “mama”, angst to fluff, heartwarming domestic fluff

◇ a/n ◇ last submission for my ᴇʟᴇᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ϟᴜᴘᴇʀᴄʜᴀʀɢᴇ collab

disclaimer: i don’t have a child, and i won't pretend i know how it feels to have one. this won’t be 100% accurate. however - i have first-hand lived with one and witnessed the calmest person on earth snap from all the stress that is caused by child-rearing, so…

𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑏 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

[ 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 ]

you think you and zhongli make for a harmonious couple.

if you were asked to describe your relationship in a word, you would choose ‘steady’. it has always felt as such ever since you were friends, stayed as it is when you started courting each other, throughout your stage of falling in love with each other’s flaws and strengths, and persisted through your engagement and your newlywed stage.

of course, you’ve had fights - from petty ones that make you roll your eyes in exasperation, to bigger ones that made you temporarily move out to your friend’s house for several days to reevaluate your relationship, you had them all. they all ended in the same way, every single time: reconciliation, deep conversations, promises to do better, and tons of affection to make up for the lost time. your relationship is most definitely not perfect, but you’d like to think that it’s healthy and open and, as quoted by your friends, “couple goals”.

but nothing that you’ve experienced so far prepared you for the hectic, sleepless, and insanely stressful life that is being a parent.

and to think you thought pregnancy was the worst. ha ha.

“- he doesn't want to eat, he doesn’t want to see me, he doesn’t want to see you, he doesn’t want his stories, his diaper is clean - i just - i don’t know what to do!”

you had to shout into the phone, seeing as your baby is quite literally screeching his head off in the background, the shrill sound further amplifying your stress headache and breaking your tired heart.

your husband hums in affirmation over the phone, and the background sound of people talking from his side suddenly disappeared. normally, you would have felt bad at interrupting his meetings, especially since you know it’s vital for him to be there, but you’re too far gone at this point - your patience has its limit and it seems like you’ve reached the bottom of the bar.

“calm down, dear.”

“how am i supposed to calm down?! i’ve never seen him throwing this kind of tantrum!! what if - what if something’s wrong - should i go to the doctor? i can’t tell if he has a fever, his whole face is so red and i can’t even touch him because the last time i tried he screamed harder and choked and i was so scared i-”

“[name].”

“i don’t know what to do,” you sob, tears falling down your cheeks, “i can’t do this anymore…”

“of course you can. listen to me, love. everything is going to be okay.”

“will it though?”

“of course. i’m here too. let us tackle this problem together, just like how we always do.”

“….. okay…”

“thank you, dearest. did you try giving him his dragon plushie?”

“he threw it across the living room.”

“hm. strong arms, like his father.”

you sniffle and laugh weakly at his words.

“maybe he missed menogias?”

“their family is on vacation right now,” you wince when xiao throws another one of his soft toys - a limited edition spear gifted by your husband’s friend who runs the biggest toy factory in the whole country - successfully knocking over the untouched bowl of food you made for him before.

another thing to put in the washer, another ruined food, another thing to clean up. wonderful.

“ah, i remember. australia, i believe. i heard it’s magpies season. hopefully they’re staying safe from the birds.”

“who cares about that right no-” you pause.

“….. dear? what’s wrong?” zhongli’s concerned voice snaps your attention back to the phone momentarily.

still keeping your gaze on your son, whose wide golden eyes are also looking straight at you, you whisper into the gadget, as if you’re afraid he’d go back to crying the moment you said something, “he stopped crying.”

“…… xiao?”

the boy blinks and switches his stare at your phone silently, where the voice of his father is addressing him from.

“do you want to talk with daddy?”

his nose scrunches and despite knowing it’s not zhongli’s fault, you snapped at your husband, “no! no he doesn't!!!”

“ah,” another hum, “then, perhaps a keyword… australia? magpie? safe?”

xiao's golden eyes narrow. you whisper a soft ‘no’.

“birds?”

like magic, your son’s expression lights up like a christmas tree. within seconds, he’s waddling towards you, latching onto your leg, teary eyes staring up at you in expectation. you’re sitting still on the dining chair in shock. literally minutes ago he did not want you to touch him at all.

“is that not it?”

“i…. no, i think….,” you hurriedly wiped your tears away and abandoned the phone on the table in favor of hoisting the toddler up to your lap, “birds? you…. you want to see the birds?”

xiao blinks one, twice, and then nods.

you sigh in relief as you wiped the tear tracks on his chubby cheeks. zhongli chuckles.

“will you be alright now, my dear?”

“ah…. yes. i think so.”

“alright. skip the cooking for us tonight, i’ll come back early with your favorites. i love y-”

a small sweaty palm punches your phone’s screen, effectively disconnecting the call. you give the young boy an unimpressed look. he looks back at you innocently before starting to suck on his thumb.

your house resides on one of the higher terrains, along with a great view of the lakes and forests in the distance. this, fortunately, means that you have a lot of trees and birds for your little one’s viewing pleasure. the moment you step out onto the balcony of your second story’s bedroom, xiao starts to bounce excitedly within your arms before settling down, eyes transfixed on the group of avians perched by the nearby trees.

“bub?”

“……,” you exhale shakily, chants the name of the deities above inside your head, and gives him a shaky, weak smile, “yes, love. those are birds.”

[ 𝑔𝑒𝑜 ]

your doorbell chimes right as xiao accepted the first mouthful of his dinner. the toddler glares towards the direction of the front door, as if silently saying ‘who dares to disturb my meal’, and you chortle in amusement.

“coming!”

after giving a few pats on top of his dark-colored hair, you’re immediately running towards the front door in record speed, intent to turn away whatever salesman you have on the front steps by slamming the door on their face if you have to, because your baby needs his food, darn it.

cautiously, you squint through the peephole.

the sight makes you frown in bewilderment.

instead of some slimy-looking salesman, outside stood your husband in his immaculate work clothes, waiting to be let in like some kind of a lost puppy.

did he forget his key, perhaps? you chuckle in amusement. knowing how often he forgets his wallet, it’s only a matter of time until he forgets his keys, you suppose. with that in mind, you unlock the latches and open the door, a greeting at the tip of your tongue-

the sweet scent of flowers envelops your scent and the entirety of your sight, and you find yourself staring down at a massive bouquet of flowers, tastefully arranged, all freshly bloomed with no single imperfection on their colorful petals and trimmed stems.

“…… huh?”

zhongli chuckles, finding the lost expression on your face endearing. your hands might have instinctively accepted the gift, but it appears your brain has yet to catch up with your body.

“i’m home, dear.”

“w-welcome home? but what-”

“can’t a husband spoil his wife without any reason every now and then?”

“yes? no? i mean-” you want to hit yourself for stumbling and bumbling around like some kind of a high schooler in love, and the entertained laugh from your husband makes you smile in both embarrassment and the sudden happiness that enveloped your whole being. despite already being married, the follow-up kiss to your cheek makes your heart jump and your grin widen.

“may i come in now, dearest?”

you eye your husband with a huff and arch your eyebrows coyly, “hmm. persuade me.”

zhongli doesn’t even hesitate or look surprised at your antics, merely sporting the same gentle smile as he places a proper kiss on your lips this time. now you’re actually giggling like a high school girl, and yet your partner isn’t even fazed, soft lips tracing your jawline, fingers brushing back your hair-

a loud clatter makes the both of you jump, and you would have been touched by the instinctive hold zhongli immediately has on your arm, if not for the sight of disaster in your peripherals.

xiao has, somehow, reached onto the plate of food you set aside for him, and while you were both reliving your honeymoon dating phase (not that you've ever grown completely out of it, according to your friends), had taken the liberty to try and shove the food onto his mouth with his own hands…. keyword here being ‘try’.

the bowl of food lays sadly on the floor, its content spilled against the white tiles.

within seconds, your son starts crying, and the two of you scramble to tag team the situation; with you tending to xiao and zhongli tending to the flowers and locking up the door.

right. gone were the long relaxing beach walks and uninterrupted sweet moments.

….. and yet, as you’re cleaning up the food spills around the baby chair and catch the sight of your now-husband silently patting a sleepy little boy whose belly is now full of food, you think that this kind of life too, has its own unique moments of happiness.

[ 𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑚𝑜 ]

“maa…”

you feel a tug on your hair and groan.

“mah….?”

your eyes squint, heavy eyelids struggling to open, something within you forces you to push through it. wake up, your instinct says. your brain lags, and it’s so easy to just fall back asleep, but-

“maaaaaa!!!”

you sit up at record speed, vision bleary yet immediately alerted at the piercingly loud noise and familiar voice of your baby. instinctively, your arms gather the smaller body of the toddler despite the exhaustion weighing your whole being.

“mmah.”

“yes, baby. mama’s he-” tiny hands push your cheek away and you frown, feeling a little hurt by the rejection, “okay, okay… what is it, xiao?”

he wrestles away from your hug and points at the vase of flowers sitting on the dining table. though the blooms aren't as fresh as the first day you got them from your beloved, they’re still a magnificent sight. not to mention that the size of the bouquet made you separate the flowers into three big vases, and this was just one of them. you understand that your child might be fascinated with the new additional decor to the house, but you really doubt he could carry the whole thing by himself… plus, that sounds very dangerous.

“no no. let’s find another thing to play with, okay, dear?”

xiao gives you a look and stubbornly points towards the flowers again, now slightly frowning.

“no.”

“mahm!”

you sigh, rubbing your temples in exasperation before standing up to approach the table. your little boy follows right behind you, all the while observing your movements, waiting for you to fetch what he wants.

hesitantly, you hold onto the vase in your arms. they’re big. heavy. made of glass. what if it shatters? what if he grabs one of the flowers and they weren’t pruned properly? what if he accidentally stabs himself in the eye with one of the stems??

you really shouldn’t….

xiao latches insistently on your leg, doe eyes looking up at you in excitement.

“gihb!”

with a defeated sigh, you place back the vase onto the table, take one small flower, and give it to your child. he whines and points back to the arrangement on the table. you reluctantly give him two more flowers, slightly bigger than the previous one.

“no more.”

he holds them in his hands and stares at them for a while.

you think he’s going to ask for more, so you opt to sit down on the floor, grabbing the nearest storybook and patting your lap in an invitation, “now that you have the flowers, why don’t you hold them while mama reads you your book, hmm?”

to your utmost befuddlement, instead of obeying, your son looks up at you and lifts the flowers up, before staring at you expectantly.

you smile through the confusion and accept his offering anyway, and you were about to thank him when he determinedly kicks the book away and climbs onto your lap-

-to place a kiss onto your cheek.

....

........

oh.

“are you-” you choke on your words, already feeling tears gathering in your eyes, “-sweetheart, were you trying to copy your father…?”

xiao frowns, seemingly unable to comprehend why you’re not reacting as he expected…. and decides to kiss your other cheek. only, this makes you tear up even more. and he does not like that.

“maamh….”

“oh no no nono darling i’m sorry, mommy’s not sad, not at all!”

you carelessly wipe your tears away when xiao’s nose scrunches, the first sign of tears already showing in his bright-colored eyes. gently, you pull him into a hug and squish his chubby cheeks, peppering loving kisses all over his face with a chest full of warmth and unimaginable joy. the toddler squeaks and squirms on your hold, but you continue to coddle him with affection, for the happy giggles bubbling from his throat clearly reflect his true feelings.

later that night, you tell your husband about the endearing moment, and he laughs in amusement before asking the boy if he could get a flower too.

he gets a freshly laundered spear toy thrown at his knees.

you’ve never felt so smug in your life.

[ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 ]

weathering - the breaking down or dissolving of rocks and minerals on earth’s surface. or in some cases: a phenomenon where strong gusts of wind eventually shape the valley of rocks to create a beautiful and wondrous sight.

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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[pikahlua]

Look, it's probably still not time to go really deep into it, but I did mention there are ways this ending where Tomura dies could work for me. Honestly I didn't have much of an issue with chapter 423 itself before the internet's emotional onslaught over it, but now that I'm hearing rumors the chapter was received well in Japan and a number of western fans have decided to couch all their disappointment in racism and rage at the target readership, maybe I should give some cursory thoughts just to counteract the stupid.

The Bittersweet Ending

Here's the thing. For all the game the bird app likes to talk about how MHA is happy and kid-friendly and not dark and that's bad somehow, it's kind of funny to me how little MHA actually meets expectations in that regard. If I were to divide MHA arcs into categories based on their endings, I would probably have to put the majority of them into the "makes me cry" category. Even arcs where the hero wins with ostensibly happy endings often have absolutely gut-wrenching moments, like All Might's retirement in the Kamino arc, Tsuyu's apology in the UA Dorm Contest arc, and Nighteye's death in the Overhaul arc. I don't think it's possible for me to watch the Sports Festival arc and come out of it with anything but mixed feelings of hope and haunting. Stain may have lost his battle, but his effect on society sure seems to give him the win when it comes to the war. The Paranormal Liberation War arc has a pretty rough ending where there may still be a sliver of hope, but goodness is it a small one.

Sure, some of the teariest moments are a result of happy scenes like Eri smiling for the first time at the cultural festival, but what I'm getting at is that MHA tends to go for more hopeful endings rather than happy ones. And those hopeful endings are often stained by some other tragedy, a price to pay for the hope. Just because MHA isn't full of random death doesn't mean it doesn't contain poignant loss. This was one of its early selling points in fact. MHA's most hopeful moments have always felt so real because the story acknowledges that these things should often play out messily. We've seen the mess, and now chapter 424 has given us a glimmer of hope. The question is now where the story will take us from here.

The Anticlimax

This post has come back for me in the most unexpected way, not gonna lie.

I often hear “anticlimax/anticlimactic” used as a negative criticism, especially colloquially. This criticism assumes an anticlimax is always written unintentionally. But that’s often not the case; anticlimax is actually fucking fantastic when placed in the right hands. And Kohei Horikoshi is a goddamn anticlimax connoisseur. I say he’s a connoisseur because Horikoshi has the gall, nay, the gumption–dare I say the balls to showcase the versatility of anticlimax as a storytelling technique for more than just comedy (although he does also use it for comedy a lot). He dares to use it in action scenes, horror/thriller scenes, and even fuzzy heartfelt scenes, all to the great effect of toying with our emotions. And he successfully has us feel exactly what he wants us to every time–because that’s the point. These aren’t cheap jokes; they serve a purpose! They illustrate an actual, meaningful point about whatever scenario they are used in to make the story more realistic, to combat the fridge logic “well actually” complaints endemic to fandom. Because Horikoshi is a fan himself.

When I write "realistic," I don't mean to apply this quote here to indicate that death (especially for edgy aesthetics) is realistic. I mean to indicate that imperfection is realistic. Izuku isn't a perfect hero. Tomura isn't a perfect victim, and by victim I mean "character for the hero to save." Izuku says it himself:

A perfect victim for the hero to save would yield to the hero's attempts to turn and save them. They would see the wisdom in the hero's position and 100% change sides to agree with them. Trite.

Doing this runs the risk of erasing the victim's identity that comes before. Izuku never has a perfect answer to all of Tomura's problems with the world.

Izuku is the same as All Might. He's only human.

[...]Horikoshi has no compunctions using anticlimax in big, important, non-humorous scenes (even if the anticlimax ultimately adds humor to the scene that was otherwise unexpected). This man has no fear. He ends his famously popular take on the tried and true trope of tournament arcs with one big let-down that affects not just the audience but the in-universe characters. [...] You wanna tell me Horikoshi didn’t know exactly what he was doing here? You wanna tell me Horikoshi didn’t know about the fandom war over Katsuki’s hero name? That he didn’t purposefully fucking troll the fandom with this? That this isn’t the single greatest brick joke in the history of published media for its effect both in the canon and in the meta? Fuck you, we’re building up the tension around the most wildly popular character’s hero name reveal for 248 goddamn chapters (that’s five-and-a-half years) just to make it the cringiest fucking thing you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life. His hero name must be the closest audio rendition anyone can imagine shaped like a middle finger and fucking nothing less will suffice. Congratulations, fandom: you played yourselves! You made a war no one could win! Horikoshi could have chosen Ground Zero or Kacchan as Katsuki’s hero name and risked alienating half his fandom either way, but you didn’t realize there was a third option, which of course he took: to risk alienating the entire fucking fandom.

I'm just saying, an ending like this isn't out of character for Horikoshi. In light of this trip down memory lane and Izuku's parallel with All Might in that they acknowledge they cannot save everyone, I'm interested to see what Horikoshi does with this ending whether or not Tomura survives. What sort of hope will he offer?

The extended ending arc

The only real extended ending arc we've had in MHA that might give us a glimpse at the inner workings of Horikoshi's mind is the School Cultural Festival arc. Because of that (and the many other things I've mentioned before this post), I will say there is cause to believe we will have a hopeful ending. Again, I don't know what that looks like. A lot of people seem to have a specific thing they need to have happen to save the story for them, and I cannot speak to those.

Except for Deku vs Kacchan 3, which is what I need to have happen lol. And god does it seem really fucking possible now.

[rocking-space-dragon]

No but I need to emphasize how different everything that happened with Philza was in regards to his "Kidnapping" (I'll explain why I'm putting that in air quotes in a moment) and why I'm still losing my shit about it.

For one, it's the DISTANCE. I've been looking through every other instance of kidnapping - it's almost always at spawn or at the federation building, or if they're thrown in jail it's instantaneous, like a bag thrown over someone's head. Phil's WASN'T. It was a note that directed him 10,000 blocks away, next to a waystone that only he has, telling him not to bring anything. They WANT him alone, isolated and out of the way, but not in the same way as the others; they don't want to deal with him, they just want him GONE.

That brings me to my next point - the notes. Other notes have just been passwords, coordinates, ect - but not for Philza. They wrote an entire story, taunted him, BLAMED him for not being there for his children, then told him to leave everything behind and come to the coordinates. It almost reads more than a ransom note than the usual Federation instructions. Then, when he gets there? It's another one. His own words, TAUNTING him, LAUGHING at him.

And again, we move onto the next point - the BIRDHOUSE. This isn't normal. The Federation doesn't DO this. Everyone else was taken to existing buildings, the underground complex, the prison, but Phil? Not Phil. They built an ENTIRE BIRDHOUSE for him, lured him inside with the promise of his children and left him caged and alone - far from everyone, far from his friends, his home, ANYTHING. This is PERSONAL.

This brings me to my last point - whenever someone else is "Kidnapped" they get kicked - something done to show their character has been knocked out, or taken in some way. Phil, though? He wasn't. He wasn't knocked out, he wasn't frozen, nothing like that.

He's still there.

Alone. Beating against the walls, surrounded by caged birds he can't free, in a cage he can't escape, with no possible way of getting out or getting into contact with people. He's trapped in every sense of the word, and there's nothing he can do but just watch the days tick by as madness sets in - because that's what happens when you trap a bird in a cage.

This isn't the usual Federation way of doing things. This is a demonstration; they're making an EXAMPLE of him, because he rebelled. He attacked their building, he demanded answers, and they showed him that THAT'S NOT HOW THINGS WORK ON QUESADILLA ISLAND.

This isn't a Kidnapping, it's a Punishment - and who knows if Phil is going to be the same if/when they're done?

[hurpdurpburps]

Kozakura and Toriko

SPOILER WARNING: major spoilers up to Vol 8 of the novels, screenshots of the manga-exclusive Kozakura POV Special Chapter 10 and two passing mentions of minor character development in Vol 9 of the novel (currently only in Japanese).

Vol 10 of the English manga was released yesterday, and re-reading the Kozakura POV Special Chapter at the end reminded me why it was actually my favourite of all the ones published so far, and why I am so enamoured with Kozakura as a character.

I know that a lot of the fandom is amused by the idea of Sorawo having a harem (and it's true - Miyazawa straight up confirms Runa's crush in Vol 9 and has regularly insinuated at Kozakura's feelings throughout the volumes), but I think not nearly enough people talk about Kozakura's dynamic with Toriko, or how the story unfolds from her perspective as literally the "only grown-up in the room" before Migiwa's introduction.

So this post is gonna talk about that.

There are multiple times where the story depicts Kozakura favouring Sorawo over Toriko, such as in when she asked Sorawo to accompany her back home because she was scared, or when she decided to call only Sorawo to go over to her house to collect the free hot springs tickets. A lot of people chalk it up to Kozakura liking Sorawo, but if anything I think this behaviour is more of a manifestation of the lack of guilt towards her, compared to the boatload she has towards Toriko.

In the novels, we as readers feel the disgust and dread from Sorawo's POV as someone retroactively discovering that her friend was a victim of grooming.

But what about Kozakura? If you think about the OP character chart from a bird's eye view, she wasn't a victim - nor exactly an innocent bystander. If anything, she'd be an accessory to a predator, being a late-20s/early-30s adult witnessing her similar-aged coworker rope in who was a literal teenager at the time to traversing and exploring a creepy af alternate reality, and doing absolutely fuck all about it.

Miyazawa made a deliberate decision here, to write in no uncertain terms, that Kozakura was conscious of what Satsuki was doing to Toriko, or the impropriety lurking beneath the dynamics of their "tutor-student" relationship. Kozakura saw it coming - his writing leaves no room for other interpretations - and she let it happen.

And how does she cope with this guilt? Kozakura could've avoided Toriko's attempts at reaching out after Satsuki's disappearance. It would've been easy I think, for Kozakura to simply break off all contact. A simple "our mutual friend is gone so bye" would've sufficed to send Toriko packing for good. Toriko is an abysmally shy girl - and unlike Sorawo, Kozakura knew that side of her from the start. Kozakura is clearly not afraid or incapable of conveying her displeasure, but nonetheless makes the conscious, harder decision to make Toriko feel comfortable enough to stick around.

Kozakura unexpectedly grows more accustomed to taking care of Toriko, plus her new sidekick Sorawo, over time. So much so that by the time Vol 6 rolls around, she pretty much gives up her house and lets our dynamic duo do what they want. By extension, I think her guilt over not doing anything to help Toriko in the past was a driving factor behind her decision to take in Kasumi. In a sense, it's a do-over, and now she's right there from the start to make sure the train doesn't derail. I'm happy to reveal that her efforts have paid off - Kasumi's communication abilities have greatly improved in Vol 9. Now the kid says hi, eats ice cream on the couch obediently when ordered to do so, and quotes entire Wikipedia pages psychically or whatever.

The complicated vortex of envy, jealousy and guilt doesn't stop Kozakura from trying to do right by Toriko, but that doesn't mean it's easy to face her either. Coupled with Sorawo's many similarities to her missing crush (emotional erh, robustness, vague physical resemblance, bravery regarding all things Otherside) and the lack of a complicated interpersonal history, it's no wonder why Kozakura intuitively prefers talking to our protagonist than the poor Bird Girl she allowed to be manipulated. And I don't think she's very conscious of this inclination herself.

Personally, I prefer this interpretation of Kozakura's behaviour, rather than the more popular everyone-likes-Sorawo take (not that it's not valid, unsupported, or fun). Also, this is my all-vibes no-evidence theory, but Kozakura totally seems to me like someone who'd only be into older women, not younger...

But that's probably just me projecting. I relate to Kozakura's position quite a bit, as a late-20s woman who leads a team of mostly early-20s younger women fresh out of university, like a naggy mother hen.

Many stories depict difficult situations from the eyes of a victim, survivor, or even perpetrator, but not enough explore the guilt of someone who acknowledges that she could've stopped a bad thing from happening, in my opinion. And she forces herself to atone by proactively keeping an eye for these girls. While maintaining that superior holier-than-thou attitude towards her kids lol. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh I love Miyzawa's takes so much.

This is a 5am, caffeine-fueled ramble. It's not particularly insightful or profound, but I have a lot of energy right now and decided to pen down these surging thoughts.

And yeah - buy the manga! The Kozakura POV shorts add such a rich dimension to these already-deeply introspective novels, and personally I think it really highlights Miyazawa's hyperawareness of complicated, problematic interpersonal dynamics.

PS. I wonder how many volumes we have to reach before finally knowing Kozakura's first name lol.

[aces-and-angels]

verification source | verification source disclaimer: i do not vet/verify gfm campaigns myself. i can only share campaigns that have already been vetted by other individuals. (i.e. el-shab-hussein, nabulsi, 90-ghost, etc.). nesma's campaign has been vetted by sayruq, nabulsi, and el-shab-hussein (proof of verification linked)

for those able, please consider donating to nesma's campaign here:

current stats: $65,702/$80,000

regardless of your ability to donate- please read the following below the cut. thank you🖤

///

hello friends~ i would like to take a moment of your time to highlight the following gfm campaign for @nesmamomen. nesma has recently reached out to me through my inbox asking me to help spread the word about her campaign. here is the beginning of her message (text is also included in image description):

nesma story starts similarly to what i think many of us here can relate to: a 23 year old student gearing up to finish their degree. in nesma's case, her final year studying IT (information technology). for years- she has worked hard to make her family, 12 members in total + the best cat: lucy and the best bird: koko, proud. her home was full of love and joy- precious memories that are near and dear to her heart. however, nesma's joy has turned into unimaginable horror and immense suffering beyond our comprehension.

and it's been that way for almost one year.

at every turn, she has desperately tried to get people to listen to her story. to have the words 'help me' not be enough- to need to constantly validate yourself in order for people to care- only to be silenced is nothing short of deplorable. as nesma mentioned in her message: her account has been repeatedly suppressed. (the first verification link shows her old account)

the rest of her message to me contains some graphic imagery of the current state of her family. multiple members are injured. her father is in desperate need of medical care. her younger siblings sustaining wounds no child should ever have to bear. just reading all of that would make someone want to fall into a pit of despair. i am here to implore you to look beyond that grief and push against those feelings of hopelessness. we have been conditioned to turn away. conditioned to believe that there is nothing that can be done.

nesma's message alone is proof enough that there is hope. you reading her story, as devastating as it is, is enough to know that she and her family still need help. they still need us to be their voice in a time of crisis. because they are still alive. and it is up to the rest of us to make sure they get the chance to truly live.

to quote nesma herself:

"I do not know whether I will survive or die in this war, but know that your help for me will contribute to saving my family from death."

please follow nesma on her social media (@/nesmamomen on tumblr). she also has an instagram linked in her gfm page. please learn nesma's story in her own words- not mine- and read the campaign yourself. linking it again so you don't have to scroll all the way back up:

if you made it to the end: congrats! you've unlocked a secret poll ✨

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 4.3

Oof! Got him!

“She loves you and he loves him and they love each other”. You know when you've got something to say but you don't want it to look like you really wanted to say it specifically so you throw it in between two other things? No? Just me and John?

I'm obsessed with John just heaping praise on Paul in this interview. Every song the interviewer brings up it's “best” “my favorite” “all Paul” “good piece of work” “somewhere I have the tape of him doing it” “damn good” “one of his masterpieces” See also: Paul’s a good lyricist, he just doesn't try because he's insecure. And: one of the most innovative bass players of all time.

John mixing up In My Life and If I Fell “although I don't know why I'm confusing them, they're nothing alike but they have the same–” The same what? Same target? Same muse? Hmm? “It's really about–it's not about Cyn.” He's barely hanging on to not saying it here, like, by a gossamer thread. 

John confessing that the consistent character flaw of Paul's which hurt him ((hurt. Not annoyed. Not angered. Hurt.)) was insensitivity. Not bossiness or lameness or sneakiness. Insensitivity. What John couldn't handle in the end about Paul was that he wasn't aware enough of John's tender feelings. 

He's also so cruel in this interview. And what you've got to pay attention to is the theme connecting the songs he's cruel about: Let It Be (let John go) and The Long and Winding Road (the long and pointless fight). 

The Japanese Monk comparison doesn't quite land for me because it implies that John purposely broke up the Beatles because he knew they were at a peak and he wanted them to stay gold. And I think that's what John would like the story to be. It makes him feel better inside. It makes him look incredibly wise and courageous. But it's clear – John even stated it himself more than once on record – that the breakup was not purposeful or calculated. It was a terrible accident that nobody wanted, least of all John. 

More quotes to live by when examining John's post breakup “ow!”

I find it fascinating that John thought of Paul's and Dylan's lyrics as very similar and says so twice in this documentary. But nobody else ever draws that comparison. In mainstream thought, Bob Dylan is one of the greatest lyricists of all time if not the greatest (it's me. I'm mainstream. Subterranean Homesick Blues my absolute beloved.) and Paul is the worst lyricist to ever get successful. And you know what? I think Paul gets punished for being physically pretty and financially savvy, and I think in the exact same way his music gets punished for being melodically pretty and commercially successful. 

John about Paul's inscrutable messages in his songs: if one knows the person, one knows what's coming down. John in I Know (I Know): and I know. What's coming down. 

I will always love how he says in the same breath . . . “I've compared it to a marriage a million times" and "Paul and I were together.” 

You really do gotta be like “Johns say the darndest things sometimes.” I mean that's what Paul did, right? Because genuinely most of the time he's a fucking sweetheart. After he's sat there defending Paul's insane mourning bus movie, the interviewer asks him to compare himself and Paul. And after saying there's never been a question about commerciality, he says this. 

Nobody think about Paul writing “One of These Days” just before John's death then “This One” a decade later. Don't do it. I do recommend. 

Free as a Bird is such a beautiful song. It's a gorgeous melody, and it's got such complex emotions. He's still mourning something that was lost, but he's hopeful. He's on his way home. 

You all know that long distance interview Paul did right before John died where they bring up some of the awful things John said recently about him (ignoring the millions of loving and admiring things). When Paul's voice cracks and he looks up at the ceiling and struggles for a minute and the lights go out, I have a theory that it's one of their kids being protective. She was messing with the lights before to be silly and then when the bad question comes she turns them off again as a sort of protective sabotage. 

What If though? What If that's true? 

Quote of all time!!! “The person I actually picked as my partner, who I recognized has talent and who I could get on with, was Paul.” He doesn't say ‘as my sidekick’ or ‘running mate’ or ‘captain’s mate’ or ‘second string’ or any of those things that traditional Beatles fans tend to push on them. Partner. 

Serious question, because I swing all over the place as to what I think actually happened between John and Paul physically and emotionally. If we agree that Real Love is about Paul (a baby and another on the way lalalalalala farm . . . Just call him on the phone) Then what about this lyric? “Was I just dreaming (a word of theirs and something they thought they shared) or was it only Yesterday (Paul's biggest song) I used to hold you in my arms? Is that to be taken literally? John used to hold Paul in his arms? i.e. frequent hugging and cuddling?

The heart monitor cuts so harshly into John singing “Grow Old With Me.” As we see beautiful images of John and all the people he's leaving behind. I'm dry heaving. This documentary is so much more painful this time around than the first. 

Anyway I'm glad we got coverage of all the “for Paul” songs. Which. Btw fuck you Sean and Peter. You proved absolutely nothing.

[catboyglover]

quotes that i think are very trobed coded:

“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.” - Richard Siken

“Eventually something you love is going to be taken away. And then you will fall to the floor crying. And then, however much later, it is finally happening to you: you’re falling to the floor crying thinking, “I am falling to the floor crying,” but there’s an element of the ridiculous to it — you knew it would happen and, even worse, while you’re on the floor crying you look at the place where the wall meets the floor and you realize you didn’t paint it very well.” - Richard Siken

“Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” - Richard Siken

“If you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand.” - Richard Siken

“I’ve been rereading your story. I think it’s about me in a way that might not be flattering, but that’s okay. We dream and dream of being seen as we really are and then finally someone looks at us and sees us truly and we fail to measure up. Anyway: story received, story included. You looked at me long enough to see something mysterioso under all the gruff and bluster. Thanks. Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.” - Richard Siken

“You go to work the next day pretending nothing happened.

Your co-workers ask

if everything's okay and you tell them

you're just tired.

And you're trying to smile. And they're trying to smile.” - Richard Siken

“He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand.” - Richard Siken

“When does a war end? When can I say your name and have it mean only your name and not what you left behind?” - Ocean Vuong

“I miss you more than I remember you.” - Ocean Vuong

“Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined.” - Ocean Vuong

“What were you before you met me?”

“I think I was drowning.”

“And what are you now?”

“Water.” - Ocean Vuong

“You love him. The story still ends.

So please, I beg you,

he is all that I have,

and you have so many heroes,

and the world has so many more.

Let him be soft. And let him be mine.” - Pencap

“Yes, yes, yes, I do like you. I am afraid to write the stronger word.” - Virginia Woolf

“I’m always soft for you, that’s the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say ‘come here, it’s been too long, it felt like home with you.’” - Azra T.

“Good news, I love you anyway. All the mess and fuss of you. All the stray hairs and uneven smiles. I love your laugh and your sigh and the way you sing along with the music. It’s all lovable. It feels so good to love you.” - Redinkskinned

“Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.” - Edgar Allan Poe

“There is something wrong with you. There is something wrong with you that is also wrong with me.” - Hera Lindsay Bird

“I’m afraid of a lot of things, but mostly, most sincerely, I am afraid of being completely unraveled by you, and you finding nothing you want in there.” - L M Dorsey

“And I guess I realized at that moment that I really did love her. Because there was nothing to gain, and that didn’t matter.” - from “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” by Stephen Chbosky

“I just want you to know that you’re very special. And the only reason I’m telling you is that I don’t know if anyone else ever has.” - from “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” by Stephen Chbosky

“You are all the colors in one, at full brightness.” - from “All The Bright Places” by Jennifer Niven

“You make me lovely.” - from “All The Bright Places” by Jennifer Niven

“You know what I like about you? You’re interesting. You’re different. And I can talk to you. Don’t let that go to your head.”

“…You know what I like about you? Everything.” - from “All The Bright Places” by Jennifer Niven

“I love you.”

“It’ll pass.” - from “Fleabag” (2016-2019) by Phoebe Waller-Bridge

“I sit here on the couch, waiting.

Waiting for this to pass.

Days go by and I’m still here. Waiting.

You sit there, nothing changes.

I wait with bared teeth.

I wait.

I wait.

I wait.

I wait for you.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s rotten work.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.” - Anne Carson

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” - Jane Austen

[romana-after-dark]

Room's on Fire: Girl on Fire

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Everyone is together, everything is complete.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!!

Extra warnings for chapter: Pregnancy, breeding kink, violent sex, domestic violence on a man, gunshots, references to murder,, death, torture, all the horrors. The end was disturbing even to me, so read with caution. If you find the end was too much, just ask me what happens and I'll tell you. not super plot important but like it was pointed out, the sex is how we see dynamic shifts. Mentions of mpreg fantesy but no mpreg will happen bc they arent actually god, just insane.

3.7k words

A/N: Some pov shifts. Madonna, Jonah, Rey, Santi all get POV's.

A.N2: context for song quote, Alicia wrote girl on fire after the birth of her son.

Support writers! Reblog and leave comments!

"She's on top of the world Hottest of the hottest girls say Oh, we got our feet on the ground And we're burning it down Oh, got our head in the clouds And we're not coming down This girl is on fire" ~ Girl On Fire, Alicia Keys

“It’s okay, you’re gonna do great.” Rey assured her, sitting on a table in the dressing room despite a chair being right there. His lanky legs liked to dangle, you noticed, or sometimes perch up in high places. He reminded you of a bird sometimes, lithe and graceful and seemed to float on his feet.

“What if they don’t like me? What if something happens? What if there’s another uprising or someone wants revenge on me because of my dad-”

“The people love you, and they were going to love you even more with this announcement. Jonah’s not going to let anything happen to you, you know that.”

Your face grows warm at the mention of Jonah. He had acted distant with you since the instance of Frankie and you on the horse, and wouldn’t let you see his face when he showed up the next morning with bruises. In fact, you’d hardly seen him at all. Rey was your primary guard, and Will had talked about moving your room to one with an attached room for Reyansh so that he could stay with you at all times. It seemed everyone knew Iris and Rey were an item, or at least they understood Reyansh was not a threat. You had begged Will not to switch around rooms. The reason given was that you liked your room, but really, you were hoping that you’d be moved into a room with one of your husbands. You weren’t visited by the incubus the night they all slept in your room.

Still, Jonah looked out for you. Under your dress right now was his bulletproof vest. 

A knock on the door.

“Come in.” Iris called to the door, still working on your hair.

Will entered the room. “Are you ready, Madonna?”

Before you opened your mouth, Iris replied. “You could use her real name, you know.”

Will didn’t look at her, keeping his eyes on you. “Her name is irrelevant, her position is everything.” When he turns and sees Reyansh, Will frowns. “What are you doing in here?”

Iris was quick to answer his unvoiced question. “He only came in after she was dressed.”

He instructs Reyansh to ready the carriage. Once he was out, Will turned to you with a smile. “You look stunning, Madonna.” Your heart swells with love for your handsome husband, dressed in his loose white shirt. In your hair, small white flowers adored you, carefully placed and worked in by Iris’s hands. She was incredible, making your dress too. It was colorful, with a color representing all four of your husbands. Under it, a bulletproof vest. No one in delta outside of guardsmen was allowed guns, but he wanted to be safe.

“Wow…” Will whispers, taking you in. There was just the slightest swell of a bump, you wondered if it was just weight gained from eating more these few months. Will took you into his arms kissing you deeply and feeling your stomach. Iris mumbles close enough as you’re pulled away. He turns back to her only a moment. “Make sure everything is ready when we’re back, please.”

Iris sighs, “It always is, Mr. Miller.”

*

Jonah cocked his gun. “Same as last time, honey. Anything happens, you come with me. Those guys can handle themself. I get hurt, do not stop for me. Just run. Someone will come find you, you just keep yourself alive, got it?” His brown eyes were on you for the first time in a long time, and you relaxed. Jonah’s eyes always calm you. It’s scary, knowing you were responsible for not just you, but someone else as well. The priestess stood at the balcony to the side, your husbands flanking you. Pope to your right, Francisco to your left, Ben to his left and Will to Popes right. Just as you were married.

“Men! Women! Children of Delta!” She shouts to the crown. “I present your Gods and your Madonna!” The crowd erupts into screams, and your heart fills with love for your people. “And!” A hush falls over the ground, waiting breaths quiet as they wait for the news. “I present to you, THE SAVIOR!”

The sound was deafening, a noise that shocked you and made you stumble back. To your surprise, Pope was behind you. It was a greater surprise when he rucked up your skirt.

Immediately your hands, out of instinct, go to bring the material down but his fingers quickly dig into your skin, warning you to behave. So, you stand there, humiliated, left hand gripping Francisco’s tighter. Pope loved you, he loved you and he’d never do something just to humiliate you! How stupid of you for feeling that way. This child was long prayed for, they and your body belonged to your husbands, belonged to Delta. Pope lifted your dress over the small bump,exposing your underwear to the crown. No one outside of your husband, a few house motherns and prefects had seen you in your underwear, so this was difficult…

But then Pope kissed your neck, and the worries melted away. Will, Francisco and Ben come to you, each placing a hand on your stomach as the priestess shouts, reaffirming that the savior’s parentage was of all four, that each of your husbands fathered this baby. You were called the vessel for their seed.

Then, you were placed on a tour. On a sitting carriage with all 4 of your husbands, you were paraded around to cheering people, the faces of women from your dormitory and even your room recognizable in the crowds. One woman whose bed was next to yours shot you a deadly glare as you passed by. She was mean, frequently detailing her escapades with Ben and throwing your own lack of attention in your face, but who was laughing now? Ben choose her for a short term fuck. You had a greater purpose.

When you reached the mansion again, the gates were crowded with people reaching out for you, and although there was fear as the mass of the crowd grew, there was also power. The savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned lay in your holy womb, you were the bringer of life. YOU were the divine mother.

The gunshot brought you back to reality.

*

“WILL!” You scream as your husband is shot backwards, stumbling into his brother’s arms who he shoved out of the way of the bullet. Jonah didn’t care about Will, however. He didn’t care about Ben falling at him brothers side under the weight. He didn’t even care about Francisco scrambling to grab at Ben in the chaos, and he certainly didn’t care about Santiago dragging Frankie away.

He cared about, sobbing in his arms desperately trying to get to your fallen love. Jonah wrapped an arm around you and pulled you away into the riotous, scampering crowd. You needed to get away from the shooter. 

“NO!” You bawl loudly. Howling that he’s dying, that you need to be with him, but Jonah didn’t give a shit about that prick. He calls to Reyansh, who jumped out of the carriage the second the gun goes off. It was intentional, having Rey at the helm with him; only Rey would care enough about you out of all the guardsmen that Jonah could depend on him. Into the madness, you wouldn’t stop screaming and that rainbow dress of yours was not helping the situation. 

“Rey! The tunic!” Jonah had to spin you around to disorient you enough to make you stop fighting in your hysteria, forcing your arms up while Rey slid a long, brown standard tunic over your body, making you blend into the neutral tones on the crown. Jonah clamped down over your mouth and pulled you away as the center of the shooting grew further away, Reynash covering you both. Once at the posting for a guard, Rey held you as Jonah mounted the steed and pulled you up, riding off with you.

*

You hadn't stopped sobbing for hours. Reyansh watched in concern, wanted so badly to comfort you lest the heaving and thrashing harm the baby or yourself. Rey loved children, he couldn’t wait for a day he could take Iris away and raise a family together, to finally be with her intimately and live a life with her. 

Even if children weren’t in the picture (Iris wanted one in theory, but was hesitant to bring one into this world, understandably.) he’d cherish a life growing old with his lover. Maybe they’d some orphaned child; Iris had a soft spot for children in need. Her maternal instincts are why, despite not wanting to be friends or even really know her, Iris took care of the girl. Iris had ten years on the naive child. Continuously, she had warned him about keeping his distance, not raising suspicion that anything was happening between him and the girl, but it wasn’t his fault she was damn delightful. However, despite her obvious beauty, talents and sweet demeanor, nothing compared to Iris.

Reyansh could wax poetry about her all day long, and often did. He barely had any free time, most of the pockets of time he had, Rey liked to help Iris with her Herculean tasks, the laundry and dishes like Sisyphus and the boulder. He couldn’t take away the fact the next day would be filled with more dishes, more wall washing, more cooking, but he’d gladly sacrifice an hour of sleep so she could gain one. With him at all times, however, was his notebook and pen. As he sat at a mount or perch Rey liked to try his hand at poetry and writing. 

Sometimes it was about the beauty of nature, the flowers he planted and gardens he kept, how they gave him joy during difficult times. Sometimes it was about the complex nature of family, of Iris and Jonah, Santiago and what he knew of Beatriz, which wasn’t much, the strained love and hatred between Will and Ben, or his own desire for fatherhood. Sometimes he wrote about the 5 lovers, the girl, the men who claimed to be gods, how each individual relationship strengthened them and weakened them in their own ways and how the girl changed things for better or for worse. Mostly, he just wrote about Iris, the prettiest flower he had.

He caught a glimpse of Jonah at the window, motioning him to come out. This safe house was his idea. Apparently, he and Marcus used to escape here sometimes.

Rey tries to tell you he’s stepping outside but you aren’t listening, curled up in a ball on the bed sobbing. He makes his exit.

Once outside, Jonah offers him a sip from his flask but Rey declines.

“I was going to ask how she is, but I can hear my answer.” The sound of you wailing penetrates the walls.

“How Will?”

“He’ll live, unfortunately.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” Jonah sighs, lighting a cigarette. “Wish those fuckers would just die.”

There was a long pause, Reyansh thinking hard before saying what he was thinking. He didn’t defy or talk back to Jonah, he respected him as his superior and, for all intents and purposes, his father in law. But Jonah was flawed. “You’re the one with a gun, Jonah”

Jonah inhaled a long drag before answering in a puff of smoke. “We’ve been over this.” He walked into the safe house.

They had talked, several times. Rey wanted Iris out but he didn’t have much power and knowledge. Jonah had the gun and a hundred reasons not to. There was no way to kill all 4 because everyone was armed. The community would riot. There was no where safe to go. A failed attempted would end Iris’s life. All these may be true, Jonah did have 4 decades of guard experience… but really, Rey thought he was just a coward, and maybe he cared for Pope and/or Francisco more than he’d like to admit. He’d been with those two since infancy, helped raise them, been a father figure most of their lives… it was understandable.

When he walked into the house, it was to crying but this time, relieved. He must have told her Will would be okay. You had your arms wrapped around his neck and he held you close to him, rubbing your back.

“It’s gonna be okay, honey, everyone’s gonna be just fine.”

*

Ben was changing Will’s bandages when you walked in and it made you nauseous to see the blood. Jonah said the bullet went straight through, that he’d be okay he just needed to rest, but the sight was disturbing.

Will groans. “Baby, don’t want you seeing me like this.”

Benny flicks his brothers arm. “Let her be, she was worried about you.”

The older Miller grumbled, but allowed you to kneel his side. He thumbed away a tear, “Don’t cry for me, beautiful girl.”

“What happened?” You sniffle, looking between Benny and Will.

“A girl from the dorms, she took the gun off a guard and tried to shoot-”

Ben interrupted. “You, Madonna.” He looked to his brother. “Melody, your old roommate, she tried to shoot you out of jealousy, she wanted to be with me. Will pushed you aside, took the bullet.”

You blink at that. Melondy wanted to shoot you? She wanted you dead? And Will. was he even standing by you? “But… I don’t remember being pushed.”

“Oh sweet girl…” Will cood. “Do you not remember? Poor thing, it was probably so traumatic-”

“No, I remember-”

“Your brain probably blocked a lot of it out, repressed it to protect you.”

Yeah, yeah that made sense. Memory was fragile. Will winced and Ben finished cleaning him and you took his hand as a new packing kit was applied. “Thank you for saving me…” You kiss his hand, feeling the rough knuckles warm skin. “For saving our baby…”

You fell asleep beside him that night, laying on his chest. He was warm, firm, inviting and protective. Nothing mattered more than the fact your husbands and your baby were safe.

Melody was dead. After the first shot missed, she approached where the four men had gathered intent on finding you, but Ben said Pope shot her square in the forehead, that he protected you while Jonah and Reyansh took you to safety. Ben said he had stood in front of his brothers and you, fearless, brave and bold. Pope loved his people, but he loved you most of all.

When you awoke, it was lae evening and although you wanted to go back to sleep, after some tossing and turning you realized you could. Not wanting to wake Will, you check his pulse and breathing, both strong and head out of the room to see if anyone is up. You know they dont like you wandering around the mansion without protection but you weren’t a child.

After Jonah and Rey had taken you back home, you were desperate to see William, but Pope demanded your presence with Francisco, both holding you tightly and checking you over again and again, tell you how precious you were, how loved. Pope knelt in front of you, hands on your belly, kissing it. You were thankful to have such loving and protective husbands. Despite the horrors of today, you felt blessed beyond measure 

You came to the kitchen first seeing a light on. Sometimes Benny liked late night snacks. Instead, you see Iris and Reyansh slow dancing in the kitchen. Iris was actually smiling. No doubt Rey was fearful of his own women’s safety being forced in the cabin with you for so long after a riot broke out right outside where she was. Silent, you step away from the cute lovers and allow them their time. Rey helped save your life today, you needed to thank him, and thank Iris for all she did for your family, you were lucky to have them both.

You try to see if Pope is awake next. When you approach his room, the grunting sounds make you stop, peaking through the slightly cracked door. Pope was on top of Francisco, fucking into his ass with his legs bent up into a press. It was a position he used on you many a time. Francisco was a puddle beneath him, his curls stuck to the sweat on his head. He looked incredible. The way Pope kissed him so deep… You couldn’t help feeling warm inside. How lucky you were that your husbands loved each other so much.

Ben was found in the gym. For a moment, you merely watch him. Shirtless in his red shorts and throwing punches at a punching bag. He probably had so much energy in him after everything today, watching his brother bleeding in his arms. She knew they didn’t always get along, Ben holding anger for Will so often and over what, you couldn’t yet discern. Maybe this tragedy would bring them back together. You admire his body, carved out and chiseled in perfect form. 

You loved the bodies of all your husbands, in each and every different.

Will was largess; tall, muscular, wide everywhere. Everywhere. His body consumed you just as yours consumed him; he was like a shield, metaphorically and now literally.

Santiago was softer. A small belly that was only noticeable when he was bent over, plush though and a moon shaped ass. He was all curves, from his nose down to his calved you had massaged so ardently.

If Pope was soft, Francisco was a pillow. Heavy weight surrounded him, the broad expanse of his shoulders to the fat at his waist and you just wanted to bury your face into it, you want to bite, nibble, and worship the pudge that spilled over his pants.

Ben was lean, the tallest of them and slim hips under rippling muscles. Golden God, beholden before you and it was as if his glory radiated off him. Despite the strength he was light on his feat. He could have been a boxer in another life.

“How are you feeling?” His deep voice breaks the tranfiction of the way his body moved, stilling the punching bag.

“I’m good, just woke from a nap with Will.”

Still looking away, Ben nodded. His mood matched the storm clouds out the window. After wiping his face, Benny chugged water and then finally made his way over to you in long, quick strides. His eyes flashed with the lightning outside.

*

Pope fucked Frankie with a fury he couldn’t recall in years. Frankie had defined him, ignoring his orders to leave but no, he wanted to stay with Ben. 

“You don’t think I wanted Ben and Will safe too?” He growled in his lovers ear. 

“I know!”

“You’re more important!”

He almost lost Will, Ben, the savior, and most importantly Frankie today. The girl would pay, fuck she’d pay. He couldn’t do anything Madonna might see, she thinks she’s dead already… no, a gunshot was to quick for someone trying to harm his family, but he’d make her suffer.

His anger toward Francisco wouldn't be helped when today, when he went to make love to Frankie, he found him in Ben's arms, cumming on his hand.

*

Ben had you pinned against the wall, fucking into you with your legs hitched around his narrow hips. The wind outside picked up speed, displaying his anger, his frustration, his love and his lust. You let him take you, fucking into your pregnant womb with his face tucked in your neck. You felt as if you were floating, like you were the center of the world right now. The sun God orbited you. Someone had tried to take you from him, a women he used to claim as his own but she had been cast aside for a reason. In her jealousy, she though she could regain her place at his side but that was foolish. Ben would never have loved her the way he loved you, the way he loved his husbands. Will, Francisco and Pope could never love her. 

She was not the Madonna.

She could never carry the savior.

She could only ever have a bastard.

*

“Gonna fill you up, Frank.” Pope grunted, breath hot against Francisco's cheek, mouth to mouth, lips to lips. “Gonna fill up this tight little hole of yours until you’re pregnant with my baby, you got that?”

Frank’s eyes went wide. “Santi, wha-” But he stopped when Santiago slapped him. This shocked Frankie, Santi didn’t slap him, he didn’t hurt him like that…

“Take it!” Santiago screams, tears of anger blurring his eyes. He chose Ben over him. He’d rather stay in danger with Ben than safety with him. “Your mine, under stand?!” When Frankie didn’t answer right away, Pope gripped his jaw and felt a warm tear fall down his cheek. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”

*

Long fingers gripping your asscheeks, digging into the sensitive skin.

Firm abs rubbing against your body.

Hips stimulating your clit.

A finger fucking into your asshole. 

Everything was better than your wildest dreams. No incubus, a child on the way, friends and family. This was a life your father tried to take from you, but you were like gold that’s tested in fire.

Ben came inside when the thunder cracked, lightning still flashing and illuminating him with light. He muttered Francisco’s name.

*

“YES!” Francisco shouted in pain, face grimacing. “I’m yours! I’m yours Santi, fill me up! Make me-” He swallowed, tears forming at his long lashes. He gritted his teeth. “Make me p-pregnant!”  Francisco was saying anything that'd make Santi stuff, just to make him cum and end this. He just wanted it over. All of it. He didn't understand why he wasn't allow to be happy, to feel safe, to have peace. Instead he had to submit to Santi's whims just like Beatriz.

Santiago tucked his face into his lovedrsneck, biting him as he came inside. Whimpering, tears streaming wildly down his face, Santiago bit into Frankie’s tender flesh: neck, then shoulder, till finally he just continuously bit into the skin on his large arm, drawing the blood and bruising the skin. It hurt like hell, Frankie's head thrashing back and forth on the pillow trying to take the pain and bare it. Santiago's tears mixed with blood as he finished cumming, thrusts slowing into a lul.

Francisco didn’t know where his body ended and Santi’s began.

He wanted Ben, to be held and protected by him. To be touched gently, with love. To be not possessed but show off so that he knew Ben was proud of him, proud of what they had, not what the fuck Santigo was doing to him. He wanted Madonna with her sweet kisses and open adoration. He wanted Will with his healing nature, tender hands on his arching, bleeding arm. He wanted anything but Santi’s touch right now.

Santiago curled behind Francisco. His hand rested on Frankie’s stomach.

***********

This disturbed me writing the end asdfghjkl

Madonna crying Reminds me of tww bonus chapter where little one thinks joel is dead and is just ugly sobbing

Madonna has... a lot to process today, and absolutly no therapy and no one she can be honest with about what she's witnessing.

I hope you all enjoyed... or .... something....???

Thoughts on Santis episode, Benny having a fit because he wanted Frankie but had to take madonna, will being shot, madonna is pregant, rey's thoughts!!!!! Jonah protecting madonna, etc.

UUUHHHHH poll?

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could you write a enoch o’connor x reader or enoch x olive fluff? movie ver 🙏

Strange Trails

Pairing: Enoch O’Connor x fem!Portman!reader.

Warnings: Not beta read. Use of Y/n. Movie adaptation. No scenes with Enoch (he comes along in the next chapter).

Summary: Your Jacob’s sister and have come along with him to uncover Abe’s tales and held secrets, though you didn’t expect that the cute boy from your favourite childhood stories would become the source of your affections — and you definitely didn’t think that boy would begin to quote the music album you’d discreetly slipped him.

Format: Series — Part One.

Word count: 6.3k

request guidelines | Following Strange Trails

The death of Abe hit you in a different manner than it hit anyone else. The grief held off for the few weeks it took to arrange his funeral and wake, only a pit in the bottom section of your stomach that flared whenever you caught a glimpse of his smiling picture.

Jacob had reserved himself from you for the second time in your lives — the first being when he stopped trusting in the law that was grandpa Abe’s tales and you continued to live on in the weary dreamworld of childhood that it was for years to come. You’d repaired your relationship years ago, into something not quite the same but just as close, even this closeness didn’t stop the fragments of past hurt and fresh grief from seeping through the cracks.

Abe and Jacob were always close. A bond between boys that bound them into a more understanding relationship, a more loving one, and you couldn’t imagine what hell your brother bore with him after having found the eyeless corpse of someone so dear. Except you and Abe were close too, and it was hard for you too, yet you refused to fall into the pits that were holding him hostage.

You invested all your time into the planning of his burial, the built-up summer homework and ignoring the breakdown Jacob was suffering. You disregarded your sorrow and felt the disrespect curl at your gut when your father, Abe’s son, acted like Abe’s death was nothing more than an inconvenience to his mundane, dead-end life of watching birds. You looked down your nose whenever your brother chose you as his target for lashing words and cutting accusations of not caring, when all you felt like you were doing was caring so much.

You festered in the thick, murky depths of woe, mourning in the ringing silence of it and going through the motions of life with a certain robotic unfeeling.

You kept it up for a good while, all polite smiles and brief embraces for anyone with an ounce of sympathy to spare; then the funeral happened. Abe’s picture sat on a large splintered easel, an easel you’d picked out knowing he’d have picked that very one for all its rough edges should he have had the choice, and he’s smiling that crooked smile you only ever saw once in a blue moon.

Beside that, Abe’s sleek coffin is entrapped in bars ready to lower him into the higher floor level of Earth's layers and it’s then, when the casket is left all them feet down and the first shovel of dirt is flicked over it, that your resolve shatters.

Your chest pangs with an oddened palpation filled with anguish and loss and it travels quickly through to your stomach and churns it more viciously than anything before. Your throat lumps and clenches, the sadness awaiting to manifest into loud, uncontrollable sobs that would no doubt rack through your entire body; you try to swallow it down, try to save yourself and your family some dignity, gulping harshly. You fail.

The cry fields across the graveyard with piercing suddenness. You're the first to cry, or at least the first to let it be known, even Jacob stood beside you stays stoic — blank-faced and numb. He glances at you, the infamous trademark blues that only a handful of Portman’s carried flickering with their first kind emotion he’d had for you in weeks, all sympathetic and soft-centred.

You and Jacob were close growing up, you were each other's first friends, the first person the two of you would choose to share toys or snacks with, you’d shared a room for a while and you’d shared a womb once upon a time too; so even in the times you weren’t friends, Jacob would always be the first to remember that once you sobbed for the first time, it was end game. He wasn’t just some friend, he was your brother first, always.

His arm draped over your shoulder, pulling you into his side and letting you bury your face into the black of his suit despite knowing it’d stain with makeup. He stares forward with his eyes welling and you hear as he swallows thickly but the tears don’t fall. You continue to choke through your grief. And the two of you ignore the condescending pity the rest of your stoic-faced disconnected family convey at the emotional display.

“It hurts.” You gasp out silently, hand resting above the placement of your heart. “It hurts. I’m sorry, Jake. I’m so sorry that you- that we- he shouldn’t have- not like this. Never like this.”

“You don’t have to apologise to me, Y/n.” He whispers. “We both lost him. You lost him, too.” This is the sanest you’ve seen your brother since the accident, the sanest you’ve felt since, and you have a brief moment of hope that flushes through your grief and visualises into a happier future. A future where Abe Portman didn’t die from a brutal attack, where Jacob Portman didn’t close off when you most needed him not to, where you didn’t have to take on so much responsibility all the time.

But that is a future that can no longer have a chance to exist.

Abe Portman is gone. Jacob Portman closes off to cope. You were always going to be forced to pick up the slack.

That’s the natural order now. Not much change, you could deal with it. You had too. You always picked up the slack, Jacob always closed off; Abe wasn’t always dead.

When you and Jacob parted at the funeral the last of the comfort parted with it, clinging to your heart with a suchness that it almost ached. You’d tried to weasel your way into his time, hoping for even a semblance of connection and understanding that you knew only he could offer but Jacob’s grief was a wild, springy, spiral that sparked with a drive of madness and a hunger for answers. Yours better resembled a hazy daydream that clouded your reality and took away your normal sensitivity to life and its breathing tendrils, yours doesn’t spark alight so much as it sparks out.

You have no such madness. No such drive.

You’d prefer your brother's version, alive and reminiscent rather than your dead and grey but your brother’s had caught up to him, so at the very least you were left be for your drabness. Reminiscence for Jacob meant retelling and seemingly harbouring a certain belief into the tales Abe loved to tell you as children, and as much as you sympathised with him for the therapy he was forced into, you would do just about anything to recall the faces and the names and the peculiarities and the stories of the children at the orphanage like Jake seemed too. You would do anything to have your grandpa back like that.

Your parents worried too much about Jacob’s state of mind to really pay attention to your withdrawn one which really felt like both a blessing and a curse all at once. On one hand, you wanted some doting and comfort, you wanted some companionship in a world that suddenly seemed so big and lonely. On the other, you had much more free reign to garner a way to cope and much more time to laze and mope and actually use your newest coping mechanism. Music.

There was so much to music that it felt like a never ending learning curve that you could obsess and consume without ever running out of materiel. Your family were more well off than most and so you could afford the luxury of getting the things your mechanism beckoned for; the guitars, the keyboards, the vinyls, the Walkman tapes, the drums, the speakers — you had a growing collection that slowly began to overtake the span of your room in a comforting display.

You’d had some of it before Abe’s passing, gifted to you by him to sate his own love for music and share it with someone he knew could appreciate it. A modernised vinyl player had been assigned a seat on the surface of one of your chest of drawers long before with a box filled with records on the floor beside it and an electric guitar had hung on your wall since you were only twelve.

Your grandpa had been the one to teach you how to strum the strings and play the chords and he’d done so while learning alongside you; those were easier times filled with peals of laughter and burts of wisdom whose memories left a melancholic river of longing streaming through your blood and down your face. Still, you played and you listened and at first you had to force yourself to enjoy something so associated with him but eventually it became your solace. Eventually, it was everything you needed.

Eventually, the memories stopped clouding your heart and your eyes and music was something that kept Abe’s memory alive and unhindered by your grief. It was his, and it was yours, and you carried it everywhere you went.

••

Having to go through the house of a lost loved one was an experience you wouldn’t wish on anyone. To see the home where he had lived look so lifeless and unlived in was just another drive home of his loss — your loss.

It didn’t stir your heart and churn your stomach like his burial had, you didn’t give throaty cries and cling desperately to your brother like you wanted too. This fostered a sting, a finality and a reminder. Abe is gone and he’s not coming back.

Your grandpa was a hoarder. He didn’t collect in a way that gathered in the entrance of each room and was left to cake itself in layers of moulding gunk but every spare nook garnered papers and maps and trinkets that to an outsider seems pointless. That to your dad, seemed pointless.

You and Jacob fought restlessly for the possession of any items your father picked up, one thing that meant nothing to Jacob meant something to you and vice versa, but Franklin had no attachment to any of it and most of your fight was lost simply because of that. You knew most of the things you wanted to keep didn’t actually have any vital virtue but they were all things you knew Abe treasured and in extension, you did too.

There were black bags lying all around you, filled and fastened and ready to go into the skip. Your throat did that funny clench and clamp you’d become accustomed to whenever you thought about throwing them away, thought about how his entire life was bagged and going to be discarded like it was all nothing. Like his life meant nothing.

You had to keep reminding yourself that your grandfather wasn’t the things he kept, that throwing them away wasn’t tarnishing his memory, that parting with them wasn’t parting with him. Abe didn’t live on through the hoarding of his past keepings, he lived on through you, through Jacob, and through anyone else that remembered him.

The only thing that Franklin had no argument for was the pictures that had either you or your twin in them and the stashed money kept in the oddest of places. It was to your guys’ uncommon luck that you caught a glimpse of the familiar sleek dark leather that belonged to a box your childhood yearned to have back, after your father had left the room. You’d opened it with a tense jaw and a cautious glance over your shoulder, knowing if you were seen with it it would be snatched from your grasp without a gallon of sympathy.

The monochrome pictures inside were just as you remembered, aged and weathered and fading, they were of a proud woman and orphaned children doing absolutely impossible things that as a child had left you wondered. A woman with a pipe silhouetted before a tall window and angled so you couldn’t decipher a face to recognise; a boy no older than yourself now holding a young girl you briefly remembered to be his sister, with only one arm — the most baffling thing about that photo however, was that the girl held a ragged rotound boulder overhead with a dainty hand and both smiled at the camera like it was the easiest thing they could ever think to do.

A boy clad in shin length shorts and a striped shirt and a thin jacket and bees, hives of them making home up the left of his torso and trailing along the left of his face, he was perfectly calm — stoic even and looked into the camera seemingly fed up. There was one of a seemingly unremarkable boy, dressed in the sophistication of an ironed suit and the curl of a derby hat, one hand rest in a pocket and the other hung loose by his side and he smiled faintly with his head held high; the visual oddity of him was the circular metal of a projector slotted over the crevice of his eye that, when you looked close enough, had small dials that allowed a ‘zoom in, zoom out’ factor. You remember thinking as a child that he didn’t look peculiar at all and more like a character on the fast track to becoming some sort of evil genius with tech gadgets; Abe had had to explain to you time and time again that looks could be deceiving. That sometimes the most unpeculiar looking people were the most.

The next photo you picked up was another boy in a suit, this one was less pristine with a knitted vest warming atop his shirt and an open overcoat, he sat laxly back against the wood of an armed chair with his feet resting on the kicked up balls of his dress shoes; a tweed cap, pointed forward to face the mirror reflecting the front of him, hovered metres above his collar. His invisibility had made him one of your favourite children to hear of when you were younger, the tales Abe had of him going nude to frighten the other peculiars and the locals would have you in stitches for hours; the memory made you huff a melancholic breath.

You shuffled the pictures around, moving to pick up the next one before hearing the light pound of footsteps creaking along the floor. In a panic, you dropped the ones you held back into the box and latched it back closed with haste, shoving it into the opening of your backpack. The bag lay crumpled by your feet as you spun around, schooling your posture to a strait-laced force formation and feigning innocence through wide eyes.

Jacob stood before you, looking between yourself and your bag with a half smirk. “Found something good?” He whispered, nodding down at it curiously. You tensed, following his gaze, you stared in silence.

You knew you could tell him safely, Jacob wouldn’t tell your dad about anything you chose to keep, but these photos were different. These photos would cause a boundless battle between the two of you that would end with more lost love and ceaseless hostility than you could ever handle.

For a moment you looked at him; he’d want these so wholly if he saw them, maybe perhaps he’d treasure them more than you would, but you’d never been selfish, you never kept something for yourself, and this was something you don’t think you could give up.

Shrugging through your answer, you speak lowly, “Photos. Nothing too great, just thought that dad might start to think we’d gathered enough of ‘em.” Your brother seemed satiated by your answer, turning on his heel and hunching over another bland moving box with a hum, but that didn’t stop the twanging guilt from cramping its claws around your heart and throat. It didn’t stop the way your mouth stuttered open to spill the honesty behind the first lie you’d ever told him.

“Hey, Jacob?” You call, truth dancing its delicate waltz along the tip of your tongue, readying to spin its way out, but your mind flashes with all the consequences that could come hand in hand. He could run with it, drive himself madder quicker than he already was after you inevitably lose the fight for possession, or he could do something drastic — suggested by his therapist — like burn them for closure. Neither were worth the trouble you foresaw.

When Jacob called back in affirmative you scrambled for something else to say, routing through all the conversations you’d wanted to start with him since Abe. “He loved us, you know? Loved you.” It was a stretch because you knew he was more than aware that your grandfather had loved him, loved the both of you more than anything, some lousy and futile attempt at consolation that you’d thought up when you hadn’t had the time to truly feel it for yourself, but you’d have to roll with it now.

“I know.” He turned back to look at you, an eyebrow climbing high on his forehead as if to say it was obvious.

You blanked, a bubble of panic hazing your thoughts. There wasn’t anywhere you could really take this conversation, Abe had loved you, and that was that; you loved Jacob though, and the two of you hadn’t really said that since before you’d turned double digits, now seemed the perfect time to remind him.

“I love you.” Jake’s face contorted, looking at you with affronted confidence, you figured he’d found it frivolous that you’d spoken it because the two of you had sworn up and down as children that the other would always come first — no matter the situation. Neither of you ever broke promises. “I- I just mean that I- we haven’t said it in a long time and… I just thought now would be a good time to remind you. In case you forgot.”

“Forgot?” He asked. “I’d have to get hit in the head to forget, idiot.”

You smiled, “You sure? You were clearly dropped on your head loads as a baby, probably built up a resistance.”

Your brother scoffed, looking to the side into an open box and taking pick of a small plush before lobbing it at your head with a smirk. You dove to the side with a squeak, stepping over your bag with twisted steps and landed halfway down the wall with your hands curling into the plaster. Jacob guffawed, wheezing out breaths as he bent at the knee, open palms hitting his thighs in exasperation.

“Ass.” You snicker, separating yourself from the wall. The plush he’d thrown at you landed by your feet, having hit the wall when you did; it was a fluffy blue thing, discoloured with age and matted by years of use, the stuffing was worn down, it’s arms and stomach more deflated than full and one eye had undoubtedly been stitched messily back in.

There was a darkened stain by its nose, blood red and grossly crisping the curls by its snout. You faintly remember the moment that caused it, a small nosebleed you’d bled after a failed game of pirates that ended with Abe tucking you and your brother into bed, the bear nestled between you. It was well loved and another thing you and Jake had shared. Your throat clogged.

He watched as you bent down, wrapped your fingers around the strap of your bag and the teddy before straightening again with a grin. “Look,” Your thumb and index fingers imbed into either side of the bear's head, wiggling its face at Jacob’s. “It’s Bobby Bear!”

He rolled his eyes, feigning an itch on his nose to smother a smile behind a hand and turned back around to the boxes. You sat Bobby on top of the photo box in the backpack, adjusting him to look more comfortable before zipping it closed; the forming fondness zipped in there with it, ready to be reopened when you were back in the relief of your room.

“Y/n?” Jacob asked. You hummed, looking at the back of him. “I love you, too.” His words were tentatively uttered, a cautious chitter of the affection he’d earlier forgone. Your face softened, a warmth inflaming your chest; your brother was a recluse, even in his best of times and affectionately inept, him expressing verbal emotion was as rare as a cat befriending a bird, and just as heart stirring.

His shoulders tightened the longer you stared, squirming under the weight of your muteness. You bit down a teeth-baring grin, cruelly letting him stew in the anxiety for a few long moments before breaking it.

“I know.” You said and rucked your bag over your shoulder, planning to take place in your dad’s awaiting car. You brushed a hand along the blade of Jake’s shoulder when you walked by him, an action you’d both reciprocated since high school — a way to say “I love you” that put the two of you at ease. His shoulders fell.

••

You lay spread eagle across the span of your bed, staring blankly at the ivory pebbledash of the ceiling above you. Your shoes were by your door, still tied into double knots after having been toed off the second you’d walked through the frame and covered by the blue of your dropped jacket.

Today had been trying, a churning rollercoaster ride of emotions and oldened memories and fights for possessions — old wounds had been loosely stitched close and fresher ones torn savagely agape. Abe’s house would never again be easy to be in, a house that was once so full of floundering life was now haunted with the ghosts of love and loss and the weight followed you even now, far from the once home.

Heaving a shuddering breath, you looked to the closed sack beside you. The culprit to your fib lay within, awaiting your curious melancholy with a beckoning lure; you lugged yourself up to pull the bag closer, tugging the zip open and gently manoeuvring the box out.

The golden latch clicked lowly as you unlatched it, the metal glistening against the dim light of your bedside lamp invitingly, a siren song to your desires that you tug open gingerly. The photos you’d earlier shuffled through had been placed so hastily back into the coffer that they were flipped the right side down, revealing the looping calligraphy of your grandfather's handwriting you hadn’t previously known inked them.

Spreading the turned pictures along the fold of your comforter, you briefed over the dates and names.

Peregrine; 1940. Victor & Bronwyn; 1939. Hugh; 1939. Horace; 1938. Millard; 1940.

You paused with a staggering pulsation of shocked disbelief. These were their names — the names of the children you’d longed so desperately to recall, the names you’d spent weeks racking your brain for, smothering the throes of envy towards your brother for having the one obtainable thing you wanted.

Peregrine. Abe always spoke of her with a deference, eyes glinting through the rules she’d ingrained into him — the matron of the children’s home. He never referred to her by anything other than Miss or matron, aside from the one time he’d called her the bird before quickly deferring into an invisible tangent, so you were left with only that to refer to her by.

The longer you looked at the names, the more the tales refilled your head, stringing along in flash memories.

You didn’t have many for Victor and Bronwyn, only Abe’s descriptions of their brute strength; for Hugh, you recalled how often he’d use his bees to his advantage, eluding the others with a colony to bypass them; for Horace, you had a handful more — your grandfather having taken the time to fill your head with more of him whenever you expressed how unpeculiar he seemed in comparison — all about his interest in style and his gentlemanly nature and his dreams, now that you were older, the prophetic element to his peculiarity was much more intriguing. Millard’s tales were favoured between you and Jake, told on repeat to induce bellyaching laughter, Abe would laugh with you, choking over the words in breathless stutters — they were all of how Millard would go nude to startle the townspeople and the other children.

You huffed a watery chuckle. The photos still in the coffer beckoned when you looked at them, ageing corners yellowing and curling. The top seated one didn’t bring forth any recollection, only a chill that raised the hair on the back of your neck. Two children, dressed in extravagant all white, covering them down to even the tips of their fingers and the full shine of their eyes; the masks they wore run the full globe of their heads, leaving only two small slots for seeing and breathing, and looked to be made of thick paper mache. They were pressed side by side, one arm thrown over the other's shoulder with their heads tilted to face the taller photographer and when you flipped the monochrome the names there were nonexistent, replaced by only: The Twins; 1939.

Abe never showed you this photo. The longer you looked at it the more you understood why. Still now, at seventeen, it made you swallow and place it downwards. You were never good with faceless, masked, oldened pictures — the unknown lying beneath it always made your mind run rampant with images conjured from the darkest parts of your imagination, like a fear of monsters under beds. The fact that they were peculiar only fueled the fear; the twins could actually be something made of nightmares under their masks.

A blonde stood in the next picture, hair falling in perfect waves. Her dress hung loose, patterned with spaced flowers, collared with a Peter Pan style most popular in the 1920’s and lengthing down to her mid calf. In her hand hung a thick platform boot, buckled with just as thick metal clasps and patterned with swirls — it looked like it weighed a ton but she held it like a weightless overcoat, looped through a finger. The matching one rests a few feet behind her, just before a patch of fallen, autumn browned leaves. She floated above the ground, bare feet hovering in a cleared circle, arms hanging by her sides, and an even smaller circle of shade just under her.

The boot in her hand acted as an anchor, stopping her from floating up and up, through the tress of branching trees and into the abyss of the sky. Her peculiarity you remembered: aerokinetic, or at least, that’s what your grandfather had once called it. The back of her photo read: Emma; 1940.

You froze.

Surrounding her name wrote a plethora of heart-shapes, calligraphed in the same deep black ink as the other pictures, some were coloured where others lay empty but you imagined all were done with a certain absentmindedness. The same absentmindedness you brained when you’d fallen infatuated with a boy.

No other photo had them and you felt the piercing tendrils of something like distrust creep around you. Had Abe hid things from you and Jacob? Things that mattered, deeper things than a lost puppy love. Was she a lost puppy love? Your father and aunt always gave your grandfather sideway glances when he claimed to love your grandmother, scoffing under their breaths and whispering about “funny affairs”. You’d assumed they meant sketchy people at the time, peculiar people, your young mind naive to the bedtime stories. But now, the word “affairs” had a whole new meaning to you and you couldn’t help but wonder if Emma was “funny affairs”.

Was this why he never let you hold the pictures? So you didn’t glimpse the back and piece things together?

With a furrow between your brow, you collected the spread monochromes and placed them back into the box, lightly latching it closed and sliding it under the space between your bed and the floor, leaving the unseen for another day. Going through the motions of getting ready for bed with a robotic remembrance, your mind ran a mile a minute, all your thoughts clouded with everything he’d ever told you.

You’d always idealised him. Abe could never do wrong, if there was a man to make the sky, he hung the stars and lit the sun, if there was a word you followed without question, it was forever his. You knew it was childish, the type of endless trust you give to the instruction of your mothers words as a tot, but until now he’d never given you a reason not to take his word as law — biblical.

How many times had Abe evaded information?

When you lay down, under the comfort of your blankets and against the plush of your pillows, your body relaxed from a tense you hadn’t realised had taken you. Your eyes fluttered, forcing themselves closed, weary from the emotional turmoil that was your day but your mind wasn’t quite as ready to settle. You try to push the distrust down, hoping maybe it’ll flow out of you with sleep, but it has already paced its way through the previously impenetrable force of your idealisation of him, aflame with your fathers forever distrust.

How often did he lie to you, if he did at all?

The tendrils deepened, running murky red with betrayal and cutting its sharp knife-like point into the depths of your gut.

Did you ever truly know him or was he a man of well spun lies and secret lives?

••

Your birthday came quickly. The excitement that usually took home in your chest wasn’t there at all, rather diminished by a hazy cloud of something akin to sorrow.

The initial shock-horror of the accident had slowly been dwindling, evaporating in such a way you barely noticed, but in its place lay the wanting of Abe to be there for your milestones — and everything that came in between. This was your first birthday without him and the third time it sunk a hollow home into your chest.

Your parents had arranged a surprise party, more for Jacob than for you, that was turning out to be more of a family gathering. The living area was crowded with the subsections of your extended family — cousins you’d never met and aunts and uncle’s you could just barely remember. You’d been lucky enough to be able to slip off through the archway of the door closest to the party, falling just shy of an unfamiliar woman, who had been following you around all night and trying to start a conversation.

Jacob’s walls are lined with posters of things you’d never been able to take interest in and trinkets gathering dust atop his own chipped chest of drawers. He’d never been particularly messy, like Abe he had an organised clutter of things that seemed otherwise useless piling on the spare shelves of his open closet, but his floor was kept clear. The only thing that stood out amongst his space was the drawn blinds; Jacob was one for daylight when you were children, the curtains never stayed closed long enough for you to lay in and he’d go around all your house pulling the curtains aside and hooking them back, seeing a change as small as this reminded you just how hard the loss of Abe was for him.

Footsteps creaked along the floor outside the door, coming along in a rushed pattern. A fleet of panic took your breath. Surely the same lady from earlier wouldn’t go as far as to follow you in here, surely she wasn’t that desperate to talk with you. The doorknob twisted and clicked open in the same second. Jacob’s body slipped between the small gap of the frame, his hair and shirt dishevelled the same way yours had been. You let out a breath.

He hadn’t noticed you perched on the edge of his bed yet, head thrown back against the door and his eyes squoze tight, his grip on the handle didn’t loosen, twisting and turning it round and back again.

“Uncle Mayan?” You ask. He flings himself backwards, headbutting the door with a resounding thwack, and groans as his hand flies to cradle the crown of his head. Your eyes meet his, swarmed with mirth and Jacob’s face twists with irritation and relief.

“Yes.” He mithers, shuffling the distance to his bed and slouching to sit atop his crumpled duvet while still kneading his scalp. “What are you doing in my room? I know you're a lazy ass but surely not enough to not walk two doors down.”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, shoving his head forward with force. Jacob screeches and sends his elbow into your ribs. The hit tethers over your skin and pulses pain up your side, when your hand touches the area it’s already tender and you’re sure it’s already blooming with irate reds and blues. “Asshole,” You snarl. “That’s gonna bruise.”

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Y/n.” He smiles sarcastically, still rubbing the back of his scalp.

“That’s it.” You sneer playfully. “You’ve waged war.”

Jacob raises his brows, “You already did that when you scared the crap out of me.”

You huff a shallow breath, narrowing your eyes at him, “I was only in here to get away from an aunt I don’t remember ever meeting before. She wouldn’t stop following me around and I already talked with her for twenty minutes. I don’t think she even told me her name.”

Jacob wheezes a laugh at your misfortune, falling back into his bed. “You deser-”

A knock resounds on his door, three light raps against the wood. He springs back up as your fathers sister enters without waiting for his say. When you look at him, he looks as enervated as you feel.

“It’s Aunt Susie.” She smiles, making her way over to you almost sheepishly. “I’m so glad you’re in here,” Her blue eyes reflect off the encroaching daylight, peaking through the shutter, when she looks at you. “Thought you guys might want to open this one.”

You shuffle closer to Jacob when she sits on the edge of the bed, giving her more space to settle. The small, book-shaped package she’d walked in with rustles its brown paper when she softly hands it over to you. You hold it with a frown, looking puzzled between the gift, Jacob and her. Susie’s grin softens as she fills in the pieces. “It’s from your grandpa. Found it while I was packing up.”

Jacob swallows lightly as he takes it from your hold, thumbing the curt edges when he looks to her, lips parted. “Thanks.” He says softly.

Susie huffs a small laugh, pushing up from the bed with her hands and making her way out the open door. Jacob looks to you when the soft click of the door sounds, his eyes round. You can only gesture to the gift in his hands.

The rip of the paper echoes louder than it should when he tugs it free, somehow thrumming louder through you than the thump thump of your soaring heartbeat.

As you suspected, when Jacob pulled the paper back a hardback book reveals itself. The cover isn’t much to marvel over, shades of blue and white forming a pretty picture on its front but its title folds your brows.

The Complete Essays and Other Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Abe was a man of many interests. Sailing, history in most its forms, music, storytelling, geography, travelling; but through all of that never once had he expressed an interest in poetry, not to you.

Jacob parted the hard cover from its beginning page, the spine creaking lowly under the movement and you smothered the returning hollowness that wove your heart to scoot closer. Abe’s handwriting drew your eyes the moment you saw the yellowing page, calligraphed as beautifully as you always remembered it and addressed to your brother.

To Jake, and the worlds he has yet to discover. From Grandpa xx

Only your brother. Your heart sank.

Jake took no notice of the drop of your shoulders or the swallow you choked through, absorbed entirely in the final gift your grandfather ever gave him. He turns the next page to a photograph slotted between, one of a tall hill, buzzed green grass and mounted with darker trees. There’s a line of differently coloured brick buildings just below the slope and before what seems like a small beach of grainy sand or a white paved walkway leading into a clear-watered section of a larger bay.

Cairnholm. The word is written in clear letters in the lower left corner of the photo and you wonder briefly if that’s what this place was before Jacob flips the card over to more beautifully looped letters. The silence lingers thick in the air as you both read.

My dearest Abe,

Emma flashes through your mind like a peregrine falcon, quick and fleeting and dauntingly beguiling. You hope terribly that your grandfather hadn’t been stupid enough to leave evidence of an affair so cruelly for your brother to find; you bearing the burden was enough.

I hope this card finds you well. The children and I yearn to hear your news. I do hope you will visit us again soon. We should so love to you see you.

With admiration, Alma Peregrine.

Unmistakable relief floods you in waves. Peregrine. The matron.

Jacob doesn’t utter a word for the two minutes more you stay sat, only flips back and forth between the words of Abe marring the opening page and the loops of Alma’s postcard. You leave his room with a heavy heart, ignoring the calls of your name from the bustling living room behind you. No final gift to awe over, to mourn with.

You wonder if he hadn’t found one yet before his unfortunate demise or if it had been chucked with the rest of his things considered insignificant and frivolous.

The slam of your door does little to quench the unbridled rage tightening your mind.

~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~

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