#also featuring the scream tail I immediately caught as soon as I was let loose in area zero lol

[spittyfishy]

Well it took ages but I finally finished the main game of Pokémon Scarlet!! It was super fun and as always I wanted to draw my team to mark the occasion! So I’d like y’all to meet Daffy the Quaquaval, Cham-p the Pawmot, Barbie the Tinkaton, Olie the Coalossal, Black Ice the Cetitan, and Girlboss the Salazzle!! They were all great and I’m super excited to dive in to the DLC next!

[ruthiswriting]

body of choice

chainsaw man | denji, power, hayakawa aki, gen, 5k | on ao3

“It’s just…” He stopped. “You really don’t care about tits?”

There was a long silence, punctuated only by low buzz of Aki’s desk lamp. “You care about tits,” Aki said finally, “an unusual amount.”

(or: Time off work means that Denji gets to spend a lot of time thinking about what exactly it is that he likes about tits, anyway. Gender is involved. Power helps.)

inspired by my roommate’s headcanon that denji is a trans lesbian and doesnt know it yet! this fic takes place after the international assassin arc but before ch 73.

trigger warning for denji making transphobic statements due to the fact that he doesnt know that being trans is a thing, internalized transphobia, and body dysphoria. general disclaimer that i am not a trans woman but have been known to experience a gender from time to time. enjoy!

-

They’d all been given time off work, after the Darkness Devil. A leave of absence for Aki to recover, for Power to get her head screwed back on straight, and for Denji to sit and wait for them to be well, since he wasn’t allowed to go on work missions by himself. It was coming to an end soon— Aki had acclimated to his one arm pretty well, and Power didn’t wake up screaming anymore, so they’d be back to work soon.

Still, Denji was running out of ways to fill the empty time. Having nothing to do made him sizzle with nervous energy, waiting for something to do, for a task and directive to achieve. Aki provided the direction of reading materials, movies, and chores— but it still gave him too much time to think.

So it was a lazy afternoon, not long after lunch but still too early for another meal, when Denji asked Power a question.

“Hey, Power,” he said. “You took over a dead body, right?”

She was stretched out on the floor on her back, hugging Meowy in her arms— Aki always said that she held him too tightly, but no matter what Power did the stupid cat purred like a pleased, rusty motorboat. Denji’s question made her stall, frowning as Meowy squirmed. “Eh?”

“That’s what Aki said a fiend was,” Denji said, rolling onto his elbow to look at her from the couch. “A devil that took over a human’s dead body. So you did that, right?”

She paused, thinking this over— reaching for something hidden in her memory. Then her eyes widened, and she sat up. “That’s right,” she said, suddenly triumphant. She rubbed one finger under her nose, pivoting Meowy to rest awkwardly in the crook of her other arm. “I forgot… The way Power was born!”

There was the beginning of the story in the gleam of her eyes— something that would go on, and be uninteresting and mostly nonsensical. “Yeah, I don’t really care about any of that,” Denji said, before she could begin. “I was just wondering, like,” he paused, and one hand rose up, like he could better form the thought if he could grab it. “…Why’d you end up picking the body you did?”

“I used whatever was convenient,” she said. “Of course, my body is the best body I could have gotten. Tis one of the reasons I am so perfect.”

“So you didn’t care about what it looked like?”

Power sniffed, immediately dismissive of the question. “Only humans care about things like that,” she said. Denji could tell she was starting to lose interest in the conversation— she was starting to lift Meowy in front of her, the cat’s little arms jutting awkwardly toward her as his body dangled. “It is very sad! The only good devil feature I have now are my horns… Human bodies really are so unappealing. And they all look the same.”

This caught Denji off guard. He slid forward on the couch, trying to get Power’s attention again to argue. “Huh? That’s not true at all. We all look completely different. Like, you don’t look anything like me. And Aki looks super different from us…” His argument warmed up slowly as he cooked it over, and suddenly, he was invigorated. “We all look super fucking different! That’s crazy.”

“What are you two talking about?” Aki appeared in the doorframe, his one remaining arm wrapped over the white laundry basket he’d been struggling with the whole day.

“Denji is jealous of my perfect body,” Power said.

“No way!”

Before Power could say anything else stupid, Meowy squirmed over her shoulder to land on the ground behind her with a thump. She wheeled again to grab at him, but he scooted comfortably out of her arm’s reach to vanish under the couch, curling his patchy tail around his feet. “Meowy!”

Denji pointed at her, victorious. “That’s what you get. He’s not gonna come out for the rest of the day.”

“You two, stop fighting,” Aki said, before Power’s high pitched whine could end in a yell. “Denji, help me hang up the laundry. And Power, you need to clean Meowy’s litter box. It stinks.”

“Meowy should be allowed to shit wherever he wants,” Power grumbled.

“He does shit wherever he wants,” Aki said. “He just has better manners than you.”

As he stood on the balcony with Aki, picking up shirts one by one to hang, Power’s words continued to turn in Denji’s chest, until they finally stopped to lodge themselves there at an uncomfortable angle. It felt like he’d swallowed a piece of food before chewing it all the way through, and some piece was sticking there. His breaths couldn’t dislodge it.

Was he jealous of Power’s body?

No. There was no way. Why would he want a body like Power’s?

He’d seen a lot of Power’s body. All of it, actually. He knew what it looked like, what it felt like— even what it tasted like, not that he’d wanted to drink her blood. And he’d decided, pretty thoroughly, he wasn’t interested. Whatever exciting mystery lay under a girl’s clothes had fallen flat when it was attached to Power.

But maybe there was something else to want about her body? Something not about sex, or touch. He couldn’t name it. Or maybe, eventually, he could name it— but he definitely shouldn’t.

Laundry ended with hanging their spare public safety uniforms, all in an identical line. Denji was bigger than Power, and Aki was taller than both of them— still, they were all close enough in size that their clothes could easily mingle together in a confused heap. Denji had gotten halfway through getting dressed into Power’s too-small clothes to know he couldn’t wear her pant size, but on the line they almost looked identical. Empty squares of fabric, wafting in the warm breeze. When the sleeves moved, they looked like they were waving in time.

“You’re thinking about something,” Aki said.

He was kneeling by the now empty laundry basket, because even though Denji could have hung the laundry by himself in about the same amount of time, Aki had insistently stayed to pass the laundry to him. Denji guessed he just didn’t like being able to finish the stuff he could before, when he had both arms, and that maybe if he stuck around to the end of the task it was like he could do it anyway. But also, it felt like he was watching Denji. Waiting for something important.

Denji clipped the last shirt up, letting the clothespin clap shut around the starched white collar. “It’s nothin’ important,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

The next day, Denji remembered something that brought him back to Power, reading through a manga that Aki had brought home from the conbini.

“I thought of something else about what you said that doesn’t make sense,” Denji said, standing over her.

She had to move the volume down out of her face to look at him, scowling immediately at the interruption. “What?”

“You said that you don’t care about your body, but you do,” Denji said, accusatory. “You wore those— fake boob things. Why the hell would you do that if you didn’t care about what your body looked like?”

She stared at him, and Denji could see from her expression, instantly, she’d forgotten the whole conversation already. Power forgot about a lot of shit, admittedly, but for some reason it felt like a bad sign— like Denji was putting way too much thought into something stupid. He went on pointlessly to add, “you know— what we talked about. How you said human bodies are gross…”

“Correct. Human bodies are gross,” Power said, instantly confident even if she’d forgotten the context. “But there are ways to make them less gross.”

She sat up, throwing the magazine aside. Denji jerked back, out of the circumference of her turning legs, and watched her draw herself up. “It is also helpful to have large breasts,” she said, confident. “Because many people desire them, and so they act in useful ways— like when you helped me save Meowy.” She folded her legs under her and crossed her arms, with sudden finality.“Isn’t that right?”

“Well— yeah,” Denji said. “But you couldn’t have known I would do that before we met…” His eyes flickered to her chest automatically at the memory— she wasn’t wearing them right now, so her t-shirt hung loosely against her body.

“But I knew humans are disgusting. And that they would be interested in me having larger breasts.” She crossed her arms and legs at once, forming a defiant pretzel. “Maybe you should try it some time, Denji.”

Any further argument Denji had against this line of reasoning immediately evaporated. He felt his face flush instantly, and he struggled for words— or anything at all, really. “What—“ he stopped, sputtering. “Don’t be fucking stupid! I can’t have tits, I’m a guy.”

“Why not?”

He stared at her, bewildered. “Cause— cause guys don’t have tits.”

It was so obvious it felt stupid to say— but even with it being obvious it felt like a weak argument. Power wrinkled her nose. “Stupid! Very stupid, Denji. Come with me.” She stood up, briefly on the couch before hopping down next to him. And then, she grabbed his arm and marched him to the bathroom, her fingers making a vise grip against his skin.

“You’re lucky I’m here to help you,” Power said, shutting the bathroom door behind them. This seemed like a bad sign to Denji— Power had to practically be bribed to not leave the door open when shitting, and she didn’t care when they shut the door either. She was trying to cut off his escape route. “Humans are so limited and rigid in their thinking! It’s very boring, so I will help you.”

She was wriggling out of her t-shirt as she talked, discarding it on the floor between them. Then, she ducked her arms behind her back to undo the clasps on her bra. That wasn’t really a big deal— Denji had seen Power naked before, and he’d done her laundry enough times to know what her underwear looked like. But he was starting to feel nervous about wherever this conversation was going. “Power,” he said, eyes flickering to follow her movements, “I don’t know about this.”

“I’m only trying to show you,” she said. “That it is very easy. And that humans do look alike.”

And then, she was pulling his shirt off— Denji choked as the cloth dragged against his mouth, arms jerking up automatically to follow the movement. His shirt joined hers on the floor.

With businesslike hands, Power turned him around so he was staring at the blank drywall. He felt the bra drag around his ribcage. “Whoa— whoa,” Denji yelped.

“Don’t bother fighting me! This is for your own good!” She was snapping the clasps in place, so it was snug against his body. They scratched against his back as they clicked.

Then, she pulled the straps over his arms. Denji felt his eyes drop, to where his cleavage would be, if he had cleavage (but he didn’t because he was a guy, and so he shouldn’t be thinking about this). The rip cord of his chainsaw heart curled awkwardly out between the bra’s lace detailing. He could feel it constrict in his chest— an ugly spasm in reaction to the way it gapped against him.

Power’s hands snaked out from under his armpits. She was holding the breast pads. “Put them on,” she commanded.

Hell no, Denji screamed. Or, well, he thought he screamed. His voice wouldn’t cooperate.  Instead, his hand moved, mechanical, to take them from her.

They were pretty much how he remembered the first time— silicone. Kind of squishy, except for an odd firmness in the middle. There was a sticky backing that probably helped keep them from falling off your chest. They also stank, since they lived up against Power’s sweaty unwashed body most of the time.

He raised them to his chest, and after a few moments of arranging, they were on, cool and sticky against his skin.

Power turned him again with one firm hand on his upper arm. Now, they were both facing the mirror— Denji in Power’s bra. Both shirtless. Both, somehow, with tits. She leaned against him and crossed her arms, smirking with satisfaction. “Now you see,” she declared. “We don’t look so different.”

She was wrong, obviously. Denji was taller than Power, and broader shouldered, and just— different. They looked different. Because they were two different people, obviously, but also because Denji wasn’t a chick. No way anyone would buy that he was just from some fake boobs.

But also, he couldn’t stop looking at them. Why? He knew they weren’t real, and also, they were on him. The usual reasons Denji wanted to be looking at tits couldn’t really apply. Especially when Power, who had actual tits, was standing next to him, naked from the waist up.

Of course, he’d already figured out he wasn’t interested in Power, so it made sense that he wasn’t looking at her— except nothing about this situation made sense at all. Especially that some noise, buzzing in the back of his skull constantly, had gone quiet. A feeling that he hadn’t even known was there was gone.

“You can keep them if you want, Denji,” Power said generously. “I only wear the bra because Aki makes me.”

Reality snapped back into place. Denji pushed her away, yanking off the bra. The boob pads unstuck from his body with only a little coaxing, and they fell to the floor with a mushy plap. “Fucking— keep your clothes on, Power!”  

Denji ran from the bathroom without reclaiming his shirt, hiding in his room from both Power and whatever he had seen in the mirror. He’d have to come back for the shirt later— Aki always got onto them for leaving their clothes in the bathroom when they showered. But he wanted to be sure that Power would be gone. Power, and her stupid fake boobs, and whatever she’d done to him when she snapped that bra into place.

That night, Aki turned on an old cartoon while he cooked dinner— the sizzle of grease popping over the tinny background music and shouted dialogue. TV always mesmerized Power, although she complained if there wasn’t blood and gore. She still sat close to the screen, blocking the bottom half with the top of her head and horns.

Denji didn’t care about TV, really. It had been kind of novel at first, since his dad had sold the TV set when he was pretty young and they’d never had money for things like movies. But since he’d gotten to watch movies with Makima, watching grainy TV on Aki’s tiny television set had hardly been appealing. But he still watched, apathetic, until his stomach began to twist again.

The show was about some kid who got cursed, so that every time they got wet they’d change from a boy to a girl— or a girl to a boy. Denji wasn’t sure. It seemed pretty inconvenient, honestly. You probably couldn’t plan for being splashed with water in every situation, and the kid didn’t want everyone to know about it, so it just ended up being a lot of dumb shit about the kid managing all the different identities and what people thought he was— or she was. Denji could hardly keep up with his one life, so managing two seemed like a huge hassle.

So he didn’t know he felt so much envy, every time the dumb kid slipped into some water fountain or got dunked in a river. It didn’t make sense to want that. Nothing he was feeling made sense.

He took a shower after dinner. The hot water steamed over the mirror, leaving Denji alone with his thoughts, and the water, trickling over his back. His naked chest.

It was probably something wrong with his head. He knew that already, though—everyone had already made it clear that whatever Denji thought about anything was probably weird and fucked up. This was probably the same sort of thing. Whatever this was.

He rubbed his skin raw with soap and tried not to look down.

It was early in the morning when Denji couldn’t take it anymore.

Without understanding why, he crawled out of bed— over where Power was sprawled, taking up half the space in his bed, like she always ended up doing whenever she passed out there— and crept down the hall to Aki’s room.

When Makima had arranged for Denji to live with Aki, the door to Aki’s room had stayed solidly shut. He hadn’t been explicitly told to stay out, but Denji knew when not to sniff. And it wasn’t like he’d been especially compelled by whatever Aki got up to, so, whatever.

But then, Power had moved in too, along with her near-constant impulse to wreck most of Aki’s possessions and her cat that liked to sleep under Aki’s desk. Aki had waged an intense internal battle between wanting to make sure he could hear when Power was up to shit and wanting to keep at least an illusion of privacy. But at some point, he’d admitted defeat, and the door remained just slightly cracked, even when he was sleeping.

Then, after the Darkness Devil, Power would alternate between sleeping in Denji’s bed and Aki’s, so whatever privacy Aki had attempted to maintain had been thoroughly destroyed. He didn’t seem to care too much anymore anyway— even when it was Denji’s turn Aki always ended up ghosting down the hall to check on them, when he thought they were both asleep.

The light was off, and Denji was at least smart enough to feel bad about bugging Aki when he was definitely asleep, and when Denji should be too. He hovered in front of the door, hand half clenched over the knob, before finally reasoning that he’d known when he’d walked over here that Aki would be asleep, so he might as well follow through. He pulled the door open, and crept into the room.

Denji had seen Aki fall asleep on the couch enough times to know that he slept like the dead.  It wasn’t something he understood— it seemed like a pretty big weakness for a devil hunter, if he was being honest. But at this point he at least knew the drill. In the dark, Denji hunted for Aki’s desk lamp, and clicked it on.

The warm yellow bulb cast dozy light over the room. Aki stayed stone still, body half curved on the bed in an uncomfortable contortion. Denji sat next to him, touching his shoulder. “Hey, Aki,” he said, voice a mutter, and felt his ears turn red.

On any other day, Aki would have remained asleep long enough for Denji to back out of this terrible idea. But as Denji hurriedly pulled his hand away, Aki’s nose wrinkled, and he slowly blinked awake. Denji’s shoulders sunk.

“Denji?” Aki’s voice was still thick with sleep, and even in the dim light he squinted like it hurt. “What’s going on? Did Power clog the toilet?”

“It’s not important,” Denji blurted. “Don’t let me bug you, actually.” He stood, planning to leave, but he couldn’t get his feet to unstick from the floor. Every attempt he made just rooted him more solidly in place.

Behind him, Aki’s gaze slowly focused on his back. “…Is everything okay?”

It was a weird sentence, from Aki. He knew it, too— there was something self conscious in the way the words formed, even through his fuzzy concern. But this whole moment was weird, and Denji figured if they both knew it he might as well take advantage of it. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Aki. “I was just, like,” he stalled, trying to find a way to word what was sitting in his chest. “Wanting to know what you thought of something I’ve been thinking about. It’s not important, but, you know…”

The lamp’s bulb was making a weird buzzing noise, filling the dead space between Denji’s fumbling sentences. Aki’s body hadn’t moved, but his eyebrows kept contracting, like if he furrowed them enough he could get to the point of Denji’s sentence. Finally, he said, words slow, “you want my advice.”

Super lame. It sounded so lame when Aki said it, in his weird, grown up way of talking about everything. “Yeah,” Denji said.

Aki looked at Denji. Looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table that was scheduled to go off in three hours (which Denji knew because whenever he couldn’t sleep he could hear Aki start to move at the same time every morning). Looked up, finally, at the ceiling, squinting into nothing. Then, he said, “okay.” And he sat up.

Before he could stop himself, Denji sat again on the bed. This time, Aki drew his legs up, making room for Denji. He waited expectantly for Denji to start talking.

“It’s just..” Denji was glad, suddenly, for the awkward configuration on the bed. Looking at Aki in the eye felt too intense. “You know. I was thinking about…” He took a breath, and said in a  burst, “Aki, you’re gay, right?”

The silence suddenly got a lot thicker. Denji could feel the way Aki stared into the side of his head with a new, unwelcome intensity. When he talked, there was a beginning of an aggravated edge to his voice. “Did you wake me up at three in the morning to ask me why I’m gay?”

“No,” Denji said defensively. “It’s just— I’m trying to understand something, okay.”

“Why..” Aki stopped, and ran a hand over his face. He tried again, voice mechanically even. “Why do you think I’m gay?”

This, at least, was an easy one. “Your ears,” Denji said. And he pointed at Aki’s ear, where normally, black stud earrings would poke out from behind his bangs. “They’re both pierced, so like… One of them’s gotta be the gay one, right.”

Aki’s face was beginning to sour at his usual impressive rate. Unusually, though, he made an effort to contain it— to keep his bad mood from running off the edges of his face into the rest of the house. “We can unpack that later,” he said. “What’s your point?”

Denji wasn’t sure, was the thing. He wasn’t sure what his point was— only that there was this unknown thing lurking in the base of his stomach, something he didn’t know was good or not. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, like the answer was living up there. “It’s just…” He stopped. “You really don’t care about tits?”

There was a long silence, punctuated only by low buzz of Aki’s desk lamp. “You care about tits,” Aki said finally, “an unusual amount.”

“Fuck,” Denji said. He rubbed one arm over his eyes. “I know you think it’s stupid, okay. It’s...” He didn’t know. He didn’t know what it was.

Aki’s head tilted, just a little— the lamp shadowing the way he squinted at Denji. But then, he said, voice slow, ponderous: “are you thinking you don’t care about tits? And that…” He raised his eyebrow, leaving the connection for Denji to make.

“I’m not gay,” Denji said, voice definitive.

Aki didn’t argue this point. He nodded, willing to accept it without trouble. “But there’s something else about it that bothers you,” he said.  “Like…” He paused, slowly feeling out his words. “That you think what you want about them— might not be normal?”

They were statements of fact, made carefully— Aki watching his reaction between every minute word. So Denji knew that he saw the way his shoulders shriveled, inching away from whatever Aki was arriving to. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” he mumbled.

“Why not?”

Denji stared down at his hands. His hands, resting on his legs, and the curve of his stomach against his boxers. “When all those assassins were coming after me,” he said finally. “One of them said… That some things you’re just better not knowing about. So, maybe it’s one of those things.”

Aki considered. “I suppose that can be true in some cases,” he allowed. “But I’d rather know the truth, however painful. …And I don’t think it really is one of those things, this time.”

“So what do you think it is?” Denji challenged him, finally turning his head to look Aki in the eye. “You’ve got something in mind, right? You wouldn’t have said something like that otherwise.”

“Not really.”

Denji couldn’t make out Aki’s face clearly in the dark, so it was hard to tell if he was lying. “Yeah, right,” he said. And he looked away again.

It was a while before Aki responded. Before he said anything, he shifted to be sitting next to Denji— legs close together, the ghost of his empty sleeve batting against Denji’s arm. Denji chanced a look at him, out of the corner of his eyes, but Aki wasn’t meeting his eyes either. He was just looking at some point on the wall. Reflecting.

“Some things you might be better off knowing,” Aki said. “Some things maybe you shouldn’t. But I don’t think it’s wrong to want to get to know yourself better… Even if it’s uncomfortable in the meantime.”

“You do have something in mind,” Denji mumbled.

Aki paused again. “Only based off of what you told me,” he said, voice light. “What you asked me.”

Denji’s vision swam. He squeezed his eyes shut, insistent on blocking out whatever he was feeling, and however Aki was looking at him. “It really doesn’t matter,” he said again, because maybe if he kept saying it it would be true.

The bed creaked, and he felt the mattress rise underneath him as Aki stood. Denji dared to open his eyes to watch him move. Aki was turning to face Denji, so he could use his one remaining arm to push him down to the bed— gently, one hand firm on his shoulder. Denji didn’t fight. He let his body sag, until his head was resting against one of Aki’s lumpy pillows. His eyes kept prickling, so laying down was probably a bad idea. Whatever was burning behind his eyes only got worse the gentler Aki was.

But then, mercifully, Aki turned the lamp off, dropping them both into darkness. He went around to the far side of the bed, and laid next to Denji, a tiny sigh bursting out from behind his lips. Denji felt his throat click.

Aki’s arm cuffed around his head, almost cradling him in the crook of his elbow. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore, if you don’t want to,” he said. “It’s fine if it takes you time to figure it out.”

Denji wanted to protest more. To say that really, there was nothing to figure out, and that Denji was just making a big deal out of nothing. Power had said and done some weird Power shit, and that was all. He could get over it. But at this point, that felt even stupider. So Denji swallowed, and nodded. He didn’t trust his voice anymore, so Aki’s only answer would have to be the way the back of Denji’s neck shifted against his wrist.

Aki didn’t say anything else, only laid against him in the dark, a silent, still presence. Denji drew in breaths until his heart calmed, until he could trust himself to speak. “Should check on Power,” he muttered. “She still gets nightmares sometimes… ‘Specially if she wakes up alone.”

“Right,” Aki murmured. “I can go look— you don’t have to get up.”

“Nah,” Denji said, and he started to sit up.

Before he could get further than his elbows, though, a heavy, furry weight thudded into Denji’s chest. Meowy sank heavily against him, like a furry rock pinning him to the bed.

Denji swore, and in response, Power’s cat meowed in his face. “God, your breath stinks,” he muttered.

“What are you both doing in here?” The vague outline of Power’s body lingered in Aki’s doorway, like a horror movie monster.  If a horror movie monster refused to eat vegetables or brush her teeth. “You left me alone, Denji.”

Denji grumbled, still trying to move the cat. “What’s it look like we’re doing? We’re sleeping. And you defeated the Darkness Devil, so it’s fine, right? Nothing bad’s gonna happen. You’re too tough.”

“Not important!” She stepped into the room and the bare sliver of moonlight coming through Aki’s balcony. It made her face white, almost gleaming with sweat. “I knew Meowy wouldn’t leave me for no reason. You two are too weak and pathetic to be left alone! Very good work, Meowy.” She crossed the room to crawl into bed next to them, pressing up against Denji in an insistent effort to fit.

Denji grumbled in protest, but there wasn’t any stopping her— in a matter of seconds she was insistently pretzeled next to him.

“Thanks for watching out for us, Power,” Aki murmured. “Good job.”

He was already falling back asleep. Which was really pretty annoying, because Aki’s bed really wasn’t big enough for the three of them. But if Denji wanted to move, he’d have to drag all of them with him and he just didn’t want to deal with that. So he sighed and wriggled over, making room for Power by jamming himself against Aki’s shoulder.

Meowy slid off his chest like a heavy ooze, landing between him and Power on the crook of his shoulder. Power curled happily around the cat, one arm catching around it to drape across Denji’s chest.

And then, they were asleep again, with just Denji awake. Watching the dawn light start to crawl across the ceiling.

Sometimes, when he was stuck on shit like this, he started to wonder if he had been better off when it was just him and Pochita. Even if he didn’t have money and food, it was less complicated. He didn’t have time to think about things like tits, because he was too busy trying to pay rent, and the bills, and feed him and Pochita. It was harder, but also way, way fucking easier.

Right now, though, it was okay. Denji could stand thinking a little more, if it was like this.

He let his eyes close. This time, he fell asleep.

[maerrybom]

Villain or Victim?

oops I haven’t written the first diary entry for thalia dhsjd - her route doesn’t follow the black swan incident from the game, but she’s still an orphan tho,, + tw: character death, distressing imagery & abuse, mention of blood

found in masterlist

Thalia’s Diary - Entry 1

Flashback

I didn’t... I didn’t mean to do it.

“You—You monster! A vile being like you should’ve never been born!”

The crazed woman hellishly screamed at my fear-stricken face, lunging at my tiny body and firmly wrapped her fingers around my bandaged neck. Hot, painful tears rolled down my swollen, bruised cheeks as I tried to plead for my life. Her grip around my neck tightened as the seconds pass by while I poorly attempted to claw at her hands. It was getting hard to breathe.

“M-Mother! Please..! Don’t kill me..!”

Please don’t.

Hopelessly, I thrashed against the ground as my mother continued to strangle me, draining the air out of my lungs. My head was already starting to feel woozy but I still managed to muster up all the strength I had and desperately scratched her arms instead, feeling some of her blood coat my fingertips.

“You’re an abomination to this to this world! You deserve to die..!”

Please... Please let me live!

My sore throat was burning and my cries echoed against the walls of my head, shouting at the heavens in misery. But, my frenzied cries fell in silence as the heavens watched my infernal torment with cold, distant eyes. The glorious skies that I always looked up to had done nothing but look down on me. I was doomed.

“I brought you into this world... I have the right to take your life away!”

No... No... I want to live...!

All of a sudden, I felt an intense wave of heat rush through my veins and I thought that was the end of me. However, my mother jumped away from my body and horrifyingly began to scream in anguish in front of my petrified eyes. I hastily crawled away from her in fear into a corner, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away at the dark, crimson flames that coated and swallowed my mother whole. This time, it was her turn to struggle for her life and she threw & kicked the furniture in the process as if she was trying to extinguish the flames away. It wasn’t working.

My mother was dying.

I felt my breath hitch at the realisation, feeling like my heart stopped as the shivering dread dug into my skin.

This isn’t my fault.

I shouldn’t have never—

Present Time

“Thalia! Snap out of it!”

As if woken up from a dream, my mind was forcibly pushed back into reality as my eyes glared at an unfamiliar face. The shaking man looked at me in both terror and panic, silently pleading to me for his life. My glared darkened, enough to send him to his knees and make his blood run cold. He whimpered in fear as the grip I had on the collar of his uniform tightened whereas I studied his bruised face in subtle confusion. Who’s this guy? Why am I here?

“A-A demon! She’s a demon!” Someone yelled nearby.

What’s going on? I was starting to feel dizzy and felt my head pound painfully as my brain was trying to remember how I ended up being in this situation. All I remember was how I was leaving class to head back to the safety of my dorm. Why am I here? I don’t remember seeing this guy before.

“Thalia!” A firm hand gripped my shoulder to pull me away from the student as they immediately got up and scrambled away from me.

“Thalia.” My tired eyes landed onto a familiar raven-head as he looked up at me in disappointment, but I could also tell he seemed a bit worried. “Are you alright?”

“...” I didn’t want to respond as the exhaustion prevented me from doing so.

“Senpai? Is she really the newbie you were talking about?”

I was already feeling incredibly lost and quietly watched the two males in front of me. The raven-head shook his head at my lack of response whereas the unknown brunette stared at me in both concern and uncertainty.

‘Right... Wasn’t his name Johann? Who’s the lanky one?’ I thought, trying to register their faces in my head.

Johann then turned around and glared at the people who stood nearby to gossip and watch the scene unfold. “Go away.”

With his command, all of them scurried away with their tails between their legs. I didn’t even realise there were people staring at us—staring at what I’ve done. As soon as they left the three of us alone, my knees buckled beneath me and felt myself beginning to fall out of fatigue. But then, strong arms wrapped around my waist as they helped me up to keep my balance.

“Woah! That was close.” The brunette exclaimed as my eyes locked with his in shock.

“Luminous, carry her. She needs to get to the infirmary first.”

Ah, so that’s his name. I couldn’t hear anything else afterwards, but I felt myself being lifted into the air and carried away from this place. Warmth rushed to my side as my head harshly bumped against something firm, rattling the lingering thoughts in my head.

“Oh shoot..! Sorry... Um...”

My brain felt dead-tired to focus on anything and yet I ended up staring at the sight of my bloody knuckles. The bandages around my numb arms were also stained with blood and they were loose as if someone had tried to forcibly pull them off. This confused me even further.

Then, my eyes drifted towards the brunette that was currently carrying me. Quietly, I observed him and he stared back once he noticed how my stare laid upon his face. We both seemed to take in each other’s features as my steel orbs swirled with his amber ones in wonder. This boy... looks sort of lame. Yet, I can see that there’s a look in his eyes that was hidden beneath the surface as if it was afraid to see the truth.

The brunette also watched me with an odd look on his face and I can tell that he’s still wondering who I am. Although, I’ve also noticed how loud his heart was pounding against my ear and I can feel the blood rush through his veins in the arms he held my limbs with. 

‘His heart is beating so loud...’

But, I didn’t mind it. His beating heart put me at ease, feeling my erratic senses finally calm down. Abruptly, something collided against my side that brought me out of my hazy state and quietly whined in response.

“Ow...”

“Luminous!”

“Ah! Sorry! Sorry!”

This brunette, Luminous, got so distracted from staring at my looks that he ended up walking & clashing us against a lamp post. He sheepishly apologised as Johann gave him a deadpanned expression before continuing to walk in front of us. Luminous was obviously embarrassed to look at me anymore, but I kept  my eyes on him and watched his cheeks flush with red.

I wanted to laugh at his face, but a sharp pain jabbed at the side of my ribs and caused me to wince in pain. What exactly happened that put me in this state? Did I attack that student from earlier? Is this his blood on me then? Why? My pondering look must’ve caught his attention again, looking at me in worry at first before smiling reassuringly.

“Don’t worry,” He said. “We saw everything that happened, so it’s not your fault.”

‘What? Not my fault? There’s no way it wasn’t my fault.’

“That student schemed against you and that caused you to act violent.”Johann explained, keeping his eyes forward as we entered a building. “They will be punished as soon as possible.”

‘But I attacked and violated someone. I’ll still be punished.’

As if he read my thoughts, Johann responded: “You may not have been ‘conscious’, but you still provoked him. The CCTV cameras at that area is proof enough to claim you as the victim, so you’ll most likely receive a warning or a few days of suspension. You still need to explain to the Disciplinary Committee what happened before you ‘lost consciousness.’”

'I’m the victim? Me?’

My mother’s voiced echoed in my head: “You’ll become a tyrannous villain! You must cease to exist!”

“So really, don’t worry!” Luminous brought my attention back to him. “If you’re scared, I will take care of you as your senior!”

My bewildered expression gazed at his bright, genuine smile. I didn’t expect this at all. Has.. anyone smiled at me like that before? How strange. He’s also kind of... annoyingly amusing.

“You’re...” I began, “odd-looking.”

“W-What..?” The boy stared at me in shock, gaping at me like a fish. “What do you mean?! Here I was thinking of how pretty your face is but now your personality is just ugly!”

Once again, I laughed at his remark and ignored how painful my side was. He seemed surprised at that, angrily blushing in response and grumbled something under his breath.

“Quit your yapping.” Johann commented.

“But—!”

Luminous couldn’t even finish his sentence once he laid his eyes on my smiling face. He was giving off a dazed look in his eyes, so I brought my bandaged hands close to his face and flicked his forehead.

“Ouch! What was that for?!”

What an odd guy.  

[watchingcutscene]

The Legacy of Earl Grey Tea

Pairing: Levi x Reader

The abrasive, vulgar, and indifferent man was humanity's strongest. Rather uncharacteristic of his occupation as a soldier, he was a clean freak; and despite how he seemed, Levi had a side of morality and empathy. He valued the life of his comrades more than most would think. No one had ever overtly acknowledged his aberrant compassion, but the soldiers in his squadron all knew. Behind unuttered words and his constant look of dismay, the man was more caring than he gave himself credit for. Levi despised the Jaeger brat. His temper and rash desire for revenge was eventually going to become his own undoing. Between the two of them, Levi saw an uncanny resemblance, and every time he was forced to confront this hot-tempered kid, guilt would flood his senses. That was why he despised him. In his early days of service, Levi was consumed by the death of his two friends. The guilt and anger resulted from his loss led him to resort to the most reckless of decisions. He cared about nothing other than slaughtering titans, not even his own life. In fact, recalling the scene when those titans devoured his friends like livestock, he might as well have died too. Levi was nowhere the calm and rational man the Survey Corps had known him to be today. Breaking formation, running off on his own, utterly ignoring the mission of expeditions to slaughter every titan in sight was what he was known for. His comrades died trying to protect him, but there was a fire that burned his lungs that could not be settled because every time he looked in the mirror, he saw a gaping hole in his chest that no amount of revenge could fill. But he forged on ahead, one titan at a time, even at the cost of his comrades. Returning from every expedition, the captain of his squadron would scold him, but he had no ear for that. Overtime, Levi became trapped in his isolation, convincing himself that no one was ever capable of understanding his pain. But no one’s misery was ever theirs alone. Levi’s life was not void of blessings. He was just too consumed by his grief to see it. The leader of his squadron was a Corporal, about the same age as he. She made an effort to end his solitude. In the evenings when he skipped his meals, she’d stop by his room with bread and tea. The offering was first subjected to blunt rejection. He coldly declared that he “didn’t want it”, and shut the door before she could even utter a word. When Levi took his 2 am strolls during those sleepless nights, he would catch her in her office, door open to let in the breeze, catching up on paperwork. At first they would at most exchange glances when he passed, but soon, she began inviting him in. Those sleepless nights turned into regular visits to her office, where she would brew earl grey. Levi sat rather defensively between the cushions on her couch, not moving an inch. Between her paperwork, she would look up and urge for him to drink the tea, “it won’t taste good when it’s cold”, was a phrase that frequented her lips. When Levi finally accepted her offering of dinner brought to his room, she began their first real conversation. “You can’t always go out in expeditions breaking formations recklessly like that,” she said calmly, getting straight to the point, a ghost of a smile playing upon her lips. Levi immediately began regretting his decision of letting her in. It turned out, she was just the same as everyone else. He paused for a long time before replying, “It’s our jobs to kill titans. I’m not going to stay in formation and run away from titans like the rest of those cowards.” She looked up at him, her (eye colour) eyes into his grey ones, firm and unyielding, “It’s our job to go outside the walls, complete the mission, and come back alive.” He stared at her, his anger written all over his handsome features. “Everyone here has lost someone,” she said, pouring him a cup of her tea. Seeing his silence, she continued, “you can’t let your past haunt you forever.” Her casual tone set off Levi. His steely eyes were cold when he barked at her, “what do you know about my past?” This woman that was no older than he had a maturity almost unfitting for her age, “I know what it feels like to lose friends,” she paused, watching the expression on his face skew with anger, “I lost my squad, my friends, one by one, out there, because of you.” Levi froze. The expression on her face remained calm, like all the late nights in her office, the smell of earl grey never ceasing. “Human lives are fragile,” she said with a tenderness that made Levi subconsciously relax his features, “the only thing we can do is protect what we still have.” She stood up to leave. “By the way,” she turned to meet his gaze, the ghost of a smile never leaving her visage, “your room is a mess. You need to clean up after yourself.” When she opened the wooden door, a breeze that was the declaration of spring embraced her. The loose hairs of her pony tail fluttered, and for the first time, the gaping hole in Levi’s chest found a piece of itself in the ineffable sorrow that existed in her smile She was a girl who had a way with words. The saying opposites attract had proven itself in the case of Levi and (y/n). While Levi’s words were a scarcity saved for only special occasions, she did not spare him of much silence. “Drink your tea before it gets cold.” “When was the last time you washed your sheets? They smell disgusting.” “Do you have the formation memorized?” “The dust in your room is as thick the Military Police’s skulls.” But somehow, Levi found solace and liberation in her nagging. There never had been anyone who cared enough for him to spare words of such quantity. There were little things Levi had noticed and grown attached to. She was tender and kind, qualities unfit for a soldier, but her glare was strong an unyielding, just like her fists during combat training. She had an affinity for cleaning, claiming it made her feel calm, which made it all the more annoying when she entered Levi’s quarters as he seemingly was “incapable of cleaning up after himself”. Her finger tips were always a little cold because she was anemic due to a previous injury. And should there ever be a shortage of earl grey tea in her office, she would enter a state of distress, muttering “the legacy of earl grey tea cannot end yet” while frantically searching for another stash. They began appearing as a pair. Somewhere along the line, their comrades had probably started gossiping about their relationship, but neither he nor she were the kind to keep up with gossip. Being with her was a constant process of finding pieces of himself. In her nagging, in her tea, in her fingers, and in her ghostly smile. It was as if he was waiting for the final piece to fill that gaping hole before he could return the favour and utter for her three words that might become a turning point in their lives. But that turning point had a slight variation in outcome. In the midst of that summer was the 38th expedition. It was also her last. Before leaving, she repeated to him again and again “don’t break formation”, “follow my orders”, “if you see a titan, ignore it unless otherwise commanded”, until Levi interrupted. “I understand, (y/n),” staring directly into her (eye colour) orbs, a rare smile played upon his lips. She paused, processing his smile, and returned a toothy grin of her own. Of all the things that could have went wrong, it was Levi. Half way through the expedition, the Squadron ahead was attacked by four titans. (y/n) commanded to not break formation, and to follow Erwin’s orders, which was to avoid any contact with titans by all means necessary. She led the squad East of the original path, hoping to move around the titans. Not long into their detour, they caught sight of two titans trailing the squad. They were abnormal ones. The team continued forward, hoping to outrun them, but slowly, they were closing in. “There’s no way we can outrun them,” Levi called out to (y/n), catching up beside her. “We have to,” she said, eyes focused ahead, “there’s no way the five of us can take out two abnormal 15 meters.” “We have no choice!” Levi shouted. (y/n) did not respond. Her brows were drawn into a frown and her lips pursed into a thin line. Seeing her inaction, Levi declared, “I’ll go distract them and slow them down. You guys keep going, I’ll catch up,” and slowed his horse. “Levi!” (y/n) screamed, but he was already far behind them, heading to the opposite direction. “There’s no way he can stopped them on his own!” a member of her squad called out, “we need to go help him!” She hesitated, features twisted in a way they never have before. The kind and tender girl was gone. “I’ll go,” she announced, “you guys go on full speed to the meeting place. Don’t send reinforcements back to help us. I want to minimize the casualties. We’ll meet up with you in an hour, and if we don’t…” she swallowed, “continue following Erwin’s orders,” and before anyone could protest, she turned her horse and followed Levi’s trail. When she almost caught up to him, she called his name. His expression when he turned to see her was the most she had ever seen on his face. It was of shock and disappointment. “Why are you here?” he screamed above the sound of sprinting horses. “For you!” she shouted back. His expression became more intense, “are you insane?!” he roared, much unlike the indifferent soldier she had grown to know and love. “No,” she replied, “but you are!” The exchange was interrupted by the thumping of the two giant’s footsteps. The titans were less than a mile away and the Corporal and her soldier prepared their maneuver gear. They both knew these were unfavourable circumstances. Two soldiers, no matter how skilled, simply could not take down two 15 meter abnormal titans in a flat area with no trees. He only wanted to buy time for the rest of the team to escape, and she wanted to be there with him because she didn’t want to be the one left behind. And she wasn’t. He was. Levi had always been skilled. He took out the first titan with considerable ease. When (y/n) latched on to the second titan’s left shoulder with her gear, it grabbed the wire with its right arm, yanking her off her horse. Abnormal titans were always hard to deal with, but she reacted quickly and bounced off of its arm. Giving it a second try, she swung around to the backside, attempting to slash its nape, but the titan still had a grip on her wire, which it pulled. The force took her by surprise, and she found herself hanging by one wire as the titan lifted her to its mouth. The humid wind gushing out from its mouth became a sign of the end. At some point she heard Levi cry out for her, but her eyes were closed shut. The titan opened its jaws and lowered her into it, and behind her shut lids she could sense the light fading form the world. The adrenaline never ceased, so when its jaws closed, she did not feel pain. She felt herself free falling. Then something – someone – caught her. When she dared to open her eyes she was in Levi’s arms as he rushed toward the abandoned horses. The titans behind them were on the ground with smoke evaporating from their limp bodies. Her eyes focused on his visage, and there was blood. Everywhere. She panicked. “Are you –” her lips were dry and her voice raspy, “are you bleeding?” They had reached the horses by then, and he lifted her up first before getting on himself, still cradling her in his arms. He rode the horse at full speed before sparing her a glance. On his face she saw the most amount of sadness she had ever seen on him. Like a child, helpless and defenceless. “It’s you,” his voice was raspier than hers, almost as if he was going to cry, “it’s your blood…” By then, the adrenaline had started to wear down. And as she examined her blood-stained body, she found, accompanied by an increasingly vivid pain, the absence of her left arm. She did not panic. “I’ll treat it,” Levi’s voice was urgent. His grip on the harness a little tighter than it should have been, and his lips quivered. “I’ll stop the blood as soon as we get to somewhere safe.” It was late in the afternoon. The sun had begun its retirement. She grew increasingly cold and attempted to draw herself closer to him. His usual scent was overwhelmed by the metallic smell of blood. In these last moments of amity, she struggled to find traces of the one she loved. They managed to reach the meeting place, where the other squadrons had already arrived. The rest of their team rushed forward upon seeing the blood covered Levi and the tiny ball curled up in his arms. She could only register selected chunks of time at this point. “Get a medic!” someone had screamed. She felt Levi’s warmth leave her as she was lowered to the ground. Levi watched her half-hooded eyes flutter open and shut. Her expression changed with her varying states of consciousness. The medic roughly wrapped the stub that was her arm. Blood immediately soaked through the bandages. “That’s all we can do right now,” the medic turned to him, “the blood should stop soon. If there’s no delay, we can get back inside the walls before it’s too late.” “It will be too late,” his jaw was clenched, “isn’t there something we can do now? She won’t make it to the walls!” his voice made the young medic shutter, a deep roar that held more emotion than he was ever able to express to her. “Our medicine cart was lost with one of the squadrons that got attacked,” the medic became defensive, “she will make it to the walls, she won’t lose that much blood that quick!” Levi took a sharp inhale of air. A pounding doom finally lowered onto his shoulders. When he spoke, he found his words shaking and barely audible, the moisture finally overturning his vision, “she’s anemic…it’ll be too late”. This became their turning point. He lowered his head and let out all the demons he guarded with his stone-cold features. Tears rained down like an April shower. For a second, in his blurred vision of her fading existence, he saw the complete truth of this world, the cold relentless cycle of death. Somewhere, a longing was born into this god forsaken world, never to be answered never to be fulfilled. He cursed again and again under his breath that they were all damned and cursed and how he wished his heart were stone. This rage was only interrupted when he felt a cold hand placed on his. When he opened his eyes as more tears poured out, she was there. For a second, he thought everything was going to be okay, but when she signaled for him to lean in, and her words were barely fathomed into a full breath, he was reminded that this was all real. “Don’t give up okay?” she breathed into his ear, “you can’t give up. I won’t let you.” “How?” his voice was a mess of out of tune sounds, “You all leave one after another, I don’t even have anything to give up on.” “You do,” she said, exhausting laboured breaths in between words, “yourself.” His eyes rained harder. He suddenly couldn’t even remember why he forced his composure for all this time. What would have happened if he didn’t run off and break formation? What would have happened if he took her orders? She had a way with words. In the end, it was she who saved his life “Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” In his early days of service, Levi was consumed by the death of his two friends. He was nowhere the calm and rational man the Survey Corps had known him to be today. It took a Corporal with an obsession with tea, one who had a way with words, to make a soldier out of him. She filled the gaping hole in his chest with little pieces of amity but decided to take one with her before she completed him in the end. When he took over her job, he lived up to her title. He cleaned his office more often than necessary. He became cool and level headed and learned to take orders. He had a soft spot that was compassion for his comrades and utter disgust for impulsive decisions and sacrifice. All in the name of carrying forth the legacy of her earl grey tea.

[airanke]

🐱, 👗 or 💪 For Svadilfari and Adaline, Another idea is 🐕 or 💃 for Ollwen and Trigon~ Because I am an enabler and I can~✨

🐱 Hold my muse after a nightmareSvadilfari / Adaline

He wasn’t sure what had awoken him, but Svadilfari squinted at the ceiling above him. To be frank, Sval wasn’t even sure if he was awake-

Next to him, Adaline twisted sharply. He turned his head to look at her immediately, single eye unable to see her clearly yet. The necromancer might be able to see in the dark, but that didn’t mean that his eye didn’t need a moment to adjust after he woke up.

For a moment he entertained the idea of calling softly to her - then decided against it when she started muttering in a language he didn’t understand. Addie’s tone was distressed. Sval pushed himself up on his arms, keeping his gaze on her, muscles tense.

The moment she bolted upright, a scream tearing through her lungs, Sval put himself into her line of sight. Adaline gasped for air, eyes unseeing, and Svadilfari set a hand on her shoulder. She released a shuddered sob, her eyes blinking rapidly. Sval moved his hand from her shoulder to her cheek. Her eyes shifted to him.

And then he moved his hand to cover her ear while raising his other hand to do the same over the other ear. He made sure she held his patient gaze.

Finally, after Adaline had gotten her bearings, she rested her hands over both of his. He gave her no words; they weren’t what she needed right now.

She just needed to know that he was there.

Other prompt under the cut cuz it ran away with me!!

💃 Pull my muse onto a dance floor/up to danceOllwen / Trigon

“Stop fussing.”

Ollwen flushed, fingers caught in her hair. She pouted at Jhordis while she tried to untangle her fingers from her white locks.

“But it’s an important gathering… I can’t not be fussing!”

“It’s not exactly a gathering, Ollwen,” Jhordis mused. The mage’s pout deepened, and Jhordis snorted out a laugh, “you know, you’re just as cute as Flynn says you are.”

“DON’T TALK ABOUT HIM!!” Ollwen yelped, face reddening - then she yanked her hands out of her hair, the blush spreading to her ears and neck, “wait. He said I was cute?”

Jhordis shrugged, a knowing smile pulling at her lips, and strode out of the room. Ollwen was left to hurry after her, hiking up the skirt of her powdery blue dress so she could walk more easily. Jhordis was wearing a black cocktail dress with a slit up one leg, of course. She was a rogue in and out of her armor, though Ollwen was surprised the other night elf had shown up in Boralus.

After all, Jhordis had made it rather clear that she didn’t care for anything the Alliance stood for.

Perhaps the golden jewellery and various red stones inlaid into said golden jewellery was a good enough hint as to which side Jhordis had chosen to throw her lot in with.

Sighing, Ollwen resorted to blinking to catch up to the older woman. Jhordis inclined her head in acknowledgement.

“How… are you here?” she asked, having no other way to word the question. Jhrodis chuckled , tucking some hair behind her ear.

“I am a champion of Azeroth. I served without complaint against the Legion. I’m here at King Anduin’s request.”

“King Anduin.”

“Yes - I will give respect where it is required, and he has garnered my respect more than any of the other so-called leaders of the Alliance.”

Ollwen was silent, and Jhordis sighed, nudging the other night elf.

“You shouldn’t be so afraid of sharing your thoughts, Ollwen,” Jhordis whispered. Ollwen looked away, hugging herself. The rogue sighed again, and Ollwen could only assume she had shaken her head too.

Truth be told, coming to the gala turned Ollwen into a nervous wreck - and she supposed that was the word she had been looking for when she said ‘gathering’.

It wasn’t just because many other important Alliance figures would be there, but because some possible allies from Ether were going to be.

As it turned out, while the Alliance, and the Horde were busy fighting each other, Magni Bronzebeard had grown tired of waiting for their conjoined efforts to do something about the massive sword sticking out of Azeroth’s side. He’d gone to Ulduar for the intended purpose of sending Algalon into the cosmos to find anyone willing to help with Azeroth’s plight.

A resounding reply had been sent back in the form of a man referred to as the Champion of Time. Ollwen knew little more about it apart from that, but she’d heard the rumors. This Champion had seemed adamant about letting Azeroth’s denizens suffer on their own, but his colleagues had put it to a vote. The rumors further implied that this man had only lost by one vote, and thus, King Anduin had called for a gala, sending invitations to all the Alliance leaders, and - to everyone’s surprise - calling for a temporary ceasefire.

Interestingly, Sylvanas agreed to the terms, and Ollwen wondered if it was because the Horde had a similar situation going on.

“Welcome!”

She raised her head at the voice - a burly Kul Tiran man eagerly ushering people into one of the largest buildings in Boralus. He shook hands with everyone, grinned as they went by, and when Jhordis and Ollwen reached him his eyes lit up with recognition.

“Ahh, miss Nightspirit, I’ve heard many a tale about you.”

“But of course,” Jhordis replied, though Ollwen could see the dangerous flicker in her eyes, “I received King Anduin’s invitation, so here I am.”

“Not going ta cause trouble, eh?”

“No, of course not, this is a formal event!” Jhordis waved her hand dismissively and the man released a boisterous laugh. He shook Jhordis’ hand firmly, and took Ollwen’s next.

He set his other hand overtop of hers of course, the gesture as warm as the smile that crossed his features, “lady Summerscribe! We really can’t get Flynn to shut his gab about ya!”

Ollwen flushed as Jhordis’ laughed, “oh, well, he can be quite the blabbermouth when he gets drunk.”

“We can’t get him to shut his gab regardless,” and there was a twinkle in the man’s eye that had Ollwen quickly averting her gaze.

“Hope you two enjoy your evening, now!” he called as the two walked inside. Ollwen made a beeline to the punch table, having spotted Flynn at the alcohol.

“A sweet man.”

“Yes, very.”

“Nervous, are we?” Jhordis purred, mouth by Ollwen’s ear. The young mage nodded, and Jhordis giggled, “well, I’ll get us some punch. Looks like some Alliance mages are getting a portal set up for our guests.”

Ollwen nodded absently, folding her arms loosely over her stomach. No one knew exactly who was coming, but to say that lack of knowledge wasn’t making her nervous was an understatement.

Anyone could come through that portal.

Anyone.

She was soon distracted by idle conversation with Jhordis. The rogue had been rather busy in Zandalar, it seemed, though she refused to confide what exactly it was that she was doing. Ollwen didn’t blame her - this was the last place the rogue would want to let it slip that maybe she was being a double-agent for the Horde.

Ollwen quickly changed the topic of conversation to her own adventures in Stormsong Valley when some other heroes of the Alliance got too curious for her comfort. There was little she could do if Jhordis decided to defend herself, of course, the rogue far outranked her in terms of power and skill.

An hour into the gala finally found Ollwen feeling a familiar shiver run down her spine.

The portal had been stabilized.

A loud voice announced the soon arrival of their guests from Ether, and Ollwen shrunk back a little when Anduin, Genn, and Jaina strode forward to meet with those that would soon be stepping through.

First was a large… moose-man. Ollwen stared at him with wide eyes, and many around her whispered harshly under their breath. She personally noted that he was dressed regally, in golds, whites, and - perhaps most importantly - purples. An intricately embroidered sash was wrapped around his chest, and beautiful jewellery hung from his impressive antlers, which also appeared to cradle bits of the night sky in their broad dips. His black hair was braided and pulled back into a high-tail, his muscular arms covered in tattoos as intricate as the embroidery in his sash, and his tan skin was only slightly lighter than the deep brown of his moose parts.

He bowed cordially to Anduin, who returned the gesture, and then moved to the side.

Next walked in a woman who was obviously a harpy. She stood tall, her skin a pale peach that bled into snow white, pearly feathers that shimmered in the light of the lamps. Her eyes were a piercing red, even from this distance, and she wore a fanciful dress that bled from lilac to magenta to a deep, deep wine purple. She too bowed, but more rigidly, and even Ollwen could tell that she did not like the glares she was receiving. She too was bedazzled in jewellery, though notably there were feathers dyed in similar hues to her dress adorning her tightly wound hair.

She stepped to the side but did not hide from the eyes, and the third member of their group stepped through.

He was an orc, but unlike many orcs that Ollwen had seen in her life, he was slim of build, and lacking obvious muscle. His clothing was similar to his compatriots, though more dominantly brown with weavings of gold, and purple around the borders of the robe. He took a moment to straighten his robes, keeping his gaze fixed on Anduin, then pressed his palms together before bowing to Anduin almost identically to how some night elves would.

As Anduin returned the gesture he moved to the side, giving way to the next guest.

She was a tall elven woman, so closely colored to a blood elf that Ollwen might have mistaken her for one. The whisperings grew harsher, even as the woman delicately grasped her dress and dipped into a low curtsy. Unlike the others, however, this woman wore a silken white dress with golden details. What looked to be a chiffon material was over the top, like a light overcoat on the dress. It shimmered gold, and pink when the woman straightened.

“I’m noticing a theme here,” Jhordis whispered, “and it’s not just in the implications of their clothing choices.”

Ollwen could only nod her head as the tall elf stepped aside, giving way to the final guest.

Now, he stood out like a sore thumb. Dark skin, dark hair, and dark clothing. His, in fact, look reminiscent of armor. The intricate details were done with silver, not gold, and a cape appeared to be draped around his shoulders, covering one arm while leaving the other visible. From this distance, Ollwen could make out the shape of dark stripes on his face.

Unlike his companions, he only gave Anduin a curt nod - if it could even be called that. Anduin hesitantly bowed to him, and the troll, at least, respectfully dipped his head after that, crossing one arm over his chest.

“I’m moving closer,” Jhordis said, then grabbed Ollwen’s arm and dragged her forward. Ollwen stifled a yelp of surprise - the last thing she really wanted was to get closer, but Jhrodis’ grip was too strong to twist out of.

“Glad to have you all here this evening,” Anduin began after clearing his throat. He held a hand out to preemptively silence Genn, and stepped closer to his guests, “welcome to Boralus. I am Anduin Wrynn, king of Stormwind, high king of the Alliance.”

He gestured to Jaina, who was specifically avoiding eye contact with the troll, “this is lady Jaina Proudmoore, current lord admiral of Boralus, and to my right, Genn Greymane, the king of Gilneas.”

“Hmm,” the moose-man stepped closer, leaning down to get a closer look at Anduin, “my greetings to you, high king. I am Daydream at Night, heir to chief of the Dreaming Mists clan. Most call me by Night.”

Ollwen could see Anduin’s ears redden at the sound of chuckles, and Daydream at Night shook his grand head, “my people are a tauric race, not too different from Azeroth’s centaurs.”

“I’ve yet to see a centaur that… looks quite like you do,” Anduin said, his hands lifeless at his sides, “they, um… nevermind.”

Daydream at Night quirked a brow, but chose not to press Anduin. Instead, he shifted his large body to the side, offering a hand to the harpy, “I will let the others introduce themselves.

“Shailaja, hailing from de Quivering North,” the harpy hissed, though her voice was surprisingly pleasant. Certainly not a voice Ollwen expected to come out of a harpy, “de eldest of Mother’s daughters. Though, we were informed to introduce ourselves under terms that de Alliance would understand.”

Shailaja’s eyes narrowed, and she pointedly looked at a group of night elves to her left, “I am a princess, next in line to queen, and so I would hope that the Alliance will respect me as such.”

Her words earned a chuckle from the orc and Night, though Anduin’s ears furthered reddened.

Naturally, Shailaja tilted her head to the side, “it would seem your people have little respect for how their behavior reflects on you, high king.”

“That much is being made very clear,” Anduin said through clenched teeth. Ollwen chanced a glance up at Jhordis. The rogue looked giddy.

“I like her,” Jhordis mused, “she’s not afraid to speak her mind.”

“Unlike me?” Ollwen muttered as Shailaja moved to side to make way for the orc. Ollwen’s ears flicked as Shailaja began to speak to Night in a beautifully sing-song language.

“High king,” the orc greeted, bowing again, “Oda Silenthunder, prince to one of the many orcish clans that wander the hot deserts of Ether. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Pleased to meet you as well, Oda,” Anduin replied. Genn stepped forward now, standing at Anduin’s shoulder.

“I’ve noticed that the other two are not dressed the same as you and the other prince, and princess.”

“Hmm. You could say they are our bodyguards, but…” Oda glanced at the two remaining, and Ollwen waited eagerly to learn who they were, “well. I will let them introduce themselves. The advisor in particular is one who has nothing but respect from the royalties of Ether.”

“Divana Lightbringer,” the elven woman swept low in a bow again, “the King’s Coordinate, here on behalf of Za’hal Sasodon, the King of Mages. I am also present to soften the advisor’s sharp edges.”

“Wait then… that means…” Genn’s eyes turned to the troll. Everyone’s eyes did, though he was unperturbed by the attention.

“First o’ all, Shailaja. Speak common, or don’ speak. Ya bein’ rude.”

From what Ollwen had learned in these measly fifteen minutes, she had not expected the harpy princess to be so quick to fall silent. She clasped her hands together and shifted her gaze to the floor, looking exactly as a child caught red handed.

“An’ ya, I be de advisah. Wat of it?”

“Nothing, I just…” Genn coughed against the back of his hand, “nevermind. It was impolite to assume that you were not the advisor.”

The troll’s lips curled up at one side in disdain, but he introduced himself;

“Trigon, son o’ Matadox, royal advisah an’ strategist to de King o’ Mages,” an elbow from Divana earned her a growl, and through his teeth, Trigon added, “de King’s Wisdom.”

Ollwen noted that it would be unwise to call him by that title, if the way he said it with such loathing was anything to go by.

Anduin visibly relaxed once all of the introductions were over with. He clasped his hands together, “well! I’m grateful to have you here, please, help yourselves to the refreshments! And feel free to mingle, there are some things I need to attend to.”

He received a variety of replies, all affirmative, before the entire group dispersed. Daydream at Night made his way straight to the punch table with Shailaja perched on his back. Perhaps the harpy felt safer there.

Ollwen yelped when she was jerked in the direction of the punches by Jhordis.

“J-Jhordis!!” she squeaked, but could not pull out of the rogue’s hold. Jhordis pulled right up alongside the tauric prince, bowing low.

“Your highness.”

“Madam,” he returned the greeting, dipping his head, “a fine establishment, this is.”

“Oh yes! My name is Jhordis, and this is my date this evening, Ollwen,” Jhordis tugged Ollwen closer. The poor mage blushed, but bowed to Daydream at Night, before also turning to bow to Shailaja.

“A-ah yes, a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Hmm,” the harpy’s talons clicked against the floor as she hopped off. Ollwen picked up on a malicious presence in her shadow, but when the night elf made to focus on that feeling, it faded. Ollwen furrowed her brows, then found her chin being tilted up until she was looking into the brilliant ruby gaze of the harpy princess.

“You don’t seem like the others.”

For a moment, Ollwen was unsure of what to say - and unlike any other time, Jhordis did not take the reins. The mage breathed in deeply;

“My mother raised me to be kinder to those I don’t understand,” she finally said, watching as Shailaja tilted her head to the side curiously. Her hand drew away from Ollwen’s chin, and she accepted the punch that Daydream at Night offered her.

“I see. You should tell me more about… whatever kind of elf you are.”

“We are night elves,” Jhordis began, looking at her nails in disinterest, “a proud and noble race, though with any race that sticks its nose up to others in pride, we are prone to throwing a hissy fit when we’re brought down a peg.”

Ollwen’s ears flicked, something that Daydream at Night didn’t miss, “you seem unhappy with this explanation, Ollwen?”

She flushed in embarrassment, “uh! I… it’s true. We are a proud race. We have often looked down on others, especially those from the Horde, for being more savage than us.”

“Is that why Jhordis wears their colors?”

“I’m surprised you noticed,” Jhordis mused, her voice low. Shailaja shrugged.

“We were offered a choice. One of my younger sisters was sent to the Horde, while I chose to come to de Alliance. Daydream at Night too chose to come to de Alliance–…” she stopped herself, then sighed, “what I am trying to say, is that we are familiar with de colors of de flags. De Horde is red and black, Alliance gold and blue. Your dress is black, gems red, while jewellery is gold. I would say that you are subtly leaning toward more Horde colors than Alliance.”

Jhordis turned to Ollwen, “she’s sharp. I like her.”

Perhaps the most harpy thing that Shailaja had done that evening was cackle. Music drifted from one corner of the room, and the harpy princess downed the rest of her punch.

“A dance, Jhordis, I demand one.”

“Oh, she is a demanding princess,” Jhordis beamed, and while it would not be a noticeable gesture to those unfamiliar with night elven eyes, Ollwen was not oblivious to how her companion looked Shailaja up and down in appreciation. She took the princess’ hand, blew a kiss to Ollwen, and practically pranced to the dance floor with Shailaja.

Ollwen looked up at Daydream at Night in enough distress to entice a chuckle out of the man.

“I’m… I’m really not sure what to call you, your highness.”

“Centaur is appropriate. While I do not possess horse parts, my people still fall under the umbrella of centaur. Sometimes, one must know when to make things easier for others,” he gave her a smile, carefully maneuvering his large body away from the punch table, “your friend Jhordis is very outgoing.”

Ollwen’s expression fell, “she likes anyone who points out the flaws in the Alliance as a whole.”

“Interesting.”

“What… is your opinion on the Alliance and Horde? Do you think there’s a point to it?”

Daydream at Night fell quiet in contemplation, and Ollwen nervously began inspecting her hands. As his silence extended, she found herself looking around the room. Oda Silenthunder was - shockingly - in conversation with none other than Genn Greymane. They both held champagne glasses, and from what Ollwen could observe, the conversation was civil. Some members of the famed Wolfpack ambled closer as well, and she couldn’t suppress a giggle at Oda’s alarmed expression upon seeing them in their worgen forms.

From there, it appeared to escalate into a full blown investigation, with Genn holding both his glass and Oda’s, while the orcish prince circled the members of the Wolfpack with furrowed brows, and expressive hands.

“Where we come from, creatures like those are killed on sight.”

Ollwen did not mean to gasp in surprise, but Daydream at Night smiled kindly at her, “we were forewarned by the King of Mages that on Azeroth, there is a race of people that can shift freely between human and wolf-man. What are they referred to as?”

“Worgen, your highness.”

“Worgen,” he nodded, “though, that was not the question you asked me. I do not think there is anything wrong with factions, as a general term. There are many factions on Ether as well, so they are not a bad thing. Sometimes, it makes it easier to determine who can be called on in times of need, and who cannot.

“Furthermore, it is not as if Ether does not have it’s problems with war - we do. But, perhaps on a smaller scale. Our problems are rarely within our united forces, but when they are, the King of Mages is quickly called upon to intervene.”

“So… a lot of the goings on in Ether depends heavily on the King of Mages?” Ollwen inquired, and Daydream at Night nodded. She frowned, “but… what do you think of the Alliance and Horde?”

He laughed - then grew serious, “in the case of the Horde and Alliance, the faction war seems petty - however, do not misunderstand. Unlike Shailaja, I was aware that you were a night elf, and we have heard about what was done to your home - those of us that went to the King of Mages for a crash course regarding the going ons of Azeroth.”

The centaur set a large hand against Ollwen’s shoulders, his expression soft, “you have my condolences. War is a vile thing, and it consumes much in its desire for blood.”

Ollwen pressed her lips together, choosing to simply nod her head. Daydream at Night continued, “we also learned that the Alliance retaliated by attacking the Undercity.This was the first mistake.”

“Mistake?”

“Violence begets violence; hatred begets hatred. The cycle only stops when one of you chooses forgiveness over vengeance - but that is not easy, and to expect that of anyone in such situations is abhorrent at best,” he frowned, “forgive me, I am not the best with words.”

Ollwen shook her head, offering him a smile, “oh no! You’re doing very well in that regard, your highness. I… will admit that when Teldrassil was burned, I was angrier with my own faction than I was with the Horde. The Alliance responded very slowly to our plea for assistance. I barely made it out alive myself.”

“Understandable. It is not uncommon for rage to be directed at allies rather than at the attackers. But I digress. If the Horde and Alliance are looking for peace, they will not find it in destroying each other. Eternal peace is impossible; there is always conflict. Trigon could explain it far better than I.”

“I will take your word for that - but, speaking of Trigon,” Ollwen spent a moment trying to locate the troll, but found only Divana, who was busy flitting around from group to group conversing with everyone she saw, “he seems to command a respect from others, one that I haven’t seen come from a non-royal before.”

“Trigon boasts aptitude in many areas. Despite his foul language and sharp tongue, he is a favorite amongst all the royals that have pledged their allegiance to the King of Mages. He is not afraid to bring us down a peg when it is needed, and he is not afraid to come to blows if it is required. Sometimes, this sort of aggression is required, and he has it in spades,” the centaur paused to take another sip of his punch, “furthermore, he was not given the title of advisor simply for his sharp tongue. He has unmatched cunning, and his strategies rarely fail. His intelligence is cause for admiration, and his talent as an assassin warrants praise.”

Ollwen couldn’t resist looking for the troll again, and was slowly growing frustrated that she could not locate him, “I doubt that none of this praise gets to his head.”

“Oh, fret not, it does. He has a boastful ego, and a stubborn pride. Thankfully, he is as flawed as the next, and his old military squad has some of the best stories about him from his younger days. And, it is proper to mention, that he is more aware of his ego than anyone else, and while he is serious in demeanor, he is prone to making jokes,” the centaur’s ears flicked, “your high king approaches.”

Naturally, Ollwen stepped back. She bowed politely to Anduin, and perhaps greeted him more coldly than she intended to, “high king.”

She could hear the distress in his voice, “Archmage Ollwen. I’m glad you could make it this evening.”

“I am glad to be here,” she replied, holding onto her smile as best she could, “it would appear as though you would like to speak with the prince?”

“Ah, yes… but you are welcome to stay,” he sounded hopeful. She shook her head.

“It’s quite alright, your majesty, I will leave you to your conversation,” she bowed again, “it was a pleasure speaking with you, Daydream at Night. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

She could sense the centaur’s confusion as she walked away, and Anduin’s dismay, but Ollwen set her sights on the alcohol. Flynn had wandered away, and as she poured herself a glass of wine, she once again sought out the elusive Trigon. Again, she could not find him.

The evening dragged on.

Shailaja had been dancing nonstop since she got up, and had roped Anduin into dancing with her. Daydream at Night was rather popular with the worgen, and while he was nervous in their presence, he seemed pleased that they followed him wherever he went. Oda had moved from conversing with Genn to conversing with Jaina, and shortly after, Divana had joined in. It made sense, Ollwen supposed, with all three of them being mages.

Still, Trigon made himself scarce, and Ollwen mulled him over in her thoughts. He’d caught her attention now that he had made himself practically invisible, though every now and then she was distracted by the presence of malice in the shadows of those visiting from Ether.

‘I suppose he must have been off talking to Jaina. She had disappeared for a while too…’ Ollwen sighed, tipping her empty glass from side to side. Like Shailaja, Jhordis was busy dancing with anyone who wanted her.

The shadows before her shifted, and she furrowed her brows - then tipped back in her chair when none other than Trigon himself rose out of the shadows. His gaze was intense, eyes a fierce orange in hue. Ollwen could only stare at him in shock.

Wordlessly, he tucked one arm behind his back, and offered her his other hand. The slight bow was gentlemanly.

Ollwen tentatively set her pale hand in his, and she noted that unlike most trolls she had seen, he had five fingers; a hand much like hers. Trigon pulled her into a quick tango, and though it wasn’t a dance she was familiar with, his lead was like a dream to follow.

He knew the steps, and clearly put his training to use given the sheer amount of times he narrowly avoided bumping into anyone else. She must have been effortless for him to lift, because Trigon hardly looked like he was straining himself when he gripped her by the waist and raised her into the air.

Not a second after she was back on her feet did Trigon pull her back into spins and twirls, and before she knew it, Ollwen was being spun away from him, released from his iron grip. He bowed to her once again, and Ollwen curtsied - and then, he was gone, disappeared back into the shadows before the mage was given a chance to ask him anything.

She had to laugh a little when she realized that Trigon had spun her right off the dance floor.

“He knew you were looking for him.”

Ollwen stiffened at the voice, but turned to Jaina regardless, “and how would you know that, Jaina?”

The human mage looked askance, “I was with him. We had a lot of catching up to do. I met him a long time ago, back when I was still an apprentice,” she laughed solemnly, “he isn’t very impressed with how things are here, but… he didn’t seem to hold much against me for my decisions and lack thereof.”

“He must be quite a catch, then,” Ollwen mused, analyzing Jaina’s response. She faintly flushed, and Ollwen shook her head, “he’s keeping to himself then?”

“He has an incredibly sharp tongue. Trigon doesn’t normally wear his intentions on his sleeves, but he told me he was worried that his brashness would cause more problems than fix. He’s avoiding Genn like the plague.”

“I’m surprised Prince Oda got along so well with him.”

“Prince Oda is agreeable,” Jaina pointed out, “and they’re not here to cause trouble. If anything, we’re the ones who want to get on their good sides but… I think the Horde has a higher chance of that than we do.”

“I wonder why,” Ollwen said flatly.

Jaina couldn’t hold her gaze.

(( //LIES DOWN I ALSO DON’T KNOW WHAT CANON I’M GOING WITH FOR THE OLLWEN AND TRIGON THING, BUT WE’LL GO WITH THAT IT’S AU AND THAT THE HORDE DID NOT INTENTIONALLY BURN DOWN TELDRASSIL BECAUSE THAT’S THE ONLY WAY IT MAKES SENSE??? YEAH. ))

[sleepychai-fics]

Pirate!Lance x Mermaid!Reader - The Beginning of Our Adventure

Request: Anon: Can you write a reader- inserts story on pirate AU with Voltron characters? Lance as a pirate and his s/o as a mermaid. She gets caught in the net and gets hurt due to the net cutting her tail and arms. Please make the story fluffy and romance! Thank you very much!

here you go!

I hope you enjoy it!

sorry it took a while to post

Tag List:

@fanderrawr​​ @dontcallmecedge​​ @thecinnabitch​​

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Words: 1710

I weave in and out between rocks and seaweed, my tail swishing at a desperate speed. My gills inhaling and exhaling water in exhaustion.

I spot an opening between a valley of rocks and immediately rush towards it. A smile begins to stretch across my face as I near the exit.

I swim faster, already dreaming of a happy escape. But that dream shatters as pain explodes throughout my body.

I scream in agony as a net wraps around me causing me to slam into the rocks. It doesn’t take me long to realise small spikes poking through the nets roping, sinking into my skin.

My screaming continues as I thrash around, trying to get free from the net but only making it worse as the spikes cling more onto me, scratching and cutting away at me, blood blending in with the surrounding water.

I feel my body being yanked up, the spikes further digging into my skin. I fight uselessly against the net, trying to gain some sort of freedom from it.

I gasp as I’m quickly pulled above water, the gills on my neck closing automatically. Water and blood drip off of my body and into the water below.

I look below with a weak and mournful expression, believing it may be the last time I see it as unfamiliar hands grip my tail and use it to harshly pull me onto a ship and toss me carelessly onto the floor.

I grunt and let out a quiet sob. I lay there, lifeless and stare up at the foreign faces.

Two men stare at me with wide-eyed shock. One has a black trench coat and matching knee high boots with one arm being some sort of mechanical prosthetic. The other adorns a red bandana on his head, wearing a grey shirt and black pants with similar boots to the other one.

I can faintly hear their voices.

“Oh shit.”

“That’s not a fish.”

More hands from behind start removing the net from me, some-what careful of my body.

I hear more gasps from me, as well as others around me, but fail to recognise who made them as exhaustion slowly pulls me in.

Before I lose consciousness, I feel my body get carefully torn away from the net and secured in a set of arms.

When I wake, it’s a combination of light and dark. It doesn’t take me long to realise that I’m in warm water. It doesn’t worry me, until I notice it isn’t sea water.

Blurs of colour invade my vision as I slowly open my eyes. Even without focusing, I can tell I’m in a tub of some sort. Dark walls rise up a good arms-length before a barrier of light ends it. In the light, I see blobs of blue, white and faint bits of red with a tan patch above it. On the horizon of the light, I see movements of white and orange.

I lay there, still and alert. Waiting for any movement.

I stare at the figure closest to me, matching as its’ hand slowly reaches out to me, making ripples in the water as it enters.

In a split second, and with a strong flick of my tail, I shoot back, completely startling the figures nearby.

I grunt in pain as my head crashes brutally against a wall. I bite back a scream as pain explodes throughout my tail. I breathe in the pain, trying hard to ignore it as the figures begin to crowd around me.

I lift myself out of the water, despite the raging pain in my arms, and sit myself up on a window sill.

My vision clears almost instantly and I quickly recognise the black trench coat and the red bandana. I hear frantic voices as if they’re in a panic, but I ignore them, my own panic too high to register words.

I pull myself back, my back connecting to the window. My breaths come out shaky and strained. I slap my hand on the window, attempting to shatter or break it in some way, but to no avail.

I return my gaze to the unidentified figures, tears spilling freely from my eyes. I focus solely on the trench coat man who has his hands up in front of him as if acting with caution.

When he speaks, it’s less frantic then before, more calm and slow.

“We’re not going to hurt you. We just want to help you.”

I stop still, letting the pain catch up with my tail. My breathing comes in shallow and goes out fast, my chest heaving along painfully.

I finally decide to look around the room at all the figures. There are five different figures, including the two I’ve seen before.

One has long, white and wavy hair tied neatly into a ponytail. A pink coat adorns her white shirt and matching white pants. She has dark skin and bright features including two small markings under her eyes.

The one standing next to her wears a similar coat except or orange and buttoned up. His white pants contrast with his dark grey boots.

Another two are set off to the side, further away from everybody. They both adorn similar outfits, with white baggy shirts and light grey baggy pants being held by different coloured belts, one being green and the other being yellow. They also wear matching black boots. The taller of the two wears a yellow bandana strip – different style to the red bandana person – allowing a few strands to peek out of the bandana. The shorter one has a cap on a tilt, their ruffled hair sticking out from the cap.

Then there’s the tan figure, the one who tried to reach out to me. His white shirt is baggy at the arms whilst his blue buttoned up vest hugs his torso. His slightly off-white bootleg pants capes over his black boots. His brown hair compliments his blue eyes.

But there’s something different about him. Water drenches his entire body, dripping from his hair, face and arms. But that’s not the only liquid on his body. Blood clearly stains his arms and chest, almost enough to make it seemed like he’s been completely splashed with it.

I make eye contact with him, much longer than anyone else. Something sparks in me when I gaze into his blue eyes. It calms me and allows me to focus more on my situation.

When he speaks, his soft voice almost completely relaxes me.

“We didn’t mean to scare you. Nor did we mean to hurt you.”

I furrow my brows in confusion at his last statement.

“H-Hurt me?” Although my voice is weak and feeble, they manage to hear me.

The girl with the white ponytail steps up and I stare at her as she speaks.

“We mistook you for a fish. A large one in fact. We captured you, unknown to your actual species, with our spike net which we use for typically big fish.”

My eyes grow wide during her speech and they didn’t go unnoticed.

“We figured that the least we could do was bandage you up.” The man in the black trench coat says.

I look down my body, finally noticing the large bandage wrapping around my tail, slowly being covered in red spots. My arms are almost in a similar condition. I flinch as a hand touches my shoulder. My eyes trail up the hand and focus on the soft gaze of the blue vested boy. I seem that it’s the blue vested boy.

“Don’t worry. We’ll help you get back on your feet- TAIL! Get back on your tail! That makes no sense whatsoever.” He corrects himself and I can’t help but let out an airy giggle.

Our gazes meet once again, and the same feeling of content returns. We smile softly to each other, this time a different warm feeling spreads over me.

~ A few weeks later ~

I weave between coral and seaweed, narrowly missing them with expertise. I spin a few times, enjoying the moment before making a sharp turn upwards.

I flap my tail back and forth, gaining more speed every passing second. I see the gleaming surface approach which influences me to go faster.

I shoot out of the water, gaining metres of air in a second. I bend my body as my target comes in sight. I turn my body as momentum slowly dies down, threading myself through the hoop attached to the front end of the ship. As soon as my body passes through the hoop, I dive back into the water with talented ease. I circle around the ship in ecstatic before resurfacing near a small life boat.

I smile up at lance as he practically beams at me from the life boat.

“You did it!” He cheers.

“I did it!” I echo to him, doing a small backflip. “I could never have done it without you.” I say to him as I swim closer to the life boat, floating in front of Lance.

Lance leans towards me, faces only a few inches away. “That was all you! I could never have taught you anything like that!”

I giggle and lean up to him, placing a quick peck on his lips. “Thank you Lance. For everything.” I watch with amusement as his face burns a bright red.

He looks at me with dazed eyes before leaning down and capturing my lips in a long and hard kiss.

I lose myself in the sensation, wrapping my arms around his neck. I feel his hands cup my cheek, holding it gently as if I’m porcelain.

When we part, it’s like a swarm of butterfly’s flutter from my lips, leaving them with a tingly feeling.

I instantly loose myself in Lance’s blue eyes. I watch them as they sparkle from the suns’ reflection off the water.

“That…That was amazing.” He whispers enough for me to hear.

I giggle at his statement and place a peck on his nose. “I could say the same thing.”

We lean on each other’s forehead and lose ourselves in the other’s gaze.

Words didn’t have to be exchanged, as our thoughts were enough explanation; Our adventure has only just begun.