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writeshite · 2 years ago

Note

Arthur Curry deserves more love, so in the spirit of that I have a request for him lol-

Male!Reader is an Atlantean with siren-like abilities, who mostly uses them to charm people into giving them pretty things. Reader gets hired to steal Arthur's Trident, but sees Arthur for the first time and is immediately "yes I want all of that". He steals the Trident anyway, but only so Arthur will chase him to a more secluded area, where Reader starts seducing him.

Arthur's somewhat baffled at first because that isn't where he thought this encounter was going (he was kinda expecting a brawl) but he rolls with it, realising he might have a thing for sexy thieves-

Siren's Song

Summary:

“That’s mine,” he simply states. “Let go, and you can swim away.” You chuckle, “Oh, I don’t think so; we’ve barely had any fun,” you say, “Let go.”

Pairings:

Arthur Curry x Male Reader

Tags:

Atlantean Reader | Reader Has Siren-Like Abilities | Thief Reader | Minor Flirting

Words: 1593

Author's Note:

It is my belief, that we as a society would benefit more from Arthur Curry fanfic.

Atlanteans swam by, eyes glazing over you as they would shadow; your silent whispers drifted through the waters; around you, they wove a bubble - shrouding you from the common fishfolk. A few people turned to follow your calm voice, hands held out ready to give, but you waved them away, leaving a few stunted in the currents. Others actively avoid you as well, instincts no doubt screaming of your unseen threat passing by - the crowds in Atlantis were dense, annoying for now, but later on, would serve an advantage. The palace guards were easy to sneak by, but the sharks that accompanied them nearly gave you away, heads swiveling when you snuck by.

Your garb of clothing shifted with the tide, light bouncing off to mimic the colors around you; a dark sash held the thieving accessories to your person as a hood lay over your head. No insignia, no allegiance.

Once inside the palace, your whispers became low hums, easier to maintain as they became background noise to the palace staff. A rhyme you’d heard the surface dwellers often sing to their children, it had the same effect, calming, lulling those around you into a state of indifference - with the high halls of the palace, it echoed. Still, entering the throne room, hidden behind others, you switched tactics. The throne room was brightly lit, with nowhere to hide; any sudden movements would break the spell, and your target - the royal trident stood out in its golden glory, you turned to survey the king, and your humming cut off momentarily.

The monarchy had never been of any interest to you, but you’d love to spark an interest in them now. The king sat on his throne, head, on one hand, legs spread as the other hand lay on the throne’s arm. The trident was set by him, leaning against the throne, as he listened to the merfolk who spoke before him. You swam carefully, strokes slow; the Xebel princess, Mera, was beside him; her gaze would drift ever so often, and you’d still, voice dropping low to conceal yourself further. The closer you got, the slower your movements became; you briefly turned to the top of the room, and a carving looked down at you; its features of it were hollow, big enough for you to squeeze through if you timed your exit right. While the founding of Atlantis looked wonderful, you’d admire it later - you stopped once in arm’s reach of the trident. The left of your sash held a chain of glass orbs, dark like squid ink; they were cold to the touch; you unlinked them, releasing each one carefully. Free, the ink inside began to change, the dark shade giving way to other colors; like a tilefish, it stood out, drawing attention, colors flashing rapidly before the glass broke—shards spinning through the current and color shrouding the room. You held your breath as the others in the room coughed, the ink slid off you, and you grabbed the trident; the king turned in time to see you, surprised he was, you winked and sped off.

You push off the roof outside, falling into the crowd; they part at the sight of the trident, you hear the palace doors slam open and a cry, your pursuers follow, but you throw more of your traps at them. Glass smashes into one of the guards, and he topples, knocking others and slowing them down, once past the city, you descend beneath the bridge, once past the gate to Atlantis, it’s a free ocean.

“Shame the king won’t see me off,” you jest to yourself. Perhaps too soon, as a voice calls out, you look back, and there he is; you grin. Though he doesn’t return the gesture, you find the chase entertaining. Some paces behind him are guards, the fish that accompany them swim faster, and you spiral around them when they pass you. They turn and swim back, you point the trident ahead, and they swim away, nothing happens, but they are careful not to risk it. The open ocean melds into a kelp forest; past that is the old shipwreck - your shipwreck - you move down. The bottom of the kelp forest is far easier to navigate, and having done so multiple times, it’s easier for you.

You strap the trident to your back and fish through your pockets, sharpened coral in your hands; you throw them, pulling them back by the string on the ends. They curve in an arc around you, causing the pursuers to back off; you allow an opening for the king, he takes it, and you grin. “My, my, persistent,” you remark.

He reaches out his hand; the trident comes to life; you feel the pull and grab it before it can fly back to him. It doesn’t stop moving, and you tut, “That’s cheating.”

“That’s mine,” he simply states. “Let go, and you can swim away.”

You chuckle, “Oh, I don’t think so; we’ve barely had any fun,” you say, “Let go.” He freezes, hand lowering hesitantly. Although temporary, you turn away; the forest gives way to the shipwreck.

The shipwreck is massive; in no man’s lands, no kingdom would claim it; the stories of curses and the wrath of Poseidon keep your hideout safe. Although you hope the king hasn’t had the time to learn of the ocean’s tales, it’d be a shame for this to end so soon.

Arthur’s hair is soaked in the weird shit that had burst in the palace; he hadn’t even known what was happening until Mera had yelled, “Intruder.”

He’d turned and seen the water part, a hooded face, and a wink; then, his trident was gone. The thief swam fast towards the top; he’d followed suit, the guards that hadn’t been affected by the distraction behind him. You’d dove into the crowd; trident held close; Arthur hesitated to summon it back to his side; with the people around you, he feared hurting them, so he resorted to waiting. The palace doors slam open, and more guards join, though it’s no use as you throw more glass at them, waters now decorated in color. Not even the bridge deters you - your indignity is impressive.

“Hey!”

You turn back to him, face now uncovered, and a broad smile on your face. Nothing seems to halt you; you use the trident to deter any fish that he commands. The open ocean doesn’t last long; the kelp forest that emerges is grand - stretching across miles, you swim unbothered by it. The weapon you use pushes him back; it grazes his cheek, almost drawing blood - Arthur is tired of the games, so he forgoes any hesitation; if the trident gets caught in the kelp, then so be it; he’ll still get it back. You are persistent in keeping it, though, “That’s cheating,” you tut.

Arthur tries not to roll his eyes, “That’s mine,” he pulls at it again, and you struggle to haul it back. “Let go, and you can swim away,” he offers.

When you speak again, it’s different. All at once, the water grows cold, and his mind goes numb, “Let go.” He doesn’t want to; he attempts to shake his head, but nothing happens, and his hand lowers slowly, following the order. “That’s it.” You coo, eyes shining like pearls in the ocean, “Let go.”

You turn away, and he watches. When the trance falls, his mind is adrift, and he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. An enormous shipwreck greets him at the edge of the kelp forest; some look old, others new, but regardless of age, they sit on the ocean floor, alone, devoid of sea life. The golden glint of his trident fades into the torn hull of a ship. It’s massive, grey paint rusting, and metal peeling away - a laugh echoes, “Don’t be shy.”

The guards, having caught up, stop beside him; they hesitate, holding a hand to prevent him from going forward. “That’s Poseidon’s Wreck, sire,” one says. When Arthur just looks at him, he elaborates, “only the desperate swim these waters.”

“My trident —”

“ —May be lost; we should return; wait until a smuggler bargains back for it.”

Arthur scoffs, pushing the guard aside, “You can head back if you want; I’m not leaving without my trident.” And seeing the thief up close, he doesn’t say. He dives into the wreck; there’s a shift in the atmosphere; he can barely hear whatever the guards say to him; the water feels thick, and the current is still. The creaks are loud, bouncing off each other, and the laugh sounds again. It drags him in, pulling at his mind.

Your eyes shine in the darkness of the ship, colors swirling in them; you call out to him. The darkness swallows him, and he reaches out, not for the trident - his mind buzzes too much for that - his hand brushes against something, your hand, he thinks. The trident's glow is little but enough for him to see you; you hold one of his hands, your other hand brushing against his cheek. “Foolish king,” you say, “following me into the wreck.”

He blinks, and your face is closer, “Oh, you really are lost, aren’t you?”

He nods, then his hands are wrapped around something, his trident is familiar in his hands, “Wait….”

You’d turned around, but Arthur wasn’t ready to leave. “Sshh,” you place a finger on his lips, his eyes droop, he blinks, and he’s by the kelp forest again, the fading sound of your laughter around him.

End Note:

No thoughts, only Arthur. Stay Hydrated.

#arthur curry x male reader #arthur curry x reader #dceu imagine #shiterequests

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muutosarchive · 2 years ago

Note

grandiose gesture had sent them all away. all the prying eyes, & the whispering lips. judging, judging, all of them. disgustoso! burrows under his painted skin, standing with sister imperator to watch the descending chaos. Oh, piccola angolazione! how little do you know, of the earth. the devil below was once like you. cast out from the heavens. & now, the era of deus in absentia is upon them. absence of god. meliora either left in the past, or on the horizon. she will learn, in time. he hadn't asked for his reign, just as she did not ask to be cast down by her maker. though he will show her that what she truly needs isn't the light.

like the man who will one day succeed him, he is more imposing behind the greasepaint. hollow eyes piercing, carrying any emotion that he so desires. well aware of how it comes across - how much weight each shift of his expression carries, like ones & zeros. can play common people like fiddles, if he has half the mind. the way that he speaks, the way that he tucks rebel strands behind his ear. everything has its cause, & affect. must reel himself in, lest he is providing the wrong sort of care. though regardless, he knows exactly what will ensnare her. even a heavenly being. feminine, like a flower. the whitest of water lilies. & if there is one thing he knows, it is that he must have her. press her between the pages of his book, to preserve her beauty. together they will usher in the world prophesied.

he looks into her eyes. slightly lidded himself, as though he were unfazed by the events of the day. quite strange, indeed. warm, alluring. with the softest of smiles on his plush lips. yet with her consent, he shuffles closer with a curt nod of acknowledgement. raising a fanned sleeve, & gesturing her beneath. corner of his lip quirking further, at that. " -- no, mia cara. i do not think of myself, like that." he places his other arms around her, with a flourish of gold & violet. covering her nude form, with lengthy fabric. "for the sake of modesty." [...] "come." he tells her, nodding again before tightening his arms & beginning to sway. lumbering, in his position. eyes front, with his neck rotating slowly. subtly. looking out for any unwelcome attention. eventually picking up the conversation. "i like to think of myself as more of a modern gentleman, if not a man of faith." he tells her. voice becoming low & raspy, at the tail. door creaking open to the lowly lit foyer. each slow, practiced step pushes long feet from the bottom of self-designed vestments. "but enough of this blasphemy, tesoro. next to you, i am less than uninteresting." his hands are linked together, at the front of her chest. acting as a tie, for her coverings. "tell me... why have the heavens blessed unworthy earth dwellers such as ourselves, with this regalo speciale?"

to be left alone is what she deserves right now. not even god wanted her so who would. soot and destruction left in her wake, looking upon bloodied hands as nude as the day she was created before given her white uniform she wore with pride until he cast her out. what is she to do now ? she doesn't know what to do. feeling the strange sense of loss for the first time in her life. her mind quiet, the buzz of all those she considered siblings gone. she's truly alone. and how she gets choked up doesn't help. though the painted figure offers himself, an elbow. and cirice looks up to him, tear stained face still contorted in pain.

it's almost as though she were wondering if she should take his arm. though quickly decides she will and therefore locking her newfound fate. for the fallen angel, she's determined to get back into her god's good graces, for he will take her back right ? he gives all of his children multiple chances, though why didn't he with me the thought quickly comes. brown eyes come to catch mismatched ones, looking into both for a moment. ' grazie mille. ' not even thinking of the language change. as she comes to stand, there's little covering her hair barely reaching her breasts for natural cover like in film. ' i — hope you know, you are not a beast. or think of yourself in such a way. '

#chrchgrl #papa emeritus iii * / in character #papa emeritus iii 001 * / deus in absentia

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never-never-land · 3 years ago

Note

Do any of the ROs speak another language?

Peter Pan: He knows a few words in varying languages (like Spanish, Italian, German, etc). But I wouldn’t say that he can fluently speak them. He’s just picked them up on his various trips to the Main Land.

James/Jasmine: Was actually tutored in multiple foreign languages (what good it does them now). They’re fluent in the most languages out of all the ROs and enjoy writing various notes in random languages they know. As it confuses Smee.

Tinkerbell: I imagine that the Fairies of Pixie Hollow have their own language; so I’d definitely say that Tink is fluent in that. Any Main Land languages? I could see French being one.

Lyra: Atlantian; the native tongue of her home. She’s also fluent in the common tongue of the land dwellers (English).

Hunter: Never Land has its own dialect/vocabulary for some things. Hunter is well versed in them (as is Peter) but he doesn’t know any Main Land languages. Only what he’s overheard from Peter or Tink.

#return to never never land #peter pan #james hook #jasmine hook #tinkerbell #lyra #hunter #anonymous #asks #ask #other languages

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rinusagitora · 2 years ago

Text

The changing of the tides.

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Karin Kurosaki, Yuzu Kurosaki, Ichigo Kurosaki, Renji Abarai, Izuru Kira, Shuuhei Hisagi, Akon, Shuukurou Tsukishima, Momo Hinamori, Toushirou Hitsugaya

Words: 5.8k

Summary: Merpeople!AU. WARNINGS- recreational drug use, major character death, cosmic horror; The end is foretold by the disappearance of the sea serpents.

A/N: Written for @thewhisperingdeep fanzine.

AO3: works/41955684

Gargantuan serpents have ruled the ocean for as long as life has made their home in its waters. Generations pass and they remain until conquest claims them and recycles their flesh as food and bones as shelter and tools for the masses.

The natural order is venerated as a result. Birth, life, reproduction, death, consumption. All things outside the cycle, that which is unnatural, are calamitous and loathsome. Ruins, masses of hollow and angular planes dotting the ocean bottom, are omens of devastation. Alien artifacts found are destroyed by magicians or given a wide berth so they do not pollute the order worshipped by ocean-dwellers.

The end is foretold by the disappearance of the sea serpents, where nothing is behind to repurpose, and there are no rulers to command the denizens of the seas.

---

Karin only dreamt when she was ill. She was healthy, so they came few and far between as a result.

She was made by her companions to hole up in their father’s home to recuperate once they noticed the severity of her delirium. Disorientation and indolence. But Karin hated caves, even when she lived there as a child. Even if it had enough space to fit their enormous bodies, it was too tight of a squeeze for her to feel comfortable. She always pictured the walls giving in and the rubble crushing her.

The seaweed bed made for her was destroyed while she thrashed in her sleep, haunted by terrible images of blinding lights and bellies unzipping. Of water clouded with blood and intestines until even the most piercing luminescence was smothered by its density.

Her eyes opened to her father shaking her. Karin breathed a sigh of relief to be free of terrible hallucinations.

Yuzu was more youthful, despite being her twin. It was because she didn’t chew kanakusa, psychoactive seaweed digested by sharks then preserved in brine pools. She inherited their mother’s fairness, with pale hair and red tendrils, unlike Karin, who inherited their father’s darkness. Black hair, black bell, black tendrils. Yuzu glowed through the darkness while Karin disappeared into it. It sometimes made Karin jealous, until she remembered she inherited her mother’s fury and passion. Her emotional likeness was better than her physical likeness.

When their mother Masaki was murdered, her body fed Karin, Yuzu, and their brother Ichigo until they bloated. It was a common ordeal, but it gave Karin mixed feelings into the present. The grief over never seeing their mother again, the bliss from absorbing her essence. They kept her bones. Karin wove Masaki’s teeth in her hair and Yuzu shaved Masaki’s ribs into jewelry, like beautiful talons.

Karin absorbed Masaki’s odd dreams with her flesh. Witches called them premonitions, but they were always so cryptic. She wasn't smart enough to decipher them. Karin didn't classify herself as a witch for that very reason. Witches solved riddles, while the rest of them scratched their heads like buffoons.

She rubbed her eyes after blearily taking in Yuzu. She then glanced around the cavern. Their kind traveled with at least one companion, oftentimes unremarkable that used their enormous bodies as shelter in exchange for companionship in the lonely ocean. “Where are my marrer?” she croaked.

Yuzu pet her hair. “Outside.” Even though she was comforting, Karin sensed her disquiet.

“What has you unsettled?”

“Ichigo and Renji are outside as well… they want a word with you.”

Ichigo’s visitations were a welcome change of pace. He was swamped with errands since he began serving the serpents. Karin only saw him from afar and never long enough to flag him down before he disappeared into dark waters. Social calls were non-existent. He only wanted to see her for whatever schemes the serpents had in motion.

Karin respected the serpents a great deal. They took care of herself and her sibling after Masaki was murdered. The serpents she met, Toushirou and Shinji, were compassionate. But she feared them. The magnitude and their influence and sheer power made her feel small and scared. The ocean was their possession, and they could bring its end with a flick of their tails if they so desired. She gave them a wide berth as best as she could.

She lifted herself out of the ruined bed. “I’ll see what they want.”

Karin’s companions loitered in the mouth of the cave. Kei’s lips were downturned and worried. He was always anxious, but Kazuya, Ryohei, and Heita were just as worried as he. Kazuya rubbed his arms hard enough that he shed scales.

“Be calm,” she told them, “I won’t be long.”

Karin saw Ichigo from afar, glowing through the waters due to his paleness. Their father called them phantom jellyfish, enormous beings whose tendrils billowed like ether.

Renji was a shark. He was a fearsome creature, bulging with musculature, fashionable scars, and rows of jagged fangs spanning from his lips down his pallet. But he was friendly. Karin felt like he was a giant pillow or another brother. He teased her and she teased back. He told her stories about the sea serpent he served. Byakuya was covered in mollusks and blooms of colorful coral. Long ago, Renji helped Byakuya crush a terrible sea serpent whose name and body was lost. It was a fierce battle.

Karin was grateful to Renji, too. He introduced Karin to his wife Momo, who became her very best friend. Momo was a witch. Perhaps not the most frightening or revered, but notorious enough that she was feared. She was the lover of the nameless sea serpent. The one who murdered Karin’s mother, and required the teamwork of all the serpents and their thrall to kill. She cursed him so his name was forgotten and his body unusable. The invocation of her vehemence was worse than death. She was kinder than their compatriots made her out to be. Momo kissed her head and showed her fascinating parlor tricks that made Karin feel like the world was wonderful.

Karin hugged Renji, and then Ichigo. Renji pulled a clamshell filled with kanakusa and pressed a wad into Karin’s hand. She chewed it.

“Yuzu told me you were ill. I hope you’re feeling better,” Ichigo said.

“I think I’m over the worst of it now,” she replied and did not elaborate. He didn’t need to know about her awful dream. “Where are Keigo and Mizuiro?”

Keigo and Mizuiro were Ichigo’s companions, the way Kei, Kazuya, Heita, and Ryohei were her companions. They usually accompanied Ichigo for menial tasks, but he left them behind when something serious arose. It put a pit in Karin’s stomach. She nervously clung to Renji to keep her anxieties at bay.

"Karin, we need a favor from you," Ichigo replied.

"Alright."

"I know you befriended Toushirou. We want to know if you've seen him as of late."

Karin shook her head. "Not for some time. My fever lasted for a while. My companions made me rest here, so I haven't seen anyone but them or our sister since I came here."

"How long ago was that?"

Karin spat out a glob of kanakusa. “I don’t know. The fever blurred the passage of time,” she said. “Why are you asking me these questions? Is Toushirou hurt?”

Ichigo and Renji shared a glance and Karin’s heart thumped. Fear washed her like cold waves.

“His thrall haven’t seen him for some time. Not even Rangiku,” Renji said.

Rangiku wasn’t the most reliable thrall to Toushirou, but his most loyal, and most useful. She played a key part in rallying efforts against Momo’s former lover, and the scourge of the ocean. Karin met her many times and each was memorable, rife with hallucinogens, alien oceanscapes, and mischief. She always made Karin feel acknowledged. It was, perhaps, the most useful skill to have in peacetime.

It was worrisome that she, of all people, who got along with everyone, hadn’t seen him.

Karin’s father told her about the prophecies when she was younger. The end came when their rulers vanished without a trace. No bodies behind to reuse, but horrific vanishment, with only their memory remaining. The ocean decayed in their absence.

Karin crossed her arms. “Have you spoken with Momo? She should be able to conjure something to hunt for him.”

Ichigo shook his head. “We haven’t. We were hoping this wouldn’t escalate to necessitate magic.”

“I’ll assist the search, then.” Karin had a few tricks she could use to locate Toushirou. Friendship with Momo gave Karin access to horrible creatures worse than she. Creatures with reach that spanned the ocean, networks larger than even the most mammoth serpent. Ones Ichigo and Renji refused to associate with when the circumstances permitted it.

Renji squeezed her. “If you find him, go to Momo. She has the means to contact us,” he told her. She nodded.

***

Karin gathered Kazuya, Kei, Heita, and Ryohei, and left for the open ocean.

“Where do you plan on starting the search?” Kazuya asked as they swam.

“With friends,” Karin said.

Their brethren were too fearful of the terrible things in the ocean. That which was unnatural was abhorrent, but the definition of natural was often narrow by those outside the magical class. It was why witches were feared. But those ostracized except in the direst of times were often the most useful. And the ones Karin most easily befriended.

Shuuhei and Izuru were Momo’s husbands, like Renji was her husband. They weren’t witches but incredible in their own right. Attuned to the pulse of the ocean, like the ocean was their pulse. Karin didn’t understand what the ocean’s pulse was, but they found it at the bottom of the deepest valley, and it connected them with the ocean and everything in it. They would know where to find Toushirou, or where to start, once they tapped into it.

They steadily descended. Karin felt like she was being squeezed and rung out, like how they processed kanakusa. The appearance of her companions warped. Shrunk and flattened.

The only denizens at those depths were serpents, shrimp, and mollusks. Karin felt like she was breathing stones. Heita burped bile and blood. Kazuya clutched his chest. He gasped, “I cannot continue! I feel myself collapsing. Dying!”

Karin stopped. “Ascend,” she ordered. “I’ll return once I finish.”

Kazuya, Kei, Ryohei, and Heita shared a glance before they nodded and retreated. How they accomplished nonverbal communication was a mystery to Karin.

The well-being of her companions was her responsibility. They needed her for shelter and fed off her scraps. As badly as she needed their company, she’d have no more company if the pressure of the deep made them implode.

It wasn’t much longer before music penetrated her. The pulse was magnified by the drumbeat Shuuhei made from the preserved hide of his and Izuru’s late masters. Their names were Gin and Kaname. Each was as destructive as the serpent whose body and name Momo sought to erase.

The drumbeat shook her bones and innards. The kanakusa was kicking in, highlighting the waves and debris in lovely hues of gold. The energy rushing through her head, pumping in her brain and through her veins, was good, even if her insides felt like they filled with blood. It reminded her of the rush sharks experiences as they tore apart smaller fish, and the smug satisfaction lantern fish had when they coaxed their brothers and sisters into their bellies. The mere existence was magical. Thrilling. The water shook her, and it shook with her, and she shook with it. It felt like she was diffusing into the waters. Was it the fabled pulse of the ocean?

Shuuhei and Izuru played in an arena of vents spouting boiling water. A cloud of algae shrouded them, and they played through it, pounding their drugs with their fists so swiftly in the deep, dense water, that they blurred. The vents added an endless melody, a monotonous rumble of rushing, sizzling water.

Her eyes shut as she reveled the enchantment of her bones shaking. But they noticed her, and they stopped playing, and her bones stopped shaking. Her eyes opened and she missed the euphoria.

Shuuhei swept her into a hug. “Hey! It’s been a while. Look at you, you’re gorgeous.”

He was a shark able to throw his jaw out of his skull. He called it distention and a goblin. It made Karin feel good that he owned his unusual appearance. Sometimes she wanted to emulate it and become comfortable with her phantasmagorical qualities when, according to him, the alternative was wallowing in misery. He was as much a brother to her as Renji and Ichigo were.

Karin was close to Izuru too. He was gutted years ago on angular ruins and put back together, but he was a miserable bastard long before that. Renji told her a cruel serpent named Gin warped him into a fatalistic and ruthless creature when Karin was born. She was never told what the serpent did to make Izuru calloused. Karin wasn't sure she wanted to know, either, because Momo rendered her serpent nameless and missing. Some things were best left private to not open old wounds.

But Izuru made Karin feel justified in discomfort and anger, and he adored her best friend Momo as her husband. It was hard not to love him.

Izuru played with her hair. He swept it behind her shoulders. “Your hair is longer… it’s beautiful.”

“The shrinkage makes it appear longer than it is,” she replied, smiling as she squeezed their arms. “Unfortunately, I’m not here on a social call.”

Shuuhei raised his eyebrows. “So you say… but you’re high on kanakusa.”

“It’s a long story. And potentially time-sensitive.”

Izuru folded his arms. The dark spots on his skin turned gold before they dimmed. “Is this about Toushirou?”

“No one has laid eyes on him in some time. Not even Rangiku. She, Renji, and Ichigo are in a tizzy trying to find him. I was hoping you two would have feelers out for him,” she told them.

Izuru and Shuuhei shared a side-eye. Even if Karin was buzzed, she knew they were displeased. Neither of them liked Toushirou. They thought he was bratty and ineffective. Karin was sure they would be more than pleased if Toushirou perished. But Karin believed in the prophecies. Moreso, she liked Toushirou. She could cope with his death, but she needed to find him first.

“Truthfully… we haven’t been searching. We haven’t felt anything from the pulse, either.”

“That’s not a good sign,” Karin replied.

Shuuhei shrugged. “It ebbs and flows. It’s not unusual to lose touch, even down here where it’s strongest.”

“But you don’t know where he is?”

“I’m sorry,” Izuru said. And he was. She saw it etched in his face. He was a pleaser. Sought the approval of Momo and his husbands, and those he, at the very least, regarded as allies. “I know someone who may be able to help you, however, if you’re able to tolerate the brine pools.”

Karin asked, “Where kanakusa is processed?”

“No. Mayuri’s territory.”

Her lip curled. “Oh.”

Mayuri was a malicious sea serpent. She refused contact with most of his thrall because most of them were never-do-wells. Karin’s favorites were the never-do-wells, as long as they weren’t Mayuri’s. Mayuri made the very rocks rot and crack. His brine pools were as volatile, burping acid and swarming with indiscriminate predators he employed to guard his secrets.

Shuuhei clasped her shoulder. “I know it isn’t ideal.”

“It isn’t, but I’ll survive,” Karin replied with a gentle smile. “Who am I looking for?”

“His name is Akon. He’s a competent witch, and you will be safe in his care.” Izuru said.

She nodded. She met Akon once before. He was a smarmy and mucosal hagfish. Karin always felt like he wanted to pull out her guts and play with them while she writhed.

But he and Izuru were on good terms. Akon, at the behest of his serpent master Mayuri, was the one who put Izuru’s guts back together after his disembowelment. She wasn’t sure they were friends as much as they were two warped individuals who meshed in the way warped individuals meshed. Feeding off each other’s twisted ways. The difference was that Izuru was endearing. Akon was a fucking degenerate.

The meaning of Toushirou’s disappearance was far bigger than she, however.

“I must leave. Time is of the essence,” Karin said. She hugged Izuru and Shuuhei once more and ascended to meet her companions.

Kei asked, “How was it? Did you find anything useful? Did they find Toushirou?”

“They probably just had an orgy,” Ryohei mumbled.

Karin smacked Ryohei upside his head. He yelped. “There’s no need to be crude,” she said. “But no. Izuru and Shuuhei aren’t able to tap into the pulse now. Izuru gave me another lead, however, so we must go posthaste.”

She swam between them and they flanked her. Heita asked, “I know I’ll regret asking, but where are we going?”

“A servant of Mayuri will be able to help us locate Toushirou.”

Heita groaned. “Of course.”

“That’s why you don’t ask questions,” Ryohei told him.

***

The brine pools Mayuri’s servants populated were as alien as Karin remembered them being. Rangiku took her once. She met Akon. They got high on kanakusa, and Akon made Karin feel like parasites crawled over her.

The waters were noxious there. Karin’s throat itched and it felt like her skull was swollen. Kei, Kazuya, Heita, and Ryohei hid in her bell, hoping her tendrils would circulate breathable water, but it didn’t save them from the rash of saline water. Kei coughed and scratched his eyes. She was tempted to tell them to head back to the cave she was made to recuperate in, but couldn’t muster the words. How anyone tolerated that climate was puzzling.

It was rare to see inside any cave from afar. But Akon’s home glowed with shelves of luminescent fungi. It was stale inside but lived in. Karin collected her tendrils to keep from knocking over scrolls Akon fashioned out of hide.

Akon mashed a concoction of ingredients Karin didn’t recognize. He didn’t notice them until Karin called him by name.

“Akon, Izuru sent me here.” She hoped Izuru’s name would keep him from dissecting her.

He glanced up and flexed his jaw. It spanned from his face to his chest, filled jagged and teeth he chipped from gnawing flesh off bones.

He, at least, didn’t require pleasantries. “What for?”

“We’re searching for Toushirou. He’s missing.”

“Serpents are difficult to locate by nature.”

“No, he’s missing. Rangiku doesn’t know where he is. Several of Byakuya’s thrall are searching for him, as well.”

Akon frowned. “That is troublesome.”

“We were hoping you would be able to utilize your magic to locate him,” she said.

Akon rolled his shoulders. He hummed. “I can. But I need something from you.”

“Will it help find Toushirou?”

“No, but I’ll help find Toushirou when it’s finished,” he said.

Karin frowned. She should’ve seen something like that coming. Akon was a selfish person, and favors were his currency. She didn’t want to be his gopher or experiment, but Karin needed to hear him out.

“Mayuri requires golden bones from the Ruins,” he said, “he saw them glinting through a hole in the ruins and wants them harvested.”

The Ruins were a strange, angular structure that sank before Karin was born. Ocean-dwellers gave it a wide berth because it was the zenith of the unnatural they feared and reviled. Karin saw it from afar once, and they ran. It emitted death. The very image inspired horror, it made Karin’s guts bubble with anxiety. She wasn’t thrilled to run errands for Akon, but having to search the Ruins was the absolute worst.

“Fine,” she replied. “I’ll fetch the bones for you. But I want nothing to do with Mayuri.” She didn’t want to be the thrall of the serpents, especially Mayuri’s.

“Bring them to me, and I’ll give you his location.” Akon’s eyes turned into crescents like he was smiling. “I’ll see you soon, Karin.”

She hoped she returned alive.

Without another word, Karin flipped around and returned to the dark ocean. Her companions freed themselves once they were away from the toxic brine pools.

Kazuya asked, “Are you okay?”

“It was a short exchange. We have that to be grateful for,” Karin said.

The Ruins weren’t far from Mayuri’s brine pools. In the darkness, its shape emerged through the darkness. Flat, angular planes. Shrimp didn’t occupy it, and there wasn’t a hint of barnacles on its surfaces. A bubble of vacancy entombed it. It didn’t even stink of death. Death, a natural part of life, was accepted and grieved. The complete vacancy was unnatural.

Momo told her the Ruins appeared one day. It was long before even her father’s time. The serpent Momo now served, Shinji, a long crab with pincers able to snap whales in half, told Karin of the day it sank. It barreled to the seafloor like a curse from the beyond and kicked up a cloud for ages. When the silt cleared, the serpents and witches condemned it. No one has touched it since. Certainly not Karin.

Approaching it, she felt like she was in trouble. Like she betrayed Momo and her loved ones. Karin swallowed bile.

She and her companions circled the exterior. They peered in through round holes, even in shape and equidistant, except when long openings punctuated the exterior with thick flaps waving in the tide.

Karin held the flap open. She peered in and frowned. “Stay here for the time being. It’s too tight to fit all five of us.”

Kei hugged his sides. “In, out, I don’t want to be anywhere near here.”

Karin pulled her tendrils over her arms and swam in. Maneuvering inside posed a challenge. She was too large to swim the pathways as she swam through the open ocean, so Karin pulled herself through it with her hands.

It wasn’t a long expedition. A skeleton with a split tail was tangled around a rod. Their teeth glittered gold. She had never seen ocean-dwellers with golden teeth before. When their teeth chipped they either waited for a new one to grow in or lived with it and pureed food between stones if the situation called for it. Their teeth yellowed or grew malformed, but never gold. It was unnatural and foul.

She pried them out with her fingers. They cramped unmercifully until she held the golden ones in her palms.

“What a coincidence,” she heard from behind her. Karin twisted while her heart seized, and she snarled when she saw who addressed her.

His name was Shuukurou, a spiny oarfish. He once conned them into thinking he was their family’s friend and then attempted to take Ichigo’s life. His execution was ordered by the serpent Byakuya but he vanished before it could be carried out.

She wasn’t surprised that a contemptible ocean-dweller like him made his home in the Ruins. She would make it his grave.

“Look who it is… what imbecile would reveal himself to me?” Karin hissed. “Me, who shall celebrate your demise at my hands?”

He glanced at the bones, and then at her. “You’ve taken my treasure, haven’t you?”

“Like you tried to take my brother’s life?” Karin felt like she was boiling in her rage.

His eyes narrowed. “You’ll succeed the same as I succeeded: not at all.”

Karin was good in a fight. It was how she sustained herself. Phantoms didn’t have fancy tricks like luminescence or camouflage, so they relied on brute strength to catch and consume prey. Her family was famous for their combat efficiency.

When Shuukurou lunged, she caught him by his jaws. He thrashed and tried to snap his teeth to skin her, but wasn’t able to free himself from her grapple. As she held Shuukurou at bay, she cocooned him in her tendrils, coiling until they overlapped, and she squeezed him. A howl of rage and agony ripped from his throat. Still, Karin squeezed and pushed his jaw open. It dislocated with a satisfying crack. As his organs collapsed, blood gushed into her face from his throat.

She yelped. Shuukurou dug his thumbs into her eyes and she screamed. Her tendrils loosened and he slipped free. His fangs plunged into her arm. She screeched unholily. Blindly, she thrashed her arms and tendrils until they found purchase. Karin curled her fists around the crest sprouting from his head. She yanked him towards her and held his head in her biceps. Shuukurou writhed. He pounded his fist against her biceps. He scratched and spat, to no avail. Karin loathed him. She wanted him dead and would squeeze the life out of him to do so.

His struggle died out. Karin, through a haze of blood and scratches, saw his mouth gape and his eyes bulge. She pushed him away and counted the gold dots clasped in her hand. Karin held onto all of them.

Karin pushed his corpse away and found her way outside. Her sight was returning, although her eyes still stung. Kei caught her arm.

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asked. “You’re covered in scratches.”

She rubbed her eyelids. “All that matters is it’s over. Let’s get these back to Akon.”

***

The return trip was shorter somehow. Compared to the Ruins, the brine pools were less eerie. Karin gave Akon the golden bones, and he turned them in his fingers.

“These are magnificent,” he cooed. His praise made her skin crawl, and she rubbed her arms to brush off the bugs. “Solid gold. I’m amazed by how pure they are.”

“Just tell me where to find Toushirou,” Karin said.

Akon gave her a wad of herbs. “Chew this. You’ll be given visions of his location, and the aftereffects will serve as a map to his location."

Karin wordlessly chewed it. The herbs were sour and it made her face pucker.

The effects were immediate. Karin groaned as she was overtaken by images. Momo's red tentacles swirled as she strummed a strange, fibrous instrument with a fat, hollow back. The strings she played sour notes and billowed crimson and cerulean, the most vivid colors Karin ever saw, and they mixed into gorgeous violet. While her sour notes played, frames of her weeping and stirring herbs in her mantle flashed before Karin, splitting into red and blue hues before reconverging into a cohesive image.

Karin emerged from the hallucination with a chill. She wanted to throw something through Akon's head, something to pummel him to a pulpy mess of shattered bones and lumps of blood.

True to his word, though, the water illuminated orange. It twinkled in the water, shook with the currents like an eel.

It wasn't Akon's fault her vision didn't yield Toushirou's location. It wasn't encouraging, however. Had he been spirited away, as the prophecies predicted? Were they inaugurating their extinction through their search for Toushirou? Was he altogether dead, and Akon's magic unable to locate the remains?

Karin felt especially urgent. The beacon pointed towards Momo. She needed to leave.

"Thank you, Akon. I need to leave."

"Yes, yes," he said monotonously, waving her out, "you must ensure life as we know it isn't ending. Best of luck."

Karin swam into the open ocean, following the trail of orange waves that guided her to Momo. There was a pit in her gut. She didn't dare tell Kei, Kazuya, Heita, and Ryohei about her vision, however. They would leave her in a heartbeat.

***

Karin was malaised for the entire trek. Her worries were disorienting like she was being spun. It made her taste bile.

Momo was feared because she made her lover's name and body disappear and was reviled because of her home. An odd, angular body fell into the ocean and spilled horrid-tasting ink. It was unnatural and feared for that reason. Momo ripped apart the planes and shaped them into a home.

Karin didn't understand why Momo would do something so ominous. Anyone betrayed as she was, though, couldn't be well emotionally. Perhaps it was easier for Momo to steer into repugnance.

Her home appeared in the distance, highlighted in an orange aura. The rumble of water stopped, and Karin glanced back. Her companions were frozen in the water with their gazes focused on their tails. She frowned.

"What's on your mind?"

"Karin, he isn't here," Heita said, "and if he is, he isn't living."

She stared back. "What the fuck are saying." It wasn't a question because she knew what he was saying. What Kei, Kazuya, and Ryohei were thinking: Momo slew a serpent. That she was mad and harbinger of death.

Heita grimaced. "I'm just… I'm just saying that Momo has a history of doing awful things to serpents."

Rage filled Karin. "You stupid fucking fish!" she bellowed. Her tendrils swarmed him. "How dare you compare this to the schemes of that awful serpent!"

"Look at her home, Karin! We have heard the stories. The horrors these unnatural things do to us and our monarchs! She lives in an omen!"

"Leave my sight before I kill you," she bellowed. The water shook like vents boiled it and she smelled urine. But they escaped as fast as their tails could carry them.

She was hurt and betrayed. It was an open wound in her ribs. But time was of the essence, so Karin didn't have the time to grieve. She turned towards Momo's home before their silhouettes were consumed by darkness.

Momo was fraught. Before Karin was even through the entrance, she heard bowls and shells clatter. She saw fungi, the pleated skin of trilobites, and whale teeth thrown into a mortar. Momo chewed kanakusa. Shreds floated from her open mouth.

Karin knew nothing about magic, but her mentor's mania couldn't be anything good.

"Momo," Karin said. She yelped and flipped around. Her hand pressed against her hand.

"Good god, Karin, you can't sneak up on me like that!" she snapped.

"It's an emergency."

Momo shook her head. She bawled. "I know! I know, I'm sorry. I woke up with a terrible feeling but none of my spells have found him!"

"Is he dead?" Karin whispered. Her voice shook anyway.

"I don't know. This concoction is… is my last chance. If it doesn't work, there's nothing I can do! There's nothing I can do, and it's my fault that the ocean will die."

Karin took Momo's hands. Their eyes met, Momo wild and fearful. Their tentacles interlocked. "We should do it together."

She hesitated, then pulled a wad of algae from her mouth. "Chew on this. I need my drum."

Karin sucked the wad of kanakusa from Momo's fingers. Its juices gushed down her throat, and gold ribbons unfurled in the waves.

Momo's drum hung on the wall. She pulled it off the hook, held it by the rim, and drummed it with the other. Slowly, it penetrated Karin. The pulse of the ocean. She was one with the depths, connected to everything that touched the water.

Momo's concoction billowed crimson ink. Karin's eyes shut as it shrouded them. Visions accosted her. It made her skin prickle and her guts wrap themselves in tight knots.

She saw crests of saltwater crash and foam. A shape as unnatural as The Ruins cut through the water, illuminated by veins of flashing, jagged lights behind it. The air rumbled, not like Shuuhei's music, hypnotic, but cacophonous pops that Karin feared would cause her ears to bleed. The living ruins sent lines of hard rings into the depths where they sank and danced in the waves. She was entangled in them. They cut her to the bone and dragged her to shallow water where she bloated and hemorrhaged until her belly split and spilled her insides.

She saw deaths a hundredfold. Even the mighty sea serpent, Kenpachi, strong enough to make tsunamis and level mountains in the depths, thrashed as terrible weaves caught him and dragged him up.

It was the fucking end.

Her vision cleared. Karin convulsed, spewing bile into the saltwater. The sensation of her splitting remained. Momo shrouded Karin in a hug, entangling their limbs and squeezing her shoulders. They wept together, and Momo rubbed her arms like a sister or a mother.

"I don't want to die," Karin wheezed, pulling Momo tight around her like a blanket. She pictured her companions' bodies distorting above the water, bloated until they popped, intestines spilling onto unnatural things. Unnatural deaths. "Momo, I don't want to die like that."

"I know. I know," Momo said, holding her tightly. They rocked in the water, stirring it until Karin heard it rumble in her ears.

Momo turned her around and pressed a kiss against her head. She stroked Karin's head, face warped into a woeful grimace. "We could die on our terms before the ocean is razed. I can make it painless."

Karin felt like her chest was collapsing. "What about Ichigo and Yuzu? I can't leave them."

Momo pets her hair. She kisses her head again. "I love you so much, Karin. You're like my sister."

They hugged. "I love you too, Momo." She laid her cheek on her shoulder. "Is this goodbye?"

"I don't want to die like that."

Karin didn't blame her. Momo always wanted a peaceful death. She was going to take poison and fall asleep and rot without a care in the world.

She didn't want to leave Momo as a result. They floated together, suspended in grief and love. Karin held Momo tight and hoped to absorb Momo into her so Karin would never be without her best friend.

Karin left Momo's home. Karin hoped Momo's husbands would find peace somewhere because it left like a graveyard.

***

Karin felt hollow. She didn't feel the waves or the euphoria of kanakusa. Instead, she blindly floated through the ocean.

She stopped. In the depths, she saw shrouds of darkness, like her own tendrils, but giant. "What the fuck?"

She chased after it. Only serpents could be so large, but there were no phantom serpents that she knew of.

It turned to face her. Karin knew, the same way she knew Toushirou was gone, that it was her father. Had he grown into a serpent? Were they grown, and not created?

"Father!" she shouted. "Isshin!"

He swam to her left. She made a beeline for him. "Father! Father, stop!" she screamed. "Please!"

The water rushed past them. Karin froze, remembering the prophecy, of them being lifted into shallow waters, rupturing, and suffocating. A weave tangled her and swept her up. Karin ripped at it, shrieking, but it was oily and slick. She was going to die.

Her father captured it in his tendrils but they easily tore. Water rushed past her and deafened her to horror.

Her face swelled shut. Her joints ballooned, and her gut popped. It seared. White-hot, worse than her dreams. The end came with tragedy and agony before the blissful snuffing.

#bleach #karin kurosaki #toshiro hitsugaya #ichigo kurosaki #momo hinamori #yuzu kurosaki #renji abarai #izuru kira #shuuhei hisagi #akon #shukuro tsukishima

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leftsidebonfire · 3 years ago

Text

At Our Place, We Do Four

Tagging: @shaylistic @bisexualsmackingnoises @dwellers-hollow @koldbrew @its-that-guy-again @witchofcustom @plaguedoclavender @milfnaki @boboleyn @thisbloghasnoaesthetic @cutie-pie-chan (I tagged all the peeps who reacted to the post so sorry if you didn't want the tag haha) @ocfairygodmother

Thank you @ungalossimp for the idea!!

The French have their own way of greeting companions.

"It's good to meet you, mademoiselle~" purred the hulking Frenchman before me, as he gently shook my hand. "My name is Jean Pierre Polnareff."

His accent was cute, I'd give him that. But I hardly had time to hear it before he used the gentle grip on my hand to pull me a little closer, kissing both of my cheeks. Left, then right. Truthfully, it was a bit more like touching his cheek against mine with a small kissing noise, but the abruptness of it was surprising. I could feel my cheeks reddening out of shock more than anything.

My eyes scanned the group around me while Polnareff wasn't looking, quickly trying to make eye contact with any of them to see if I should be concerned that he kissed me so suddenly.

But eye contact with the Egyptian man, Avdol, seemed to relieve my stress. He had a calm sense about him, almost as if he could see into my thoughts and remind me with a look. He's French. They do that. It's a common greeting.

So as Polnareff stepped back with a smile, I met it without needing to admit that I'd ever questioned him.

It really didn't take long for me to enjoy his company. I didn't expect it in the least, finding his goofy behavior to be sometimes detrimental and obnoxious, but I found my eyes drifting toward him more and more.

I had heard it said before that when you laugh, you look toward the person you feel most comfortable with. Which would explain why I was always looking at him. He made me laugh, and he made me feel comfortable. And, strange hair aside, he was growing on me.

In fact, the time I fell for him was embarrassingly fast. He was remarkably well kept. Clean, muscular, fit, funny, humorous. A smile you could see across the room. Freckles from the desert sun growing more and more each day on his fair skin. The glow of sunburn making a permanent blush across his nose and cheekbones. The way he'd swing an arm around me so my short ass could keep up with the group of fucking titans.

I had almost forgotten about the kiss greeting, until the day the group split up. I had gone with Avdol and Jotaro, while Mr. Joestar and Kakyoin had split off with Polnareff. Nothing much was happening, and Jotaro was the quiet and intimidating type, so Avdol struck up the conversation.

"I see you've gotten closer with Polnareff," he noted. It made me surprised.

"Yeah, he's really nice. Why do you say that?"

"Ah, it's nothing really. It's good to see his spirits up again. He's a bit notorious for bad luck, and he seems to cheer up around you."

"Around me?" I repeat, dumbfounded. Of course, he made me happy, too, but I wasn't expecting to have had a significant impact on anyone.

Avdol didn't say more than a chuckle, so I let the conversation go.

Now, I wasn't blind. But part of me wondered if every other woman on Earth was. I knew Polnareff liked to flirt. I knew how easily distracted he was by a nice pair of legs or a pretty face or anything somewhat beautiful that walked withing sight range. It wasn't long before I equated that little feeling in my stomach with jealousy. It wasn't a thing I'd admit out loud, but with the way Avdol brought up Polnareff, I had to wonder if I was more obvious than I'd thought.

And then, as the two groups converged to report their findings, Polnareff was there again. Flamboyantly waving all the way down the street, like an overgrown and humanized golden retriever trying his hardest to make his way to us through the busy crowd.

"Katie, mademoiselle, how are you?" He said with his arms wide, clasping my shoulders with his large hands. He dipped down and gently kissed both of my cheeks once more. Left. Right.

I noticed one subtle difference. I could feel the warmth of lips against my skin. Instead of the near-kiss cheek touch of the first meeting, he was quick to plant an actual kiss on me this time. Was this intentional? Or just him feeling comfortable around me?

And then I noticed one other subtle difference beyond that. It was the way my heart quickened and I felt the same shock I did from the first time. My eyes widened and I froze a little in place. A handsome man kissed both of my cheeks without even thinking twice! Everything around me seemed a little fuzzy, and maybe a bit brighter than before. I was warm. Extra warm. Beyond Egyptian-Sun-Warm. The freshly kissed cheeks of mine pulled up unto a smile as he grinned down at me, so casual, so calm, as if he hadn't just made my heart swell. As if he didn't even know that he was handsome and consumed my waking thoughts with that kiss.

I didn't think a simple action would awaken anything in me. I liked him, sure, but it wasn't like the kiss meant anything. Many people, even beyond the French, all greeted each other with a kiss. Friends, family, strangers, men, women, it wasn't something to get excited about.

But I did.

That night, as Polnareff parted ways to get to his hotel room, he bid adieu to the group with a wave and a goodbye fit for each of them. Kakyoin and Jotaro with a sort of clumsy bow and a clap in the shoulder, Joseph with a hearty handshake, and me... a spine crushing hug followed by a kiss to each cheek. Left, right.

"Goodnight, mademoiselle~" He said in a sing-song voice. I found myself blushing and gently touching my cheek as he moved on to say goodnight to Avdol.

It put pause to my thoughts when I watched Polnareff repeat the actions to Avdol. Gently touching their cheeks and meeting with a little kissing noise. And it brought me back to reality. He's French. It's just his culture. But the smile wouldn't leave my face, not even when I made eye contact with Avdol after Polnareff had left. Avdol's lips turned up in a knowing smile. Damn fortune teller could see right through me, but he wouldn't say it out loud. I continued to cover my cheeks as I quickly made my way to bed.

I laid on my back, sprawled out as I stared at the ceiling that night. Plans were brewing in my head and I didn't even know why. It felt like I had just proved to myself that he didn't mean anything by a cheek kiss, and yet... he made it look so easy. Have I been inside my own head my whole life? If I could remove the thought that a kiss had to be inherently romantic, and that kissing a friend had to be awkward, I could do it too! All I knew, though, was that I missed the feeling he gave me whenever he was close. I missed the warmth of his cheek and the rough callouses on the tips of his fingers where he'd held my hand, and held my shoulders.

I didn't sleep at all that night.

The next morning, I was up for breakfast as soon as light cracked through my window. The hotel offered free food, and in trying times like these, I was not going to pass up the opportunity. And for lack of sleep, I could sure use a coffee. I didn't even drink coffee.

I sat at one of the empty tables by the breakfast counter with a bagel and coffee, hoping to maybe catch up on sleep in the car or something. Sleepy eyes unfocused onto nothing until a most beautiful and rare sight came before them. Jean Pierre Polnareff, in sweat pants and a baggy black shirt, his long silver hair undone and cascading around his shoulders. If I thought I had feelings for him before, it was nothing compared to how I was feeling right now!

His tired eyes lit up when he saw me sitting there, and suddenly I wished I had better pajamas on beyond a stupid old band shirt. I started to stand up when I saw him, because I knew I'd be greeted with one of his crushing hugs, and I didn't want to miss it. It was like I couldn't be in a bad mood around him.

"Ma chérie!" He said loudly as he wrapped both arms around me. Squeezed tightly against his chest, I made a mental note to commit this moment to memory. I tried my hardest to squeeze him back just as tightly.

"I hope you slept well," he smiled as he pulled back. His hands were still on my upper arms, and I recognized the movement of his head enough to realize he was going for another kiss! It was hard to not feel giddy inside as he leaned down, his silver hair hanging down perfectly into my face. We were once more cheek-to-cheek, and he kissed me twice.

Each kiss felt like a burn. A good burn. But I could feel some sort of imaginary tingle every place our skin had connected. He once again left me blushing where I stood.

"I didn't sleep that well, but that certainly woke me up," I tried to joke. It was met with a hearty laugh, and he kept his arm around my shoulder. Having to tilt a little more than usual, he rested his cheek against the top of my head and just stood there for a while, snuggled up against me.

It wasn't long before the others came down as well, Joseph in a bathrobe, Jotaro in his tank top without the jacket, Kakyoin in a white shirt, and Avdol almost fully dressed, but without his coat, and his hair down. All of them, so well put together for just waking up. It felt like a calm moment among the storm. Instinctively, I felt like pulling away from Polnareff, lest they tease me over it and me it too obvious that I had feelings for him, but Polnareff's grip on my arm wouldn't budge. And if he didn't care, neither would I. He hugged me there for a few moments longer before breaking away to greet the others.

Avdol met my eyes once more, and this time, I knew he knew something. It was in the way he smirked, and the way I couldn't keep eye contact.

After breakfast, Polnareff stood up, stretched, and ran his hand through his hair. "Well, I think it's time I go pack my things. I'll meet you all back down in the lobby by 10."

Much to my surprise, I felt his hand on my shoulder and another quick peck to my cheeks before Polnareff was out of sight.

I must have had some sort of reaction that I didn't realize, because as Polnareff parted ways, I noticed a sort of shared look amongst the group, and they were all looking at me.

"What?" I challenged, too which Joseph replied with a smile.

"Ohhh, nothing~"

"I would recommend some sunscreen today, Katie," Kakyoin noted with a hint of amusement. "Your face is looking a little red."

Fuck, fuck, they were on to me. I couldn't look at anyone properly.

"Yeah," was all I could stammer out, covering my cheeks with my hands. When I stood up to go to my room, Avdol met me halfway, out of earshot from the others.

"You're becoming acquainted with La Bise, I see," Avdol said with a knowing smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I groaned, just wanting to be away from the teasing.

Avdol heard me, but persisted. "Its a tradition common in many cultures. If you'd like to return the greeting, it's really very simple. The French start with the left cheek, lean in, touch the cheeks together, and make a kissing sound. And repeat the same on the other side. It's common as a hello, a goodbye, or a congratulations."

As Avdol explained the phenomenon of cheek kissing to me, he demonstrated, holding my arm the way Polnareff had and softly touching his cheek against mine with a kiss. It was in every way identical to what Polnareff had done, and yet I didn't feel like I was about to combust on the spot when he did it.

I didn't really know what to say. I was grateful for the information, but I didn't know what he was getting at. I suppose now that I know the ins and outs of it, I could return the favor, if that was what he was implying.

"Ah, that makes a lot of sense now," I said, for lack of anything else to say. "I didn't know there was an etiquette to it."

"Oh, and one more thing. Next time he goes to greet you that way, you could say to him, chez nous on en fait quatre."

I let out a nervous laugh. "What does it mean?"

"I'm a bit rusty on my translation, but I know it's also a common response."

"Oh, now I just know you're fucking with me. How do I know I'm not about to say something stupid or offensive?" I crossed my arms. His smile gave away everything. I wanted to trust him, but the last thing I wanted to do was humiliate myself in front of someone I had grown to like... a lot.

Avdol held up his hands innocently, as if he was trying to keep from laughing. "What type of person do you take me for, Katie?"

I gave him a scowl, but I knew I couldn't be mad at him. I pointed at my eyes and then to his.

"Fine. Fine. But if I end up offending him and he hates me forever, I'm fully blaming you."

"A fair deal." He chuckled. "Now go get your love."

"Hey!" I cried, my face burning hotter. He laughed a bit harder, turning away to take his seat and finish his breakfast.

I took a deep breath, going up to Polnareff's hotel room and gently knocking. It took a moment before the door opened, and there he was, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail to keep it out of his face. I felt my heart in my throat.

"Ah! Katie! Just who I was hoping to see!" He touched my shoulder, and I knew for a fact what he was preparing for. I had to hide the fact that I was about to go weak kneed for him. I returned the greeting this time, making the soft kissing noise as he moved from cheek to cheek.

He planted a kiss on each cheek and I had to suppress my nervous giggle. It was the time to trust Avdol... I just prayed he was right.

"C-Chez nous on en fait quatre."

Polnareff looked at me in shock and confused, and then seemed proud.

"Oh! My apologies, I didn't realize!"

Before I even had a moment to ask him what he needed to apologize for, he leaned in again, pressing his cheek against mine for a soft kiss. Left, right... Left, right. Four. Four kisses.

When he pulled back, he was smiling quite broadly. "Your French is beautiful, I didn't know you spoke it."

"Ah, it's... very little." I admitted. I couldn't tell him now that Avdol instructed me on it.

"Well, you're familiar with La Bise and your pronunciation is quite good for what you know. Perhaps I should teach you sometime~"

"Sure... that... that would be nice!" I placed my hand on top of his hand, and I noticed the way his eyes flicked toward it. "Would you like any help packing?"

"A-Ah, oui, merci, chérie!" He said with a wide smile. "Thank you!" And suddenly, the pinkness in his cheeks seemed to darken beyond his sunburn. He squeezed my hand a bit tighter before letting go and turning to pack. Gee, for a man who had no problem planting four kisses on me, well, technically six counting his first greeting, he sure seemed to have a reaction to gently holding hands. It was... cute.

Later that night, we separated after a dinner together, when Polnareff once again bid me goodnight with the usual kisses. I figured I'd be used to it at this point, but he made sure to kiss me four times this round, and I was left standing there dumbfounded again, on front of the others.

Avdol approached me after Polnareff left.

"So, you took my advice?"

"What did I say to him?"

"What, you're not happy with the result?"

Oh, he's trapped me now. Of course I was happy with the result, but how could I just admit that to him?

"I—" I couldn't look him in the eyes. "If I say yes, will you just tell me what I said to him?"

Avdol laughed and placed a calming hand on my shoulder.

"A rough translation is "at home, we make four." And what it means, in more casual terms is, "at my place, we do four." Kisses, that is. Different parts of France have different standards for kissing as a greeting. Some only do one, but others can do up to four. This was a polite way of telling him the proper number so he could greet you properly."

"Avdol... I'm not French, though." I mumble, avoiding all the rest of what he'd said.

"I think he knows that." He said, once again with that knowing smile.

"So why are you telling me this?"

"Friendly advice." Was all he said, with a smile. I pushed him. Lightly, of course, but enough to let him know he was right.

His advice served me better than I'd ever hoped. Every morning I was greeted with four kisses. And every night, the same: a bone crushing hug and four more kisses. And this wasn't even to mention any other time Polnareff felt it necessary to greet me or congratulate me. Figuring out a Stand User's powers? Four more kisses. The group split up and reunited? Four more. I found his hugs to be lingering more and more too. His hands roaming the expanse of my back as my cheeks pressed firmly into his neck and chest. I never wanted him to let go.

I forgot all about sleeping. Getting up early became a habit, just so I could be awake in time to see Polnareff sleepily stumble out of his hotel room and greet me with a soft "Good morning, mademoiselle," and another kiss. I started returning them, kissing his cheeks. It was the highlight of my day. Between being hunted down by agents of Dio, not getting enough sleep, and constantly being on my guard, I grew to look forward to my four kisses each day.

I tried to not feel bad about it. Did Polnareff ever realize that I had stopped viewing the kisses as friendly? Did he know how much I looked forward to the next breathtaking hug? Or how I laid awake at night, smiling so hard I couldn't sleep, because the only thing I could even think about was the softness of his skin and lips against my face? Had I convinced myself that there was something there, and was simply using his culture against him?

I kept hoping that one day, it would turn into more than a cheek kiss. I sought out a way to kiss him without it being weird, but my body failed me every time. Every time he would hold me just a little too long, just a little too tight. Every time he would pick out a seat specifically next to me. Every time a sweet French name crossed his lips, all of them causing butterflies and heat all over.

Ma Belle, ma Chérie, mon ange, ma lutine... It didn't matter that I didn't understand most of them. All it served to do was make me want to kiss him even more.

And one day, my wishing paid off.

It was after a long day on the road, and the hotel was long overdue, like an oasis of safety amongst all the trauma.

"Can I walk you to your room?" He had asked suavely.

"Sure, I'd like that," I replied with a smile.

The air felt different between us. He wrapped both arms around me protectively, cradling my head against his shoulder this time. We stood here for at least a minute or more. His hands would fidget against my back and we would find a way to tighten the hug. I took to gently rubbing his back, swaying a little on the spot.

He pulled back first and I knew what he was about to do. In my haste to meet him on the left cheek, the both of us misjudged the distance, which led to a soft brush of lips in the middle. We both froze on the spot and I was trying desperately to think of something to say to save my own ass.

I had kissed him. After weeks of waiting and hoping, our first kiss was a fucking accident! "Flustered" didn't even begin to describe the way I was feeling. I wanted to sink into the floor and stop existing from embarrassment, but he was still holding me just as tightly around the waist.

I took far too long stammering with a flushed face before I felt an overwhelming sense of calm. This man had been kissing me at least 8 times a day for several weeks in a row.

My face as red as his broken heart shaped earrings, I took a deep breath.

"At my place, we do four."

He looked visibly confused, his cheeks redder than sunburn.

"A-Ah—?"

I kissed him, softly, but more firm than the accidental one. This one was no mistake. This one was the one I'd meant to do for days, dreamed about for so many nights.

"That's two."

His face broke out into the widest smile I'd seen from him so far.

"Ah, you~"

He dipped me back with the enthusiasm of his third kiss and I nearly fell to the floor.

And for the fourth, my hands came up to clasp his face, feeling the heat radiating from his cheeks. His arms latched around my waist, leaving no room between us at all as he held me there in that hotel hallway.

I felt dizzy when he let go, and was smiling so hard, my cheeks were aching. I had to stumble back and catch myself from how close we were standing.

"Jean Pierre. Would you share my room with me tonight?" I asked with a sigh of relief.

He looked like he could have cried from happiness, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles.

"Absolutely, mon amour~" He cooed, stringing his arm behind my back again.

I opened the door and brought him in, feeling like my body was floating

"You know...," He mused as he pulled me into his lap on the bed. "Some places in France do five."

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capriceandwhimsy · 3 years ago

Photo

So this little piece of cardboard from a board game just gave me one of the most emotional moments of my entire life.

Spoilers for Pandemic Legacy: Season 2 under the cut.

The Hero of the Havens was given the name “Pat” at birth. For their entire life, nobody would ever be sure of their gender, not even the two players sitting around the card table night after night playing the board game that they were a character in. Sometimes, we called them “he/him,” other times “they/them,” sometimes “she/her.” I think “Pat” would have liked it that way.

Before the first game was even played, their name was changed to “Pathos.” Mostly because in a world full of Yashas, Beaus, and Gillians, an SNL joke seemed somehow inappropriately flippant.

-----

Pathos was born on the Haven of Atlantis, a converted off-shore oil rig in the Mediterranean Sea. From a young age, they knew they were different. They knew that their people had fled to the Havens many years before they were born. They knew that seventy-five years ago, a terrible plague had swept through the entire world, and that a small team of heroes had fought and risked everything to stop the plague from destroying humanity. They knew that they lived in a world where humanity was reduced to small populations living on the offshore Havens and the inland cities. That savage gangs of so-called Hollow Men went from city to city raiding and destroying everything the Haven-Dwellers could create.

When they were 18 years old, the leaders of the Havens vanished without a trace. As the child of one of the administrators, Pathos had been trained in administration, and could quickly organize people under a common banner. Pathos was the one to convince the remaining Haven leadership to put their trust into a plan to secure the supply lines that kept the Havens running, while investigating the mysterious disappearance of the Haven leadership. While they started off coordinating efforts from Atlantis Haven, they soon realized that in order for efforts to proceed quickly, they would need to get into the field themselves.

Pathos quickly became one of the most vital field members of the Haven Expeditionary Force. Their ability to quickly organize team members and knowledge of transport routes allowed them to quickly create new supply routes and move people across them, as needed. Their keen eyes and sharp mind allowed them to quickly recon new areas, and investigate the mysteries of these new cities.

There were others in the team. Gregory, the construction foreman, who could quickly organize the construction of new supply centers. Gillian, a scientist of mysterious origins who bore a strange resemblance to one of the heroes of the previous crisis. Beau, the teacher, who served as information broker and (after the re-establishment of their worldwide radio network) their radio transmitter. Probably Pathos’s closest friend and mentor was Beau’s wife Yasha, a broad-shouldered farming woman who could was the best driver anyone had ever seen, who kept the supply networks open and the Havens fed.

And as time went on, and the threat of the Hollow Men increased, and the supplies ran low, they soon came across the true nature of the world.

Serious spoilers for Pandemic Legacy Season 2 Up Ahead.

Like all of the Haven Dwellers, Pathos covered their face in public with face-paint, masks, or scarves. This was because, like the rest of the Haven Dwellers, Pathos’s ancestors had been the survivors of a disfiguring plague seventy-five years ago. The survivors of this plague had been banished to the off-shore Havens, where their horrifying appearance would not disturb those who had been lucky enough to remain unexposed to the CODA-403 FADED retrovirus. But the “Faded” were unfortunate enough to pass on their disfigurement to their children.

And it was in November of that fateful year, as Pathos led their expedition into the walled city of Utopia, that the truth of the matter was discovered.

Utopia was a totalitarian hellhole. Despite having the cure to the plague that was killing the Haven Dwellers, Utopia’s leaders wanted nothing more than to kill off the entire Faded population of the world and repopulate it with their own people. This was a plan of genocide by neglect.

Fuck that shit.

Pathos hadn’t led their team this far to fail now. They threw open the gates to the Hollow Men, and the city of Utopia started to burn, the only survivors those who found shelter in the last haven constructed for them in that city.

As the city fell apart into violence, Pathos and Gillian stormed the hidden laboratory at Lake Baikal and formulated a plan with the scientists there. Gillian’s home in Johannesburg was home to another secret laboratory, this one constructed to quickly synthesize a cure for the plague. In order to do so, however, a sample of the cure itself would need to be brought to Johannesburg. But with the Utopian leaders searching for them, there was only one way to smuggle the cure out: in someone’s bloodstream.

This would be a death sentence. The concentrated level of virus in the bloodstream would eventually kill whoever volunteered to take this duty.

The team got on the radio with each other one last time. Yasha argued to be the one to do it: “I’m the best driver,” they said, “you’re an eighteen year-old kid! Let me be the one!”

“It doesn’t matter how fast you drive if the cities fall apart!” Pathos replied. “I can do this. . . just keep the supply routes open, and my route clear. Besides,” and with this, the young Haven Dweller gave a small smile to their best friend: “Your wife would kill you if I let you do this.”

And with that, they jammed the needle into their arm. . . and the race was on.

-----

The next few weeks were heart-poundingly tense. With the Hollow Men running rampant across the world, and the supplies running desperately low, the remaining team members pulled out all the stops to keep the Havens alive for just one more week. . . just one more day. . . long enough for the young hero to make it home.

In the far East, Dr. Gillian was keeping the crisis in Utopia down, saving lives even in the city that had tried to kill them. In the middle East, Yasha and the immunologist Shizui Lan fought to keep the supply routes open. Grim messages started coming in from places across the globe: the city of Lima was fallen. Cairo was surrounded by mobs of hostile Hollow Men. Tehran. Delhi. Tripoli.

Meanwhile, Pathos and their convoy continued their long trek across a world falling apart. Radio signals transmitted from other Haven Dwellers cleared a path across hostile waters, all the way to the port at Dar Es Salaam. There were moments when the Haven Dwellers watching this happen feared that there was no way that the expedition could make it to Johannesburg before the plague consumed the world. Every single resource available was desperately husbanded until the last possible moment, then thrown at the problem.

Finally, with the world on the brink of chaos. . .

. . .

. . . one of the players sitting at the card table threw down the last two cards needed. Heart pounding, he shouted these words: “NEW MOMBASA. . . TO DAR ES SALAAM. . . TO JOHANNESBURG. WE SAVED THE WORLD!”

-----

They say that that was the day that the world changed. That this was the day that the iron grip of Utopia was destroyed, and humanity became one people once more.

There were losses. . . there were failures. Paris, the City of Lights, would never shine again. Denver, Colorado, was a forsaken wasteland. Lima. Osaka. Kinshasa. . . all gone. But humanity itself survived. On the Havens, they survived. In London, Lagos, Istanbul, Sao Paolo, Johannesburg. . . they survived.

As for Pathos. . . I like to think they survived long enough to see the cure take hold. I like to think that they spent their last days in that hospital bed in Johannesburg with their friends by their side, hearing over the radio about the cure synthesized from their own blood going out to millions of survivors throughout the world. I like to think that Gillian used every ounce of her skill to make sure Pathos was comfortable in their last days. I like to think that their story went out to the entire world, and that everyone: Faded, non-Faded, Hollow Man alike. . . heard it. . . and could not help but be moved.

And I like to think one of the last visitors that Pathos had was their friend Yasha, and her wife Beau. . . and that they heard that Beau and Yasha were conceiving a child together in one of Gillian’s laboratories. I like to think they asked Pathos for permission to name their child after them.

“God, no!” I imagine Pathos saying. “I mean. . . it’s my name, but I got bullied for it as a kid.” And they’d smile and say. “You know. . . I was almost named something else.”

(And this is true: if it weren’t for the fact that I’d written “Pat” in pen at the start, I would have considered erasing it and writing something else. I figure they deserve it now.)

So I’m going to end with this character’s corrected card, as I’ve corrected it to after this game ended.

#Pandemic Legacy #Board Games #Pandemic Legacy Season 2 spoilers #Pandemic Legacy Season 2 #CODA-403

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