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blackswaneuroparedux · 1 year

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Treat Your S(h)elf: Gates of Fire by Steven Pressfield (1998)

At Thermopylae, a rocky mountain pass in northern Greece, the feared and admired Spartan soldiers stood three hundred strong. Theirs was a suicide mission, to hold the pass against the invading millions of the mighty Persian army.

Day after bloody day they withstood the terrible onslaught, buying time for the Greeks to rally their forces. Born into a cult of spiritual courage, physical endurance, and unmatched battle skill, the Spartans would be remembered for the greatest military stand in history–one that would not end until the rocks were awash with blood, leaving only one gravely injured Spartan squire to tell the tale….

- Steven Pressfield, Gates of Fire (1998)

This is one of my favourite books on war I’ve ever read. I took my dog-eared copy with me last year when I went with ex-military veterans friends to climb Olympus and hike around Greece. One of the places we stopped was Thermopylae - where you can still bathe in the hot springs as the ancient Spartans and Athenians did before their monumental battle with the Persians. The very recent death of the last king of Greece, King Constantine II of the Hellenes, made me think of my trip to Greece last year and of one of the books I read on that trip. I thought I might share some of my rambling thoughts I had written down at the time, and also since then, about the retelling of one historical turning point in our western civilisation that has now entered into myth.

In 1998 was the year Frank Miller’s iconic comic graphic novel 300 about the the Battle of Thermopylae – where a tiny Greek force led by 300 Spartans held out for three days against an immense Persian invasion in 480BC - was published to great critical acclaim. Zack Snyder highly stylised slick film version of Miller’s 300 defied audience and studio expectations when it stormed the box office with Spartan-like ferocity back in 2007. Its mix of ancient history, comic-book iconography and sound-bite dialogue immediately found its way into the verbal and visual lexicon of contemporary pop culture; but things could have been very different. In 1998 Miller’s publication overshadowed the publication of Steven Pressfield’s more conventional historical novel, Gates of Fire, took its name from the eponymous battlefield, Thermopylae (referred to in 300 as ‘the hot gates’).

Pressfield, an ex-Marine soldier, had worked as a screenwriter creating disposable action-movie scripts for the likes of Steven Seagal and Dolph Lundgren in the late 1980s and early 1990s before writing his first novel, The Legend of Bagger Vance, which was adapted into the Will Smith film of the same name. It too won critical acclaim and was a huge best seller. George Clooney’s film production company bought the rights and David Self (screenwriter of 13 Days and Road to Perdition) was brought in to adapt it. Bruce Willis was dying to be in it and iconic director Michael Mann signed on the direct it. Instead the film went into development hell before Snyder’s film stole a march on Mann’s version to come out first in 2007.

As a Classicist and ex-veteran I found Both Miller’s comic graphic novel and Snyder’s film a severe guilty pleasure. But I have to say I found reading Steven Pressfield’s brilliant novel deeply satisfying on many more levels.

The book I remember well as an American special forces chap I knew out in Afghanistan gave it to me to read because I was complaining I was fast running out of things to read between missions. I loved it.

Like a good officer I passed the book along to others in my corps - rank and file - and within a month or two it had been passed around a fair bit. It led to endless arguments about the Greeks and the Western way of war in and out of the cockpit with my brother/sister aviators and crew as well other officers and the men.

For the soldiers on the ground the book felt more visceral. As a fellow brother British infantry officer said the depictions of phalanx warfare raised his blood pressure at how well he and his men could relate. I never felt more Spartan than I did I sitting on my arse baking in the sun of Afghan red dust mornings. We all related to this story one way or another - the sand, sweat, blood, feelings of combat, and thoughts of mortality.

Most book reviewers loved the book. “Does for (Thermopylae) what Charles Frazier did for the Civil War in Cold Mountain’, enthused author Pat Conroy. The New York Times praised the book’s ‘feel of authenticity from beginning to end.’ Author Nelson DeMille admired the ‘mastery, authority and psychological insight.’ Sarah Broadhurst, in The Bookseller, particularly wanted to recommend the book to women: “ Although it has a male feel to it, it will appeal to both sexes, as my two readers and I can testify. In fact, it is a great example of the rebirth of the historical novel, which I am sure is on its way.” Where people quibbled, it was usually about the violence of some of the descriptions, or on small errors of fact. The Times called it ‘a story of blood, biffing and bonking, thigh deep in blood, terror-piss and entrails’ but acknowledged that ‘their heroism still makes the hairs at the back of the neck bristle’. The Times Literary Supplement sniped at Pressfield for confusing two different Greek cities called Argos, and for what it called ‘phallocentric discourse’, but also called the book ‘a monument to the important twentieth-century art of pace.’

The novel stands out in the way it makes everything come alive from the soldiers' training, the scenes of actual battle, and most particularly the scenes after or between battles. The discussions of fear, and of how officers and soldiers should behave are particularly poignant and also felt very real to those of us who have experienced war first hand. What I found pleasantly surprising was how well written it was with its very strong portrayals of women as secondary characters. With nearly all military books women are often relegated to the background but here I found some of the strongest depictions of women in this genre. The women don't fight in the battles, yet are courageous and compassionate, intelligent and influential.

Many readers will be familiar with the broad strokes of the story of the battle. But it’s worth recapping here for those that don’t. In 480 BC, King Xerxes lead a Persian army of between one and two million into Greece. The Spartan King Leonidas lead 300 Knights and some 700 Thespaian allies to the narrow pass at Thermopylae, in order to hold the Persians back as long as possible. They proceeded to hold the pass for 7 days. These 300 Spartans died to a man defending the pass against a force of over a million and the epitaph provided to them by the poet Simonides, "Go tell the Spartans, stranger passing by, that here obedient to their laws we lie", is perhaps the most famous in history. Their example rallied and inspired all of Greece and eventually the Persians were defeated in the naval battle at Salamis and on land at Plataea.

The story is told from the point of view of its narrator Xeones of Astakos, a helot, a slave of the Spartans, and has his own conflicted feelings about Spartan society. He is taken, wounded, before Xerxes, and asked to explain “who were these foemen, who had taken with them to the house of the dead ten or, as some reports said, as many as twenty for every one of their own fallen?” In Xeones’ own words, therefore, we get the story of his life; from when his own city is destroyed, to when he comes to Sparta as a slave, to the time when he finally comes to stand beside the Spartiate in the fateful battle. As the sole survivor among the Spartans, Xerxes wishes Xeones to tell his story to the Persian court historian Gobartes. Xeones starts with the tale of how he came to Sparta. As a youth, his village of Astakos is destroyed and his family slaughtered, but he and the cousin he loves, Diomache, escape. As they wander the countryside, Diomache is raped by soldiers and Xeones is crucified after stealing a chicken, although Diomache saves him from death. Thrown into despair, because his hands are so damaged that he can never wield a sword, Xeones heads off by himself to die. But he experiences a visitation from the Archer god Apollo Far Striker and realizes he can still wield a bow. When Diomache, who is also distraught after being violated by the soldiers, takes off, Xeones heads to Sparta where he hopes to join the army.

The middle section of the book, which is at a much slower pace, deals with his life in Sparta and the training techniques used by the Spartans to create what was one of the most formidable fighting forces the world has ever seen. Eventually he becomes the squire of one of the 300 knights who are chosen for Thermopylae.

The final section, on the battle itself, depicts wholesale slaughter accompanied by acts of ineffable courage. It also relates two of the great lines of all time. When Xerxes offers to spare the Spartans lives if they will surrender their arms, Leonidas is reputed to have snarled, "come and get them." And upon being told that the Persians have so many bowmen that the cloud of arrows would blot out the sun, one of the Spartans says, "good, then we'll have our battle in the shade."

Pressfield being an ex-Marine grunt himself gives a very convincing grunt’s-eye-view of the battle and of Spartan society to create a fantastically blood pumping engaging tale. Pressfield sets himself the task of explaining Spartan culture to us in all its glory, humour, brutality and philosophy. To do so, he draws on his personal experience as a US infantryman, as well being strongly versed in Classics. The result is a fascinating tale, on one level a war story written with great pace and excitement, on another a ruminative tale of man’s capacity for honour, heroism, and self-sacrifice.

As a Classicist (since confirmed by Pressfield in many interviews) he makes excellent use of the ancient historical sources (such as they are). The most useful sources seem to be Herodotus first, his pages about the battle. Plutarch’s Lives of various Spartans — Lycurgus, Agesilaus, Lysander, etc - can be discerned strongly as the section of his Moralia called Sayings of the Spartans and Sayings of the Spartan Women. Xenophon of course was the best contemporaneous eyewitness to real Spartan society. Constitution of the Lacedaemonians, the Cyropaedia and even the Anabasis greatly help Pressfield pepper history with authentic detail. Diodorus’ version of the battle added the thought of the night raid (which The 300 Spartans also had) and Pressfield takes that from him. Pressfield has said that he didn’t consult recent archaeology, other than going to Sparta myself and checking out the ruins of Artemis, Orthia and so forth.

But still huge gaps remained. This is where Pressfield the ex-Marine and the well educated novelist come together. There was much detail that he needed to consciously to make up and make it sound plausible and even true. For instance, the concept of phobologia, the Science of Fear. That’s completely invented, yet Pressfield, as a Marine veteran, absolutely felt certain the Spartans, like every other warrior race, must have had something like that, a religious-philosophical doctrine of warfare understanding the principles of their culture, probably a sort of cult-like initiatory situation.

Pressfield in one interview admitted that the speech that Alexandros recites holding his shield — “This is my shield, I bear it before me into battle, etc.” — was a fictional invention based upon his own experience in the US Marine Corps, where Marines recite, “This is my rifle. There are many other like it, but this one is mine, etc.” Another huge fictional detail that he made central to the story was the prominence of the squire in hoplite battle. Again he based this on pure instinct and common sense. He thought the relationship must be much like that of a professional golfer to his caddie. Pressfield firms believes that the bonds formed between man and batman in the course of bloody warfare must have been intimate on a level second only to husband and wife, and maybe more intimate. The ancient sources make nothing of this, because they just passed it over as obvious, but I fully agree with Pressman. It’s an inspired insight. The fact that squires and armour bearers voluntarily stayed to die at Thermopylae says volumes. (Also a squire was the perfect fly-on-the-wall narrator, like Midshipman Byam in Mutiny on the Bounty.) Further I could not imagine that squires would stand idly by, watching their men fight. They must have served as auxiliaries, not only dashing in and out of the field evacuating the wounded, but getting in their blows as light infantrymen whenever they could. I suspect that, as prominent as Pressfield made their roles in Gates, if we could beam ourselves back and witness actual ancient battle, the part of the squire/auxiliary was even bigger than one might imagine.

The book then is not merely about the immortal stand at Thermopylae but delves into the Spartan lifestyle, how they achieved such military cohesion, how they viewed themselves and the world, what made them willing to march off to a suicide mission — it’s one thing to find oneself in such a situation, it’s quite another to jockey to be chosen for it, to know days ahead of time that this is it, you’re heading to your death and to do it unflinchingly. It’s about what binds men together in a group — what makes them willing to die for others. I think Dienekes’ thoughtful analysis of fear and how the opposite of fear isn’t bravery but love, tells it all. Love of a messmate, a family, a city.

Indeed as Pressfield shows the spartans would carry their shields on the left side of their body which allowed them to cover the blind spot of the warrior fighting next to them. Commanders would arrange it so that family members and friends were placed next to each other within the formation. The belief was that warriors would be less likely to abandon their comrades if they were fighting next to someone they deeply cared about. Love conquers fear.

Now the story isn’t perfect, there are some pacing issues when the plot seems to go extra slow, and there are time jumps that can feel a bit awkward. Some periods of our main protagonist’s life, that would be interesting, are just skipped.

In my opinion, the book balances fiction and facts quite nicely, not making the Spartans some over the top super heroes, like the movie “300” did.

The thing that I liked the most is the whole theme of the book: honour, the duty to your city and people, and the strength of the mind. The Spartans didn’t see war as a fun way of killing people, it was an inevitable fact of life. They didn’t kill fear, they learned to embrace it, keep it locked until the very last moment.

Now it’s a bit harder to judge characters in a book like this because some of them are based on real people and some of them are fictional. But what I will say is that these people feel real, grounded to the situation they are in.

I was very taken by the portrayal of Leonidas, the Spartan king who commanded at Thermopylae. One of the most stirring speeches in the book is addressed to Xerxes, the King of Persia, and contrasts Xerxes with Leonidas: "I will tell His Majesty what a king is. A king does not abide within his tent while his men bleed and die upon the field. A king does not dine while his men go hungry, nor sleep when they stand at watch upon the wall. A king does not command his men's loyalty through fear nor purchase it with gold; he earns their love by the sweat of his back and the pains he endures for their sake….”

I also appreciated the inclusion of the women of Sparta — no shirkers themselves. They would be the first ones out shaming the men into doing their duty for their city (and that’s what it was all about for these people — the survival of the city first) if that was what was needed. I have to say I shed a tear when Leonidas confessed his criteria for selection of the 300. So much is said about Spartan men but the women kicked ass in a time and place where women were almost never seen and certainly never heard from. The first female Olympic champion was a Spartan princess called Kynisca, in 392 BC. She was also the first woman to become a champion horse trainer when her horses and chariot competed and won in the Ancient Olympic Games. Twice.

Arete is in some ways the most powerful character in the book. She is very well written. She just popped forth, full-grown from the brow of Zeus. I liked her a lot. Whether or not Sparta was a “good” place for women I can’t say. Certainly it would be fascinating as hell to beam back there and see, for real, how they lived and what they were like. It seems likely Pressfield drew inspiration of Arete from Plutarch’s Sayings of the Spartan Women. These, if you’ve ever read them, are unbelievably hard-core. For example, here’s one: A messenger returns from a battle to inform a Spartan mother (Plutarch gives her name but I’ve forgotten it) that all five of her sons have just perished honourably fighting the enemy. She asks this only: “Were we victorious?” The courier replies yes. “Then I am happy,” says the mother and turns for home. Here’s another: A messenger returns from another battle to tell another mother that one of her sons has been killed, facing the enemy. “He is my son,” she says. Her other son, the messenger continues, is still alive but ran from the enemy. “He is not my son,” she replies. Pressfield doesn’t see Arete quite that hard-core but certainly someone tough as nails who imbibed the Spartan mythos even more than the men and lived it. Pressfield admits in one of his interviews that this was all instinct, he could be wrong, but itt just was what felt right to him.

Before I had gone through Sandhurst after university I didn’t really condone crude language or lewd humour but it’s one of the ways that my stint in the army and especially out on a battlefield deployment changed me a little. I confess that I loved the sometimes crude humour - they’re soldiers in a time of war and you do or say whatever will get you through. Battle (especially foxhole) humour has a dark gallows feel and it’s entirely acceptable and authentic - just ask any veteran of any war. The battle descriptions are graphic - very graphic but not much worse than what’s in the Iliad. And we are talking about a battle in which thousands died by sword, spear, arrow and other various messy methods.

I also enjoyed how the book has a pleasing prose aesthetic that imitates the style of Homer. For the non-Classicist it may take a little bit of getting used to and slow down their reading but it sounds melodious to the ear.

Overall Pressman gives us a pulsating story in which the characters are not either super evil villains that cartoonishly want to “take over the world” or superheroes that can’t make mistakes. The author doesn’t take a side in this story, war is war, and people are people. They make mistakes, get angry or jealous, they do bad things in the name of good and vice versa. The book is not about good and evil, it’s about how different people and cultures understand the order, stability, good and even our minds and dreams. The enemies here aren’t some sort of Oriental magic freaks from far away lands, they are just men made in flesh and blood. Sure wanting to control more land or have more people serving them, but that’s everyone I know in the history of rise and fall of civilisations.

Was the Spartan defence of the Hot Gates worth it?

Clearly, yes. Cultures, if not civilisations, are nearly always rubbing up against each other and even clashing where they can’t bridge differences. I think Pressfield has it right when he said, “What the defence meant to me was this: its significance was metaphorical rather than literal. We are all in a battle that will end with our deaths and, like the Spartans at Thermopylae, we know it. The question is how do we deal with it. They answered by being true to their calling, to their brothers and sisters, and to their ideals. Early in the book there’s a passage where the Persian historian is narrating; he’s speaking of King Xerxes and his interest in the fallen Spartans. Xerxes says of them: “He knew they feared death, as all men. By what philosophy did their minds embrace it?”

In two of my favourite passages, Pressfield has his protagonist explain why sacrifice is so beautiful to the Greeks (or to anyone who has honour), "In one way only have the gods permitted mortals to surpass them. Man may give that which the gods cannot, all he possesses, his life”. This is a very profoundly moving insight.

Pressfield goes further and tries to answer a much deeper question as to why men fight and perhaps this is where it’s the ex-Marine and not the novelist in Pressfield who is talking, "Forget country. Forget king. Forget wife and children and freedom. Forget every concept, however noble, that you imagine you fight for here today. Act for this alone: for the man who stands at your shoulder."

Amen to that.

At the end of the book, I would have probably stranded there fighting side by side with them against the Persians. Because at that point, they were my friends, comrades, and heroes. It was when I put the book down that I realised that I already had the humble privilege of serving with my fellow brother and sister officers and soldiers of whom all were comrades, many were friends, and a few were unspoken heroes.

Does the battle of Thermopylae provide any lessons to us?

That is harder to discern because it depends on what values we already hold dear. Sparta was a small, compact, basically tribal society where every citizen (forgetting about the helots for the time being) was vitally needed and where warfare was hand-to-hand and absolutely communal, with your own brothers, uncles, father and friends fighting beside you, so if you acted the coward, there was no hiding it. The modern world of anonymity, mass culture, commercialism, shamelessness, indulgence of sensual desires, worship of money couldn’t be farther. The Spartan society is like a culture from the moon.

On an individual and interior basis, I think, can we take lessons that might help us. Self-discipline, loyalty, grit, hard work, perseverance, honour, humility, respect, and compassion.

On a societal level Spartans were not selfish and didn’t worship the cult of individualism as we do today. It was all about the group. In our age when civil strife, economic hardship, and effects of a unrelenting pandemic erode our trust in our political and civil institutions and set neighbour against neighbour because of the political or religious beliefs they might hold, the only thing we have left to fall back on is just our individual selves. It’s every man for himself. The Spartans would balk at such selfish individualism. The strength (and ultimately the effectiveness) of the Spartan phalanx was encapsulated in the “next man up” approach. If a warrior was injured or killed on the outer edge of the formation, the next man behind them would step up and take their place. The integrity of the group’s formation was protected at all costs, because without the strength of the phalanx to protect them, each man on had little chance of surviving the battle on his own. In a real sense, they had each other’s backs. They had the cohesion of a collective spirit. They were in it for each other together.

It’s not a bad thing in this day and age to be a little bit “spartan,” don’t you think?

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mycological-mariner · 11 days

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You mentioned a play you wrote about Hannah Snell in one of your ask game replies; would you be willing to share a little more about the play? This sounds so cool!

Sorry for only just getting to this! You and @clove-pinks both asked about the Hannah Snell play so I shall tell about the Hannah Snell play.

So, while she was still trying to get her pension for her 5 years of service, Snell would go around performing in her marine uniform, telling audiences all about her time in the army and eventually navy, how she had to hide her sex, the trials and tribulations, etc. Now there’s no surviving transcription of any of these performances (not that I could find at least rip) so I thought it might be a fun opportunity to a) do a solo show which I’d never done and b) get to imagine what she might’ve said and how those performances would’ve gone!

Originally it was an 8 minute solo piece that I ended up extending into, uh. Not 8 minutes. I think it came around to about 30–45 minutes? With the extra time I got to play around with how much of the truth was being stretched, exaggerated or left out. I thought it might be fun for an audience to know something was up but being unable to verify one way or the other (kind of like now and anyone trying to pull apart myth and fact). Might’ve gone over. But then I had trouble with the venue and finding tech and stage crews and etc. I wasn’t going to be able to cover costs so I shelved it. Which was quite sad. However I’m still wanting to do it!

I think that, if I save enough and if I get the time, I’d like to bring it back. Though I’ve been wanting to rewrite it to include two or three other cast members. The idea this time is a mix of talking directly to the audience and telling them the Story Of Hannah Snell, Lady Tar and then cutting in with what might’ve been more likely to happen or parts of her story we know more about now that she might’ve left out altogether. The flogging scenes, for example. So, a bit more creative wiggle room. Never just making things up or anything but being honest to this part of history and the record she left. The ending will always make me rather sad though. I’ll say this much that stayed between all 3 iterations: while Snell might have just left her story with her eventual leaving and calling for public support for her pension, in reality she remarried twice and I believe she lost two more children in infancy (she had already lost one before the military), and her mental condition (it’s never stated WHAT mental condition) worsened so much that she was committed to Bethlem — THE Bedlam — where she would die in 1792 at age 69.

In the play, she drops the performance and speaks openly and honestly about how her life ended. About her legacy or lack thereof, and how so much of her story will always remain unknown or at least unverifiable through all of the sensationalism surrounding her in her life.

I’ve always been interested in the legacy of people contrasted with their just humanness. Like, Snell’s story is so much more story than fact. I like to keep the fact that all these people were just being people. And it’s especially true when a button seller finds herself the subject of a Narrative, fully deserving of the capital letter.

Thanks for asking, both of you!! Sorry if I rambled on a bit, the Hannah Snell Play is near and dear to me. Now if I could just get other people near and dear as well, we might be able to perform this thing lol

#thanks for the ask!

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psychewritesbs · 2 years

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Hi!! Hope you're doing okay. I haven't seen too many theories (not surprised) on the angel (jjk), so I was wondering if you had any theories or thoughts on what type of character she'll be like or what you think she may contribute to the narrative?

HOLA!

Oh my. Kurusu Hana (来栖華) crack theory time!

Prepare yourself to go down a million rabbit holes, from her physical appearance to her name and even her Cursed Technique, Hana is loaded with symbolism ripe for exploration.

Ok but honestly... let me just say that I have zero idea. But, given you came to me (mental gymnastics extraordinaire) with this question, I am taking the opportunity to explore her character.

The problem with her character is that there’s... what? a total of 2 or 3 panels showing her actual character in the whole manga? She’s also only mentioned 2 or 3 times outside of that.

So it’s really hard to say anything about her.

Kind of like with Sukuna, when trying to figure her out, we’re basically throwing darts in the dark. Except, at least with Sukuna we know that he is a daddy that he’s based on an actual Japanese myth.

That said, I shall do my best to give you my most ludicrous and completely not-based-on-canon speculative ideas about The Angel for you to marinate on.

Assistant Pu-kyu and I are on it.

After all, if there’s one thing I love, it is doing symbol analyses. If only I would have thought to write about symbology in anime/manga through grad school...

Anyways... Just a heads up that this essay got long. I’ve heard from others that my essay on Megumi’s character symbolism crashed a couple of phones (whoops, my bad guys!), so I hope this one doesn’t do the same 😅.

Actually, if you are not feeling like reading the entire ramble, I created a section near the very end titled TLDR; to summarize my thoughts on Hana. Feel free to skip ahead.

Finally, just like the essays about Sukuna and Megumi I’ve written before, this is not meant to make any concrete declarations about what is going to happen, but is rather an exploration of myth and symbology to try to maybe hopefully perhaps not really predict what her character might be about.

My best guess is that the place to start is with her cursed technique before I get into all of the details of her possible symbolism.

Cursed Technique, personality and physical appearance

Now, since in JJK the body = the soul = the mind, considering her physical appearance literally resembling that of an Angel, I kind of have to wonder about how her cursed technique fits into this.

I feel like this could be relevant because Cursed Technique seems to be intimately tied to the sorcerer’s personality and/or body.

Remi is a great example of this. To me Remi’s Cursed Technique or abilities are reflected in her hair’s shape (body) and how her personality is such that she will sting/back stab Megumi even when he’s protecting her (mind).

Not sure of her birthdate but I wouldn’t be surprised to find she’s a Scorpio.

So how does this relate to Hana? I have to wonder about her physical appearance since she very much literalizes the idea of an Angelic being (body).

But what about her personality (ego/mind)?

One of the characters that I can think of that has a similar ability to hers is Dazai from Bungou Stray Dogs.

Noa (my source of BSD knowledge) mentioned that Foydor (I probably misspelled his name) may be a better example since Hana’s Cursed Technique looks like it messes with the psyche, but I am going to stick to Dazai because his ability, literally, nullifies/extinguishes other abilities.

Unfortunately, I only got as far as chapter 40 and cannot comment on Dazai other than what I’ve read from other moots--his outward expression of a clownish personality is a mask for his existential despair... or something like that.

I’m not sure that Hana’s personality will be the same as Dazai... But perhaps, rather than looking at personality from such a narrow perspective, why not consider how Hana’s Cursed Technique is a metaphor for her sense of self?

Ego is, after all, not a one-dimensional concept limited to how a character thinks and behaves, but also includes the character’s meta-perspective of their sense of self in the JJK-scheme of things.

Now, the trope behind Dazai and Hana’s ability is called “power nullifier”, so we’re going to be diving deeper into the trope to try to understand Hana a little bit.

For one, consider the idea of binding vows. Binding vows in JJK can get a little complicated, so the way I understand JJK binding vows is by thinking of xxxHolic’s Ichihara Yuuko’s role as the Space Time Witch, or Alchemy in Full Metal Alchemist.

In both examples, anything we want comes at a price.

It is impossible to create something out of nothing. If one wishes to obtain something, something of equal value must be given. This is the law of equivalent exchange; the basis of all alchemy.

This idea makes me wonder whether Hana's ability comes at a price--i.e. she’s limited in other areas (raw physical strength perhaps) because all of her energy is focused on being able to extinguish Cursed Techniques.

An ability like this one is also one that affects other characters and their respective character arcs. As an example, consider how Hana extinguishing Megumi’s Cursed Technique temporarily can cause Megumi to have to find a new way to fight.

Second, Hana and Dazai’s ability is a meta-power. Meaning it is the power above all powers. Almost God-like if you want to think of it that way.

When you start talking about meta powers however, it opens a new can of worms--the origin of power.

I won’t get into it here, but I am really curious to explore the idea of Heian being the Golden Age of Cursed Techniques, and how that relates to the historical reality that Heian was truly a cultural Golden Age in Japan.

So how does Hana figure into the origin of Cursed Techniques?

Regardless of whether Hana had any role in it, I think it’s safe to say that Gege will explore the origins of Cursed Techniques in the story at one point or another and I’ll be looking forward to it.

Finally, from a narrative perspective, typically an ability like Hana’s can also be plot armor because it allows the author to make scenes unfold in a specific way.

While I wouldn’t be surprised to find examples of plot armor during a jjk re-read, I feel like Gege does a pretty good job executing on the plot in a way that feels exciting and refreshing for the most part. So here’s to hoping that he has a plan for Hana’s Cursed Technique that doesn’t feel forced and contrived.

Hana and the Prison Realm

Funny enough, when I looked into the “power nullifier” trope, this trope actually comes hand in hand with the “tailor made prison” trope.

The “tailor made prison” trope is commonly used to lock up a villainous character, although in JJK’s case, it was used to take out the one op character in the story who could potentially solve any problem that arises in the plot.

Such a prison will often even feature skeletons to imply that leaving this prison is impossible.

Not Gege using the trope almost at face value.

But why is Hana’s Cursed Technique the only one that can open the back of the prison realm?

I might need to go re-read mentions about the prison realm, but the way I see it, the prison realm nullifies Gojo’s abilities. So to claim that Hana can nullify the prison realm puts her character on a meta ability, God-like level--an idea I will explore later.

I have to say I am curious about Hana’s relationship to the prison realm.

Why can she open the back? Does it have anything to do with her own ability to extinguish Cursed Techniques? How is it that she can open the back of the prison realm?

I feel like the prison realm needs its own meta symbolical and mythological analysis and I feel like I’ve seen something about it on Twitter. But, to be honest, I feel like that’s a rabbit hole for another day.

Ok. So that’s that for her Cursed Technique.

Onto her symbolism starting with her name!

Kurusu Hana’s name

It goes without saying that Gege uses the “power of names trope”.

Not sure if this is what Gege is trying to say, but it looks to me like the way he names his characters is a call back to 90′s anime names like Dragon Ball Z’s Vegeta (vegetable) and Kakarot (carrot), or Sailor Moon’s Tsukino Usagi (Moon’s rabbit).

But I feel like Gege takes it a step further with his character names. Gege understands language semantics and he uses kanji characters to tell micro-stories about his characters and the context of the situation they find themselves in.

For example, when I looked into the symbolism of the white rose, lo and behold, it is a symbol used in the Tarot’s Death major arcana to announce death. Nobara anybody?

So, whether it is the meaning of the plant trio’s name, the play on words for “unwavering human”, or the choice of kanji when Sukuna says “fascinate/enchant me Fushiguro Megumi”, Gege is very purposeful in how he uses kanji characters when he writes.

When it comes to The Angel, whom I’m going to call Hana, her full name is made up of the following characters:

Her last name: Kurusu (来栖)

来 - kuru. To come. This is a character that you would see in a word like mirai which means “future” in English.

栖 - su. Used for the concepts: nest, rookery, hive, cobweb, and/or den.

Let me start by saying that there is always the possibility that this could be a perfectly common last name. As you will see in a bit, it’s actually the last name for a major character in Japanese history.

But it’s just as likely that the possibility exists that the last name holds some sort of symbolic meaning.

For one, I find it interesting that the kanji for the verb, to come (the kanji for the verb is used in words like future), is part of her name considering she’s a sorcerer from the past.

If we take the characters’ literal meaning into consideration, we also get an interesting play on words about a nest/den that is in the future or “to come”.

What could this mean? Your guess is as good as mine. Again, maybe it means absolutely nothing because...

After doing a quick search for the combination of both kanji characters together, turns out that the last name Kurusu is associated with Kurusu Saburu, a diplomat known for negotiating peaceful relations between Japan and the U.S. while Japan was secretly planning their attack on Pearl Harbor.

Historical technicalities about whether the US brought the attack upon themselves aside, Mr. Saburu’s behavior is still shady af if you ask me! To go around pretending to forge peaceful relations while fully knowing Japan had less than benign intentions... idk, it takes some serious guts to do something like that.

Again, could this mean anything? Did Gege intend to create a parallel to Mr. Saburu? Can’t know for sure. But I like this idea that Hana is not someone to be trusted.

She comes down from the sky with her cute little angel wings and her cute little halo and... no.

I don’t trust her.

There’s something that feels very sinister about her.

Her first name: Hana (華)

Next we have her first name.

I didn’t know this, but you can use two different kanji for the word flower, hana. The kanji you are most likely to see for the word “flower” is 花, but Hana’s name uses 華.

華 - hana. The literal meaning is splendor, flower, petal, shine, luster, ostentatious, showy, gay, gorgeous.

The kanji is used in different contextual uses. One of them is typically used when you want to say something is beautiful like a flower.

But there’s also something to be said about the kanji being used in words like Kegon Buddhism 華厳宗, avatamsa (flower adornment, as a metaphor for becoming a buddha) 華厳, or even North China 華北.

I’ll come back to these ideas related to Buddhism later. For now, let’s focus on the symbolism of the flower.

To me, the first thing that stands out about her first name is the idea that she is beautiful like a flower.

I’ve written about it before in the Megumi symbolism ramble, but, considering the plant trio is named after plants/flowers, what if Hana’s name is meant to represent the trumpet flower, otherwise known as the angel’s flower.

This flower comes with a warning and a very nasty reputation. For example, in South America, the angel’s flower is used for initiation, divination, and black magic rituals and is often used by “malevolent sorcerers.”

If you do a Google search for the angel’s flower, you will also quickly learn that this flower grows and is most fragrant in the night and in the shade. That’s already kind of interesting given Megumi’s symbolism and the shadow, and how Hana seems to be targeting Megumi.

We still don’t know why she switched colonies, but it’s kind of shady to me how she showed up at the right place, at the right time--Megumi collapsing from exhaustion in Tokyo Colony No. 1.

I wonder if it goes without saying that Hana could be familiar with the nature of Megumi’s Cursed Technique. After all, she is a sorcerer from the past and we don’t know how long the Zenin have been around as a clan.

My best guess is that the Zenin have been around for a while since long family lineages of spiritual warriors that extend into the distant past is a common trope in anime and manga.

But to continue with the exploration of the symbolism of the angel’s flower, these little flowers can be highly poisonous and some can even make you hallucinate--and, according to what I read, we’re not talking about pleasant hallucinations, but rather bad trips.

I don’t remember where but I read a take about how maybe Hana’s cursed technique causes hallucinations and that’s how she cancels cursed techniques. If Gege is using the symbolism of the angel’s flower, then this makes sense.

What is cool about this idea is that it is that it positions the Cursed Technique as more or less psychic or at least having the ability to control someone else’s mind.

This is what my moot noa was saying about her Cursed Technique resembling BSD’s Fyodor’s ability since it’s very psychological in nature. If this is the case, the implications are juicy af.

Imagine a character that can peer into your mind and use your deep subconscious against you.

Seriously. Hana is shady shady shady (pun fully intended).

We don’t know how much of all of this symbolism Gege will use, but what if Hana is meant to symbolize a girl who is very beautiful, she’s got Moon energy (all that shade she’s throwing) and she’s really dangerous despite her innocent looks (this facade of a Guardian Angel isn’t fooling me).

It’s almost like her beauty is the lure just the way the flower’s role is to attract pollinators.

So, according to the symbolism in her name, she’s bad news all around.

Actually... I am putting my money on a shady morally gray character.

Shady af. More about this idea in a bit.

Watch her turn out to be super friendly and super righteous, rip to my symbol analysis.

A Guardian Angel or a Fallen Angel?

The Guardian Angel

Right.

Here we go down the Angel rabbit hole.

When I saw Hana in this panel...

My good girl Catholic upbringing reminded me of this...

I just can’t get over the similarities between the panel and the painting above. Everything from the idea of a winged being coming down from the sky to protect the vulnerable from harm, to the way the body is positioned and how the arms are extended outwards screamed “Guardian Angel”.

It’s uncanny.

Now, a Guardian Angel is typically thought of as a benevolent protector. From an Alchemical perspective, I have also read that a Guardian Angel’s role is to help it’s protege to achieve their greatest potential.

But more importantly, symbolically-speaking, Angels are thought to be closer to God (however you define and relate to the supreme intelligence that underscores existence). Meaning, their consciousness is superior to human consciousness.

Perhaps Hana is on the same level as Sukuna and Gojo--a being with an overwhelming sense of self that has transcended their human ego. If that is the case, then we have to ask ourselves, is she a compassionate Bodhisattva like Gojo, or a being devoid of humanity like Sukuna?

My money is on her being inhuman as a result of her transcending ego/human attachments.

Angels as executors of God’s will

In addition, Angels can also symbolize messengers of God who carry out God’s will.

In my symbol analysis on Megumi I touch upon the possibility of Megumi facing some sort realization of a higher power which he did not acknowledge before. And while I still sort of stand behind this idea, I wonder whether, given the symbolism I just touched upon, Hana’s role could involve using Megumi to execute fate’s machinations, or God’s will.

The question is: who is God? Or whose will is she bidding?

I do have to admit that I am biased.

Perhaps my interpretation of the symbols has more to do with how this is something I would like to see in the narrative because of what it might mean for Megumi’s character arc and his growth.

So, as I always like to say, take what I write with a grain of salt and exercise that sexy brain of yours!

Back to the symbolism of the Angel, another angle to explore Hana’s role in the narrative is that of Judeo-Christian angels as the ones that announce the apocalypse.

And what is the apocalypse if not final judgment day for humanity?

Considering Hana carries a little trumpet and that we can hypothetically associate the trumpet/angel’s flower to her, I still have to wonder whether her role isn’t to bring and execute judgment.

Not sure what that will look like, but I do have to wonder about this idea considering Regiestar’s last words to Megumi:

Good vs. Evil

To tie in other approaches to the Angel as a symbol, Japanese Buddhism also uses the proverbial image of god-like beings that sit on your shoulder and record every good and evil deed you have committed.

According to what I read, the purpose of these angels is to keep record of your behavior in order to present it to the judges as your soul makes its way through the underworld. So again, Hana could be tied into this idea of a judgment-day.

Now, in Japanese Buddhism, these two god-like beings are known as Kushōjin. The deity standing on the left shoulder is male and he records our good actions, while on the right shoulder, stands a female who records our bad actions.

Could this be Hana?

In the West, this idea of angelic beings sitting on your shoulder is more along the lines of a battle of good vs. evil. In this perspective, each angel wants to persuade you to commit acts of good or evil depending on the angel.

After all, what is a devil (like Lucifer--the light bringer) if not a fallen angel who defied the Judeo-Christian God’s will?

You can think of God as a supreme intelligence beyond our human mind’s comprehension, but I also like the idea of God symbolizing the status quo in JJK--after all, in Judeo-Chrisianity, God is a dude/patriarchal figure and one of the themes underscoring JJK is tearing down the status quo.

You can also think of God as “the order of things” or a fate that needs to be overcome to achieve one’s destiny.

I go into more detail about fate and destiny in my Megumi symbol analysis if you’re interested in reading more into that.

To me, the idea of overcoming fate feels relevant to Hana and Megumi, but we won’t know what that looks like until Gege executes this idea.

I have also written before about how when I say “Dark Megumi,” I also want to make sure that people keep in mind that dark ≠ evil and that the idea that darkness = evil is Judeo-Christian at the core.

When it comes to Hana’s angelic status, however, I do have to say that light ≠ good.

Now. You may or may not have noticed that I mention Megumi and Hana together quite a bit. This is not only because Hana coming down from the sky over Megumi when he collapsed is sus, but also because I wonder if there was a connection between the a Ten Shadows user from the past and The Angel.

Kegon Buddhism--the Hana + Megumi connection

Ok this is strictly crack theory madness but I just couldn’t help but notice this little detail. Really it comes back to this idea that Hana seems to be targeting Megumi.

I mentioned earlier that the kanji for Hana’s first name (華) is also used in Kegon Buddhism (華厳宗) and avatamsa (華厳), which is a flower adornment that serves as a metaphor for becoming a buddha.

There’s meta about Buddhism lore in JJK that you can find around this hellsite or the other hellsite that I avoid like the plague, Reddit. So I won’t go too much into Buddhism because that’s a deep rabbit hole.

What I will say is that Kegon Buddhism is the Japanese transmission of the Huayan school of Chinese Buddhism, and that the name of the guy who popularized this school of Buddhism is a Japanese monk named Myōe (明惠).

Did you see that little kanji in his name? Does it look familiar?

惠?

Hint: One of the kanji’s phonetic spellings is, literally, Megumi.

Again, just wild speculation on my behalf.

But we already know that Gojo and Yuta have a common ancestor during the Heian era and even Uro might have been entangled in some sort of relationship with this ancestor as a Fujiwara clan assassin.

All that to say, what if there is a connection between one of Megumi’s ancestors and Hana?

Again, I may be biased here but, outside of the obvious “Hana can help get Gojo out of the prison realm,” I feel like Hana and Megumi are going to be inevitably entangled somehow.

Actually, come to think of it, I feel like my symbol analysis on Megumi was incomplete without also looking at Hana.

In the symbol analysis for Megumi, one of the things I touch upon is how the Ten Treasures that form the basis for the Ten Shadows Cursed Technique were historically-speaking a gift to the Imperial Family from the celestial maiden herself, Amaterasu.

Is Hana that celestial maiden? Again, given her cursed technique’s meta power, does she have anything to do with the origin of Cursed Technique?

Now, to go deeper down this crack theory rabbit hole, one of the chapters in the Avatamsaka Sutra, known to have been influential for Kegon Buddhism’s philosophical views of the cosmos, addresses the Ten Stages sutra.

Not sure if this sutra is related to the Ten Shadows Cursed Technique, but this sutra explores the ten stages of development a bodhisattva must undergo to attain supreme enlightenment.

I’ve already speculated that Megumi may be a character that joins the enlightenment ranks of Sukuna and Gojo. He’s certainly upleveling like a boss and is op without knowing it.

Who is Hana’s vessel?

Ok, to wrap this madness up... let’s address the pink elephant in the room.

Is Tsumiki Hana’s vessel?

To answer that I have to go on a little tangent.

Ancient sorcerers and their vessels

I could be wrong but I get this sense that the people chosen to become vessels for ancient sorcerers might be their descendants. After all, Kenny did confirm he carefully chose the people who became vessels for these sorcerers.

I just feel like there’s some sort of genetic lineage happening in order for the vessel to receive the cursed energy of another individual. Otherwise their bodies would not be able to withstand the cursed energy.

Given this detail, I thought it was interesting that the OG Ryu looks very similar to the one who Yuta fought.

It’s a bit of a stretch to make this assumption. But the likelihood of a distant relative looking similar is still plausible. So if you’re willing to suspend judgment for a moment...

Consider that either the cursed energy in the cursed object changes the shape of the vessel’s body through idle transfiguration, or these characters are descendants of the original sorcerer and that’s why they look similar.

Again, it comes back to the idea that ordinary humans would not be able to withstand a cursed object’s cursed energy.

So that brings us to the sequence of events in chapter 173.

Is this Tsumiki’s body?

I don’t know and I’m not convinced. The sequence of the events makes it look like it might be Tsumiki. She’s got the curled ends, the turtle neck sweater, and we even see that vision of Tsumiki.

But in the end, Tsumiki and Hana’s character design is different. Unlike with the Ryu example above, there is no physical resemblance between the two characters.

The logic is kind of flimsy and I’m not sure I’m explaining myself properly but... Gege is one of those mangaka who likes to mislead his audience. So for this reason alone I feel like Tsumiki is not Hana’s vessel.

The other major theory I’ve seen thrown around is that Yuko from chapter 64 is Hana’s vessel. I think the reason this is a theory is because Yuko’s physical appearance is similar to Hana’s (although Hana seems to be drawn with much thicker eyelashes and her hair style seems slightly different).

After all, the purpose of chapter 64 within the overall narrative is a bit of a mystery.

What other purpose does chapter 64 serve within the narrative other than showing Yuji’s depth of character? Is it to introduce Yuko into the story to foreshadow her re-appearance as Hana?

I guess we’ll find out.

TLDR;

Here are some of the theories and questions I came up with based on the symbolism:

In order to be able to extinguish Cursed Techniques, Hana has to pay a price. What is that price?

As a “power nullifier”, what is Hana’s relationship to the Prison Realm?

Was Hana involved with the origin of Cursed Techniques?

Hana could be a character who pretends to have benign intentions but is not to be trusted

Hana might be a sorcerer like Sukuna, someone who has transcended her ego and human attachments. Therefore, she could be someone who has no regard for others

Hana may be familiar with Megumi’s Cursed Technique because Hana may have met one of Megumi’s ancestors in the past

Hana’s cursed technique may involve causing hallucinations as a form of mind control in order to extinguish other’s cursed techniques—the implications of this are that she can use someone else’s subconscious mind against them

Hana may use Megumi to execute God’s will or fate’s machinations

Who is “God” in JJK?

Hana is a harbinger of judgment day, whatever that means

Depending on whether Hana is meant to symbolize a Guardian Angel or a Fallen Angel, Hana may be interested in either upholding the status quo for her own benefit (think of “God” and the JJK-scheme of things as the status quo), or challenging God like Lucifer did

Phew. That’s quite a lot.

Literal picture of me any time I write a character symbol analysis:

Now, the thing to keep in mind is that I mentioned a bunch of tropes and symbols, but Gege has a tendency to subvert expectations. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t use the symbol’s meaning, but rather, that he has his own unique way of exploring the symbol’s expression.

Tropes and symbols are everywhere if we care to stop and look.

I like to think of symbols and tropes as coloring books. You have an outline defining a structure, but the way you color what’s inside the line is always unique to you.

The idea behind my symbol analyses is that symbols are universal and interpreting them can give us clues about the content of a character, a character arc, or a story in general.

Anyways, thanks for the ask, anon! I really enjoyed researching this and I am curious about how Gege is going to flesh out the symbols and how the story is going to unfold.

Thanks for your patience while I answered your ask, but the Kurusu Hana rabbit hole just kept on getting deeper and deeper and I have been super busy with work lately.

Happy JJK-Sunday!

#a to the q!#god I love jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen meta #jjk meta #kurusu hana #jujutsu kaisen analysis #jjk analysis #jujutsu kaisen theory #jjk theory #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk spoilers #I swear these symbol analyses #always kick my arse #but I love doing them

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yeonban · 2 months

Text

Send me ✔ and I’ll bold what my muse would do with/for yours.

@halchron asked: ✔ for kenji / marin and aldous / eric :)

Marin & Kenji

Acquaintance:

Friendship:

Lover:

Married/dating:

Sibling/platonic:

Enemy:

Eric & Aldous (italicised is for what he would do if need be, but he'd either complain, scoff or roll his eyes the entire time as if it's psychological torture)

Acquaintance:

Friendship:

Lover:

Married/dating:

Sibling/platonic:

Enemy:

#muse: marin preda.#muse: eric blair.#halchron #The dichotomy here is surreal JUST LOOK AT HOW CUTE MARIN & KENJI ARE AND THEN AT /THOSE GUYS/ 😭

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fardell24b · 1 year

Text

An Aquatic Second Contact - Part 1

Lower Decks - An Aquatic Second Contact

USS Cerritos NCC 75567

“Captain’s Log Stardate 59063.3. The Cerritos has completed repairs after the Battle against Buenamigo’s Folly. We’re now on route to the Theta Aquarii System, home to a recently first contacted species, close to Klingon Space. We hope to get back into a routine of professionalism.”

Captain Carol Freeman reflected that she and her crew were lucky to have got out of the situation with the Aledo with the Cerritos more or less intact. She emerged onto the Bridge. “Time to system?” she asked.

“Two hours, 47 minutes,” Commander Ransom reported.

T’Lyn entered the conference room and saw that she was the first there. That was good. It meant that she had time to look over her notes again, and ensure that they were clear and concise. “Personal Log. Cerritos has entered the Theta Aquarii System, containing an M-Class Planet that may be considered the opposite of Vulcan as it’s surface is almost entirely covered in Ocean. The humanoids are…” She was interrupted as the door opened, admitting her colleague, D’Vana Tendi.

“T’Lyn!” Tendi called out. “This is exciting!” she added while throwing her hands about.

“That isn’t a word I would use,” T’Lyn retorted. “’Intriguing’ would be more appropriate.”

“I suppose you could say that. But I would say interesting and another Vulcan would say ‘fascinating’…”

T’Lyn rolled her eyes. Tendi’s rambling was, distracting, at the best of times. “You interrupted my log entry.”

“Oh, sorry. You can continue.”

She pressed resume on the PADD. “The humanoids are aquatic, resembling the Merfolk of ancient Human myths and legends. They live mostly in the water, with the various islands given over to what industry cannot be conducted under the waves. Upon arrival Cerritos will conduct the usual Second Contact procedures, while Ensign Tendi and I will assist with the addition of their biological knowledge of their planet, along with their astronomical knowledge of their system, to that of the Federation, as a basis point for future dual surveys.” She paused.

“Log complete.”

“That’s not all we’ll be doing,” Tendi said.

“Certainly not.”

D’Vana Tendi looked out of the window of the conference room and saw that Cerritos had dropped out of warp and was approaching Theta Aquarii II. She supposed that she needed to find out the most common local name for it, before anything else. She was certain she would learn it before too long.

“We’re being hailed by at least three different stations, Captain,” Lieutenant Shax reported.

“Find the one the Rhea contacted,” Captain Freeman ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Shax said. “Wait, there’s a Klingon Bird of Prey entering the system!”

“What!”

“They’re hailing,” Shax said.

“On Screen!” the captain ordered.

“This is Captain Ma’ah of the Klingon Ship Che’Ta, to the Federation Starship in this system. I request permission to come alongside.”

“This is Captain Carol Freeman, of the USS Cerritos, Permission granted.”

“Acknowledged, Che’Ta out.”

“Something’s certainly happening,” Commander Jack Ransom commented.

“I agree.” Freeman said.

“I have found the station, Captain,” Shax said.

“Good,” the Captain said. “Ensign Boimler! Prepare for docking.”

“Aye, Captain,” Ensign Bradward Boimler said.

IKS Che’Ta

Captain Ma’ah brought up the information on the planet on his PADD. It was certainly interesting that there was an almost entirely aquatic civilisation.

“The Cerritos has docked,” his first officer reported.

“Request docking clearance at the same station.”

“Yes, Captain.”

USS Cerritos

“The Che’ta has also docked,” Ensign Barnes reported.

“Inform Captain Ma’ah that I’ll meet him on the station.”

Ensign Beckett Mariner looked over the information on the PADD. The planet was certainly interesting, its history especially, but she was more concerned with the current situation, as she usually was during a second contact mission. Suddenly, as she turned a corner, she ran into someone. “Oh! Sorry,” she said.

“You!” It was Jennifer sh’Rayan, her ex-girlfriend. She was looking at her with hatred.

“Um, It was an accident,” Beckett dissembled.

“That’s not my point.”

“I know that. Now’s not the time,” she didn’t want to be late!

“It’s never the time is it?”

Beckett wasn’t sure what she was talking about. But she had to go, so she ran off.

Jennifer turned away after Beckett ran off. She didn’t know why she had got involved with her. She stopped the line of thought before it went further. She had already spent a lot of time and mental energy on it.

Captain Freeman and Commander Ransom approached the airlock, where Cerritos was docked to the station. Ransom checked his PADD again. “It says nothing about needing environmental suits on the station.”

“Well, they do have lungs as well as gills, so there is free air on the station.”

“I guess that on a world where everything swims, I would have thought that nothing would have lungs.”

“A quirk I guess,” the Captain said as the airlock door opened.

They stepped through and saw that there was a raft next to the airlock. In the water were two assistants. “Welcome to Eali Toromi Station. Please follow us,” they said in unison.

“Thank you,” Captain Freeman responded as she and her first officer boarded the raft.

Eali Toromi Station

Captain Ma’ah emerged from Che’ta onto the station. He saw an assistant waiting next to a raft. “Welcome to Eali Toromi Station. Please follow me.”

“In the raft?” he asked.

“You can swim if you want, but otherwise you’d have to use the raft,” the assistant said nervously.

Ma’ah sighed inwardly. Most other races were intimidated by Klingons. These ‘Acquarii’, as the Starfleet crew had dubbed them, were no exception.

“I can use the raft,” he said.

“Thank you,” the assistant said with a bowing motion and a splash with her tail fluke.

#beckett mariner #bradward boimler #carol freeeman #d'vana tendi #fanfic #jack ransom #jennifer sh'reyan #lieutenant shax #lower decks #ma'ah #star trek #t'lyn

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cockatrice-writers-guild · 2 years

Text

There’s Always Bigger Fish

Warnings: swearing, animal death, blood, an injury that’s somewhat detailed

Everything had been so great before it all went wrong.

He could still remember the scene vividly. It had been a wonderful day and he was out near the surface, a rare delight, swimming with his family. The sun shone through the water, creating patterns of light that danced over them all as they swam. He remembered finding the scene beautiful; his family members calling to one another playfully, some even jumping out of the water to show off to others. He had been tempted to join them but then he was content with just watching too.

It had been perfect.

And then he saw it. In the distance, a vessel. He heard the humans call it a ‘boat’ once. He wasn’t alarmed by this. He knew that humans sometimes liked coming out on the ocean to watch his family for awhile before moving on. He also knew the effect he happened to have on humans so he figured it would be best to stay out of their way until they left. He warned his family of the boat before moving just out of sight.

The boat approached as usual and stopped near his family as usual. But something was off. He didn’t know what at first but then it hit him. Usually, when the human’s boat was so close to them, he could hear their voices, joyous and excited and loud, travelling easily through the water. Voices that weren’t present now. Just a few low tones speaking solemnly to each other.

But then, almost as if to make up for the lack of noise, a bang sounded. Loud. Much louder than the usual excited voices of the humans.

And he caught a glimpse of something. Something that caught the rays of the sun as it flew. Shiny. Fast and true. Toward his family. And then

Red.

Eito Ichikawa loved his daughter. Really he did. She was smart and had done reasonably well in school considering how much time she spent who knows where doing who knows what. She was independent and could handle herself in most situations. She never went through much of a rebellious phase as a teenager, though she did eventually dye her hair. She did her chores without him asking her to most of the time and she never even got swept up in the dating craze he’d been dreading since the day she’d been born.

Or at least that’s what he thought. Now though, he had to reconsider. A few weeks ago, Machiko had been fired from her job as a marine biologist for constantly destroying equipment. And when he’d asked her about this, she’d said it had not been her fault at all, but that of ‘those damn fairies’.

Fairies.

Which brought up the other thing about his daughter. Though he loved her and she was the best kid a single father like him could ask for, even he had to admit that she was a bit…eccentric.

From a very young age, Machiko was stubbornly insistent about one thing and one thing only; that mythical creatures not only existed, but she saw them on a regular basis, a belief that she’d unfortunately carried well into her adulthood.

He had never really been sure how to deal with it. He tried humouring her at first, but it only seemed to frustrate her whenever a piece of evidence she wanted to show him ‘magically’ disappeared. Later, he tried correcting her, telling her that myths were just that. Myths. But that only seemed to strengthen her resolve. Eventually, he just grew indifferent to it, hoping one day she’d just grow out of it. That had evidently backfired, as Machiko was now 23 and still had a habit of rambling about creatures in longwinded conversations Eito could barely keep up with.

Sometimes he wondered if he had made the right choice. Machiko never seemed to have any friends, perfectly content with going out on her own for hours on end. Was he a bad father? He wasn’t sure. Machiko seemed to still like and respect him so surely he was doing something right. Right?

Returning to the point though, ever since Machiko had been fired from her job, she’d been spending way more time out of the house than usual, and that was disregarding the hours she already put into her new job. Sometimes, she even came back home smelling like she’d just stepped out the wrong end of a fish market.

Now, for better or worse, Machiko had always been, in her own way, painfully honest with him. But he couldn’t help but think she was hiding something from him. And naturally, his mind immediately went to the worst possibility: she was dating someone in secret.

Did she not trust him? Or was the person she was dating some no good punk that would drag his precious baby down the path of evil?

He had to find out for himself. Which was why when he was typing up an email to a client and heard footsteps make their way down the stairs, he couldn’t help but tense up.

“Dad? I’m going out,” a voice called from behind him. Machiko. No doubt on her way to go visit that no good-

“Going out? But it’s Saturday,” Eito replied nonchalantly. “I thought you get the weekends off?”

She regarded him passively. “I do, dad. I’m going to go hang out with Taro for the day. I’ll be back before dinner.” He swore she was testing him.

Eito tapped his fingers on the desk before turning his chair around to face her. “Remind me, please. Who is Taro again?” He asked tentatively.

Machiko put a hand on her hip, the other one already occupied with a tote bag. Her expression turned tired. “He’s a mermaid…merman? Well, I personally think he’s really more of an extremely rare subspecies of mer. I’ve never seen anything like him before and yadda yadda yadda.” She said all this in a surprisingly monotone voice, having already repeated more or less the same thing to him every time he asked. She made her way to the kitchen, pulling out a container of leftovers from the fridge. “Dad, we’ve already been over this. Several times. Can I please just go now?”

Don’t you even get tired of this? Eito wrung his hands nervously. “It’s just that…look, you know you don’t have to hide anything from me right? That I’ll always love you no matter what?”

“Oookay.” She stuffed the container into her tote bag along with some cutlery. “I’ll keep that in mind in case I murder someone, I guess.” Then she caught herself with a sigh. “…I appreciate the sentiment, though.”

Eito knew it was probably a bad idea to push any further. And yet…. “…it’s just that if, say hypothetically you’ve been hiding something from me this whole time, like say for example…dating someone without my knowledge or permission, I just wanted you to know that I wouldn’t get m-”

He stopped at the face Machiko pulled. ”You seriously think I’m dating Taro? Dad, I already told you I’m not into that kinda stuff. Plus, he’s a mer…folk? I’m not sure he even knows what dating is. …do mer…people date? I guess I could ask him later….” She mumbled that last part more to herself than to him as she made her way over to the door and slipped on some shoes. “I understand your concern, Dad, really I do. But thanks to your refusal to ‘encourage my delusions’ or whatever, you’re just going to have to trust me on this, okay? Have I ever lied to you?”

“That’s debatable,” Eito couldn’t help but mutter.

Machiko let out a dry laugh before opening the door. “I’ll see you at dinner, then.”

“Mm.”

And the door closed behind her.

Eito sighed, a small pang of guilt in his chest in anticipation of what he was about to do. He waited until her heard Machiko’s bike leave before pulling out his phone. If she wasn’t going to be honest with him, then he was going to have to uncover the truth for himself.

To his surprise, Machiko had seemed to stop at a beach. He thought for sure she’d go to someone’s house or even, God forbid, the red light district. He parked his car a little ways off from the area, to not alert her of his presence, before quietly making his way over by foot.

He supposed it made sense when he thought about it. A nice quiet lunch on the beach sounded like a perfect dating idea, if not a bit stereotypical. He just didn’t know why she chose this beach in particular. From what he’d seen on the drive over, it wasn’t a very pretty location. It was small and it’s dirty sand was covered in all manner of sharp rocks and other debris. It was also sandwiched between two mountains so he could only imagine what the lighting of such a place was like. From the pictures he’d seen, not that great.

But finally, after just a few minutes, Eito found the edge of his daughters destination. The pictures really hadn’t lied about the state of the place. If anything, they barely did justice to the true squalor of it. It was lined with a myriad of dead plants, which he quickly hid himself behind as he surveyed the dump. The sand near him was almost grey and littered with assorted driftwood, rocks and slimy old kelp. It was unsightly. It smelled of dead fish. The place just radiated non-life. Far from the ideal place to have a picnic, which was what Machiko appeared to be setting up, seemingly as close to the water as she could get. She appeared to be completely alone, which ruled out the possibility of gangs…hopefully.

It was almost a sorry sight to see and Eito felt a pang watching his daughter spread a blanket over a small patch of greyish sand that had appeared to have been cleared out only moments before. She was whistling an almost painfully happy tune as she worked, the song echoing loudly off the sheer cliffs on either side of her in the relative silence of the place. Her pink coat, an almost jarring splash of colour in the otherwise bleak landscape, blew gently in the breeze and when she turned, he caught a glimpse of a wide smile on her face.

He almost felt like intervening right there and then, leaving his hiding spot among the dead brambles and proclaiming how horrible a father he must have been, leaving his only daughter on her own for so long and asking if he could join her on the blanket.

But that would have to wait. What mattered right now was his daughter’s safety. Though, if someone did turn up and it did turn out to be one of those good for nothing types, Eito was going to kick their ass.

Ten minutes passed and Eito was starting to get a bit restless. Machiko had just about finished setting up the picnic and still not a single other person had shown up. Eito was conflicted on whether to feel rage, relief or sorrow. No one had shown up. Which could only mean one of two things; either the person was a no show and Eito would have no choice but to rain hellfire upon them if they ever got the opportunity to meet or Machiko had never been dating anyone to begin with. He didn’t really know which one he preferred, honestly. His heart felt heavy in his chest but before he could convince himself to reveal himself to her and pull her into the bearhug of the century, something happened.

Machiko, after getting back up and dusting some sand off her shorts, examined her picnic. She gave it a nod before turning her attention to the vast ocean that lay just a few feet from her blanket. She watched it in silence for a few seconds before cupping her hands over her mouth, taking a deep breath and then proceeding to yell at the top of her lungs, “TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.” Seemingly satisfied with that, his daughter took a seat on the blanket and started digging into her food.

Eito must have been a horrible father. Terrible. Maybe Chouko should have won custody of their daughter. Not him. Maybe then Machiko would have been happy. And not eating alone on a filthy beach and doing whatever strange ritual this was. He had failed his precious daughter.

He watched, now beyond heartbroken as Machiko continued eating, stopping every few minutes to yell that name into the dead, silent, unforgiving depths of the sea. He was nearly in tears now. He just wanted his little girl to be happy. Where had he gone wrong?

Wallowing as he was, Eito tried to tune out his daughter’s vain cries as he started to come up with a plan to get her life back on track. Chouko had already long since cut contact with him, so the rest of his daughter’s life rested solely in his incapable hands, after all. Eventually though, Eito was exposed to a single flaw in his plan. See, his daughter had been calling into the abyss for minutes on end now. But he hadn’t anticipated the slight chance that maybe, just maybe, the ocean might call back.

And so as he was going into the financial details of a fishing trip he could take Machiko on, since she seemed to like the ocean so much, and Machiko herself had just released yet another pointless scream into the water, Eito felt no less than his heart skipping a beat when, out of nowhere, a cry was returned.

Eito felt his skin pale. The cry had been loud. It had carried effortlessly over the quiet waves and over to Machiko, bouncing off the walls of the mountains just as his daughter’s song had only a few minutes prior. It had been high pitched and was far from human. It almost sounded like something resembling whale song in a way. But with an almost unearthly tone to it. And as the last of it finished echoing off the walls, Eito found himself too scared to even move.

Evidently, the call did not have the same effect on his daughter. She had been beaming before she stood up and turned towards the ocean. She even began waving both her arms at it. “TARO!” She sounded excited now. And that blood freezing call sounded again. Like it was responding to her.

And to make matters worse, Eito saw movement from the ocean. Far from the shore, though he couldn’t gauge how far, something surfaced. If he didn’t know any better, Eito would have almost mistaken the shape for a human head.

And then, almost as if to prove some kind of cosmic point to him, as the head shaped thing started approaching, Eito started to realize just how far away it must have been when it first surfaced.

Because that thing was massive.

It wasn’t even halfway to the beach yet and, as it revealed more of itself from the water, it was already starting to tower over Machiko. And the closer it got, the more of it he could see. What appeared to be a very human, if not gigantic, torso. Dark purple skin. Slimy black hair. Strange fin-like ears. Fangs so long they were sticking out of its mouth. But its eyes were by far the worst. An almost electric blue with slit black pupils. The whites of its eyes weren't even white. They were black. And both were fixed solely on his baby as it approached. His daughter. It was approaching his daughter. That realization alone was more than enough to override his fear. He could start making up for being a shitty father now. By saving her from the cold hands of this monster she’d somehow managed to attract the attention of. If he could just manage that then…maybe he wasn’t such a bad father after all.

Not even taking a moment to dwell on what he was about to do, Eito charged through the dead branches and sprinted for his daughter. The beast hadn’t reached the shore yet and hopefully it couldn’t follow them onto the land. His feet caught on branches as he ran. Tripped over rocks. His heart pounding and his legs beating into the dirt. The monster getting closer with each and every step. His gaze focused on his daughter and his daughter alone.

And he’d rather die than let her fall into the clutches of that monstrosity.

His approach evidently hadn’t been subtle because when he was just a few steps away, Machiko suddenly turned to him.

And a smile dropped from her face. “Wha- Dad?”

Eito figured she was probably in shock so he grabbed her by the hand and pulled, only to be met with resistance.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” She sounded confused, almost exasperated as she stood her ground. As the massive beast drew nearer and nearer.

He pulled a little harder but his daughter wouldn’t budge, stubborn as always. “Machiko, please. We have to get out of here! That…that thing is going to be here soon and-”

“Dad,” she interrupted, her voice even. “Calm down, okay? Look, I know what this looks like but please just trust me. Please.” She studied his face before pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand and letting out a huff. “Annnnnnnnd you’re terrified! Uh, why’d you have to pick today of all days to spy on me? I could have eased you into all of this but…” she dropped her hand with a sigh, “I guess now’s as good a time as any.”

Having said that, she turned back to the monster that was now looming over them both. Or at least, she tried to with Eito’s death grip still on her hand. A sharp panic started to overwhelm him as his eyes travelled up and up and up the wall of deep purple to see the monster’s eyes now fixed on him.

Eito found he was having a hard time breathing.

Machiko wasn’t safe. Not here.

“Okay.” Machiko began speaking nonchalantly, as if they weren’t seconds away from death. “So, Dad…this i-”

Not willing to take for granted the time the monster had wasted simply watching them, Eito cut Machiko off, pulling her away from the beast with a terrified new burst of strength and breaking into a run. Mercifully, he felt her tow along with him this time and ignored all her protests. He could get an earful of it later, when they were both safe.

But the sense of victory that had risen within him when he saw how close they were to the edge of the beach quickly diminished when, with a jolt, he heard Machiko cry out in pain. A cry that, just a few seconds later was easily drowned out by a new cry, one that was most definitely a roar; a hissing screech that was so loud Eito felt his bones rattle. Turning, he saw his daughter sprawled out on the ground. Tears in her eyes. And a chunk of rock now embedded in her leg. Blood was already starting to pool around the gash, trickling down the side of her calf and into the sand below.

Behind her, the monster had lowered its head to the ground, baring its fangs, its eyes looking furious. The scent of blood seemed to have excited the sick creature and the sight of it was beyond terrifying. As he watched, the monster reared up and slammed one of its clawed hands into the ground, shaking the earth and almost knocking him over before letting out another ear piercing shriek. Everything inside him was screaming to run. That they needed to get out of there now.

Machiko, having already wiped the tears out of her eyes, was simply watching the beast. “This isn’t going well,” was all she could say, her voice just as level as it had been before. Eito was now fully convinced that she probably couldn’t even begin to process what was happening. Which left it to him to save them both. Eito stepped forward and pulled her to her feet before she could do anything drastic. He slipped her arm over his shoulder and tried to walk forward only to be met with resistance yet again.

Thinking that maybe Machiko’s legs got caught on more debris, he turned and saw, to his absolute horror, that she was instead fully suspended in the air. Somehow, somehow, the beast had managed to grab hold of one of her legs. It was trying to take her from him.

Eito pulled with all his might, hands slick with sweat already starting to lose their grip on her. He dug his feet into the ground, tightened his grip and pulled even harder. Desperately. “LET GO OF HER!” was all he could think to yell at the creature in his hysteria. But he might as well have been yelling at a brick wall because, with a quick jerk of its hand, Machiko was cleanly pulled from his grasp, leaving her hanging upside down in the air, dangling like a ragdoll between two of the monsters fingers. This gave him the opportunity to get a good look at her face, which was somehow more perplexed than anything else, before the monster carried her upwards.

Eito watched, tears starting to well in his eyes, as the beast carried his baby up to its eyes and looked her over, probably examining its new prize. Eito found he was running out of options far too fast. Still, there was one thing he hadn’t tried yet. There was no guarantee it would work but…he sucked in a breath.

“Please,” he begged, all ferocity in his voice gone, hoping against hope that deep down the beast would have some shred of sympathy, “please, she’s my daughter. My daughter, do you hear me? She’s all I have. She…” An idea came to him and he balled his hands into fists. “T-take me instead. If it’s a human you want, then take me instead of her. Just please, please let her go.”

For a moment, the beast simply glared at him in silence as if conflicted and for a second, Eito felt just the faintest flicker of hope.

He slowly held out a hand, almost as if beckoning it. “Please.”

But as luck would have it, the monster simply let out another noise, this one long and low and guttural, almost like a warning, before turning sharply and diving back into the ocean. He could just make out his daughter’s voice as she quickly plummeted towards the water.

“WAITWAITWAIT! TA-”

And then the beast was gone, dragging his daughter down with it.

The boat had long since left after the display he’d put on, leaving him and his family alone yet again. But it was far too late by then. He had pulled out the shiny thing that had pierced one of his sisters but that had only served to increase the flow of red. He didn’t know what to do.

The rest of his family, now quiet, crowded around his…he wasn’t sure what the appendages were called. In them lay his sister. And though just a few minutes ago, she’d been alive and well, playing and chattering on and on just like the rest of them

She wasn’t moving anymore.

Machiko found herself pinned to the chest of a giant mer…just mer as he rocketed through the ocean so fast she had to wonder if it was possible to get underwater windburn. Her eyes were stinging. Her leg was screaming. Her lungs were crying. The previously mentioned mer’s heart was hammering against her, fast and hard in her ears. Overall, it was just kinda loud. And painful, of course.

…still by far not the worst experience she’d ever had.

Taro had been terrified back there on the beach. It had been easy enough for her to tell. The wide eyes. The way his pupils had narrowed to slits. The ears pressed against his head.

The tears.

Add to that the roaring and the stamping and the making himself look big and you had yourself a textbook threat display right there. Being on the receiving end of his aggression when he was usually so passive had been an…interesting experience to say the least. But while even she had to admit it had been impressive, she simply refused to be scared by someone she’d once witnessed follow a stray beach ball around for nearly two hours before accidentally inhaling it, effectively spooking him so bad she didn’t see him anywhere near the surface for the rest of the week.

Plus, the man was a sweetheart through and through. Even when he’d grabbed her, he’d been careful not to touch her injured leg. Which was why his behavior back there confused her. She’d never seen him get so worked up before. What had he been so afraid of?

And back to her current dilemma, she’d been hoping that once Taro had calmed down enough, he would remember that his passenger didn’t have gills and take them both up but as her head started to ache, she realized that unfortunately wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. She pounded on his chest, the only thing she could think to do to gain Taro’s attention in his panicked state. Luckily, he came to a stop a few seconds later and, upon seeing her pointing frantically to her nose, changed his course. They broke the surface and Machiko collapsed into his palm, taking in huge gulps of air and coughing.

Once she’d managed to compose herself just a bit more, she flipped onto her back and tried to assess her current situation. Good news first, obviously. First of all, somehow, even after all of that, her glasses were still on her face. And her jacket, which she’d left on the blanket back at the beach still had her phone tucked away safely, so that was fine too.

Next, neutral stuff. Well, by the looks of it, they were probably somewhere in the dead middle of the ocean. She had also been completely drenched. Had. She found that the constant blasts of hot air hitting her point blank were more than enough to almost completely dry her off in seconds.

Finally, bad news. For starters, that stupid rock was still in her leg. Her dad probably thought she’d just been kidnapped which…honestly fair on his part. And to add to all that, the source of the blasts of air hitting her at a near constant rate turned out to be Taro who, now that she was looking at him, appeared to be hyperventilating.

It was a sorry sight. His eyes, wide and swimming in tears and starting to glaze over, were locked on her. His mouth was partially hanging open. His ears were noticeably much droopier than they had been before. And every once in a while his breath hitched, causing his arm, and consequentially her, to jolt with the movement. Machiko felt a pang of sympathy just looking at him.

She had no idea what had upset him so much but she knew she had to do something. And while she wasn’t the best at comfort, she at least knew a thing or two about hyperventilating. She was pretty sure he needed to introduce more carbon dioxide into his system. Unfortunately, until they started making paper bags his size, she was going to have to improvise. Something big enough to cover both the nose and the mouth like…maybe a hand?

Except, he was carrying her which meant he only had one hand available. She put a hand over her own face and took a few experimental breaths. It would have to do.

“Taro!” she called up to him. Sure, he was already looking at her but he was also panicking and if this was going to work, she needed his full attention. A few calls and some frantic waving later, the mer’s brows creased just slightly. It was enough for her. “Taro! Do this!” She showed him what to do, demonstrating a few more times for good measure. Eventually, he got the message and brought a free hand up to his face as well before breathing into it as Machiko instructed him, timing his breaths with her calls until finally, his breathing returned to a relatively normal speed.

“You feelin’ any better?”

Taro closed his mouth and blinked. Then he nodded.

Machiko heaved a sigh of relief. Taro still looked like a wreak and a half but hopefully the worst of it was over. More than anything, the big guy just kinda looked like he needed a hug or something.

She managed to pull herself up and onto her feet, hissing in pain when she put weight on her injured leg. She was about to start walking towards him to attempt to give him said hug or something but stopped when out of nowhere, Taro let out a whine, leaned forward and gently pushed her over again with his nose.

“Taro.” She exclaimed, exasperated. She tried to get up again but quickly met with the same end. She shook her head at him. “Really man, what’s gotten into you lately? What’s wrong?”

The mer just watched her in silence. Machiko almost thought he wasn’t going to respond when his eyes flicked down just a bit. Surprised, Machiko followed his gaze.

Her leg. He was looking at her leg.

She pointed at the offending appendage questionably and Taro nodded before his breath hitched again.

“Oh,” was all she could think to say. All this over such a small injur…well now that she was looking at it, she could see that it wasn’t really all that small. The rock had cut quite a large gash into her calf. She figured it would be wise not to remove it for now. It was the only thing holding back the flow after all and she didn’t think bleeding out into Taro’s hand was the best move for either of them at the moment.

“…so,” she looked up to meet Taro’s eyes again, connecting the dots. “You tried to scare my dad off because…you thought he was hurting me?”

This time he cocked his head to the side and emitted song that ended on a high note, like he was asking a question.

“Which part confused you?”

Taro held up his free hand, his fingers folded so only the thumb and pinky were sticking up. Machiko counted the words of her previous sentence on her own fingers until she got to the sixth one.

“Dad?”

Taro nodded and Machiko made an educated guess.

“Yeah, that was my dad. He…I don’t know. I guess he followed me to the beach. He was rambling about dating or some-,” she paused, “…wait do you know what dating is?”

Taro blinked and shook his head.

Suck it, Dad. “Oooooh boy. Um…so…it’s kinda like…when…see, when people fall…fall in lo-” she frowned. “…actually I’ll get back to you on that. What were we talking about again…? Oh right, so anyway, he followed me to the beach and I guess when you showed up he freaked out or something. Tried to drag me away but, well you know what the place looks like. I could barely keep up with him and I wasn’t really looking where I was going and…yeah. Cracked my leg open like a damn watermelon.” She cringed a bit at the analogy. “And then you started freaking out and you scared the tits off my dad and you…,” she frowned, “…you really did all that because you thought I was in danger?”

Taro nodded.

Machiko was a bit conflicted. On one hand, the fact that Taro had gone apeshit just to get her out of what he thought was a life or death situation was downright heartwarming, honestly. He really cared about her. But on the other hand, she could only imagine what kind of hoops she’d have to jump through when they got back to convince her dad to let her keep seeing him. Or really just let her leave the house ever again.

Still, she smiled at him. “Thank you, Taro. I really really appreciate what you did back there but…it wasn’t my dad’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. It was just an accident, you know? He hadn’t meant to hurt me. It’s liiiiike…oh! Like that time you accidently destroyed my submarine! You hadn’t meant to do that either. Stuff just happens sometimes.” She paused. “…thanks for bringing me back to the shore that day, by the way.”

Taro let out a long, low song.

“Ah, don’t feel bad about that. That was on the fairies. But you get what I’m trying to say?”

He nodded but didn’t seem any less tense than before.

“The leg?”

He looked away.

Machiko sighed. Standing clearly wasn’t an option here but neither was not closing the distance between her and Taro. After some thought, she began dragging herself towards his looming face using her non injured leg and hands. This caught Taro’s attention and he watched her curiously until she reached the edge of his palm and dangled both legs over the side. Then, she beckoned for him.

He hesitated but, seeing that her injury was out of the way, eventually brought himself closer. As soon as his face was within reach, Machiko reached out and started stroking the bridge of his nose.

“Taro, I’ll be fine,” she murmured softly. “You don’t have to worry about me.” Then she smiled. “I mean come on! It’ll take more than some unwanted leg piercing to put Machiko Ichikawa out of commission!” She flexed one of her arms for effect. “A stupid rock is not going to do me in. I’m wayyyy tougher than that! ...so don’t worry about me, okay?”

Taro bumped into her affectionately and let out a short burst of high pitched song.

“Yeah see, that’s the spirit!” She wrapped both her arms around his nose and rubbed her cheek against it.

And as they stayed there, Taro eventually starting to purr from the physical contact, the actual severity of the situation slowly started to dawn on Machiko.

“…shit, what if he calls the cops or something?” she muttered, face still pressed to the now vibrating colossus. “And when he finds out this whole thing was just a huge misunderstanding…oooooh Dad’s gonna kill me.”

Taro let out another whine and pressed into her.

“It’s a figure of speech!”

Eito was a little overwhelmed, to say the least. Having just gone through the grief of losing his one and only daughter to forces far beyond his control or even his understanding, getting ridiculed by the very authorities he’d tried to ask for help, and then getting hit by the stark realization that he was now truly alone in this world, the scene that had unfolded before him was just too much.

For as he’d stood, frozen, the very monster that had heartlessly stolen his baby had returned from the depths, deposited his still alive and well daughter back onto the picnic blanket, emitted a long string of off-whale noises and was currently face down on the beach in front of him.

Machiko, alive and well, watched the scene calmly from her spot on the blanket. “Taro says he’s sorry for scaring the shit out of you,” she stated nonchalantly, digging into her half finished meal. “He’s being a little dramatic about it though.”

Eito Ichikawa, master of none, respected businessman and father of one, fainted.

#writeblr #original writing #original story #Machiko and Taro #ocs #the rooster crows

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nityarawal · 1 year

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11/3/22

"Snow

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We Three

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Trinity

Truth

Mothers Defense

What Kind Of Sister

Are You

Kamala Mamala

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A Quite Depressing

Life, She Said

"I Got Trafficked From

Indiana, All The Way

To California!"

She Tells Everyone

"You Might Need To See

A Dr." Her Public

Defender Told Her

"No- You Don't Want

To Do That Sam!"

She Said Firmly

Like a Mamma Elephant

Pin-Up Double D

Doin' It's Thing

Even In Jailhouse Blues

Ombre Hair Spun Up

Brown Roots 3 Inches

Grown Thru

She Had Lights In Her Eyes

Sometimes

"Laugh More!"

I Told Her

"Smile!"

You Can Have Anything

Child Of God

Just Wanted Me To

Sing

Said It Was

Like Jehovah

Coming Through

Holy Ghost

Not Everyone Can

Say That Word

Rabbi Aviva

Explained

It Was "Holy Ghost"

Snow Pronounced

When I Sang

Though She Didn't

Understand

"Om Namah Shiva"

"Sing Some More!

Soothe Me!"

She Begged

She Smiled

How Could I Say "No"

I Eased The Child

Mary Magdalena

Coming Off Crystal Meth

While She Slept

She Told Me Of Tunnels

In New York City

When She Awoke

About Her Tweens

How Could Any Women

Be Loved

So Much

Forgotten

Like Marilyn

Over 1000 Officers

Violated Her

She Was Trafficked

From Indiana

To California

Thought Nicholas Cage

Was Her Pappa

She Wrote Songs For

"Pink" About Family Life

Didn't Want

To Be Replaced

When She

Whistleblew On

Youngsters Getting

Raped

Molested

They Threw

Her In A Tunnel

With Millions Of

Naked

Moms

Kids

A Hollocoast

Replaced Her

Onto "Pink Number 2"

Just Wantin' Her Royalties

From Court

Silenced

Misunderstood

To Know What's

True

For Crystal Meth

Put Holes In Her Brain

Frontal Cortex

Swiss Cheese

Over Long Cold

Midwestern

Subzero

Indianapolis

Winters

Being Trafficked

Houseless

Snow

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal

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cryptidapprentice · 10 months

Text

i personally have such an immense need to see a production of Lizard Boy The Musical live at some point in my life

#marine myths rambles #lizard boy musical #i KNOW those harmonies would HIT live dear GOD #idk why the feeling took me over enough to want to post it /now/ but its here lol

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meowizard · 2 years

Note

consider this ask ur free pass to ramble ab something!!

OHHH GOSH its like- okay well its midday here but I've just woken up and the only thing i can think of in clarity is ocs so

so i made caviar a wife. sjksjdksdj i'm gonna try speedrun finishing her ref in a little nit bc talking abt her is gonna make me SO motivated again but ANYWAY she's a lighthouse keeper in the creme republic

(because i fucking love lighthouses i love them. it's becoming increasingly obvious i want to be a lighthouse keeper, or some kind of marine biologist- i hear there are a lot of benefits. the sea cookies never really appealed to me but i love how the fandom took one look and said. yeah. one big family. so i'm adding another one to the mix.)

she's based off rock, which i reckoned was cute because it's a traditional sorta seaside sweet, plus it has the stripes and is very, yknow, strong.. i its fitting

and then i was like...,. oh yeah, this decor exists. but that's okay because the lower city has a harbour too, and i can imagine they're not disciples of the divines, so they have a normal lighthouse. plus that titchy goddamp lightbulb aint doing anyone favours.

since rock isn't a sweet pastry or salty, she's an immigrant to the republic. she's a lady, in that she welcomes visitors with coffee and cakes even though she hates company. i also made the bottom floor home of the lighthouse look look look

there're myths about her being a ghost, she's so elusive and basically nocturnal. she's friends with sea fairy, and gives offerings to black pearl to stop her from attacking the republic, even though she's seen her only once.

she's married to caviar in the way they had a six-ish month relationship and now they hardly talk. he's with her whenever he's on land, but. it's complicated but healthy, let's put it that way.

game wise she's a super epic (because she deserves to be hashtag special), her gacha quote is "it's getting dark... time to get to work." and her role is defence.

here's a wip playlist i made 4 her :3c

#THANK YOU INDULGING ME TY SOO MUCH #but waaaaaa i feel like im so incomprehensible when it comes to this stuff #i'll make content for her at some point :P #ask tag #oc tag #rock candy tag

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anxiety-toga · 5 years

Note

🌸 gogogogogo

I adore mythology and all concepts of it! When I was in 3rd through 5th grade, I was totally obsessed and grew an addiction to the stories of creation. By 6th grade, I was a little myth nerd, i still am

#i was known as a myth worm cause I love to read too #welp #also your marine rambling? that was so cool! I didnt realize there was such a lot of octupi #ask #foxytiramisu

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bangtanloverboys · 2 years

Text

I posted 18,773 times in 2021

731 posts created (4%)

18042 posts reblogged (96%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 24.7 posts.

I added 1,307 tags in 2021

#dip rambles - 566 posts

#dip answers - 166 posts

#bts x reader - 132 posts

#dip friends - 118 posts

#icymi - 72 posts

#btsghostie - 59 posts

#jungkook x reader - 56 posts

#yoongi x reader - 49 posts

#wip update - 48 posts

#yoonkook x reader - 41 posts

My Top Posts in 2021

strawberries & cigarettes // kth

summary - being dragged out to some party on a saturday night wasn’t exactly your usual plans, but meeting a cute boy may or may not make it all better

pairing - bad boy!taehyung x nerd male!reader

genre - fluff; strangers to lovers au

word count - 3.7k

warnings - innacurate frat party, police showing up, references to smoking, kissing, gays moving at weird paces bc what do you expect they’re gay

author’s note - another gay fic for pride month hehehe, happy pride month yall!

See the full post

251 notes • Posted 2021-06-19 01:31:32 GMT

something sick & twisted (ii) // jjk

summary - it’s strange how one thoughtless decision could hold so much consequence. as now you’ve found yourself in bed with the man behind your corruption. trapped, you’re left unsure if you’re free of his influence or not. you want to believe he’s still behind it all, but you don’t know anymore

pairing - demon!jungkook x church boy!reader

genre - suspense, smut, angst

word count - 10.3k

warnings - kinda kidnapping?, technical discussion about the selling of a soul, demons care about consent, internalized homophobia, catholic guilt, smut reading, non descriptive dick sword play, reader goes through the stages of grief but not in order, masturbation, shame, voyeurism, degradation, name calling, orgasm control, ruined orgasms, sacreligious kink (oops), corruption kink, choking, face fucking, possessiveness, spanking, cum eating, spit as lube, explicit praying during sex (im sorry), dom!jungkook, sub!reader, top!jungkook, bottom!reader, gay sex, unprotected sex, crying during sex, dacryphilia, hospitals, doctors, police, homphobic parents, bisexual!childhood friend!yoongi, coming out, use of the word faggot, being disowned

author’s note - again, if you’re religious, i highly recommend not reading this. but thank you all for enjoying gay demon jk!! shout out to @crazy4myself for being the beta for this (ily)

tagged: @tipsydipsydo @anime-meme-sanctuary

part i

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349 notes • Posted 2021-08-18 22:11:59 GMT

groovy baby // jjk

summary - jeongguk powers, internatinal man of mystery, is here to save the day. but you sure as hell ain't having it with him

pairing - jungkook x female!reader

genre - crack/humor, smut; austin powers au

word count - 7.9k

warnings - crack that is literally taken seriously, absolute insanity, some 1960s lingo, austin powers references, jungkook being a cheeky bastard, flirty jungkook, swedish made penis milker that definitely doesn’t belong to jungkook, yoongi has one eye, gambling, bald kim seokjin, there is a plot that ends with porn, dom/sub dymanics, margret thatcher mention, sub!jk, dom!reader, whiny jungkook, edging, hand job, unprotected sex

author’s note - happy birthday to my dearest friend @jeonstudios behold the thing you have been fearing waiting for since i proposed the idea. it took me a year to do it, but it’s finally here. you’re welcome. hope you enjoy (also this wont make a lick of sense, it’s pure crack, nothing else)

See the full post

393 notes • Posted 2021-11-29 00:22:13 GMT

deep waters masterlist // myg & jjk

summary - legends of mermaids and other mythical sea creatures were always just that to you: legends and myths. but your entire world view shifts when your boyfriend claims he saw one for himself

pairing - marine biologist!yoongi x female!reader x siren!jeongguk

genre - sci-fi, drama, fluff, eventual smut; siren au

author’s note - this was inspired by freeform’s siren (damn another cancelled show). but this has been in my head for well over a year so i decided to finally write it!!

See the full post

397 notes • Posted 2021-08-30 23:11:50 GMT

something sick & twisted (i) // jjk

summary - all your life you considered yourself to be a good kid. you got good grades, went to church every sunday, didn’t go to any parties. you did anything you could to keep yourself on the path to heaven, even if it meant hiding some of the darkest parts of you to yourself. that was how you lived until one day, your no-good roommates decided to take you up to an abandoned cabin in the woods, where you begin to feel yourself corrupt from the inside out

pairing - demon!jungkook x church boy!reader

genre - suspense, smut

word count - 11.4k

warnings - internalized homophobia, catholic guilt, reader is a bit of a straight edge, kinda incubus!jungkook but also not really?, toxic friendships, drugs use (marijuana), driving while intoxicated/high, head injury, hospitals, kinda unconsensual touching?, clubbing, alcohol consumption, kitty gang!jimin shows up, sex dream, blowjob, paranoia, sleep deprivation, (former) youth group leader!namjoon, homophobic parents, masturbation, shame, lot’s of conflicted feelings, voyeurism, some degradation, slight man handling, name calling, spit as lube/improper prep (please don’t do that), loss of virginity, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, top!jungkook, bottom!reader, gay sex, unprotected sex (also don’t do that), non-explicitng praying during sex (um), crying during sex, kinda dacryphilia, marking, accidental selling of the soul

author’s note - the infamous gay demon jungkook is here. . . and here’s here to fuck shit up. i would like to note that if you are religious, i do not recommend reading this. @tipsydipsydo since you asked to be tagged. . . hope you enjoy also big shout out to @crazy4myself for being my beta for this ily

part ii

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564 notes • Posted 2021-06-13 17:01:13 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #GAY DEMON JK REIGNS SUPREME

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freebooter4ever · 3 years

Text

Sequel to Caboose

@s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r requested “desperate train sex” after reading this slightly enemies to lovers fic about Eugene building up the sexual tension with Snafu on the Caboose during their train ride home. The first part of this next chapter is all awkward feelings and shower sex on a train. I might have made it a tad over dramatic, you’ll have to let me know. The very end part with the parrot has already been posted here but I thought I would repost it all together. Read on to let Snafu and Gene finally resolve that tension!

Snafu lies on the floor of the caboose deck for longer than he probably should. He feels drained, and he's desperately waiting, hoping for Eugene to return.

Eugene doesn't return.

Snafu drags himself off the floor, and finally goes inside alone.

"You okay, Snaf?" Burgie asks when Snafu slinks into the seat opposite him, "You disappeared for a bit there."

Snafu sneaks a quick look at the culprit he's sitting beside.

Eugene refuses to make eye contact and conspires to appear completely innocent. As if Snafu isn't still wearing the taste of whatever lip balm Eugene uses.

"I'm fine," Snafu mumbles. He 'accidentally' kicks Eugene's foot when he settles into his seat.

Eugene doesn't even glance up from his journal.

"What're you writing?" Snafu asks him. Snafu swipes his tongue across his bottom lip. The residue there is sticky, and sweet.

"A letter," Eugene blatantly lies. He stares at Snafu's tongue for a minute too long.

"You're writing a letter in a journal?" Snafu asks, "What are you gonna do...rip the pages out when you're done or something? Or mail the whole book?"

"Leave me alone, Snafu," Eugene sighs.

"Leave you alone, leave the girls alone…is there anyone I'm allowed to talk to?" Snafu prods.

This question is what drives Eugene to finally make eye contact with Snafu. And when he does, he glares.

Snafu grins in return and sinks further into his seat. He stares idly out the window for a minute, but Eugene's pen going 'scritch scritch scritch' in the corner of his vision is too distracting. Of course Eugene would claim the window seat and spend the time scribbling away.

"I can't look out the window with you writing like that," Snafu complains.

"I'm not gonna stop writing," Eugene snaps, "So quit your complaining."

"You could at least give me the window seat, so I could enjoy the view uninterrupted," Snafu points out.

"I need the window for better light," Eugene argues.

"Your eyes already going bad, old man?" Snafu grins.

"I'm two years younger than you…" Eugene sighs.

"Yeah but I don't do all that reading," Snafu says wisely, "They say reading destroys your eyesight."

"That's a myth," Eugene claims, "As bad as your heebie-jeebies."

"Says who?" Snafu lifts his chin in defiance.

"My father's a doctor, Snafu," Eugene sighs again.

"Yeah, an internist," Snafu says, "Not an eye doctor."

Eugene looks sharp at him again.

"See, told ya I pay attention to all your ramblings," Snafu shakes his head gravely.

"I'm not giving you the window seat," Eugene concludes stubbornly.

Snafu opens his mouth to start the argument again but Burgie interrupts him first.

"Snafu there is a perfectly good window seat right here beside me," Burgie pats the bench next to him, "You don't need to antagonize Eugene."

Both Snafu and Eugene abruptly turn guiltily towards Burgie after he drops that particular word. Earlier Eugene had accused Snafu of antagonizing every girl on the train. And now here Snafu is again...antagonizing Eugene. Snafu shuts up, feeling caught. He eyes Eugene furtively and watches Eugene's face go from shock to embarrassment. Eugene is clearly realizing that he could be considered one of "Snafu's girls".

Of course, Eugene is easily the most feisty out of anyone Snafu has met...ever. Eugene's got the best reactions to Snafu riling him up. Not that Snafu can openly tell Gene this with Burgie sitting right there.

"He's not antagonizing me," Eugene insists quietly and then buries his nose back in his journal.

"I'm good. Sitting here," Snafu agrees with a shrug, "Don't need to move." And he pushes further into his seat, as if he can become an immovable part of the cushion.

Except Snafu is not 'good'. Snafu is restless. Eugene is there beside him...all stiff and sitting properly, his beautifully long neck arched like a swan, with singular focus on his writing. Snaf is barely two inches away, but is unable to touch him. He wants to run his mouth up that neck. And now that Snafu knows exactly how pliant Eugene's stupid thin lips are, he finds them impossible to resist.

Imagine being able to spend the whole train ride making out. Three whole days, with nothing to do but kiss Gene. Snafu closes his eyes and briefly indulges in this fantasy. Then Eugene coughs and shifts restlessly in his seat till his thigh budges up against Snafu's and Snafu is drawn out of his idle daydreams.

Clearly he's not the only one itching over not being able to touch.

Snafu starts jiggling his leg up and down involuntarily. He runs a hand through his hair, forgetting that he had styled it earlier. His hand comes out slightly wet and he can feel his hair poke out at odd angles.

'Jiggle, jiggle, jiggle,' goes Snafu's anxious knee.

Eugene's hand clamps down on Snafu's thigh and forces Snafu's foot flat to the ground. He effectively stops the jiggling.

They stare at each other as if both of them are surprised that Eugene had the gall to do that.

Burgie clears his throat.

Snafu hastily stands from his seat and knocks Eugene's hand off.

"Gonna sit by the window," Snafu explains and he scoots between Burgie's and Eugene's legs to sit in the spot across from Eugene. Maybe if he can stare at Eugene longingly with an unobstructed view, it will calm his need to touch.

Snafu lasts for all of five minutes before he realizes the view only makes it worse.

Eugene keeps glancing at Snafu from under his eyelashes in between fevered writing stints, so Snafu knows he really, really isn't the only one having this problem.

Snafu decides to solve it with a nap. He wiggles out of his jacket and props it against the window as a pillow.

"Why move to the window if you're only going to sleep rather than enjoy the view?" Eugene asks snidely.

Snafu glares at him and sits upright again. "Too damn cold against the glass, anyway," Snafu says. He looks around the car, desperate for an idea - something, anything.

Meanwhile Burgie peacefully reads his book, oblivious.

In a fit of inspiration, Snafu notes that everywhere in the passenger car Marines are sleeping on one another haphazardly. He doesn't know why he didn't think of this earlier. Eugene's used Snafu as a pillow plenty of times before, and Snafu's slept on Burgie more times than he can count.

Snafu shoots up from his seat. "Need a nap," he says and scoots back through Burgie and Eugene's legs. He plops down next to Eugene and shoves his wadded jacket into the crook of Eugene's neck. Then, before Eugene can protest, Snafu leans against the other guy, lays his head down on Eugene's shoulder, and pretends to go to sleep.

Burgie continues to read quietly.

"It's cold," Snafu whines and snuggles closer into Eugene's side. His hand slips enough that his pinky makes contact with Eugene's belt. Snafu wants to dig underneath that belt and push his fingers possessively inside Eugene's pants, and fall asleep like that, just because he can. Because Eugene would let him.

"I thought you were boiling hot?" Eugene reminds him.

Snafu glares at him. Whose side is he on, anyway?

Burgie hops up, grabs a blanket from the overhead rack, and tosses it at Snafu's head. "Sleep," Burgie orders, "Maybe then we will have some peace."

Snafu gratefully catches the blanket and throws it over himself. A corner of the blanket lands across Eugene's journal.

Eugene sighs heavily. He twitches the blanket away.

But that leaves a gap for cold air to seep through. Snafu twitches the blanket back in place.

"Well," Eugene says with resignation, "Guess we are napping now." He neatly stows away his journal and tugs the blanket to cover himself as well.

Securely hidden under the blanket, Snafu reaches blindly for Gene's hands. Eugene reaches back and they find each other somewhere around Eugene's left thigh. They twine their hands together and hold on tight.

There's no questioning, there's no shyness when they grab hold. Each of them knew exactly what the other wanted. That calming, quiet security of knowing the other person is feeling equally as much. Too much to hold it all in. Every bit of Snafu's riled up emotions are pouring into Eugene through his hands, and Snafu swears he can feel Eugene's coming back to him.

Eugene settles his head against the seat with a contented sigh, looking relaxed for the first time since Snafu sat down. Snafu cautiously looks up at him to see a small smile on Gene's face.

Carefully, so as not to move the blanket too much, Snafu turns Eugene's arm over and wiggles his fingers free from Gene's grasp. He spreads Eugene's hand out and then uses his own finger to draw a heart on Eugene's warm palm. He traces the heart a couple times to make sure Eugene gets the idea.

Eugene's hand closes around Snafu's finger and gives it an answering squeeze. Eugene then takes hold of Snafu's arm and draws a heart of his own on Snafu's palm.

Satisfied, Snafu goes back to holding both Eugene's hands and tries desperately to keep a stupid smile off his face. "Got you to stop writing," Snafu says triumphantly with his head resting next to Eugene's ear.

Eugene pinches Snafu hard in the tender flesh between thumb and fingers. It's extra painful since Eugene's fingernails have grown a little long post VJ day.

All Snafu can do is wince and wiggle in his seat, trying not to give away the fact that their hands are interlocked under the blanket.

Eugene squeezes his hand again as if to forgive Snafu for his annoying neverending pastime of trying to rile Eugene up, and then they settle comfortably into one another.

"Don't drool on my uniform," Eugene requests before Snafu drifts off to sleep.

Guess what Snafu does.

He wakes with a jerk as the train lurches over an uneven track. A thin trail of drool stretches from Snafu's chin to Eugene's shoulder. Snafu must have been sleeping extremely heavily.

"Morning sleeping beauty," Burgie says.

"It's morning?" Snafu asks groggily.

"Yup, you two slept through the night," Burgie says, a twinkle in his eye, "Almost twelve hours. I think you set a record."

"Fuck," Snafu drops his head back onto Eugene's shoulder. If he sits up any farther he'll have to let go of Eugene's hands still entwined in his.

Eugene sleeps on, like a rock.

"Eugene snores," Burgie announces. He seems to be sharing an inside joke with himself, "That's what woke you up. A particularly loud snore."

"Huh," Snafu says, "I thought the train went over a rock maybe."

"Nope, Eugene made that noise," Burgie tells him.

"Huh," Snafu says.

"Guess you guys'll have to suss out a solution to that once you two get your own place together," Burgie says.

It takes a minute for Burgie's words to set in. Then Snafu glances at him sharply. But Burgie simply sits there with his book, looking as sweet as ever. Snafu decides he's gonna go back to sleep and he snuggles comfortably back into Eugene's side.

And of course Eugene chooses that minute to wake up. Eugene doesn't move, he doesn't open his eyes, but he caresses Snafu's hand in a way that has Snafu wide awake instantly. And then he slowly, excruciatingly slowly, moves their clasped hands further down into Eugene's lap under the blanket. Where Eugene is rock hard.

"Jesus," Snafu breathes.

"What?" Burgie asks.

Snafu remembers that for all appearances Eugene is still asleep. And not secretly pressing Snafu's palm to his morning wood. Snafu snatches his hand back and hastily detangles himself from both Eugene and the blanket. "Nothing," Snafu says grumpily.

Eugene makes a show of "waking up" and calmly stretching. He keeps the blanket covering his lap.

Snafu draws his knees up to his chest and forces his mind to concentrate on anything other than the man sitting next to him.

"Snafu you drooled on me, didn't you," Eugene accuses. He pokes at the wet spot on his uniform.

"It was either that or drool over you," Snafu comments fairly. He lolls his head back on his seat, rolls his eyes to the ceiling and tries to look bored.

"Ugh. I hate waking up without fresh clothes to change into," Eugene wrinkles that perfect nose of his, "Thought those days were behind us."

"Still one more," Burgie says brightly.

"Yeah, one day for you," Snafu laughs, "We've got two."

"Two and a half on the train for me," Eugene sighs, "Three more mornings in this smelly uniform."

"I don't smell anything," Snafu reassures him.

"That's cause your stench covers everything within a half mile radius, Snaf," Eugene says.

Snafu scowls at Eugene, "You weren't complaining 'bout it on the back of the caboose."

"The breeze helped there," Eugene counters, quick as if he had it ready on the tip of his tongue.

Snafu can see a tiny grin under his casually blank expression. Eugene knows he is ticking Snafu off, and Eugene is enjoying it. But Snafu bets that if he helped Eugene out with his morning wood situation, Eugene wouldn't be half so picky about his smell.

Like a lightning bolt, Snafu is hit with inspiration. "You know...I hear the sleeper cars got showers," he says slyly, trying not to make eye contact with Gene.

"Really?" Eugene asks eagerly. Maybe a bit more eager than he normally would be. More eager than he should be.

"Yeah," Snafu smiles broadly, "We're moving up in the world. We're on one of those fancy trains. Running water and everything."

"Do you know which direction the sleeper cars are?" Eugene asks. He's already sitting up and looking perky, despite the morning hour.

"Towards the front, I think," Snafu replies.

Eugene stands and moves to the center aisle. And then pauses, rethinks his goal, and leans down towards Snafu, resting his arm behind Snaf's shoulders. "Hey," Eugene muses, "Maybe you should come with me. I might get lost."

"Snafu is not the one I would look to for directions," Burgie warns casually.

"Hey!" Snafu protests.

"You forget, I went through bootcamp with you, Snaf," Burgie says, "Where everyone learned to never leave you in charge of a map."

"It's a train," Snafu scowls, "You go one way and if you hit the end, you turn around and go the other way. How hard can it be?"

"Guess Sledgehammer can find his way on his own, then," Burgie says.

This leaves both Snafu and Sledge speechless. They stay in awkward silence while Snafu tries to come up with an excuse.

"Well yes. Except...," Eugene says as he gazes soulfully down at Snafu, "...now that I'm standing here, getting pretty close to him, I can honestly say Snaf smells awful, if anyone needs a shower, it's him," Eugene points out, "He should come with me."

Snafu sniffs his armpit. He makes a face. "Sledgehammer's right."

"C'mon, we'll find the sleeper cars," Eugene announces and drags Snafu along behind him by the sleeve of his uniform.

Luckily it doesn't actually take them long to find the sleeper car at the very front of the train. And it takes even less time to locate the blessedly empty shower compartment. Eugene shoves Snafu into the changing room space and squeezes in behind him. There's barely enough room for one man, let alone two.

The tight squeeze isn't too much of a hardship as Snafu doesn't mind being squished up between the wall and Gene's body as Eugene boldly rips Snafu's uniform off him.

"Better not actually tear my shirt, I do have to wear it two more days," Snafu warns him with false sincerity.

"Oh, like you care," Eugene says sarcastically and pushes Snafu's pants down around his ankles.

And it's true, Snafu does not care about a few rips in his button holes. Definitely not when Eugene is touching him, and kissing his bare chest.

"You don't eat enough," Eugene comments in between kisses. He runs his thumb down Snafu's side, hitting each individual rib as he goes. He crouches down and kisses Snafu's stomach, right below his sternum, between the apex of his ribs.

"I smoke too much," Snafu counters, his voice husky. He gets his hands in Eugene's hair and nudges Eugene's head down further. "A little lower, Sledge," he says and throws Eugene a smile and wink. He tries to put a bit of distance in his voice, as if all he wants out of this is Eugene's mouth on his dick.

Eugene looks up at Snafu from under his lashes. Rather than following Snafu's suggestion, Eugene playfully changes course and mouths over to Snafu's nipple. One tweak of Eugene's lips and Snafu is reflexively jutting his hips into Eugene's body. "I'll have to help you quit," Eugene mumbles, "The smoking, I mean."

"You stickin around for that long?" Snafu asks, well aware that his type tends to leave once the sex is over with.

Eugene takes his mouth off Snafu's nipple, and straightens up to look Snafu in the eye. "Of course," he says, "Why wouldn't I?"

Suddenly feeling flustered at Eugene's very serious and easily given commitment, Snafu ducks his head and focuses on kicking his boots off. "Sure you will," Snafu says disbelievingly.

"Snafu," Eugene sighs, "We've been together this long, might as well see it through to the end. I lied to Burgie back there. I've spent so long living with your constant presence, I don't even smell you anymore." Eugene sounds slightly grossed out by this fact. He pushes his face into Snafu's neck and takes a deep breath. At the same time he gets his hands around Snafu's ass and grinds their hips together. "I can certainly feel you," Gene says with a smirk.

Snafu tries to respond in kind. His leg bounces forward on it's own accord, giving Gene more access to rut against him. Caught up in his own enthusiasm, Snafu's foot catches on his pants hanging loose around his ankles, and he almost falls over. Luckily the shower dressing room is cramped enough he simply rams into the wall.

Eugene chuckles at him and holds Snafu's elbows to keep Snafu upright while he angrily shakes his foot out of his stupidly tight uniform.

"Why are you still dressed while I'm butt naked?" Snafu glares at Eugene.

"Cause you havent taken anything off me yet," Eugene answers, smug.

"That's my responsibility now?" Snafu asks.

"Mhmm," Eugene hums as he leans in close once more and rests their foreheads together. Eugene's hands run up around Snafu's ribcage, to his shoulders, and down to his waist again rhythmically as if Eugene is trying to memorize his form.

"You sure took my clothes off fast," Snafu notes. He initially thought Eugene was gonna take him in a rush, with the way Gene fought to free Snafu from his pants.

"I wanted to admire you," Eugene says, with his gentle hands doing every bit of that admiring.

Damn artist boy. "We've been naked together in the showers plenty of times, Gene," Snafu whines, ready to get down to the good stuff, "Nothing you haven't seen before."

"Not like this," Eugene argues. He runs his hand down Snafu's stomach, and finally to his groin. "I couldn't take my time to look then. I couldn't touch you then. You know, I never told you, but I find Snafu's pecker awfully beautiful," Eugene adds, as if Snafu's dick should be framed and hung in a museum rather than hung between his legs or hung as stars in the sky.

Snafu swells with pride. He puffs up his chest and bucks his hips against Eugene's. "Looks like Snafu's pecker is angling up again," he announces, "All for you this time."

"I can tell," Eugene grins and he kisses a sensitive spot on Snafu's neck that almost sends Snafu's senseless.

Snafu kinda wishes Eugene complimenting his dick didn't make him as weak as he feels. Like putty in Eugene's hands. Like if Eugene jerks him off right now, it won't even take too long and then Eugene can go back to admiring Snafu all he damn well pleases.

Eugene laughs in Snafu's ear and Snafu realizes he might have been babbling out loud.

"What if I enjoy admiring you like this? Maybe I don't want it to end just yet," Eugene teases and pauses his hand's movement over Snafu's dick, "You act all haughty like you don't need anyone, but now…"

"Fuck, Gene," Snafu groans, canting his hips desperately, willing to do almost anything, "You're right..."

"Right about what?" Eugene asks with his know-it-all smirk. He moves his hands around to Snafu's ass and leans on him, pressing him into the wall.

"I need you…" Snafu admits, grinding against Gene's leg.

Eugene's fingers dig into the flesh of Snafu's butt and he holds Snafu tight against his body, not allowing him to move even a tiny wiggle.

"Gene…" Snafu groans, "How many times do I have to…?"

"Beg," Eugene orders, his voice and warm breath on Snafu's ear.

That sends an odd chill down Snafu's spine. "Fuck," Snafu complains, "No!" He pushes out of Eugene's grip and shoves Eugene against the opposite wall. "Asshole," Snafu tells him.

But Eugene is smiling. He's got such an innocent, teasing smile. His smile knows something Snafu doesn't. Almost as if this is some inside joke between them. Except if there is a joke, it's gone over Snafu's head.

Eugene's eyes glitter as he looks at Snafu. In fact, his entire body lights up, like he worships the ground Snafu walks on. A truth Snafu is painfully aware of given the number of times Eugene unquestionably obeyed Snafu's orders during the war. He'd follow Snafu into anything, even this. Whatever this is.

Eugene's erection is outlined in his pants. He wants this as much as Snafu does. If it is true that Snafu corrupted Eugene, he's corrupted him fully.

"Show me how you do it," Eugene suggests.

"What?" Snafu asks with confusion. He's about ready to gather his clothes and leave - abandon Eugene hard and wanting in the bathroom just like Eugene left him on the caboose floor.

"I want to make you feel good, so…show me what you do," Eugene gestures to Snafu's dick.

"It's not rocket science," Snafu shakes his head.

"I know, but I want to watch you," Eugene says.

So Snafu saunters over closer to Eugene. He lifts his chin high and places one hand against the wall over Eugene's shoulder. Snafu's other hand takes hold of his dick and starts to masturbate. All while staring Eugene straight in the eye. To Snafu's surprise, Eugene doesn't look away.

"Thought you were gonna watch and learn," Snafu gripes and nods down at his crotch, where Eugene's eyes should be.

"I am learning," Eugene says. He places his hands tenderly on either side of Snafu's cheeks and cradles his head. He keeps gazing into Snafu's eyes which somehow makes Snafu even more fucking turned on than he already is.

"Oh hell," Snafu whines.

Eugene kisses him. Gene kisses him and then slides his hands down Snafu's body and takes over in jerking Snafu off just as Snafu is about to come.

"Ohhhh," Snafu moans. He grabs Eugene's head and fucking devours him, pouring every bit of unreleased sexual tension into the kiss.

Gene inches Snafu closer and closer to the edge till…"Sledgehammer, I'm gonna…"

Eugene smiles proudly and speeds up with encouragement from Snafu, but he warns, "If you dare get my uniform dirty…"

"Fuck you, Sledge," Snafu bites his lip and fumbles Eugene's hands out of the way. Snafu gets there just in time. He comes with gusto, spilling all over his own hands. But thankfully, only in his hands. He drops his head to Eugene's shoulder and pants. He feels a bit stunned.

Eugene rubs his back comfortingly, but Snafu barely feels it.

Once Snafu's collected himself, he leans back and holds his hands up for inspection. "See, not a single drop on your precious jacket," Snafu brags obnoxiously.

Eugene laughs and drags him into another kiss.

"Jesus, Gene!" Snafu protests, "Let me wash my hands first so I can touch you again and not smear cum everywhere!"

But Eugene won't take his lips off him.

Again, not that Snafu is complaining or anything. But it's a bit of a struggle to slide under Eugene's arm and grope for the sink faucets. His face still suctioned to Eugene's, Snafu blindly shoves his hands under the water and slaps them around to get all his spunk off.

Eugene wraps a hug around Snaf from behind, kissing his neck and chuckling at their reflection. "You cut the finest figure I have ever seen," Eugene whispers. He runs his hands down Snafu's abdominal V, and rests them right over his groin.

"Yeah, and how many figures have you seen?" Snafu is sarcastic, "One?"

"I've made quite the study of it," Eugene insists.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm," Eugene says, "I've studied all the old masters' anatomy sketches - Da Vinci, Michelangelo…"

"That gay painter?" Snafu pipes up.

"What?" Eugene asks.

"Michelangelo, the guy who wrote love poems to his male nude models?" Snafu says.

"I don't know anything about that…"

"Da Vinci was gay too…" Snafu says, relishing in Eugene's obvious discomfort.

"How can you be sure of any of this?" Eugene asks.

"Oh please, you think gay erotica is easy to come by in New Orleans?" Snafu laughs, "You weren't the only one reading books on the 'Old Masters' anatomy studies. But for me it wasn't so much reading as it was a lot of looking. Checked 'em out from the library all the time, just not for your reasons." He leans back into Eugene's touch and smirks at Gene in the mirror, "Or maybe exactly for your reasons?"

"I…" Eugene is blushing, "I thought it was a coincidence."

"What? That these raunchy old dudes filled up pages and pages of meticulously detailed male nude drawings? Drawings that maybe turned you on?" Snafu asks.

"I never thought of art that way," Eugene argues.

"You trying to tell me studying those never made you hot?" Snafu teases.

"Well, there was one…."

"Ooooh!" Snafu coos. He comfortably wraps Eugene's arms in front of his stomach, and settles in as if to hear a story, smiling at Gene's blushing face all the while.

"I once saw a slide depicting a portion of the Sistine Chapel paintings..." Eugene confesses.

"Getting hot in church!" Snafu crows.

"The slide was shown in college, not in church!" Eugene protests, "Anyway, one of the male figures was sitting with his torso elegantly twisted and the cloth behind him was draped so it appeared to fall between his naked legs…" Eugene slides his hands down Snafu's body and onto his thigh, "...like the fabric was caressing him sensuously...like…" Eugene trails off and dips his hand between Snafu's own legs. He grips the soft slack muscle of Snafu's inner thigh. "Adductor group" Eugene whispers. He runs his hands down the inside of Snafu's leg, tracing a long line of muscle and disappearing out of sight in the mirror. "Sartorius," Gene names the muscle anatomy on Snafu's body as he goes, "Vastus Medialis. Internal oblique. External oblique."

Snafu closes his eyes. He can't see the muscles Eugene is referencing, but he can feel Eugene's fingers dig deep almost to the bone, massaging the different areas. "Fuck Sledge. Only you could make Latin hot."

Eugene laughs quietly behind Snafu's head. "Only you would think me benignly listing anatomical names was hot," he says.

"Everything you do is hot," Snafu's grin widens.

"Scrubbing barrels?"

"The hottest!" Snafu exclaims.

Eugene chuckles again.

Snafu opens his eyes to watch Sledgehammer giggle. Eugene's whole body trembles, and his mouth forms a wide 'V'. His laugh is pretty hot too.

The door knocks.

They both freeze. Snafu guiltily turns the sink faucet off.

The door knocks again.

"Busy," Snafu yells.

"Hurry it up!" a voice calls, "You're hogging it!"

"No chance!" Snafu retorts.

This time the door bangs as the man on the other side takes his angry fist to it.

Snafu starts to feel nervous. He's unsure how they're gonna get out of this one if the guy outside waits for them to leave.

"Ignore it, we're paying customers," Eugene whispers to Snafu.

"Not in the sleeper car," Snafu points out. The ticket crumpled on the floor in his pants back pocket is for coach only.

"Turn the shower on," Eugene says softly in his ear.

Snafu reaches past the shower curtain and does as he's told. The water drowns out the outside voices, but they still hear footsteps as the guy goes away.

"Get in. I'll get undressed and join you in a minute," Eugene orders.

Eugene being bossy is a bit of a turn on.

"Sure," Snafu drawls. He pinches Gene on the ass and adds, "Gluteus maximus," before he squeezes past the curtain into the shower.

"You pinched the Gemellus muscles, actually," Eugene catches his hand and yanks him into a quick kiss before letting him go.

Snafu slides the curtain shut to let Eugene change, and starts to wrestle with the dumb shower knobs. None of them seem to work the way one might expect. "What the fuck?" Snafu complains and punches the stupid thing. Water comes out. In squirts.

"The shower head's ejaculating," Snafu tells Eugene on the other side of the curtain, "We might need to give it some privacy before we start." Another few squirts and the water eases into a steady stream.

"You forgot the soap," Gene's still clothed arm sticks into the shower between the tile edge and the curtain, and waves the bar at Snafu.

"Don't need soap," Snafu says haughtily.

"Yes you do," Eugene counters and waggles the soap at him again.

"Fresh water and a lil spit shine are all a man needs," Snafu insists.

Eugene shoves the soap into Snafu's chest, "Use the damn soap, Snaf. You filthy grimlin."

Rolling his eyes, Snafu does as he's told and grabs the soap. But he also grabs Gene's arm, and yanks both into the shower with him.

Eugene yelps when the water hits his chest and dribbles all over his uniform. "Shelton!" Eugene sputters, "Three more days! In this uniform!" He can't even get a proper sentence out, he's so angry.

Snafu gives him a better reason for speechlessness by putting his mouth over Eugene's.

Gene immediately forgets about his wet uniform woes and melts into the kiss. He corners Snafu and braces himself on the tile floor using the rubber soles of his boots. His strong stance keeps the two of them steady despite the shaking train. Whatever gunk Eugene styles his hair with melts away too and the long strands over his forehead slowly droop into Snafu's face.

Snafu breaks the kiss, leans his forehead against Gene's and fumbles to get all of Eugene's buttons open. In his haste, he doesn't even bother to pull the shirt out of Gene's pants. He just shoves the open shirt to the side as best as he can and drags Eugene in. The first touch of Eugene's bare skin against Snafu's own chest fulfills almost every secret wish Snafu had for this moment.

Snafu holds him there without kissing without even looking, and just feels it. He thinks he maybe understands now what Eugene meant by simply admiring.

Then Eugene ruins the mood by whispering, "My boots are filling up with water."

Snafu snorts, "Least it's not sweat?"

"You gonna let me take them off this time?" Eugene asks with a smirk.

"Only if you take the rest of it off too," Snafu tugs at Eugene's shirt.

The stream of water slows to a trickle and then stops altogether

"You turned the shower off?" Eugene asks, "Thanks…?" He sounds slightly befuddled. Probably because both of Snafu's hands are gripping Gene's clothes.

"I didn't touch it," Snafu remarks, "Its push button. The thing stops on it's own."

“What?”

“Push button,” Snafu demonstrates by leaning over to press the shower knob again. Water spurts out and hits Gene in the back of the head.

“Who makes a push button shower?” Eugene complains. He ducks away to avoid the water stream that starts steadily trickling down.

“Santa fe railroad company apparently,” Snafu comments.

“I will have to remember to file a complaint," Eugene scowls at the little plastic knob.

"Don't know how you're gonna remember that, you already forgot to get undressed," Snafu tells him, and then playfully pushes Gene back out of the shower, "And don't come back till you're naked, you filthy grimlin."

"My ruined uniform is your fault, Snafu," Gene points out, "You pulled me in."

"Yeah, yeah," Snafu taunts, "it ain't ruined. It just got a free wash."

Gene doesn't say anything else, but if Snafu listens carefully he can hear the titillating sounds of Eugene's belt being unbuckled. A few thuds signify when the boots come off and another quiet jingle as Eugene's pants and belt fall to the floor.

Eugene will be stepping into the shower any minute. Snafu figures he had better turn the water back on, give it a chance to heat up before Eugene joins him.

Despite Snafu's reassurances to Eugene about how they've seen each other naked in many innocuous circumstances, Snafu feels nervous as hell. Eugene is rather flighty and embarrassed when it comes to sex and the last thing Snafu wants to do is scare him off. And this stupid train is making that a tall order.

Snafu slams his hand down on the shower knob and pushes it repeatedly, taking his stress out on the poor thing more than it deserves. The water comes out of the nozzle in spurts, and after twenty or so pushes, finally turns warm. Snafu breathes a sigh of relief and turns his face into the stream.

"Snaf?" Eugene asks softly from behind the shower curtain.

"Yeah?" Snafu asks back.

Eugene doesn't answer.

Snafu moves to peek behind the curtain but Eugene holds it closed.

"You coming in?" Snafu asks.

No response.

"Gene?"

Still no response.

The water trickles to a stop, Snafu doesn't bother to turn it back on again. "Gene, if you want me to use this soap, you're gonna have to come in and make me," Snafu challenges.

"What if you don't like it?" Eugene asks.

"What is there to like about a bar of soap? Soap is soap!" Snafu is confused, "You know I don't do flowers and shit. I'll end up smelling like a hat box." His mother had a Sunday hat she kept on the top shelf of the broom closet in a beat up old cardboard box with a satchel of lavender stored inside. 'Looks nice, smells nice, and no bugs,' was her mantra.

"No...I mean…" Eugene sighs, "I'm not built like those…" he stops, hesitates, and starts again, "Those other guys, with their steel band muscles. The military men who could've stepped out of an anatomical study - all chiseled jaws, and broad chests, and sculpted arms…what if you don't like...me?"

"Sledgehammer, I've wanted to fuck you since the first day you walked into my tent," Snafu says through the curtain, "And you were more freckles than muscle then."

"Yeah I figured, but…"

"But nothing," Snafu laughs, "get your butt in here!"

Again the other side of the curtain goes quiet. Snafu starts to realize that Gene might be serious about this.

Snafu changes his tone, to something a little kinder, and adds further compelling facts to his argument, "I've seen you naked. Many times."

"Not like this," Eugene says again, a stubborn note in his voice.

"I've jerked myself off to the thought of you naked, many times," Snafu offers, "How about that?" He's confident this will boost Eugene's confidence.

"I...don't think anyone's ever said that to me before," Eugene says with mild skepticism in his voice.

Snafu presses his hand to Eugene's on the opposite side of the curtain and the thin, opaque sheet of plastic between them is almost as bad as only being able to hold hands under a damn blanket. "Okay, Gene. I won't pressure you," Snafu says softly, "This stupid shower has enough pressure issues as it is," -in that instant the water pressure changes yet again and spurts of it slap Snafu in the face. He shakes his head free of water and tells Eugene, "Just give me a few to finish here, and then I'll let you have the shower to yourself. All right?" He steps away from the curtain and pushes the knob to fix the stream.

Snafu runs his hair under the shower to wet it fully. A difficult task given that with every bump in the tracks, the stream cuts off briefly. Not to mention Snafu keeps stumbling into the damn wall. He opens the cardboard carton of soap and successfully pulls the soap free, but the minute he tries to scrub his hair with it, the train jostles his hand and out pops the soap bar. Like a weasel. Or Eugene's dick if Snafu could just yank those dungarees off him.

Snafu catches the damn thing, but barely. He rubs it against his head a few times, and then a particularly nasty jostle careens his elbow into the wall and sends the soap skittering to the floor. Snafu grumbles at it, picks it up, and tries again.

This song and dance with the soap continues for a while longer before Snafu gets fed up.

"I'm not coming out..." Snafu announces to Eugene, "...just let me reach…" He thrusts his hand between the wall and the curtain and tosses the soap out of the shower, "Take it! It's worse than a damn jumping bean." The soap collides with the wall and bounces into the sink.

Snafu can hear Eugene swearing behind the curtain as he tries to catch the soap.

"It landed on your clothes," Eugene says, "So if your pants smell like flowers, you've only yourself to blame."

"Better than whatever the hell they smelled like before," Snafu says. He hurriedly runs his hands under his armpits and prepares to exit the treacherous shower.

"Snaf, wait," Eugene says quickly.

"Yeah?" Snafu freezes.

"I changed my mind. Can I…" Eugene's fingers appear around the edge of the curtain. It opens a crack.

It's as if Snafu has been given a second chance at life. The ball is in his court again. Snafu isn't used to the side of Eugene who feels insecure and uncertain. But this? Snafu knows exactly how to handle this.

"Only if you say the magic word," Snafu answers in a tease.

"Please?" Eugene says incredulously, like he suspects Snafu is pulling his leg.

"Nope, wrong word," Snafu insists. He turns around and tilts his head back to let the trickle of water seep into his already drying hair again. Better get ready for when Eugene finally breaks down that curtain. Snafu needs to be wet, and shiny, and vivacious.

"A magic word, Shelton, seriously?" Eugene asks, the annoyance slipping so easily into his countenance.

"Nope, still not the right word," Snafu repeats. He shakes his head, flinging his wet curls out of his eyes.

"You expect me to just start saying random words?" Eugene asks.

"I'll let you know when you get it right," Snafu says.

"Asshole," Eugene grumbles.

"Wrong!" Snafu exclaims.

There's silence on the other side of the curtain. Eugene is really bad at this.

"Are you really going to stand out there alone and bare ass-ed instead of continuing to guess?" Snafu taunts.

"Snafu, just let me in," Eugene sighs.

"Nope!"

"Merriell!"

"Yup, that's the one," Snafu bends his head back again.

Eugene lets out a frustrated mumble. The curtain jerks open. "Close your eyes," Eugene orders.

Snafu closes his eyes and lets the water fill his ears, so for a minute it's just him and solitude. He stops thinking about Eugene, he stops thinking about himself. The only thing he focuses is on is the sound of his own heartbeat...and how difficult it is to stay standing in one place while the train tries to throw him in all directions.

"Well, this is narrow," Eugene observes when he steps into the shower. The metal shower curtain rod squeaks as Gene closes it behind himself.

Snafu hums.

Gene's hands press against Snafu's stomach. They are warmer than the outside air but wet when he slides them around Snafu's waist. The next thing Snafu feels is Eugene's lips kissing his neck, sucking at the water running down his skin. Eugene is dying of thirst and it might be Snafu's fault.

And then the train rattles extra hard, and Snafu is thrown into Eugene and Eugene is thrown into the wall.

Giggles abound.

Snafu opens his eyes.

Eugene looks at him, and Snafu looks at Eugene. Eugene is fucking beautiful, as always. Snafu makes sure to tell him so.

Eugene seems satisfied by Snafu's sincerity.

And finally, they come together and get down to the good stuff.

It isn't easy. Everything - including the inconsistent water spray, the constant need to pound on the button to make water come out, and the occasional bumps in the railroad track - combines to try and kill the mood.

But nevertheless Snafu persists, because Eugene is nude, and wet, and slippery due to Gene bringing the damn soap back into the shower with him. And he insists on using it on Snafu.

Both of them perpetually get too distracted to remember to hit the water button, and eventually they leave it off. But this also means that when Eugene lathers them up with soap, there is nowhere for that soap to go except down. Things get extremely slippery underfoot.

"Should've kept the boots on," Snafu suggests snidely, "Better grip in the soles."

Eugene snorts into Snafu's shoulder and grips Snafu's hips harder to make up for the slick slide of his feet on the shower floor. "Just hold onto me, I'll keep you upright," He says, and smiles adoringly at Snafu's antics.

"You kidding me? You're more unsteady on your feet than I am, soap boy!" Snafu laughs.

It's worth it though, because the glide of Eugene's bare thigh between Snafu's legs is to die for. Their bodies become one single undulating soapy mass. And Eugene's body, for all his insecurities and shyness, feels fucking amazing. Everything is amazing. Snafu hopes no one else needs the shower anytime soon, because Snafu intends to stay in it for the rest of the train ride. All three days.

Snafu is riding high on pleasure till he tries to get his mouth on Eugene's nipple and tastes soap. Snafu chokes, and spits, and Eugene looks insulted. "We need to wash off," Snafu explains. He slams his fist against the stupid button.

"Maybe if we had sex against the water knob, we'd keep pressing it naturally…" Eugene suggests, "That's how sex works, right?" He pantomimes a hammer motion with his hips and Snafu almost loses it then and there.

"Pretty sure we'd break our heads if we tried that in the shower, Sledgehammer," Snafu warns.

They try it anyway.

Sure enough, just as Eugene's dick successfully penetrates an inch into Snafu's ass, the train jiggles again and throws them off balance. Snafu slides under Gene and falls to his butt, and Eugene braces his hands against the wall, straddling over Snafu and looking alarmed.

"Makes it easier," Snafu shrugs and takes Gene's cock into his mouth instead.

Eugene gasps and almost buckles to the floor.

Snafu wraps his arms around Eugene's body and helps him stand.

Eugene leans his shoulder against the shower wall and winds his fingers into Snafu's hair. "Merriell," Eugene pants, "Mer…"

Snafu simply grins and works Eugene closer and closer to the edge. Eugene's arousal is a little hard for Snafu to read. Eugene isn't particularly physically expressive. Eugene's body grows tighter, like he's almost afraid of the point he's nearly about to hit. There's so much visible tension built up in Eugene's shoulders, all Snafu wants is to see that relax - to be the person who can make Eugene's taught string snap.

The only way Snafu knows Eugene is close is by the noises Gene makes. As Eugene loses his control, his moans grow almost too loud for the precarious situation they're in.

Eugene's eyes close, his breaths quicken, and he rolls his hips in one last desperate push.

Everything comes crashing to a climax. The train hits a bump. Eugene moans, his muscles shake. Snafu involuntarily pops off Eugene's dick (like the soap out of Snafu's hand) and is thrown backwards. Eugene slips, having lost total control of his legs. Cum squirts everywhere, all over the blue tile shower wall like Eugene's some sort of Jackson Pollock. He falls and his knee lands on top of Snafu's groin. Snafu stifles his cry of agony and doubles over. Eugene immediately turns from blissed out to worried and apologetic and in his haste to help Snafu, he instead falls in Snafu's lap.

They sit there together in the aftermath and watch the water turn off. The shower walls are still painted in Gene's cum.

"You're a real artist now, Gene," Snafu says, observing the mess. His voice is tight and he's still crouched in pain.

Eugene blinks at Snafu, lets the words sink in, and then rolls his eyes, "Oh god. Don't even start." He slowly gets back on his feet again. He stretches his legs, flexes his feet to grip the tile better.

Snafu grins.

"Snaf?" Eugene says, taking deep breaths as his heart rate goes down.

"Yeah?" Snafu stares up at him, anxious to hear how Gene's taking all this. And not wanting to influence him with Snafu's own commentary.

Eugene swallows a gulp of air, closes his eyes, and leans his head against the cool tile. He accidentally puts his hand in a wet smear of his own cum and doesn't even notice. "Can we do that again?" Gene asks.

Snafu's grin widens, "Anytime."

Gene huffs a laugh. He tries to stand straight, his left foot hits a soapy patch, and Eugene's leg almost goes out from underneath him. Again.

Snafu chuckles as he lifts his arms to prop up Gene's ass and prevent him from falling.

"Sorry!" Eugene gives up on standing and instead slowly lowers himself backwards down into Snafu's lap. The round globe of Eugene's bare butt grows bigger and bigger in Snafu's field of vision.

Snafu is not complaining. He guides Eugene's ass safely down to his level. "I fucking love you," he says.

Eugene spins around to stare at him in surprise. He almost drops his knee onto Snafu's groin a second time, “What?”

The smile drops from Snafu's face and he tries to stop Gene from moving around so much, “Careful!”

“You said you loved me," Eugene says stubbornly.

Snafu scowls, “Yeah to your ass. As it came crashing down onto my face.”

Eugene glares at Snafu, challenging him to refute Eugene's earlier statement.

Snafu refuses to say anything related to the dumbass words that slipped out of his mouth easier than Eugene's soapy feet slipping on wet tile.

Eugene stares him down, clearly stubborn enough to believe that he can win this contest. He underestimates Snafu's ability to go deadfaced. Their staredown lasts for at least five minutes.

Until finally Eugene caves, "Love you too, Snaf." He gives Snafu's knee a friendly push.

Snafu pushes Eugene's face away so his back is to Snafu once again.

Eugene tries to stand on wobbly feet, more determined this time.

Snafu leans forward, wraps his arms around Eugene's waist, and presses his face to Eugene's right butt cheek.

"Snafu, you're gonna make me fall again…" Eugene warns. He braces himself on either side of the shower.

"Right, sorry…balance," Snafu mumbles and switches to Eugene's left butt cheek. To even things out.

"Okay…" Eugene laughs and turns himself around, "Let me help you up now."

Snafu takes Eugene's offered hand but when he tries to get up, the pain in his groin and shoulder where Gene accidentally crushed him flares up in agony. "Give me a minute," Snafu says and tries to hide his grimace. He drops back down to the tile and leans against the wall, pulling his legs close to his chest.

"Snaf?" Eugene sounds concerned.

"I'm fine," Snafu replies with a smile. He wishes Eugene wouldn't stare at him so much, "Just let me sit."

"Snaf…" Eugene sounds increasingly frustrated.

Snafu closes his eyes and wills the pain away.

A gentle hand takes hold of Snafu's wrist and lifts Snafu's hand from where it's covering his shoulder. Eugene replaces it with his own. "Snaf, don't do this," Eugene says.

"What?" Snafu cracks an eye open.

"Make yourself small," Eugene says, "You are allowed to take up space. Even if right now inside this inhumanely cramped shower the only space I have to give you is in my heart."

Snafu blinks at him, "Holy shit Sledgehammer, how long did it take you to come up with that one?"

Eugene grins, "Been thinking about it since you pulled me in with all my clothes on. I'm gonna write it down when we're finished. In my journal. Next to my lengthy descriptions of your pillowed lips."

"We oughta get out of this cursed shower so you can put those clothes back on," Snafu comments. He tries to hold onto the shower curtain to pull himself up.

"Snaf, that cheap plastic will rip right down if you put your weight on it," Eugene warns, "Hold onto me instead."

Snafu does as told and leans half his weight on Eugene's chest. "I don't need you," Snafu insists, staring into Gene's face defiantly.

"I know," Eugene smiles, "But I also know you want me. So...."

Snafu kisses him gently to shut Gene up.

Without all the acrobatics they kept trying before, it's suddenly pretty easy for them both to lean against the shower wall and let the train rock them side to side as they make out.

Snafu is freezing cold. The water stopped spurting long ago, and his toes feel like individual icicles. But every place on his body where Gene puts his hands is warm, and as long as Eugene keeps his lips on him, Snafu doesn't care about all the rest.

"I dreamt we could spend the entire train ride kissing like this," Snafu whispers to Gene.

"Yeah?" Eugene's eyes light up. He trails a finger down the muscle of Snafu's neck, "I'd do it." Eugene leans in and replaces his finger with his lips, "If i thought we could get away with it, I would sit right in the middle of that passenger car, necking with you till we reach Mobile."

Snafu latches on to the last few words of Eugene's sentence: 'till we reach Mobile.' 'We.'

"Fuck, Gene," Snafu says softly.

They kiss till the train starts to slow. "Where the fuck do you think we are now?" Snafu asks, knowing they probably aren't even in Texas yet.

"Tucson probably," Eugene mumbles. He unsticks Snafu's bare skin from the shower wall and pushes him toward the center of the stall, "C'mon we only have a few minutes before everybody is aboard."

They end up getting twenty. Twenty blissful minutes of a perfectly still, unmoving train. The rush from the beginning of their tryst returns. Snafu slams his hand against the shower knob and honest-to-god hot water comes out, melting their fingers and toes, and putting Snafu in a languid, sensual mood. His entire body is nothing but sensation and Eugene is a goddamn dream.

As long as Snafu keeps his hand behind his back covering the shower knob, the rocking of their bodies does exactly as Eugene had originally intended and keeps the water flowing. Eugene laughs a little at how much easier everything is all of a sudden. How they fit together so well now.

Snafu laughs with him. He's genuinely sharing this with Eugene, instead of focusing on how to take what little pleasure he can from this and get it over with as fast as possible.

He's actually disappointed when the train starts moving again. He nearly slides out of Eugene's embrace, but Eugene grabs Snafu's hands and holds him in place.

"We're getting all prune-y," Eugene comments as he examines the wrinkled pads of Snafu's fingers.

"Turnin' into raisins," Snafu grins.

"We should probably get out. Return to our seats. They're bound to be wondering where we got to," Eugene replies.

"Burgie probably thinks we jumped ship," Snafu agrees.

"Do you think Burgie knows?" Eugene asks, his voice turning serious.

Snafu snorts, "What you think he'd be jealous? Florence has your same hair color, Sledgehammer, but she also has a couple of other things I think Burgie'd miss." And he pantomimes two large jugs hanging in front of his chest.

"Snaf," Eugene admonishes, "Do you think he knows?"

"Of course he knows," Snafu rolls his eyes and leans against the shower wall as the train picks up speed.

Eugene sways into him and grabs Snafu around the waist. "We need to keep this secret. We can't tell anyone else," he insists.

Snafu nods. He knows the drill. He saw this coming a mile away, probably far sooner than Eugene did. Eugene with his lofty ideals and blind romance.

Eugene nods in return. He turns towards the shower curtain and yanks it open. Something makes him pause though. Snafu can see the indecision in his hunched shoulders. Eugene looks back at Snafu. And then lunges towards him for one more kiss.

"Fuck you're good at that," Snafu mutters when Gene finally releases him.

"At what?" Eugene asks.

"Final kisses," Snafu says, unable to keep the melancholy out of his own voice.

"That's not a final kiss," Eugene counters, looking confused, "That's a promise."

"A promise for what?" Snafu asks.

"You know...," Eugene shrugs. He turns his back on Snafu and steps out of the shower.

"So that's not you saying goodbye?" Snafu follows him.

"No, Snafu, that's me saying 'hold that thought until I can do it again'," Eugene explains with a wry smile, "Hopefully soon."

"Huh," Snafu scratches the nape of his neck and wonders what else he might've read wrong about Eugene's behavior.

Eugene holds up his still sopping wet uniform with a look of dismay. "It's been hours," he complains, "And still…"

"Wanna trade?" Snafu asks with a gleam in his eye.

"Yeah and have Burgie ask why I've suddenly gone up in rank?" Eugene retorts sarcastically.

Snafu chuckles and turns his attention to the bathroom air vent while Eugene struggles to put on his wet pants.

"What are you doing?" Eugene asks. He sounds tired. He leans against the wall, his pants only halfway up his legs.

Snafu ignores the question. Instead he climbs onto the sink, stands, and braces himself against the wall to reach the small air vent intended to keep the room fresh. He cleverly pops open the vent, catches it before it falls into the little changing room, and sets it down in the sink. "Figure we'll be here awhile," Snafu shrugs, "Give you some chance to dry off." He digs out a cigarette and his lighter.

"I can't get the pants to go over my thighs," Eugene complains, "They're...clinging."

Snafu grins and gestures for Eugene to step closer. With his cigarette hanging out his mouth, Snafu concentrates whole-heartedly on helping stuff Eugene back into his uncomfortably wet slacks.

"I'm gonna be cold for hours," Eugene says mournfully.

"S'why we should stay here," Snafu comments and gestures at him, "C'mere I'll help keep you warm."

Eugene smiles sardonically at him and lets Snafu drape his arms around Eugene's shoulders.

Snafu smokes, and lets the breeze carry it away out of the train.

Eugene reclines into Snafu's arms - his bare back against Snafu's bare chest. Eugene doesn't smoke with Snafu, but he does reach over for Snafu's free hand and starts picking at Snafu's fingernails. Once Gene finishes cleaning the left hand, Snafu obligingly switches his cigarette into that one so Eugene can do the other. Snafu's fingernails have never been so clean.

In the end they hold out their hands to compare.

"Think your nails are nicer than mine," Eugene notes.

"All that milk I don't drink," Snafu jokes.

Eugene takes Snafu's hand in his and kisses his palm.

"Gene, what you said...about stickin around….did you mean it?" Snafu asks quietly, maybe a little skeptically.

Eugene stiffens, like maybe Snafu's question surprised him a little. He turns in Snafu's arms and looks up at him.

Snafu blinks back. He brings his hand holding the cigarette back inside from hanging out the air vent.

Eugene silently gestures for Snafu to come closer.

Snaf balances his cigarette between his lips and carefully eases himself into a precarious crouch on the sink shelf. Fortunately if he falls, he will fall into Eugene. Who will catch him. Hopefully.

Eugene grips Snafu's hips tightly and stares into his face.

Snafu's not sure what he's looking for.

Whatever Gene's looking for, he finds it. He calmly takes the cigarette out of Snafu's mouth, tosses it out the window, and puts his open lips there instead.

Snafu gives himself over to the kiss and lets his butt drop onto the sink. The faucet is a little uncomfortable, but Eugene solves that problem too by shifting his hands underneath Snafu's thighs and lifting him a few inches above the shelf. Once again, Snafu is squished into a corner.

If it were anyone else he'd be nervous, and he'd already be running. Even now, Gene's clothes are so cold and wet that at first Snafu shrinks away from Eugene's hold. But gradually Snafu's skin becomes used to the temperature and when he wraps his legs around Eugene's waist, the heat from their bodies makes the damp bearable.

Snafu wants to stay in this shower cubicle, but he can't think up an excuse for it besides his insatiable thirst for touching Gene. Snafu runs his hands up and down Eugene's arms and asks, "Have I warmed you up yet?"

"Nope, think you had better continue trying…" Gene says and smiles when Snafu draws him into another kiss.

The sky outside the air vent is dark by the time they finally leave the little room. They're driven out by hunger. Eugene's stomach growls incredibly loudly, and they giggle together over how soft they've gone now that they eat three full meals a day.

"Burgie'll never believe me if I tell him your gut is louder than your snore," Snafu says as he helpfully rebuttons Gene's pants and buckles Gene's belt.

Eugene is completely unhelpful in that he refuses to keep his lips off Snafu even for a minute.

"I love you," Gene whispers in Snafu's ear and Snafu worries he's going to turn the words into a new mantra. "Merriell," Eugene sighs as he untucks Snafu's shirt from his pants for the third time that day.

"Gene, we gotta go back," Snafu hastily stuffs his shirt into his pants yet again, without bothering to smooth it.

"Thought you said we could spend the rest of the train ride necking…" Eugene argues and starts unbuttoning the shirt Snafu just buttoned five minutes ago.

"Yeah, in my dream…" Snafu retorts.

"I'm making your dreams come true…"

"Sledgehammer," Snafu finally puts his foot down and pushes Eugene an arm's length away, "We can't stay in here. Burgie's leaving tomorrow."

Eugene stops, and nods, "I know."

"You know?" Snafu mocks.

"Snaf, I…"

"You don't give a shit," Snafu argues, "By this time tomorrow you'll likely never see any of us all together ever again, and you don't care…"

"Snafu, what the hell…"

Snafu elbows Eugene out of the way and forces the door open. He stomps into the sleeper car and down the hall. Eugene catches up to him just as Snafu opens the divider doors.

"Snafu, slow down, I'm coming…!" Eugene says right before Snafu closes the sleeper car door on his face.

Eugene wrenches it open, grabs Snafu's wrist and prevents him from opening the next divider door. They stand there awkwardly, swaying with the train, the tracks especially loud here in the space between cars without any padding to buffer the racket.

"I'm fucking freezing," Eugene shivers at the wind blowing between the cracks and metal joints.

"You stink too," Snafu points out kindly, "Like flowers."

"Snafu, say it," Eugene demands, "Say it, and we can go sit with Burgie for the rest of the way, and I swear I'll be good."

"Why?" Snafu stubbornly asks.

"Because I need…" Eugene braces himself against the moving connector walls.

Snafu pries Eugene's hands off the shifting metal before the dumbass gets his fingers chopped.

"I need reassurance," Eugene admits.

Snafu holds Gene's hands tightly in his own and stares him down. He scowls and keeps his voice as low as possible, "I don't even know what love is, Sledge."

Eugene deflates.

Snafu drops his hands and opens the passenger car door. He walks through and can feel Eugene following him a good step or two behind. Neither of them say much more than a cursory hello to Burgie when they reach their seats.

"How is it you guys look even worse for the wear after going to freshen up?" Burgie asks.

"Shitty shower," Snafu says and slumps in his seat beside Burgie. He props his feet on the cushion across from him.

"No towels, no shampoo, no brush," Eugene says. He glares at Snafu's boots and shifts so he's sitting as far away from them as possible.

"Sledgehammer, why are you wet?" Burgie asks.

"Snafu pushed me into the shower, fully clothed," Eugene deadpans.

"He stunk," Snafu adds.

Neither of them can look Burgie in the eye.

Burgie is Snafu's best friend, and Burgie is leaving. And Snafu can't even tell him about any of this.

The last remaining night and half day is numbing. Eugene still sleeps the soundest when Snafu is there. Gene stretches his legs out as he snores and puts his feet between Snafu's - just to keep some contact. Snafu doesn't sleep. He just watches Gene.

They're all awake, but no one is bright eyed the afternoon the train pulls into Jewett.

Snafu almost feels guilty. Because when he watches Burgie leave, he isn't seeing Burgie, he's seeing Gene. He's going to miss Burgie in a way that will probably be a distant ache the rest of his life. Snafu can imagine living with that ache. He's been through that type of loss before. The real unknown is how in the hell will Snafu miss Sledge.

Burgie never talked about his family much during the war. Snafu once asked him about them. It was in the middle of the fighting back on Gloucester, before Sledge even walked into the picture. And Burgie only shook his head and refused the question. "If I think about them, I'll dream about them. Nightmares where they're dying in my place. It's worse, seeing that, than dying for them myself," Burgie explained. Snafu nodded, knowing Burgie was wise beyond his years. "I don't have that problem," Snafu replied, "Mine are already dead."

Burgie stuck to Snafu like glue after that. They were already friends, in that easy-going way of two people who get along naturally. But Burgie intentionally seemed to keep Snafu a little closer than the other guys. "If my little brother went off to war overseas where I can't protect him, I'd sure as hell hope he'd find someone to take my place for a while," Burgie offered as explanation.

Now Snafu watches Burgie tearfully embrace his real little brother at the train station and Snafu thinks about Eugene's brother, who came home from the European front months ago, who will be in Mobile waiting for Eugene. And about Snafu's baby sister. Who won't be.

These two Marines - Burgie and Sledgehammer - are the two reasons Snafu took himself seriously in this war. When it came down to it, day-to-day, Snafu was never fighting for much other than to preserve the life of the guy next to him. And when it was Burgie and Gene, all that fucked up effort felt worth it. Getting to witness this Burgin family reunion felt worth it.

Now Snafu just has to figure out what to do next.

Sledge claims to have no plans but the truth is Eugene is the kind of person who doesn't even know the meaning of 'no plans'. Eugene organizes every hour of his day, from work detail to meticulously researched cultural experiences. His idea of no plans consists of a financial safety net, parents who will steer him in the proper nuclear family direction, and a whole home full of people who love him.

Snafu glances over at Sledge. Their eyes meet briefly. Snafu is the one to look away.

"She'll come," Eugene says calmly, sure as ever, "It's like you said...it'll take Florence a while to get to Texas. But I'm sure the wait will be worth it."

Snafu clunks his head against the window glass and watches Burgie and his family climb into their dirty old truck - a proper farming truck. "I just said that to make him feel better. I didn't mean it," Snafu mutters.

"Well, I mean it," Eugene says firmly, "I believe it."

Burgie's truck starts driving off as the train picks up steam again. The truck turns onto the frontage road running parallel to the tracks. It almost seems to follow them as the train speeds away.

"You'll probably end up dancing at his wedding," Snafu says sourly.

"Only if you dance with me," Eugene retorts.

"I don't dance with gingers," Snafu complains, "Too hot-footed."

"Have you ever even danced with a redhead?" Eugene scoffs.

"No, but I've seen almost all of those Ginger Rogers movies…" Snafu replies.

"She doesn't even have red hair!" Eugene exclaims, incredulous.

"But she sure as hell can lift her feet," Snafu argues, "Wear a guy out, just watching her."

"You won't dance with me?" Eugene sounds crushed.

Snafu ignores the question and cranes his neck to keep his eye on the truck driving down the road. It's falling behind the train now, unable to keep up with the speed. Soon all Snafu will be able to see is a cloud of dust where his best friend should be. At least it's not a heap of mud.

Snafu remembers the first day he met Burgie in bootcamp. They were assigned as bunk mates, so when rotation happened no matter where they were sleeping - in a tent, on the open ground, barracks, whatever - they stayed together. Snafu had been so blown away by Burgie's sharp eyes, and his stocky compact beautifully built frame, that Snafu had announced to the man point blank, "If you weren't so goddamn straight, I'd be way into you." And Burgie's response, a mildly sarcastic, "Pity me" only cemented their friendship.

Snafu thought Burgie was the most impressive person in the world. Till a silly ginger boot walked into his tent on a godforsaken island and turned Snafu's world upside down.

The cloud of dust on the road beside the train becomes a distant haze. Snafu straightens and turns his face forward, only to fall into those same hooded dark eyes that entranced him the first day they met.

"Scoot over," Eugene orders.

"What?" Snafu furrows his brow at him.

"Scoot over, I want the window," Eugene demands.

Snafu does as he's told.

Eugene props his duffle against the window and leans on it. He spreads a blanket over himself and flicks the corner of it at Snafu. It hits Snafu in the face.

"Hey!" Snafu bats it away.

Eugene flicks it back.

"Fuck you, Sledge," Snafu grumbles. He gives in and rests his head on Eugene's shoulder.

"Fuck you too, Shelton," Eugene replies affectionately.

"You already did that," Snafu whispers lowly, only for Eugene to hear.

"Only almost," Eugene corrects.

"Yeah," Snafu admits, "But an inch in almost counts."

"Next time," Eugene assures him, with a devious smile, "When we're not on a rocking train."

"We'll provide the rocking," Snafu agrees, "No train needed."

"And preferably on a comfortable mattress," Eugene adds.

Snafu laughs, "Think I forgot what those even feel like."

"You shouldn't need to complain…" Eugene says and pats his chest where Snafu is leaning.

"You saying you're even more comfortable than a mattress?" Snafu smiles.

"Sure am," Gene says.

Snafu would have to agree. He can think of a million better reasons to be on top of Gene than comfort, though.

Eugene falls asleep because Eugene is Eugene and he can turn himself on or off at will. But Snafu sits there and stirs. His thoughts circle round and round about what he's going to do about the guy cuddled up with him.

The way he sees it there's two options: the Sledge family receives the questionable joy of having Snafu dropped on their doorstep like a stray cat, or Eugene doesn't show up in Mobile at all and everyone hates Snafu for keeping him away. Neither option is particularly appealing to Snafu.

He has to leave. He's not meant to witness Eugene's family reunion. He knows it.

It's like Burgie and his nightmares. If Snafu watches Eugene go back to his family, then that might start to feel more real than Snafu's connection to Sledgehammer. Better to end it on a high note. Stop it here and in Snafu's memory Eugene will stay Snafu's forever.

/~*~/ We all know what happens next, insert lots of angst and sadness as time goes by, I wrote this next goofy part to fix the end and not leave this fic hanging like Snaf did Eugene on the train. /~*~/

A year later Snafu is living in his lonely godforsaken apartment in New Orleans. The shithole is located on the fourth floor next to a copse of palm trees, which is great for feeling like a person is living in a treehouse, but not so great on the knees. All those stairs.

He sits down at his shitty folding table, propped against the window to give him a good view of the sunset as he eats his shitty meals alone, and rattles a few shredded wheat hunks into his cereal bowl. He mournfully pours the milk on top and slaps at the gigantic mass with his spoon. The milk will seep in and eventually the slapping will turn to chipping, and then the damn thing will become edible.

The window's open and there's a light breeze, something Snafu wouldn't normally notice except for what happens next. A parrot swoops in and drops a letter in his cereal.

It's a good thing his shredded wheat hadn't yet passed the chipping stage, because it takes up enough space in the bowl to prevent the letter from getting soaked. Snafu's ruined more than his fair share of correspondence that way on accident. And no one ever believes him when he explains he couldn't respond to the person's letter because a bird soaked it in milk. They never react well to his suggestion that they write in pencil rather than ink either (ink bleeds more when submerged).

Snafu feeds the parrot its well earned treat before he does anything else. Snafu doesn't do stairs, so he trained the parrots nesting in the palm tree outside his window to collect his mail for him. Well, he trained the parrots to collect everybody's mail. Any mail that doesn't belong to him he takes downstairs or leaves in front of his door. He is not popular among his neighbors.

Once the parrot has its treat, Snafu idly pets its head as he rips open the envelope and unfolds the letter. He recognized the writing the minute he saw the name on the envelope. He knows exactly what is coming:

Snafu you goddamn idiot,

Sledgehammer came to my wedding alone. So tell me: what the hell did you do? I told you not to do anything stupid. Sledgehammer is graciously not saying nothing about anything, so I'm writing to you instead. I don't know what's going on in that fool head of yours, but if you think Gene has forgotten you, think again. You of all people know how hard it was for me to risk my pride, and put my heart on the line, and ask Florence to marry me - someone half a world away who she barely just met. But I knew, and I knew she knew, and we built a life on that. I think the least you could do is afford Eugene that same trust. Make it right, Snafu. Or I will drive to New Orleans and drag you to Mobile myself. Kicking and screaming if necessary.

Love, Burgie

Snafu jumps when suddenly his door bangs. The hinges rattle with the force of whoever is knocking. Snafu has a bad premonition about this.

The door bangs again. The person is not giving up.

Snafu sets the letter down on the table and stands. The parrot flies to his shoulder and hops until it presses against his neck. It stretches and picks at Snafu's hair. The parrots always seem to like curls. Snafu swears fifty percent of their nest comes from off his head.

More banging from his door. Snafu is living in a cheap place, he's fairly certain his poor flimsy door can't take much more of this. So he opens it.

An irate redhead stands on the other side.

Eugene's eyes zero in on Snafu's parrot friend, "Of course you have birds delivering your mail for you, you lazy sonofabitch."

Snafu stands stunned.

"I had that letter in my hand," Eugene points to Snafu's table, "All ready to bring it to you personally after driving all the way to New Orleans to do so…" Eugene takes a deep breath, he is panting from climbing all those stairs, "...when suddenly the rare monk parrot I was casually admiring in the palm tree nearby screeched at me holy murder and dove straight for me. I ducked, held my hands up to protect my eyes, and the bird plucked Burgie's letter right out of my grasp. And then," another frustrated breath for emphasis on his next statement, "I watched it fly through your fourth story window."

"There's a lotta steps," Snafu shrugs, "I don't do steps."

"Merriell," Eugene pleads. He's desperate, out of breath, with tired pretty eyes. He's never looked prettier, yet somehow Snafu always knew he was this pretty. He's Eugene - of course he's still pretty.

"Gene," Snafu drawls, and the name feels the same in his mouth as it always did, all that love and affection right at the tip of his tongue.

Eugene storms through the door and wraps his hands around Snafu's head, and kisses him. He dislodges the parrot on Snafu's shoulder in the process. At first the parrot protests with shrieks, till it moves to Eugene's shoulder, and gets a good look at his hair, and then decides to perch inside it.

Eugene ignores the bird. He kicks the door closed and drags Snafu against his body with all his strength. Eugene is softer than he was in the war, and it's a hell of a lot more comfortable to be engulfed by him. Snafu barely pays attention to the kiss, he's too busy touching. He missed Eugene's neck, his hips, his hands.

All these years...Snafu's finally home again. The bird certainly seems to be making itself at home too - in Eugene's hair. Snafu supposes the parrots must be partial to gingers. He sympathizes.

Snafu starts pulling at Eugene's clothes, trying to drag him further into the room.

"Uhhh, Snaf?" Eugene asks.

"Yeah?" Snafu freezes, his nerves on edge.

"Will the bird stay in my hair...the whole time…?"

Snafu stares at Gene. "You don't like the parrot?"

Eugene backtracks quickly. "Not that I don't appreciate the beauty of being able to observe such a rare species up close…"

Snafu smirks, "Pulling your leg, Sledgehammer." He lets go of Gene and beckons for him to follow. "C'mon, this is a one bedroom. If we feed the parrot a treat and go running into the bedroom it'll be too distracted to follow."

Eugene holds open the bedroom door while Snafu prepares a handful of treats. The parrot knows what's coming. It picks up the already opened envelope and cocks its head beguilingly.

"Looks like you when you want something from me," Eugene observes from a distance.

"Shut up, Gene," Snafu says. He tactfully apologizes to the bird for not being able to give it the attention it deserves right now, but if it will humbly accept his offer of a treat, Snafu would be so grateful.

"Talking to birds now?" Eugene asks, "When did that start? Before or after you broke my heart?"

"Gene, I swear to god I will throw this treat into the bedroom, let the bird follow, push you in, and lock you both there," Snafu snaps.

"More time to study the creature," Eugene counters. He pulls a notebook from his pocket and waggles it at Snafu.

Snafu carefully drops the treat on the plate, and then runs for Eugene, yelling, "Go, go go!" Snafu dives through the bedroom doorway and lands on his bed.

Eugene calmly steps in behind him and shuts the door. "I think you've gone a little crazy," he commented as he climbs onto the bed beside Snafu.

"Loneliness'll do that to a guy," Snafu says with his arms lazily behind his head, looking for all the world like he wasn't fleeing from a parrot five seconds ago.

Eugene lays alongside him and places his hand on Snafu's cheek. "Are you even going to apologize?" he asks.

"I love you," Snafu says instead.

Eugene groans and tips his whole body into Snafu's. They interlock together like puzzle pieces, and Eugene nuzzles his nose against Snafu's neck. "I'd have thought you'd given up on manufacturing chaos by now."

"I gave up alcohol, not chaos," Snafu grins, "S'why I talk to birds."

"I haven't slept in months," Eugene sighs.

"You look it," Snafu agrees. He rubs Eugene's back softly. Up and down, in a soothing manner. Every time his hand slides along Eugene's spine is a treat. Another reassurance that Eugene is alive, and well, and here.

Gene moans and turns his head into the pillow to block out the light.

"The only food I got in the house is shredded wheat and parrot treats, so if you're planning to stay we oughta go to the store before we go to sleep," Snafu comments.

Eugene snores deeply.

#sledgefu #bad germs #happy friday

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