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ladyofasoiaf · 4 years ago

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Sansa & Beauty - Quotes

RADIANT:

Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall.

A Game of Thrones - Jon I

*-*

COMELY:

"Saffron is very beautiful, I'll have you know. Tall and slim, with big brown eyes and hair like honey."Alayne raised her head. "More beautiful than me?"

Ser Harrold studied her face. "You are comely enough, I grant you. When Lady Anya first told me of this match, I was afraid that you might look like your father."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

EXQUISITE:

"You do look quite exquisite, child," Lady Olenna Tyrell told Sansa when she tottered up to them in a cloth-of-gold gown that must have weighed more than she did. "The wind has been at your hair, though."

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

*-*

FAIR:

I must ask after Sansa. How else will I find her? She cleared her throat. "Goodwife," she said to the woman on the turnip cart, "perhaps you saw my sister on the road? A young maid, three-and-ten and fair of face, with blue eyes and auburn hair. She may be riding with a drunken knight."

A Feast for Crows - Brienne II

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BEAUTY:

The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister's beauty.

A Feast for Crows - Brienne VII

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Lord Littlefinger kissed her cheek. "With my wits and Cat's beauty, the world will be yours, sweetling. Now off to bed."

A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

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"Had we known such beauty awaited us at the Gates, we would have flown," Ser Roland said. Though his words were addressed to Myranda Royce, he smiled at Alayne as he said them.

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

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LOVELY:

Sansa Stark looked especially lovely this morning, though her face was as pale as milk.

A Clash of Kings - Tyrion VI

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Sansa closed the shutters and turned sharply away from the window. "You look very lovely today, my lady," Ser Arys said.

A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

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"Leave the colors to me, my lady. You will be pleased, I know you will. You shall have smallclothes and hose as well, kirtles and mantles and cloaks, and all else befitting a . . . a lovely young lady of noble birth."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

*-*

When the moonstones hung from Sansa's ears and about her neck, the queen nodded. "Yes. The gods have been kind to you, Sansa. You are a lovely girl. It seems almost obscene to squander such sweet innocence on that gargoyle."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

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"My lady," Tyrion said, "you are lovely, make no mistake, but . . . I cannot do this. My father be damned. We will wait. The turn of a moon, a year, a season, however long it takes. Until you have come to know me better, and perhaps to trust me a little." His smile might have been meant to be reassuring, but without a nose it only made him look more grotesque and sinister.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Her maids were dressing her when Tyrion appeared, Podrick Payne in tow. "You look lovely, Sansa." He turned to his squire. "Pod, be so good as to pour me a cup of wine."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

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And false. Sansa, Shae, all my women … Tysha was the only one who ever loved me. Where do whores go? "A lovely girl," said Tyrion, "and we were joined beneath the eyes of gods and men. It may be that she is lost to me, but until I know that for a certainty I must be true to her."

A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IX

*-*

"The Lord Protector's daughter," the bald knight announced, all hearty gallantry. He rose ponderously. "And full as lovely as the tales told of her, I see."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

PRETTY:

She frowned down at them with dismay and glanced over to where her sister Sansa sat among the other girls. Sansa's needlework was exquisite. Everyone said so. "Sansa's work is as pretty as she is," Septa Mordane told their lady mother once. "She has such fine, delicate hands."

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

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"He's going to marry her," little Beth said dreamily, hugging herself. "Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm."

Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment.

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

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"Lady," he said, tasting the name. He had never paid much attention to the names the children had picked, but looking at her now, he knew that Sansa had chosen well. She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentle and trusting. She looked at him with bright golden eyes, and he ruffled her thick grey fur.

A Game of Thrones - Eddard III

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A pity Ned Stark had taken his daughters south; elsewise Theon could have tightened his grip on Winterfell by marrying one of them. Sansa was a pretty little thing too, and by now likely even ripe for bedding. But she was a thousand leagues away, in the clutches of the Lannisters. A shame.

A Clash of Kings - Theon IV

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"I will sing it for you gladly."

Sandor Clegane snorted. "Pretty thing, and such a bad liar. A dog can smell a lie, you know. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They're all liars here . . . and every one better than you."

A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

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I have to look pretty, Joff likes me to look pretty, he's always liked me in this gown, this color.

A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

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"Leave her face," Joffrey commanded. "I like her pretty."

A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

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"Didn't you ever have a brother you wanted to kill?" He laughed again. "Or maybe a sister?" He must have seen something in her face then, for he leaned closer. "Sansa. That's it, isn't it? The wolf bitch wants to kill the pretty bird."

A Storm of Swords - Arya IX

*-*

Jaime found himself wondering if Brienne might have passed this way before him. If she thought that Sansa Stark had made for Riverrun . . . Had they encountered other travelers, he might have stopped to ask if any of them had chance to see a pretty maid with auburn hair, or a big ugly one with a face that would curdle milk. But there was no one on the roads but wolves, and their howling held no answers.

A Feast for Crows - Jaime III

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Petyr put a finger under her chin. "That Royce glimpsed this pretty face I do not doubt, but it was one face in a thousand. A man fighting in a tourney has more to concern him than some child in the crowd. And at Winterfell, Sansa was a little girl with auburn hair. My daughter is a maiden tall and fair, and her hair is chestnut. Men see what they expect to see, Alayne."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

*-*

Ser Loras had given Sansa Stark a red rose once, but he had never kissed her . . . and no Tyrell would ever kiss Alayne Stone. Pretty as she was, she had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

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She studied Alayne's face and chest. "You are prettier than me, but my breasts are larger.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

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Sansa was the pretty one. He remembered a time when he had thought that Lord Eddard Stark might marry him to Sansa and claim him for a son, but that had only been a child's fancy.

A Dance with Dragons - Reek I

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Petyr put his arm around her. "So he is, but he is Robert's heir as well. Bringing Harry here was the first step in our plan, but now we need to keep him, and only you can do that. He has a weakness for a pretty face, and whose face is prettier than yours? Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

BEAUTIFUL:

"Joffrey likes your sister," Jeyne whispered, proud as if she had something to do with it. She was the daughter of Winterfell's steward and Sansa's dearest friend. "He told her she was very beautiful."

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

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Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother's fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys.

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

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When the white horse stopped in front of her, she thought her heart would burst.To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. "Sweet lady," he said, "no victory is half so beautiful as you." Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

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"Sweet Sansa," Queen Cersei said, laying a soft hand on her wrist. "Such a beautiful child. I do hope you know how much Joffrey and I love you."

A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

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She was dressed in mourning, as a sign of respect for the dead king, but she had taken special care to make herself beautiful.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

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His smile emboldened her, made her feel beautiful and strong. He does love me, he does.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

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"I will need hot water for my bath, please," she told them, "and perfume, and some powder to hide this bruise." The right side of her face was swollen and beginning to ache, but she knew Joffrey would want her to be beautiful.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

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His brow was damp with sweat. "I saw Sansa at the court, the day Tyrion told me his terms. She looked most beautiful, my lady. Perhaps a, a bit wan. Drawn, as it were."

A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VI

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"Sansa was a lady at three, always so courteous and eager to please. She loved nothing so well as tales of knightly valor. Men would say she had my look, but she will grow into a woman far more beautiful than I ever was, you can see that. I often sent away her maid so I could brush her hair myself. She had auburn hair, lighter than mine, and so thick and soft... the red in it would catch the light of the torches and shine like copper..."

A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VII

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As they lurched into motion, Tyrion reclined on an elbow while Sansa sat staring at her hands. She is just as comely as the Tyrell girl. Her hair was a rich autumn auburn, her eyes a deep Tully blue. Grief had given her a haunted, vulnerable look; if anything, it had only made her more beautiful. He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy.

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

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Tyrion had never seen her look more lovely, yet she wore sorrow on those long satin sleeves. "Lady Sansa," he told her, "you shall be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight."

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

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"Ser Loras," she finally managed, "you.. you look so lovely."

He gave her a puzzled smile. "My lady is too kind. And beautiful besides. My sister awaits you eagerly."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

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"At the Hand's tourney, don't you remember? You rode a white courser, and your armor was a hundred different kinds of flowers. You gave me a rose. A red rose. You threw white roses to the other girls that day." It made her flush to speak of it. "You said no victory was half as beautiful as me."

Ser Loras gave her a modest smile. "I spoke only a simple truth, that any man with eyes could see."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

*-*

She wanted to look beautiful for Willas Tyrell. Even if Dontos was right, and it is Winterfell he wants and not me, he still may come to love me for myself.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

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"You are very beautiful, my lady," the seamstress said when she was dressed.

"I am, aren't I?" Sansa giggled, and spun, her skirts swirling around her. "Oh, I am." She could not wait for Willas to see her like this. He will love me, he will, he must... he will forget Winterfell when he sees me, I'll see that he does.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Tyrion wore a doublet of black velvet covered with golden scrollwork, thigh-high boots that added three inches to his height, a chain of rubies and lions' heads. But the gash across his face was raw and red, and his nose was a hideous scab. "You are very beautiful, Sansa," he told her.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Ser Kevan told her she was beautiful, Jalabhar Xho said something she did not understand in the Summer Tongue, and Lord Redwyne wished her many fat children and long years of joy. And then the dance brought her face-to-face with Joffrey.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Littlefinger pointed out a cedar chest under the porthole. "You'll find fresh garb within. Dresses, smallclothes, warm stockings, a cloak. Wool and linen only, I fear. Unworthy of a maid so beautiful, but they'll serve to keep you dry and clean until we can find you something finer."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

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"Marillion?" she said, uncertain. "You are... kind to think of me, but.. pray forgive me. I am very tired."

"And very beautiful.

All night I have been making songs for you in my head. A lay for your eyes, a ballad for your lips, a duet to your breasts. I will not sing them, though. They were poor things, unworthy of such beauty." He sat on her bed and put his hand on her leg. "Let me sing to you with my body instead."

She caught a whiff of his breath. "You're drunk."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

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"I wish you could see yourself, my lady. You are so beautiful. You're crusted over with snow like some little bear cub, but your face is flushed and you can scarcely breathe. How long have you been out here? You must be very cold. Let me warm you, Sansa. Take off those gloves, give me your hands."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

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"But you're not, are you? You are Eddard Stark's daughter, and Cat's. But I think you might be even more beautiful than your mother was, when she was your age."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

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"Do you require guarding?" Marillion said lightly. "I am composing a new song, you should know. A song so sweet and sad it will melt even your frozen heart. 'The Roadside Rose,' I mean to call it. About a baseborn girl so beautiful she bewitched every man who laid eyes upon her."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

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"Have you no honor?" her aunt said sharply. "Or do you take me for a fool? You do, don't you? You take me for a fool. Yes, I see that now. I am not a fool. You think you can have any man you want because you're young and beautiful. Don't think I haven't seen the looks you give Marillion.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

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"And you must be the Lord Protector's daughter," she added, as the bucket went rattling back up to the Eyrie. "I had heard that you were beautiful. I see that it is true."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

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"So you're brave as well as beautiful," Myranda said to her.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

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"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders.

"Aye," said the second knight, a burly fellow with a thick salt-and-pepper beard, a red nose bulbous with broken veins, and gnarled hands as large as hams. "You left out that part, m'lord."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

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"I was never beautiful like Sansa, but they all said I was pretty. Does Lord Ramsay think I am pretty?"

A Dance with Dragons - The Prince of Winterfell

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"It was sweet," lied Tyrion, "but I am married. She was with me at the feast, you may remember her. Lady Sansa."

"Was she your wife? She … she was very beautiful …"

A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IX

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Not to be outdone, the pimply knight hopped up and said, "Ser Ossifer speaks truly, you are the most beautiful maid in all the Seven Kingdoms."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

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"You will be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight, as lovely as your lady mother at your age. I cannot seat you on the dais, but you'll have a place of honor above the salt and underneath a wall sconce. The fire will be shining in your hair, so everyone will see how fair of face you are. Keep a good long spoon on hand to beat the squires off, sweetling. You will not want green boys underfoot when the knights come round to beg you for your favor."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

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"A beautiful bastard, and the Lord Protector's daughter." Petyr drew her close and kissed her on both cheeks. "The night belongs to you, sweetling, Remember that, always."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

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#sansa stark #asoiaf #A Song of Ice and Fire #quotes #sansa & beauty #ymbq #agot #acok #asos #affc #adwd #twow #alayne stone #let me know if there is more #mine

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dilly-oh · 4 years ago

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Red Hoodie of Fate

The blaring of the fire alarm woke Kakashi from a particularly good dream about tacos. He bolted upright, cracked his forehead on the coffee table, swore horrifically, and stumbled to his feet, blearily remembering falling asleep on the couch several hours ago. He must have rolled off at some point, maybe when he’d been sprinkling some cheese on those delicious tacos- no, stop. Food later. Fire now.

Thank God the dogs were at Yamato’s for the night, otherwise he might never have gotten out of the apartment. Bisuke was scared of loud noises and liable to hide in the deepest, darkest corner of the flat, while Bull would refuse to budge after laying down for anything less than the apocalypse. Pakkun probably would have just puked in anxiety and made matters worse, while Uhei, Akino, and Guruko would have simply started howling along with the siren. Urushi and Shiba were the only ones who’d have listened, and that was only if he had treats, which he no longer kept in his pockets after an unfortunate incident he didn’t care to repeat. He made a face as he recalled the taste.

Pulling on a pair of sneakers and a frayed red hoodie from the floor, Kakashi stuffed his keys and phone into his pockets before throwing open the door and lurching out into the hallway. He couldn’t see any flames or smoke, but he wasn’t going to sit around and wait to see if this was legit.

Maybe it was the brat from downstairs, playing pranks again. Kakashi had caught him stuffing a cat into someone’s mailbox the other day, so he definitely wouldn’t put it past the little punk. It had better not be those two idiots down the hall smoking weed again. Doors opened all along the hallway as tenants began pouring from their own apartments, hurrying down the hall and clogging the stairs like sleepy zombies. Kakashi shuffled along with them, letting the river of half-awake people drag him down several flights and out the front doors.

Kakashi milled around the parking lot with the chattering crowd, shivering at the cool night breeze and stuffing his hands into the hoodie’s front pockets. With nothing better to do than stand around awkwardly waiting for the fire-trucks, he glanced about, studying his neighbors one by one.

There was the brat, tousle-haired and sleepy-eyed, clinging to his mother’s long red braid, still half asleep. Near him was the emo kid who never brushed his hair and wore nothing but black – Kakashi was tempted to ask which make-up tutorial he used for his smoky eye. The two pot-heads were in the back, leaning against each other, dozing in place. There were more - the old man who wrote dirty novels and sometimes asked Kakashi for his expert opinion, the married couple from the floor above, and-

There was a man standing in the middle of the parking lot in nothing but a towel. Kakashi did a double-take before it processed.

He was dripping wet, water dribbling down his shoulders and pooling around his bare feet onto the pavement. Beads of moisture slowly made their way down the curve of his pectorals, glistening in the divots of his collarbone. Goosebumps had broken out over his tanned skin, pebbling his nipples, his long dark hair plastered to his neck and shoulders. He looked like some ancient Selkie come to seduce men to their watery graves, or a primordial God of the sea preparing to smite some mortals. And hopefully date him, dear God please.

Who the hell was that? Kakashi stared in shock, struggling to place him. He’d memorized every face in the building, and he certainly didn’t remember this Adonis, which was quite impossible. He had a whole grading system for every male in the building, and this knock-out would be graduating top of the class, Magna Cum Laud. Then the man turned his head and the light from the streetlamps hit just right, highlighting the faint slashing scar over the bridge of his nose-

Wait. Holy shit. Kakashi recognized him now, but could barely believe it. That was UMINO? Umino Iruka, the stuffy teacher’s aide who had just moved in next door like a month ago? The nerd whose idea of a good time was binge-watching a season of the Great British Bakeoff? Kakashi had given him a barely passing C+, having to dock points for the arsenal of pens in his shirt pocket and that one time he saw him wearing socks with sandals.

Damn. He’d totally misjudged him. This man was a BABE. The white towel only heightened his natural tan, accentuating the deep V of his hip-bones while the shadows played across his toned stomach. He looked…

He looked cold.

Umino stood stiffly upright, head high and without shame. In fact, he glared about, arms crossed, seemingly challenging anyone to make a comment or dare laugh. But Kakashi saw the goose-bumps on his skin, the subtle shiver of his shoulders. Summer had passed and, while winter was still a ways off, fall had begun muscling its way in. Kakashi wasn’t sure the clenched jaw was from irritation or to keep his teeth from chattering.

Kakashi gathered his courage and walked over.

“Hi,” he began, and almost stopped when Umino glared at him, eyes dark and daring. “Umino, right? Hatake Kakashi, from next door.” Umino studied him for a moment, then gave a sharp nod of acknowledgement. “Uh…want my jacket?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine,” Umino bit out with a tight smile, pushing some wet strands of hair out of his face.

Someone wolf-whistled. Probably the old man.

Umino slowly went red, the flush starting in his cheeks, then traveling down his neck to bloom halfway down his chest.

“…Yes, please,” he said quietly, gripping his towel in a white-knuckled hand. Kakashi fought back a chuckle and yanked the hoodie off over his head, inadvertently pulling up his shirt as he did so. Blinded as he was, he missed the flicker of Umino’s eyes over his exposed abdomen and prominent hipbones, the flush darkening a degree. Finally free, Kakashi gave the hoodie a shake and held it out, grinning sheepishly.

“Smells a bit like dog. Sorry.”

“S’fine,” Umino muttered, quickly taking it and pulling it on. It was a little too big for him but did the job, covering that delicious expanse of tanned skin and muscle. Kakashi stepped back and studied him for a moment, his mouth going dry.

Shit. It didn’t help at all. If anything, it made it worse.

Umino was now wearing his hoodie, which draped over his body but only made it to mid-thigh. The result was even more alluring and provocative than him standing there in a towel. Kakashi cleared his throat and snapped his eyes away, praying for a fire-truck to come peeling around the corner and hose him down so he could cool the fuck off.

“…You have a dog?”

“Huh?” Kakashi’s eyes snapped away from Iruka’s meaty thighs as he realized the owner of said thighs had just asked a question. “Oh! Yes. Dog. Or, rather, dog-zuh. Plural.”

“Plural?” Iruka frowned in confusion. “How many are we talking-”

“Eight.”

“EIGHT?!”

“Yup.”

“You have eight dogs.”

“Yup.”

“How did you even sneak that by the super?”

“Oh, she thinks I only have four. I have a friend who keeps a couple at his place. I just rotate them out.”

Umino laughed. It was a nice sound, even when he snorted a little at the end.

“So, what do you do?” Umino asked. “Other than harbor illegal animals, that is.”

“I work at the gym down the street,” Kakashi said, jerking his head. “I’m a fitness trainer.”

“Well, that would explain your abs...sssolutely horrible fashion sense. What are those track pants from, the 80’s?” Umino cleared his throat suddenly and jammed his hands into the hoodie’s pockets, frowned, then pulled out a crumpled wad of receipts for fast-food takeout. He stared accusingly at Kakashi for a long, quiet moment.

“…I’m allowed a cheat day,” Kakashi said.

“These are all from the same HOUR-”

“Gai bet me I couldn’t eat it all. I had to defend my honor.”

“Did you throw it all up afterward?”

“…I can neither confirm nor deny that. I can, however, confirm that I won the bet.” Kakashi winked cheekily, and Umino rolled his eyes.

“Do you…enjoy your job?” he asked, stuffing the receipts back into the pockets.

“It’s not bad. I mean, it could be worse, I could teach brats all day.” Kakashi shrugged. “What do you do?”

“I teach brats all day.”

…Dammit.

Umino’s grin was mischievous, though, and there was no hostility in his tone, so there must have been no offense taken.

“How’s that go?” Kakashi asked, genuinely curious.

“About as horrible as you’d think. I have them just when puberty rears its ugly head and turns them into angst-ridden monsters. My classroom in a cesspool of hormones and crying.”

Kakashi laughed aloud. Umino wasn’t anything like he’d thought. Both inside and out. It was incredibly refreshing, not to mention incredibly attractive.

Which is why he was quite disappointed when the first fire-trucks started to pull into the parking lot. He’d rather the whole apartment complex burn down if it meant he could stand out here, chatting with the hot teacher all night.

The fire, just a microwavable popcorn-bag gone wrong, was put out in minutes, the complex deemed safe by the groggy super, a busty older woman who was either hung over or still drunk at this unholy hour. Tenants began milling back inside, clogging the entrance in their desire to return to bed. Kakashi lingered in the back of the crowd with Umino, reluctant to part ways.

“Well, I suppose I should thank you for your hospitality,” Umino said lightly, reaching up to grasp the hoodie’s zipper. “You can have this back n-”

“Keep it,” Kakashi said quickly. Perhaps too quickly, going by the surprise on Umino’s face. “I mean…just for now. Till you. You know. Get inside and get dressed. You don’t wanna catch a cold.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling his ears get hot.

“Oh…alright.” Umino's hand lowered and he gave him a shy smile, plucking at the loose red threads hanging from the sleeves, winding one around his pinky absently. “Thank you.” The quiet words warmed Kakashi, a delicate shiver traveling up his spine. Kakashi mumbled a response, then doubled over as the hyperactive blonde kid suddenly bowled right into him.

“Watch it, old man!” the brat shouted, dodging away.

“I’m not even thirty!” Kakashi barked after him, offended. “Friggin’ kid. Can you believe-” He turned to Umino and blinked.

He was gone.

---

A knock on the door woke Kakashi right as he was taking another big, crunchy bite of taco. He bolted upright, cracked the back of his head on the coffee table, swore horrifically at himself for not getting in the damn bed this time, and stumbled to his feet. Making a mental reminder to just go and eat some fucking tacos already, he lurched towards the door, tripping over the rug and falling against it with a loud thud. He fought with the handle for a moment before finally yanking it open, squinting at the light stabbing into his eyes from the hallway.

Umino stood there, not hot as hell towel-Umino, but pressed khakis and crisp button-up, array of pens and hair in a severe ponytail Umino, fully dressed and ready for the day. Kakashi, rather than feeling a twinge of disappointment, was surprised to find the man just as alluring covered from head-to-toe as he was three-fourths-naked.

“Good morning,” Umino said, horribly chipper considering the abominable hour.

“Mornin’. What’re you doing here so early?” Kakashi mumbled, rubbing his face. Umino stared at him.

“It’s 9 a.m.”

“Holy shit. Really?” Kakashi squinted down at his watch. “I thought 9 a.m. was a myth.” Umino’s mouth fell open. “You still haven’t answered my question, though.”

“Oh. Right. Um. Your hoodie. I have it,” Umino said quickly, tripping over the words. He was flustered and twitchy with nerves. If Kakashi were a predator, this was when he’d pounce. “I, um, washed it. For you. Here.” He thrust the jacket out, perfectly folded and smelling of lavender. Kakashi was impressed.

“What, did you wash it twice?” he asked, taking it in his hands and marveling at how soft it felt. The rich red color was much more vibrant, almost seeming to glow.

“Three times,” Umino replied flatly. “Then Febreeze.”

“Umino-”

“Iruka.”

Kakashi blinked, looking up to meet the other man’s gaze.

“You can call me Iruka,” he said, sincere.

“…Alright. I’m Kakashi.” Kakashi stuck out his hand, tucking the hoodie under his other arm. Iruka’s shake was firm, his hands surprisingly soft. He must moisturize or something classy like that.

“I want to thank you for helping me out last night,” Iruka went on, two spots of color appearing high on his cheeks. “I was in a rather…awkward predicament and even after I snapped at you, you still helped me despite my rudeness. I…really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Kakashi replied easily, scratching the back of his head. Oh God, his hair must be a nightmare- no, wait. It always was. Nevermind then. “Any time.”

“So, um.” Iruka shuffled his feet a little, clearing his throat. There was that predatory instinct, niggling Kakashi to jump on him and go for the jugular. “I was wondering how to thank you, and I thought I could, maybe…make you dinner?” he finished weakly, glancing up at Kakashi from beneath thick lashes, then looking away again, suddenly shy. “I’m pretty good in the kitchen, so, if there’s anything you’d like…”

“Tacos,” Kakashi said instantly.

“…Oh.” Iruka deflated, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. “Tacos. Really? I was hoping for something a bit more…challenging. Something that would allow me to show off my culinary skills a bit. But, I mean, if that’s what you want-”

“I like miso soup,” Kakashi said after a moment. “With eggplant.” Screw tacos. He could have tacos any day of the week. He’d take a bowl of cold cereal if it meant getting to spend the evening with this full-course meal.

Iruka lit up, his smile warm and inviting.

“Miso soup it is, then. I’ll have it done by tonight and bring it over. Does that sound alright?”

“Sure.” Kakashi waved as Iruka walked off down the hall, then slipped back inside and closed the door. He brought the hoodie up to his nose and inhaled the comforting scent of lavender, thinking how differently last night would have gone had he not grabbed the hoodie. What he would have missed out on. Fate, it seemed, really did exist.

Hopefully he’d be seeing more of Iruka…in more ways than one.

-End-

Months ago, I was chosen as a pinch-hitter for the Kakairuzine (I would step in if someone had to leave), so I completed two fics just in case they were needed. Since it wasn’t, I’m posting it here. Enjoy!

#kakairu #kakairu fanfic #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #red thread of fate #I know I wrote a Victuuri fic with a similar story but I just really like the trope #sue me #fanfic #red string of fate #iruka in a towel how can it go wrong

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niqhtlord01 · 5 years ago

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Humans are weird: Anything can be our pet.

The shuttle gently glided down from the sky and rolled across the runway at the spaceport, the heat from reentry still fresh on its hull giving it a near mirage appearance to the waiting ground crew that were rushing over. The coolant trucks pulled up one by one and the ground crew attached their hoses to them and began spraying down the shuttle as the disembarking tunnel attached itself to the side hatch. A few moments later the hatch opened and the passengers of the shuttle began piling out. A large Draxic male, a lizard man like species, crouched down through the tiny door frame and entered the tunnel followed by a spry human female. Some of the other passengers hurriedly stepped aside as the Draxic stomped past while the female followed behind embarrassingly smiling and apologizing. She quickly walked up to the Draxic and kicked him in the leg. “What was that for?” He spoke, his lizard eyes narrowing down at her pouting face. “You shouldn’t be pushing past people.” He tilted his head to the side. “Then they should move out of the way faster. They haven’t been crammed into a seat half their size for the twenty solar hours” As if to emphasize his point he rose to his full height and extended his legs, the sound of creaking bones resounding through the tunnel. The human crossed her arms and continued pouting. “It’s still very rude.” The Draxic looked at her for a moment longer before grunting and continuing along his way. She no doubt thought that he was agreeing with her, but in reality the mixture of smells emerging from the world, the cooling shuttle behind them, the various mechanical machines around him, and even the other humans on the plane was beginning to make the Draxic sick. He wished for nothing more than to get to his friends home were hopefully the smells would diminish. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The world was known as Typhon Socundus, an ocean world whose entire landmass could be summed up as less than the country formerly known as the “People’s Republic of China”. The largest of the islands held the spaceport that the duo had exited on, while the rest was scattered around the planet forming smaller islands and island chains Because of the reduced landmass the planet’s population had been kept considerably smaller than other galactic worlds. Some had tried to create floating cities that glided across the waters in an attempt to increase the population, but that en-devour had ended rather shortly for reasons which seem obvious now to those who call the world home. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Draxic gripped the side of the boat tightly as his friend steered the small “dingy” towards her families island. The sea was calm in every direction and the sky was as crystal blue as the ocean water themselves. When the Draxic had heard that his friend owned an entirely island he was impressed as the land rights of the world were highly sought after. The land was given to her family several generations ago she said because since the time of her great grandfather her family had provided a “crucial” service to the planet’s government. What that service was exactly she had refused to tell him, saying seeing it would be far better. So caught up in remembering how he had been roped into taking his vacation with her he nearly failed to notice the boat slowing to a near complete stop. “Why have we stopped?” he asked his friend as she turned around from the steering wheel and opened a nearby crate that he had been resting his feet on. “This is part of what I wanted to show you.” she said while digging through the crate before pulling out a small package. She turned to unwrap it and though the Draxic could not see the package he could smell the mixing stenches of meat . “Besides, if I didn’t do this they’d probably wouldn’t let us pass.” Before he could inquire as to what that meant she chucked the contents of the package far out into the water. The contents hit the water and sunk beneath the calm waves. “What was-” the Draxic begun but stopped himself when he felt something. His keen senses felt something from far away sending ripples through the water and nudging the boat. He stepped to the side of the boat and began scanning the horizon. He felt the ripple again but this time was able to judge the direction and gazed across the water. Far off in the distance, as far as his eyes could clearly make out detail, he saw the water begin to slowly become wavy. Starting small, the waves quickly grew in intensity until the waves were radiating outwards. “What did you do?” he spoke as he turned to his friend. She was leaning over the side of the boat and tapping the water with her right hand in a rhythmic pattern. “If you didn’t see it with your own eyes I doubt you’d have believed me.” She continued tapping the water, unfazed by the growing disturbance of the water. “All I’ll say now, is don’t do anything. Just stand and watch, they don’t like new comers.” A gout of water shot up into the sky where the Draxic had been focusing on. Emerging from the water loomed a massive form, a shadow that cut through the clear blue sky like an obelisk of darkness. The shadow dove back beneath the waves before he could get a clearer view but whatever it was was now speeding straight for them. “By the seven suns! What is that!” Whatever it was dove beneath the waves again and was hidden from his sight. He quickly stepped to the side of the boat and began peering into the waters below, but he could not pierce through the murky gloom of the water. ‘There you are silly boy, come to mama.” At the words from his friend the Draxic turned and saw her laying her hand and head against what appeared to be a living wall of flesh and scale. An eye easily twice her size looked at her and the Draxic and he could sense the creature was that of a race of predators. His eyes calmly looked over from left to right and saw that he was in fact looking at the head of a massive Wave Serpent, a creature rumored to grow for eternity so long as it feeds and strong enough to crush the hull of a space vessel as if it was made of paper. The head of the beast slowly rose higher out of the water until the Draxic saw the mouth was wide open showing row upon row of teeth three times his size glistening in the sun light. He was left speechless as he came to realize that this must be his end and that he would be reunited with his ancestors in the eternal fields of war. While he was transfixed with his imminent demise his friend picked up several more packages and chucked them into the gaping maw. The creatures mouth clamped down with a thunderous boom that knocked the Draxic off his feet. The boat bumped against the scales of the beast and his friend continued to stroke the scales and talk lovingly to the Serpent before it retreated beneath the water once more. With the creatures passing she resumed her post at the helm of the ship and fired up the engine once more. “First time seeing one up close?” Her words seemed distant as the Draxic began to regain his composure. “What......just happened?” was all the formerly proud warrior alien could say. “My family raises Wave Serpents for the world.” She said as she steered the boat onwards. “That one was “Charlie” and I��ve had him since he was just an egg. He likes to showoff to strangers.” “What do you mean by “raises” them?” “When my granddad was young he came upon a Wave Serpent egg that washed up upon the shore. Since they grow up to be the size of spaceships he didn’t think the egg that was the size of a football was the same beast. He cared for the egg night and day until it finally hatched, he then cared for the little serpent every day. They developed such a close bond that it actually understood what he was saying to it which became mighty helpful when it grew to the size of a cruise liner.” She steered the boat around an outcropping of strange rocks, but as the Draxic looked closer he saw that they were in fact spines of several slumbering Wave Serpents that were resting on coral reefs just below the surface. Some he saw opened their eyes as the tiny boat passed their massive forms while others even raised their heads like cats finding something interesting before returning to their sleep. “Eventually that little one grew so large it became the queen of her species on the planet. She returned to the island my granddad had raised her and laid her own eggs there. So several generations of the creatures grew up under the stewardship of my family.” “But what does this have to do with the planet’s government?” “Well, once the people in power learned that there was someone out in the back country that could tame the beasts that were sinking their cargo haulers they attempted to pay him to teach others. He refused to teach anyone outside the family, but agreed he’d start teaching the serpents not to attack ships if they give him ownership of the entire island.” The Draxic looked stunned for a moment. “He blackmailed a planet’s government for a island?” “My granddad was a nice man, but he was also a clever devil when it suited him.” she chuckled. The Draxic pondered how she seemed perfectly fine around some of the galaxies deadliest creatures and even treated them like pets when something else struck him. “What did you feed that beas-” “Charlie.” she corrected him. “Yes; what did you feed “charlie”?” “I gave him a mix of beef and chocolate. It was his favorite treat growing up and even though he’s so big now his taste buds can still taste anything that touches them, regardless of how big or small it is.” The Draxic slumped back into the boat and watched as they neared the island she spoke of. Several serpents were strewn out across the island basking in the sun while several more circled it in the surrounding waters, nipping at each other to get closer. He felt as if his vacation was about to become far more exciting than his lizardman heart would be able to handle.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

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astertataricvs · 5 years ago

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Inosuke Hashibira || Attention

This is a long-ass one-shot and I have fun writing this!

Word count: 4.1k

Inosuke was in his own little world, he was thinking about a particular girl who he just knew for two months which to be precise is you. You’ve been steadily appearing in his mind whenever he’s trying to train or just getting cozy within the Butterfly estate. Then in just a few seconds, your face would automatically pop out of nowhere that seriously pisses him off.

The first time he met you was the day where he and his two dumb comrades come across with you whose covering a handkerchief around the dog’s bleeding leg. He already knew that you’re likewise a demon hunter just like him since it already states from the uniform you’re wearing.

After that ordained rendezvous with them, you started to hang out with their group and became friends. You would regularly laugh at them because of their comical bickers and how Zenitsu would hide behind you. By just recollecting how that dumb blondie would hide behind you and hold your shoulders, he couldn’t handle the frustration accumulating inside him. He just had this feeling that he wanted to punch Zenitsu’s face and throw him at the cliff.

Knowing you, you really like to assist around the grounds of Shinobu and you would also help the three girls in their duties who are always with Aoi. Everyone in the Butterfly estate admires you because of your benevolence and how thoughtful you are to each one of them. Tanjiro’s sister takes a liking to you too; you would always play with her and try to sing a lullaby for her when she’s going to sleep in your lap. So to be precise, you’re just like a mother to Nezuko though you’re just the equivalent age as his brother.

Zenitsu who was called a shitty coward or piñata head by yours truly Inosuke; the blonde boy would regularly flirt with you and call your name like a broken piece of record that precariously made Inosuke pissed due to his incessant chanting of your name.

Tanjiro and you would seldom spar and train on your training grounds. Some other way around, Inosuke would tag along with you too and he likes how strong you were and could keep up from his agile and reflexive movements. Despite that you’re a lady, you really know how to fight and you can follow their movements without catching your breath. In your sparring session, you could even throw their heavy bodies and lift them up like they’re just some sort of a piece of article that really made Inosuke impressed at you. Now that he knows your aptitudes, he likes to defeat you and Tanjiro, he’s too adamant to beat your asses and he wouldn’t quit from making himself stronger until he passes the both of you.

Furthermore, what made Inosuke be allured by you is that you’re continuously educating him things and give him new insight that he hadn’t known or encountered. Although Inosuke was scorning you and driving you away, you didn’t leave his side and still insisted to be with him. He’s even throwing some crude words to you but you will only beam at him and be patient at his effrontery.

Every time Inosuke would be injured and cripple himself during your missions, you’d spontaneously aid him and tend his wounds. You would always reassure him and tell him not to move or else his injuries will deteriorate. You don’t know how his stomach would flutter in delight and he’s feeling giddy for some odd reason. He will just notice himself that he’s been gawking at your visage, studying your features in every little detail, from your head down to your nose, deep (colour) eyes, kissable lips, perfect jawline. He wouldn’t know that you’re this beautiful like a waterfall that he stumbled upon amid the mountains perpetually streaming down and glisten due to the illuminating sunrays or moonlight.

More importantly, whenever you’re going to touch his arms or just a part of his body, he would involuntarily flinch and back away like a scared cat while looking at you with large eyes. He doesn’t even know himself why he’s acting like that towards you and his heart would pound relentlessly inside his thorax as if it’s going to disintegrate sooner or later if you’ll trigger it any further.

These unexplainable feelings he was feeling, he immediately divulged it to Shinobu since he can’t keep this new sensation for long. He told her every detail why he’s feeling that way while Shinobu was attentively listening to him. Upon gathering the boar head’s explanation, she couldn’t suppress the smile developing on her face.

After minutes that feels like an eternity, the Insect pillar cleared her throat then bestow him a sly smile before answering.

“Due to your explanation, I can guarantee you that you love, (Name),” she simply stated, not removing her smile.

“W-What?! What love?!” He exclaimed. He was confused about what Shinobu was telling him. He doesn’t know that word for goodness sake! Please explain it to him!

“Love is a feeling where you feel strong affection towards that person. Like, you wanted that person to be by your side and you’re attracted to her and you just can’t get rid her off in your mind. Also, just like what you had mentioned; you can feel your heart would thump vigorously whenever she’s with you or just simply touching you, you’re becoming self-conscious when you’re around her.”

Inosuke was dumbfounded, utterly speechless because of what the old woman had told him. He only remained quiet and keep his mouth shut, discerning the words that Shinobu just spew.

So he loves you? That’s the reason why he’s feeling these new emotions because he was in love with you?

“If you don’t tell her you love her, Zenitsu might take her away from you,” she evokes which causes Inosuke’s body to freeze and slowly peered at her.

Zenitsu? That piñata head will take you away from him?! HELL NO! He won’t let that shitty coward snatch you away from him! He needs to tell it to you as soon as possible!

● ● ●

Attempt #1

The following day, you were watering the plants of the butterfly estate while humming your favourite song. Everyone was inside doing their tasks as you do yours outward. While you were watering the beguiling purple flowers, you abruptly heard footsteps coming towards your direction.

“(NAME)!” Inosuke’s loud voice roared around the area and it rapidly grabbed your attention. Seeing the boar head, you instantly shot him an eye smile.

The beast breath user planned on showing off to you and obtain your attention to him and after he succeeds in his plan, he will confess to you and you will not reject Inosuke-sama because he’s just marvellous.

“What is it, Inosuke?” You asked him with a mellow tone and the boar head felt his heart pound.

“Look at this, (Name)! I found this many–”

“(Name)-san! Shinobu-sama was searching for you!” Sumi interrupted Inosuke from his sentence and from showing the beetles he just caught in the forest.

“Really? I should go then,” you said thus put the hose down once you turned off the faucet. You take a glimpse at the pretty boy then grinned.

“Let’s talk later, Inosuke. I’ll see you later.” You wave your hand at him and bid your goodbye.

When you’re now absent of the pretty boy’s sight, he immediately threw the beetles dismissively and huffed because his first trial has failed.

“Damn that shrimp! She came into a right time to interject!” He frustratingly yells and stomped his foot on the ground. “I’ll make her look at me tomorrow! Inosuke-sama will not give up!”

Attempt #2

You and the three boys were on your mission in a miniature town at the said destination that your kasugai crow had announced. It said that during the night, the townspeople kept on disappearing every single day. They don’t know where the people missing had gone to and their families were worried sick for their loved one’s wellbeing.

Absolutely that a demon was the reason behind the disappearance of the people in the small town. The four of you elected to group yourselves into two which is you and Inosuke and Tanjiro with Zenitsu who was cowering in fear. He even objected of you coming with the primitive boy and let him be with you instead. So in the end, Inosuke barked at his outlandish reason and Tanjiro just clutched Zenitsu’s back collar, hauling him whose struggling from the burgundy haired boy’s grasp.

So in the end, you and Inosuke were investigating to find the demon who had caused casualties in the small town. Closing your eyes, you tried to sense for an ill-disposed aura encompassing the area. Upon tracking where the murderous aura was exuding, you briskly opened your eyes and notified Inosuke where the demon is.

Both of you started to run towards the forest and the aura was becoming lucid as you run further through the dark pathway. Once you two reached a lake where you can sight the sumptuous full moon irradiating the quartz crystalline lake.

“I can sense the demon’s presence! Come out you piece of shit! Inosuke-sama’s going to decapitate you!” Inosuke hollered as he unsheathes his nichirin sword and roams his eyes to detect a figure.

“Inosuke, be careful okay? I don’t want you to get injured again,” You said softly which causes the boar head to pause and stare at you for a good minute. He can feel the fluttery feeling fabricating inside his stomach while he gawked at your sedate countenance staring at the lake in front of you as the moonlight strikingly exemplifies your face.

Why do you need to be so goddamn beautiful?

“Inosuke!” You shout his name when a demon suddenly emerged on the lake and charged towards the zoning out boy.

Inosuke snapped out from his heeds and prepared his sword to slash the hideous demon gurgling.

“Come right at me bastard! I’m going to annihilate you!” Inosuke contemptuously declares while laughing.

This is it! This is the excellent time he should impress you with his god-tier skills! He wouldn’t back out right now specifically where you can see Inosuke-sama’s awesomeness!

“PIG ASSAULT!” He yells as he started to charge towards the demon whose ready to bound at him.

“Look at how I’ll kill this bastard, (Name)!”

When Inosuke was now in the perfect form to slash the demon’s neck.

“(Name)! Inosuke!” Your attention was easily earned by Tanjiro whose sprinting towards you followed by Zenitsu behind him. And that’s also the exact time where the ferocious boy decapitated the demon.

“Tanjiro, Zenitsu!” You called and the two mentioned boys approach you.

“I smelled the scent of a demon coming from here, that’s why we rushed towards where you two run off and saw the both of you already in the area,” the innocent boy explained and looked behind you; only to find the demon’s head was already disentangled from its place and the body was already consumed by the ashes.

“Oh, Inosuke, you already killed him,” you said then flash him your bright smile. The said boy didn’t respond and just stood on his spot while staring at you with a vein protruding on his forehead (as if you can see his irritated expression right now).

“Good job, Inosuke! We already accomplished our mission with ease!” Tanjiro chirped.

“Thank God that I didn’t need to confront a demon!” Zenitsu said in relief as he dropped his tense shoulders.

“W-Wha… WHAT THE HELL?!”

Attempt #3

Nighttime, Inosuke was on his walk a while ago. Then upon taking a stroll around the forest, he saw fireflies in the midst of the pond as the insects fly through the air without any care in the world.

Green tiny lights surrounded the fishpond and make the dark area to lighten up in a shade of verdure that surely made the dull area to be eye-catching due to the help of the fireflies.

He would be lying if he says that the view he was witnessing right now is not enticing. It immediately caught his attention and he couldn’t thwart his gaze and only stared at the bewitching view with admiration.

In a few minutes of staring, your face suddenly pops in his head causing the feral boy to snap out from his reverie and hastily looked behind the path where it leads to the butterfly estate where you were at this moment. Suddenly, a light bulb surfaced on the top of his head when a good idea crisscrossed in his mind. Without wasting a second, Inosuke rushed towards the butterfly estate to get you and show you the beautiful place that you’ll surely love.

You were at the backyard, admiring the magnificent crescent moon on the sky with millions of stars twinkling.

“(NAME)!” Your peaceful moment was disrupted by Inosuke’s howling voice as you shift your head towards the path where you heard the voice of your comrade.

“Ino–”

“Nezuko!”

Much to your surprise, the human turned into demon girl unexpectedly jumped at you and tackle you with a hug causing you to lose your balance and dropped on the dirty ground.

“Nezuko?” You bewilderedly mentioned her name as the charming little sister of Tanjiro nuzzled her cheeks on your chest. You divert your gaze at the burgundy haired boy whose face was contorted in apology.

“I’m sorry, (Name). When Nezuko woke up she suddenly sprinted to look for you. She’s really fond of you,” Tanjiro mused while scratching the back of his head. You merely shook your head with a small smile crept on your visage.

“It’s fine, I love your sister too, Tanjiro. She’s so adorable!” You squealed and molded her cheeks by your hands.

Nezuko hummed in delight as she flashes you her eye smile that really makes your heart warmed and you can’t contain yourself to rub your cheeks on hers.

Then afterwards of pinching Nezuko’s cheeks, you suddenly remembered Inosuke. He felt like he wants to say something to you. Therefore, you whipped your head to the side where you saw the pretty boy, however when your eyes landed on the spot where he was earlier, he was already gone.

“Did I really saw Inosuke earlier? I’m not hallucinating, am I?” You muttered to yourself.

“What did you just say, (Name)?” Tanjiro inquired.

“Oh nothing, I just thought I heard and saw Inosuke just now.” Tanjiro looked at the place where you were staring at.

“Really? I didn’t see him though.”

“Of course, dummy, he already left. I wonder what does he want from me?” You wondered while placing your pointer finger on your chin.

● ● ●

The next day, Inosuke was really baulked at how everyone would interrupt him in a perfect time where he could show off to you. He was beyond indignant knowing that his attempts utterly failed!

He can’t restrain the burgeoning frustration he kept for days of attempting to get your attention!

He’s really in a bad mood right now so don’t ever come to him or else you’ll definitely be dead meat.

Inosuke kicked the pebble vehemently that was on his path as he walks without any care in the world. He doesn’t fucking care if someone would receive a blow on their face because of the pebble he just booted. He was undeniably agitated to even give a fuck to everyone or everything.

DAMN EVERYONE FOR DISRUPTING HIS PLAN!

“Ouch!”

Inosuke’s ears perked up upon hearing the familiar sweet and soothing voice that he loves to hear. Lifting his head, his eyes shot open ever so widely when his eyes settled on your figure whose rubbing your forehead. He can see a red mark creeping on it and he was utterly aware that the cause of it was the pebble he just kicked not so long ago.

“(Name)!” Inosuke hurriedly marched towards you as he looked at you with concern.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine, it just stings,” you assured.

Talk about not giving a fuck for everyone.

“You need to tend that scratch right now! You should go to Shinobu!” He instructed you but you only shook your head in response.

“It’s okay, I’ll treat this later when I’m done doing my errands.”

The green-eyed boy shakes his head in disapprobation. “You should take care of yourself dumbass! You’re always worrying about others but not yourself! You piss me off!” He scowled and before he can grab your wrist and drag you to the butterfly estate, a sudden loud cry of Zenitsu had caught your attention.

“(NAME)! HELP ME! Tanjiro keeps on pestering me to train with him and Uzui-san when I wholeheartedly turned him down because I don’t want to!” He cried while gripping your shoulders.

“Eh? But you should though! Isn’t that a privilege?” You arched your eyebrows and Zenitsu give you an aghast look.

“HUH?! NO! IT’S NOT! I’M GOING TO DIE YOU HEARD ME?! I’M GOING TO DIE–”

“SHUT UP, PIÑATA HEAD! YOU SERIOUSLY PISSES ME OFF!” Inosuke interjected as he pulled you to him and releases you from Zenitsu’s grasp.

“I’m not even talking to you, eyelashes!”

“Huh?! Who are you calling eyelashes, shitty coward!”

“PIG HEAD!”

“BROOM HEAD!

"GUYS! WILL YOU PLEASE STOP?!” You suddenly shouted which causes the two to stop from their petty argument and looked at you with astonishment. “Seriously, guys… you’re always fighting, can you please keep it down? You’re gaining the attention of all the by-passers, see?”

The two boys looked around to see everyone was staring at them with entertainment or just solely watching them. Zenitsu and Inosuke steal glances each other and immediately turned away with a huff.

You sighed at your two friends and just glanced at Inosuke. “Inosuke, I’ll accompany Zenitsu to go to Uzui-san’s training area first. Let’s talk later, okay? And I’ll treat this scratch just like you had told me.” You beamed and thus faced your back at the boar masked boy before nodding at Zenitsu to leave.

Inosuke merely watched you deliberately walking away as you talked to Zenitsu with a smile on your pretty visage. He suddenly feels his heart throb once he sights you with that coward being happy and you just fancied to go with him rather than him.

He clenched his fists and hang his head while chewing his lower lip. He can’t contain the frustration filling his whole existence anymore. He can feel his blood boil and the rage surging through every little fiber of his body because this time, he wasn’t venturing his plan and just wanted to talk to you but why does it need to be interposed again and to be specific, by that blonde cowardly boy?!

“GODDAMNIT! GIVE ME YOUR ATTENTION TOO, (NAME)!” Inosuke went berserk. He can’t restrain himself anymore and he won’t regret what he just spouted because it’s the fucking truth!

You, on the other hand, was dumbfounded and stared at the boy who’s still standing on his site where he was earlier. Your mouth gaped and stared at the pretty boy with altitudinous astonishment.

Did you just hear him right? Did he just bluntly tell you to give him your attention? Even Zenitsu was incredibly shocked because of what Inosuke had roared. Its crystal clear for him, especially that he has a keen sense of hearing! He didn’t know that Inosuke has this kind of character as well! He thought that he’s a stupid dumbass who was obsessed at fighting and a muscle brain! So, of course, it will shock him to the core!

He was utterly in disbelief! You two were caught off guard!

“I-Inosuke–” the said man briskly run away before you can say something to him.

“Zenitsu, can you please buy the stuffs written on that list? I just need to chase Inosuke!” You quickly give him the list and the money then afterwards, started to run away to look for the boar head boy.

Inosuke’s legs brought him to the pond where he was supposed to show you until Tanjiro’s sister intervened. He only plopped himself down and sit on the grass while staring at the crystal clear pond. He sighs in impediment and still can’t comprehend that he went amok and screamed that you should look at him also. He forgot that there are still people passing by and the shitty blonde as well.

He was abashed to spit it out out of the blue but he didn’t regret saying those words. He just needs to let the frustration out that kept lingering inside him.

“Inosuke?”

The feral boy jolted and frantically looked at you whose smiling at him. Inosuke was astounded to see you here, and he didn’t even notice your presence just now!

“W-What are you doing here?!” He exclaimed causing him to stand up from his sitting position.

“I just have this feeling that I should chase you,” you answered.

A gust of nature’s wind blows your body as you shift your head to sight the pond. An awkward silence inundates between you two while the pretty boy merely gawked at your beauty once again.

Your hair was dancing through the wind as a content smile plastered on your pretty visage. He can perfectly see your well-defined nose, aligned jawline and how your haori sway in sync with your (colour) (length) hair.

Once again, Inosuke was bewitched by you. He absolutely won’t get tired staring at your face.

“What do you mean about earlier, Inosuke?” Now your gaze was diverted to him, his body involuntarily flinched and stared at your (colour) irises. Your smile just now was now gone and you’re looking at him with sobriety.

Inosuke feels a lump stuck inside his throat and he couldn’t utter a single word. His mind was becoming hazy and he just wanted to run away right now but Inosuke-sama isn’t the type to run away!

“I-I…”

“Now that reminds me, the other night when Nezuko suddenly lunged at me… Are you there at that time?” You asked with curiosity. The green-eyed boy took a glimpse at you then nodded.

“Well, why do you need me at that time? Were you going to say something to me?”

Is this a perfect time to confess to you today? No one’s here to interrupt you two but… Inosuke’s nervousness was preventing him to say those three fucking words! His face was starting to burn up and his head was becoming fuzzy.

“If you don’t tell her you love her, Zenitsu might take her away from you.”

Inosuke’s eyes widened upon recalling the words when Shinobu answered his feelings he has for you. Snapping his head to gaze at you, the boar head gradually stepped closer and closed the gap that you two have.

Arching your eyebrows, you only watched Inosuke coming closer to you and once he was already in front of you, he grabbed your shoulders and stared into your eyes.

“I love you, (Name)! I hate it when your attention was grabbed by someone! You know it frustrates me whenever your attention is with others instead of me! I will not let anyone take you away from me especially that dumbass coward!” He scowled.

His sudden confession made you shock, surprised and stunned. You don’t know what to say to him and your brain is not operating anymore.

“Be my mate, (Name)!” He said with devotion laced in his voice as he stared deeply into your eyes.

You sucked a breath thus bite your lower lip. You’re still assimilating his words because it feels so surreal to you specifically that you fell for this bestial boy. Inosuke was really full of wonderments and never cease to amaze you.

“You know that I love you too right?” You elicit a soft chuckle which causes Inosuke to release his grab on you and give you a dumbfounded expression.

“Really?” He said in incredulity.

“Yeah, really.”

Inosuke blinked a few times and processed your words into his brain. After minutes that feels like an eternity, the brawny boy took you by surprise by grabbing your waist and spin you around with so much happiness.

“You really love me?!” He asked once again, this time his eyes were sparkling in excitement.

“Yes, I do love you.” You flashed him a bright smile then Inosuke swiftly hugged you and cupped your face.

“I love you too, (Name)! You’re now my mate!” He declares then boisterously laugh. You only giggled at his dorkiness and kissed his cheeks.

“Yes, yes. I am now your mate.”

“Your attention is mine now, got that?!” You only sigh and nodded.

“Of course.” Then in a brisk, Inosuke gives you a peck on the forehead and bestow you a toothy grin.

“I now defeated Monjiro! Hahaha!”

You didn’t understand what he just declared but you just shrugged him off and let him feel giddy for now. Seeing a happy Inosuke makes you feel happy also, that’s how contagious he is to you.

#kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfiction #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #kimetsu no yaiba scenarios #inosuke hashibira #inosuke hashibira x reader #hashibira inosuke x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kny #kny x reader

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erinaceina · 4 years ago

Text

ScotsSwap 2020

Bombycine

Recipient: Jo (@notasapleasure). I hope I’ve done Jerott justice. It’s been absolute torture not talking to you about writing this <3

Prompt: Philippa and anyone as a BroTP, ‘Take the words 'sharp' 'alone' 'close[near]' 'missed' and give me some Pain :’)’ - it’s mainly alone and pain really, although Jerott has had some close encounters with sharp objects in the recent past. I hope it’s still delicious angst, even if it has wandered a bit off topic.

Setting: St. Mary’s, early autumn 1560.

Characters: Jerott Blyth, Philippa Crawford, Francis Crawford.

Relationships: Philippa + Jerott, Francis + Jerott, Philippa/Francis.

Rating: I’m not sure? References to things that happen to Khaireddin, but nothing explicit.

Summary: Sleep is not kind to Jerott Blyth.

Word Count: 2986.

Note: This is broadly compliant with this and this, mainly so I could squeeze Astraea the cat in there.

Spoilers: Non-specific spoilers for stuff that happens in Checkmate.

*******************************************************

The pain rose up to meet Jerott Blyth, mingled with the waters of the Middle Sea, and he drowned in the scent of spikenard and jasmine, in roiling fumes and obscene kisses and all the stench and horror of battle. Even as he fell, half-blind from the blow to his temple that had swept him overboard and the haze of gunpowder that hung, cloying, over the churning blue-green waters of the Mediterranean, he heard behind him the low, animal noises of the foundering ship.

The pain at shoulder and temple and thigh howled in awful harmony with the tortured screaming of overstressed timber and the crack of snapping lines. Flashes of light filled his failing vision, amber and gold and cornsilk-fair, yet, through them all, he could see glimpses of palm and pomegranate beneath a blistering African sun; the smell of storax and benzoin clung to the aching tissues of his throat and curdled in the saltwater filling his burning nostrils.

Although Mehedia lay more than a hundred and fifty miles distant, set on its strangling neck of land in the shining sea, passing vistas reached him through the sheet of blue water and yellow fire. He thought he could see flashes of gnarled grey-green olive groves and fields touched with the blush of new barley and smell the sun-warmed earth and the fetor of bombyx mori. Even as the roiling waters of the Middle Sea saturated his padded gambeson, drawing him down and down into the currents that eddied and swirled around him, down into the vortex of the foundering ship, he thought he could feel the splintering wood of a burning hut beneath the tips of his blistered fingers. Even as his useless arm hung wavering and limp as storm-wracked kelp and a ribbon of blood like scarlet silk wound through the water around him, he touched the soft, pliant curve of a child’s back and the damp weight of of amber hair tacky with cooling blood.

İpec böceǧi, called the dry, whispery voice of the old woman, and Jerott Blyth flinched. For this wast thou born? What lack is there in Scotland that her sons grow so feeble?

The saltwater again burned in Jerott Blyth’s nostrils and, with the sudden clarity of the sleeper and the man nearing death, he knew that the sea battle and the olive groves alike were the mere conjurings of a mind caught in a drugged stupor. Slitting open stinging eyes against the fetid, poisonous fumes of burning silk cocoons, tasting bitter almonds like charnel flesh on the back of his tongue, he saw with little surprise that he lay beside the discarded body of a fair-haired child on the rough floor of the warehouse belonging to the silk-farmer’s sister in Mehedia. The marks left by the mutes were livid on a face touched also by the griefs of a short life twisted and warped against itself.

The great impulse to live that dwelt within Jerott Blyth’s sturdy flesh took fresh flame, and, even against the will that cringed against it, he drew a dragging, acrid breath and smelt the cloying, indecent reek of the perfume that clung to the boy-child’s cooling flesh.

The cornflower-blue eyes were open and far-seeing beneath their heavy, slack lids as they had not been beneath the merciful bindings of Amiens or in the wreckage of a shattered face on a Northumbrian hillside. The soft, kitten’s mouth, still bearing the last, revolting brush of paint, formed words without breath, as parched as the desert air. İpec böceǧi, for this wast thou born? Is there no failure thou hast not encompassed?

*******************************************************

The gasping breath that woke Jerott Blyth was his own, rasping like poison in his chest, and his outflung arm howled with pain. For a moment, he thought he could feel the raw burns of Mehedia licking its length and he was back in Djerba - the Djerba of some seven years past - with Onophrion Zitwitz’s jellies melting on his tongue and the golden warmth of the North African sun spilling through the latticed windows of his convalescent room. For a moment, he burned again with fever on the boat fleeing the carnage of Djerba with Giovanni Andrea Doria fretting and fuming at the prow and Danny’s hand clasping his own and the utter failure of the Knights of St. John sour in a mouth that cracked and bled. With a blink against the enveloping darkness that admitted neither sunlight nor the deadly fire of an overturned brazier, he recognised the shadow of the bed curtains and the dim glow from the last embers of the fire dying in the hearth. A dint on the pillow by his head suggested the recent warmth of a cat, but he was utterly alone, neither prisoner nor knight.

With a hollow, awful noise, half sob, half laugh, Jerott buried his head in his shaking hands, feeling the trembling weakness in the injured arm and the aching memory of the old burns. It seemed to him that, like the silk moth which has no organs by which it can nourish itself, he lacked in that moment any means to sustain himself, and could merely exist in the labouring of his lungs and the eddying horror of the dream. Khaireddin, who he had failed to save; Marthe, whose death he had caused, however unwitting; Francis, who might have died by that same act of mercy; the boy Diccon, weeping before a father who turned an implacable face to him, the warm light of the afternoon gilding both their pale heads.

Although he had regretted his hasty words as soon as they were spoken - Damn it, Francis, he’s not one of your men to browbeat. Can you not show him half the pity you gave the other? - he felt the previous day’s anger kindle again at the memory of the cool displeasure in Francis’s eyes and the flat, uncompromising line of his mouth, even as his infant son tugged at his silken hose and begged to be held.

Mo cridh is a good little boy now, said the voice of that other child with the pitiless clarity of memory.

With no more conscious thought than the doomed silk moth, Jerott swung his legs over the edge of the bed, groping with chilled toes for the slippers that had been set out for him. Although the day had been warm for Scotland on the cusp of autumn, a decided chill hung in the night air and he shrugged into the borrowed robe, feeling it pull across the shoulders where it was cut for a slighter man.

In the near total darkness, he let his feet and memory guide him through the corridors of St. Mary’s, grateful at least that although the house no longer maintained its martial aspect, Francis’s taste did not yet run to endless trinkets and furbelows to trip the unwary. At the head of the stairs, something sleek and pale regarded him curiously from a ribbon of pale moonlight where a shutter stood ajar, but, before he could do more than peer blearily back, it disappeared into the recesses of a court cupboard made monstrous by the shadows.

Once, on a night such as this, Jerott Blyth might have sought the wine cellar and all its bottled comforts; once, Lymond might have locked it against just such an eventuality. Tonight, however, Jerott wandered through the silent house with no goal in his mind save to put as much space as the night permitted between himself and the fading echoes of his dream. His slippered feet padded softly across the expensive carpets and he recalled with a shudder the carpet painted with red and white in the in the selamlìk like a terrible exchequer counting out life and death - say goodnight to the dark.

Despite his meandering path, Jerott was not overly surprised when he lifted his eyes and found himself in the passageway leading to the great, vaulted kitchen. There would be fresh water there to wash the taste of bitter almonds and smoke from his mouth, thanks to some mechanical contrivance of Lancelot Plummer’s, and the cool of the Scots night under cloud-veiled stars through the door beyond.

He had already stepped through the door when he realised that long room was not empty; the faint glow from the banked hearth was matched by a candle flame and in its light a slim figure moved briskly from table to cupboard. Jerott froze, for a startled moment half-fearing some apparition from his dream, or, worse yet, an encounter with Lymond for which he was ill-prepared, but as the figure turned to greet him, he saw the fall of dark, unbound hair swing out around slender shoulders and recognised his hostess in a robe de chambre belonging, like Jerott’s own borrowed garment, no doubt, to her husband.

‘Jerott!’ Philippa came more fully into the light, her smile warming with more pleasure in the encounter than Jerott thought strictly reasonable for some time after two in the morning. ‘Couldn’t you sleep either?’

‘No,’ Jerott said shortly, and wondered what else he could say, but Philippa seemed unperturbed.

‘She gaue him milke, the slepe fell in his hede,’ she pronounced cheerfully. ‘I was making myself a posset, guaranteed by Kate to knock out half the county - of course, that’s in England. Would you like some?’

About to demur, Jerott was shepherded without delay to a seat at the well-scrubbed board and had an equally well-scrubbed lemon deposited in his nerveless hands. Half-hysterically, he found himself thinking that Djerba might have gone better with Philippa Crawford and not Giovanni Andrea Doria commanding the massed forces of Christendom. Taking the knife presented to him, he set to paring dutiful curls of zest and listened to the surprisingly comforting sounds as Philippa clattered around the kitchen, collecting the milk and cream from the cool slate and the sugar and nutmeg from the spice chest. As she worked, she hummed to herself, a fragment of Salve intemerata virgo, a snatch of a filthy ditty that he had heard on the docks at Leith. In short order, he found himself in possession of a steaming goblet of spiced posset aromatic with lemon and nutmeg and the Crawfords’ good French eau de vie, and being appraised frankly by the appallingly candid brown eyes of Francis’s child-bride.

A child no longer, he conceded with a shade of reluctance, although he could see the ghost of the scrubby and dishevelled adolescent alongside the the elegant courtier in the lines of her face as he squinted against the flickering warmth of the candlelight. A single lock of brown hair fell in disarray across her high brow, but, even in the dim light, it was glossy and well-trimmed, and the thin-fingered hands cupping the second goblet no longer showed the effects of diligent adolescent gnawing.

‘So,’ Philippa said conversationally, pushing a plate of sweetmeats towards him. ‘You saw Diccon’s argument with Francis.’

The posset soured in Jerott’s mouth. ‘Argument? He’s a child. He was crying. God, Philippa!’ Francis’s retort had, as ever, raised an angry and impotent resentment within him only made worse by the recognition that he was over-matched.

‘He’s Francis’s child,’ Philippa corrected gently. ‘He could pick a fight with a fencepost and is as highly strung as a papingo at a fair.’

Jerott subsided sulkily into his chair and eyed a sticky square of something dripping with honey and jewelled with candied nuts.

‘Baklava has many curative properties, but the banishment of nightmares is not one of them.’

As so often with Lymond, the softly spoken words left Jerott feeling as if he had been flensed and scoured raw, but there was a kindness in Philippa’s face that Lymond rarely permitted himself to display, and Jerott consciously relaxed the fingers clenched bitingly tight around the goblet until the ache of the healing wound in his shoulder subsided.

‘What, then? What possible reason could Francis have to treat his own son like that after… after…’

‘After losing Khaireddin? But if Diccon’s offence was no grave matter, neither was Francis’s.’ And in quick, amused words, Philippa sketched the outlines of a scene quite different to that which Jerott had seen - or thought he had seen: the tired, overexcited child; the hand tangled in the cat’s inviting fur until she awarded the barest scratch to her tormentor for this impertinent ambuscade; Francis’s insistence that Diccon should render his apologies to his feline friend before any consoling cuddle; child and cat alike falling asleep in Lymond’s lap even as he himself drowsed in the late sunlight. The light in the cornflower-blue eyes that had been not cold anger but a carefully corralled excess of emotion.

Philippa licked a crumb of honey-soaked semolina from her fingers and continued in a quieter voice, recalling the outspoken, stalwart child that Jerott remembered from the long-ago voyage, the terror and exhilaration alike of playing for Roxelana Sultàn, the dawning fear she had felt in the sultana’s gilded and grilled listening post above the Divan as she saw Jubrael Pasha for the first time. Kuzúm’s whipping and the despair of her wedding night in the French ambassador’s residence and the long journey home.

As if it were drawn out of him like a skein of silk unravelling, Jerott found himself responding in kind, telling the story of his ill-fated foray to Mehedia, the horror that he had found there and the coming horror that he had been unable to prevent. Just a quarter-hour’s difference, just a little more wit to see the danger surrounding him, just a little more strength in his arm… Remembering the obscene travesty of the kiss pressed into the crook of his neck, Jerott looked away, into the shadows that crowded the corners of the kitchen, but Philippa’s fingertips pressed lightly against his own, a benediction of a kind, as cleansing as any priestly absolution. In a flash, he remembered the calm of Francis’s face set against the crispness of his pillow in Amiens, the blind, blank eyes and bloodless visage and quick, expressive features shorn of all emotion.

İpec böceǧi, for this wast thou born?

And - no; they had stood as well as they might against a malicious and terrible will and had found beyond its bounds some place of refuge, though it had driven them over distant lands and wide seas. It had made of them something which none of them had been able to contemplate, both for good and for ill, and, as storm-wrack, they lay upon its farthest shore. If there was grief here in plenty and a lifetime of Graham Reid Malett’s ill works to be unravelled in Scotland, there was no shame in that.

Perhaps he was not formed as the horned worm of India, unable to sustain life even in others.

With a start, Jerott realised that the goblet was empty and cool beneath his fingers, the plate reduced to a scattering of crumbs and the first faint glow of dawn spilling through the high, narrow windows. The cat perched on one end of the long table, glowering at them through narrow green eyes and batting at a scrap of honeyed pastry with a desultory paw. Blinking against the sting of tears, as caustic as any poison, Jerott saw that Philippa’s lids were drooping, her chin propped on one hand and the other laid lightly on the curve of her belly suddenly revealed beneath the fine lawn of her shift where the embroidered silk of her gown had dropped away. ‘You must forgive Francis, you see,’ she said in a voice warm and soft with sleep. ‘It is difficult for him at the moment.’

‘I - yes - there is nothing to forgive,’ Jerott said, and found that he meant it. Perhaps, like the pelican, Francis would sustain these children with the last of his own heart’s blood, as he might have sustained his firstborn, were it not for Gabriel’s schemes, but the stubborn light in Philippa’s drowsy dark eyes suggested that she had decided opinions on the matter. And, with abrupt solicitude, ‘You should go to bed.’

‘A moment longer. Goo to Morpheus; thou knowist hym well.’

Rising to his feet against the protesting ache of his own muscles, he was surprised to find himself swept into a hug comprised half of peacock-embroidered silk and half of flying dark hair that filled his nose with the scent of chypre. Cautiously, he let his own arms close around Philippa and felt a great flood tide of weariness sweep over him, as if all barriers to sleep had been swept away and that welcoming sea rushed in, bearing all before it.

Disentangling himself with only a little difficult involving Philippa’s hair and the carved horn buttons fastening the sleeves of his robe, Jerott padded sleepily from the kitchen, the cat weaving lazy patterns around his bare calves.

*******************************************************

‘Well, yunitsa?’ asked the figure lounging in the entrance to the larder, a sleepy, sardonic smile crooking one corner of his long mouth and pale linen sleeves falling back from his sinewy arms as he brought his hands up to frame her face.

‘Well,’ Philippa confirmed, and pressed a kiss to the scarred wrist. ‘He’ll sleep tonight, at least. And you?’

‘I see Astraea has absented herself, so I suppose we will find ourselves the next targets of the infant’s hair-pulling fervour in far too short a time, but for now my sleep, like justice, requires a witness.’

‘Then let me be witness by sight and by sign.’ Philippa smiled up into his face, smoothing the fingers of one hand through the disordered silk of his yellow hair. ‘Come to bed, Francis. There is nothing more to put right in the world tonight.’

*******************************************************

Notes

The first three paragraphs draw heavily on the description of Jerott’s approach to Mehedia in Pawn in Frankincense, pp. 111-112.

İpec böceǧi - ‘silkworm’ in Turkish (I hope).

‘Like the silk moth which has no organs by which it can nourish itself’ - some version of this is repeated at various places in Pawn in Frankincense and also in Checkmate.

‘Mo cridh is a good little boy now’ - Pawn in Frankincense, p. 445, aka the most distressing line in the entirety of canon (and, let’s face it, there’s plenty of competition).

‘She gaue him milke, the slepe fell in his hede’ - John Lydgate, The Fall of Princes.

‘Goo to Morpheus; thou knowist hym well’ - Geoffrey Chaucer, Book of the Duchess.

#scotswap #lymond fanfic #my fic #philippa somerville #jerott blyth #francis crawford

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snakeboistan · 4 years ago

Text

Day 1: RING

Contains implied Karmagisa

“TAKE THAT, OKAJIMA!” Maehara yelled, aiming his water gun at his classmate’s back and drenching the other boy. He crowed with laughter at Okajima’s yelp of surprise, tossing his head back and raising his weapon over his head in victory as the drenched boy glared at him.

“MAEHARA, YOU DIRTY RAT!” Okajima cried in outrage, “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE!”

Maehara shrugged before giving Okajima a megawatt smile, “Well, last time I checked, this was a ‘every man for himself’ battle.”

“WHY YOU LITTLE-”

“Calm down, Okajima,” Maehara smiled pleasantly, “all’s fair in love and war.”

“So it is,” Isogai agreed from behind them. Maehara had only a few seconds before he was hit in the face with a splash of cold water.

“WHA-ISOGAI, HOW COULD YOU?!” the blond exclaimed in betrayal as Okajima burst into laughter.

“Hah, revenge,” he declared triumphantly, using one arm to lean on his knees and another to point at Maehara as his chortles caused him to double over.

It was currently after school and the boys of 3-E had spent their entire last lesson training for the upcoming baseball tournament against the Kunugigaoka Junior High Baseball Team under the watchful eye of ‘Coach Koro’. Days of practicing their running, batting and various other skills against an opponent that can move at Mach 20 under the blazing Tokyo sun had them beat and by the time Takabayashi had started to give the intel he gathered whilst spying on their actual opponents, their legs felt like jelly and they had all collapsed unceremoniously onto the ground, limbs akimbo. When their lesson was over, they had finally stopped panting and the redness of their cheeks had faded but they still found themselves far too warm so Kimura suggested that they have a friendly water fight to cool off, using the water guns that were stored in the storage shed. Everyone thought that that was a good idea and soon they found themselves spraying water at each other. Unfortunately, in E-Class, hardly anything stays ‘friendly’ for long: alliances were formed and destroyed, people were bribed and betrayed, guerilla tactics were used and suddenly a harmless idea to beat the heat suddenly became a game of survival of the fittest in their dense forest. Still, they were having fun so who cares?

“Yo, Nagisa,” Karma called over to Nagisa, who was standing next to Sugino and amusedly watching Kimura run through the forest with Mimura - who was carrying a water gun in both hands and shooting both of them at the same time - on him in a piggyback.

Nagisa turned his head to look at the taller boy with a smile, “Oh, hey, Karma. What’s up?”

Karma held up his water gun, “Just need a refill so I’m gonna head to the stream. Wanna join?”

“Sure,” Nagisa replied. He turned to Sugino, “you coming?”

Sugino hummed, “eh- why not? I think I’d like to avoid whatever it is that’s happening with that lot,” he threw his thumb over his shoulder to point at Okajima, Maehara and Isogai.

As the three of them made their way to the stream that ran across the mountain, Karma turned to Sugino, “So how are you feeling about going against Shindo now?”

The black-haired boy shrugged before scratching the back of his neck nervously, “to be honest, I don’t know? Sure, we’ve been practicing a lot but Shindo’s practically a pro - his fastball is like no other. He’s not the captain for nothing.”

Karma rolled his eyes, “Don’t let his ‘chosen one’ talk get to you. At the end of the day he’s just a junior high kid like the rest of us-” then Karma gave a cheshire cat grin, his eyes lighting up with devilish mischief as he rubbed his chin mock-thoughtfully, “-of course, if you’re so scared of him, we could teach him a lesson. Show him what happens when you get too proud.”

“What do you mean?” Nagisa eyed him wearily, all too familiar at the expression that the redhead had on.

“Oh nothing much. Just make him incapable of using his hands the day before the match.”

“KARMA!” the other boys yelled.

“What? It won’t be nothing he wouldn’t deserve,” at the disapproving looks he was given, he chuckled, “fine, fine. I was joking anyway.”

“Oh, look,” Sugino stated, pointing at the stream as a way to change the subject, “we’re here.”

They approached the water and Karma crouched down to fill up his gun when Nagisa cried, “hey what’s that?”

The blue-haired boy slowly approached the stream, scrutinising the water before scooping up a glinting piece of metal. He held up his clenched fist and opened it up to find an old, worn, slightly rusted ring of metal.

“A ring?” Sugino asked confusedly.

Karma held out his hand as if to silently ask the shorter male to hand it over. When he did, Karma clutched it with his thumb and forefinger, turning it around, “it must have been washed up from somewhere.”

Whilst Karma was inspecting the stained steel, their phones tinged to let them know to head back to the building. The redhead pocketed it without a word before they made their way to the classroom.

Once they got there, they were greeted by the sight of their classmates, who were completely soaked from head to toe.

“Woah,” Sugino laughed, “what happened to you guys?”

“Someone,” Yoshida gritted through his teeth, “decided to grab a bucket of ice cold water and throw it at us.”

Kimura held up a peace sign and stuck his tongue out, “at least I didn’t chase everyone with a hose.”

Yoshida crossed his arms with a smirk, “You guys are just jealous that you didn’t have that idea.”

The three mostly-dried students just looked at them in mirth when Nagisa felt eyes on him. He turned to look at Karma, whose eyes were lit up as if a lightbulb turned on inside his head.

“What is it, Karma?”

“I just have a question to ask you,” Karma answered, his face betraying no emotion.

“Which is…?”

“Shiota Nagisa,” Karma said solemnly before going down on one knee and holding up the old ring in one hand, “will you marry me?”

Nagisa blinked in surprise, his face remaining passive, as the rest of the class responded to Karma’s antics with choked splutters and held back laughter.

“No,” Nagisa said evenly, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

“Wha-why?”

Shaking his head, Nagisa decided not to dignify that with a response, before rolling his eyes and turning on his heel so that he could place his water gun back in the shed.

“Ouch, tough luck, man,” Maehara laughed, punching the now standing Karma on the shoulder.

“To be honest,” Isogai said, “I don’t think anyone would agree to the proposal like that.”

Terasaka smirked, “Nah. I think any one with a brain would reject a proposal from Akabane.”

Karma shot him a glare before looking at the ring in his hand. Smiling at himself, he pocketed it before jogging away to meet up with Nagisa.

#assassination classroom #AC writing prompt

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cupidmarwani-archive · 5 years ago

Text

The Rehabilitation of Ava Bekker (3/12)

Within a couple hours, Robin has shown Ava everything necessary. She’s seen the chickens and how to take their eggs. She’s met the cats and dogs. She’s gone to the long building full of smelly pigs and learned how to feed them. She’s been showed how to pick corn and shuck it. She’s found the hose for watering things. She’s explored the shed. Starting today, she’s in charge of digging the holes to plant rows of apple saplings. It’s a bit wet up here for apples, but Robin wants to start an orchard, and apples are the first step. Robin lent her gloves to protect her hands from the rough handle of the shovel because, honestly, Ava’s hands are not made for this work. They’re soft and slender, the hands of precision and art. Not grunt work. But she digs, careful and measured, until the hole is the right depth to pull a sapling out of its pot and place it.

Kneeling in the soil, she’s as intensely focused as she was at her old job on giving this little apple tree its place in the earth. Ava places it meticulously, repacks the dirt carefully around it and gives her a sense of accomplishment. This sapling has a chance. But there are still dozens more whose holes she must dig and roots must be spread. It’ll take forever.

This is what she gets for separating herself from Connor. She had tried so hard to help him understand her and love her like she loved him. Now this is some sort of purgatory, where she’s safe at last but the farthest thing from loved, and nowhere near any kind of peace. Out here, it’s just her and Robin, who has taken up residence making bread tainted with the flavorful spoils of the little garden by the porch. Ripe red tomatoes, fresh rosemary, and plants Ava can’t identify grow in their small patch and, from them, Robin sustains herself. Now that patch will sustain Ava, too.

She’s glad for the trucker hat purchased at the mall, bearing the emblem of a lady’s silhouette, to keep the sun off her face, but it does little for her neck and arms. She’s frying in the sun, and she’s certain her palms have blistered with the work of the shovel after only digging one hole. There’s so many more to go.

Wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, she presses on to the scent of sourdough and other things rising out the kitchen window. It’s a couple hundred feet away, and open to allow hot air to aid in proofing. For this purpose, Robin’s turned off the AC unit downstairs which, combined with the heat, will make the house less than pleasant when Ava comes in after her work is done.

She initially arrived just after lunch, calling to attention how hungry she is. She had dinner at the motel last night, and coffee and a danish for breakfast this morning. But she didn’t have lunch, and she also didn’t think to buy a water bottle. Some combination of the two is giving her a nasty headache to compete with every pain in the rest of her body.

It wouldn’t be difficult to pop inside for a glass of water and a snack. She doesn’t think it would make Robin upset. But it would be an admission of a mistake, and Ava’s so new that she worries the misstep will have her sent off in her truck again, perhaps without anywhere to go this time around. It’ll be just her and her picture of Connor again.

Would that really be so bad?

As she breaks ground on the next hole, she wonders how long it’ll take the apple trees to begin blossoming. And how soon after that they’ll provide fresh apples to explode tart in her mouth. Maybe she and Robin can make pie, cooling on the windowsill while cats wind around their feet and concoct plans to get to the dessert.

Ava’s always kind of wanted a cat.

She digs the shovel into the ground and steps on it for good measure, scooping as much dirt as she can in each round so she won’t have to do as many. Already her boots are caked with dirt, no longer clean, and she can picture tracking the particles inside and having to sweep after herself. The farmhouse is clean, she knows, and the dirt would be so obvious. She doesn’t like dirt. But it layers over her at the moment, and cleaning it off at the moment is useless.

Digging and digging, as the sky slowly goes from its crisp blue to an ugly yellow like straw, no clouds and no perfect angle to give it a beautiful color worth staring at. By the sun’s last call, she’s only managed a handful of trees, she’s exhausted, achy and hungry, and she doesn’t know if she’s meant to keep working until she accomplishes the task. Her deep breath fills her with more than just the allure of bread, but of chicken and onions and other things that turn sharp in the back of her throat and make her mouth water. She wants to eat. Is any of the food for her?

As she’s thinking, she hears Robin’s voice ripping through the still air. “You can finish that tomorrow, come eat!”

Ava’s beyond relieved and has to make a conscious effort not to just drop the shovel as opposed to leaning it up against the side of the house. She takes her boots off at the door, leaving them next to Robin’s. The house is cool again. Refreshing. She finds her way to the kitchen where the small table is already set for two. Across from Robin’s seat must be Ava’s, with a tall glass of water and a pitcher in front of it. A barrier between her and the meal. Chicken breast seasoned and laid out, veggies sliced into sandwich size, and clearly home-baked buns. Sandwiches. It’s something Connor had hated, insistent that he didn’t want bread and chicken in the same bite. If he were here, he’d eat everything separately and tease her light-heartedly for her choices.

“I didn’t see you with a water bottle, so you’re probably dehydrated. You should drink.”

Ava nods and, with the first sip of water, realizes Robin is right. Her throat was dry, and the water feels like a soothing balm applied over every inch of the inside of her body. Her arms are pink, her hands pale, when she reaches for a bun before realizing she should wash her hands. They’re gross. She’s gross. A shower is definitely in order.

“Do you not have sunscreen?” Robin asks, and it’s a jest bordering on the affectionate tone Ava misses so badly. “You got a little burned.”

“I forgot to apply.”

She sits back down and serves herself. The first bite is so much better than anything she had in Chicago. It must be because of how fresh it is. Unpreserved, unprocessed. It is real, real like the chasm in her chest and the photo of Connor still hidden away. After they eat, she’ll probably bring her things inside and put them in whatever room Robin allows her.

Robin takes the pitcher and refills her own glass. Fingerprints are left behind on the plastic as she eats her own meal. “I have an aloe plant upstairs, I’ll get you some to help with the burn.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Once Ava finishes her first sandwich, she’s still hungry and wishes she could have more. As she imagines it wistfully, staring at her plate, Robin nudges the buns toward her. “You know, you can have as much as you want.”

As much as she wants is a dangerous permission, but this time, it doesn’t feel like it. It feels kind, as Ava happily fixes herself another sandwich and buries herself in its taste.

@sapphiccsharks @bipeteypie @bookreader525 @lovxies

#chekker #ava bekker #robin charles #fic #mine #rab!fic

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aria-i-adagio · 5 years ago

Text

Masterpost

Fandom: The Arcana

Chapter rating: Lime

Wordcount: 6200

Now.

Nadia isn’t present at breakfast, which is just as well as far as I'm concerned. Something is bothering me about last night. I remember trying to reach Asra again via the fountain, but I don’t remember actually making contact with him. And yet, something about that doesn’t feel quite . . . accurate. There’s something absent, and something present as well. One of Asra's scarves. I suppose that I could have brought it back from the shop with me, but I think that it might be the one he was wearing when he left. I’d prefer to attempt to process all of this without the presence of a Countess who I still wasn’t sure about trusting. Also, Faust is currently curled up in my bag, and I’m sure I don't want to try explaining her presence should she decide to make herself known.

I take my time with breakfast, polishing off a pot of tea and several different variations on the theme of flaky dough pastry - all wonderfully delicious. A walk through the garden seems like a pleasant enough diversion until I decided what to do with the rest of my day.

Even though I take a different path through the maze, the turns bring me back to the fountain and the willow tree. The tree that has my name carved in it. Asra still hasn’t explained it. Faust pokes her head out of my bag. “Asra?”

“Not unless you know something I don’t.”

She tilts her head to the side - pointedly not answering my question if I do say so myself - then slithers out of my bag. She flicks her tail at me and curls her way up into the branches. “That’s not helpful.”

With a huff, I lean against the tree and trace my finger over the carving. I haven’t really looked at it in daylight. Even with the tree’s attempts to heal over, the cut marks remain jagged, almost violent in their energy, and still vibrating with the peculiar signature of Asra’s magic. Not that it helped. The sapphire pendant that I still had around my neck carries the same feeling, and it hadn’t done me a bit of good last night. I trace my finger over the letters. They’re more painful than before, a burning icy cold. My chest seizes suddenly, like a hand clenching around my heart, and I jerk forward with a gasp, hand breaking away from the tree.

Faust drops out of the tree and tongues at my cheek. “Okay?”

“What was that?”

“Memory.”

“Whose?”

She bleps her tongue against my chin and crawls back into the tree. “Still not helpful, Faust.” I catch my breath, staring at the letters in the tree - without touching them again. What had happened for so much excess energy to remain in the tree? And do I want to know?

I do, but I’m not touching this tree again.

Leaving Faust behind, I walk further into the boxwood labyrinth. The maze become less kempt as I get further from the palace. The hedges grow lower, and changing over from boxwoods to berry bushes. Finally the maze opens up into an orchard of carefully spaced peach and plum trees. Just beyond, I can hear a familiar voice shouting.

“Damn bird! Get out of here! Get him, Pepi!”

I step around a tree. Portia stands in the middle of a garden, swinging a hoe at a stunning white cockatoo that flapping around her head. A small seal point cat, joins her, jumping at and missing the bird, who finally screeching and flaps away.

“That’s right and stay away!”

“Protective much?”

“Oh!” Portia lets the head of the hose drop to the ground and spins on her heel. “Dema! Ah, here you are! Welcome to my little domain.” She gestures to a cheerily painted cottage behind her. “I had the morning off on account of Milady’s headache. Getting a bit of my own work done.”

“Can I help you?”

“Sure, just watch out for the graspgourds. They’re feisty today.”

“I’ll manage.” I kick aside a tendril that is flailing toward my ankle and hop over a bed of calendula and borage and kneel down in the dirt beside the patch of beans. Portia has them growing up a tidy row of frames formed from fallen branches. She’s mulched around the base of the plants, but as always, there are stubborn blades of yellow green grass and the deep green leaves morning glory poking their heads through the shredded wood. Somethings can’t be kept down, no matter how deep they’re buried. I grab one close to the base and pull it out, roots and all.

“You know what to pull, right?” She pauses in her hoeing and looks over at me. “Oh, you do. Good.”

“I have a garden at home.”

“Ooo, nice. What do you grow?”

“Mostly medicinal things. Horehound, valerian, echinacea, betony, lavender, poppy . . . And I always have a few beans and tomato plants, and greens in the winter. Asra is always bringing me back seeds that I might find useful or interesting, but I haven’t really had an opportunity to grow them all out yet. If you’d like some to try sometime.”

“I’d love that.” She swings her hoe down with greater force of a stubborn weed. I wonder if she uses the weeds as a target for frustration she otherwise has to repress. “The palace gardens are pretty, but they’re a bit . . . standardized for my tastes.”

Pepi saunters around the flower bed and pushes the side of her head against my leg. I pause and let her sniff my fingers. She butts her head against my hand and lets me scratch her under the chin.

“Portia, what’s your opinion of Valerius?”

“The Consul?” Another swing of the hoe, more forceful than is probably necessary - this is her outlet. “Hasn’t gotten himself out from the bottom of a bottle of wine since I’ve been here. Well, I take that back. He was sober at least part of the time when one of Milady’s sisters was here. Think he was a bit intimidated by them.”

Precisely what Valerius had predicted she’d say. But the other is a new detail. “One of Nadia’s sisters visited?”

“Yeah, Nazali - Dr. Satrinava. It was while Milady was still asleep. I like them. They taught me to read.” Another beat of the hoe on the ground. “Which is more than I can say for my dumbass brother. And they gave me a book of some of Milady’s favorite poetry to practice reading aloud to Milady while she was asleep. I like to think that helped.”

“One of her sisters is a doctor?”

“Oh, you’d like them. I hope they come. And early, so they can twist my brother’s ear and tell him off for being an idiot.”

“They come?”

Portia freezes, hoe held just above the ground. “I - I may have written to Milady’s sisters. About the masquerade. But . . . she doesn’t know so please, please don’t tell her. You won’t, will you?”

“Why wouldn’t she want her family here?”

Portia lets her hoe fall to the ground. “She doesn’t seem to care much for her sisters. I don’t know why. I mean, I’ve only met two of them, but they’re both amazing. I mean, Nazali is awesome enough, and Nahara - whew!” I suspect that final sigh is from more than the midday heat. She leans her hoe against the front porch rail of her cottage and dabs the sweat off her face. “Come on in for lunch, if you want. Nothing fancy, but I have plenty.”

I stand up and brush the dirt from my knees. “Thanks. Some not that fancy, actually sounds nice.”

The interior of Portia’s cottage is precisely what one would expect - cosy and homey. The walls are a cheery yellow and decorated with curling flowers painted around the window and door frames. There’s a sitting area with slightly worn, but overstuffed and comfortable looking chairs. Pepi hops up in one and kneads the knit blanket thrown over it before curling up into a little loaf of feline happiness. Portia tosses me a damp towel to clean my hands off will and busies herself in the small kitchen. “I hope you like borscht. It’s the summer version, of course. Nice and cool.” She sets a bowl on the table in front of me. It’s hardly what I would describe as not fancy. Bright pink, topped with a scoop of sour cream and a spring of borage blossoms.

“It almost looks too good to eat.”

“Well, don’t let that stop you!” With a laugh she turns back to the kitchenette then returns with a plate with some sort of cheese pastry. “And pita, my babushka’s recipe. Dig in.”

It’s delicious. The borscht is earthy and slightly sweet. I make a mental note to add beets to my garden rotation and to get the recipe from Portia to give to Asra. And the pita! It isn’t the flatbread from the market, but some layered magic of filo dough, salty cheese, and eggy goodness. “Portia, I will weed your garden anytime you want if you’ll feed me things like this.”

She smiles around a mouthful of the pita. “Well, Pepi approves of you, so you’re welcome anytime. Oh - I forgot, something to drink.” She gets up and returns a moment later with two earthenware mugs. “Just water, I’m afraid.”

Given the rather impressive amount of wine that I consumed last night, water is a very, very good idea. I take a sip. It’s lukewarm, and I work a quick spell to chill it. Portia notices the condensation forming and clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “You’ll take sick, drinking cold water like that.”

“Really?” Another sip. Much better cold.

“What all my babushki told me.”

I shrug. I haven’t gotten sick from drinking cold water yet. Another spoonful of the borscht. Why is it fine to eat that chilled, but not the water. No matter, I suppose. “Why did you invite Nadia’s sisters to the Masquerade?”

Portia sighs. “Well, Nazali, um, Dr. Satrinava wanted me to write when Milady woke. And I just want Milady to have some people around her who she can actually trust. Not the courtiers.”

I finish the last mouthful of borscht and set my spoon aside. “Yes, they are . . . I don’t even know what they are.”

“I don’t think they’re human. Except maybe Valerius. And he’s a self pickled human. Did you actually talk with him last night?”

“I did. He’s definitely gotten himself into a pickle. And the others -”

“Three are clowns, and Valdemar is something out of a nightmare. They’ve still got some sort of research lab underneath the palace. None of the servants are sure where it is, and none of us want to know.” She glances over at a clock on the wall. “Damn. I’ve got to get back to the palace. You can finish up, just let yourself out. If you don’t want to go back through the maze, just turn right at the hedge and walk around it. You’ll hit the southwest corner of the palace.”

I tidy up Portia’s kitchen once I’ve finished. It only seems polite after she fed me lunch, and followed her directions to bypass the maze. The orchard continues as I walk, turning to pear and apple trees, then into a stand of cherry trees. Disappointing that it’s too late into the summer for the cherries to be in season and too early for the pears. I wouldn’t have minded purloining a few of either.

The southwest corner of the palace appears to be isolated from the public eye, or at least I would conclude that based on the structural, rather than ornamental appearance. Brambles and creeper crawl up the rough cut granite blocks that fall away toward the moat below. The worst of the weeds have been scythed back recently, but it lacks the careful tending of the garden. In a single spot, the lush green foliage has died back, leaves browned and blackened in spots. Odd. I scramble down a broken stairway to get a closer look. There’s a sticky looking red liquid dripping from a crack in the stonework, oozing onto the ground below. The viscous substance has been leaking for sometime, forming a narrow path down the cracked pavers and into the moat below.

A slow current carries trail of red through the moat until it drains into a narrow stream. The reeds and cattails growing along the bank are withered and brown, when they should be at the height of their summer growth. That can’t be good. I walk around the moat until I find a narrow side bridge, cross over that, and then double back to the stream. Kneeling down by the bank, I examine the growth. The corruption is worst closest to the water, but it seems to be spreading to the vegetation further up the bank. The bodies of dead minnows litter the bottom of the stream bed, decomposing slowly into the mud.

The stream meanders through the grain field and toward one of the main aqueducts that supplies water to the city. I stand up and brush dirt off my knees. The dead vegetation continues as I follow the stream through the field. It doesn’t seem as severe when I get further from the palace and the red stain dilutes in the water, but there are still dead plants along the banks. Certainly this isn’t something that should be contaminating the city water supply, assuming the stream empties into the aqueduct.

It takes longer than I expected to reach the aqueduct. The stream doubles back on itself multiple times as it works through the uneven topography of the field and down toward the city. When I reach the aqueduct, the sun is low in the sky, and I’m dismayed, but unsurprised, to find that it does empty into the aqueduct. The red is faint by this point, but it’s still visible in the water. Even without the poison, this is sheer carelessness on the part of the civil engineers, especially given the likelihood that refuse from the palace ends up dumped in the moat and the various exotic animals residing therein.

I follow the aqueduct down to the reservoir that routes water to the fountains that dot the public squares of the south end of the city or into the canals that criss cross the city before finally emptying into the harbor. It’s growing dark when I come to the dam that holds the reservoir about ten feet over the canal below. I’m simultaneously surprised and not - given how fate seems to be working the past few days - to spot another person. He’s sitting on the edge of the dam, long legs dangling off the side, an unseasonably heavy black coat draped over his shoulders, and a head of familiar red brown hair.

“What are you doing here?”

When he looks up, eyebrows raised in surprise for a moment, then he falls back into his former pensive pose. “I’d ask you the same thing. But we just seem to keep running into each other.”

I sit down next to him on the edge of the dam. As I do, the bone white mask he’s holding in his hands catches my eye. I push back a wave of nausea and look away from it. “I followed a stream down from the palace. There’s some red liquid seeping into it from the palace and then into the aqueduct.”

“Huh? That’s . . . well, no one’s actually contracted the plague in years, it mustn’t make much of a difference.”

“But you do think it has something to do with the plague.”

He shrugs. “Maybe, but the city somehow survived all that.”

“A lot of people didn’t.” I don’t remember the plague, but along with what I’ve been told, the sheer number of abandoned houses scattered throughout the city testified to a decimating effect on the population.

His shoulder hunch further than they already were. “I know. Believe me, I know. I was useless enough then. Only more useless now. Not much use for a plague doctor when there’s no plague.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him turning the mask over in his hands. Then he tosses it away from him. It falls into the canal below with splash, and I can’t stop myself from breathing a sigh of relief.

“You really don’t like that thing, do you?”

“No.” It makes my breath catch in my throat and my skin crawl like I need to somehow get out of it in order to survive.

“Well, it’s gone now. One more piece of my past self slipping through my fingers.”

I’m quiet for a moment, unsure of how to respond. “Certainly you were something before you were a plague doctor?”

“Yes, well, have you ever seen the aftermath of a battle? I never knew if I was doing any good helping patch soldiers up. Not sure if it was doing them any favors to survive. Most died after a few days. Infection. You can only burn so much out with a hot iron.” He hangs his head, and I can’t stop the impulse to reach out and rub the back of his neck. He tilts his head back into my hand with a half suppressed groan, then drops his chin back onto his chest. “Working here, during the plague, well, um, really before the plague, it was the first time I felt like I was actually doing something with a purpose, instead of wandering aimlessly and trying to put out fires as I came across them, or, um, running from fires that I had set myself. But I suppose I wasn’t really.”

"When did you come to Vesuvia?” I allow my hand to drift halfway down his back, then pull it back into my lap.

"A few months before the plague reached here. I set up a clinic in the South End. It needed one. Nice to do something good, even if it wasn't what I was sent for."

"You had a different reason to be here?”

"My mentor sent me. We, they, studied the red plague. There was a pattern, you see. First an infestation of beetles, then red water, maybe from the beetles, wasn't clear. They thought Vesuvia might be next. Would've come themself, but, um, the Countess wouldn't have them. Family thing. So, anyway - "

A doctor the Countess refused to have in her court? Couldn't be too many of those. "Was your mentor Nazali Satrinava?"

He turns to me, one eye wide with shock. "I - how did you know that?”

Before I can answer, there’s a screech above us, and the raven - the same one from last night? - circles overhead. Julian straightens up. “Look sharp. Palace guards.” He pushes himself off the wall, landing nimbly on his feet, and holds a hand out, clearly intending to help me down. I reach out with one hand to take his and set my other palm on the dam to push myself off. But the stone I put my hand on is slick with some sort of mold, and I lose my balance and toppling over the wall and into the canal below.

The water closes over my head, unexpectedly cold in the summer heat. I float for a second, too shocked to try to figure out which way is up and which is down. A ribbon of white twists around me as I spin in the water and then a sudden, sharp pain grips my side. I double over in panic, then a strong hand seizes my arm, hauling me to the surface and onto the embankment.

“Dema, are you -? Oh hell, one of those damn eels.”

He pushes aside my shirt and I glance down at the eel, remembering Portia’s comment about how they can suck a man dry in minutes. It’s pale body pulses red with my blood. Mesmerizing really, watching life being sucked out of your body, even when your ears begin ringing and your vision swims from plummeting blood pressure. Not that bad of a way to go, the world dissolving into glimmering motes and then darkness creeping into your vision. Peripheral goes first, softly, almost gently into night . . .

Julian seizes the eel behind it’s jaws and jerks sharply. I yelp as the teeth tear free from my flesh. Long teeth, buried deep. I'm still losing blood, and rapidly. The raven circles us again, still screeching, and I think I can hear footsteps approaching. Julian pulls me to my feet, catching me as I waver and nearly fall back into the canal. “We need to get out of here. Can you walk? No, stupid question.” He picks me up easily and runs down the street. Each jostling step sends another shock of pain through my body, calling me back from wherever my mind is trying to drift off to. I’m dimly aware of being wrapped in his heavy coat and set down on the ground. I press my hand to my side and then pull it away sticky with blood.

“Oh, that can’t be good. Not good at all. Is it okay if I take a look at that?” Stars have started continue dancing in my field of vision even when I let my eyes close. I open my mouth, but I can’t manage to get any words out. “Okay, I have to take that as a yes.” He pushes my shirt aside again, and there’s another stab of pain as he touches the wound in my side. "Oh, that's bad." His voice sounds more distant than it did a moment before. "Don't worry, darling, you'll be fine. Just a moment." His hands pulls away from me, then touches again, flaring ice cold, just as it had the other night when he broke into my shop, and I hit my head on the doorframe. The chill radiates across my stomach. As my head stops swimming, the cold fades without leaving behind any trace of pain. I run my fingers over my abdomen. There’s still blood, but the wound is gone, leaving nothing behind. I open my eyes and sit up slowly, pushing myself back against the wall. Julian is still kneeling in the alley, clutching his head with his right hand. The left, tattoo marking a murder visible without his gloves, is pressed against his side, just over a blossoming red stain.

“What? How did you -?”

He groans and collapses forward, clutching at his own side. I scramble forward and grab his shoulders, maneuvering him around so that his back is against one of the walls. His head tilts back against the stone, revealing an intricate glowing mark on his throat. I place my hand against his neck, two fingers against the carotid artery - which is still beating strongly - and thumb barely touching the mark on his neck. I can’t quite place the geometric design; although, I've seen it before. I’m sure, just as sure as I am that the murder’s brand doesn’t belong on Julian’s hand.

He chuckles, but it’s a pained sound. “Admiring your master’s handiwork?”

The magic isn’t Asra’s. It doesn’t feel like his work. “What is this?” I move my hand away from his neck, letting it settle on his shoulder.

“A blessing and a curse. I, um, take away bodily wounds, but then I get to experience myself.” He groans again and puts his tattooed hand against the ground, like he’s about to try to stand. I push down firmly on his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t stand. That -” I start undoing the sash from around my waist. The first thing was to stop the bleeding, then get him somewhere with enough light to examine the wound. Maybe without the eel actually sucking, it wouldn't be so bad . . . Just something that could be cleaned up and bound with an astringent poultice to help stop the bleeding and protect against infection. Maybe. I had been close to dead a moment before. “Let me find something to -”

“Oh, don’t worry. Won’t last. Never does. Appropriate, eh? For a parting gift from a witch who fears commitment.”

I glance down at his side. The blood stain on his jacket is still growing underneath his fingers. I put my hand over his and press down firmly, trying to staunch the flow of blood. He shivers from the blood loss and lifts his head enough to look down at me.

“Of course, I’ve never been bitten by a vampire eel before. This, um, could be interesting.”

“Why did you -”

“What, help you? Right thing to do.” His head lolls back again, face contorted into a grimace. “Besides, something about you. Don’t want to let you get hurt . . .” His voice trails off. I move my free hand back to his neck. The mark is fading, but his heart is beating faster than before trying to get oxygen through him with insufficient volume. The next words are mumbled, faint enough that I almost don’t catch them. “Not this time.”

I sit back on my heels, keeping one hand lightly against his neck and the other pressed against his side. The bleeding slows, quicker than it should have, but still slower than I would have liked. This time? What did that mean? I feel like I know him from some time before, but he keeps referencing that he doesn’t know me. But then, he also already referenced his own memories of the plague being cloudy and confused.

“You could go, you know,” he mumbles. “It's healing already. I can tell.”

“Nope.”

“You should.”

“You said you helped me because it was the right thing to do. Staying with you now is also the right thing.” Not only did it not feel right to leave him presumably not actually bleeding out in alley, I wanted to know what he meant when he said this time. If he even knew. The grammar of this entire scenario was starting to make my head spin.

“Foolish of you, really.”

“You seem to like calling me that.”

“Heh, you noticed.” The same damn raven careens down the alley screaming at the top of its lungs. Julian staggers to his feet before I can stop him, then grabs my arm and hauls me up. “Come on, can’t hang around here.” He drags me down the street at a quick clip, managing not to stagger too much. I can hear footsteps on the streets behind us, the distinctive ratatatat of the hobnail boots worn by the palace guard. Shit. Still allowing Julian to drag me along I let my magic wander a bit from side to side, probing at the buildings, hoping to find one that’s been abandoned. Or . . . a hollow feeling space appears on my right . . . an empty garden with ironwork gate. That’ll do.

I dig my heels into the ground and pull Julian to a halt, something that I probably couldn’t have managed it he hadn’t just been hemorrhaging blood. “Here.” Before I can begin to work on undoing the locked gate with magic, Julian hisses something about no time, and boosts me over the gate, before pulling himself up and over. We both tumble into the overgrown shrubs - which I am exceedingly happy to discover are not roses - below. Julian presses a finger to my lips holding me still until the staccato rhythm of the guards’ boots have passed. He breathes a sigh of relief and then rolls over onto clearer ground.

“You’re not half bad at this escaping the guards thing. Nice little place you've found.”

The long untended garden is a riot of plant life. Beyond the now somewhat crushed shrubbery, ornamental willows hang low to the ground, creating a wonderfully (and conveniently) private little nook. Julian offers me a hand up, then wanders deeper into the space, one arm tucked tight to his side. Magic healing or not there’s almost no way that he didn’t reopen that wound jumping over the fence - not with a deep tear like that. I dust off my trousers and follow him further back into the overgrowth. He needs to lay down, and I don't think he will unless I make him.

There’s a surprising amount of statuary for this side of the city, all half covered by exuberant vines. I pause next to one and examine the tiny orange flowers covering the vine. Runner beans. Clever, if the current neighbors realized they had an edible plant flourishing next door. Julian flings his arms dramatically around the neck of one of the statues, some god or monster that’s impossible to identify with half of the face sloughed off from wear and tear.

“Fearsome looking fellow, don’t you think?”

“I don’t scare easily.”

"Oh, would you fancy a monster?”

The subtext isn’t hard to grasp. "You're not a monster." I push him back against the statue, intending to check his side. There’s still no light to speak of, the moon only having just begun to wax in the sky. But I can make do. He’s surprisingly pliable underneath my hands. As I expected, he did tear the bite back open, but the flesh seems to be knitting together once more. He gasps as I prod at the wound, but the sound isn’t quite one of pain. Then one arm wraps around my back and pulls me close to him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. If nothing else has killed me, this isn’t going to. Promise.”

I sigh and lean my forehead against him, one arm around his waist and the other on his chest. His heart - and mine to when I take a moment to pay attention to it - pounds from the adrenaline. But the longer we stand together, the more each of our pulses start to slow. I can't put words to why it feels right to be standing in dark, pressed against him, but it just is. And after the last few days, I'll take anything that feels right.

“I panicked when you hit that water.” His voice is a quiet whisper. He loosens his hold on me, just enough for me to take a half step back so that I can look up and see his face. His eyebrows are knit together with worry, even if I'm not the one still bleeding.

I smile then realize that he might not be able to see the expression in the dim light and pat his arm. “The eel was the real problem.”

He brushes his thumb across my cheeks. “But you're okay, right?”

“I'm fine.” I turn away from him. There's a low stone border along one of the garden beds, roughly a foot high. I hop up onto the narrow edge, hoping none of the stones are loose or I'll be taking another tumble. “Thanks to you.” The border seems stable if not actually quite wide enough to stand on easily. I hold my arms out and walk along it, balancing like a small child just for the fun of it. And it puts me closer to Julian's eye level. Closer, but not quite there.

He crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head, but there's an amused grin on his face. “You are too precious.”

“Precious?” I pause at the end of the border closest to him.

“Yes.” He leans down - standing on the stone wall didn't add that much to my height - and kisses my forehead gently. “Precious. Rare. Valuable. Something to protect.”

“Hmm, I don't know about that.” I grab a nearby branch and hop off the wall. The movement shakes a smattering of debris from the untended tree and onto my head. Excellent. More of a hot mess than ever.

Julian laughs and starts picking odds and ends out of my hair. He pauses, then draws his hand back. “Look you found another bit of beauty.” He holds out a small flower, delicately blue and faintly luminescent. I reach out for it, but he snatches it back. “Ah careful. There's poison in it. A few drops of oil distilled from this will end a man. Topple an empire of you use it right.”

He's got a smug look on his face. I take his hand in mine, holding the flower between us. “It's also a medicine. A miniscule dose taken regularly strengthens a weak heart.”

The smugness turns to surprise. “I . . . I did not know that.”

I shrug, doubtlessly looking just as smug as he did a moment ago. “I'm a better herbalist than a fortune teller. Additionally, it's a lovely addition to an ornamental garden. The climbing vine adds in an element of height.”

He tucks the flower behind my ear. “Again - precious.”

I narrow my eyes at him, slightly suspicious of the compliment, then pulled him deeper into the garden, before settling myself down on the ground beside one of the crumbling statues. He sits beside me and folds his long legs up in front of him. The flower falls from my hair as he brushes a loose, damp lock back from my face. His lips are tantalizing close to mine. I turn my face away before I give into the impulse to pick back up where we were interrupted the other morning and touch my hand to his side.

“Let me check that bite again.” I start pushing aside the fabric of his shirt. He shivers, just slightly, when I touch him. The wound is closing back up again after his scramble over the fence.

“It’s fine, it’ll be . . . oh.” The soft moan he makes as I press my fingers against him is definitely something other than pained and his hand wraps tightly around my arm. I look up and experimentally touch my fingers to the bite again. He stiffens, then his mouth is on mine, hungry and insistent. I shift one hand to the back of his neck and pull him closer to me. He pushes me back on the ground, lips moving from my mouth to my jaw to my neck, and lingering there for a few delicious moments before flipping us both over, so that I’m on top of him straddling his waist. He’s biting one side of his lower lip, and his face is flushed as he looks up at me. I nudge the bite with my knee and he groans again, eyes rolling back. My eyebrows arch with interest; although, somehow I'm not surprised. I can . . . work with this. Leaning over him, I close my teeth around his bottom lip and pull it from between his own, as I tighten my legs around his torso. I let go of his lip and though my cheek to his, mouth beside his ear.

"You like that, don't you?”

"Mmmm... Yes, I, oh -”

I cut him off with a hand over his mouth. "Don't talk too much, Julian."

His hands find my thighs, sliding along them as I sit back up and slide my hand from his mouth to his chin, while my other drags slowly down his chest. "I wonder what else you like?"

"Anything." His answer is barely a gasp.

"Anything?” I lean back down, pressing my lips to the corner of his jaw, then running my tongue along his neck to where it met his shoulder. Shifting more weight to my right hip to put pressure that bite, I grab his skin in my teeth, only moderately at first, but harder as his hands tighten around my thighs. He whines when I let go and circle my fingertips around the impressions of my teeth. In the dim light, I can just make out the purple bruise shifting to green then gray then nothing as it fades from his pale skin.

"Well, that must be frustrating for you."

He laughs quietly. "You have no idea, my darling."

We both go still and silent as the clatter of hobnail boots against cobblestones passes by again. They stop near the garden gate. I press my forehead to Julian's, keeping one hand over his mouth.

"I swear it was Devorak I saw running. Had some wench with him."

"Do you think they went in here?”

"Locked up."

"Could have jumped it though. That chain is rusty enough - can you break it?"

There's a sudden, sharp rap - metal against metal. Julian's eyes go wide, starting to panic. "Don't say anything," I hiss. I half sit up and quickly sketch a diagram in the air. A glamour that should both hide us and subtly push the guards attention elsewhere. Powerful, but it won't hold long.

Another clang and the sound of a chain falling away. Leaves crunch under the guards feet as they tromp through the garden. I stay perfectly still against Julian, pouring all my concentration into holding the glamour as long as possible. The footsteps stop right next to us. I cover Julian's mouth with one hand and hold my breath. Finally, one guard speaks.

"Nothing here but overgrown statues. Told you."

"Eh, no harm in checking. Due diligence and whatnot."

Leaves crunch as the guards walk away. Finally the gate screeches to a close and I can drop the glamour. With a sigh, I roll of him, laying back on the ground. "That was close."

"Too close." Julian sits up, then touches one hand to my forehead. "What did you do?”

"Magic. They couldn't see us." I flip myself over and get to my knees.

He narrows his eyes at me, then picks himself up off the ground before extending a hand. “We shouldn’t stay here. Come on, I’ve got a friend nearby, we can hole up at her place for the night.”

a/n: What do you mean you aren’t already listening to Devotchka? Why would withhold such wonderfulness from yourself? Besides, I stole this chapter title from them.

#the arcana #the arcana fanfiction #julian devorak #portia devorak #fan apprentice #arcana fanfic #dema #whatever i've done #my writing

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shitstrawhatssay · 7 years ago

Text

Andi

Commissioned fic for @inktostories

Kofi

Wealth, fame, power: for all these reasons and more, people were leaving home and in search of the One Piece. Was it a myth? Was it a reality? With Gold Roger skewered, it was hard to estimate what was more likely so there was only one way to truly find out. That is what triggered the Great Pirate Era: an era of hopes and dreams, of blood and violence, of stories that would become great bellowing songs in taverns or distance memories nearly forgotten.

In all sorts of logical ongoings, the output of pirates into the world is utterly unprecedented. It is astounding any work can be done on the mainland with the influx of pirates going out to sea. Such a curious phenomenon has Andi’s interest piqued. Ever since they were a child, they have had a fascination with all the ongoings around them and this has been an interest that was lovingly fostered by their parents. Perhaps, that was why the illogical evolution was for Andi to join the influx of those going out to sea in this era of hopes and dreams.

Or something like that anyway.

Having set out at age eighteen, it has been a long haul to where Andi had gotten to now. They’ve seen the bounties escalate in real time and read the newspapers on the deaths of Whitebeard and Fire Fist Ace. It’s been unreal to see so much history unfold just beyond their reach but still in front of their eyes. It was fortunate that many people were recording it: journalists are busy in this age.

And then there’s Andi whose dreams push just beyond the ordinary. They had big dreams and big plans. Yes, it would be nice to get hose first page articles in the newspaper but that wasn’t satisfying enough. Andi had something far grander in mind: a book to call their own.

Books are immortal and beautiful. They are wreathed in soft leather and scented of vintage parchment, it is hard not to love a book. In contrast, newspapers are flimsy and delicate. They yellow and tear easily. They are not remembered the way in which a book is remembered. Andi may not necessarily want to be remembered but this was a grand era in time which had to be immortalised in every way possible especially since this era had fostered an unusual cast of characters.

Pirates. There were so many weird and wonderful pirates. Yes, some were terrible and some would be remembered but there were just so many and each had a tale to spin. They deserved some recognition so Andi has set their sights on each and everyone of them. They wanted to compile a book with information on every single pirate to have taken arms upon the sea and set sail in this Great Pirate Era.

Their parents have been supportive of this goal, after all, Andi is talented enough to get out of any trouble they bumble into. Having set out at eighteen, much has changed in the four years Andi had been sailing. Part of their book had been put together but there was so much more to see and question especially with changing ideals and the Supernovas and the War. It all seemed to miraculous to watch this unfold in real time and to be able to pen the details as Andi saw them with their own eyes.

It was within that four years that Andi had realised something invaluable. Chaos can be trusted. Entropy is weird and wild and can usually be taken advantage of in some form or another. It was peacefulness and serenity and tranquility: all pretty ideas which had to be stayed the hell away from. Those long stretches of ocean without any sort of hazard are deceptive. At least chaos is upfront about its dangers which Andi can appreciate.

And, now, as they drop anchor for the night as a preventative of any useless wanderings, Andi realises something quite daunting. It’s been quiet for some time now. That, Andi decides, is very much not good and having led the life they have led, Andi knows from experience that such peace can only lead to disaster. The life, Andi has led, being one rife with chronic bad luck.

A disgustingly naive thought crosses Andi’s mind as they yawn. Surely, in the middle of nowhere with nothing but miles of blue, they would be safe from the arbitrary here. Even though it was in direct contradiction to everything Andi had learned over the years about bad luck, Andi trusted the falling night and the beautiful, starlit illumination of an empty sea that it brought. Goodness, it really was gorgeous out here.

Andi went below deck and rugged up in blankets on their bed. It was likely going to be a nice and normal, ordinary night. Andi quickly fell asleep despite a strange, nagging worry that something was going to go wrong because Andi was Andi and things always go wrong for Andi.

However, that strange, nagging feeling was validating not too much longer. Andi had probably gone to sleep about ten, maybe a bit before or maybe a bit after. Andi was woken up quite rudely two hours later, maybe a bit less or a bit more but for all intents and purposes, Andi had gotten to sleep and had gone a little bit of restorative shut eye before being woken up.

Andi had been tossed out of bed with a great start and hit their head on the floor. Which was very, very wet and with concern - rather than frustration - flooding their veins, Andi skipped the part where they were confused. They glanced around panickedly and saw that their hull had taken a lot of damage and they were quickly sinking.

They were sinking.

Andi’s mind went blank as they decided they needed to get into gear. Andi quickly shimmied up the ladder to the top deck and was awed by the large ship that had battered into their own, smaller one. Andi recognised the figurehead but wasn’t certain. Was it a flower or was it something else?

It was difficult to discern in the night’s minimal light. Andi squinted around the side and hoped to try and catch a name. Again, it was difficult.

“Oi!” a voice cried out.

Andi’s ship continued to sink.

“You alright?!” the voice continued.

Andi looked around and scrambled to a higher point on their ship. Their heart was slowly breaking.

“No?!” Andi yelled back.

“Okay.”

There was a dull thunk and a screech. A new voice in a hushed tone spoke.

“Hey, do something, that person probably needs help.”

“Oh? Oh! Okay.”

What happened next, Andi could barely believe but as frigid seawater lapped at their ankles, panic flooded them and their hair stod up on an end. In the darkness, something swung out at them and some snaked around their waist and hoisted them back. It sounded like the reel of a rubber hose but felt fleshy. If it wasn’t the lesser of two fears, Andi would likely be far more scared.

Andi screamed as they were whipped back and brought onto the deck of the large ship. Andi squirmed and was released. They ran to the edge of the ship and clutched onto the railing. As their ship sank, so did their heart and all the past years of research. Tears slipped down their face.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, that ain’t cool? What’s the matter, you need help to get somethin’ else off that ship? Don’t tell me, there’re others on there.”

Andi sobbed. “N-No, thankfully not. B-But my...my life’s work.”

“Uh-oh, Franky, can you see if you can do anything. I can’t imagine how soul crushing it would be to have my life’s work ruined. See if you can fish it out.” a woman - the second voice, actually - spoke.

“Gotcha.”

Andi turned away just as the last of their ship went underneath the black waters. They pawed at their face and tried to look presentable. Their eyes widened as they were able to see with the lights scattered about on the top deck.

“No way….” they gasped. They stared.

Their rescuers glanced about each other, as though sensing some sort of brewing confusion but it was quite the opposite. Andi already knew as much as there was known about these so-called “rescuers”. It was with these familiar faces, Andi was able to decide that this ship’s figurehead was not a flower but rather a lion.

“You… You’re Cyborg Franky. Cat Burglar Nami. Devil Child Robin. Pirate Hunter Zoro. Cotton Candy Lover Chopper. God Usopp. Black Leg Sanji. And, of course, Strawhat Monkey D. Luffy.”

“Fan...person?” Usopp said, raising an eyebrow.

“Sort of.”

“Ah, sane person.” Zoro corrected with a shark-like grin.

“Sort of.”

“Fun person!” Luffy decided with a grandiose beam.

He became visibly excited which made Andi all the more nervous.

“If academic history is your thing, most certainly but that’s not to say I don’t mind a good joke… just like my freaking life.”

“Franky, hurry up!” Nami roused.

“Yikes, I know!”

Franky bustled off and the group closed the gap of where he had been.

“So, what’s all this about, eh?” Usopp asked.

“I’m a freelance scribe.” Andi began. “My life’s work is an encyclopedia on every pirate I’ve met so far… Dammit, and… and now it’s gone forever!”

Andi’s fists balled by their side. They choked back a sob but they had snot hanging out their nose and tears on their cheeks regardless.

“Well, it’s lucky you ran into us then, right?” Luffy said with a shrug. “I mean, we’re pretty famous right?”

“Yeah, only captained by the man with the biggest debut bounty ever.” Andi huffed.

“And we know a thing or two about a few different pirates. Maybe we could help whilst Franky fishes out the wreckage of your boat.” Nami said.

“Sounds wonderful, and I shall make us all some midnight snacks, what do you say… my lady?” Sanji said.

“I mean, I am hungry but I am not your lady. Or a lady at all… at least not right now. I’m havin’ bit of a masculine kinda day but…” Andi trailed off.

“What do you say, my gentlemen?” Sanji corrected himself.

“A li’l bit better.” Andi murmured.

“How about we set you up in the office then, and we can work out sleeping arrangements, oh my, it seems we haven’t caught your name even though you know ours.” Robin said.

“Ah! How rude of me! I was so caught up in my drama that I forgot. I’m Andi. Just Andi.”

“Short, snappy, I like it.” Zoro nodded to himself before yawning. He chucked a glance at Sanji. “Oi, curly cook, count me out in the portions. I’m headin’ back to bed.”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Duly noted.”

Andi was terrified at first. They had met pirates of all sorts of calibre - usually low but still, they were bloodthirsty and scary regardless - and was ready to fight or flee at a moment’s notice, and yet… Andi was made to feel welcome upon this ship: the Thousand Sunny Go.

The office Andi was given permission to use until further notice was homey. The food Sanji prepared for them was beyond belief. Andi had never tasted more divine cuisine and Sanji was talking about this was just something simple to whip up and yet, Andi couldn’t devise a simple way in which such intricate treats could be made so quickly. Nami, Robin, and Chopper were helpful. They hovered, yes, but they made interesting comments about what Andi should add to their new notes. Luffy, however, was annoying and far too happy to chalk many things up to a mystery but he was funny. It was endearing.

Overall, it was all dreamy and beyond belief. Andi had never been treated this way except by their own family. They felt more than an acquaintance to these easygoing, happy-go-lucky pirates despite the way they had met and the fact that it had only been mere hours since meeting and they felt more kindred to them than merely a friend. It was bizarre.

And given the stories they were spurning about Alabasta and the Fishman Island and more, Andi was beginning to think that this was not a lone incident. Andi was beginning to think that the Strawhat Pirates simply had this affect on anyone who crossed their path without instigating too much of a fight. How peculiar. But Andi liked it.

Loved it even.

By morning come, Andi truly felt like one of the gang. More importntly, by morning come, Franky had returned with remnants of their ship and their belongings. What could be savalged was minimal but Andi cherished the effort.

That being said, there was one among the Strawhats who didn’t seem all that taken with them. Andi supposed that not everyone would find them a novelty but they didn’t expect that among such a lackadaisical bunch, there would be one who seemed outwardly hostile to them. That person was Usopp.

The rumours of Usopp were… odd to say the least, or so Andi had come across in their journeys. Some reports recorded him as a brae warriror of the sea. Others, wrote him in speech as a bard or minstrel or similar with a voice that could ensnare all minds, no matter how rational, and make them believe in nonsensical lies. Andi wasn’t sure what to believe. Usopp was complex.

Sometimes he was of bravdo and humour, other times he cowered in fear and was arguably slothful. But none of it explained his hostility towards Andi. A hostility that continued well after two days of having settled in.

Slowly becoming uset by the outward aggression, Andi decided that it was time to do something about it. The other Strawhat Pirates had welcomed them with open arms and Andi wanted the whole set so speak. So, they set to a task by themselves: to convince Usopp they weren’t untrustworthy or unfriendly.

Andi really wanted to befriend Usopp. They felt as though they and Usopp could be kindred souls as they were both story-tellers. Surely, someone of Usopp’s calibre of scribe would be willing to cooperate so it was imperative that Andi befriend him.

Andi’s plan was simple. All they wanted was to get to the root cause of Usopp’s animosity and see if it could be resolved from there. This meant that all Andi had to do was somehow corner Usopp and force them to talk. Despite it being a forced meeting, surely discourse of a civil manner could be born.

However, Andi being Andi, things could not naturally be so simple.

Andi had been observing Usopp for the past hour. He had been flicking between reading and fishing to idle his time on the calm seas. He was set in a loose pattern but one Andi could take advantage of nonetheless as lunch came nearer still on the clock and Usopp had to be getting hungry as he was out of snacks and hadn’t visited the kitchen in a while. More importantly, Sanji had visited earlier to let him know there’d be a place at the table for him soon too and this gave Andi an excellent opportunity.

Andi hid themselves behind a wall and watched as Usopp began to walk past. With a one and a two, Andi sprung out from their hiding spot. They crash tackled into Usopp and Usopp’s back his the deck. Together, they skidded off. Andi screamed. Usopp yelped.

Soon enough, Usopp was pinned beneath Andi.

“Get off me!” Usopp yelled.

Andi would have liked to pause to think but this was not a time for thinking.

“No! We need to talk!” Andi shouted back; going red in the cheeks.

“Why do we need to talk?” Usopp asked.

“I know you don’t like me and I want to know why.” Andi replied.

Usopp propped himself up and Andi slid down his legs; he was still effectively anchored and trapped though. He frowned as he played with his hair.

“I don’t trust like that.” Usopp replied, hesitantly.

“What do you mean?” Andi asked.

“I just don’t like that you know so much. It’s… disconcerting.” Usopp replied.

“…Huh?” Andi replied. They didn’t see the logic in that at al.

Upon seeing the confusion on Andi’s face, Usopp erred. His brows twitched and Andi laughed.

“I still don’t get it.”

“It’s just, nothing good has ever come from someone knowing too much. Especially since we’re not exactly the type to be of thorough thought ‘round here.” Usopp explained.

“I’ve noticed.” Andi joked.

Usopp ruffled at the back of his hair, pinned up in a ponytail. He smiled awkwardly.

“Do you wanna get off me yet?” he asked, cheeks tinging pink.

Andi’s nerves jolted. They got off him and now their cheeks were pink to match. Laughing nervously, Andi offered a hand to Usopp. With a yank, he anchored himself and Andi helped him.

Now Andi was nervous for a different reason. They realised they had been straddling Usopp – more or less. How embarrassing! For them both, too. Not to mention, now that Andi had been up close and personal with Usopp, they could tell that Usopp was a rather remarkable looking fellow with his long hair and toned body. It could attract anyone. Even someone like Andi. Friendship had been the desired outcome of this incident but now infatuation was beginning to bud in Andi’s heart.

At least, for now, Andi could cherish Usopp’s companionship. With him won over, things were far different. They had a lot in common. Perhaps it was that which had led to a barrier in the first place as opposites attracts and likes tended to repel each other, like magnets. Though, that can’t be the case now. Now, they were thick as thieves. Everyone in the ranks of the Strawhat Pirates were joking and teasing about it; seemingly unable to bring up one without the other. It was strangely flattering.

Both were scribes of the sea with tongues for telling tall tales. Usopp had a beautiful mind. He had a blunt way of putting things: simplistic and stylised though but a linear narrative nonetheless and yet the stories he conveyed were comedic and entertaining. He had quite a talent. Though, to begin with, Andi did struggle to discern truth and lies but they were beginning to get a grasp on his ticks now.

It was because of this budding friendship and gift of the gab of his, that Andi was able to restock their damaged notes and add more. The Strawhats had been on so many amazing and nearly unbelievable adventures but the truths of them were worth their weight in gold. Andi was now part of part of an exclusive and privileged party to get their account first hand. From Buggy the Pirate Clown to the Warlords of the Sea to the Four Emperors: the connections the Strawhats held were astounding.

Eventually, Andi was told to pick absolutely anyone who was on their good side. Anyone who they wanted to interview, anyone at all and the Strawhats assured them that Andi would be able to strike an interview with that person because of their friendship with the Strawhats.

It was an enticing offer. It was one Andi was even quick to accept until other ideas began to float through their head. They had some time to consider who they wanted to track down so Nami can navigate the appropriate course, but Andi knew they weren’t going to use the two days they had docked to think about that. No, Andi was going to use this time to consider their feelings. The interview can be an impulse but this other ting playing on Andi’s mind was something that deserved thorough thought.

The feelings regarding Usopp were complicated, Andi found. It was far too soon to decide upon the true extent of romantic implications, but Andi was enamoured with Usopp’s company; far beyond that of friendship. They wanted to at the very least verbalise this confusing, fluttery feelings that cause their heart to skip a beat, their cheeks to redden, and their palms to sweat.

Time was limited between them. It was foolish and ephemeral, but Andi wanted to give these feelings a chance regardless. So, whilst their ship was being built – not rebuilt, built from scratch by Franky’s designs – Andi made plans based on these strange feelings and faint thoughts.

Andi watched idly as their new ship went from being sketches on paper to a wooden skeleton to an almost complete ship. It was soothing to watch the construction and helping Franky helped filled the time. Andi had heard once that menial labour can facilitate the higher thinking part of the brain and with all these murky thoughts, helping screw small together or adding a slap of paint was a comfort that made things strangely clearer.

Upon the completion of Andi’s new ship, Luffy decided it was good cause for a farewell party and being pirates, none of his crewmates could resist the idea. Sanji made enough food to feed a few dozen armies and Brook played gorgeous melodies upon his violin. Jokes and stories were told; some danced. It was great fun.

Andi really enjoyed themselves. A party on the docks, listening to music and the ocean lap at the shores. Lights in houses behind them sparkled and there was a coolness in the air that was soft and romantic even. And yet, despite all the gorgeous ambience, Andi found themselves in utter denial of all the thinking and resolving they had done. They also fond themselves in utter denial of Usopp. Consciously avoided hi despite his confusion but he kept distance to be courteous, just in case.

Andi kept reasoning with themselves that this was the most reasonable thing to do.

But the end of the night was drawing nearer. The fun around Andi was inescapable and contagious and though they were enjoying themselves on the surface, their memories were slowly becoming tinged by regret from inaction. From that regret, a new resolve was born though faint, Andi wanted to trust their heart, so they were the one to scoot in next to Usopp.

He looked a little bit weary. Who wasn’t? It was past midnight, after all.

Andi sat next to him and he sat in closer to Andi. Their shoulders brushed together and hands fumbled. Usopp chuckled awkwardly. He spoke first.

“Hey Andi. So, uh, is it me or, um, are you – were you – avoiding me?”

Andi laughed back and averted their gaze. “Uh, yeah… I was, kinda.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No! Not at all! I just needed… space.”

“Yeah, I know that feel. It’s a big ship but it’s easy to get overcrowded.”

“That’s not… it.” Andi hesitantly replied.

Usopp’s eyes widened as he turned his head slightly, “It’s not?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Then what is it then?”

Andi turned their body towards Usopp and took a breath. Usopp’s body language became surprised before steadying. He could tell that Andi had a lot to say and he intended to listen carefully. He knew what was about to happen wasn’t going to be some happy-go-lucky story or the like. This was serious. And, he would respectfully meet the matter with his own sternness.

“Usopp, um, I…” Andi faltered with their words. They took another breath and their eyes gleamed with a newfound confidence and resolve. “We haven’t known each other for very long but I feel like we have a connection. Am I wrong in thinking that?”

“What? Not at all. I feel the same. We get along great. I mean, we’re a bit different to each other but we make each other laugh and stuff. It’s very easy to get caught up in, well, friendship, I think, and I think we’ve got a connection too.” Usopp explained honestly.

Andi blushed and their heart hammered. There was an underlying bait in what Usopp had said. He hadn’t intended as such, but it encouraged Andi to keep pushing at these feelings; at this conversation.

“It’s just…” Andi hesitated again.

They could barely hear their thoughts of their heart but maybe that was a good thing because it allowed them to feel intuitively what they needed to say rather than overcomplicate it. “It’s just I think I like you.”

“Like me? Well, I’m glad. I like you too, Andi.” Usopp replied.

Andi frowned, huffed. “No, I like you like you. Like-like you.”

Usopp’s eyes widened and his jaw slackened. He murmured, repeatedly: “Oh… O-Oh… Oh…”

It would have been endearing had it not been excruciating to listen to. It was like he was attempting to record the information in his brain, but it was just getting continually rejected and thus, needed to process again and again. It was horrible.

At least it was, until, Usopp shut himself up with a big breath and he turned slightly ajar from Andi. Andi felt as though their hopes had been dashed. Had they been wrong?

“I’m… I feel the same way.” Usopp murmured, almost beneath his breath.

Andi lifted their head. Now it was them whose eyes were widening. Their heart fluttered in their chest. It was a sweet, twinkling feeling devoid of fear or anguish. It was pure and chaste.

“Y-You do?” they manage stutter out over their rapid heartbeats.

Usopp scratched at the back of his head, shy, then affirmed Andi simply: “Yeah.”

A moment of sweetness blossomed between them where they fumbled with the ramifications of their confessions. A sweetness soon tainted by bitterness. It was such terrible timing. Both led temporary lives on the sea, battered by the winds and going with the waves. It was hard to coordinate meetings and Andi, though a brave rapscallion of a person, was a civilian and Usopp a pirate. It was such unfortunate circumstance.

But that didn’t mean it had to be hopeless.

Andi looked towards Usopp. “We might only have tonight but perhaps, it could be worth it.” they said.

“Yeah, maybe.” Usopp replied.

Andi yawned but leaned in. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be just tonight. Perhaps it was just going to be now: a bittersweet and ephemeral moment on an everchanging clock.

Reading their cues, Usopp leaned in also and he put his hand over Andi’s. Andi’s hands were writer’s hands. They were soft and unworked by strenuous labour, like that of carpentry or paving, but they were ink-stained and callouses rose from odd places upon their fingers. Small and squishy-feeling, Usopp liked Andi’s hands.

Andi puckered their lips and met Usopp’s. Usopp’s lips were chapped by hours spent at sea, in the razor wind. His nose, awkwardly long, bumped against Andi’s face. It was strange but not necessarily unpleasant. It was a good, chaste kiss that seemed to slow the world. It seemed to extent the ephemeral moment their feelings were taking place within but it wasn’t enough to completely stop the flow of time.

They needed breath eventually, so they pulled away. Disjointed and awkward, worried about how they had performed. Strangely sheepish, even, because of their kiss.

“How… was it?” Usopp asked.

“Good, good, great – excellent even!” Andi yipped before going red. “Not that I have a frame of reference or anything… That was my, my um, first kiss.”

“Oh. Oh…” Usopp muttered.

“You’ve had past experiences?” Andi asked, not intending to pry but the journalistic sense within them was trying to demand otherwise.

“Uh, yeah, my childhood friend. Kaya. She was my first kiss and crush. But you’re really different to her. Apples and oranges, I guess you’d say.” Usopp rambled.

“It’s fine.” Andi almost panickily stated.

There was a lull in conversation and awkwardness permeated them both as they were left to dwell upon the fact all they had was a moment and now the moment was gone. There was little else to say and do besides ponder the missed connection. If they had met sooner, if they had later: a lot could have been different. But it hadn’t. It had been this.

Soon, tiredness set it and the party came to a faded and dwindled conclusion. If, it truly ended at all. Perhaps it merely moved to another moment in time, much like what would happen to the feelings Andi had harboured.

They didn’t regret it. That had been the best course of action. It was better to have lost and loved than to never have loved at all; fumbling with loose-ends and potential possibilities. As bittersweet as it was, it was better than the regret of what if?

The following mid-morning, it was time for Andi to set sail onto their next adventure. With Dracule Mihawk in their sights, that was the adventure and knowledge Andi wanted to chase; with a recommendation from Mihawk’s ex-pupil Zoro, of course. Still, it was bittersweet to go.

“I’ll miss all of you.” Andi called out from atop their newly varnished deck.

“We’ll miss you to!” Luffy called out.

“Some of us more than others.” Sanji teased; he nudged Usopp who sheepishly blushed.

“Don’t worry ‘bout Mihawk, he’s all bark an’ no bite; he’ll love you!” Zoro added, thankfully salvaging the conversation from an embarrassing turn.

“Thanks.” Andi added.

They were intimidated. Mihawk was a warlord after all. He was a fearsome, fearsome man and, yet Zoro spoke of him softly, gently, despite their scuffled meeting in the East Blue. Andi supposed cohabitation would train things, even when under the guise of an enemies-like relationship.

Andi firmly believed now, having met the Pirate Hunter, that he would one day achieve his dream and take Mihawk’s claim from him. Andi looked forward to meeting him then subsequently interviewing. Based on Zoro’s tales, he sounded like a cool and honourable man who has seen much and would, therefore, benefit Andi’s notes.

“Thank you for having me and thank you for building my ship after you destroyed it. Thank you for sharing your stories with me.” Andi gushed as they fidgeted with ropes.

Their boat was designed to be able to keep guests whilst only being staffed by a lone person. There were all sorts of kooky contraptions and mechanics to allow for Andi to do the work of multiple workers. They appreciated Franky for all the countermeasures they were slowly familiarising themselves with.

“My heart would break if any of these dweebs destroyed my work – and they have in the past. You have my sympathies. I hope nothing like this happens again in the future, Andi!” Nami called out.

Andi reeled back the anchor and their ship began to move out. Luffy threw his hands in the air upon noticing. He waved them ferociously through the air with a silly grin on his face. All the faces of all the Strawhats seemed both happy and sorrowful: parting continues to ring true as such a sweet sorrow.

“Bye, bye, Andi: I hope we meet again!” Luffy called.

“Yes, I do too!” Andi called back. “And you, young man, had better be King of the Pirates by then!”

“Hell’s yeah I will be!” Luffy laughed.

Andi slipped away from the railing. Their smile shortened upon their face and their heart grew heavy but that’s just goodbyes were like. They didn’t want to, but they turned their back on the Strawhat Pirates. They were probably doing the same. They didn’t have all day, after all. This was a busy port. They needed to go just as much as Andi, lest Marines decide they’re easy prey or rival pirates. Anything could happen.

Andi visited the figurehead of the ship. Franky had asked what their favourite animal was so Andi had replied and now they had an adorable elephant to lead them through their voyages. It wasn’t particularly fearsome-looking, no, not all, but Andi cherished it as they ran their hand over the wood of it. It was so sleek. It was nice to the touch. Andi could understand better now why the figurehead doubled as Luffy’s favourite seat on a ship. It had a lovely view too.

The voyage to Kuraigana Island was long and hard but it was journey Andi was able to make just fine. They missed the bustling company of the Strawhat Pirates and it made them yearn for friends once more. But they were a somewhat introverted person, so they appreciated the peace. It was hard to strike balance between being overcrowded and not being crowded enough.

As they drew nearer to Kuraigana Island, they wondered if Mihawk had that problem too. Mentally, it was hard to realise Mihawk was just as human as anyone else, but his eyes were so avian and his reputation so fearsome, it was hard to categorise him anything human at all.

Kuraigana Island was every bit as creepy as Andi had been warned it would be. It was swathed with a thick mist that seemed almost teal as it clung to the frigid air. It was mossy moors and swamps. It was eerie and quiet except for the cacophonic singing of a young woman: Perona, if Andi was correct by what Zoro had told them.

They docked by a rickety pier and dropped anchor. They looked around. Their heart pounded as they swallowed muddy breaths. Andi was well aware of the dangers hidden in the mists, but it was a clear path from this beach to the castle. Andi could see it through shadows and mystique. It excited them. They clutched excitedly onto their stationery as they clambered down.

This would be their next adventure. The next knowledge found and recorded. Surely nothing could go wrong.

#mod stuff #not a quote #inktostories #commissioned fic #one piece #opfanfic #i will only be posting it here #hoo boy this is huge #commissions will be closed for a bit unless you want fortune telling btw #this has left me drained tbh #but i love andi and i hope i have done them justice

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aria-i-adagio · 5 years ago

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Ch. 10: Bad Luck Heels

Fandom: The Arcana

Chapter Rating: Lime

Worldcount: 6200