#and the silhouettes across the water of the other nearby islands

[eowyntheavenger]

I'm back from my five week trip to the South Pacific (I actually came back at the beginning of the month but I've been recovering from jet lag) and IT WAS LITERALLY SO GREAT!!!!!!!!! I went to Australia, then Papua New Guinea, then Solomon Islands and finally Indonesia. The best thing was getting to meet regular people and make friends in Papua New Guinea. And the other best thing was just how BEAUTIFUL these countries are. I literally cannot wait to go back!!!

#personal #I'm so happy you don't even know #I went snorkeling at a WWII wreck! #I saw a bird of paradise! #I had the most delicious pineapple of all time #everywhere you look in Papua New Guinea it's so GREEN and the mountains are so beautiful and there are gorgeous rivers and waterfalls #and Honiara was so picturesque with idyllic beaches and palm trees and the rugged mountains in the middle of the island #and the silhouettes across the water of the other nearby islands #I was in Papua New Guinea for two weeks #and Honiara for 4 days #< not long enough

[lifeofkaze]

Crimson Tide, Deep Blue Sea - Chapter 5

Charlie x MC Pirate AU

Find the masterlist to this story here, the previous chapter here, and the next one here.

Warnings: Mentions of blood

The moment the last sliver of the orange glowing sun sunk into the sea, a blinding flash of green light flared across Charlie’s vision. He blinked frantically and gripped the railing of the crow’s nest tightly as a dizzying feeling washed over him. Once he had regained his sight, his mouth gaped open.

Where before the horizon had stretched into endlessness, Charlie could now see a small structure rising out of the waters in the distance, its silhouette jagged and rocky against the quickly darkening sky; it reminded Charlie of the shark tooth Bill wore dangling from his ear. Ava turned from the sight, not looking the least bit surprised.

“Welcome to the Isla des Cuervos,” she said and glanced his way. “Now it’s your turn, helmsman.”

Shaking himself out of his wonder, Charlie was quick to climb down the rigging after her, shouting Bill’s name before he had even reached the deck.

Approaching the small rock formation proved to be the most difficult course Charlie had ever steered the Molly's Wrath through; more than once he was convinced they’d hit some underwater rocks or would run onto ground on a hidden stretch of shallow water. He was relieved when Bill and Ava eventually joined him at the steering wheel to tell him they were close enough.

Most of the crew were too spooked by the sudden appearance of the island to even consider joining the shore leave, so it was only Bill, Charlie and Ava in the small lifeboat setting out for the rocky shore. The closer they came, the more silent the group fell; there was something about this island that made Charlie’s throat feel constricted, and every word lying on his tongue felt too heavy to leave his lips.

Ava sat at the front of the boat; she had her body turned towards the island, and her spine was painfully erect. One of her hands was gripping the fabric of her coat, the other clutching the black stone around her neck.

When set foot onto the rocky beach, Charlie and Bill shared a look, not sure where to go now. They started discussing what to do next, but Ava didn’t pay any attention to them; she was watching the darkening sky with a grim expression.

A winged shadow passed over her head and flew in the direction of a nearby cave Charlie hadn’t noticed was there. Ava followed her raven immediately, Charlie and Bill falling into step behind her.

“How does that bird know where to go?” Charlie asked. “What is this place?”

Ava’s eyes were fixed on the raven waiting for them at the entrance, and her voice was tense when she spoke. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.”

When they had reached the cave, they lit the torches they had brought with them. With a sceptical look at the cave entrance and the crushing waves close by it, Bill shook his head.

“We should wait,” he said and looked at the water again, “high tide will be here soon. I don’t want to risk getting trapped.”

“We’d better hurry then,” Ava said laconically and vanished through the gaping cave entrance.

Charlie gripped his torch tighter, squared his shoulders and followed her into the darkness.

He found himself inside a narrow tunnel which led them deeper into the cave. The air was cold and wet and smelled of seaweed, salt and rock; but most of all it smelled old, as if it had been centuries since a living person had set foot inside this place.

The ground beneath Charlie’s boots was slippery, and he had to steady himself against the wall of the tunnel, careful not to lose sight of the dancing light of Ava’s torch in front of him. She led them deeper and deeper through the winding paths, and with every step, Charlie felt the weight of the massive rock above his head sank a little lower.

The dripping water, their footsteps and the rustle of the raven’s feathers were echoing through the air. The rough stone walls magnified the sounds to a degree which made Charlie’s head pound. He had lost his orientation long ago, and wished they would finally reach their destination; he had a bad feeling about this place.

Suddenly, the flickering light guiding their way hovered in the darkness - Ava had stopped. When Charlie and Bill caught up with her, they could see why.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Charlie’s eyes wandered over the wall in front of them. He looked around, but there was no path on either side of their way; they had reached a dead end.

“What now?” Bill asked as he came up next to him. “Let’s go back and try another route.”

“No,” Ava said, and passed her torch to Bill. “Hold this.”

She brought her face closer to the wall, and Charlie could see the small markings etched into the stone, much like the ones he had seen on the map.

“There needs to be a toll,” she muttered to herself, “of course.”

She reached into her coat and drew out a heavy, ornate looking dagger, its serrated blade gleaming in the torch light. On instinct, Charlie’s hand flew to his pistol on his belt, but Ava only cocked a brow.

“Nervous?”

She pointed the dagger between the two brothers. “There needs to be a toll,” she repeated, “paid in blood. Any volunteers?”

Confused, Bill and Charlie shared an apprehensive look.

“Not all at once,” Ava snorted, and before Charlie could do anything, she closed her hand around the blade and pulled it through. Blood immediately started dripping out from between her fingers and Charlie watched in horror as Ava dipped the fingers of her other hand into it. She laid them on the wall, leaving behind three dark red streaks of blood on the uneven rock.

“Open,” she whispered, and Charlie’s eyes widened as the stone gave way with a deep, blood churning rumble.

They followed along the tunnel until it made a sharp bend and opened into a wide cave. It was round and so big that Charlie couldn’t see the wall on the far side of it. The ground of the cave was covered in shallow sea water and seaweed - a sign that the cave was indeed flooded during high tide - and several huge stalagmites rose up almost to Charlie’s height. He made sure to tread extra carefully as he stepped from the tunnel into the open.

The cave was illuminated by the silvery light of the moon, which fell through a huge opening in the centre of its ceiling. They must have wandered the tunnels longer than Charlie had thought, and he thought about the rising tide with a tinge of worry.

In the middle of the cave, right beneath the circular opening, was a natural stone pedestal, and upon it stood another huge stone which looked oddly out of place. The surface of it was flat and crusted with the jagged forms of dead corals. On top of it, the corals had grown into a delicate arch.

Suspended in the centre of the arch Charlie could see what they had come to find, and his mouth went dry; it was the coral key.

He couldn’t believe that after all these years, and all the generations of his family hunting for this key, he was finally seeing it with his own eyes. He realised that despite everything, he hadn’t really believed they truly would be able to find it.

Next to him, Bill reached for Charlie’s shoulder and squeezed it wordlessly.

“It’s really true,” he whispered, his voice feeling out of place inside this huge cave. “They key made of coral, the gateway to the Sunken Vault. We found it, Charlie, we did it.”

Both brothers stepped into the moonlight, eyes set on the stone altar in front of them. They had almost reached it, when Ava’s voice turned their attention back to her.

“Bill,” she called, “come here. You need to look at this.”

She had lost no time to venture deeper into the cave, seemingly paying the key they had all come for no attention. She stood next to a huge stalagmite, and Charlie could see that it was covered with the same roughly hewn inscriptions he’d seen on the stone wall earlier.

Ava was holding her small notebook again, comparing her notes to the glyphs. She looked up from them and waved Bill over, her face very serious.

“There’s some clues as to where the Sunken Vault is. You should really have a look for yourself,” she repeated, more urgently this time. Bill gave Charlie a tiny shrug, nodded from him to the coral key and went to join her.

Charlie wouldn’t be of any help deciphering the writing, so he stepped onto the platform and stood in front of the coral covered stone. Standing beneath the opening in the roof of the cave, Charlie could see the moon and feel a breeze of fresh air on his face; he could hear the rumbling of the ocean, too. Drops of water splashed down from the stalactites above his head and joined into the mix, fortified by the echoes around them.

Feeling a sudden reverence for the place, Charlie laid his hand on the rough edges of the stone. He ran his hands over the dead corals, feeling the sharp edges brushing over the inside of his palm and he shuddered.

He turned his attention to the key suspended within the coral arch; he had thought it would be held by some sort of mechanism or holdings, but upon closer inspection, Charlie could see that the key was actually part of the arch itself; it had no distinct ending or beginning, almost as if it had grown from it.

He carefully moved the key back and forth to see whether he would be able to break it free, but found the corals to be sturdier than he had expected.

He tried again, this time with more strength, but still to no avail. Looking around himself, Charlie spotted a few small rocks scattered around the platform. He picked one he deemed big enough, aimed carefully and hit the arch with it repeatedly with loud thumps echoing through the cave with each hit.

He was glad when the first splinters broke off the corals, and even gladder when the arch came tumbling down without any part of the key being damaged.

Tossing his rock aside, Charlie started swiping the broken corals from the stone; they landed in the water surrounding him with loud splashes, which seemed unnaturally loud.

A wide grin spread on his face when he finally held the key in his hands. He couldn’t believe it, Charlie thought, they were so close to fulfilling their goal, closer than he had ever dreamed they would be.

He turned around to present the coral key to Bill and froze.

Bill was sitting on the ground in the water, leaning against the stalagmite he and Ava had inspected. His shoulders were hunched forward and his head was bowed, his chin almost touching his chest. Charlie’s eyes widened in horror when he saw the blood trickling down his temple from a wound on his head.

Ava had walked over to Charlie and now stood in front of him at the bottom of the platform with an unmoved face.

“Ava, what the -”

“Give me the key.”

Charlie felt his insides go cold when she drew her gun and pointed it at him.

“Now.”

Charlie struggled for words, his mouth dry as parchment. All he could see was the black barrel of the gun Ava pointed at him.

“Ava, what are you doing?” he said, and his voice sounded hollow in his ears.

“Getting what I came for,” Ava replied. “Now give me the coral key.”

Charlie’s hand closed tighter around the jagged edges of the key; his eyes flickered to the lifeless figure of Bill slumped against the stalagmite a few feet from them.

“What have you done to him? Is he -”

“He’s unconscious,” Ava said harshly. “I didn’t need to kill him. Not sure I can say the same for you.”

The world had shrunk around him, until only he, Ava and her gun were left. Charlie’s thoughts were sluggish and racing at the same time. He was thinking everything all at once, but couldn’t get hold of anything; anything but the one question burning red hot in his mind.

“Why?” he asked, with a voice so hurt it made him flinch.

“Why?” Ava repeated and her laughter was bitter. “What did you think would happen? We get the key and sail happily off into the sunset?”

She shook her head and her eyes were flashing. “It’s time to wake up, Charlie. This isn’t one of the stories we told ourselves when we were little. There is no happy ending. Only one of us will get to the Sunken Vault, and I’ll be damned if it’s you.”

“I didn’t think you’d stoop so low,” Charlie said heavily. “You’re obsessed with the Sunken Vault, you always were, but now you’ve gone too far. This obsession, it has changed you.”

He closed his eyes, so he didn’t see the pain flickering over Ava’s face.

“No,” she whispered, her voice bouncing off the walls eerily, “that’s not what changed me. You’ve abandoned me. You’ve left me for dead when I’d hoped every painful second you’d come and get me,” she continued, spitting all her pain and disappointment into his face. “It’s you who changed me, Charlie Weasley, you and…”

Ava didn’t finish her sentence and instead forced herself to stop. Her words had lost their edge and Charlie could hear a faint tremor in her voice. For the briefest of moments, her eyes flickered to the darkness in the far end of the cave, and Ava shuffled her feet ever so slightly, as if she was anxious to get out of the water.

She quickly regained control over her features and pulled herself together. Her hand holding the pistol, which had lowered the tiniest bit, was steady again.

“There are things out there that are bigger than you could ever understand. This is not about you and me. Hand me the coral key, or I will kill you. I have no choice.”

Ava had a masterful control of her voice, but even after all this time, Charlie knew her; the faint trace of imploring in her last words hadn’t been lost on him.

His heart was beating painfully against his chest, as if it wanted to remind him how beautiful it was to be alive. Deciding to use the one last chance he had, Charlie took a deep breath.

“If that was the case,” he said with a calm he didn’t feel, “you’d have shot me already .”

She pulled down the hammer of her gun with a sharp click. Somewhere above him, Ava’s raven croaked and she grit her teeth.

“Try me. Give me the key.”

Charlie swallowed the lump in his throat and squared his shoulders.

“No.”

The last thing Charlie saw was the bright flash of light as Ava fired, and then, nothing but pain.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #charlie weasley #bill weasley #ava campbell #avarlie #pirate au #crimson tide

[phxsmatos]

♛ BIOGRAPHY ♛

NAME: Kasandra Seung

AGE: 22-28 (years active)

BIRTHDATE: October 31st, unknown year

GROUP: Witch (water + limited necromancy)

FACECLAIM: Adeline Rudolph

Others have described her as confident & innovative, but also paranoid & moody.

TIME PERIOD: Early 1600s

♛ THE HISTORY ♛

TW: Infertility, blood, murder, death

For the better part of two centuries, The Hallowed Circle existed as a mere whisper throughout the old world. Rumored to be a shadowy coven of exiled and disgraced witches from every region of the globe, they lived in devout secrecy and dealt only in the reaping of souls. Necromancers, blood magic practitioners, silent merchants of hexes and curses. Fables and truth intermixed for years until the lines between fiction and reality blurred well past reason. Monsters? Possibly, but self-created long before the masses condemned their actions.

They were among the first witches to traverse across turbulent seas and endure the supernatural flight to Grand Manan. Hidden by cloaks and their own spell work, they blended into the crowd before settling on the edge of witch territory. It was where they practiced best, out of view on the fringes of society, but this new island instilled a particular vulnerability not previously known in the bustling cities back home. The Whittakers established themselves as the most powerful coven and least morally bankrupt, which posed an issue when coupled with the growing number of hunters also scouring for a threat.

Somehow they survived the initial chaos of border establishments and remained generally undetected for over a century. More rumors cropped up, more whispers in taverns and sideways glances at one’s neighbor, but The Hallowed Circle had implanted deep roots into the more criminal aspects of Grand Manan. Vampires were often their allies (for a price) and they welcomed fellow witches who defected from the mainstream agenda. Their numbers remained small for safety, but their power infiltrated nearly every corner and some leaders began to take notice.

It was at this point in the timeline that Kasandra came into the world, the first and only child of the coven’s elected regent. Decades upon decades of stolen lives and wielding the dark arts had in turn placed a curse upon her family. Infertility plagued their attempts at bringing forth a rightful heir until she emerged as the miracle child prayed for beneath the full moon; the last of their bloodline. Nevertheless, she was exalted by her relatives and chosen family, never daring to learn another path beyond the one given until fate left her with no choice.

Someone claimed it had been a fire sparked by the recent storm, but the young necromancer was there, hidden in the woods clutching the few items that she managed to escape with. She saw the silhouettes of hunters with their torches and weapons, heard the screams of her coven as they perished beneath their own extermination. Dozens of grimoires were lost and their entire operation destroyed for the sake of the reigning coven’s morality. The few who managed to flee traversed back to the mainland, integrating back into the human world or stowing aboard ships headed east. Except Kasandra.

Remaining within Grand Manan’s borders was undoubtedly a fool’s errand, but the island had been her home for twenty-two years and she knew no other life. Rebuilding came after the realization that so much time spent in isolation with only her coven and those who knew where to locate them made her nameless and faceless to the vast majority. Or at least to those who could immediately finish off what remained of The Hallowed Circle.

More time passed wherein Kasandra fell deeper into her studies and allowed the darkness of that work to swallow her whole, continuing the legacy of her beloved coven. She wound up maintaining previous alliances with nearby vampires and entrancing new ones with nefarious offers in exchange for their protection. Eventually any reliance on her fanged friends became too burdensome to upkeep and thus her most ambitious scheme manifested in the dim light of a cellar. 

Would it be at all possible for a witch to hybrid themself with a vampire and still maintain their abilities? Had anyone attempted it? What could she learn from their mistakes? How undeniably powerful could she become as a result? The thought plagued her for weeks, months, years even. She worked overtime to sell her wares and abilities to upkeep the experiments and studies on the matter, but Kasandra’s obsession eventually became her greatest downfall.

Once more the Whittaker Coven discovered the echo of The Hallowed Circle on the island, but one dark magic practitioner was far easier to apprehend than an entire group. There was strength in numbers and Kasandra had been alone for many, many years. At twenty-eight years old, she was rounded up by the witch leaders for her crimes and only after did they realize what horrors against nature she had been attempting. Uncertain about her success and wary about the idea of executing a witch only to have her return vengefully as a vampire, the decision was made to secure the island’s safety by entombing her for all time.

The coven gathered their members to cast a sleeping spell upon the enemy, leaving Kasandra and her grimoire in an eternally preserved state where she might never awaken. Unless, of course, one of the following conditions were met: either the Whittaker bloodline ended in full or the tomb was unsealed by a talented witch reciting the original incantation. To prevent this from occurring, every Whittaker heir has continued the family lineage without question and all copies of the spell were burned except one which remains buried as well in a separate location. 

The final member of The Hallowed Circle has been resting in her tomb undisturbed for over 400 years. 

#( x. biography: kasandra )

[loadedmemory]

Prompt #6: Avatar

tw: domestic violence and child abuse

Part V: Passenger

The skiff groaned as it moved slowly across the waters from the Mirror Planks to the Lavender Beds.  She rested her head on her arm, dangling her fingers just barely through the clear waters.  She felt her mother’s presence behind her, pictured her arms crossed, lips pursed.  That anger had simmered morning and it jarred her, even if she already knew the anger wasn’t directed at her.

Her uncle had summoned them again.  It always set her mother’s nerves on edge when he did that.  

“It’s as if he thinks he can just snap his fingers and command us to be in his court,” she often complained.  

Her father offered to watch her for a time, but her mother wouldn’t hear of it.  He had too much to do to have a child underfoot at the same time.  And so here they were, slowly crossing over to see Uncle Paulloix again. 

She didn’t look forward to it.  Her uncle barely noticed her when she was near, and when he did, it was with nothing but contempt.  Being only eight summers, she never did figure out what she had done to make him hate her so.

A hand reached over to stroke her hair, fingers running through it, scritching her scalp lightly.  She turned her head to look up at her mother, seeing her rueful smile, and smiled back. 

“Maman, why does it always make you sad when we go see Uncle Paulloix?”

She had asked this question before, and been giving a pat answer that never satisfied.  She expected as much, this time, too.  

But her mother surprised her, “Your uncle is not a kind man, Fleurette.  But, family is family, and sometimes you have to deal with people you’d rather not, in life.”

This would forever be a demarcation of time.  The time before, when she was too young to understand, and the time after, when finally she was.  

The boat shuddered as it slide up against the dock and slowed to a stop.  The exited together, her mother grabbing her waist and hoisting her up first before following.  She liked the Lavender Beds, at least, even if it were reserved for adventurers.  She asked if her uncle was one of them, once.  Her mother just sighed and never answered.

The took the long walk along dirt paths.  Fleurette stopped to pick daisies, racing to catch up, until they came to a small dwelling cut off on an island.  Tall rock formations hide it from the rest of the district, and she could hear the rush of a waterfall nearby.  

The yard was austere, no flowering bushes or trees, merely a neatly kept lawn and a high fence.  The door opened and there Fleurette hesitated, still holding onto the daisies in her hand.  Her mother gave her a little push and she capitulated.  

Her uncle’s home smelled of musk, large animal heads stuffed and hanging from the walls, peering down at her.  Aldgoats and boars and antelopes.  In the cool darkness of his home, the shadows played on them ominously. Or maybe that was just her imagination.  Their feet fell heavy against the floor as they descended to the cellarage.  Here her uncle had his living quarters.  He sat before the fireplace, polishing what appeared to be the tip of a lance, not even looking up as they arrived.

“About time you arrived, Soucie,” he said with his usual curtness.  He finally looked up at both of them, his eyes as stern as his admonishment.  They were muddy green, just like her mother’s, but they never smiled like hers did.

“What do you want, Paulloix,” she asked, directing Fleurette toward a corner while she sank into a large armchair.  

It was going to be time for the adults to talk, so Fleurette found a seat on the floor and began tying the daisy stems together to create a crown of them.

“Did you hear about Tomaistre?” he asked.  Her mother shook her head.  “He’s dead.”

Soucie sat upright, startled by the news.  “What? When?”

He shrugged. Fleurette looked up to see him set the lance against the side of his seat.  “I’m told someone in a wood wailer mask removed his hand from his wrist, and then broke his neck.”

Her mother shuddered, then sighed, “He wasn’t a bad man. I’m sorry to hear of his passing.”

“Are you?” 

Her uncle leaned in toward Soucie and his face was no more than a silhouette ringed by firelight.  Fleurette’s hands froze, the daisy chain suddenly very still in her lap.  

Soucie was thin lipped for a moment, then, “Just what are you implying, Paulloix.  Your men live on the edge, it doesn’t surprise me when someone cuts it short.”

“He’s the one who asked me not to, you know.” He leaned back.  Fleurette relaxed, stared at the daisy chain as if willing her mind to concentrate on it instead.

Soucie hissed through her teeth, a sound she made when she was trying to keep her voice down.  “Don’t you dare. Don’t go there again.  Let the dead lie.”  

“So you haven’t seen the duskwight wearing the avatar of the wood wailer?”

Silence stretched long enough for Fleurette to shift uncomfortably.  She wanted to ask her mother when they could leave.  But, on looking up she could see the pair staring at each other, something unspoken between them.

“No,” Soucie finally said.  “He’s dead, Paulloix.  There is nothing left of him now but a memory.  Let it go and stop holding it over my head.”

Paulloix was up in a flash, so quickly it startled Fleurette and she dropped the daisies, hopping to her feet to find a counter to hide behind.  The sound of flesh slapping flesh reverberated through the room.  Soucie gave a little cry.

“So long as that thing lives, there will always be a piece of him existing,” he hissed.  “I can’t even look into its eyes without seeing him there.  And you bring it here, again, today.”

Fleurette didn’t understand the words they spoke, but she definitely knew they were speaking of her.  Her uncle had referred that way to her before. A thing to him.  Undesired for reasons she never could fathom.

She pushed herself as far back as she could, huddled against the wall.   And did her best not to cry, even as the tears streamed down her face.   Her mother continued to angrily hiss at her brother and he slapped her again for whatever insult she lobbed at him.  It was all a blur to her now.

Something fluttered in her peripheral vision and she turned her head to look. A card, bordered by gold foil.  Reaching for it, she tucked it into the pocket of her dress.  

It was not until everything was over that she remembered to look at it.  On the skiff ride out of the Lavender Beds, she pulled it free, finding it had not folded or creased in her pocket.  Turning it over, she ran her finger over the image as it blurred.

Then formed a night sky replete with stars, one of them shining brighter than the rest, hanging in the center.  It made her smile to look at.

Because somewhere, somehow, she knew that star was her.

#FFXIVWrite2021 #Revenge Story #kinda struggled with this one #not satisfied with it #but will edit it later #contains important story elements

[undomielregina]

Random thought about Heaven Official’s Blessing

I read the entire novel in about three days, and Hua Cheng was exactly my type, surprising no one who follows me who is familiar with him, I’m sure. But I’ve put together a couple of hints in the novel that I think might add up to make the worldbuilding even tighter. Spoilers for books 4 and 5 follow.

There are three bits of the world building that seem like they’re going to be important to the climax but that ultimately have no payoff: that Supremes/Devastations can raise their power by entering the Kiln, that gods do the same by enduring further Heavenly Calamities, and that Supremes/Devastations are naturally occurring and not solely a product of the Kiln. However, none of these things come into play explicitly by the end and are instead left as spare bits of information that have no real bearing on the story.

However, I suspect that they’re key to understanding how HC is able to possess the power to break Xie Lian’s shackles without destroying himself in the process, and how XL himself is capable of storing so much spiritual power.

Beginning with the second point, XL at no point falls/becomes mortal/surrenders his divine essence. His divinity is suppressed rather than removed and he is never truly human at any point subsequent to his first ascension. Successfully ascending a second time is said to be prohibitively difficult, to say nothing of a third, in much the same way that Shi Wudu needs to prepare himself thoroughly to survive his third Calamity. I suspect that beneath the shackle, XL’s power has grown with each ascension, exactly as it would have had he been unfettered at the time. Supporting that, XL’s third ascension is suggested to have been unusually violent, in keeping with far greater power than a true new god could yet have.

In a similar way, I suspect that HC entered the Kiln already a Supreme/Devastation, having missed his ascension to that rank due to the confusion of the circumstances surrounding it. The description of his ascension to Savage and the emotional anguish that causes it bears a distinct resemblance to the story of the creation of E’ming, and the emotional and physical trauma of that scene are classic pathways for producing stronger ghosts.

Here’s the scene from book 4: 

“He couldn’t see anything, the world was pitch black, other than the ball of fire that was burning furiously from nearby. It grew brighter and stronger. Yet, within the palm of White No-Face, it wasn’t able to escape.

He couldn’t hear his own heartbreaking scream, but instead, he heard the sound of another heart-wrenching wail, and it seemed as if it came from that ring of flames. Although it didn’t come from him, the pain that he could hear was the same as his, as if he was the one that had made that sound.

In the end, he wasn’t able to hang on to his sanity any longer. There was mumbling in his throat, and his consciousness completely shattered. At the same time, an explosion blew from within the Crown Prince temple and a wave of raging flames gushed out.

“AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

There was a mixture of high- and low-pitched screams. The scorching fire roared, lighting everything in flames, making it impossible for anyone to escape. The ghost fire flickered vividly. In an instant, the hundred living bodies that resided inside the Crown Prince temple were burned to hundred sets of charcoal-black bones!

When the flame gradually subsided and regathered, that original small ball of ghost fire had already vanished. In its place stood a vaguely-shaped silhouette of a young man.

The youth dropped down to his knees in front of the scorched black surface of the altar. He bent over deeply, clutching his head with both of his hands, and bellowed in immense and devastating pain.

He didn’t dare to look at what had become of the person lying on the altar, because what laid there didn’t look human anymore.

Bones and skulls alike scattered across the interior of the Crown Prince temple. White No-Face cackled uncontrollably as he turned around and exited the temple. The rage of fire didn’t only stop at just this Crown Prince temple, even the frenzied disfigured creatures outside had turned to piles of dried corpses and waste. As if blind to it, White No-Face walked past these charcoal, ash-like remains.

This entire forest, no, this entire mountain trembled and mourned in agony!

Countless black shadows flew up to the sky. They were the souls that were scared witless of this now-lifeless land and were scrambling to escape. A strong gust of wind scattered them in all different directions. Above the Crown Prince temple, a gigantic layer of black clouds was rumbling in restlessness. Slowly rotating, it resembled a colossal demonic eye.

This was the birth of a malicious creature, the signs of a Savage ghost taking form!

And then here’s the creation of E’ming:

Guoshi continued, “That vicious ghost almost made a move against those humans, but for some reason, in the end, it didn’t. It instead used one of its own eyes as the price to forge a blood weapon. That vicious ghost was already forcibly hanging on with its last breath; after digging out its eye it should’ve broken apart completely. Yet somehow something had shocked it, and it instead woke to its senses completely. Who knows what kind of wicked device it forged that actually carried it through that battle.

It’s a much sparer retelling, of course, but the tremendous anguish and the waking fully to consciousness and form sound familiar to HC’s awakening as a Savage. And any environmental reaction would have been mixed up with the Heavenly Calamity and so not evident.

So that together explains why we have this information: Xie Lian has survived three Calamities without losing his divinity, and Hua Cheng didn’t become a Supreme in the Kiln but instead further refined the power he had already gained as one. That’s why HC is so overpowered compared to most of the gods even before he starts gaining worshippers and why he’s able to fight Jun Wu as an equal in his aspect as White No-Face, even in the heart of Jun Wu’s seat of power where, we are told when on Black Water’s island, his own power should be much diminished. And that’s why Xie Lian is capable of holding enough spiritual power to break his shackles and to fight Jun Wu as an equal.

#heaven official's blessing #meta #worldbuilding and plot hints #hua cheng #xie lian #tcgf #tcgf spoilers #tian guan ci fu

[toweroftickles]

Suki’s Suffering (ATLA Tickle Fic)

A request for @atlatickles primarily focusing on some torment from Katara. Hope you guys like it!

“WOOHOO! Score one for Team Aang!”

The Avatar cheered and landed on the beach sand of Ember Island. A torrent of air from his palm had blown the kuai ball straight into the ground.

“That’s cheating! You’re not supposed to use your bending abilities during the game! It’s a disgrace to the honor of all noble kuai ball players who have bloodied these sands, blistered their knuckles, and gotten weird farmer’s tans in pursuit of true glory!!” Zuko cried out, getting increasingly dramatic. One could almost see an aura of fire rising behind him. He stood determined, fist pumped, righteous in his noble convictions.

“Ah, zip it, Zuzu!” Sokka retorted smugly. The prince’s face fell into a scowl.

Ducks honked placidly in the background.

“Sounds like someone’s being a sore loser!” Aang taunted, high-fiving his teammate.

“Rrrr! Aren’t you going to help me?! OUR DIGNITY IS AT STAKE!!!” Zuko roared behind him.

His partner Momo sat on a nearby rock and tried in vain to eat a snail. Momo just stared at Zuko for a moment, blinked slowly, and then returned to his important work.

Across the beach, Katara and Suki stretched out on a towel, in the shade of an umbrella. Like many beachgoing girls, they opted to put on swimwear despite having no apparent interest in swimming. Further away, Toph sat on Appa’s stomach and bounced on him like a trampoline.

“Ugh, all this macho posturing,” Katara laughed at the ball game.

“Heh. Yeah. Good thing us girls never have to prove how tough we are,” Suki replied.

As they sat by one another, the two were strangely close together. Suki was fully reclined, while Katara sat up with one knee bent. Her left foot absentmindedly caressed Suki’s right, her dark skin standing out against the Kyoshi girl’s paleness.

A thought entered Katara’s head. She wasn’t usually this kind of playful sort, but the idea was too tempting to resist. Twisting her foot to the side, she pressed her big toe into the arch of Suki’s sole and rubbed vigorously.

“NngAHH HA HA HA!!” A pained, wailing laugh forced its way out of Suki’s mouth, and she desperately, almost fearfully, pulled her feet away from Katara’s.

Ember Island stood still. In the distance, Aang and Sokka turned their heads in the direction of the mysterious noise. Confusion pulled the corners of Toph’s eyebrows into a crooked slant.

The teen Kyoshi warrior covered her mouth, half out of surprise and half out of a desire to stifle her laughter.

“No...please. Please don’t do that,” Suki begged. Her voice was a hiss, kept as low as possible.

The rest of Team Avatar had decided that this noise they heard was a distant horn, perhaps a bird or a seal, and gone back to their games.

“What? You can’t handle that?”

Suki’s toes curled and wiggled in the sands, something which didn’t go unnoticed by Katara. As soon as the balls of Suki’s feet were lifted, Katara’s fingertips darted in and skittered against them like spiders.

Through her hands, the noise that managed to squeeze out resembled someone blowing her nose into a tsungi horn, punctuated by an explosive giggle.

A shiver ran through Suki as she drew feet away, her knees into her chest. Panicked thoughts whipped the back of her neck as they raced around in her head - did anyone else notice? Why did she have to be so ticklish?! Not now! Not in front of her friends!

Only one second had passed. Suki’s trembling fingers lowered slowly to offer her a peak. And there kneeled Katara, much to Suki’s horror, smug and smirking.

“Huh...well isn’t that interesting...”

“Katara...no. I’m warning you.”

“Haha! You act so tough all the time, and that’s your weakness?”

Katara inched closer on all fours, step by step with wicked intent, sand clinging to her palms and soles.

Suki spun her torso around and made a mad scramble to back away, when a clod of wet sand struck her in the face, and she fell onto her back.

“Ah! Hey!” she yelped. Within moments Katara’s hand had pinned her wrists down above her head, and the two locked gazes.

Suki’s eye twitched. From its corner she saw water droplets rising from the muddy ground, condensing themselves into a liquid vine and leaving dry sand beneath. Katara’s free hand danced in circles as she conjured the water from the earth. For a moment she became a normal teenage girl, free of the burdens she carried, overcome with giggles of her own, eager to tease her friend.

The water tendril coiled itself into a rounded tip, no thicker than a minnow, and wriggled around in Suki’s belly button. “Heehee-Heehee Heheh-Heheh Heh! *gasp* HA Heheh-Heheh!” she giggled uncontrollably through clenched teeth.

“If you laugh any louder I’m gonna make you sorry,” Katara threatened playfully.

“D-don’t!! Heheh-HEH!!”

“Where else are you ticklish?”

The tentacle splayed apart like a hand, and its churning fingers poked and prodded all over Suki’s squirming torso. Her armpits, her sides, her hips, between her ribs...the tickle torture was impossible for her to stand, and Katara’s wicked giggles only made the torment worse.

“Haha-HAA! *gasp* Heheh-Heheh Heh! Heh...Heheh-Heh! *gasp* Gkkkkkkk, HNHN!! Stop it stop it stop it!!” Suki squealed. Her eyes clenched tight. The water tendrils were surprisingly firm, applying perfectly-concentrated pressure on all of Suki’s tickle spots. They felt cold against her skin.

Suddenly the water fell away. Small droplets splashed against her. Curiously, her eye opened...just in time to see Katara’s clawed hand squeeze her belly.

“GAH HAHA-HA! *gasp* Haha-Haha Ha!”

Suki’s whole body thrashed involuntarily...she was very weak to pinching and squeezing. Her Kyoshi sisters had often tried to play with her tummy during their gymnastic training, but the tickles were never this brutal.

“Uh-oh, now you’re gonna get it,” Katara giggled.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Hey guys! You’ve gotta check this out!” Katara called across the beach.

Almost in slow motion, the others turned.

POW! The kuai ball plowed right into the distracted Zuko’s intestines, and he froze with a pained wheeze. He stood squatting awkwardly, his silhouette indistinguishable from that of a heavily pregnant woman.

Suki blushed wildly, and her voice caught in her windpipe. All she could do was watch her friends draw closer and closer.

“What? What’s so interesting?” Toph asked.

“Check this out. Look how ticklish Suki is!”

Katara poked Suki’s belly button again, and a powerful giggle burst through her victim’s pursed lips.

“No, no, I-I’m not ticklish,” she bluffed desperately. “I just got a shock, that’s all.”

The rest of Team Avatar just stared.

————

“HA HA HA HA!!! *gasp* *cough* Haha-Haha Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! Nooooho!” Suki possessed a loud belly laugh that could be heard all around, one almost more like a sob than gleeful shriek. Tears welled up in her eyelashes. She truly couldn’t stand being tickled in any capacity; all the fingers probing her torso reached inside her and pulled out more misery than any Fire Nation dungeon could have mustered.

Her armpits twitched as Toph’s sandy toes wiggled in them. (Toph’s feet held the Kyoshi girl’s shoulders in place.)

Her ribs and belly quivered at Sokka’s drunken master-style tickling.

Her knees buckled as Aang squeezed them.

Her feet scrunched up, but they couldn’t escape Katara’s walking fingers.

Only Zuko stood off to the side, seemingly uncomfortable with the whole thing.

“Why are these people so weird?” he murmured, speaking English to the small lemur next to him with a snail up its nose.

“Heehee-HEE-Heehee! Heheh-Heheh Huhuh, Huh, Huhuh-Huh! *squeak* HA-HA HA-HA! S-sokk-ha-ha-ha!! Hehelp! AAHHHH!!!”

“I am helping! That’s totally what I’m doing!” Suki’s boyfriend insisted, with a slightly offended tone. Of course, with his fingers flailing like spastic octopuses all over her tummy, it was hard to see how.

The tickle-torture lasted until Suki was completely out of breath, her giggles gone silent and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Huhhhh.......huhhhh...you guys.....you are so freaking dead...” Suki heaved, pulling air back into her lungs.

Everyone else was laughing. But deep inside, they couldn’t help wondering how far Suki would go for payback...and which one of them would be first.

#tickle blog #tickling #ticklish #tickle #tickling community #tickle fic #foot tickling #avatar tickling #avatar fanfiction #atla tickling #suki #suki atla #katara #aang #sokka

[defiantlords]

Winds whipped across the rain drenched beach as surfs larger than himself crashed inland. It had been his first storm since arriving on the island and Inuyasha was not fond of it one bit. His cradle in the massive koa tree connected all the various streams that had formed from branches further up. What had once been the perfect resting place a few feet above the earthen floor below was now becoming an uncomfortable pool. He could have taken up refuge in the village nearby, but Inuyasha didn't trust any of them. There was only one on the island he secretly held any affection for and she had not been around since before the storms started. Cold and wet, Inuyasha did his best to weather out the storm. If he was to live there in the tree after today, a few leafy palms would have to be acquired so as to have some shelter overhead. With a golden glance out to the torrential waters afar, Inuyasha was at least happy he was on dry land. He had never seen something so destructive and terrifying.

By the time Inuyasha woke up, he was shivering. Morning had brought patchy clouds and calm seas. A few rays of sunshine peeked out and he was instantly ready for their warmth. Scrabbling down and out of the shady branches, Inuyasha wasted little time shrugging off the oversized fire-rat robe. Childlike defiance of his remaining clothes sent fabric aside as he jumped for the closest sunbeam. Rolling in the heat as tiny granules stuck to his skin, Inuyasha could immediately feel warmth coming back to his body. He laid longer than he should have and could already hear her words nagging him to be cautious of the sun. Inuyasha had learned his lesson the hard way days ago when his skin began to shed and he worried he was turning into some creepy snake demon. As her words grew heavier, Inuyasha groaned and rose to his feet. His sodden clothes were spread out where they would dry the fastest as he turned his attention to the water's edge.

Not far away, waves slipped through a set of rocks he knew fish were easily caught. Making his way over as his stomach grumbled from a days worth of hunger, Inuyasha eyed the location appreciatively. A few tasty treats had already trapped themselves and drool formed along the corner of his mouth as he stared down hungrily. Sharp claws darted into the clear pond to grab the slippery creatures until one was held in his mouth and another two in his hands. He had already fashioned some rudimentary skewers to contain his catch so that they could be held over an open flame. Speared into the wood, Inuyasha couldn't resist eating the one already in his mouth. The fin flapped wildly, weakly now that it was no longer submerged in water, but not for long. Deadly fangs ripped at scaly flesh again and again until only bones remained. He contemplated doing so for the other two and would have resisted had not all the wood around still been so sodden. Shrugging, Inuyasha filled his tummy with two more fish.

Time passed slowly now that Inuyasha was again alone. The past week had reminded him what it meant to have another person around even if he scoffed at her presence. By himself once more, loneliness crept around his heart and thoughts of abandonment penetrated an easily vulnerable shell. Inuyasha tried to keep himself busy with flipping his clothes over and washing off some in the ocean, but time simply trickled by. As the sun continued to rise, more dark imaginings breached his young brain. She had grown tired of him. He was just a problem on her beach. What use was a child to her? He wasn't even fully human. The kids in the village looked more different than the ones he had seen in his homeland. Maybe the curiosity had died. She wasn't coming back. She had left him. The tears were already forming when a shape emerged near the shore.

Rising up through shallow tides, he saw her silhouette. With the blazing ball of light behind her, he could barely see anything to identify her, but he knew it was her. Anger and relief mixed within his heart as she continued to emerge. He stood from below his koa tree, hands balled into tiny fists. The moment her foot stepped out from the surf, he charged down the beach. Arm raising, finger pointing, Inuyasha shouted, “Where were you?” She was taller than him, massively so, but still he stared up at her defiantly. She had left him for nearly two whole days and now he wanted answers. “Tell me,” he demanded, his childish voice high and accusatory. Inuyasha was barely five and he had no idea how old Alaula was, but she would answer him.

#enchantedorigins #high house beast #inuyasha and alaula

[sunshinelikesavatar]

Here We Are

In which Zuko crashes a ship, ends up very far from home, and meets a Water Tribe woman and her firebending son.

AO3 Link

Lightning blinded Zuko as he scrambled across the small deck of his ship, desperately trying to tie everything down. It would have been hard enough with the storm raging (seemingly out of nowhere), tossing his ship around and threatening to send him to the bottom of the sea, but now—now—

He wished his uncle were here. He wished he was far from this ship, curled up with a scroll as he listened to a storm rage outside, dry and warm. That his mother was alive, that his father wasn’t cruel and callous, that his country wasn’t fighting a pointless war—that he could secure his belongings before he lost them to the waves that crashed over the deck—

The rope that tied him to the ship had saved him at least twice already, and as his feet were swept out from under him again, he clung to it as he was thrown against the mast. He gasped as the breath was knocked out of him and desperately tried to stand. Another wave filled his mouth with saltwater and he coughed and hacked and tried to brace himself against the wood behind him. As the ship tilted, though, he lost his footing and crashed to the ground, clipping his temple on something as he went down.

His last thought before unconsciousness took him was somewhat nonsensical, all things considered:

I hope the tea set doesn’t break.

-

With a sigh, Zuko nuzzled down into the pillow. What a strange dream that had been, so violent. It felt so real, though. His body hurt and ached like he’d really been thrown around in a storm, and his throat even felt raw, like he’d been coughing up water.

Which is when he started coughing, coughing until the muscles of his chest were spasming and involuntary tears from the pain were leaking down his cheeks and sparks flew between his teeth. Trying to stand to get a drink or something didn’t work—he got as far as kneeling before he had to curl forward, forehead pressed into the pillow. He wondered if he’d die like this, alone and hacking out a lung.

A cool hand rested on his shoulder, incredibly soothing. As it moved, rubbing up and down his back, the urge to cough subsided. That hand should have frightened him, but he was so relieved and distracted from his diaphragm no longer attempting to eject itself from his body that he just focused on breathing, gasping in deep gulps of air.

Exhausted and realizing that he had no idea what was going on, he turned his face on the pillow to blearily blink up at the person kneeling next to him with his good eye. There was a fire lit behind them, though, leaving him only with a person-shaped silhouette. They had been kind, though—this was obviously not his room nor his cabin on the ship, and he was laid out on something comfortable. Warm and dry and not clinging to rope hoping the sea wouldn’t swallow him whole.

He tried to say thank you, but all that came out was a hum. The cool hand on his back moved up to his face, brushing back his hair. “Do you want water?” a woman’s voice asked him and he managed a nod. It took a bit of effort, but between the two of them they managed to get him sitting back on his feet as a cup of cold water was held to his lips.

It was not any easier to see the face of the woman helping him, but he supposed it didn’t matter too much. He cleared his throat, wincing at the burn of it, and rasped out, “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he reveled in the ease of his breaths before shifting around to lay down again, bracing himself with his arm as he went. Curling into the warmth of—were they furs? It felt like furs, soft and fluffy—he told himself he would just rest a little while, just for a few minutes.

-

Katara watched the man as he slept, considering his face.

He was much more relaxed than he had been when she rescued him from the crashed remains of his boat. She was glad he’d woken up for a little bit to cough the water out of his lungs, even if it had left him crying (and breathing out sparks, and hadn’t that been a surprise?). Gently, she brushed her thumb against his unscarred cheek, wiping the tears away.

This was not a circumstance she could have foreseen. The only Fire Nation ships that came down to the South Pole were navy ships, armed and threatening if not outright invading. This man’s boat had been much smaller, made of wood and not metal. The broken boxes of supplies showed only the normal things one would expect to see on a personal boat: food, clothes (no armor), some trinkets and weapons, an oddly extensive collection of play scrolls, and a carefully packed tea set.

She had sent Kallik to gather up all the things he could and leave them just outside their hut so he wouldn’t disturb the man’s rest. In this particular case, she thought with a frown, perhaps it was for the best that her hut was on the outskirts of the village.

Because it was indeed a Fire Nation man currently sprawled on her bedding, a firebender, nuzzling cutely into the pillow. Pale skin and black hair could be Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation, but those brilliant gold eyes only came from one archipelago, and it wasn’t like earthbenders went around spitting sparks. So here he was, a Fire Nation man, horribly scarred and burned but born of fire nonetheless. The other villagers would not have dragged his limp form from the wreckage to save him, would not have healed his obvious head wound with waterbending or given him comfort as he cleared his lungs, but she had the beginnings of a very, very stupid plan stirring in her mind, and it required the cooperation of a Fire Nation man such as this.

Satisfied that he would rest easy, she turned her attention to his clothes drying by the fire. They were nicely made and no doubt the thin and light fabric was practical near the equator, but the weather further south required wools and furs. Shaking her head, she pulled out an old parka that had recently been given to her from one of the kinder grandmothers of the village and started to mend the obvious problems. If her plan was to work, this man would need a parka, sturdy boots, thicker pants and tunics—all the necessities, really. Even if all signs pointed to him not trying to end up here in the first place.

It was a while before Kallik poked his head through the door and grinned at her before turning his gaze to the sleeping man. He tiptoed over to her and settled by her side. “I got all the stuff I could and put it in the boxes by the door, like you said,” he whispered. “But Mom, who is he?”

She smiled at his impatience, smoothing a hand over his black hair and kissing his forehead. “It’s a surprise, sweetie.”

Kallik rolled his golden eyes and flopped against her. “Ugh, mom, I’m seven now. I’m too old for surprises!”

“Now that is just completely untrue.” She held the fur of the parka a little closer and pursed her lips. She’d probably need to patch the next tear…she set it aside for now, though. “Come on, help me with the bigger things in the wreckage and let him sleep.” Kallik pouted but followed her out.

-

The next time Zuko woke up, he was feeling much more alert. He could feel the sun’s energy zipping through his blood, high in the sky, calling him to wake and move and get on with the day.

A woman sat by the fire, stirring a pot of something. She turned to him as he pushed himself to a sitting position and smiled. “Hello,” she said, her voice kind and open. “Are you feeling hungry?”

To say he was confused would be to understate the situation. She was...Water Tribe. Very obviously Water Tribe, with dark skin and hair, bright blue eyes, and blue-dyed clothes that looked to be made of thick wool. The hut they were in was lined with hides, with Water Tribe decorations and stylings. And as far as he was aware, people of the Water Tribe didn’t exactly get along with the people of the Fire Nation.

His uncle had told him before to never look a gift ostrich-horse in the mouth, though, so he merely nodded and took the bowl of stew and hunk of bread she passed him. It may have been the effect of surviving the worst storm of his life (he was pretty sure that hadn’t been a dream), but the food was absolutely delicious and he did his best to eat every drop, balancing the bowl on his legs as he used the bread to sop up the soup.

She let him eat in silence, putting a lid on the pot and pulling out some sewing. He watched her work, apparently unconcerned with the strange man sitting no more than four feet away. She was patching the knees of a small pair of pants and making tiny, precise stitches with a smile on her face. When he finished, putting his bowl on the ground by the fire, she put aside her sewing and turned to face him.

“My name is Katara,” she started. “You’re in one of the Southern Water Tribe villages at the South Pole.”

He couldn’t help the incredulous “What?” that burst out of him. What was he doing so far south? Had the storm really blown him so far?

She bit her lip and continued, “Also, your ship is completely wrecked.”

Dismayed, Zuko spluttered. That ship...that ship had taken up all his savings for the past six years to buy, and the first time he took it out for more than a day, he wrecked it?

“No one here knows how to fix a boat like yours,” she was saying, “So even if it wasn’t just firewood at this point, you probably couldn’t leave in it.”

He couldn’t help the slump of his shoulders. This had been his great escape, his plan to start a new life far from his father and sister. A truly inauspicious beginning, he thought with a scowl.

The woman, Katara, got to her feet and brushed off her tunic. “I have a canoe, though, and could take you to a nearby island if you wanted.” And he was baffled by her generosity, to do so much to help a stranger from a nation at war with hers. Before he could thank her, though, she said, “But I do have an alternative proposition for you.”

He leaned back, narrowing his eyes at her. It had been too good to be true after all.

Holding her hands out to the sides, she simply said, “You could stay here.”

And that was...not what he had expected. He cleared his throat, sure he’d misunderstood. “I beg your pardon?”

She sighed and pulled her braid over her shoulder to tug at it. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how to sell this to you. To make a long story short—”

Which is when the door to the hut burst open. Years of instinct had him jumping to his feet, arms in ready position. He let them drop as he saw it was a child. “Mom, Mom, Mom, I figured it out, you have to see what I did, I—” The child—a boy—turned to him with—

Golden eyes.

Oh.

He felt a bit sick. He wondered if his conclusions were hasty, though. Maybe...maybe she had happily married a Fire Nation man, who just happened to be out on a trip or something. During a war. In which he knew that there had been several raids on the Southern Water Tribe around the time of this boy’s likely birth date.

Katara’s smile was warm, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she steadied her son from his rush inside. “Kallik, I told you, play outside until I call for you.”

That seemed to startle the boy out of staring at him (at his face, at his arm, and people always seemed to stare) with wide eyes. “Oh! But Mom, I had to show you right away—” He held out his palms, cupped together, and furrowed his brow. A tiny flame popped into existence above his hands. It was, objectively speaking, a sad and flickering little thing, nearly entirely red with lack of heat and threatening to go out with each puff of air as the boy said, “Look, I figured it out! I made it on purpose!”

Which implied that there wasn’t a firebender around to teach him the most basic of firebending skills, such as, say, a loving father figure.

And Katara smiled and hugged her firebending son, kissing his hair. “Sweetie, great job! I knew you could do it! You’ve been practicing so hard. I’m so proud of you.” The boy beamed bright as a sunbeam. Then she laughed and gently pushed the boy out of the hut. “But I was serious about you playing outside! We’ve got some boring grown-up things to talk about.” Kallik groaned and whined but made his way out the door.

It was pretty easy to fit together the few pieces he had. He’d heard about this sort of thing, of soldiers who had so little honor that they would...would…Swallowing (his throat still hurt but he tried to ignore it), he looked at Katara again.

She shrugged and gave him a small smile. “Well, um, that’s my son. He’s...he’s just turned seven and he started...well, firebending.” Biting her lip, she looked towards the door. “There have been a few accidents recently. Nothing deadly or anything, but he gets so excited, and, well…” Here she mimed an expanding fire. “You know.”

He did know. It was something every new little firebender had to learn to deal with, how to temper the flame in your heart so it didn’t burn the world around you. Usually, there were family members, neighbors, teachers, friends, all sorts of people to support them.

Not here, though.

“I’m not...there’s no one here to help him. And I do want to help him, but I don’t know how.”

He almost asked about the boy’s father before he decided that was a terrible ideaand he should not ever bring that up ever, what’s wrong with me? “And you think I could?”

She wiggled her hand in a so-so kind of way. “If you were just here as a teacher, that would be easiest, but the village would hardly accept that. They almost turned me away just because of Kallik.”

Which also implied that this was not her home village, which meant she had either run away, been sent away, or her family was dead and she was alone. All of those options were heartbreaking.

“But...they don’t know the circumstances of Kallik’s, um...of Kallik.” Her face started flushing as she continued, “If I could pass you off as, um, my h-husband, only just able to join us here, that would p-probably work.”

There was already one glaring hole in the plan, though. “Most firebending teachers have both arms,” he managed to get out, turning his gaze to the central fire pit. As it often did whenever it came up, the space where his left arm had once been felt overly conspicuous.

Her hands were wrapped tightly around her braid now as she steadfastly focused on something on the floor. “That might actually, uh, help. You wouldn’t seem as...threatening, that way. And I don’t mean for you to teach him to fight, just to help him control his bending.”

He wondered how he would have reacted to that as a teenager, angry and desperate to prove himself to a father that didn’t care, that he didn’t seem threatening to a village of peasants. And he tried to remember and hold on to his uncle’s words of support, that losing an arm didn’t make him less of a man or a firebender, no matter what people thought. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. “So you want me to live here with you? Pretend to be your husband while I teach your son?” And was he actually considering this as a serious possibility? He hadn’t really had a plan besides “leave the Fire Nation,” after all.

“It sounds so dumb when you put it like that,” she muttered, “but yes, basically.”

And wow, there must be something fundamentally wrong with him as a person, because he didn’t even think before saying, “And it won’t bother you to have a...a Fire Nation man around all the time? With...with how Kallik, um…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Actually, he was fairly sure he should just burn up into ashes on the spot for bringing up the thing that was probably the most traumatic experience of this woman’s life.

Katara was looking at him with eyebrows scrunched together before she gasped and her eyebrows flew up. “Oh! Oh, um, no, that’s...ugh. I’m just so used to talking around it.” She took a deep breath. “Kallik isn’t my biological son. His, uh, real mom, she saw his eyes and decided she didn’t want him. I don’t blame her for that, the situation was terrible. I was supposed to...I don’t know, I don’t really want to think about it. But I...I couldn’t just...leavehim somewhere, and I knew no one in my tribe would want anything to do with raising him after everything, so I...left, I guess. Just sorta packed up and…” She gestured around them at the hut. “Here we are.”

Here she was. A woman who’d left her home and family to raise a son that she hadn’t birthed, a son that had Fire Nation blood singing in his veins.

“That’s what moms do,” he heard his mother say, softly laughing by a pond of baby turtleducklings.

“I think of you as my own,” he heard his uncle say, his hand warm and heavy and comforting on his shoulder.

He cleared his throat. “Can I think about it?” Because yes, he would actually be considering this as a life path. “Maybe take a walk or something?”

Katara bit her lip and moved to one of the chests lining the walls, opening it and rummaging around. “I would like to say yes, absolutely, but people are going to ask who you are as soon as you or I go outside. I’d rather have the story straight right from the start, whether you’re my, um, my husband or just a stranded sailor or something.”

Which made sense. So instead of standing in the sun like he wanted to, he sat next to the fire and stared into the coals. And then he thought and thought and thought.

-

Katara was almost giddy. He was considering it! He was considering her sort-of silly plan to teach Kallik firebending!

As she sorted through clothes, putting together a pile for the man—

Oh, wait. “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”

The man blinked up at her, startled. “Hm? Oh, my name.” He sighed. “Okay, I’m going to be honest with you too. Just so, you know, no misunderstandings.”

Her stomach started to sink. Was he a criminal or something? Her hand went to the lid of her waterskin, ready to pull out water to defend herself. She hardly knew this man, what had she been thinking?

“I’m running from my family. My dad, he, uh, he did...this.” He gestured to his whole left side and Katara had to swallow back bile. “But he’s been pretty clear that as long as I don’t draw attention to myself or try to mess with anything about the war, he’ll let me...you know, live. So I can’t use my real name.”

She almost asked who his father was before thinking better of it. A powerful (terribly, horribly powerful) bender, apparently connected with the war—likely a general. The “who” didn’t matter so much. Instead, she nodded. “That makes sense. Do you have a name in mind?”

The still-nameless man groaned and rubbed his face. “Maybe Li? There’s a million Li’s…”

Katara laughed. “Well, you might as well pick a name you like. Do you like ‘Li’?”

His grumpy glare very clearly said ‘no.’ He sighed and let his eyes wander around the hut, long fingers tapping on his knee. “How about...Kuzon. Yeah, that’ll work.” He met her eyes and bowed with fist held in front of him. “My name is Kuzon.”

Feeling a bit like she was playing a game, she bowed as well, hands braced against her thighs in Water Tribe fashion. “A pleasure to meet you, Kuzon.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile before he returned to staring at the fire.

At length, after she had straightened up most of the hut and started the non-essential mending, he groaned and twisted around, cracking his neck and stretching. He was like a seal-cat stretching in the sun, she thought with a grin.

With a gusty sigh, he turned to her. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

She blinked in surprise. “You will?”

Nodding, Kuzon got to his feet. “Yeah. I didn’t really have much of a plan besides ‘get away from my psycho family’ to start with anyways, and I like kids. I wouldn’t mind helping you and Kallik out here for a while.”

Certain her grin was a bit too gleeful, she bowed in thanks. “Thank you! And once Kallik has been trained, I’ll help you get wherever you’d like to go, okay?”

He bowed as well. “Sounds like a plan.”

Leaping to her feet, she grabbed Kuzon’s hand and ran out the door. “Let’s go tell Kallik the good news!” She heard an incredulous laugh from behind her, but he ran with her.

They found him on the rocky beach by the wreckage of the ship. “Kallik!” she called, waving him over. “Kallik, I want you to meet Kuzon, he’s—”

Three figures came around the side of the wreck, other villagers. Katara felt her words catch in her throat as she saw their eyes watching with interest. Whatever she said would certainly spread like wildfire throughout their little village. And she realized, as she felt the warmth of Kuzon’s hand still in hers, that she hadn’t really thought this all through.”

“Um, he’s...he’s your f-father.”

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #my writing

[deathlikesdeep-dish]

Heat (Zoro x Reader)

Hiiii!

I’m new on the One Piece fanfic scene but I had a ton of fun writing this first little story for the One Piece of Summer Writing Challenge! (also please forgive me if there’s multiple submissions i’m returning to tumblr after like an 8 year hiatus lol) (also also i’m sorry i’m verbose i hope this isn’t too long)

Warnings: some language

Word Count: 3628

Word Prompt: Heat

You can hardly believe that it’d been two whole years since the crew had been together. Two years. Holy shit. You feel a lump in your throat as you approach Shakky’s place. You have no idea who, if anyone, had already arrived. Your heart races excitedly at the thought and a small smile creeps over your features. You make yourself sit on a nearby bench and breathe before you hike the last flight of stairs to the bar. It’s a hot day, impossibly hot and you sit and take a sip of water from your hip flask. The cool liquid pours down your throat and you sigh happily as you wonder what the very near future would hold.

Would it be Franky? You imagine the blue-haired madman, and laugh. Maybe he’d found another way to fuel his cyborg frame other than cola. You laugh again.

Who am I kidding? You think to yourself. The reason he runs on cola is because he wants to run on cola.

Or maybe it would be Usopp or Chopper? The last time you saw Chopper, it had been so frightening. He was vast and out of control from using those rumble balls. A shudder runs up your spine at the thought, but you push the thought away shaking your head. Your h/c hair ruffles at the motion, and you push a strand out of your face as you stare at the ground beneath your boots. Usopp, you are sure, will be one of the early ones, not wanting to be one-upped. You roll your eyes, your mind’s ear imagining him shouting, “Well, of course I’m here first! I’m the great captain Usopp!”

You already know what Brook--you mean “Soul King” had been up to. You laugh. You had to admit that his stuff was pretty catchy, and you wonder if he’d even want to come back to the pirate life after all that fame and fortune. It had been nice over the last two years to follow him in the papers whenever you could; a small link to your old life had been comforting and familiar.

Nami and Robin were almost certainly already here--Nami, probably off conning some shop owner into giving their store away half-price, and Robin wandering around looking at architecture, reading a book, or saying weirdly cryptic lines to passersby. You sigh fondly, reminiscing about the times the three ladies of the Strawhats spent together. Not having had many female friends to speak of before the Strawhats, it had been nice to have some badass women to bond with over the months before your separation. In your two years alone, you’d missed the companionship.

Maybe Sanji is at Shakky’s already, cooking up some delicious concoction for you to devour. Your stomach grumbles on cue, and your mouth waters thinking about it. If Luffy was already here, then any food would be gone twice over. Of all the changes that are sure to have occurred, your captain’s appetite is the least likely to change. You can only imagine what power he has achieved in the last two years. Your stomach sinks a bit thinking about when you learned of Ace’s death in the Paramount War. The pain Luffy must have endured. Alone. But, he was not one to dwell, and wouldn’t want you to either.

So you don’t. You’re strong--much stronger than you were the last time the crew saw you. You’re not the same girl that you were two years ago. No, not even close. You’re taller, with broader shoulders and hips. While you were once slender due to malnutrition, you are now toned and muscled after two years of hard training. You felt vitality that you once never thought you’d feel coursing through your muscles. Your top, frayed at the hem, falls to just above your naval and drapes over one shoulder, leaving the other uncovered. Your s/c flesh is exposed to the waistband of your khaki shorts. The leather of your boots is soft and worn, the same pair you’d been wearing when you were launched away from your crew by Kuma. The holster dangling from your waist carried some of your throwing knives, which you twiddle absently at your side in nervousness. You had become adept at hand to hand combat since the crew saw you last. You are nimble, fast and lethal. You smirk and let the confidence roll over your body. You can’t wait to see how skilled everyone else had become.

You flex and stretch, standing up from the bench and begin your ascent up the stairs. They groan under your weight and you shift the bag on your shoulder, securing it more tightly against your body. You feel your heart beginning to race again at the thought of the final crew member. You can only imagine how strong he’d become.

Zoro.

You think of his green hair, and his white shirt, the top buttons always haphazardly undone. His slim black pants and boots, the sound of his earrings jangling in the sea breeze. You see his tight, intense gaze and that smirk that always weakened your knees. The knot in your stomach tangles more at the thought as you crest the top of the stairs. You recall the days that you sat in the Crow’s Nest together as he worked out. He never paid you much attention, but simply tolerating your presence in his sacred space made you feel important.

You feel the heat rise to your face and you can’t tell if it’s because of the sweltering sun of the Archipelago or the indecent thoughts that have begun to flood your mind. You take a deep breath as you nearly reach the doorway of Shakky’s place, when you stop in your tracks at the silhouette in the doorway. The sun is bright, so you can’t make out who it is right away, but as the figure takes a step, there’s no mistaking that green head of hair.

“Well,” You hear Shakky’s voice from inside the bar.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d be the first,” You hear Rayleigh’s voice chime in.

The greenette stays silent for a moment and then replies, “Oh yeah? Nobody else has shown up.” He pauses. “Well damn, guess they got lost.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice. It’s unmistakable.

Before you can stop yourself, you call out to him. “Zoro!” You immediately flush, but you know this time it’s not from the heat.

You see Zoro stiffen at your voice, but he quickly turns around and meets your gaze with his own.

Christ…

You immediately notice that your eyes only meet one of his, a scar running from forehead to cheekbone on the left side of his face, his eye tightly shut. It makes him look even more ruggedly attractive, if at all possible, and you allow yourself to stare for a moment.  His jaw, still angular and chiseled, is formed into a lazy half-smirk. Your e/c eyes trail down from his jaw to his throat and his collarbone, a body part you became intimately familiar with when you’d spent long moments staring at it over the top of his unbuttoned shirt, wondering what it would be like to nuzzle your face into its contours.

A part you are not used to seeing so casually, was the rest of his broad chest, which is exposed under the deep green coat he was wearing, the trademark Mihawk scar that ran from shoulder to hip still proudly displayed. You are glad to see that his haramaki remained unchanged over the last two years along with the three swords he carries at his side. He shifts his weight to his left side and leans his forearm on the hilt of his swords.

“Y/n!” He replies with a broad grin of recognition. He jogs toward you, and you find yourself moving towards him too.

Zoro is stunned to see you. In all honesty, he is stunned to know that he’s the first to arrive in the first place. Although, he did leave several weeks prior. Just in case.

You are...so different. His eyes move across your body, and he coughs, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks. He grits his teeth frustratedly.

Shit...get it together. He thinks to himself.

“I can’t believe we’re the first ones here!” You say, before pausing. “Actually...how the hell are you the first one here??”

You laugh and he manages to chuckle too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He jokes.

“Shakky and Raleigh inside?” You ask, jabbing your thumb towards the open door to the bar.

Zoro nods, rubbing a calloused hand at the nape of his neck. “Yep, they’re in there. Waiting like the old gossips they are.” He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

You can’t help but watch his arm move behind his head. His worn bandana is tied around his bicep over the top of his coat, and you can’t help but imagine how his tanned skin stretches over the muscle there. You realize, too late, that you had been silent for a beat too long.

“Y/n? You good?” He asks, raising a brow.

Your attention snaps back like a rubber band and you laugh nervously. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry. Just can’t believe how long it’s been.” You say lamely.

You walk into the bar, Zoro trailing behind you and you greet Shakky and Rayleigh with a wide grin. Shakky compliments your new look, making you spin around as if to show off your outfit. You can’t help but feel confident and a surge of pride wells within you. She pours you a drink, having already poured one for Zoro, and invites you to sit down at a far booth. You sit next to Rayleigh, playfully bumping him and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. He gives you an affectionate squeeze as he tells you how pleased he is to see you guys again. Zoro takes a seat at the far corner of a booth. He props his feet up and takes a long drag of sake straight from the bottle. He’d already finished the drink that was poured, naturally, and stopped Shakky before she could pour him another. He asked for the bottle, shrugging and said that we should just “cut out the middleman.”

You regale the three others in your tales of the last two years. You speak about your Master, your training, the island you’d resided on, everything. Shakky gives updates too, about some of the rumors that had been floating around in the Strawhats’ absence, particularly about Luffy and Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. Shakky, never one to be subtle, asks Zoro pointblank about what he’d been up to.

“Eh, not too much excitement,” He says vaguely. “The usual. Swords, drinking, naps.” Shakky rolls her eyes, unsatisfied, but you just laugh, knowing that he was not one to talk too much about himself.

After a long while, the four of you notice that the sun has begun to set. You are beginning to feel the drinks you’d consumed, your laughter a bit louder, your tongue a bit looser, your hair a bit wilder. The bar is illuminated in deep orange and red hues and you glance over at Zoro. Half of his face is cast in shadow, while the other half colored the same tint as the room. It looks almost as if he is on fire and you are mesmerized by him. He’s staring at you intently. You see beads of sweat along his hairline, and you notice that he has removed his outer coat.

“Damn Shakky,” He breathes, not breaking eye contact with you. “I don’t remember it being this hot two years ago.”

Shakky laughs. “Well, we’re going through a bit of a heatwave right now. It’s unusual for this time of year, but occasionally the weather currents bring a front in. It’s supposed to be like this for the next few days.”

His knees are propped up and he rests his forearms on top of them as he breaks your gaze and looks out the window. HIs profile is immaculate, and your eyes trace each feature--his straight nose, his angled jaw, and his full lips. Your lips subconsciously part, and it isn’t until you feel your tongue on them that you notice how you’re staring. Shakky, however, has noticed how the two of you have been trading stares at each other the entire evening. She smirks and stands with a yawn.

“Well Rayleigh,” She starts. “It seems likes it’s about time to close up shop for the evening. You good?”

Rayleigh looks confused at first, however, when Shakky gestures quickly to you and Roronoa, Rayleigh nods knowingly. He looks down at his nearly full drink and smiles. He tips his head back and swigs down the rest, placing the empty glass resolutely on the hard wood. “You know what, Shakky? You’re absolutely right. These old bones can’t drink like they used to. I’m headed down to my place at the docks. It’s cooler there anyway.” He stands up and bids the room farewell. The doorbell jingles behind him as he exits the bar.

You get the feeling that they’d been watching you and Zoro, and you feel embarrassed. But you don’t want to complain. You just hope that Zoro wouldn’t be ready to turn in yet either.

Shakky approaches Zoro and gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Night, Roronoa. If you get lonely, my room is always open.” She winks at him, entertained by how he squirms at the unexpected contact.

“Uh, yeah, sure…” He mutters, flustered. Shakky laughs.

“Shit Roronoa, just relax. I’m only kidding.” She walks over to a door behind the bar, presumably that led to her sleeping quarters, and opens it. “Or am I?” She grins slyly.

This time, Zoro knows better. The greenette shakes his head with a chuckle. “Goodnight, Shakky.”

She, too, disappears. The door closes behind her with a soft click, and the two of you are left alone. The sun has finally set beneath the mangroves and the sound of crickets fills the room. Despite the sun having set, the room is humid and very warm.

You reach a slender hand up and wipe beads of condensation off the back of your neck with a nervous sigh. “You’re right, Zoro,” You say after a moment. “It is absolutely stifling in here.”

He hums in agreement and holds up the bottle of sake questioningly. You nod and he tosses the closed bottle to you. However, his toss is a little short and to the left. But you’re fast and you catch it without a problem, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Aim much?” You joke as you pour yourself another drink before tossing it back to him.

He catches it easily and smirks. “Well, just checking to see if all that training you were going on about actually paid off.” He takes a swig. “Seems like it did.”

You were unbelievable. Zoro marvels at your agility. He had been enthralled as you told your story of the last two years. He watched the way your eyes lit up in excitement at certain parts or when your tone shifted to something more sinister. This was the y/n he’d always known--vibrant, curious and powerful. Zoro has always admired your tenacity. It was something of himself that he saw in you. He admired your intelligence as well, and your quick wit. It had always been a little intimidating, but now you were a force. It overwhelmed the swordsman. And thrilled him in the same way a new enemy excited him, got his adrenaline pumping and his heart racing.

He watches as you take a sip of your drink. His gaze follows the long line of your neck down to your collarbone, which he finds himself lingering on for longer than what was appropriate between nakama. You had always been objectively attractive, but Zoro never really paid attention to things like that. But now, you made that impossible to ignore. He is very attracted to you, entranced by your confident aura that pours off of you like cool sake.

The alcohol warms your blood and before you know what you’re doing, you prop your elbow on the table and say, “Seems like your training paid off too. I mean, look at you. All extra-muscley and shit.”

Zoro’s eyes widen slightly before he laughs out loud. “Thank you? I think.”

The liquid courage you’ve consumed does little for your filter (or your shame) so you continue. “I remember when I used to hang out in the Crow’s nest while you worked out. You were strong then, obviously. But it’s different now. You seem...invincible.” You breathe.

Zoro takes a moment to consider. “Invincible, huh?” He chuckles. “Hardly.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but don’t reply.

Zoro stands up, his coat remaining in his seat. Your eyes follow the contour of his chest and he notices you watching him. He loves knowing that you look at him the same way that he looks at you.

“Come on,” He says after a moment, holding out his free hand, the other still holding the bottle of sake.

You take it without thinking. “Where are we going?” His hand is rough and cool to the touch, despite the heat in the room. He’s never held your hand before now. His good eye lands on you with a smirk that turns the knot low in your stomach.

“Up,” He replies in a whisper.

You nod wordlessly and stand up, trailing behind him as he walks towards the back door of the bar. When you exit, you sigh happily when a cool breeze flows along your damp skin. He echoes the sentiment with a contented hum, and continues towards the side of the building where he finds a ladder.

“Ladies first,” He grins, gesturing for you to climb the ladder up to the roof of the bar.

You raise an eyebrow, but comply nonetheless. As you climb, you make sure to move your hips more exaggeratedly, knowing the view you were providing him.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, of course, and admires your ass as you climb the ladder. You really are something. He wants to do more than just hold your hand. He wants to trail his hands along your curves, feel your strong body against the planes of his chest. He wants to know what your lips taste like, what your h/c hair feels like entangled in his fingers. But he knows that he needs to take it slow for both of your sake. It’s been two years. A lot has changed, and you are still his nakama first and foremost. There’s nothing that he would sacrifice to keep that.

The ladder is taller than you think it is by looking at it and when you arrive at the top of the bar, you are surprised to find an expansive platform.

“Wow,” You look open-mouthed. “How’d you know this was up here?” You look to Zoro who hops up onto the platform.

He shrugs. “I didn’t. I just saw the ladder earlier and figured it would be worth exploring.”

He walks up behind you in all of his shirtless beauty and sits, his legs apart as he leans back on his forearms. You’re still standing, looking up at the vast mangroves all around you, the stars peeking through the tree-tops. He lets you admire the scenery because it gives him a few moments to admire you. He clears his throat to get your attention and pulls you down to him.

With a light gasp, you find yourself sitting between his legs, your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around you. You are blushing furiously now. He hums contentedly, moving to nuzzle your hair and inhale your clean scent.

“What are you doing?” You manage to croak out.

“Enjoying the company,” He murmurs into the side of your neck.

You feel his heart beating swiftly against your back as you lean into him with a deep sigh. Your brain wants to overcomplicate this.

What does this mean? What does he want? Does he feel the same way about me that I feel about him? Does he...you gulp. Does he...want me, the way that I want him?

He feels you stiffen. “Y/n, hey,” He says. “It’s okay. This doesn’t have to mean anything that we don’t want it to mean.”

It seems like mind-reading is on the roster of new super powers he’s acquired. You grumble internally.

He laughs, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before he moves away. You whimper softly at the loss of contact, and turn to face him with a confused look. Though he did shift backwards, he didn’t move all that far away from you, so you’re surprised that you’re nearly face to face when you turn around.

He gently touches his thumb to your parted lips. “We’ve got time, y/n. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. So let’s just take the time and figure it out.” He smiles.

You feel your heart swell in your chest as you meet his intense stare. “Y-yeah, o-okay.” You stutter, still not quite believing that Roronoa Zoro has anything he wants to figure out with you. Your reverie is interrupted by Zoro’s gentle kiss. It’s a kiss that foreshadows what else could come of it, one that’s slow and burning and brimming with possibilities. He pulls away with a shudder.

“We’ve got time.” He says again, seeming to convince himself with the second iteration. “Besides,” He pulls back fully this time, taking in your lovely face before he smirks. “It’s too damn hot to be this close right now anyway.”

#doctorgerth #one piece of summer #summerwritingchallenge #roronoazoro #one piece #zoro x reader #zoroxreader #onepiece #laws-yellow-submarine

[royalcordelia]

Summary:  After returning home from medical school, Gilbert discovers that the neighbor girl, Anne, has gone missing. He won't rest until he's found her, even if it means taking a leap of faith and venturing into his father's old wardrobe. (A Narnia!AU).

Notes: Merry Christmas @londonsboy​!! I was your secret santa this year and I was delighted to get to know you! Talking to you made me remember how wonderful Narnia is, and I realized that Anne of Green Gables and Narnia both have that same whimsical charm about them. I hope your holiday was cozy and lovely!  

*

1: A Child’s Lore

Gilbert remembers the Storygirl. He remembers the red twists of hair braided down her thin shoulders, each tied with bowed ribbons. He remembers the monarch butterflies balancing gingerly on her freckled fingers and the dimples haloing each half of her smile. He remembers cloaking himself away under the shadows of the treeline and watching the girl move slowly through the tall grass. With care and ease, she urged the butterflies to amble onto a nearby flower. 

“Would you care for a story?” she asked them. Gilbert remembers straining his ears to pick up any trace of her voice, tender and easy on his senses. “I won’t fault you if you fly away, but if you have a few moments to spare, I have such wonderful tales.” The butterflies remained in place, fluttering their wings slowly in the warm sunlight. 

“Very well, a story you shall have!” continued the Storygirl. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Cordelia. Oh, but she didn’t start out that way. You see, for most of her life, Cordelia suffered the great calamities that all poor orphan girls do…” 

Gilbert’s back slid down against the tree, somehow too captivated to tear his eyes away. He settled on the ground, pushing aside verdant brush to keep his sights on her. Never before had he taken himself as a fellow who enjoyed fairytales, yet something about this tale and her voice left him no choice but to listen. So he listened. He listened and listened until she whispered, “The end!” The blues of her eyes turned toward the trees straight at him as if she’d known he was there all along. And then, she ran off, disappearing into the heart of the valley forever.

He was only thirteen then, but he remembers. 

Now, he keeps the memory of the Storygirl in the same place he stores the memory of his father’s wardrobe—deep in the parts of his mind full of things he’d seen as a child, but could never prove the existence of as an adult. Myths, legends, and fancies of a child’s imagination. There lives the memory of the Storygirl and the days of yore when his father’s wardrobe held clothes, evergreen trees, and sweet breezes. 

Gilbert knows they’re not real. But sometimes he wishes they were.

2: A Silhouette

Avonlea is uncertain and strange when Gilbert finally returns home. As his carriage carries him through town, the heavy feeling sinks deeper into his chest. Where has that ethereal beauty of the island gone? It used to seep out of the red soil like petrichor, but now the air has lost its fragrant charm. Gilbert can’t help but feel as if maybe the magic PEI days of his youth had been but a childish whimsy, stripped away by inevitable adulthood. 

Then, the hazy memory of the Storygirl returns and for a brief moment. Uninvited, but not unwelcome. Gilbert closes his eyes and lets himself recall the details of her face. There’s comfort in his own childhood myths, as if he is not so far gone, after all.  And when he opens his eyes, he’s home. 

From the doorway, it looks like a portrait—Sebastian frozen on the parlor sofa with low hung shoulders, Mary holding his head to her middle and caressing his bushy silk hair. Gilbert emerges from the blue shadows of the entryway. 

He should announce himself properly. Perhaps attempt reentering with a wide smile and some kind of good news to brighten the mood. Instead, he hears himself say, “Who died?”

Mary tears away from Bash with a gasp, soaring over to the door to pull Gilbert’s face into the crook of her neck. 

“Gilbert! Were you due home so soon?” she says after drawing a watery breath. “I think we’ve lost track of the days!” 

“Yes. I’m on time down to the minute,” Gilbert replies with a smile. “Are you...going to answer my question?” 

Mary’s brows knit together in confusion as she pulls away to examine the state of his face. Her fingers smooth over the frown lines at the corners of his own eyes, but it’s Bash who answers. 

“No one died. At least, we really hope not,” he explains, distracting Gilbert from his vague answer by pulling Gilbert close for a hug of his own.  “None of that for now. Take your coat and shoes off before someone starts to believe that this isn’t your own home.” 

For the rest of the day, Gilbert tries to whittle out the truth from Bash at any opportunity he gets. At the lunch table, after recounting tales from college and his boring graduation ceremony. At the kitchen sink, elbow deep in sudsy water. At the foot of the garden, pulling weeds and sprinkling water onto thirsty soil. He tries again and again, but Bash does not budge. 

When evening rolls around, it’s pull has already lulled Gilbert to sleep on the parlor sofa. Across from him, Mary stitches together a small hole in one of his old shirts until her own exhaustion makes her prick her finger. 

“Can’t keep my eyes open a second longer,” she yawns. Depositing a kiss on Bash’s head, then Gilbert’s, she murmurs, “Don’t stay up too long. I want to keep looking in the morning.” 

Bash lets a moment pass when he hears their door shut, waits a few seconds more, then crosses the room to where Gilbert is sprawled out on the sofa. The newly minted doctor stirs at the feeling of his brother shaking him awake. 

“Mary’s gone to sleep. We can talk now.” 

Gilbert’s eyelashes are heavy, but he pries them open at the stony tone of his brother’s voice and pushes himself to an upright position. 

“So...What have you been hiding from me all day?” 

Bash’s lips press together. 

“Did you know the Cuthberts adopted a daughter?” 

“No, I didn’t,” Gilbert replies, confused why it matters. 

“They adopted her just before your father passed away, I heard. You went away to our steamer, then straight to college, so you never had a chance to meet her. But when you sent me and Mary to this house, she was here waiting for us. Someone had told her that she’d be getting new neighbors, neighbors that might face the same sort of hardships she did when she first arrived. She showed us around Avonlea, helped Mary clean the house after being empty so long. Her name is Anne. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.” 

“Did something...happen to her? Do you need me to see her?” 

“You can’t,” Bash spits bitterly. Then, remembering himself, he says, “She’s not sick.” 

“I don’t understand, then.” 

Bash sighs, balling his fists in his lap. 

“Mary and I went to visit her son in Charlottetown for an afternoon last week. Anne offered to come and give everything a good cleaning while we were gone, as a neighborly gift or something. We tried to tell her that it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. She’s not one to lose battles. She arrived a few hours past dawn, but when we came back, she was gone. Then we found out she never went home to Green Gables. No one in Avonlea has seen her in over a week.”

Suddenly, it makes sense to Gilbert why the house is weighty with the feeling of loss . It has lost something. Gilbert doesn’t know this Anne, but whoever she is, she took the island’s light with her.

“What do you think happened?” Gilbert asks, rubbing his knuckles over his eyes.

“Someone broke in. Found a woman all by herself with no one around for miles. You can imagine the rest.” Bash holds his fist with his other hand, as if he might hit something if he lets go. “Anne is...a unique woman. Kind and brave. But to Avonlea she is strange and of varlet stock, and with the way they see Mary and I… Only a few families have been willing to help us look for her. Would you? In the morning? You know Avonlea better than us.” 

Gilbert doesn’t hesitate. 

“I will.” 

3: A Recollection

It just doesn’t add up, Gilbert thinks bitterly, splashing cold water on his tired cheeks. His reflection stares back at him, looking just as dejected as he feels. But what else could there be? I’ve already scoured the house. No signs of a struggle. Nothing broken or stolen. Guess I’ll just have to look just as hard in town. See if anyone knows anything. He scoffs. It sounds like something out of a children’s book. A fair maiden walks into a house that swallows her up whole. Too bad I’m a doctor and not a knight. He means it only in jest, but it sparks the flame of an idea in the farthest corner of his mind—the corner containing his childhood and its fanciful inventions. 

And then, there it is. A memory, a reminiscence of sorts. 

One wardrobe. 

One door drawn open.

One small Gilbert Blythe crawling into it. 

He couldn’t have been more than six or seven when it’d happened, nor can he remember why he’d even ventured into the wardrobe in the first place. Perhaps it had been a particularly clever hideaway in a game of hide-and-go-seek. Or maybe his father had sent him in search of his coat and something had tipped him off that there was more. 

The memory itself is relatively uneventful. Little Gilbert opened the wardrobe door, crawled in, and somehow, miraculously tripped into a bank of snow. The bank of snow was only a mere plot of land in a world Little Gilbert was not brave enough to explore. He’d scurried back to the door, but left it cracked open for just a moment longer to memorize the world he’d found. It left an image in his mind that he carried with him forever, a memory just as fond as that of the Storygirl—a patch of evergreen trees, sweet air, and an impossible winter magic. 

Let’s pretend for a moment this memory is actually a memory and not just a childish imagination, Gilbert ponders. If Anne came to clean the house, maybe she opened the wardrobe to clean it and organize it. Could she have fallen in? Maybe she’s lost! Maybe she has no way home and—

Dr. Blythe, get a hold of yourself. Exhaustion has made you mad. 

You’ll assist Bash in the morning, you’ll question the town’s people, you’ll come to the bottom of this. But you won’t be able to find her by courting such preposterous ideas.

4: An Act of Trust

His resolve lasts an entire hour.

Then it dissolves hopelessly and gives way to the memory of the Wardrobe-world.  Pacing in front of his father’s bed, Gilbert weighs whether or not he should indulge his childhood suspicions. It plays over and over in his mind, a frustrating possibility.

At first, he fights it.

If Anne Shirley-Cuthbert is really as headstrong as the Bash has described her to be, then perhaps she left on her volition, tired of small-island life. It can’t be that hard to believe that a woman could abandon a monotonous past in favor of whatever this young century has to offer her. Gilbert’s very last suspicion should be that Anne somehow found a magical world inside a wardrobe and never returned. Yet, here he is, nudging his foot along the carved trim of the wardrobe with an itching to open it . 

Damn it all. What is there to lose?  

Then he does open it. The hinges of the doors screech after being left to sleep, untouched for a decade. At first, it smells of mothballs and the stale smell of his father’s clothes. But seconds later, there’s a hint of sweet—

Gilbert slams the door shut. Absolutely not, he scolds himself. You’re hallucinating. You want this woman to return so badly that you’ll pretend she’s anywhere but dead in a ditch. But then again … Gilbert turns back to the door, placing his hand on the newly dusted wood. Who would know if he indulged in this wild feeling? Shouldn’t he, a trained doctor and an intelligent man, listen to his own gut? 

Alright , he decides. If he’s going to do this, he isn’t going to do it halfway. 

With a short breath, he draws the door open and closes his eyes shut. Then, he’s crawling in, a grown man squeezed into the tight confines of a wooden closet. It’s difficult to breathe above the heavy smell of age and wool, but just like before, it slips away into an unexpected sweetness. Gilbert crawls closer to it, hands and knees finding new space with every pace forward. Behind him, the wardrobe door is abandoned and opened, but Gilbert doesn’t come back out. 

Instead, his fingers find tall, soft grass and his intuition cries in victory.

5: A Twinless Shoe

Gilbert allows himself exactly ten seconds to sit and stare at the pleasant forest clearing before doing what any logical doctor might do in his situation—secede to the visual proof of a magical world and promptly begin observations.

On a first glance, the impossible world-inside-the-wardrobe doesn’t seem all too different than his Avonlea. There are clusters of trees surrounding the clearing, each crowned with vibrant shades of green, moreso than those of home. A mystical softness teems in the air like a breeze, loitering along his skin until he is a mess of goosebumps. A single lamppost towers over him catching sunlight, unlit but clean of moss or dirt. At its base, a leather boot, dainty and slim. 

Something clears its throat, propelling Gilbert’s soul from his body at the shock of it. He whirls around, grass stains on the knees of his trousers. Before him, sits a trio of white-tailed foxes, peering at him with more expression than should be allowed for such creatures. Gilbert tries to steady his pulse but finds the effort unsuccessful. 

“They’re only foxes,” he reasons with himself. “They make all sorts of strange noises. No cause for alarm.”

“That’s a foolish delusion,” the largest of the foxes answers. 

Gilbert blinks. The fox quirks an invisible brow.

“I beg your pardon?” Gilbert stammers. 

The fox stretches, equal parts annoyed and bored.

“With the types of humans that are supposed to stumble out of that door, you think you’d have a firmer head on your shoulders. Wonder what Aslan chose you for?” 

“I dunno, Rambleleaf. Maybe he’s here for entertainment?” the second fox pipes in. Turning her sunbright amber eyes to him, she asks, “Do you sing? Dance? Tell stories?” 

“That is what he brought Anne for,” the third fox adds. “Maybe one storyteller wasn’t enough.”

“I have a hard time believing that this schmuck could tell stories as well as Anne could,” Rambleleaf counters.  

“Anne’s here ?” Gilbert spits out, desperate. The conversation between the foxes dies out as quickly as it started, replaced by a stunned silence. They exchange a glance, as if deciding whether or not to indulge this fumbling fool in Anne’s whereabouts, but Gilbert is desperate. “Is Anne Shirley-Cuthbert here? I’m told she has red hair and freckles.” 

“You...you speak as if you don’t know her?” Rambleleaf queries, eyes narrow. 

“Not personally,” stammers Gilbert. He clambers to his feet and rushes to the foxes, who jolt but don’t shy away. It seems as if he has surprised them, as if they’ve never had a human kneel so desperately before them. “We’ve been looking everywhere for her, trying not to fear the worst. Her parents are friends of mine. They’re worried sick because one day she left to visit my family’s home and never returned. Please , will you take me to her. I need to make sure she’s okay.” 

“How did you know to look here?” Rambleleaf states, unconvinced. Gilbert can give them no answer, but the truth. 

“A feeling. I once came once here as a boy and remembered it, though I can’t say I know where here is.” 

Rambleleaf ponders this, his tail coming up to the underside of his chin, like a hand scratching at whiskers. His eyes trail to the boot underneath the lamppost, then fall undecidedly on the poor fellow before him. 

When finally he says something, it’s—“Who are you?” 

“Me? Oh, um, I’m Dr. Gilbert Blythe.” 

“Well, Dr. Gilbert sir, I’m Rambleleaf, or just Ramble if you’re nice about it. Welcome to Narnia.” The name Narnia sends a warm thrill down Gilbert’s spine to finally hear it. The existence of it is already enough cause for hope. Rambleleaf nudges Gilbert’s hand with a clawless paw and points over to the single boot laying sideways in the grass. “You’re in luck. We’re good friends of Anne’s. She sent us back to find the shoe she left behind, so if you want to see her, you can follow us back to the Larsack village. It’s not far from here. Just a bit north on the west border of the Western Woods.”  

“I’ll follow you,” Gilbert decides resolutely. 

“Good. Then grab that boot and we’ll be on our way.” 

Gilbert does as he’s told, pushing aside the frustration of being told what to do by a fox. With the shoe in his possession, he curses that he didn’t think to bring any sort of satchel or carrier case. Then again, he isn’t supposed to be here long. Just long enough to find Anne and bring her home. 

Then, without wasting another moment, the foxes disappear in the wood, leaving Gilbert to follow. 

And he does, the door to his father’s wardrobe entirely, completely forgotten.  

6: A Duet

They trek through the thicket of the forest until the soles of Gilbert’s feet have grown sore at the unfamiliar terrain beneath them. Having left his pocket watch sitting on his desk back home, Gilbert can’t be sure of how much time has passed—enough certainly for the foxes to have eased their snide opinion of him. He finds they like to listen, asking Gilbert all sorts of questions but offering no answers of their own. 

As it turns out, Gilbert is not so bad a storyteller, after all. 

“—but children believe in magic the way adults in my world don’t. So I told the little girl that the cure for her stomachache was a feather on the underside of her toes and all her laughter made her forget that she had eaten too many biscuits. Sometimes I think medicine has more possibilities than we can know. Certainly being here has…”

Gilbert slows to a stop and turns his ear to the sky. He draws in a quick breath of hope at the faint lilt of laughter, music, and one rich voice towering above it all. 

He takes off running, hopping over Rambleleaf and sprinting down the path. A crowd’s cheers and the minstrel songs grow closer and louder with each wide stride. He all but crashes into someone at the back of the crowd, scanning the clearing for a head of red hair and a face of sandy freckles. There are a few tents set up along the circle of the crowd, and in between them must be a hundred people sitting and standing, all with their attention locked on one person. From the back, Gilbert finds his view obstructed by some particularly tall Narnians. Just as he begins to plan a route through the mass of people, a soft paw nudges his ankle. 

“You’re just in time to hear her speak,” Rambleleaf says at his feet. “Can you lift me up so I don’t get stepped on? I want to see this too.” Gilbert kneels, allowing Ramble to hop onto his shoulder before embarking into the crowd, drawing closer and closer to the makeshift stage. 

And then he sees her and all the pieces of his mangled heart slant together, restoring it in one, breathless moment.

“The Storygirl, ” Gilbert heaves quietly. 

“That’s what we’ve taken to calling her here, too,” Ramble says. 

His Storygirl hasn’t changed a bit. There are still halos crowning her smile and kingdoms of possibilities in her eyes. But the young dreamer and commander of words Gilbert had seen in the fields all those years had grown so tall and beautiful that he had no words left for himself—only a fiery warmth and an insatiable desire to talk to her.  

“That’s Anne there?” Gilbert whispers to Ramble. 

“Unmistakable, right?” Ramble murmurs back.

“I’m going to get closer.”

“Oh, good! I can’t hear from all the way over here,” Rambleleaf agrees, nudging Gilbert with his nose. 

Gilbert collides with a few shoulders and elbows as he passes through, but only because he cannot tear his eyes away from her. He feels like the thirteen-year-old lad with weak knees and a pining heart all over again. When they’ve reached the makeshift stage, Ramble waves his tale to the Storygirl. The flash of white catches her attention and through the next words of her tale, she gives a dimpled smile and nod. 

Then her eyes fall on Gilbert and her tongue stumbles. He watches her gaze travel from his heart-struck eyes, to his Avonlea clothes, to her boot in his hand. Anne chuckled and extended her bootless foot. Gilbert blinked down at it, the “Doctor” part of his mind wondering if she wanted him to examine it. 

“The boot, Gilbert,” Ramble hisses in his ear. 

“Oh! ” 

Anne continues to keep the crowd enraptured in her tale even as Gilbert slides the boot over her lacy stockings and ties the laces. When he’s finished, she bends low to him and whispers, “Care to help me with my story?” 

“Me ?” Gilbert chokes. 

“Yes, Gilbert Blythe. You .” 

A shiver shoots like a flash of summer lightning down his back. How does she know my name? Gilbert’s mind wonders on repeat. He feels himself nod, only to be swept up onto the stage with her strong hands a second later. She offers Ramble a hand down, pressing a kiss to the top of his fur, then turns back to Gilbert. 

“Play along!” she murmurs quietly. 

Gilbert nods once more, turning nervous eyes to the crowd of onlookers. Beside him, Anne shoots back into her carefully woven tale. 

“It would’ve been easy for Cordelia to resign herself to the fate everyone wanted for her. But could she submit herself to everyday mundanities? Milking cows and pulling weeds? She could see the honor in these tasks, but somehow knew that her destiny laid elsewhere. She turned to a neighboring lad and asked him his thoughts.” 

Anne grabs Gilbert’s fingers and poses her body as if engaged in a conversation with him. Her tongue stills, and she urges Gilbert to take the next few lines. 

“Well, er…” Get it together, Blythe. He takes a deep breath. “The neighbor lad assured her that she bore enough heart and talent to succeed at any task she put her mind to. That it wasn’t a matter of finding her destiny, but...creating it? For herself.”

Anne smiles. Gilbert feels it thrum pleasantly behind his ribs. 

“Cordelia asked the neighbor lad if he would help her find the better feelings of her heart, the truth behind her soul and desires.” 

“He agreed,” Gilbert says resolutely. “Because the lad had already traveled across the world to find her. What was another journey?” 

7. A Pair at Tea

“You must tell me how you managed to find me!” Anne exclaims, pouring sweet tea into two small stone goblets. Her hair is loose over her shoulders, and Gilbert wonders if it’s the reason for the raspberry, rose smell of her.

Gilbert hasn’t quite shaken the timid nervousness. This is how he imagines he might feel if he were engaged in conversation with the King of England—only Anne is much more beautiful, even if she is just as intimidating. His eyes follow her hands as she hands him his tea, and he accepts the offering as something to occupy himself with.

He ignores her question. For now, at least.

“How...how do you know my name?” 

Anne smiles into her goblet.

“I’ve dusted your photograph hundreds of times helping Mary clean your home. You’re often all she can talk about when we’re polishing the silver or scrubbing windows.” 

“Really?” 

“Indeed. I know plenty about you, Dr. Blythe.” 

“Just Gilbert is fine,” he hums, cheeks warm. Then his eyes dim and he stares at his own reflection in his tea. “What sorts of things do you know?” 

Anne ponders this for a moment. Her fingers twist strands of hair into a gentle braid as she speaks, “I know that we just missed each other when we were children. That you left the island the same winter I arrived. I know that you’re the golden boy of Avonlea, and that all the mothers have been counting down the days until your return to marry their daughters to you. I know you won a prestigious scholarship that allowed you an excellent medical education. Congratulations by the way. I know—”

“ Alright !” Gilbert coughed. “I almost feel ashamed that I know barely anything about you. Only that you’re selflessly kind, a legendary master of storytelling, and that you’re unearthly beautiful.” 

Roses flourish her cheeks in lovely shades of red. Gilbert bites his lip to keep from smiling. 

“Anything you’d want to know, you only need ask. I’m an open book.”

“Then may I ask what it is you’re doing here?” Gilbert begins carefully. “The Cuthberts are worried sick. Bash and Mary, too. We all thought something terrible had happened to you.” 

“Terrible? Why? I’ve only been gone nearly a day. I’ve disappeared for longer periods of time into Charlottetown to visit friends.” 

Gilbert blinks.

“Anne, you’ve been missing for over a week. You came over to help clean the house a whole week ago.” 

Her face shoots up to him. 

“You must be mistaken. This isn’t my first time visiting Narnia. Time travels more quickly here than it does in Avonlea. That’s the way it’s always been.” 

“All I know is what I’ve been told.”

Anne rises from the table, a hand over her mouth. 

“A week? But...but how did you know where to find me?” 

It’s Gilbert’s turn to blush, but he answers honestly. 

“I think I accidentally stumbled upon Narnia as a boy, but always thought it was a dream or an imagination. When you went missing at my house, I just had this...feeling I couldn’t shake. I’m still having a hard time believing it, to be honest.” 

“For a man of science, I think you are doing admirably,” Anne says warmly. “I admit, I stumbled here in a similar way. I was going to wash your fathers old things because they’d grown so dusty, but I tripped into the wardrobe.” 

“That’s kind of you. To take care of my father’s things, I mean. Especially when you weren’t acquainted with him.” 

“Mary told me he meant a lot to you,” Anne answers easily. “Besides, you’re a man now. I thought you might like to wear some of his things to help keep his memory closer by. I know I wish I could. Wear my mother’s dresses, that is.” 

“Oh,” Gilbert frowns. “I apologize. I’d forgotten you’d lost your family too.” 

“An unhappy sort of thing to have in common with someone, I’ll admit,” Anne replies, a sad smile on her lips. “But you and I both have our makeshift families now. And this new little friendship of ours. That brings me to this question, though, Gilbert. How long do you plan on staying?” 

“How long do you plan to stay?” Gilbert replies, heart catching speed in his chest. 

“For the duration of the match,” Anne replies, as if it were obvious. 

“The...match?” 

“Ramble didn’t tell you? There’s a Storytelling Match that’s taking place right now. Whomever can spin the best tale will get to tell a story to Aslan, the King of Narnia.”

“Ramble did say something about Aslan bringing you here for entertainment.” 

“That’s only a guess,” Anne corrects warmly. “I’d like to win the match and meet Aslan, and then I plan to return home.”  

Gilbert isn’t sure what to say next. The right thing to do is return home and explain as best he can the truth behind Anne’s disappearance. At the very least, fabricate some lie that assures everyone of her safety and inevitable return home. 

But to his surprise, he finds he doesn’t want to leave. He wants to witness this storytelling match, support Anne and witness her victory. Maybe what Anne said about time in Narnia is right, after all. If they stay in Narnia for a while longer, perhaps it will be like no time has passed at all. 

“Will you stay, Gilbert?” Anne asks quietly. “I know you’ve just met me and that we’re barely acquaintances. I won’t fault you if you return back home to your patients and to our families. But…” 

“But?” Gilbert whispers hopefully. 

“But if you’d like to stay for a while and explore Narnia with me, I would welcome the company. In fact, I’d be glad for it.” 

“I’m so newly home that I don’t quite have patients yet,” Gilbert says offhandedly, mulling the idea over in his mind. “And there’s no guarantee that if I leave that I’ll ever be able to come back and see you. To make sure you’re alright.” 

“There’s not,” Anne agrees, eyes glimmering with warm light. 

He surprises himself with what he says next. 

“Then I’ll stay.” 

#anne of green gables #anne with an e #shirbert #shirbert fic #tessa writes #the truth always comes out in the tags and the truth is this #this was very hard to write #which is why it's a bit late #but i gave it 110%!! #so i hope you all enjoy it just the same #merry christmas and happy holidays to you all #i send all my love! <3

[doctorgerth]

One Piece of Summer (Heat ZoroxReader)

(I apologize if I did this wrong! First time submitting to things lol)

Hiiii!

I’m new on the One Piece fanfic scene but I had a ton of fun writing this first little story for the One Piece of Summer Writing Challenge! (also please forgive me if there’s multiple submissions i’m returning to tumblr after like an 8 year hiatus lol) (also also i’m sorry i’m verbose i hope this isn’t too long)

Warnings: some language

Word Count: 3628

Word Prompt: Heat

You can hardly believe that it’d been two whole years since the crew had been together. Two years. Holy shit. You feel a lump in your throat as you approach Shakky’s place. You have no idea who, if anyone, had already arrived. Your heart races excitedly at the thought and a small smile creeps over your features. You make yourself sit on a nearby bench and breathe before you hike the last flight of stairs to the bar. It’s a hot day, impossibly hot and you sit and take a sip of water from your hip flask. The cool liquid pours down your throat and you sigh happily as you wonder what the very near future would hold.

Would it be Franky? You imagine the blue-haired madman, and laugh. Maybe he’d found another way to fuel his cyborg frame other than cola. You laugh again.

Who am I kidding? You think to yourself. The reason he runs on cola is because he wants to run on cola.

Or maybe it would be Usopp or Chopper? The last time you saw Chopper, it had been so frightening. He was vast and out of control from using those rumble balls. A shudder runs up your spine at the thought, but you push the thought away shaking your head. Your h/c hair ruffles at the motion, and you push a strand out of your face as you stare at the ground beneath your boots. Usopp, you are sure, will be one of the early ones, not wanting to be one-upped. You roll your eyes, your mind’s ear imagining him shouting, “Well, of course I’m here first! I’m the great captain Usopp!”

You already know what Brook–you mean “Soul King” had been up to. You laugh. You had to admit that his stuff was pretty catchy, and you wonder if he’d even want to come back to the pirate life after all that fame and fortune. It had been nice over the last two years to follow him in the papers whenever you could; a small link to your old life had been comforting and familiar.

Nami and Robin were almost certainly already here–Nami, probably off conning some shop owner into giving their store away half-price, and Robin wandering around looking at architecture, reading a book, or saying weirdly cryptic lines to passersby. You sigh fondly, reminiscing about the times the three ladies of the Strawhats spent together. Not having had many female friends to speak of before the Strawhats, it had been nice to have some badass women to bond with over the months before your separation. In your two years alone, you’d missed the companionship.

Maybe Sanji is at Shakky’s already, cooking up some delicious concoction for you to devour. Your stomach grumbles on cue, and your mouth waters thinking about it. If Luffy was already here, then any food would be gone twice over. Of all the changes that are sure to have occurred, your captain’s appetite is the least likely to change. You can only imagine what power he has achieved in the last two years. Your stomach sinks a bit thinking about when you learned of Ace’s death in the Paramount War. The pain Luffy must have endured. Alone. But, he was not one to dwell, and wouldn’t want you to either.

So you don’t. You’re strong–much stronger than you were the last time the crew saw you. You’re not the same girl that you were two years ago. No, not even close. You’re taller, with broader shoulders and hips. While you were once slender due to malnutrition, you are now toned and muscled after two years of hard training. You felt vitality that you once never thought you’d feel coursing through your muscles. Your top, frayed at the hem, falls to just above your naval and drapes over one shoulder, leaving the other uncovered. Your s/c flesh is exposed to the waistband of your khaki shorts. The leather of your boots is soft and worn, the same pair you’d been wearing when you were launched away from your crew by Kuma. The holster dangling from your waist carried some of your throwing knives, which you twiddle absently at your side in nervousness. You had become adept at hand to hand combat since the crew saw you last. You are nimble, fast and lethal. You smirk and let the confidence roll over your body. You can’t wait to see how skilled everyone else had become.

You flex and stretch, standing up from the bench and begin your ascent up the stairs. They groan under your weight and you shift the bag on your shoulder, securing it more tightly against your body. You feel your heart beginning to race again at the thought of the final crew member. You can only imagine how strong he’d become.

Zoro.

You think of his green hair, and his white shirt, the top buttons always haphazardly undone. His slim black pants and boots, the sound of his earrings jangling in the sea breeze. You see his tight, intense gaze and that smirk that always weakened your knees. The knot in your stomach tangles more at the thought as you crest the top of the stairs. You recall the days that you sat in the Crow’s Nest together as he worked out. He never paid you much attention, but simply tolerating your presence in his sacred space made you feel important.

You feel the heat rise to your face and you can’t tell if it’s because of the sweltering sun of the Archipelago or the indecent thoughts that have begun to flood your mind. You take a deep breath as you nearly reach the doorway of Shakky’s place, when you stop in your tracks at the silhouette in the doorway. The sun is bright, so you can’t make out who it is right away, but as the figure takes a step, there’s no mistaking that green head of hair.

“Well,” You hear Shakky’s voice from inside the bar.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d be the first,” You hear Rayleigh’s voice chime in.

The greenette stays silent for a moment and then replies, “Oh yeah? Nobody else has shown up.” He pauses. “Well damn, guess they got lost.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice. It’s unmistakable.

Before you can stop yourself, you call out to him. “Zoro!” You immediately flush, but you know this time it’s not from the heat.

You see Zoro stiffen at your voice, but he quickly turns around and meets your gaze with his own.

Christ…

You immediately notice that your eyes only meet one of his, a scar running from forehead to cheekbone on the left side of his face, his eye tightly shut. It makes him look even more ruggedly attractive, if at all possible, and you allow yourself to stare for a moment.  His jaw, still angular and chiseled, is formed into a lazy half-smirk. Your e/c eyes trail down from his jaw to his throat and his collarbone, a body part you became intimately familiar with when you’d spent long moments staring at it over the top of his unbuttoned shirt, wondering what it would be like to nuzzle your face into its contours.

A part you are not used to seeing so casually, was the rest of his broad chest, which is exposed under the deep green coat he was wearing, the trademark Mihawk scar that ran from shoulder to hip still proudly displayed. You are glad to see that his haramaki remained unchanged over the last two years along with the three swords he carries at his side. He shifts his weight to his left side and leans his forearm on the hilt of his swords.

“Y/n!” He replies with a broad grin of recognition. He jogs toward you, and you find yourself moving towards him too.

Zoro is stunned to see you. In all honesty, he is stunned to know that he’s the first to arrive in the first place. Although, he did leave several weeks prior. Just in case.

You are…so different. His eyes move across your body, and he coughs, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks. He grits his teeth frustratedly.

Shit…get it together. He thinks to himself.

“I can’t believe we’re the first ones here!” You say, before pausing. “Actually…how the hell are you the first one here??”

You laugh and he manages to chuckle too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He jokes.

“Shakky and Raleigh inside?” You ask, jabbing your thumb towards the open door to the bar.

Zoro nods, rubbing a calloused hand at the nape of his neck. “Yep, they’re in there. Waiting like the old gossips they are.” He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

You can’t help but watch his arm move behind his head. His worn bandana is tied around his bicep over the top of his coat, and you can’t help but imagine how his tanned skin stretches over the muscle there. You realize, too late, that you had been silent for a beat too long.

“Y/n? You good?” He asks, raising a brow.

Your attention snaps back like a rubber band and you laugh nervously. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry. Just can’t believe how long it’s been.” You say lamely.

You walk into the bar, Zoro trailing behind you and you greet Shakky and Rayleigh with a wide grin. Shakky compliments your new look, making you spin around as if to show off your outfit. You can’t help but feel confident and a surge of pride wells within you. She pours you a drink, having already poured one for Zoro, and invites you to sit down at a far booth. You sit next to Rayleigh, playfully bumping him and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. He gives you an affectionate squeeze as he tells you how pleased he is to see you guys again. Zoro takes a seat at the far corner of a booth. He props his feet up and takes a long drag of sake straight from the bottle. He’d already finished the drink that was poured, naturally, and stopped Shakky before she could pour him another. He asked for the bottle, shrugging and said that we should just “cut out the middleman.”

You regale the three others in your tales of the last two years. You speak about your Master, your training, the island you’d resided on, everything. Shakky gives updates too, about some of the rumors that had been floating around in the Strawhats’ absence, particularly about Luffy and Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. Shakky, never one to be subtle, asks Zoro pointblank about what he’d been up to.

“Eh, not too much excitement,” He says vaguely. “The usual. Swords, drinking, naps.” Shakky rolls her eyes, unsatisfied, but you just laugh, knowing that he was not one to talk too much about himself.

After a long while, the four of you notice that the sun has begun to set. You are beginning to feel the drinks you’d consumed, your laughter a bit louder, your tongue a bit looser, your hair a bit wilder. The bar is illuminated in deep orange and red hues and you glance over at Zoro. Half of his face is cast in shadow, while the other half colored the same tint as the room. It looks almost as if he is on fire and you are mesmerized by him. He’s staring at you intently. You see beads of sweat along his hairline, and you notice that he has removed his outer coat.

“Damn Shakky,” He breathes, not breaking eye contact with you. “I don’t remember it being this hot two years ago.”

Shakky laughs. “Well, we’re going through a bit of a heatwave right now. It’s unusual for this time of year, but occasionally the weather currents bring a front in. It’s supposed to be like this for the next few days.”

His knees are propped up and he rests his forearms on top of them as he breaks your gaze and looks out the window. HIs profile is immaculate, and your eyes trace each feature–his straight nose, his angled jaw, and his full lips. Your lips subconsciously part, and it isn’t until you feel your tongue on them that you notice how you’re staring. Shakky, however, has noticed how the two of you have been trading stares at each other the entire evening. She smirks and stands with a yawn.

“Well Rayleigh,” She starts. “It seems likes it’s about time to close up shop for the evening. You good?”

Rayleigh looks confused at first, however, when Shakky gestures quickly to you and Roronoa, Rayleigh nods knowingly. He looks down at his nearly full drink and smiles. He tips his head back and swigs down the rest, placing the empty glass resolutely on the hard wood. “You know what, Shakky? You’re absolutely right. These old bones can’t drink like they used to. I’m headed down to my place at the docks. It’s cooler there anyway.” He stands up and bids the room farewell. The doorbell jingles behind him as he exits the bar.

You get the feeling that they’d been watching you and Zoro, and you feel embarrassed. But you don’t want to complain. You just hope that Zoro wouldn’t be ready to turn in yet either.

Shakky approaches Zoro and gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Night, Roronoa. If you get lonely, my room is always open.” She winks at him, entertained by how he squirms at the unexpected contact.

“Uh, yeah, sure…” He mutters, flustered. Shakky laughs.

“Shit Roronoa, just relax. I’m only kidding.” She walks over to a door behind the bar, presumably that led to her sleeping quarters, and opens it. “Or am I?” She grins slyly.

This time, Zoro knows better. The greenette shakes his head with a chuckle. “Goodnight, Shakky.”

She, too, disappears. The door closes behind her with a soft click, and the two of you are left alone. The sun has finally set beneath the mangroves and the sound of crickets fills the room. Despite the sun having set, the room is humid and very warm.

You reach a slender hand up and wipe beads of condensation off the back of your neck with a nervous sigh. “You’re right, Zoro,” You say after a moment. “It is absolutely stifling in here.”

He hums in agreement and holds up the bottle of sake questioningly. You nod and he tosses the closed bottle to you. However, his toss is a little short and to the left. But you’re fast and you catch it without a problem, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Aim much?” You joke as you pour yourself another drink before tossing it back to him.

He catches it easily and smirks. “Well, just checking to see if all that training you were going on about actually paid off.” He takes a swig. “Seems like it did.”

You were unbelievable. Zoro marvels at your agility. He had been enthralled as you told your story of the last two years. He watched the way your eyes lit up in excitement at certain parts or when your tone shifted to something more sinister. This was the y/n he’d always known–vibrant, curious and powerful. Zoro has always admired your tenacity. It was something of himself that he saw in you. He admired your intelligence as well, and your quick wit. It had always been a little intimidating, but now you were a force. It overwhelmed the swordsman. And thrilled him in the same way a new enemy excited him, got his adrenaline pumping and his heart racing.

He watches as you take a sip of your drink. His gaze follows the long line of your neck down to your collarbone, which he finds himself lingering on for longer than what was appropriate between nakama. You had always been objectively attractive, but Zoro never really paid attention to things like that. But now, you made that impossible to ignore. He is very attracted to you, entranced by your confident aura that pours off of you like cool sake.

The alcohol warms your blood and before you know what you’re doing, you prop your elbow on the table and say, “Seems like your training paid off too. I mean, look at you. All extra-muscley and shit.”

Zoro’s eyes widen slightly before he laughs out loud. “Thank you? I think.”

The liquid courage you’ve consumed does little for your filter (or your shame) so you continue. “I remember when I used to hang out in the Crow’s nest while you worked out. You were strong then, obviously. But it’s different now. You seem…invincible.” You breathe.

Zoro takes a moment to consider. “Invincible, huh?” He chuckles. “Hardly.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but don’t reply.

Zoro stands up, his coat remaining in his seat. Your eyes follow the contour of his chest and he notices you watching him. He loves knowing that you look at him the same way that he looks at you.

“Come on,” He says after a moment, holding out his free hand, the other still holding the bottle of sake.

You take it without thinking. “Where are we going?” His hand is rough and cool to the touch, despite the heat in the room. He’s never held your hand before now. His good eye lands on you with a smirk that turns the knot low in your stomach.

“Up,” He replies in a whisper.

You nod wordlessly and stand up, trailing behind him as he walks towards the back door of the bar. When you exit, you sigh happily when a cool breeze flows along your damp skin. He echoes the sentiment with a contented hum, and continues towards the side of the building where he finds a ladder.

“Ladies first,” He grins, gesturing for you to climb the ladder up to the roof of the bar.

You raise an eyebrow, but comply nonetheless. As you climb, you make sure to move your hips more exaggeratedly, knowing the view you were providing him.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, of course, and admires your ass as you climb the ladder. You really are something. He wants to do more than just hold your hand. He wants to trail his hands along your curves, feel your strong body against the planes of his chest. He wants to know what your lips taste like, what your h/c hair feels like entangled in his fingers. But he knows that he needs to take it slow for both of your sake. It’s been two years. A lot has changed, and you are still his nakama first and foremost. There’s nothing that he would sacrifice to keep that.

The ladder is taller than you think it is by looking at it and when you arrive at the top of the bar, you are surprised to find an expansive platform.

“Wow,” You look open-mouthed. “How’d you know this was up here?” You look to Zoro who hops up onto the platform.

He shrugs. “I didn’t. I just saw the ladder earlier and figured it would be worth exploring.”

He walks up behind you in all of his shirtless beauty and sits, his legs apart as he leans back on his forearms. You’re still standing, looking up at the vast mangroves all around you, the stars peeking through the tree-tops. He lets you admire the scenery because it gives him a few moments to admire you. He clears his throat to get your attention and pulls you down to him.

With a light gasp, you find yourself sitting between his legs, your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around you. You are blushing furiously now. He hums contentedly, moving to nuzzle your hair and inhale your clean scent.

“What are you doing?” You manage to croak out.

“Enjoying the company,” He murmurs into the side of your neck.

You feel his heart beating swiftly against your back as you lean into him with a deep sigh. Your brain wants to overcomplicate this.

What does this mean? What does he want? Does he feel the same way about me that I feel about him? Does he…you gulp. Does he…want me, the way that I want him?

He feels you stiffen. “Y/n, hey,” He says. “It’s okay. This doesn’t have to mean anything that we don’t want it to mean.”

It seems like mind-reading is on the roster of new super powers he’s acquired. You grumble internally.

He laughs, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before he moves away. You whimper softly at the loss of contact, and turn to face him with a confused look. Though he did shift backwards, he didn’t move all that far away from you, so you’re surprised that you’re nearly face to face when you turn around.

He gently touches his thumb to your parted lips. “We’ve got time, y/n. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. So let’s just take the time and figure it out.” He smiles.

You feel your heart swell in your chest as you meet his intense stare. “Y-yeah, o-okay.” You stutter, still not quite believing that Roronoa Zoro has anything he wants to figure out with you. Your reverie is interrupted by Zoro’s gentle kiss. It’s a kiss that foreshadows what else could come of it, one that’s slow and burning and brimming with possibilities. He pulls away with a shudder.

“We’ve got time.” He says again, seeming to convince himself with the second iteration. “Besides,” He pulls back fully this time, taking in your lovely face before he smirks. “It’s too damn hot to be this close right now anyway.”

@laws-yellow-submarine​

WOW WOW WOW this is absolutely amazing, my darling!!!! I was totally enthralled the entire time and was really hoping it wouldn’t end any time soon! And you painted the scenes so beautifully, it felt like I was actually in the story!! All the characters are so well written and gah I didn’t think it was possible to fall more in love with Zoro but damnnn this story had me swooning for the swordsman 🥰

I really really enjoyed this and I’m honestly so glad you took part in this little challenge! Could I add this wonderful story to the masterlist? 💕

#one piece of summer #summer writing challenge #heat #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x reader #female reader #submission #deathlikesdeep-dish

[takerfoxx]

Blood Island, Chapter 1

Contrary to popular belief, dying is actually quite easy. It’s everything that leads up to it that’s a load of piss.

Take, for example, being thrown off the side off a merchant’s ship into the sea while besieged by a tropical hurricane. There’s the terror as you fly through the air, limbs flailing and raging winds tearing at your clothes as the roiling waves rush up to meet you. Then your body slams into the water hard enough to drive the air from your lungs in big, fat bubbles. You find yourself sinking into a void of grey, the salt water stinging your eyes as you stare up at the rapidly retreating surface, the cold and shock keeping your arms and legs from fighting back.

Then realization hits, and shock is replaced by pure terror. Though you know that it’s hopeless, that you’re all alone miles from land with your only point of safety swiftly fleeing, you still frantically kick with your numbing legs and pump your arms, desperate for air. The surface stops moving away, but you’re approaching too slow, and already it feels as if your chest is caving in on itself, squeezing the life from your lungs.

Then your head breaks through, the watery blanket replaced by the torrent coming down in hammer-blows. But your relief is short-lived, because as soon as you open your mouth to gulp down your first lungful of air a wave runs you over, sending you spinning back down.

Now your lungs are screaming. You had accidentally swallowed some of the seawater, and you cough violently, sending more bubbles billowing away. Again you force your way back up. You try to inhale, but all the coughing is getting in the way, and the rising and falling of the sea makes keeping afloat nearly impossible.

As you struggle to keep your head above the waves, your manage to blink enough water from your eyes to catch sight of the ship, barely more than a silhouette in the dark. You panic and start waving your arms, praying that someone on board would take pity on you, that one of the sailors will throw out a rope or maybe even dive in to save you. After all, some had protested throwing you in. Surely they wouldn’t leave you to die.

But either they don’t see you or they don’t care, as the ship now has its back to you as the pounding wind pulls it away further and further. You stare in disbelief as your last hope withers and dies. This can’t be happening. After everything you had endured and survived, it can’t end here like this, abandoned to die alone and forgotten in the middle of the Caribbean.

And then, as you watch your only chance of salvation leave you to your fate, another wave, larger than any other, swells up behind you. Before you know what’s happening it swallows you up and sends you tumbling head-over-heels back down below.

Again you try to fight it, try to force yourself back to the surface, but you now have no idea where the surface even is. Everything around you is dark and endless.

You whirl around to try to find some clue of where to go, some part with just enough light to indicate the way up. You find it, but as you reorient yourself you find your limbs strangely unresponsive. Again and again you order them into motion, but your body and mind no longer share the will to live. What’s the point of fighting, your body reasons, if there’s nothing out there to fight towards?

And in a terrible moment of clarity, you realize that you don’t have an answer.

Then both body and mind start to sink, one descending into the black of the sea while the other is enveloped by an entirely different type of darkness. The further you fall, the easier it becomes, and soon your mind concedes the argument and surrenders itself.

This isn’t so bad, you find yourself thinking while you’re still able. At least it won’t hurt anymore.

Anyway, to make a long story short, that last part really isn’t as terrible as it’s made out to be. But everything leading up to it is pure misery.

But there’s another part that most people don’t get to experience, so it’s often left out of the poems and tales: just how hard and painful waking up again from all that is.

Nuriel Cunningham found that out in stages that played out in reverse from before. First was the uneasy border between restful darkness and consciousness. Despite how valiantly she had fought off the darkness of oblivion before, she now found herself reluctant to leave it. She had already succumbed to its cold, comforting embrace, so she ought to be allowed to remain.

But now it was the light calling to her, and it turns out to be just as relentless as the darkness had been before.

Piss off, she thought sleepily. I’m dead. Leave me be.

But just as she hadn’t wanted to be thrown off that boat and hadn’t wanted to be swallowed by the sea, her wishes were continued to be ignore. Slowly and surely awareness seeped back into her body. It began a faraway blob of sound that steadily grew louder and more distinct, until she was able to recognize the sound of waves gently crashing against a shore mixed in with the calls of seabirds.

She then became aware that one side of her body was lying against something soft and gritty, while the other felt curiously warm. The smell of salt fills her nostrils, further dragging her back to reality.

It was then that she started to consider the possibility that she might not be dead.

Damn it.

Her eyes were still closed, but there was enough light shining through her eyelids to tell her that it was currently daytime…ish. Still, she was in no hurry to open them. Where she was and whatever it was that had brought her there could wait.

But then she became aware of yet another sensation, one that wasn’t at all familiar. Something was tickling her face around the nose and upper lip, like someone was brushing her with a cattail, and for whatever reason felt like chittering while it did it. She frowned and her face twitched, the only protest she felt like making.

Still, didn’t stop, and in fact was becoming kind of annoying. Finally irritation had drawn her far enough back to wakefulness for her to crack one eye open.

The immediate onslaught of sunlight made for a painful blur. She blinked and squinted. There did seem to be something nearby, something close to her face and-

The next thing Nuriel knew, she was wide awake and several feet off the ground, arms and legs thrown around the trunk of a palm tree like a terrified monkey, gaping down at the thing in the sand below.

The thing had turned out to be a great big hideous…bug…crab…thing. It looked like someone had combined all the worst parts of a cockroach and lobster together, resulting in something with a wide, flat back made of segmented parts, a great many legs, and two waving antennae, which had been the things tickling her face. And in addition to being hideous, it was just so damned big.

The nasty thing seemed to be perplexed by her sudden exit. It turned itself this way and that, antennae stretched to find some trace of her.

Well, Nuriel certainly wasn’t coming back down again while it was there. She looked around, wondering how the hell she was going to get rid of it.

Then her eyes fell upon a cluster of large, oblong husks hanging from the tree, right above her head. Coconuts. She had fled into a coconut tree.

Gripping the tree with her thighs, Nuriel reached up to grab a coconut. It took some twisting and yanking, but it came free. She then looked down at the monster, plotted the trajectory in her head, and let her missile fly.

It missed, landing with a plop in the sand next to the monster. A spray of sand fell over its back, causing it to jerk around in surprise.

Scowling, Nuriel yanked another coconut down and tried again. Another miss.

Now Nuriel was more frustrated than frightened, and hitting the damned thing was becoming a matter of pride. She wrenched a third coconut free and threw it down.

This time it hit. The coconut bounced off the monster’s back and sent it skittering away. Nuriel watched as it fled the beach to disappear into the sea. She smiled. Good enough.

Her relief was short-lived though, as she then came to realize that she was higher up than she was really comfortable with, and now that the strength that her panic had given her was wearing off, her ordeal had left her exhausted, and scaring that thing off had taken what little she had left.

She fell.

She didn’t remember actually landing, but sometime later the world decided to give her a break and stop swimming around her. When it did, she was lying on her back in the sand, staring up at the tree.

Though she had regained her senses, Nuriel remained still, listening to the sound of the ocean. She didn’t feel hurt, but that in itself didn’t mean much. She had seen enough sailors fall from the masts to know that it sometimes took time for the pain to register, and for all she knew her body was broken to pieces.

Still, though she ached a bit, the agony never came. Finally Nuriel tried to lever herself up into a sitting position.

She was still a little woozy, but still she managed to get up without much trouble. A quick self-assessment confirmed that, yes, she was unhurt.

With a slow exhale of relief, Nuriel stretched out her legs and reclined back, elbows in the sand. Wow, that had been a bit of luck. Though to be honest, the fact that she was falling out of trees in the first place instead of having her bones picked clean by jellyfish was in itself quite a bit of luck as well. Hopefully she hadn’t exhausted her quota.

Shaking her head, Nuriel finally was able to take stock of her surroundings. The best she could tell, she was on a small beach that curved around a bay. Across the water she could see two massive cliff walls wrapped around the bay’s other end, with a small gap in the middle leading out to sea.

Nuriel let out a low whistle. She didn’t have a clue how she had gotten from the depths to the beach, but if it had been chance, then her luck had been greater than she had thought if she had been washed right through the gap instead of being smashed against those walls of stone.

Then she turned in her seat to get a look at what was behind her. A wall of green greeted her, a thick and lush jungle. She wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. She still didn’t know if she was on an island or the mainland, but if it was an island than a jungle meant that there would be food for her to find. However, it also meant that just about anything could come at her through it, and she’d never see it coming until it had her: panthers, leopards, ocelots, even howler monkeys if they were feeling nasty enough. And that was to say nothing of the chittering bugs coming for her from the sea…

Nuriel shivered, but she banished those thoughts from her mind. No, she was alive, and that was a miracle in itself. She wasn’t going to dwell on death.

Though speaking of which, exactly how was she alive to begin with? Nuriel frowned. All of her memories from before she had woken up weren’t exactly clear.

She remembered being thrown into the sea; that probably wasn’t going to dim in her mind anytime soon. And she vividly remembered her struggles to keep her head above water. But between then and waking up was nothing.

Nuriel pressed a hand against her forehead and slowly breathed in and out. Her fingers were starting to shake. She was no stranger to having her life threatened, and this had not been the first time that another human being had tried to take it. But none of them had gotten that close before. And it had been years since she had been specifically singled out like that. The last time had been when she was still a scrawny little child, when Papa had-

Then her eyes popped wide open as the air caught in her throat. Papa!

She hastily drew her legs up. Her boots were still there, somehow having been prevented from being torn off during her struggles. And hidden in a small sheathe inside her left boot…

Nuriel felt a surge of relief when her fingers closed around the band of gold that enclosed the slim ivory handle. She pulled out St. George from where she had him hidden and turned him over in her hands, letting the sun glint off the steel and gold.

St. George was a knife: small, easy to hide, but wickedly sharp. The handle was carved from an elephant’s tusk into the shape of a dragon’s head, with two tiny rubies set into the eyes. A golden band was set around the grip. Papa had, as Nuriel’s insistence, named it after St. George the great knight from the stories he had told her, renowned for his slaying of dragons and rescuing of maidens. The name had been a bit of irony on her part. Papa had thought that it was the knight that had enraptured her, but to be honest, she had always like the dragons best. After all, they were just acting in accordance to their natures. Most of the time they merely minded their own business, sleeping away in their great caves. And even those known for terrorizing villages and hamlets only did so because they were hungry. In her mind, if St. George was going to go around stealing away their lives and treasures, then it was only fitting that her dragon would take his name in return.

Nuriel still wasn’t sure how Papa had come across such a beauty, but she had her suspicions. He always had a knack of relieving those more fortunate than them of easily missed valuables. Then it was off to the type of shops that their kind never thought to visit, and they would leave with enough coins to feed themselves for the next few days, maybe even to buy a new coat or pair of shoes.

But St. George was different. From the moment he had shown it off to her Nuriel knew that it was to be theirs, and had begged him not to let it go. He had been hesitant. After all, it was one of the best acquisitions he had ever gotten his hands on, and would fill their bellies with better fare than they had to make due with. But in the end he had relented, though he had warned her to keep it hidden and never, ever let anyone see it, lest they themselves be targeted by thieves.

This she had done, and was glad for it. Now, nearly seven years later, it was all that she had left of him.

St. George looked to have survived the sea without damage, though she would have to be on the watch for rust spots. She wiped away what bits of moisture remained and looked around again. By her estimation, it was early afternoon.

It was then that she finally noticed just how hungry she was, as well as how parched her throat was.

Licking her lips, she stood up and warily examined the green wall of the jungle. There was a break in the trees, and what looked like a path beaten into the jungle itself. It didn’t seem to have been made by man, so it was probably due to some large animal.

Nuriel frowned. She was not in much of a hurry to take her chances. If said large animal was unfriendly, then it wouldn’t take kindly to her using its path. And there were any number of other things that would be more than happy to gulp her up.

Still, she needed food, and that was her best chance of finding it. Hopefully she would have to go far before coming across a fruit tree, or some wild tubers, or-

Then her eyes went wide. Wait a minute, she didn’t need to go looking for food! She had just been up a damned coconut tree!

The tree in question still towered over her, and still bore several of its ugly brown husks. There were a few others dotting the beach here and there, but this one seemed to be the one she had the best chance of climbing. After all, she had gotten up it once before, even if she no longer remembered the actual act.

Though now that she was examining closely, how had she gotten up it so quickly? Yes, it sat at a slant, but not a very sharp one, and while the rough rings of its trunk provided hand-and-footholds, they weren’t exactly a ladder. In fact, they barely protruded much at all.

Well, if she had gotten up there once before while in a blind panic, she could do it again. Nuriel spat in her palms, rubbed them together, and set to work.

She got about maybe a fifth of the way up before her fingers gave way and she slid back down.

Scowling in annoyance, she tried again. This time she barely cleared the ground.

A third time! This time she did much better, actually making it more than a third of the distance before she slipped and fell hard on her ass.

Nuriel stood up, wiped off her bottom, and glared up at the tree, which seemed to be mocking her with how un-climbed it was. She kicked it. Stupid thing. It had let her up once before, so why was it now being so stubborn?

Plopping down in the sand with her legs crossed, Nuriel moodily stared out at the ocean as she considered her options. She needed food, there was food right above her head, and so she had to get to it. She had gotten to it once before, so it obviously wasn’t impossible, but for whatever reason that didn’t seem to be happening anymore.

Nuriel sighed. She looked down, where one of the coconuts she had used to pelt the sea-bug with was lying. She reached out with a finger and nudged it back and forth. Of course when she wasn’t even thinking about food she was able to pluck down as many as she wanted, but when she actually needed to-

Then Nuriel blinked.

Waaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiit a minute.

Moments later Nuriel was feeling profoundly relieved and incredibly stupid as she had the coconut resting in her lap. After this was over she was going to take a good, long nap. Maybe then her brain would have rested enough to actually turn on.

Nuriel attacked the thick fibers of the coconut’s husk with her hands, but to her frustration they refused to come loose. She tried biting them off, but just got a sore jaw for her troubles.

The coconut remained as protected as ever. Nuriel rolled it back and forth in her lap. She rubbed her jaw. She scratched her head. There had to be some way to get in.

Then she glanced back up. All around the beach were several clusters of white rocks, worn smooth by the elements. Hmmm.

Nuriel walked over one particular long and flat stone. She laid the coconut on it and searched around until she found a large and heavy rock with enough of an edge. Then she knelt before the coconut, lifted her rock up high with both hands, and brought the sharp edge down.

The first two whacks did absolutely nothing except bend the fibers in a little. The third slipped across the coconut’s body and sent it tumbling across the sand.

As for the rock, it struck the stone slab and a large portion of the edge snapped off.

Nuriel stared down at the two pieces of rock, one in her hands and the other lying next to her knees. She felt her throat start to tighten. As setbacks went, this wasn’t that much of one, but she was having a really, really bad day.

Still, she didn’t let herself cry. Survivors didn’t cry. Survivors didn’t feel sorry for themselves. Survivors used frustration and failure as motivation to find a way to succeed.

Close your eyes, her father’s voice echoed inside her head. Let the anger and pain flow through you without damming it up. Then look at the problem again. Quite often, the solution is right in front of you.

So she did just that. She closed her eyes and slowly breathed in and out, releasing a little more of her anger with every breath. She concentrated on the sound of the waves and the cry of the gulls. Soon the shaking stopped and her throat started to loosen.

When she opened her eyes again, she was no less hungry and thirsty, but she did feel a little bit better.

Propping her chin on her fist, Nuriel nudged the smugly unopened coconut with her finger. Maybe St. George could…but no. If her teeth couldn’t rip away the husk, then she wasn’t going to risk blunting her most precious treasure. But the rocks though…

Frowning, she stood up and looked from the coconut to the rocks. Okay, so she probably wasn’t going to be able to cut off the husk, but maybe she could get it off another way.

Picking up the coconut once again, she looked around until she found a gap between two large rocks that was the right size. She jammed it in, this time right-side-up instead of on its side. Then she found another large rock that was more blunt than sharp.

It took a few bashes, but each once crushed the husk a little bit more. Soon the fibers started to separate. Excited by her success, she yanked the coconut out of the gap, sat down with it braced by her legs, and kept smashing it.

Soon the fibers had been separated enough that she was able to stick her fingers in and pull them the rest of the way apart. It took some work, but soon she managed to get her fingers around the hard, brown nut inside and pull it out.

Nuriel grinned. She felt like St. George himself, pulling out the heart of a slain dragon.

Okay, now that had been taken care of, it was time for the sharp rock again.

Whack. Whack. Whack.

Nuriel hammered down on the coconut. Almost there, almost there.

Whack. Whack. Crunch.

Nuriel froze as the hand holding the coconut steady was flooded with fluid. She had managed to break the coconut open, but unfortunately she had forgotten to devise a way to save the milk, which was now pouring out onto the rocks.

She quickly opened the coconut into its two halves. There was very little of the milk still collected in each, but she still gulped it down like fine wine. Her eyelids fluttered as she did so. Oh, it felt so lovely going down. Nuriel drank it down and licked what she could get off of her arm.

Now it was time for St. George to do his duty. She pulled him out and used him to cut and pry off chunks of the coconut’s starchy white flesh. It wasn’t much, but if one were to see the way she crammed them into her mouth one might excused for thinking them delicious, not that she’d know.

Once the shells had been scraped dry, she grabbed up another coconut and repeated the process, this time taking care to only crack off a small bit at the top rather than split it in half. This time she was able to save most of the milk, and by the time she had finished off all three coconuts she felt much better.

Now that she had taken the edge of her hunger and thirst, Nuriel was able to sit back and look out at the sea and consider her situation.

It had been her fault, at least in part. She had known that she had been getting too old to play the part of the silent cabin boy, no matter how short she cut her hair or how tightly she bound her breasts. She had gotten stupid, thinking she could play the same trick over and over, that nobody would notice. If Father were still around, he would have boxed her ears for having dropped her guard. The last voyage had earned her several sidelong looks from the crew, as well as more than one suspicious inquiry that might have turned to disaster had someone less curious about her sex but more invested in keeping the peace not stepped in to intervene.

She had hoped that that would have been the end of it, but then the storm had hit. It had hit and it had kept hitting, assailing the ship for days on end. More than one man was swept overboard, and in time, even the doughtiest sailor began to fear.

And with fear had come panic, and with panic came the willingness to blame anything and anyone for their predicament.

Which had ended up being her.

Nuriel had been sensing the danger that she had been in for quite some time when they came for her. Of course the storm had scared her as much as any of them, but things had taken a swift turn for the worst when she had noticed the looks she had been starting to get and the mumbled conversations that were taking place around her. And when those conversations had stopped being mumbled and looks stopped wavering when she returned them was when she knew how much danger she was in.

She had tried to hide, of course. She had sailed in ships of the same make in the past and knew where all the best hiding spots were, but it did her no good. If she had still be small, she might have made it, might had managed to fit in a tight, out-of-the-way hole to ride the storm out and hope that tempers would have been quelled along with it. Alas, she had kept up her game longer than she should have, and could no only fit in a few.

They had come for her, just like she had always feared. They had come for her. They had found her. They had seized her and pulled her kicking and shrieking up onto the deck, into the fury of the storm.

From there, while two men held onto her arms and another her neck, her trousers had been yanked down, exposing her sex for all to see. That had been it. In calmer times, the more levelheaded might have come to her defense still. Some might had even laughed it off and made jokes, while the officers would have settled for simply locking her in the brig for the rest of the trip and dropping her off at the first port of call.

Those had not been calmer times. They had turned on her. All of them, even the ones that had stood up for her in the past, even the ones who had taken a liking to her, who had told her stories, who had snuck her rum at mealtimes and stood up for her when the others had gotten suspicious. They all turned on her, they all betrayed her. Every last one of them.

And when she had been lifted up by her throat, kicking and helpless, and thrown into the sea, no one had tried to stop it from happening.

Nuriel gazed balefully out to sea. Well, they had failed. She had survived. And somewhere out there were the men who had betrayed her, who had tried to murder her.

She wondered if the ship had pulled through the storm intact, if the men who had done this to her had also survived. She wondered if any of them felt remorse.

She hoped to find them again one day, after she had escaped this island. Then they could try to justify to her what they had done. Maybe they would even ask for forgiveness. She would enjoy that.

But first she would have to leave the island, wherever it happened to be.

The ship had been far from the mainland, so it stood to reason that she was on one of the many islands that dotted the area. Exactly how, she didn’t know. The last thing she remembered was sinking into the dark depths, and there certainly hadn’t been any land in sight.

Maybe something had picked her up and carried her? She had heard stories of shipwrecked sailors being brought to land by dolphins. But those had always been near the shores, and she had to have sunk deep.

She sighed. Well, maybe the merfolk had found her and brought her to safety! It made about as much sense as anything else.

Well, if she was on an island, then that could be a problem. Infinitely preferable to ending up as a drowned corpse to be picked clean by sharks or what have you, but that did mean that she was all alone, left to fend for herself with little hope of escape. There was the odd island that had things like settlements, forts, and plantations, but those were few and far between and tended to be closer to the mainland. This far out, the best she could hope for was a smuggler’s hideaway, and it was very unlikely that they would be sympathetic to her plight.

Nuriel swallowed. She had heard stories of the dark horrors that dwelt on the unexplored islands far out to sea: stories of savage tribes that dined upon human flesh, stories of wild animals unused to man and unwilling to tolerate having their territories trespassed upon, stories of hordes of insects that could pick a man’s bones clean in seconds, stories of giant plants with thorns that dripped with venom or flesh-hungry flowers that would trap any unwary passerby and dissolve their bodies in their acidic sap, stories of lonesome ghosts that would rip your soul from your body just to have a bit of companionship, stories of lumbering monsters that could swallow a lion whole.

She cast a dubious look at the thick jungle behind her. It looked like it could be holding any one of those horrors, or even all of them at once. There was a sizeable break in the trees that seemed to open to a path, which could mean any number of things. It could mean that she had been lucky enough to wash up somewhere with actual civilization and there was a township just down the road, but it could just as easily mean that cannibalistic marauders would be descending out of the jungle at any minute to skewer her on a spear and carry her off to be spit-roasted.

She shivered and quickly looked away. Now that was a line of thought that she didn’t care to entertain.

Still, regardless of where she was, the rules were still the same, even if the details had changed.

Learn all you can.

Don’t get caught.

Don’t get stupid.

Survive by any means necessary.

Nuriel yawned. Now that she at least had some food in her belly, everything was starting to catch up with her. Her eyelids were growing heavier with every blink, and those were happening with greater frequency. Her mouth split open with a cavernous yawn.

She violently shook her head. No, she couldn’t afford to drift off now. She was still out in the open, exposed to the elements and who knew what else. She had to find someplace safe, somewhere that the chittering water bugs couldn’t find her, maybe put some kind of shelter together, a lean-to at the very least, then she could…

Her eyes closed of their own accord.

When they opened again, she was still slumping up against the tree, looking out at the bay. However, the sun had fully set, the sky above was jet-black, and the stars were out and twinkling.

Nuriel abruptly sat straight up. How long had she been out? She hadn’t meant to drift off like that! Anything could have happened to her while she had been sleeping! Those bugs could have crawled back out of the sea and starting nibbling on her toes, jaguars could have come out of the jungle to gnaw on her guts, smugglers could have found her and carried her off for God alone knew what, or she could have-

Wait.

Why was the bay glowing?

Someone golden and glowing was creeping into the bay beneath the water, illuminating the surface. It slinked around the towering stone walls and started to make its way toward the shore.

Nuriel leapt her feet, her heartbeat hammering away in her ears like a warning drum.

The golden glow slowed to a stop right behind where the small waves rose up. From her vantage point Nuriel could see something gauzy and flowing in the light.

Suddenly the light went out, but the shapes remained, now as hazy shadows.

And then a face emerged from the water.

It was humanoid, but clearly not human. It looked like a young girl, one framed with silken black hair that seemed to melt into the water that hung in wet strands around a dark blue, heart-shaped face. Three dark stripes slashed across the bride of its nose, and its eyes glowed bright green.

The sea-creature locked eyes with Nuriel, and it smiled.

Its teeth were as sharp as a shark’s.

That did it. Nuriel turned and fled the beach, running through the break in the trees to be swallowed up by the jungle.

#my writing #blood island #vampires #pirates #dinosaurs #mermaids #original fiction

[anubislover]

Not So Easily Replaced

(Ikkaku is pissed at how idiotic her crew has been while on Amazon Lily, so she does what she's always done - vents about it to Law to let off some steam. Unfortunately, when an argument breaks out between them, she's left to wonder if she's really appreciated by her nakama)

“Ugh!” Ikkaku growled, stomping into Law’s office with his second afternoon coffee and a selection of onigiri on a tray. Normally lunch delivery wasn’t her job, but since all the men had been “too busy” fawning over the women of Amazon Lily outside, the menial task had fallen to her; otherwise their workaholic captain wouldn’t eat. “I swear, Boss, if we don’t set sail soon, I’m going to strangle every guy on board!”

“Hmmm,” Law grunted absently as he poured over his notes. Ikkaku didn’t hold his monosyllabic response against him—he’d spent the past few days fixing up that Straw Hat kid and the Fishman. On top of that, the extensive treatments had basically depleted their medical supplies, Straw Hat’s freak-out upon waking up had wrecked more than half the operatory, and the Kuja had been pretty stingy with letting them replenish their food and water from the island, so she was sure he had plenty on his mind. The dark bags under his eyes attested to that.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to vent, though. Honestly, if she didn’t, she’d probably snap and end up going on a killing spree or something. Only Bepo and Law would be spared; the Mink had no interest in human women and thus hadn’t been an obnoxious Neanderthal, and Law had been too focused on keeping his patients and crew alive to drool over Boa Hancock.

Hell, when her captain was like this, Ikkaku could literally say anything and he wouldn’t even register it. It took a lot to snap Law out of his thoughts, and he’d never really seemed to mind when she ranted at him to let off steam. Mainly because once she was done, she was usually calm enough to take care of the situation herself, leaving Law in peace and with a non-murdered crew. A happy engineer made for a happy submarine, after all.

Setting the coffee and onigiri down onto the desk, Ikkaku continued, “They act like they’ve never seen a hot chick in their lives. I mean, what am I, chopped liver? They should be thanking the gods that they get to look at my gorgeous face every damn day!” The statement was accompanied by a dramatic toss of her curly hair. When Ikkaku felt strongly about something, she tended to gesticulate a lot, and this was no exception.

“Uh huh.”

She leaned against the edge of Law’s desk, hands waving about as she ranted. “Not that I want them to start lusting after me, but it hurts a girl’s pride, ya know? They could at least acknowledge what a hot piece of ass I am instead of acting like I’m some ugly hag.” She clenched her fist as she recalled how, just that morning, Shachi and Clione had basically given a lecture to the whole crew over breakfast about the superior physique the Kuja displayed compared to the average woman. There had been charts and everything, and to her dismay the silhouette for the “average” woman looked suspiciously like her.

“And that’s not the end of it!” she rambled on, smacking her hand against the desk for emphasis. “When I’m not ignored or insulted, they try to convince me to go out into the jungle to talk to the Kuja for them! I mean, I’m probably the one least likely to be killed outright, but it’s not guaranteed! They might fill me with arrows just for being affiliated with men! Are they really willing to risk my life like that?”

Her question didn’t get an answer—not because Law wasn’t paying attention, but because at that moment, her emotive gesticulating accidentally smacked her wrist into his coffee mug, knocking it over.

“Mother fucker!” Law shouted, scalding coffee spilling all over his crotch and papers.

“Oh my god, Law, I’m so sorry—”

“Will you shut up?!” he snapped, grabbing his nearby lab coat to frantically soak up the scalding coffee that had spilled across his crotch. “Don’t just stand there—get some towels!”

Nodding mutely, she ran to the en-suite bathroom and snatched up every towel she could find in the cupboard. “Here,” she said, trying to hand them to him so he could clean himself up.

“My desk, damn it! Save my notes!”

Immediately she swept the pile furthest from the spill to the floor and began patting down the desk, but she knew it was already too late; the coffee had completely soaked through several of the papers that had been strewn across the stainless steel surface.

“Law, really, I’m so sorry!” she apologized hoarsely, flinching as he turned the full force of his sleep-deprived glare upon her.

“Maybe if you’d fucking been watching what you were doing instead of ranting on and on, none of this would have happened!” he shouted, well and truly pissed. Not that she blamed him—a week’s worth of important medical and inventory notes was now a brown, sopping mess. On top of that, first-degree crotch burns would sour anyone’s mood, especially when they were only running on an average of three hours of sleep.

“It’ll be ok,” she assured, assessing the damage. To an average person, the mess was a disaster, but while the charts and notes that had been in the immediate spill zone were soaked through and ruined, many of the others could be salvaged thanks to Law’s powers. “Just Room the coffee out of the papers—”

“Do you have any idea how much time and effort you just flushed down the toilet?” he snapped, even as the familiar blue bubble filled the office. Drops of coffee were pulled from the sheets of paper like magic, but to Ikkaku’s dismay, much of the ink left behind was still smudged beyond recognition. “You’re lucky that wasn’t Mugiwara-ya’s medical file you just destroyed!”

“Law, really, I’m sorry,” she said, trying to calm him down. Her usually chill captain was far more volatile when stressed and sleep-deprived. “It was a stupid accident on my part. I’ll help you rewrite all of this.”

“Hell no,” he growled, gold eyes narrowing furiously, the tendons in his thin neck tightening as he ground his teeth together. “The last thing I need is you going on another stupid rant and ruining my notes again. Get the fuck out—I’ve got more important things to do than listen to you bitch and moan about how the guys aren’t paying attention to you.”

“Tha—that’s not what I’m angry about at all!” she snapped.

“Then what is your fucking problem?!”

“My problem is that the guys were being jackasses and I’m not appreciated around here!”

“Well if you don’t like it, leave!”

Ikkaku’s back stiffened, each syllable cutting into her heart like Law’s sharpest scalpel. Those words…it was the exact same thing her old boss would say whenever she complained about her asshole coworkers’ creepy leers or “accidental” groping. The greasy old mechanic was a sexist pig, but still the only one in that shit port that had been willing to take her on as an apprentice. It had always been an unspoken threat—if she left, no one else would hire her, so she could kiss her dreams of becoming a world-class engineer good-bye.

Trafalgar Law had changed that with his offer to join the Heart Pirates.

And now he was telling her to leave, too. To give up her dream, her nakama, and her home because she wasn’t willing to put up with a little sexism.

As if he could replace her in a heartbeat.

The thought hurt more than expected. She’d worked her ass off aboard the Polar Tang. For five years she’d toiled in the heart of the engine room, maintaining every little piece. She kept the gears turning, the motors humming, and the propellers running. Just from sound and the slightest vibrations through the ship, she knew exactly what was wrong with the engine at any given time.

Ikkaku had never asked for praise or recognition for her hard work—it was just her job. But she was as knowledgeable about the mechanisms of the submarine as Law was of the human body. She had always assumed he’d quietly acknowledged this fact and respected her for it.

Clearly, she’d been wrong.

She nearly screamed all this at him, but before she could open her mouth, the blue light of Law’s Room encased her, and in a blink, she was out in the hall, the cabin door slamming shut in her face.

Knowing better than to try and force her way back into his quarters, Ikkaku instead stormed down the steel hallway, fists clenched and muttering furiously to herself. Maybe she would leave. March right up to Boa Hancock and ask to join the Kuja. That would show them! She didn’t need Law, or the Tang, or men at all! She’d get along just fine without those jerks! Sure, Amazon Lily didn’t have any of the high-tech machinery she was used to, and working for a shichibukai wasn’t exactly something she was thrilled about, but at least they’d appreciate her, right? She had other skills—she was a hell of a tattoo artist, and was a damn fine shot, and could kickbox, and…

Her pace slowed as her heart forced her brain to accept the truth—she didn’t want to leave. She’d go crazy without machines and engines to work on. And sure, she was no slouch in a fight, but the Kuja were warrior women trained from birth. Ikkaku would look like a total weakling next to them.

And no matter how much the crew pissed her off, she wouldn’t trade her nakama for anything. Sure, they could be thoughtless jerks sometimes, but they could also be really sweet. Bepo may not have been much for girl talk, but he was always willing to lend an ear if she needed companionship. Her fellow engineers, Malamute and Skua, were dependable and shared her love of machines. Shachi was always down to help her pull a prank, and when he wasn’t drooling over the Kuja, Penguin could be counted on to talk her through her problems.

As for Law…by this point, he was more like her big brother than her actual brothers had been. They shared a similar devious sense of humor, was discreet about any feminine issues she might have that, as the ship’s doctor, he was forced to deal with, and he’d even played wingman for her a few times at the taverns they’d stopped in.

Had she just ruined all of that? Was Law just angry, or had this been coming for a long time? Law had threatened to fire her plenty of times in the past, usually in response to her back sassing him, but he’d never been serious about it. This time had been different—he’d been legitimately pissed at her. Maybe those teasing threats hadn’t been jokes, but subtle warnings, and her ruining all those papers had simply been the straw to break the camel’s back?

Ikkaku was deep in thought, mentally going over every encounter she’d had with Law with a fine-toothed comb, searching for any clue whether he seriously thought she should leave, when she quite literally bumped into Bepo.

The Mink took in her flushed, angry expression and asked, “Are you ok, Ikkaku?”

Oddly enough, it was that simple, gentle question that shattered her composure like a bullet through a bone, and without even thinking she buried her face in his soft fur and just broke down crying. “He told me to leave, Bepo,” she sobbed, scared and hurt and frustrated. For all the grief her crewmates had given her and all the dangerous positions being a pirate had put her in, Ikkaku loved being a Heart. Where would she go? She’d never find another ship like the Polar Tang. Another crew like the Heart Pirates. Another captain like Trafalgar Law.

Bepo, though shocked that the normally fiery and confident engineer was using his fur as a tissue, didn’t say anything—he just carefully rubbed her back and hoped that letting her treat him like a massive teddy bear would calm her down enough to explain what had happened.

XXX

“Ok, real talk—has anyone noticed anything…different about Ikkaku lately?” Penguin asked as he sat down to lunch.

“You’d have to actually see her to notice something,” Shachi replied, brow furrowing. He glanced over at Uni, raising an eyebrow behind his sunglasses. “You been giving her stealth lessons or something?”

Uni frowned behind his bandana. “No, but she’s definitely avoiding us. It’s been a week since we left Amazon Lily, and I can count the number of times I’ve seen her on one hand.”

“Same,” Ermine said as they finished molding Law’s onigiri into the perfect triangles the captain liked. “I actually thought we left her behind for a minute—nearly asked Jean Bart to turn the ship around to get her.”

Malamute rubbed his chin, mouth twisting in concern. “Nah, she’s here, but she’s mad at us about something—barely leaves the engine room most days, and she basically refuses to talk to me and Skua.”

His fellow engineer nodded. “We thought it might just be her time of the month, but that ended over a week ago according to the calendar.”

“You guys keep track of her menstrual cycles?” Clione asked, weirded out. The rest of the crew wore similar expressions of disbelief and disapproval.

“Out of self-preservation!” Skua shouted defensively. “We’re in a hot, confined space where she has easy access to heavy tools—of course we wanna know when we should have emergency placating chocolate on-hand!”

“We tried the chocolate anyway, though,” Malamute added. “She just…waved it away and kept working.”

The cook’s frown deepened at that bit of information. “Ikkaku never turns down chocolate,” Ermine said, “and she hasn’t shown up to lunch, dinner, or breakfast all week.”

“She’s been eating, though, right?” Penguin asked, concerned. He didn’t care how mad she was; it was no excuse to skip out on meals. It was bad enough Law was an insomniac that got most of his nutrients through coffee and onigiri. It would be a cold day in hell before he would stand for an anorexic engineer.

A large, white paw shyly raised in the air as Bepo interjected, “I’ve been bringing her meals so she doesn’t have to come by the galley. She’s…wanted some time to herself.” He dropped his head gloomily. “Sorry.”

“But she’s talked to you?”

“Ummm, a little bit,” he muttered, twiddling his claws. After she’d stopped crying, Ikkaku had spilled her guts about everything—her issues with the crew, her argument with Law, and why his words had affected her so badly. Though sympathetic, Bepo was certain Law hadn’t meant his thoughtless words—underneath his casual persona, he cared deeply about his crew and would never let any of them go for such a silly reason.

At first, Bepo’d tried to get her to go back and talk to the captain, but she’d shot that down quickly—with the mood Law had been in, it would do nothing but start another argument. The Mink had hoped that, now that they were sailing away from Amazon Lily and Law wouldn’t have to worry about Straw Hat’s injuries anymore, they’d both cool down and the whole thing would blow over.

Unfortunately, the past week had proven otherwise. Ikkaku had taken to hiding deep in the bowels of the ship, and Law had been so focused on redoing all those notes and charts that he hadn’t left his quarters in days. Bepo wasn’t a Mink who liked confrontation, and he certainly didn’t want to choose sides between his oldest friend and his favorite engineer, so he’d relegated himself to supplying food to both parties, hoping one of them would finally get tired of the oppressive silence and breach the topic.

As the crew frantically gathered around him, hoping to finally have an answer to the Mystery of the Missing Engineer, Bepo began to wonder if he should have just locked both humans in an empty room and made them talk it out.

Not that such a plan would have been very effective with Law’s powers, but it was better than nothing.

“Talk, Bepo,” Shachi growled, pulling a flashlight out of his pocket and shining it directly into the bear’s black eyes like he was in an interrogation room. “What’s up with Ikkaku?”

“Why’s she hiding from us?” Clione interjected.

“Why are you the only one she’s talking to?” added Jude.

“Is she pregnant and going through weird mood swings or something?” Skua asked loudly.

Bepo blanched at that last one. “No, she…she’s just kind of upset about…how you all acted on Amazon Lily.”

Exasperated, Ermine rolled their eyes. “What, was she jealous about all the attention we gave Hancock’s crew?”

“No, but…you guys were really insensitive. Like, that presentation—”

“It was a joke!” Shachi defended, though a guilty blush rose to his cheeks.

“And asking her to venture into the jungle to talk to the women for you—”

“Hey, she was the only one who they wouldn’t kill on-sight!” Jude sulked.

“And then she had to bring Law his lunch because you were all too busy staring at the Kuja.”

“Wow. Having to do that one menial task must have been such an inconvenience,” Malamute scoffed.

At the back of the grumbling crowd, Jean Bart awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. He hadn’t been on the crew long, so he didn’t really think it was his place to get involved, but he had the feeling Ikkaku had taken whatever had been said and done a little more personally than they thought. “Look, regardless of how we feel, we should all apologize to her. I mean, I don’t know her great, but does she usually give the silent treatment for this long?”

“Well, no,” Clione stated, looking a bit nervous. “Typically, she yells at us and smacks us around a bit, or maybe pulls some embarrassing prank, but she’s never quiet.”

“So, what’s this mean?”

“It means this is serious.” Penguin frowned at Bepo, who was looking around anxiously as if hoping to escape. “Ok, spill. You’re the only one she’s talked to, and you clearly have a better idea of what’s going on than we do. What’s Ikkaku really upset about?”

The Mink hung his head sorrowfully. “Sorry.”

“Damn it, don’t apologize! Just tell us!”

“It’s just…”

“Are you guys bullying Bepo again?” came a voice from the doorway. The crew turned to find Law strolling into the galley, looking thinner and more exhausted than usual, but he was at least out of his room and among the living.

Still shining his flashlight in Bepo’s face, Shachi yelled, “Captain! You gotta help us—Ikkaku’s basically been AWOL all week and won’t talk to anyone, and Bepo won’t tell us why!”

Law plopped into his chair and grabbed an onigiri, scoffing as he took a large bite. “She bitched at me for a while about how you all were being sexist pigs. Figured she would have gotten over it by now.”

“She complained to you about it?” Jean Bart asked, tilting his head.

“Yeah, and then she managed to spill hot coffee on my crotch and ruin the inventory list for the infirmary that I’d spent hours compiling.”

The crew unanimously gave a sympathy wince.

Taking another large bite of his lunch, Law continued, “We’ll be making port in a few days—she’ll come to her senses once she’s spent some time off the ship.”

“You…you want her to leave the ship?” Bepo asked, voice raising an octave in disbelief.

“Time apart will do us some good,” he replied with a shrug, activating his Room for a moment to remove the flashlight from Shachi’s hand.

“How…how much time?”

“Well, we’re not making port any longer than necessary. If she hasn’t gotten her shit together by then, that’s her problem.”

Bepo’s heart dropped into his stomach. What did Law mean “get her shit together”? Was he talking about packing her things? Was he really kicking her out over a silly argument over spilled coffee and ruined paperwork?

“Law!” the Mink shouted, jerking to his feet so quickly his knees knocked the table. “Please reconsider!”

Dark blue eyebrows rose at the normally soft-spoken navigator’s outburst. “There’s nothing to reconsider. Ikkaku’s a big girl—I agree that the sexism she faced was unacceptable, but she’s never had a problem handling that kind of shit herself.” His face twisted into a scowl. “And considering how I only just finished redoing all the work she destroyed, my tolerance for temper tantrums is at an all-time low.”

“She offered to help you rewrite it!” Bepo argued, slapping his paws down on the table. “Is some soggy paperwork worth losing your best engineer over?” Pausing, he glanced at Malamute and Skua. “Uh, no offense. Sorry.”

“None taken,” the duo said in unison, though their jaws dropped a second later as they registered the Mink’s words. “Wait, what?!”

“What do you mean ‘losing’ Ikkaku?” Penguin snapped, grabbing him by the orange collar of his boiler suit.

Shachi grabbed the flashlight again and climbed onto the table to shine it into Bepo’s face. “Talk, bear! Is Ikkaku quitting or something?”

“Because we won’t let her!” several of the crew shouted.

“Everybody calm down!” Law snapped, his deep voice silencing the rambunctious crew. “You all acted like idiots around the Kuja—I don’t blame her for being annoyed at you. But if your petty acts of sexism could drive her off that easily, she wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes at her old job. You’re blowing everything out of proportion.”

“You’re the one who told her to leave over a spilled cup of coffee!” Bepo angrily stated, only to immediately shrink back when he realized just who he’d yelled at. “Sorry.”

“Whoa, wait, Law, did you fire her?” Penguin asked, genuinely horrified as he numbly released Bepo’s collar. Of all the things that could have been bothering Ikkaku, that hadn’t even made his list. Sure, she could be tempestuous, but that had never bothered Law before—on the contrary, Penguin had always assumed his old friend liked trading snarky barbs with.

“I didn’t—why would I—I was just pissed because she spilled hot coffee all over crotch!” Law defended, even as he inwardly cringed at the way his entire crew had turned to glare at him judgmentally. Shachi had even turned the flashlight’s intense beam on him.

“But was that worth actually firing her over?”

“I didn’t fire her! Yeah, we argued, but I never said she was fired. At most, I told her to get the fuck out of my office.”

“That’s not all you said,” Bepo mumbled, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Flinty gold eyes narrowed at the sulking Mink. It was extremely out of character for Bepo to snap at or sass anyone—least of all Law. His brow furrowed as he thought back to his fight with Ikkaku—the memory was a bit hazy due to the lack of sleep he’d gotten. “Then what exactly did I say to her? What could have possibly been so bad that it could make her think I’m firing her?”

“You said…she told me…” Bepo took a deep breath. He hated scolding his captain, but he hated the idea of Ikkaku leaving even more, especially if this really was just a big misunderstanding. “You said to her ‘if you don’t like it, leave’.”

A sour taste worse than umeboshi filled his mouth as Law realized the full implications of what he’d said and done. He clearly remembered her old boss, a scowling, greasy man who’d shouted at her when she’d argued that she deserved to be respected as the talented engineer she was and not just seen as eye-candy.

If you don’t like it, leave, he’d sneered through crooked teeth as the other mechanics sniggered. Good luck finding anyone else willing to hire an inexperienced chick, though. Law could distinctly remember the hot surge of outrage he’d felt on the woman’s behalf; in less than ten minutes, she’d managed to identify what was wrong with the Tang’s engine and exactly how to fix it. Yet because she was the sole female in the shop—because she was a little bit different—she was overlooked and scorned, with her boss refusing to check for himself.

It had reminded Law a little too much of how quickly he’d been rejected from every hospital Cora-san had taken him to, the so-called “expert” doctors refusing to believe that Amber Lead was not contagious, or even examine the white patches across his skin.

And maybe—just maybe—the way her curly hair fanned out around her shoulders and down her back reminded him just a tiny bit of a certain black, feathered jacket.

Law hadn’t even bothered to consider whether or not the woman might want to become a pirate before he’d activated his Room and cut her boss to pieces. He’d then turned to Ikkaku, whose dark eyes had been wide with shock but not fear, and told her that if she could fix his engine as easily as she claimed, she was welcome to join his crew.

Now he stood to lose her due to his own sleep-deprived stupidity.

“…fuck.”

XXX

Down in the engine room, Ikkaku lay on her back underneath the ship’s engine, tightening the bolts that secured the freshly-cleaned cooling pipes. Since her argument with Law she’d basically spent every waking hour disassembling, repairing, and reassembling every piece she could. She trusted Skua and Malamute to take good care of the sub after she was gone, but the Polar Tang deserved nothing less than a thorough inspection and tune-up as thanks for carrying her so far.

She’d give the crew their own goodbye once they reached port. She hoped they were still too blinded by the hearts in their eyes to notice she’d been avoiding them. It wasn’t out of anger anymore; instead, she was scared she’d start blubbering. Admitting that Law had decided to toss her out on her ass was humiliating and heartbreaking, and she honestly wasn’t sure how the others would react. They could just as easily stage a mutiny as shrug it off as her overreacting.

Perhaps she was freaking out over nothing—Law hadn’t even left his room since their fight. Surely if he really wanted her gone, he could have marooned her back on Amazon Lily. Then again, he was a sadistic bastard; luring her into a false sense of security, then dumping her and her belongings onto the next port they landed on wouldn’t be entirely out of character. Or maybe her years of service had earned her enough mercy that he was willing to wait until they were at an island where Ikkaku could potentially find work instead of stranding her in the Calm Belt.

Whatever it was, she had every intention of confronting him about it after dinner. If this was all just a big misunderstanding, she planned to give him a good smack upside the head. If she was really fired, she wanted at least enough time to pack her things and say her proper goodbyes.

Until then, all she could do was stay busy to pass the time and hope that the knot of anxiety that twisted in her stomach would loosen up by the time she talked to him.

She didn’t want to leave, but if Law decided she was really that expendable, there wasn’t much she could do but try to hold onto at least a shred of dignity.

Reaching over to her tool kit, Ikkaku fished out her screwdriver, silently lamenting over the sad state of her tools. She’d planned on picking up some new ones back on Sabaody, but with all the chaos that had taken place, she’d missed her chance, and she wasn’t sure she could justify the cost now that her job was in jeopardy.

The sharp click clack of heeled boots against the metal floor startled her out of her thoughts. Glancing towards the sound, she immediately knew from the spotted jeans that filled her vision that, for better or for worse, the mystery of her termination was about to be solved.

She watched as Law turned around, and she knew from the barely-audible creek of the pipes that he had chosen to lean against them. Ikkaku had yelled at him for doing that more than a few times in the past, but this time she kept her mouth shut. Most likely he’d done it to provoke such a reaction out of her, but why? To break the viscous tension that filled the room by establishing a sense of normalcy, or so he’d have another cause to fire her?

Whatever his reason, Ikkaku refused to be the first to speak. Whether he wanted to kick her out or extend the olive branch, he’d have to make the first move.

After a few minutes of silence where Law merely stood there and Ikkaku continued to tighten the bolts, he finally sighed. “Penguin tells me that you haven’t been eating dinner with the crew,” Law’s low, nonchalant voice rumbled through the pipes.

If Penguin had to tell you, that says that you haven’t been eating with them, either, she thought sourly, though opted to stay quiet. She didn’t want to turn this into an argument if he intended to apologize. And if he planned to fire her…well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of riling her up.

Noting her unusual silence, he continued, “I understand their behavior has been…upsetting as of late. They were acting like idiots, but that’s no reason to isolate yourself.”

“Haven’t been isolating myself,” she lied, fiddling with a bolt she’d tightened ten minutes ago. “I’ve just had work to do. The Tang needed some maintenance, so I thought I’d get it done now that we weren’t being chased by Marines.”

“Sure. And the fact that Bepo’s been bringing you your meals this past week?”

“Going to the galley would have wasted time. Eating in here was more efficient, and Bepo offered.”

“Why didn’t you ask Skua and Malamute to help?”

“You doubtin’ my abilities as an engineer, Trafalgar?” she asked in a clipped tone, growing sick of tiptoeing around the point. “Whether you like it or not, I know how this ship works better than anyone. If you don’t trust me, tell them to get their asses in here and do it instead!”

There was a deep sigh from above her, and Ikkaku could easily picture the wrinkle between his eyebrows that formed when he was tired and frustrated. “Bepo told me you’re thinking of leaving.”

Ah. The moment of truth. Heart in her throat, she forced her herself to take a deep breath, ready for whatever judgement he saw fit to pass. “You’re the one who said I should if I didn’t like how I was being treated.”

“Are you?”

“Leaving or enjoying how I’m treated?”

“Leaving.”

“…I don’t want to.”

“Good.” It was subtle, but there was an unspoken “I wouldn’t have let you if you’d tried” in his tone. There was another long moment of silence before he continued, “Engineers as skilled as you are hard to come by—finding a replacement would have been a bitch. Plus, the crew would have been upset; they were practically interrogating poor Bepo about why you were avoiding them.”

“And of course you stepped in and played hero, rescuing the helpless Mink from an angry mob?” she snipped, tightening another screw. It didn’t sound like she was getting fired, so it was a little easier to let her natural sass creep back into her voice.

Law let out a faint tch above her. “I wouldn’t say ‘helpless’ considering how he then yelled at me about allegedly firing you. After that, the mob was on his side.”

A proud grin curled the corner of Ikkaku’s mouth. Who would have thought that Bepo would yell at his best friend for little old her? She’d have to come up with a nice thank you gift for her favorite shipmate. With luck, Law might actually apologize for his behavior if even Bepo was calling him out.

Of course, that might take a while, so it was best to keep busy. Reaching out her hand, Ikkaku felt around blindly for her socket wrench. She jerked slightly in surprise when she felt long fingers wrap around her hand before the tool in question was placed firmly in her palm. She pulled her arm back, only to stare wordlessly at the brand-new wrench that practically gleamed in the light.

Clumsily she slid out from under the pipes, jaw dropping as she found Law crouching beside a new, expensive, top-of-the-line tool kit. “I was saving this for your birthday but given the chance that you wouldn’t be around to receive it…” he trailed off, adjusting his hat so the brim cast a shadow over his face.

The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled, immediately recognizing the gift for the chrome apology that it was. Plus, it was hard to stay mad at Law when he was like this—honestly, it was so dang cute how awkward he was when forced to display actual human emotions like caring and guilt. “You bribing me to stay, Boss?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

She laughed, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him in for a hug. “Then I accept, along with a twenty-percent bonus on my next paycheck.”

He grumbled slightly but didn’t refuse, nor did he pull away from her embrace, even if he stubbornly refused to return it. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t technically said “sorry”. Actions spoke a hell of a lot louder than words with him, anyway, and Law was practically groveling for her to stay.

When she finally let him go, Law stood up and cleared his throat before nonchalantly strolling towards the door. “Well then, since you’re not leaving, unless the engine room is actively on fire and no one but you can put it out, you’re eating with the crew tonight. They’ll formally apologize for their behavior, and they’re all going out of their way to show you how much you’re appreciated. Ermine’s preparing your favorite meal. Clione and Shachi have put together a presentation detailing exactly how stupid they’ve been while Penguin has one extolling your virtues. Malamute and Skua have volunteered to take on your cleaning duties for the next two weeks.”

“What are you going to do?” Ikkaku teased, though he could have said “nothing” and she’d be fine—she knew he’d never make the mistake of discarding her again.

Law stopped at the door and threw his trademark cocky smirk over his shoulder. “Isn’t it obvious? I’ll be standing by your side all night to make sure you can’t run off when you realize just how obnoxiously sentimental those idiots can be.”

Ikkaku’s grin fell a bit as she realized he was right—the Hearts were an infamous band of pirates led by a fiendishly dangerous captain, but when it came to their nakama, they could get downright sappy in extreme circumstances. Jude was probably preparing some hippy-dippy song. Cousteau would inevitably name some weird sea creature after her. Seiuchi would probably find a way to scatter confetti all over the galley and she’d be picking it out of her hair for days…

Getting up, she chased after her devious captain. “I don’t suppose there’s still time for me to quit and join the Kuja, is there?”

Gold eyes glinted sadistically at her as Law replied, “Nope. Welcome to Appreciation Hell. Population: you. Don’t try to run, either—I’ll Shambles your ass into the galley if I have to.”

Ikkaku punched his arm in retaliation, though she was careful not to hit him too hard—if she annoyed him too much, he’d go out of his way to rile the guys up even more. God, he’d probably propose they all get tattoos of her face or something just to make her suffer.

“You’re an absolute bastard,” she said, affection creeping into her voice despite her best efforts.

“Yes, but a bastard that appreciates his engineer,” Law replied, and out of the corner of her eye, Ikkaku could have sworn she saw the barest hint of a genuine smile flicker across his face.

Despite the knowledge that she’d be stuck with a crew of idiots and a captain who had the emotional range of a teaspoon and a truly frightening sense of humor, Ikkaku felt happier than she had in weeks as she playfully knocked her shoulder into his. “I guess that’s not so bad, then.”

The End

#one piece #heart pirates #trafalgar law #trafalgar D. Water Law #one piece ikkaku #ikkaku one piece #ikkaku #one piece bepo #bepo one piece #bepo #shachi one piece #one piece shachi #shachi #penguin one piece #one piece penguin #penguin #op fanfiction #op fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #friendship #friendship fic #nakama #fanfiction #AO3 fanfic #ao3 #post-marineford #op canon #amazon lily #kuja pirates

[serararku]

Overture: Of Plight and Purpose

<Theme>

S'era swayed and bobbed in her saddle, clutching the reins of her chocobo like her life depended on it - because it did. The dust of Thanalan still gripped her coat and hair, as did the exhaustion of battle cling to her bones. She nearly fell from her chocobo more times than she could count, no longer aware of where she was truly going; the skin of spring water bouncing on her hip was long emptied and dried, and she wouldn’t make it much further without something to drink. Through dirty goggles she eventually looked up to witness her surroundings, now realizing she was no longer at the mercy of Azeyma’s most cherished champion - the sun.

The land surrounding her was dark and barren. What was once an endless blue sky stretching onward in all directions was now scorched and muddled with thick grey clouds, yet she knew it would be folly to hope for rain. Strange crystalline spires of pink and violet stretched from the sundered earth to reach toward the cloud ceiling, and there was this choking miasma in the air that made her feel dizzy and weak. This was no place for the living.

Yet she had searched nearly everywhere else for him. She started in her ancestral homelands of Thanalan to the south; through the streets of Ul’dah, across the sun-blasted drylands, and along the rolling dunes of the Sagolii Desert. Next she searched high and low on the island of La Noscea to the west, fending off against pirates and cutthroats in Limsa Lominsa and beyond its borders. When that proved fruitless she went east until she was lost in the wooden sea of the Black Shroud. Deep in the forest all she found was frustration and danger. Out of any other options, S’era decided to go north, as that was the only direction she had left to go.

She was close, she could feel it.

Kwehzimoto squawked and chirped anxiously, twisting his head to scan their surroundings before abruptly turning off the old beaten road. S'era had just enough time to slip the device back into her coat and tug at the reins before her chocobo broke into a sprint, leaping over crags and weaving through tight crevices. "Moto!" She squeaked, covering her face before the dead branches hanging overhead raked at her skin and eyes. She was blinded from the withered trees and fragile rocks jutting out from the walls snapping against her arms, barely able to stay in her saddle from Kwehzimoto weaving through the long dead thicket.

It wasn't until the unruly chocobo slowed down to a standstill did she open her eyes. Before her sat a great lake of shimmering blue water - a stark contrast to the otherwise barren and dusty hellscape she’s witnessed so far. And she wasted no time either; the sight of fresh water filled her with renewed vigor, giving her the strength to slide down the side of her chocobo’s saddle, pluck the water skin from her pack, and collapse to her knees at the edge of the lake. The water tasted awful, or at least it should have; her maddening thirst was just the seasoning she needed to happily drink to her heart’s content, shoving her face into the cool water to chug until she felt sick. Rehydrated and refreshed, S’era sat back and wiped her face, before reaching for the skin to fill that up too. Kwehzimoto stopped halfway through his own drinking to chirp angrily at S’era, before his tail feathers bristled. Was it an intruder? A dangerous wild animal? It was neither. 

It was a corpse. S’era squinted her eyes to see a body along the edge of the lake. Arrows were buried in his back, at least three or four. Garlean arrows. Given the track marks behind him, it was likely he was dragging himself through the dust before collapsing just short of reaching the water. Two ragged ears trembled under the dead wind. They were partially hidden beneath a tangled mess of hair clogged with dried blood and sand; without a doubt he was a Miqo’te like her.

“Azeyma guide him to your endless fields of eternal sunlight.” S’era sighed, rising to her feet to approach the corpse. If nothing else, he deserved a proper burial. She looked down at him with pity, wondering if he had anything worthwhile on his person before expiring; but the ragged clothes didn’t make him appear like anyone well traveled. She reached down and grabbed one of the arrows, deciding it best to pull them all out before she began digging a hole. The first one came out clean enough.

“Argh-!” The groan nearly caused her to leap right out of her skin!

"Oh gods! You're alive?!" S'era dropped the arrow in her grasp and fell to her knees beside him. Frantically she pulled him onto his side, revealing his grimacing face and dirt-caked lips. Another groan slipped through his clenched teeth- he was desperately clinging to life. She pulled off the cork of her water skin with her teeth and began pouring a thin but steady stream into his mouth. The stranger could barely move, let alone drink, but the taste of water was enough to stir him.

"Th...thaaugh.." he mumbled, before coughing. The man opened his bright yellow eyes and stared up at S’era; if it weren’t for his ragged breath, she could have sworn he died right then and there.

She gave him a gentle smile before placing her palm against his forehead. If he didn’t bleed out first, this fever would burn right through him. “You can’t stay here… I’m going to lift you onto my chocobo, okay? This will hurt.” The man didn’t move to object, his breath weak and steady when she gripped him by the arm to pull him out of the dirt.

Kwehzimoto chirped nervously when she strapped him to the saddle. As she tugged the reins to follow the road to the nearest town, she couldn't shake that old anxious feeling. S'era strained to look across the great dusty valley before her- toward the direction this man had crawled from. Smoke billowed along the horizon as the glare of the setting sun distorted the silhouettes of large spiraling towers pointing to the sky. "A castrum?!" She hissed, taking a tentative step closer; S'tage could be there, fighting for his life!

“Uugh…” The man wheezed again, his voice weaker than before. S’era knew he didn’t have much time; his chance of survival was dubious at best, but he would definitely die by the time she reached S’tage if she didn’t get him some medical help immediately. She looked to the smoke, then to the wounded man, then back to the smoke, unsure of what- or who- to pursue; all in all she was left with a difficult choice to make. And she lacked the time to think it through.

When next the man opened his bright yellow eyes, he was greeted not to ash, dust, and darkness, but to pale light and warmth. He was laying on his back, surrounded by silk sheets and white pillows, more comfortable now than he has been in well over a year- well over a decade, even. Above him shined a light so bright and blinding, he swore it was his people’s chosen deity herself; for who else but the Goddess of the Sun blind him so effortlessly? He was adrift- alone on a sea of white water, surrounded by the comforting warmth of his goddess Azeyma, and blinded as well as dumbstruck by the searing light dangling low overhead. “This is it.” He thought to himself, humbled by her approaching beauty. “This is the end.”

“Oh. Oh!” An unfamiliar voice squeaked. He heard the hard thud of feet before they scampered off into the distance, but it was far too bright to see anything past Azeyma’s light. Yet slowly, his eyes adjusted, and the longer he squinted, the more he came to realize how false his initial fever-dream truly was.

It wasn’t the afterlife at all. He blinked until he could make sense of his surroundings, finding himself not in the presence of the Warden Herself, but in some makeshift hospital bed. The divine light was but a lantern dangling over his bed, and the warm white water was in fact his own bedsheets. Discovering how alive he remained made him both disappointed and relieved, further impounded by the fact that he was obviously not in Garlean possession again. He moved to rise from his bed and sit up straight, but the agony in his back sapped what little strength he had left, forcing him to drop the back of his head onto the sunken pillow from whence it came.

Then the door swung open, and he half-expected a Garlean interrogator to waltz in. "Good morning!" A voice beamed in between labored breaths. A lalafell waddled into the room, glistening with sweat and out of breath. "Welcome back to the land of the living!"

"Where am I…? What… how long have…"

"You're in the Revenant's Toll, and you've been in and out of it for nearly two days." She answered as sweetly as she could, lifting up her cupped hands to reveal a crisp red apple. "Here… you must be hungry."

It was agony to move. Through his pained wince he noticed the arrows sitting on the nearby table, cleaned and displayed for him. He had a dozen more questions, true, but the mention of food highlighted how hungry he truly was. The lalafellin woman waddled to the edge of his bed and graciously handed over the fruit, before turning on a heel to jump up into the seat of the chair.

"You're really lucky she found you when she did." The woman beamed at him as he devoured the offering. "Men larger and healthier than you have died from far lesser injuries. I thought you would never open your eyes again." Her smile vanished when she leaned in. "I don't mean to rush you, but your rescuer has some urgent questions regarding your former peril. Shall I let her in?"

"Aye…" Was all he could manage to say. The little woman slid off the edge of the chair and waddled back to the door, arms swinging all the way out to help keep her balance. He couldn't help but smile at how lalafells walk around, but his subtle smile didn't last long; out from the hallway stepped in a familiar face he swore he had seen in a dream before.

Short hair as black as raven feathers. Soft fair skin peppered with freckles. Full lips cracked and dry from the desert heat. And a pair of big bright eyes, one the color of ice, the other blue and deep enough to drown in. He stared at her while she cautiously approached the side of his bed, awestruck and dumbfounded. It took a conscious effort to pick his jaw off his lap; she was the first real woman he had seen in years, after all.

"My name is S'era Rarku." He snapped out of his stupor at the sound of her voice, and the mention of her surname. It was a name he knew well. "May I have yours?"

Through an itchy throat and in between ragged breaths he answered. "K'thalen Tia, lass…"

"I don't want to disturb your rest any more than necessary, so I'll get straight to the point." S'era lowered herself into the nearby chair, her eyes fixated on him. "I'm looking for a Tia. He has pale silver hair and deep orange eyes. Does that sound familiar?"

K'thalen could hear the hopeless desperation she failed to hide in her voice, so he wasn't eager to give her the good- and bad- news. "There's only one Tia I know that matches your description. You must be talking about S'tage, aye?"

Like the floodgates swinging wide open, he noticed relief wash over her face and body. She slouched in her chair before running her hands through her hair, still seemingly in disbelief. "Thank Azeyma…! My long search is finally-! Is he alive?! D-do you know where he is?! I have so much to tell him!"

"He's alive, aye. But lass… I wouldn't celebrate so soon. Tage is being held prisoner by Garlean bastards. He's locked up tight in Castrum Aeternium."

The beaming smile and light in her eyes both vanished as quickly as they first arrived. "Then I need to rescue him and bring him home."

K'thalen watched her carefully. "Much easier said than done. Much easier. We're talking about Castrum Aeternium. A fortified fortress…! You couldn't hope to sneak past all those guards, and even if you did, dragging out a prisoner would be impossible!"

"I have to try." She responded, rising to her feet. "Get some rest… and thank you for the information and warning."

He couldn't bear the thought of her marching to her death. "Many tried to rescue their loved ones, lass. All failed. And if they capture you… they'll torture you until they discover who you meant to save. Then they'll execute them and make you take their place."

Her tail bristled, but her face remained a stone mask. "They won't take me alive. I'll fight my way in, and fight my way out."

"Fight your way out? By yourself?" He ignored the blistering pain shooting up his back when he reached out to gesture at the daggers fastened to her belt. "You think those cake cutters stand a chance against reinforced Garlean steel? You wouldn't even know where to go, lass. You would be wandering blind, until they found you."

"What else can I do? I can't leave him there to die. I won't!"

K'thalen stroked his chin, deep in thought. "He won't be going anywhere. They'll keep him alive as long as he doesn't try anything." He paused long enough to gauge her reaction. "You'll need training. Proper training, lass. And lots and lots of friends."

"I don't have friends…" S'era did her best to ignore how pathetic that sounded, choosing to move on to her next point sooner than later. "Where am I supposed to get training? And what weapon would help me against Garlean machines?"

K'thalen fell silent at first, seemingly lost in thought. "... I've seen a man slice through armor as thick as a door with a sword. But you would need to find a master to teach you how to do that… and unless you have double my weight in gil…"

The idea of leaving S’tage in chains when she was less than a few hours away from reuniting with him at last put a lump in her stomach; how could she turn back now when she was so close? Maybe she could sneak into this Castrum Aeternium, avoid all the guards and sentries, find him, free him, then… then…

“Thank you for the tip. I should be heading back to the free cities to look for a master, then.” S’era politely bowed before eyeing K’thalen closely. “I’m… afraid I used up the last of my gil to give you the care you need. I hope you recover quickly, K’thalen. Goodbye and good luck…”

“H-hold on, now…” He seemed reluctant to speak, and not just because it was painful. “That makes twice you saved my life, lass… take me with you back to the Black Shroud- if I can reconnect with my old job and acquaintances then we’ll have a roof over our head. Plus, I can draw you a map of the castrum once I’ve fully recovered.”

S’era’s eyes widened a bit while her ears perked up. “You would do all that? For me?”

Slowly a pained smile spread across his face. “I owe you my life. What sort of Tia could I call myself if I didn’t pay my debts?”

[second-chance-stray]

RP Log: Cravendy meets Lin! I think both of them have a terrible time.

Cravendy Hound woke up two days prior, and has spent those days awkwardly exploring the company while simultaneously avoiding all of its members. Finally, she understands what has happened in her absence...a very basic understanding, at least. The details are far too many to untangle at the moment.

Cravendy Hound has left a note on Lin’s door, inviting her to meet at one of the Lavender Bed islands. She waits on the bench absolutely terrified. Outwardly, this unintentionally translates into a menacing aura. Fists clenched, eyes dark, looking pissed off as hell.

Aislinn North It was a day with no work to be done. For most people, that would be a cause to celebrate. Right now, at this point in time, for Aislinn, it's a nightmare. Nyscera's people and Bertram, all of them had conspired against her. Sweeping the paperwork from her desk, aiding her in the clinic, leaving her with no escape. Work was the distraction used to keep her thoughts from looking back. Like a colorful toy you waved in front of a child to keep their attention where you wanted it. However, there was one piece of parchment left for her on her now far-too-clean desk. A note. She turned her head to the sound of approaching footsteps, the blood promptly draining from her face as she read it over. What in the Seven Hells was this? She fought back a litany of curses. No. She wasn't doing this today. She couldn't do this today. However, underneath the note was another's handwriting. Bertram had written something. And whatever he had penned had her out here, in the rain, making her way to this damned meeting. She caught sight of the familiar silhouette as she approached and immediately felt her throat go dry. As she drew closer, she realized the look was all wrong. The anger, the glaring eyes. Nothing about this....person was Wyda. She came to stand wordlessly just under the gazebo's shelter. She simply couldn't find anything to say.

Cravendy Hound similarly feels her heart sink when Lin steps into view. There is no plan, no eloquent speech prepared. Hells, she doesn’t even have a rough idea of what she wants to talk about. But she feels like she has to say something - anything - for both of their sakes. And yet, words fail her. The silence stretches between two of them like a widening fissure, and it feels unsurmountable. Gods, what was she thinking?

Cravendy Hound gets up. Why did she do that? Now she’s standing! She moves to sit back down, but wouldn’t that be more awkward? Cravendy freezes in a half-squat for a second until finally deciding to throw caution to the wind. Hells. She’s got the nerves of a kid on stage for the first time, but at least things can only get better...right?

Cravendy Hound strides over to Lin, grabs her shoulder, sits her down on a bench, and then takes a seat across from her. Okay, pieces in place. Things should happen now. Aaaanytime now. “.....................................”

(Aislinn North) ((Awww! OKay, this has me laughing! xD)) (Cravendy Hound) xD!! )) (Cravendy Hound) cravs has 0 braincells 0 plans. the apple doesn't fall far from the tree in many ways ))

Aislinn North eyes flared widely as Cravendy grabbed hold of her shoulders, clearly taking umbrage at being maneuvered into place by a person she knows is a total stranger. Unfortunately, her still-healing injuries leave her unable to swiftly move out of the way in time and she finds herself plopped on the nearby bench instead. "Nymeia's bloody britches." she muttered, returning the Seawolf's glare with one of her own. "Starting to think I might have been better off wandering another circle around the House." In all honesty, it's the most emotion she's displayed since the events of that horrible day.

Cravendy Hound: “Aye, you an’ me both. Suppose we got that in common? Not wantin' to be ‘ere. Today being a weird an’ unpleasant day.” Cravendy tries to laugh and her voice cracks from high to low. Twelve have mercy, her expressions are not fully her own yet. Her face reddens and her scowl only deepens. “M-mud an’ shite! Been more than a year since I last spoke, I promise I ain’t like this normally...”

Aislinn North "I'll have to take your word on that." came Aislinn's rapid fire retort. She had clearly reached 'Anger' along her trip through the five stages of grief. But even she can hear the bite in her words and knows they're misdirected. She looked away, out over the water as a war waged within her chest. Logically, what happened wasn't Cravendy's fault. It also wasn't Cravendy's fault she woke up. She just did. Logically, Aislinn knew all of this. She just didn't like it. "....It'll get easier, I'm sure." she finally, grudgingly allowed. That felt alright to say. That felt safe.

Cravendy Hound winces slightly, but the bite in Lin’s voice feels deserved. It isn’t as if she’s unaware of what has happened in the past year. In dreams you can become another on the flip of a dime...She’s in possession of memories that are both hers, and not hers. She shakes her head.

Cravendy Hound: “Don’t go easy on me. I know what happened. The mess I caused.” She  crosses her arms and...my god. She was never going to get used to how after waking up, she suddenly had the toned body of a fistfighter. God, everything is so weird. “...An’ I won’t go easy on ye. Ye look like shite, an’ ye look like ye can stand to get somethin’ off yer chest.

(Cravendy Hound) sleep is the most powerful workout xD )) (Aislinn North) ((God, I wish that were true! lol!))

Aislinn North shot the Seawolf a swift, dry look out of the corner of her eye. "You're looking for someone to unload on you, aren't you?" she shrewdly assessed. "Did you? Cause this mess? I mean, did you mean to summon..." her voice caught, stumbled over the word. "the primal?"

Cravendy Hound: “Personally, could do without. But when ye do somethin’ wrong, an’ ye don’t get what ye deserve then...well, I’d be wonderin’ whether or not I was still dreamin’.” Her jaw set, tight. To Lin’s second point, she found herself at a loss for words. Part of her wanted to absolve herself of guilt and claim it wasn’t her fault. A half-truth to make everyone feel better, and one that she knew would gnaw away at her heart like all of her other white lies. No...She literally died following this creed. She had to carry on differently, no matter how uncomfortable.

Cravendy Hound: “....It was unintentional. But what I did leadin’ up to it was my fault.”

Cravendy Hound: “Accident or not, I made a right mess of things. If hatin’ me will make ye feel better, then I’ll gladly bear it.” Hair fell in front of her face as she let out a short breath.

Aislinn North "How could I hate you? I don't *know* you." Aislinn replied. "And that's an awful lot of wasted energy, in my experience." She grew quiet as she mulled over Cravendy's words. For a long stretch the only sound was the rain drumming against the roof of the gazebo. She saw what she was trying to do. Get all the information and assemble it into something that made sense. That gave her answers. And what would answers do now? They wouldn't change the outcome. "You're right though...you did make a mess of things." she said with blunt honesty. "And we're all just going to have to learn to live with it. Not all of us are going to manage...*well*"

Cravendy Hound’s brows knitted together. She was partly relieved to hear that she wasn’t going to be immediately hated by Lin. Dream-friend or no, it was definitely something she could do without. But the other half of her was frustrated at the existence of yet another problem that she caused, that she couldn’t fix at once.

Cravendy Hound: “Maybe ye don’t know me, and maybe I don’t know ye, but whether ye like it or not, I’m ‘ere for you. Because...” Cravendy pauses. Because what? She feels selfish for saying anything at all. If her goal isn’t closure, then what is it? She doesn’t know, and it infuriates her. “...Just because.”

Cravendy Hound: “....................” It dawns on her that she hasn’t introduced herself. Shit, is it too late to bring it up now? She simmers in anxiety and, as usual, it comes across as looking like she’s about to fight something.

Aislinn North sat back sharply, caught up short. Clearly, she wasn't ready for that. She looked away. Her fingers tapped out a quick rhythm against her leg, her jaw squared. How many times did it take for her to learn this particular lesson? Cracking herself open again and again only to lose people. No. *This* time she would get it. *This* she'd learn. Upon glancing back at Cravendy, her dark musings fly from her. The woman looked like she wanted to punch something. Aislinn tensed. "Alright, there?" ...she asked uncertainly.

(Cravendy Hound) xD )) (Aislinn North) ((Lin's wondering if she's gonna have to dodge and roll xD))

Cravendy Hound narrows an eye as she reads Lin’s expression. Shit, looks like she’s closing up. But then again, what other outcome could she expect? Thrust herself in her life and expect immediate and full reconciliation? Of course not. Cravendy doesn’t know Lin either, and maybe never seeing each other would be the best path to take...but it feels wrong to see her like this. It just does.

Cravendy Hound: “It’s not alright! I...I wake up after tryin’ to end things and I guess things are better? But worse at the same time? I’m still where I was a year ago an...” She cuts off her outburst. Piss n’ wind, just another way to further alienate Lin. “‘SCUSE ME.”

Cravendy Hound gets up, dunks herself under the water and yells at the top of her lungs. When she comes back, she looks spent. “Should’ve said this at the beginnin’, but I’m Cravendy. And I’m...I’m just losing me mind! Haha. That’s a...a joke.”

(Cravendy Hound) i dont know whether to laugh or cry )) (Aislinn North) ((ohhhhh...I think this is one of those times where its just both!)) (Cravendy Hound) both? both. xD )) (Aislinn North) ((xD)) (Aislinn North) ((Also did she just go and pitch herself into the water, or just her head?)) (Cravendy Hound) LOL she stepped into the water, slams herself completely underwater, and then came back )) (Aislinn North) ((lol! Got it!)) (Cravendy Hound) lmao i dont know which would give off more of an insane person vibe. if she crawled on the wood and dunked just her head in the water versus what she actually did )) (Aislinn North) ((lol! Oy, that's true! Six of one, I suppose))

Aislinn North As the woman let loose on her, Aislinn realized the turn of phrase she's used since childhood may have been misconstrued. She sat in stunned silence after watching Cravendy pitch herself into the lake. She'd get up but at the moment, in her condition, that seemed like too much of a chore. "I didn't..." it was all for the best as Cravendy immediately returned and squelched back down on the bench. "It's just...something I say. Of course nothing about this is alright." she let go a breath. "Cravendy...I gathered that. From the note you left me." A part of her had to admire someone who could do exactly what they felt like doing. She, herself, had been holding in a scream for days. She looked forward to when she could pick up her pistol again and target shoot. She had always been better at letting her gun snarl and growl for her. "And like I said, it's not an easy thing. But it'll get easier."

Cravendy Hound sits in wet, miserable silence. Her hair, once a dense tangle resembling a pine tree, is now slicked down against her face and shoulders. And she’s godsdamned grateful for looking like a mess right now, as it hides the tears and redness in her eyes. She’s not some whelp to be pitied, she’s a tough pirate that shoots first and asks questions later! Used to be, anyway. Cravendy sniffs once. Must be the cold.

Cravendy Hound: “Hah, ah...No.” She takes a bundle of hair in her hand and wrings water out of it. It’s a little salty. “Yeah. No...No? No.”

Cravendy Hound: “........Aye.”

Aislinn North tipped her head as she listened to Cravendy argue. Though whether it was with Aislinn or herself, the highlander couldn't be sure. "Aye." she affirmed. "Because there's no other option." she spoke like someone who knew that was the way of it.

Aislinn North After a pause, she slowly pulled herself to her feet. "I'll be heading back to the House now. Not that anyone has left me much of anything to do...but still." she sighed. She hesitated a moment, studying Cravendy. Feeling torn in several directions all at once. "Come back up when you're ready. No sense sitting in wet clothes for very long."

Cravendy Hound sighs. Well, that went swimmingly. She shrugs her shoulders and lets Lin go, preferring to unwind in the privacy of this lonely island for now.

#ff14 rp logs #Cravendy Hound #Aislinn North #cravendy is an absolute disaster #she went swimming FULLY CLOTHED AFTER THIS #me at first: cool and serious older sister type! #me now: dumpster fire awkward spaghetti ball of FEAR that makes her look ANGRY #aaaaa

[jaerontaemo]

Livsnjutare

Jaeyong one-shot

[n.] livsn•ýu•ta•ŕē - a person who loves life deeply and lives it to the extreme.

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Summary: Jaehyun goes on a vacation with his parents for three days to a quiet island. There, he meets a free spirited boy who catches his attention. They have an exhilarating adventure, leaving Jaehyun with unforgettable memories.

Word count: 5862

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Jaehyun sat in his family's van staring out of the window aimlessly. He saw the expansive waters around them and the silhouette of a distant Island in the horizon. Currently they were on a ferry headed to an Island in Incheon. If he was being honest, he wasn't looking forward to this family trip in the slightest.

He and his family have been going on family trips once a year ever since he could remember. When he was a kid they were exciting, but now that he's practically a senior in high school he found them to be lame, especially the things his parents chose for them to do.

Truly he wished they would have left him behind, so that he could hang out with his friends or stay home and play PUBG, at least. Instead, they just had to buy his ticket giving him no choice at all, and so here he was, sitting in their vehicle as they were being transported to some boring island he's never even heard of in his life.

Jaehyun watched as the ferry sailed across the sea, the faint sound of the waves crashing against the ship and people outside bustling along the railings of the ship, was heard through his partially cracked window, "Mom, tell me again why we had to come to this place? What was it? Deokdu?"

"It's Deokjeokdo, Jae. Also, the article I read online said that it's a hidden gem. We're going for a rejuvenating vacation." His mom said as she turned her head from her magazine to look at her son.

"Are you sure it isn't abandoned?" he said under his breath and glanced over to his younger sister who had been chewing her gum loudly for the past half an hour. The melody from her earphones was loud enough for everyone to hear.

Jaehyun groaned at the fact he was stuck here for the next hour until their ferry would reach the port. He looked at his phone to see no bars at the top. They were surely headed to the middle of nowhere. He then pulled the hoodie of his jacket over his head and shut his eyes hoping to pass out to kill time.

Once the ferry reached the port, his mom patted his leg to wake him and his dad turned the engine on and they were directed to drive off. When they got onto the main road, his dad drove them to their accommodation for the next three days with the help of his wife's directions.

After a while they pulled up alongside a guesthouse. His parents and sister got outside, whereas Jaehyun was shell-shocked, his face fell even further into a frown. He had not expected they'd be staying in a run-down place like this. This vacation was starting off to be the worst they've ever been on. "Come out and help, Jae" his dad called. Jaehyun sighed and finally exited the van to help unpack their luggage from the trunk.

They climbed the stairs, being met on the way by friendly strangers who roamed the cramped place freely. Jaehyun tugged the suitcase while his eyes inspected the place with scrutiny. He wasn't sure if his face gave away the feeling of disgust but he didn't care anyway.

Three days... i can survive three days.

After they settled in their small room, they all went back downstairs to find a food establishment they could dine at. Luckily they found a restaurant in walking distance of the guesthouse.

The bell jingled as they walked inside signaling that new customers have arrived. The place was relatively cozy with wooden stools at the bar and some wooden chairs and tables with a few booths. The family settled into a booth by the window. Jaehyun and his sister sat next to each other with him being on the inside nearest to the window. His parents sat opposite to them.

Jaehyuns mom picked up the menu which was already laid out on the table and began browsing through it. His dad and sister also followed suit.

"Ah, the grilled fish sounds good. What do you think, hun?" His mom leaned to her husband and asked. "Sounds good, I'll have one of that." His dad replied with a nod.

Jaehyun took a brief glance at the menu. He couldn't muster the appetite for anything in particular. His only hope was that this vacation would go by quickly.

Taeyong wiped the counter at the bar where he worked, when the bell jingled. He turned his head to see a family of four walking into the restaurant. His eyes fell on the tall boy who slid into the booth across the room, the boy was handsome despite the bored expression on his face.

He had been living at Deokjeokdo ever since he graduated from high school. He found the place a much needed escape from the busy city life and chose to work at the restaurant to make money to pay the rent. He enjoyed it because the whole vibe of the island was so calming and carefree and he was able to live the way he wanted away from the controls of his family.

"Taeyong, can you go and serve those customers?" he heard his coworker say. He saw they pointed at the same booth he had been eyeing. "Sure" He grinned and placed the wetcloth in the bucket on the floor. He then took out the small notepad from the fanny pack he was wearing before he walked towards the booth.

Jaehyun placed his head on the table into his folded arms only to be nudged on the head by his mom. "Jae, get up. Remember your table manners. We're in public."

He immediately sat up, "Mom, can we just go back home? This place is lame." He said. When she didn't respond, he then slouched into the seat, folding his arms, shutting his eyes. "Can I take your orders?" Taeyong asked as he got to the table, his gaze fixed momentarily on the brown haired boy reclining into the cushioned bench before looking at the other persons.

"Yes, two grilled fish with rice, one grilled chicken with fries-" Jaehyuns mom said before she glanced over at him. "Jae, dear, what will you have?" she asked. He leaned forward and opened his eyes to skim the menu one last time, "the fish burger with fries and a lemonade" he stated as he shut his eyes and resumed his relaxed position.

His mom took the menu from in front of him and passed it to Taeyong. Taeyong was certain the boy was even more handsome with his deep voice. However, he seemed sort of cold. He went to place their orders and as his shift was over, he took his fanny pack and apron off. As he was going through the door, he took a lasting glance at the younger male and then went out to ride his bicycle home.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

On the first day, Jaehyun refused to get up bright and early to hike a damn mountain and so his family left him behind in the room. He had been lying on the bed as he played mobile games, occasionally getting up to use the restroom. As the time was nearly lunch time he was beginning to feel hungry. He had thought that his family would've been back by lunch time, he couldn't wait any longer and got dressed and went out in search of some food.

Remembering the restaurant they stopped at yesterday he decided to go there. It was also the only place he was familiar with. He had no intentions of going further than necessary. He walked inside and looked around the bright place to see many wooden fixtures with a poorly decorated nautical theme.

He saw the same booth they had sat at yesterday free and decided to sit there. He got into the same seat and immediately picked up the menu. As he was browsing the menu he could sense someone at the booth but he didn't pay them any attention. "What will you have today, oh, it's you again" the voice said.

Jaehyun looked up to the owner of the voice to see a beautiful male with platinum blonde hair standing before him. The said male wore a black t-shirt with denim jeans, an apron and a belt bag around his waist. "You're alone this time?" the male spoke again. Jaehyun finally came to his senses, "what do you mean?" he questioned in confusion.

"Your family, they aren't with you today." The blonde said with a smile. What a smile he gave, it sent butterflies into Jaehyuns stomach. He had never seen anyone so cute yet beautiful at the same time. The boy then tilted his head to the side and chuckled as he waited for Jaehyun to reply, "Oh right, they all went hiking without me" Jaehyun chuckled nervously back.

"So what will it be today?" The other boy asked and lifted his notepad to take the order. Jaehyun stared blankly. What was he ordering again? He quickly glanced back at the menu as he completely forgot what he chose. After he gave the beautiful male his order the latter went back to the counter to place his order.

How uncool. Jaehyun thought to himself.

He mentally smacked himself. He was being a weirdo and staring too long. He slouched into the seat and groaned. The scenario replayed in his mind over and over. After a while, the blonde returned to the table with his meals and a glass of lemonade, placing it down in front of Jaehyun causing him to abruplty sit upright. He then smiled and bowed awkwardly, which Taeyong smiled back and then went to clean the tables.

Jaehyun would watch the male worker as he moved from table to table. Occasionally the said male would stare in his direction which would cause him to look away. This continued until he finished his meal.

He was now biting the straw, his glass was empty and he glanced out of the window at the harbour nearby. He saw boats at the docks and people walking by on the street. "How was it?" The other male asked, drawing his attention to him. The other male began to pick up the empty plate and was reaching for the empty glass in Jaehyuns hand.

Jaehyun noticed and spat the straw out of his mouth and passed him the glass, "It was g-good." He then took out his wallet to retrieve some cash he had as pocket money for souvenirs and other miscellaneous items.

The boy was about to step away but paused his movements, "Listen, I couldn't help but overhear yesterday that you're visiting? If you want, I can give you a tour of the place once my shift is over." He said, looking at the younger boy.

Jaehyun thought briefly. He questioned whether it was safe to trust this person. He didn't seem dangerous, but usually those are the ones who are bad news, his years of drama watching had taught him that, at least. "Hm...yeah, why not?" he eventually decided. The boy beamed at the response, "Great! You can hang around here for a bit, if you'd like. I should be done in another hour. Is that okay?" Jaehyun nodded and smiled shyly. The blonde haired boy then continued walking away with the empty dinnerware.

While Jaehyun waited he played the game on his phone. He would occasionally glance over at the other male's direction from time to time. An hour seemed so far away, until it finally came. The fascinating boy walked to the table to fetch Jaehyun and then they walked outside of the restaurant. They walked to a nearby light post where a bicycle was secured to.

"By the way, my name's Taeyong. What's yours?" The blonde asked as he bent to unlock the anti-theft lock around his bicycle wheel. "Oh, I'm Jaehyun" the younger replied. He wanted to ask if they weren't taking a vehicle but decided to keep it to himself.

Taeyong stood up after he finished unlocking the bicycle "Nice to meet you Jaehyun, hop on" he said after mounting the seat but leaving space for the other.

Jaehyun hesitated momentarily, then got on. He wasn't sure where to place his hands and hovered over the blondes shoulders. "Rest your hands on my shoulder." Taeyong said as he grabbed his hands and placed them atop his shoulders. Jaehyun then became slightly tensed.

Pushing off with his right foot, the older began to pedal and they took off from the restaurant with no particular destination in mind.

The older showed the nearby stores and rode along the stretch of road. Occasionally he gave commentary to some of the sights around the island that they could reach.

After a while, they came across a beach which Taeyong stopped at to take a rest. Jaehyun went to sit on the sandy floor, watching the waves rush along the shore and the other male who walked barefooted to the water, letting it wash over his feet.

Taeyong then went to sit beside him. He glanced at Jaehyun who had been throwing pebbles into the waves. "So, how old are you?" He ultimately asked.

As Jaehyun kept throwing the pebbles he responded softly, "I'm eighteen. I just entered my senior year of high school. What about you?" He finally lifted his gaze to the others direction. "I'm twenty-one." Taeyong displayed an energetic smile. He had a feeling Jaehyun was a few years younger and the confirmation made him somewhat happy.

The younger rubbed the back of his nape,"So...you live here or something?" He questioned curiously to which the older commented, "yes I do. I moved after I finished high school". Jaehyun was speechless, he wondered why someone would choose to live here voluntarily. "Why here?" He asked, the question coming out harsher than inteneded. Taeyong chuckled softly, choosing to disregard the youngers tone, "why not here?" And Jaehyun had no other comments.

They sat there, talking about themselves and things they liked until Jaehyun received a call from his dad asking where he was. He then assured that he was safe and not far away and would be back shortly. After he hung up, they both brushed the sand off of their bottoms and went to the bicycle, getting on it and riding back to the guesthouse.

When they arrived Jaehyun thanked Taeyong for showing him around and dropping him back home. When he asked if they could do this again tomorrow, the older agreed instantaneously. He then went inside the guesthouse and up to his family's room, excited for tomorrow to come.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Jae, wake up, dear" his mom called out to him. She had been trying to wake him up for the last ten minutes. However, he wasn't much of a heavy sleeper, just stubborn. "Jaehyun come out of the room, for goodness sakes!" she yelled which immediately made him open his eyes and groan.

It was day two and his mom wasn't going easy on him today and so they all got dressed and set out for the local market. Jaehyun was fairly upset that he couldn't see Taeyong until later. He was excited to hang out again today and wondered where they would go. Instead, he currently stood in a smelly, wet, seafood and produce market.

His dad was bargaining with the vendor on some freshly caught abalone and other shellfish which would be much more expensive on the mainland.

Jaehyun glanced at his phone to see it was now lunch time. Taeyong would be getting off of his shift in the next hour. He wished that his parents would hurry and purchase whatever they were after so that he could catch the older in time.

He rushed over to his moms side, clinging to her, "mom, hurry please. I'm hungry and tired." he whined and his sister nodded at her in agreement. She looked over at her son to pat him on the back, "Just a second, Jae. I just have to pay" she said. He rejoiced, just his dad was left to convince. Jaehyun walked over to where his dad was and tapped his shoulder, "dad, mom said she's almost ready" he wasn't completely lying.

A few minutes later, they were in the van and heading back to the guesthouse to put the stuff in the freezer. Once they arrived and put down their belongings, they walked over to the restaurant, the place Jaehyun had been hungry for since he woke up.

When they walked inside, he immediately scanned the room to see Taeyong behind the bar counter serving drinks. The blonde glimpsed him when he entered and they both greeted each other with a smile. Jaehyun then went to the booth with his family and they all looked at the menu.

After they had all finished their meals, they were getting up to head back to the guesthouse. "What are you waiting for, Jae. Let's go" his dad said when he noticed his son hasn't gotten up.

"Oh, I'm just gonna hang around here and maybe take a look around at the stores nearby" Jaehyun nervously chewed his bottom lip, "Okay, don't be out late. The doors close at 10pm" his dad said and then they went back without him.

A moment later, and Taeyong came out without his apron. He was now off the clock and went over towards where Jaehyun was seated. "Ready to go, Jaehyun?" He smiled at the younger who smiled back broadly, revealing his dimples. "Yep!" If Taeyong could melt, he would right now at the sight of such a handsome person smiling so lovely.

They walked out of the restaurant and after Taeyong unlocked his bicycle they both got on. "Where to, this time?" Jaehyun asked after he got on the seat and placed his hands on Taeyongs shoulder, "You'll see. It's a secret." he said and then pushed off to their destination.

After riding for twenty minutes, they reached the site of a hiking trail. Taeyong secured his bicycle on the parking rack when they got off. Jaehyun looked around, uncertain of where they were and what they were doing here.

His eyes found a sign which had the word 'hiking' on it and his mouth fell open. "Don't tell me..." he trailed off and turned towards the older. Taeyong gave a smirk, "It's exactly what you're thinking. Come on, let's get some gear." He said, and walked off to the building ahead.

They each got a small knapsack with water and some equipment for emergencies and then set off by foot on the trail ahead. After walking a few miles, Jaehyun was already panting and sweaty. He stopped, supporting himself on his knees as he caught his breath. "Hey, wait up!" He called to the older who was a few feet ahead of him.

Taeyong stopped to look behind him. He laughed when he saw how tired the younger appeared. From his built, he would've thought he had more stamina. "Hurry, Jae or we'll miss the sunset" he called. Jaehyun keened at the endearment and took a few deep breaths before he continued climbing the stairs.

After stopping on two more occasions, they were nearly at the top of the trail. Taeyong viewed the landscape which was beginning to appear.

The wide open land, the beaches and sea were all visible at this point. He looked beside him to see Jaehyun staring at the same view with a look of wonder. "Beautiful, isn't it?" And Jaehyun nodded, too stunned for words. He then glanced at the older.

Really beautiful. He thought, seeing the side profile of the blonde.

Taeyong then turned to him and grinned, "race you to the top" he said and then took off running up the remaining stairs, leaving the younger behind. "Hey, that's cheating!" Jaehyun then mustered the strength to start running after him.

As soon as they reached the top, they shouted in accomplishment. They could appreciate the landscape of the island more clearly at this height. Various forestry and the sandy beaches with people walking about was a sight to see.

Jaehyun was mesmerized by the effortless beauty. The backdrop of the sky made it even more stunning. It was filled with hues of orange and pink as the sun was staring to set. He could almost understand the lure of the island.

When they had replenished their energy, they set back down the stairs. It was much easier and they reached back to the building in a jiffy. As they were returning the bags, Jaehyun spoke, "thanks for bringing me here, it was great", the older looked at him with a small smile, "no problem. I figured since you missed it yesterday I would take you to see it. However, this isn't all." He winked.

"Oh? There's more?" The brunette raised his brows and followed behind the older towards the bicycle. They made their way to the last stop of the night, a music festival. Locals and some tourists gathered under the setting sun, where many bands and dance performers attended.

They both stood at the side of the stage, watching the band as they performed. The music filled the air and the crowd was enthralled with its melody as they danced to it. Shortly after a pair of dancers came on stage. At the angle they were at, they could barely get a proper view of the performance.

The younger watched as Taeyong stepped closer to the stage. "Where are you going??" He questioned, nearly shouting over the music. Taeyong turned back and motioned for him to come along, pointing to the stage.

Jaehyun was confused and debated following him. "Suit yourself!" Taeyong yelled, shrugging his shoulders and then walked off, around to corner to go behind the stage. Jaehyun then panicked and went to follow him, "wait, wait, Taeyong!" he called and as he turned the corner, the older jumped out, startling him.

Taeyong laughed and grabbed his hand, pulling him to the wooden stairs which led to the back of the stage, "w-wait, what are we going to do??" He questioned with apprehension. "You'll see, Jae." He smiled and led him up the stairs.

The music was louder as they stood behind the performers getting a closer look of the show. Taeyong adjusted to the side to get a better view and Jaehyun trailed behind him closely. They watched as the dancers moved fluidly across the stage and twirled their bodies around. They continued to watch until the perfomance was over.

At the end of the concert there was a bonfire on the beach, with music and lantern lighting. Taeyong took Jaehyun over to the people who were giving the lanterns out. They each got one and then went to a spot on the beach to light the lanterns. Once they both lit them, they held them in their hands, "make a wish" Taeyong said and closed his eyes, Jaehyun then closed his as well.

Soon after making their wishes, they released the lanterns into the sky. Jaehyun watched as his lantern flew higher and higher. He didn't mind if his wish wouldn't come true. He felt content, in this moment, right now.

The boys then went to where Taeyong parked his bicycle and he dropped Jaehyun off at the guesthouse. This time, they lingered outside at the front until the doors were locking and Jaehyun had to go. Taeyong promised to take him out again tomorrow and so he had trouble falling asleep, from the anticipation.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The next day came in the blink of an eye. Jaehyuns family decided to stay inside as the weather looked gloomy. They decided to start packing away their things. Jaehyun on the other hand decided to continue to the restaurant after he had packed his things away. He made up his mind, come hell or high water, he wasn't missing his last day with Taeyong.

He had no idea why he was so drawn to the older boy. He admits that he found him extremely attractive and very free spirited, it almost made him happier to be in his presence. He had no idea if Taeyong would feel the same about him, though.

He hardly knew him, although they shared some details about their lives on the beach, there was just much more to know before you really knew a person inside and out. Jaehyun felt the urge to know him better and he hoped Taeyong would feel the same.

After he walked to the restaurant, he spotted Taeyong stepping outside. "Just in time" the older said with a smug look. Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle and he mounted the bike, ready to go wherever the other would take him.

They rode for a few minutes until they came across a street with a souvenir shop and other stores. Taeyong parked and secured his bicycle wheel and then they headed into the first store they found.

They entered into the souvenir store. There were many trinkets and memorabilia displayed. Jaehyuns eyes were caught on a display stand with a variety of multi-coloured beaded bracelets. His finger spun the beads around in awe.

The older then came beside him, noting what he had been fascinated with. "Do you want one?" he asked. Jaehyun turned his head and fixed his posture. He felt embarrassed to be so amazed by such a simple thing. "Uh...yeah." he smiled shyly at the other.

Taeyong then leaned forward inspecting the bracelets, "how about we both get matching ones? I kinda want one now." He tilted his head to stare at the younger who had been watching him, "y-yeah, that sounds great." Jaehyun couldn't fight the heat rising over his cheeks.

His mind was spinning over the fact they would have matching ones. However, his high didn't last after he reasoned it out that they could be friendship bracelets. He internally sighed and they went to purchase the bracelets, he decided to pay for them with the excuse of thanking the other.

They soon left the souvenir shop only to go inside the clothing store a few minutes away. Jaehyun greeted the vendor when they walked in and went past the cash counter to a hoodie which caught his eye. This didn't go unnoticed by the older who simply watched at a distance.

Taeyong then walked closer to him, "why don't you try it on, you look like you're in love." he teased. Jaehyun chuckled and shook his head, "I'm afraid I can't afford it." He then shrugged his shoulder and went to look at a few more items. Taeyong watched him and pondered to himself, he then excused himself saying he had to use the restroom.

Minutes later, Taeyong came back to grab his hand and pull him back in the direction of the same hoodie, "Jae, come on, try on the jacket.... Just for fun" he said with a huge smile. Jaehyun was confused but decided to comply. He took the jacket off of the rack carefully, unzipped it and eased his arms through the holes.

The jacket felt comfier than the ones he owned, it was made of cotton with inner fleece. It had a trendy minimalistic design with the islands name on the bottom. Overall, it fit him well.

Jaehyun suddenly felt that this was a bad idea, he regretted putting it on because it made him feel bad to part with it. It was just a jacket but he genuinely found it cool.

He sighed and was beginning to take it off but was stopped by Taeyong, "wait, keep it on" Jaehyun then raised his eyebrow "Why?" He asked while looking at Taeyong questionably, "you like it don't you?" The older asked.

Jaehyun nodded slightly, unsure of where this conversation was going, "Do you trust me?" Taeyong then questioned. Jaehyun thought for a second, he did trust Taeyong, a lot more than he would care to admit because they had only just met each other two days ago. "Yes..." he softly replied and with that, the older grabbed hold of his hand tightly, "good, let's go" he said while he led them to the entrance, running out of the store.

"Hey, wait yo-!" Jaehyun heard the shop vendor call out to them but when he looked back he didn't see anyone coming after them. They quickly got on the bicycle and rode away.

While they were riding, Jaehyun felt the adrenaline coursing through his system. He breathed in the fresh, calming air and stared at the boy in front of him. Feeling the thrill he took one hand off the boys shoulder. Extending his hand out he felt the breeze blowing through his fingers, it was invigorating and he had never felt so alive.

They soon came up to the port, Jaehyun recognized it immediately. He could see the lighthouse in the distance as they rode along the path. He noticed it was empty, and figured all the ships were done for the day.

When they got to the lighthouse, Taeyong stopped the bicycle and they both got off. Taeyong then immediately went to the door of the lighthouse, he called Jaehyun to come along who came hesitantly, glancing behind them to know whether anyone was around to see them.

Jaehyun joked, "Is this where you bring all your victims?" Which Taeyong laughed, "You caught me"

They then climbed the stairs heading to the top of the lighthouse where the viewing platform was located.

Once they reached the top, the view of the island was apparent through the looking glass. The sun shone brightly through the glass, illuminating the entire room.

They stood next to one another, leaning on the railing of the stairs as they observed the landscape. "This is my favourite place on the island. I've never brought anyone here before..." The older uttered softly. Jaehyun looked at him with hope in his eyes, suddenly a thought occurred to him. "What are you going to do if they catch you?" He asked the older, his voice laced with worry and guilt.

Taeyong turned his head towards him, confused by what he meant. "What do you mean?" He asked to which Jaehyun pointed at the jacket he wore. Taeyong then understood and couldn't contain his laughter. Jaehyun stared at him as if he was crazy. "What is it?? Tell me!" He demanded.

Taeyong smiled viciously, "I already paid for it, don't worry. I was afraid you'd refuse me." He confessed. Jaehyuns mouth fell agape at the statement and he lightly shoved the other away by the arm. "You're adorable, aren't you?" Taeyong asked. Jaehyun nervously smiled, revealing his dimples.

He then looked ahead at the landscape, to avoid making eye contact with Taeyong. When he decided to take a quick glance, he saw the blonde still staring at him, "is something on my face?" he asked, flustered while he wiped his face. Taeyong nodded, "yes, beauty" then leaned over to place his lips against the youngers.

Jaehyun froze at the sudden contact on his lips, he then closed his eyes as they gently meshed together into a heart fluttering kiss. The evening and the view fading away to leave them alone to themselves.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The next morning, Jaehyun woke up feeling uneasy. He and his family were now ready to head to the port. After they loaded their luggage in the trunk, they got inside the van and went on their way.

As they drove past the restaurant, Jaehyun stared hoping to see Taeyong one last time. There was no sign of Taeyongs bicycle by the light pole it frequently was. The older had assured he would meet him at the port to send him off. He exhaled a sigh hoping it wouldn't be a dream.

After kissing - making out in the lighthouse, he was certain that they had a connection. He could feel the sparks as their lips touched and he felt his breath could be taken by the older the way they kissed.

When Taeyong dropped Jaehyun off last night, they didn't want to part, they exchanged numbers in hopes to keep in touch. Perhaps Taeyong would return to the mainland after he was ready to settle down. If not, Jaehyun was determined to come back-move even, if needs be, in order to spend his days with him.

They arrived to the port ahead of time and there were other cars in line to be loaded on the ferry. Jaehyun and his mom got out of the van. His mom mostly taking photos while he searched around the crowd looking for the person he wished to see.

After a while, it was now their turn to board the ferry and his mom came over to call him, "it's time to go, come on, dear" she said and he turned around to stare at her briefly, "okay mom, I'm coming" he said then continued his search for Taeyong while she headed to their van. He shortly followed behind her after a few more minutes passed.

Their van drove onto the ferry and Jaehyun couldn't wait until it was parked. He got out immediately when the van stopped to run to the railing hoping to see Taeyong waiting at the port for him. When he reached the railing, he gazed at the persons waving at the port, none seemed familiar.

The ferry was leaving the dock and he began to feel discouraged. Now that they were some distance into the sea and away from the port he began to think Taeyong forgot about him already. He turned to walk back to the van, and that's when he heard his name being shouted.

Jaehyun whipped his head around to see Taeyong standing at the edge of the dock waving to him. He smiled brightly at the other male and waved back like crazy. His heart leaped in his chest at the sight of the other. They continued waving to each other, mindless of whoever saw them because they could care less.

Fixated on each other, they watched as the ferry sailed further into the sea until they could no longer see one another. Jaehyun then went back to the van, entering the backseat and settling comfortably into it.

The smile on his face refused to fade and he glanced at the bracelet on his hand, twirling the beads around. He noted his sister listening to her music loudly as usual and his mom occupied by her phone, whereas his dad was reading a book.

He shook his head at the scene and it's familiarity. Shortly, his mom looked around to see him gazing out of the window, "Such a shame you couldn't see the beauty of the island, Jae. All you saw was the room and that restaurant" she commented then continued viewing the photos she took.

Jaehyun smirked, "yeah mom, such a shame." he said softly and resumed toying with his bracelet. If he was being honest, this trip was unforgettable.

"Romantic and energetic"

- J. Jh

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