#Tugs Abridged
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Like Riding a Bike
read my other work here!
pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader
*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*
word count: 677
summary: despite being on break, Harry manages to find his way back onstage.
a/n: i've been away for a bit, i hope you guys didn't forget about me! i've got a couple of half finished one shots i'm hoping to complete and post in the coming weeks, including some of the asks that you beautiful people have sent me! i really miss writing, but motivation has been hard to come by.
tags: @abby8694 @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat
You and Harry walked down the street hand in hand. The streetlights illuminated the late night city streets, as the sounds of laughter and conversation filled the summer air. The two of you had just finished dinner, and decided to take a stroll around the city.
As you approached the outdoor beer garden, you heard a familiar melody from the band that was performing. You look up at Harry, and he gives you a sly smirk in return, as he hears his own lyrics flowing through the air.
“Wanna go grab a pint?” He asks.
You giggle as he leads you toward the gate. “I think somebody just needs attention.”
He looks at you incredulously. “Who me?!”
You slapped him playfully on the arm as the two of you entered the beer garden. You both stand in the back at first, but as the song goes on you can see Harry’s face, you know he wants to make his presence known. He had been on a break for a few months, and while he was loving the peace and quiet, Harry was a performer first and foremost. He loved being the center of attention.
You tug on his arm, getting his attention. “Go on, I’ll hang back here,” you say encouragingly.
“Yeah?” He asks, you nod encouragingly, and giggle as he makes his way to the front.
While everyone else is sitting, holding conversations with their parties, Harry stands directly in front of the stage, waiting to be noticed. The singer does a quick double take, and Harry nods in confirmation. He is immediately ushered on stage, just as they get to the bridge. The crowd is so locked in their own conversations that they don’t notice what is happening, until he opens his mouth.
“Go home, get ahead, light speed internet…”
You watch from the back as eyes go wide, heads start to turn, and phones start being pointed at the stage as he does the abridged versions of his typical stage moves, adjusting to the significantly smaller stage size. He has performed on some of the biggest stages in the world, but in a setting like this there’s something particularly special to him. Maybe because in all those stadiums and arenas, people are there for him. But here, it’s just people having a night out that couldn’t care less that he’s onstage. Getting their attention, and winning them over gives him a special kind of rush.
The song ended and the crowd went crazy, cheering and shouting. Harry bowed before turning to confer with the band, you knew exactly what was happening. Your theory was confirmed when the band started playing, and Harry stepped up to the microphone and began singing Adore You.
Your eyes were locked on him, watching him do what he loves, what he was born to do. Your heart melting just a little each time he’d shoot you a glance or a wink. It was a bittersweet moment, while you’ve both enjoyed his break, but this was just a reminder that he had greater things waiting for him.
Once the song finished, Harry thanked the audience, hugged the band and stepped offstage, where he was stopped every few steps for a hug or a photo. He greeted everyone kindly, smiling and chatting with them. Eventually he made his way back to you, you could see the sparkle in his eyes, the one he always had when he got off stage.
“Ready to go?” He asks.
You arch a brow at him. “Are you? Or do you want to do another encore?”
Harry chuckles and grabs your hand, tugging you toward the exit. “Jealous?”
“Nope, part of the territory of being a superstar’s girlfriend. I know I have to share you with the world.”
You get back onto the street, and he pulls you into him, wrapping his arm around your waist as you continue to walk down the street. “Not always, my love.” He kisses the top of your head. “Let’s get home so you can have me all to yourself.”
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x plus size reader#harry styles headcanon#harry styles fluff#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fan fiction#harry edward styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles blurb#harry styles one shot
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I’m glad your back! Can I request Part 11 of the Davy Back Fight? (You can take your time with this and not gonna lie, I thought this arc was Filler until I looked it up 😅)
After escaping from some Sea Monkeys (Reader thought they were cute) they find an island where everything is super long! Meeting the Old Hermit Tonjit and Shelly the Horse (Reader is sparkly eyed by Shelly and feeds her long apples) but end up battling the Foxy Pirates in a Davy Back Fight to get Shelly back
They lost Reader to the Foxy Pirates (The Foxy Pirates know her bounty) but they only want her because she’s adorable, as they’re gushing and coddling her for how cute she is (She’s confused, because even though they’re the enemy, they don’t remind her of ‘That Man’)
Regardless Reader wants to be with the Straw Hats, as she shyly says “I want to be with my Big Brothers, Big Sister Nami and Robin, they’re very special to me, like…like my treasure”, which makes the Foxy Pirates and Straw Hats bawl from how sweet that was (Zoro and Robin are clutching their chests)
The Straw Hats promise Reader that they’ll get her back, so she’s just watching the battles, trying the food and playing a few games (She wasn’t upset when Luffy choose Shelly, Nami and Usopp were beating him black and blue rather she was happy since she was worried about Shelly, and gently says “Of course I’m not upset, this was to get Shelly back, and I know my big brother will save me, he’s like a Superhero, a Cool Pirate Superhero!” Which made Luffy bawl, calling Reader ‘Awesome’) though she was confused about Luffy wearing something called an ‘Afro’ (Thinking it’s a giant puff ball) as she was with Robin and Chopper timidly cheering him on (And was happy when Luffy won)
- Reader didn’t call Robin her sister because she doesn’t feel that’s what Robin is to her (She doesn’t realize that the reason why Robin doesn’t feel like a sister is because she’s a Mother Figure instead *Mama Robin*) I just wanted to add that little tidbit of information (For some future drama)
Phew! Sorry if this was a lot! Some of these Arcs are long or have a lot of information! (A lot of them are longer after the Time Skip though, with a few exceptions *Thriller Bark, Water Seven which continued into 2-3 consecutive arcs and Marineford*) You can also shorten/abridged this arc if you want to as well, since this was a lot of stuff (I wouldn’t blame you)
I’m going to be completely honest- but Foxy is one of the few characters in One Piece that I absolutely can’t stand- not sure why but he pisses me off for some reason. This isn't going to be exactly what you requested for this one, but I hope you enjoy it!
-After leaving the G8 base, the decision was made to head to find someone who could not only fix the ship, but find a shipwright as well for the crew.
-You tugged on Ussop’s pants, “What’s a shipwright?” he kneeled down next to you, putting a hand on your head with a grin, “A shipwright is someone who builds and repairs ships. We’re looking for someone to fix Merry and then travel with us in case if the ship gets damaged again so they can fix it.”
-You nodded, beaming before Robin picked you up, holding you up on her hip, “Time for a nap Y/N.” you nodded softly, “Will you read to me?” Robin smiled softly, adoring your question as she loved to read to you as Zoro called out that there was an island coming up.
-You wanted to stay up because you wanted to see the new island but Robin smiled after she sat you on your bed, “I’ll wake you up if there’s anything interesting to see.” You nodded, agreeing before crawling up to your pillow to lay down and beamed up at Robin who grabbed one of her books.
-You were out within minutes, sleeping quietly as she walked back out to rejoin the rest of the crew as the ship approached this strange island, Long Ring Long Land.
-Robin didn’t wake you back up after the crew was bullied into a Davy Back Challenge by Foxy the Silver Fox and the Foxy Pirates, and they had all silently agreed to try to keep your existence a secret, just in case if Foxy tried to take you.
-You woke up after a loud crashing sound, sitting up with a small whine, rubbing at your eyes as you looked around, wondering what was going on.
-You wandered out, standing on your tip toes to see Usopp putting an afro wig on top of Luffy’s head which made question marks fly around your head as you headed to the gangplank, walking down.
-Porsche saw you and her eyes turned into hearts, “You’re so cute!!” she hugged you close after running over and you were struggling to get free, not knowing her as you began to panic as she shouted at Foxy to win so she could cuddle you and Chopper more.
-You managed to get out and run to hide behind Chopper, peeking out which made her squeal on how shy you were before Robin stepped in front of the two of you, protecting you both which made Porsche glare fiercely, seeing her as a rival for your affections.
-You and Chopper both hugged Robin’s legs who wasn’t bothered as you questioned what was going on as you watched Luffy and Foxy fighting one another.
-Robin explained that the Foxy Pirates challenged the Straw Hats to a Davy Back Challenge, where members of each crew competed against each other, and whatever team won could take a member from the losing crew for their own.
-You were horrified, hugging Chopper, tears welling in your eyes after you learned that he had been lost to the Foxy Pirates, but won back by Zoro and Sanji, and now it was the final battle, with the winning captain taking whatever they wanted, and Foxy wanted the Straw Hat crew as his own.
-You cheered for Luffy as he won, taking Foxy’s flag as payment, painting a new one and you even got to help, putting some glitter on it to make it pretty, something Porsche thanked you for before asking if you wanted to join the Foxy Pirates.
-You were polite in answering her, shaking your head, “I want to stay with my big brothers, my big sister Nami, and Mama Robin.” She pouted, wanting Foxy to issue another Davy Back Challenge, but they just took their new flag and ran off, swearing revenge while you waved bye-bye to them with Sanji. Robin couldn't help but smile, hearing your words, calling her Mama, but it felt nice that you thought of her in that way.
-Luffy beamed, holding onto your hand as he grinned, “I’m going to introduce you to my new friends, one is a really tall horse named Shelley, and the other is a weird old guy called Tonjit."
-Outside the front of the house, there was a very tall man sleeping, who was awoken by your approaching crew, you didn’t know this man but you froze, scared as you saw Robin fall to her rear in fear, introducing this man as Admiral Aokiji, one of the three admirals in the marines at the moment.
-Aokiji yawned loudly, surprising everyone, before he spoke, “I ain’t here to fight with you. I just wanted to see where Nico Robin wound up after Alabasta.” He looked down at you as you were hiding behind Luffy and he smiled, “Aww- you’re a cutie! Want a candy?” he held out a lollipop for you, which surprised you, but you took it after he kneeled down, ruffling your hair gently.
-You were in awe, your eyes sparkling as Aokiji used his ice Devil Fruit to make a path for Tonjit and Shelly to reunite with his tribe and you waved goodbye to them.
-Despite appearing friendly early, Aokiji instantly turns and spoke, deeming the crew as a threat, especially Robin, who can read something called a Poneglyph and that every time Robin joins an organization, she’s always the last survivor.
-Aokiji then looked at you, like he was going to say something before Robin attacked him and he easily blocked her attack with a blade made from frozen grass, going to attack her before Zoro and Sanji blocked the blow before getting thrown back, Sanji’s leg being covered in ice and the same with Zoro’s arm.
-Luffy tried to rush at him, throwing a punch before getting his fist frozen which made you fall to your rear in fear before Robin tried again, only for him to freeze her whole body, making your mouth fall open in fear as you screamed out her name.
-When Aokiji tried to break the frozen Robin, Luffy stopped him before Usopp grabbed her and Nami grabbed you and Chopper and fled back to the ship.
-You cried loudly once on the ship, clutching at Robin as you had used your quirk to unfreeze her, worrying all of them as Robin held you close, worrying for Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, and Usopp who had gone back.
-When you saw your big brother frozen just like Robin you felt like you couldn’t breathe before unfreezing him as well, using your reversal quirk. You only had a minor fever afterwards, nothing too worrisome, but you couldn’t stop crying, even after you gave yourself the hiccups, being held by Luffy who was glaring hard.
-They had all had a harsh reality check on the power of others in this world, realizing they needed to get some strong crew mates if you all were going to survive in this unforgiving world. They had to get stronger so they could protect you, something Robin mentioned after you cried yourself to sleep, “We were lucky that he didn’t take Y/N- if he wanted to, he could have.”
-Elsewhere, riding a bicycle over the ocean on a thin strip of ice, Aokiji sneezed suddenly, “Oh~ I wonder who’s talking about me? I wonder if I forgot something~ hmmm- must have not been important.” Before continuing on his journey.
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Parents To Be J.B
Abridgement: Knowing that you wanted to have kids you were more than ready to pop out 15 kids if you could. But what you weren't prepared for is what came out of your husbands' mouth.
Joe Burrow x Reader
Warnings// 18+ minors DNI,smut, fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex,overstimulation, baby making
Growing up you wanted nothing more than to be a mother. You thought it would be the most rewarding thing to create life with the love of your life and raise a person to the best person they can be.
So, when Joe brought up the topic of having kids you were caught off guard. " Let's have a baby."Joe said with all the seriousness that he could muster in his voice. Seemingly you were shocked that he said it so out of the blue you couldn't do anything but have a stale look on your face. "You want to have a baby?" you said making sure that what you just heard wasn't just all in your head.
"Duh, are you not ready?" Looking at him you have never seen him have such a scared and almost disappointed look on his face. "It's not the fact that I'm not ready to have a baby. It's just that you said it so abruptly that I had to make sure I wasn't hearing things" laughing you said looking dead at him. " Oh,no you weren't hearing things, and I can't wait to do all the things that comes to making a baby with you."
You felt your knees buckle underneath you feel yourself get aroused by what you just heard come out of your husbands' mouth. "How about you to tell me what you're going to do to me."looking at him lustfully you wanted nothing more than to walk over to him and let him take you right in the kitchen.
"Well first I'm going to take you up into our bedroom and I'm going to sit your pretty ass down on the bed and undress you from head to toe." Walking over to you he knew exactly what he was doing to you. "And then what?" you replied in almost a taunting way to egg him on even more to get him right where you want him. "Then I'm going to fuck you so good" looking at you dead in the eyes with all seriousness so that you would fully understand that he was going to ruin you.
You finally had enough of the teasing that you drag his head down for you to reach his lips and give him the most erotic kiss to project how horny you were in that moment. It was like you couldn't help yourself anymore, in that moment and you just wanted him to take you in all ways. Gripping and tugging at his shirt you wanted to get him and yourself out of your cloths and get right to it. Pulling it over his head only to slam your lips back onto his. Pulling away hearing you whimper he snickered saying " Why don't we take this upstairs?" knowing it was about to get hot and heavy. Looking at him you nodded your head ready for what was in store for you. Picking you up it felt like Joe was moving at the speed of light to get you both to the bedroom.
"You're in a hurry, aren't you?" you said giggling at how much in a rush he was. "Your damn right I am." Walking into the room and slightly throwing you on the bed he was ready, maybe even more ready than you. Struggling to take your shirt off you he you moved to pull your shirt off in a rush. Just for him to move his head and suck on your left breast while his hand gripped the other.
Occasionally moving to your neck to give you leave many marks on the soft skin he adored so much. Groaning out you knew you couldn't take foreplay anymore and that you wanted him to take you now. "Joey please." you whimpered "Please what baby?" he looked at you with much concerned. "I want your mouth baby, please." looking at him with the most pleading eyes you could muster. Rushing to pull your bottoms off and giving what you want as if you were in dire need of it. Stopping and taking a second to look at the most beautiful woman he ever seen. He was looking down at you like you were the trophy above all trophies. That's when he knew that he was ready for you to carry his child. "You see something you like?" noticing that he stopped all movements and was just staring at you.
"No." A little talking aback by what he just said you were about to say a smart remark before he cut you off before you could even start saying anything. "I see something that I love." smiling looking down at you. "Come here." you told him ready for him to make love to you. Now hovering over you looking deep into your eyes he ran his hand down the side of your body to you wet and ready core that was being guarded by your lacy panties. "All this, for me? " he said jokingly. "You know nobody else could ever make me this wet but you" smirking he moved down your body gently kissing you as if you were the most delicate object in the world.
Looking up at you in the eyes he slowly pulled your panties down your leg taunting you knowing what you wanted. Looking at your wet pussy he knew he won the ultimate prize. Licking a stripe up slowly you were taken aback not ready for what he just did. With a hushed tone he said to himself "oh fuck". Now in his element nothing stopped him from getting you off by eating your pussy until you blacked out.
While eating you out he moved his hand up your thigh to move your leg for it to drape over his shoulder. in that moment you knew what you were in for, moaning out loudly as if you wanted the whole word to hear how good he was making you feel. "Oh yes baby" you practically belted out feeling all the ecstasy a human being could feel in an entirety of a moment.
Moving his hand back Joe knew exactly what would bring you over the edge in mere seconds. Moving your leg from over his shoulder, he pulled his head back regretfully from your pussy, he brought his hand up to your mouth " Wet it for me". Looking into his lust filled eyes that were now grey, you took both his digits in his mouth, and you never felt dirtier.
Taking his fingers out of your mouth you knew exactly what he was about to do to you and the thought of it did nothing but made your fire burn more and more. Moving his head back down to your soaking wet core he slowly moved his fingers inside of you. Throwing your head back "Oh yes daddy" moaning out.
" With what you're in for you won't be the only one calling me daddy anymore" he said cockily. As he kept going Joe knew that you were on your way to where he wanted you to be, and you knew it to.
"Oh, fuck daddy!" you moaned out so loud you were pretty sure that your neighbors could hear you. But in that moment, you didn't care at all, all you cared about was the way the coil in your stomach was slowly but surely about to snap.
"You ready to cum for daddy baby?" Joe said as if he was taunting you knowing that you were nearing closer and closer to your peak. Now starting to move his fingers in and out of your wet cunt in a fast rushed pace.
In that moment you thought that seeing stars was a understament for what you felt in this moment. You felt as if he showed you the galaxy and the entire milky way in one moment. Arching your back you felt as if your soul was being taken out of your body. But unbeknownst to you Joe had other plans in store for you. While he knew you came; he just couldn't stop himself from continuing. Something inside of him wanted to see you fall over the edge 100 more times until it was a running loop engraved in his brain.
Moving his hands at a faster pace you felt as if you were going to split in half with all the pleasure that you were feeling knowing that it was too much for you. You knew that you couldn't hold yourself off any longer cumming for the second time in two minutes. Looking up at you Joe was excited knowing that he was about to cause a chain reaction of you having immense amounts of pleasure for at least a few more hours.
Coming down from your high you were ready for whatever else you knew your man had in store for you, but before that you wanted to return the favor. Pushing Joe off of you you got off the bed and went down onto your knees and began undoing Joes pants and practically ripping them down along with his boxers you were ready to go to town until you were rudely interrupted by him pulling you back up and pushing you back to sit onto the bed.
"Uh Uh, tonight is all about you." By him saying that you practically came undone. Pulling him down by the back of his next you gave him the most loving kiss to project all the love you have for him.
"Turn around you know the drill.". By him saying this you knew what you were into knowing that doggy was his favorite position out of all the ones you have experimented in. Turning around towards the head of your head of the bed, you whine your ass a little bit for him to get a good view of what was his and only his. "Shit, you're the sexiest woman in the world and you know that don't you?" he said confidently looking down at you from the back knowing that he had something that no other man and it was you, his queen.
"Oh, I know, you make sure I know that every day." saying that in confidence also because you knew it was true. He made you feel like you were the only woman he would ever care about. He made you feel special about everything from your time you spent with him, your body, and everything else about you.
Moving down to leave a trail of kisses down your spine and gently pushing you down for you to have a nice arch in your back, he was ready, and he could tell by how hard his dick was. Inching it toward your entrance he halted his motions to ask, "You ready for me to make us parents?" he said smiling.
"Yes baby, I'm ready" you replied with much anticipation of what was about to happen. And with that response he slid in. Wincing out of a little amount of discomfort simply because out of all the sexual rendezvous you two had you never got used to his beyond average size.
Slowly increasing his pace, you were quickly pulled into the pure bliss of having the love of your life make love to you for the about 1000th in the course of your relationship. As if you were anticipating on him snapping his hips into you from behind at a pace that you simply couldn't handle, it was much to your surprise that he never did.
Joe had plans to make sure all of your collected love for each other came together to potentially make a child. Stroking in and out of you felt like nothing but pure bliss for him. Grabbing your neck from the back and pulling you up for your back to be to his chest he squeezed it slightly, still thrusting in and out of you knowing that you were both were close to your release. " I love you so much baby" whispering it in your ear.
It was a phrase that you heard flow out of his mouth a million times. But this time for you it felt different, you knew that it was so much more by him saying it in this moment. The moment that you were ultimately making a child, making it so much more special for you.
Turning your head placing a kiss upon his lips you knew this was the most special moment for you two besides your guy's union to each other. " I love you too Joseph.". Moving closer and closer to your peak you felt his other had reach down ad begin to circle your clit at a sinisterly slow place.
Moaning out you flipped over the edge with Joe not far behind. Your body convulsing as you were coming down from what was seemingly the best orgasm you have ever had.
Falling over you two got under the covers and layed together thinking about the love you two made to each other. "I think that if we did create a baby in that it's going to show all the love, we have for each other." Joe said breaking the comfortable silence that was flowing through your bedroom in that moment. "It sure will".
3 Weeks Later
A few days after you and joe made love and tried for a baby you started feeling a little sick. Luckily Joe wasn't home because him being the worrisome one in the marriage he would have taken you to the ER to make sure you weren't dying. Knowing what this sickness could have been the result of you went to Walgreens and bought 4 pregnancy tests to be sure that you were pregnant. Going home you take the tests and wait for what feels like an eternity until you see the positive on all four tests.
You were more than excited to tell Joe that you were pregnant, but you knew you had to do it right. So, you ran to the store to pick up some stuff to spruce up something special to tell him that he was going to be a daddy. Picking up a black Cincinnati Bengals infant t-shirt and a card that read 'Congratulation's now we can tell our child how daddy slid in mommy's dms' picking it up simply because you thought it was funny and cute.
Pulling into the driveway you see his Porshe in driveway knowing that he was home. With all the excitement that was coursing through you, you rushed into the house to gift him with the best new you guys could have ever received.
"Joe?! Baby where are you?" you yelled loudly throughout the hose so he could hear you. "I'm in the kitchen!". Practically running into the kitchen, you briefly kissed him on the lips." I have a surprise for you."
Looking at you confused he asked "For what? It is an important day or something?" Confused because he knew that there was nothing special that was supposed to happen knowing also knowing that your anniversary wasn't for another 5 months. "Just close your eyes and prepare to be excited. "you said
Placing the onesie and card in front of him on the counter carefully you took a deep breath before telling him "Open them." Opening his eyes, he looked down and questioned what the hell you were up too. Thoroughly looking at what was placed in front of him he picked up the care and read it.
Dropping it in shocked he looked at you with the excitement of a 3-year-old who walked into Disneyland. "IM GONNA BE A DADDY!?" practically screaming. "Yea you doofus" you said beaming at him.
"See, I told you that you went going to be the only one calling me daddy anymore.IM GONNA BE A FATHER YES!" he said holding both sides of your head in his almost inhumane sized hands he pecked your lips lovingly before running away.
"Where are you going? "you asked seeing him bolt off. "To tell the world I'm going to be a DADDY"
Smiling knowing that this baby is going to be the start of something major for you and Joe. You were nothing but grateful for him and couldn't wait to see how you molded a life for your child together as parents.
-final
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The Quiet Chaos - Chapter 2
Pairing: Billy Knight (Lethal White/Strike) x OFC
Summary: After a bad breakup throws her carefully-planned life into disarray, Esme has sworn off dating forever. However, when she forms an unexpected connection with a young man named Billy, who's dealing with his own struggles, Esme is forced to face the truth: sometimes you can't plan for love.
A/N: Let the Discworld references begin!
Warnings: mental health issues, angst, slow-burn, developing relationship, dysfunctional family, some violence (non-graphic), some smut
Chapter warnings: mention of cheating, stalkerish behavior from an ex
Chapter word count: 2.9k
Chapter 1
Chapter 2 - The White Horse
Esme's boss, Peter, grumbled about the dogs, but Esme knew he couldn't help but melt a little at the sight of the puppies crowding around their mum. She pointed out that they couldn't be moved yet due to the puppies' young age and the mum's broken leg, and promised to take responsibility for them. In the end, Peter agreed to let the dogs stay. Sometimes, there were certain advantages to working for a small business.
The next night, Esme settled down for another quiet shift. Monty had gone home, but now there were the dogs to command her attention. The puppies were settling in nicely, but the mum, whom Esme had decided to call Angua, remained slightly wary and still gave a soft growl when Esme reached into the crate. "Relax," Esme told her while checking her bandages one last time before turning out the light. "We got you and your babies here safe and sound, didn't we?" She wondered if Billy would want to know how the dogs were doing, and realized, rather wistfully, that she didn't have any way of contacting him.
There was a buzz from the front desk. Esme poked her head out and saw Billy shuffling by the door, a bag of dog treats in his hand. The sight of him made her heart jump pleasantly, though she didn't quite know why.
"I just want to see how the dogs are doing," he said shyly, as if he could read her thought. "And to give the mum this." He held out the bag of treats. "I checked, it's for nursing dogs," he added.
"That's so thoughtful, thank you." She moved to take the treats from him, but something about his timid stance tugged at her heart, and she opened the door wider. "Would you like to see them?"
His face brightened up, but he still seemed unsure. "I don't want to bother—"
"It's no bother. It's a very slow night anyway."
She led him into the back, where the kennels were. Angua started wagging her tail lightly upon seeing Billy. "Oh, would you look at that?" Esme said, pretending to be offended. "I feed and clean you and you still growl at me, but he comes with treats and he gets a tail wag? I'm joking," she quickly added, noticing Billy's fluster. "I think it's sweet that she remembers you, really."
"May I?" He gestured to the kennel. Esme nodded, so he sat down on the floor and put a finger through the bars, giving first the mum, then each of the puppies, a gentle stroke. "Do they have names yet?" he asked.
"I've been calling the mum Angua," Esme said.
"Angua?"
"It's from Discworld—it's from a series of fantasy novels," she explained. She wasn't going to bore him by launching into a long-winded speech about her hobby, so she opted for the heavily abridged version. "Angua's a werewolf. And a police officer. She's very tough and practical, but nice too. Though she still chases the occasional chicken in her wolf form," she couldn't stop herself from adding.
"Oh." He seemed to be mulling over the name while still stroking the dog. "That suits her."
"Yeah. Look-wise, she's more of a Gaspode, but personality-wise, she's Angua for sure." Billy looked at her, confused, and Esme gave a little embarrassed laugh. "Sorry. It's from the books again. Gaspode's a stray dog."
"What about the puppies?"
"I haven't decided yet. Maybe you can adopt one, when they're old enough, and name it yourself," Esme suggests.
"I've always wanted a dog," he replied, his voice quiet, almost as if he was talking to himself. "But my landlord doesn't allow pets."
"That's a pity." She sat down next to him and put her hand in to pet the dogs as well. Her fingers brushed against his for a second, before she pulled away. "Well, you can visit as long as they're here."
And so he did. For the next week, Billy showed up every night, staying for a few minutes to give Angua a treat and pet the puppies. There were nights he caught Esme in an actual emergency and she could only wave at him before running off again, but if she wasn't doing anything, she would invite him to stay longer and join her for a cup of tea. He accepted these invitations readily enough, though he remained shy and reticent around her, even if he was no longer jumpy as he had been the day he brought Angua in. After a week, all Esme found out was that he worked the evening shifts at the nearby Asda and that the clinic was on his way home.
Then a strange incident occurred.
Billy had dropped in to visit the dogs as usual. The puppies' eyes had opened now and Esme would sometimes let them out of the kennel to play. When she came back from the kitchenette with the tea, she found them tumbling on the floor by Billy's feet, under Angua's watchful but content supervision. They had really taken to him. And he seemed calmer around them too, smiling and playing with them without that nervous, timid look he often had when talking to Esme.
She leaned down to give Billy his mug. The movement caused her necklace to fall out of her shirt. Billy caught sight of it, and his face blanched.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing at it, his tea forgotten.
"Oh, it's my White Horse necklace." She pulled it out to show it to him more clearly. It's a silver pendant in the shape of a horse, or, more exactly, the carving of a horse, a present from her mum two years ago. "It's also from those books I told you about. It's based on the Uffington White Horse—"
A shocking change came over Billy. His huge eyes popped out of his pale face like he had just seen a ghost, he started shivering uncontrollably, and his right hand flew to his nose then his chest in a strange, compulsive movement, again and again, until he gripped it with his left, seemingly with an enormous effort, to still it. "Gotta go," he mumbled and scrambled to his feet.
"What—" Esme began, but he was out of the door before she could finish her sentence.
Esme's turn on the night shift rotation ended that week, and she had her day off right after, so she didn't get a chance to see Billy again and ask him what had happened that night. With a pang, she realized that she'd neglected to tell him she wasn't working the night shift for another week. She wondered whether he would come back if she was not there. Don't be silly, of course he would. He comes to see the dogs, not you. Then she wondered why she even bothered thinking about it. She didn't know him at all.
That morning, as Esme pulled up on her bicycle behind the clinic, she ran into her co-worker, Dianne, who was just leaving. They exchanged pleasantries, though Esme could see that Dianne was not happy about having to take the night shift. In Dianne's mind, Esme should have the night shift because she lived close by, because she was the youngest member of the team, because she was single, because she had no kids, because, because, because. Esme knew that if Dianne had her way, she would saddle Esme all the night shifts. And all the day shifts too, if possible.
"Oh and by the way, Essie, if I were you, I would be careful about who I let into the clinic during the night," Dianne said, as she was getting into her car. Esme winced. Dianne called everyone by some personal nickname, thinking it made her appear friendlier, without ever asking if they like the nicknames or not. "Essie" was close enough to her name that Esme didn't mind too much, though she itched to tell Dianne that her name was short for Esmeralda, while Essie was usually short for Esther. If she did, Dianne would probably look at her like she'd sprouted another head.
"Why, what's happened?" Esme asked, locking up the bike. She wasn't really interested in a lecture about safety from Dianne, who regularly forgot to bolt the kennels at night.
"Some bloke came round last night, asking for you. Looked sketchy as hell."
Esme lifted her head. "Did he say what his name was?"
"No. And I didn't ask."
"What does he look like?"
"I don't know, I wasn't paying attention." Dianne's nostrils flared in annoyance at Esme's questions. Bet she wishes she didn't bring this up in the first place. "Pale skin, dark hair. Twitchy. Probably a druggie. Said he wanted to see the dogs, but I told him I'd call the police, so he took off."
Dianne actually looked smug. Esme had to remind herself that no one else at the clinic knew Billy—though, technically speaking, neither did she—so Dianne's reaction was understandable. But would it kill the woman to have a little compassion? "I'll keep that in mind, thank you," she said coldly and went inside.
During her lunch break, she took her bike to Asda. She had no idea what time their evening shift started, but perhaps she could leave him a message. Weaving her way through the crowd of lunchtime shoppers, she managed to find who looked like a supervisor, an older woman with wiry, pewter-colored hair, watching a young man while he filled the shelves.
"Excuse me, sorry to bother you, but is Billy here?" Esme asked the supervisor.
They both turned to her, but it was the young man that spoke first. "Billy Knight? What does a pretty girl like you want with that weirdo?" he said. Spots were erupting all over his face, making it look like a lava field. Esme had to bite back a snippy remark.
"Be quiet, Liam," the supervisor said. She turned to Esme. "He's not in any kind of trouble, is he?"
"Oh no," Esme quickly replied. "I'm a vet. He brought a dog to our clinic, and I just want to talk to him about it, that's all."
The supervisor relaxed. "He's not scheduled to come in today," she said. Seeing Esme deflate, she added, "I believe he apprentices a few days a week at that woodworking studio by the wharf. You can ask there."
Esme thanked her. As she rode her bike down the river, she asked herself again why she had to bother so much. It certainly didn't matter to her whether Billy came back to the clinic or not. She enjoyed his visits, but it was just something to break up the monotony of the night, nothing more. Except... except that she could tell it matters to him, the time he spent with the dogs, the shy few words he exchanged with her. And she hated for him to think he was unwelcomed.
She found the studio quite easily. Even before she saw it, a trail of wood shavings and sawdust had led her to the piles of timber stacked outside, and she was greeted by a contradictory mix of the warm, sweet, relaxing scent of wood and a constant roaring and thudding of table saws and chisels and hammers. She asked for Billy from a man with a red face and a magnificent white beard, looking like Father Christmas on holiday. He turned around and bellowed "Billy!!!" over the noise, then tipped Esme a wink and ambled inside. A minute later, Billy emerged, stripping off a pair of gloves and goggles and brushing the sawdust from his hair, blinking at her in surprise.
"How'd you find me?" he said. There it was again, that brief look of fear and distrust.
"I asked your supervisor at Asda," Esme said. Recognizing how that sounded, she added, "I'm sorry, I hope I'm not overstepping, but—"
"—'s alright—"
"—I just want to apologize about last night. My colleague didn't know you were—she wasn't really going to—I'm sorry I didn't—you're welcome to stop by any time..." She realized she was rambling now, so her voice trailed off, and they stood looking at each other, both tongue-tied. Esme thought about telling him to come back next week, when she would be working, but a voice in her head, compiled from countless articles she's read about the dangers of being a single woman in modern society, told her this might be a bad idea. Sure, let's tell the strange man whom you barely know where he can find you alone, at night...
Eventually, Billy spoke up. "How're the dogs?"
"They're fine. Angua misses the treats though." He gave her another one of his uncertain smiles, which came and went like the beam of a lighthouse. That smile convinced Esme. "It's my turn on the night shift again next week," she said. "You can stop by then."
His face relaxed. "Thank you," he said.
Esme started wheeling her bike around, when Billy called out to her, in a small voice, "Esme?" He had never called her by name before. It sounded nice.
She turned around expectantly.
"I'm sorry for running off the other night," he said. "The White Horse—" His hand twitched to his nose again, but he stopped it in time and turned it into a wiping motion instead. He took a breath. "I grew up near there. Lots of—bad memories."
Esme nodded, though she didn't quite understand. "It's alright," she replied. "I'll see you again then." But she tucked the necklace more securely into her shirt and made a mental note to not have it visible while he was around.
Esme's phone buzzed while she was in the kitchenette, but her hands were full of bread and cheese. Billy was stopping by, and she wanted to offer him something more substantial with his tea than just biscuits. He didn't look like he had enough to eat, yet he was always so embarrassed and hesitant about taking food. I'll just tell him that I accidentally made too many sandwiches for my midnight snack, she decided, as she cut the sandwiches into perfect triangles.
The phone buzzed again. Annoyed, Esme wiped her hand and pulled the phone out of her pocket. There was a string of texts from an unknown number. She glanced at them, and her heart jerked as if it had been electrocuted.
Hey love, it's Neil
Pls don't block this number as well
Can we talk? I've made a terrible mistake—
The rest of the text became a blur as hot tears sprang to her eyes. Bastard! He decided she was suffocating him, that the relationship wasn't working, and now, nearly seven months later (and who's counting anyway?), suddenly he'd made a mistake? She wiped away the tears as soon as they came, angry at herself for crying. He hadn't deserved her tears when he cheated on her, and he certainly didn't deserve her tears now.
She picked up the plate of sandwiches, stalked out, and almost ran into Billy. He noticed her red-rimmed eyes, and concern etched across his face. "Something wrong?" he asked.
"No, nothing's wrong," she said. "I'm just—" Her phone rang shrilly, cutting her off. The same unknown number. Shit. Must've forgotten to block it. The ringtone grated on her nerves, and the red haze of anger dried her tears almost instantly. Without thinking, she pressed "answer" and shouted into the phone, "Stop trying to contact me, you cheating bastard!" Then she hung up, making sure to hit "block" this time, and lifted her head to meet Billy's alarmed stare.
"Sorry about that," she said with a self-conscious laugh. "I sometimes wish we still used landlines, don't you? It would've been so much more satisfying to be able to slam the receiver down, instead of just hanging up and blocking." She wiped her eyes furiously into her sleeve and proffered Billy the sandwiches. "Cheese and onion?"
He took a sandwich, still looking thoughtful, and followed her into the kennel, which for once was actually full. While Esme busied herself checking the other patients, he settled down to play with Angua and the pups as usual, but she could feel his eyes on her, watching her as he tried to understand. When she returned from the cat room, he suddenly said, apropos of nothing, "It's easier with animals, isn't it?"
She looked at him, puzzled.
"Not like people," he clarified. "Animals can't lie or hurt you. Well, they can hurt you, but only physically."
Esme was stunned. Billy was giving her a small smile, but his eyes were elsewhere, looking at something only he could see, or perhaps looking inside himself. She wondered what had happened to him, and whether it had anything to do with the "bad memories" he mentioned. But she didn't want to be nosy.
"That's one of the reasons I became a vet, actually," she said, sitting down next to him. "You always know where you are with animals."
His eyes returned to her then, with a spark of mutual understanding, and they sat there quietly, shoulder to shoulder, while the puppies yapped and gamboled at their feet.
Chapter 3
Taglist: @quinnypixie, @accidentalslag, @etherealglimmer
#billy knight#billy knight strike#cb strike#billy knight fic#billy knight x ofc#joseph quinn#joseph quinn fic#joseph quinn character
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Hugh McKenzie, The steam tug Minnesota breaking ice between two unidentified freighters (c. 1915)
Launched in 1911, the 71-foot steam tug Minnesota was built in Cleveland, Ohio by the shipyard of the Great Lakes Towing Co., with her first engine lifted from the 1870 steam barge Belle P. Cross.
image and abridged text from here
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Dear anon who’s on about transfem Grian scar sews her wedding dress: sfw pt1
I’m so enamoured with the concept! And u didn’t even mention what I would consider to be one of the most letter spam worthy parts
Going to a custom seamstress/ster can be a very boring process, because you have to stand there while they tug fabric around u and pin it in place and all that
This wouldn’t be an issue for scarian obviously, they spend the whole time chatting and joking around, both pre n during relationship.
Grian trying to stand still as Scar works on pinning the fabric around her torso, which would usually make her insecure and hyper aware. but scar keeps cracking jokes that make Grian laugh so hard the pins are coming out. Which makes scar have to start the process over.
And I can’t help but imagine whatever scars saying is one of those things that puts Grian in hysterics. Yk the kind of giggly where when she finally calms down, if she and scar make eye contact or scar makes any sort of noise she loses it again.
Scars trying to be professional, but he’s also suppressing the urge to cackle along with her. He’s also failing. Which makes it even harder to ensure his hands don’t shake as he marks n measures the fabric and installs the pins.
On one hand, they should probably just try doing this another day, when they’re not giggly. But on the other, this is a semi regular occurrence that they find themselves dealing with, if they put it off every time, Grian would never have any nice clothes!
Also, getting custom clothes is expensive, so I raise u: the watchers are a super rich company that Grian is the child of the ceos. They do they’re best to be support of her and of her relationships, but, well, they’re not good with their child’s emotions. Probably because they mainly hired Nannies for them their entire childhood and were just generally never around, and when they were, they only ever talked about work or Grians academics. Until a teenage Grian painted his bedroom one day out of the blue, they probably didn’t even know his favorite color. Sooooo, Grians got a very complicated relationship with them
— abridged anon
IM OBBESSED WITH THE IDEA OF GRIAN BEING A CHILD OF SOME BIG COMPANY CEO "The Watchers"
OUGH she just, has a pretty strained relationship with them- but ykno.. it allows her to go out and do things she wants to do! and be happy! (IE: Meeting Scar)
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Ninja Daily: AIC 37
The Kiri delegation arrived at the boundary outside the Fire Daimyo's palace in the middle of a downpour. Gaara stoically endured the change from sunshine to rain. Utakata tossed his hand up to use his sleeve to shield his hair, lip curling in distaste.
Aiko made deliberate eye contact with a drenched man who was vaguely familiar. He was at the head of a small group of armed men who looked like a mix of samurai and shinobi.
"Mizukage-sama," he greeted. "We are honored by your presence." He dropped into a perfectly respectful bow which inadvertently flashed the bald spot on the top of his head. It was quite shiny and showed that his head had a lump.
"Ask him why his head is misshapen," Sanbi urged.
"Fumi-san," Aiko said instead, feeling relatively certain that this was the highest samurai retainer in Fire Country. She had once escorted his family to the capital for a visit, years and a dimension back. "Thank you for coming out to escort us. Shall we?"
Utakata gave her a look. It was a positive one, probably based on his extremely incorrect assumption that she had studied important persons before coming in order to make a good impression.
The walk to the palace itself took about 15 minutes, though the tour of the gardens was somewhat abridged due to weather. Given the damp circumstances, they were led to a guest area and given some time to refresh themselves before their meeting. One of the attendants broke off to drop into a deep bow outside the room. He was still there when the door closed, despite the rest of Fire Country's representatives trailing away.
Utakata immediately went to the restroom and began examining the provided beauty supplies. Aiko gave him a fond smile and tugged a towel off the rack in order to pat at her own hair. She then used the same towel on Gaara, who bore the attention with a resigned sort of grace. While Utakata experimentally rubbed a high grade of camellia oil between his hands to warm it up, Aiko finger-combed her bangs to lay straight and checked that her clothes looked fine.
By the standards of any court, she was wildly underdressed. She considered, not for the first time, if she should put on some armor or a kimono. Either intimidation or beauty, one or the other would convey the gravitas of her station a bit better.
'I should add more of that type of thing to my wardrobe,' Aiko mused. She pursed her lips and looked away from the woman in the mirror, dissatisfied. She was pretty enough, but the reflection didn't convey power and authority by any metric. Aiko's hair was neat enough, but totally plain. She had a pale, drawn face and was clearly a little underweight. Her outfit was fine as a signature look and for an easy transition from the office to the battlefield, but it didn't do her any favors when dealing with civilian royalty.
Maybe a combination would be a good idea. Some type of visible armor combined with a pretty kimono, to show both status and her position.
But for now, she was what she was, since she wasn't willing to take 3 hours trying to put a kimono on by herself and she hadn't brought one, anyway.
She tossed her hair back and strode towards the door. "I guess we're pretty enough, let's go. I'm sure the Daimyo and his court won't be judgmental elitists or anything," Aiko said dryly.
Utakata covered his mouth with his sleeve. He didn't answer, but his eyes betrayed that he was amused as he fell in line.
The attendant was still waiting directly outside. He bowed nearly to his knees and then rushed to stay ahead of Aiko, guiding her with a strange, servile sort of hobbling mien.
It didn't take long to reach their destination. The room was large, at least 30 mats, with lines of cushions burdened with courtiers. The Daimyo himself was at the head of the room, flanked by someone she should probably recognize on his left and his wife on his right. The Daimyo's receiving area was open to the air, with a view of a pond. She looked long enough to see a turtle bob up to peer inquisitively at the gray sky before Aiko turned her attention to business.
"Hi-Kuni no Daimyo-sama," she greeted. She placed her fingers on the floor in front of her cushion and bowed low. "This one is honored by the invitation and most gracious welcome. Gray skies cannot cloud the beauty of Hi Kuni."
She could almost sense Utakata's incredulity, but she couldn't see him. He and Gaara were seated behind her, on the bare floor.
"Kiri no Mizukage-sama," he said in return. His bow was equally deep. She felt a spark of relief and satisfaction that she was apparently on equal terms, despite civilian distaste for the burakumin. "This one thanks you for your travels far from your ocean."
They went back and forth with the mandatory pleasantries, until they could sit back and let the Daimyo's Minister of Finance bring up the bounty and Orochimaru. It would have been gauche for her to seem to ask for money, and it was below the Daimyo to speak of coin. The conversation was bland and proper, and they had quickly managed to confirm that the promise still held and that Fire Country would be eternally grateful for her service.
That put Aiko's hackles up a little bit. She didn't like the implication of 'service' in this context. She was not a- okay, yes, she was a citizen of Fire Country and had sworn to serve it, but they had no idea about that. They only knew her as a foreign warlord.
She let it go, however, and let the Minister of Finance escort her out, where they could have a more candid discussion that involved numbers and bank routing.
'Money, money, money.'
She tried not to look too smug. This would more than make up for the income lost through giving up her drug running. Well. 6 months of it, anyway, and it was a good trade off effort-wise. Killing Orochimaru was a one-time affair.
...She crossed her fingers.
"Do you have reason to believe he might return?"
'No,' Aiko had to admit. 'Except that it would be really awful and inconvenient and rude, so I think it sounds like classic Orochimaru.'
Sanbi gave a doubtful little hum. "In that case, perhaps any follow-up murdering should be done by another party. Your itinerary is very full."
'It's not murder,' Aiko thought defensively.
"Why not?"
...It was murder. She felt her lips flatten into a thin line. 'The word 'murder' makes killing people sound so unpleasant. Don't be gauche.'
"-zukage-sama."
She jerked back to attention, although the Minister didn't seem to have noticed her inattention. They had arrived at an elegant little office, where a glossy table of pale wood was waiting with neat piles of paperwork and thick seating cushions. She inclined her head slightly and swept in to take her seat first, hovering for a moment to be sure she'd guessed right before gracefully folding her legs.
They went through some more pleasantries, and then Aiko gestured for Utakata to give an envelope to the Minister. The men exchanged it with careful bows and both hands in an elegant dance of social nicety. Aiko wondered if she looked half that graceful, and then decided that she probably did not.
The envelope had their routing number discreetly at the end of a flowery letter designed to distract from the routing number, even though the financial information was the only information being conveyed. It wouldn't have been very elegant to show up with a photocopy of page 1 of their bank book.
"There is one small matter of curiousity." The Minister said, as though it had just occurred to him and was not a mandated topic.
Aiko made a politely interested face and tilted her head slightly. "Yes, Nagase-san?"
"The encounter with the criminal was in Rice Country, was it not?" The man had a carefully neutral tone.
"That's true," Aiko confirmed.
"I see." He gave a little bow. "Forgive my impertinence in asking, but we were under the impression that Orochimaru-san had been using property in Fire Country."
...She tried not to stare. "I believe that he used some facilities in Fire Country," Aiko confirmed.
'Did they know he was still operating in their borders? Or did Konoha mention it?'
"This is grave news indeed," Nagase intoned. "The idea that such a dangerous person was operating within our sovereign country is of great concern to the Daimyo. Can you detail these locations?"
"Why would they ask you this?" Sanbi put an unflattering amount of stress on that question. "Shouldn't they communicate with their kage?"
'I don't appreciate that tone, but you're right.'
"I'm sorry to say that I no longer have the necessary details," Aiko lied gracefully. She allowed her tone to sound apologetic. "I found some information in Rice Country, and passed it into Konohagakure's care. I am certain that they will communicate further with the office of the Daimyo."
Whatever was going on, she was not getting in the middle of it.
"Of course," he said, and she had the distinct impression that he did not believe she had not memorized the information, which was rude and correct. "As foreigners cannot possess property in Fire Country, there would be no reason for you to be concerned with the details." He gave her a thin smile.
She had to work to not react to that provocative wording. There was no way that wasn't a thinly-veiled jab against what the Daimyo apparently believed were her home ownership ambitions in Fire Country.
Whatever. She wasn't here to make friends, she was here to collect on a bill. So she tried to smooth it over and correct that impression. "What an interesting policy," Aiko said diplomatically. "I can see the utility of ensuring that foreign nationals do not buy homes and farmland that locals need. In fact, Kirigakure does not allow non-citizens to obtain property in the capital without applying for approval."
Nagase nodded. "One of many benefits. Fire Country has many cultural and natural resources to protect. Diluting our citizenry with outside influence would harm our heritage. We have a very thorough policy to discourage economically motivated migration. Only natural-born citizens may own and sell property in Fire Country."
Her smile felt a bit strained. That sounded a lot like he thought keeping non-citizens out was inherently good. Which rubbed her the wrong way.
"That sounds bigoted," Sanbi said, intrigued. "Correct?"
'Yeah, that's fucked up. If somebody resides, pays taxes, and obeys the law, I don't see why their country of origin should matter.'
"Is that so?" Aiko asked, in mild disbelief. "The Land of Fire forbids sale and property ownership to naturalized citizens?"
If they had said it would be awkward for a foreign political leader to possess land, that would have made some sense. Nobody wanted foreign warlords making sneaky inroads. And nobody trusted her in particular, for gross anti-Kiri reasoning.
"In the interest of fairness, you have stolen a neighboring country."
Aiko nobly pretended not to hear Sanbi's gross mischaracterization of her involvement of the extremely minor details in the change of management of Wave Country.
Nagase had nodded, as if this was a totally uncontroversial policy. "Fire Country has a storied history. To protect it, property rights are restricted to those who can trace their ancestry within our borders."
Aiko narrowed her eyes, just a bit. Wow, a category that Aiko belonged to. What a tragic legal coincidence.
Gaara, who was currently residing in a foreign country in an apprenticeship, frowned. He was probably well-aware that Kirigakure did not have that restriction.
Nagase's eyes darted to Gaara, and then away. He began to sweat a little. It was a little late to read the air and realize he'd annoyed his guests.
"Oh, so it's even worse," Sanbi said in a tone of realization. "Immigrants cannot own property at all even after gaining citizenship. I wonder how many generations this policy applies to."
'I'm lowkey offended that my home country has worse property regulations than Kiri.'
Aiko blinked and nodded, forcing mild interest onto her face. "Of course," she murmured. "The preservation of local culture is an invaluable pursuit."
"Really?" Sanbi asked.
'I'm going to spite them, I'm throwing him off my scent.'
Sanbi made a relieved sound.
That lack of faith was mildly insulting. Of course she was going to fuck these people over. Sanbi was right, though, that it would be an absolute nightmare if she tried to have a second home in Fire Country. Daughter of a Hokage or not, she was still a foreign military leader of a historically hostile nation.
"I believe you shall find a way to make them regret this ill-considered policy. Inspiring regret and misfortune is your personal calling," Sanbi said.
He was definitely provoking her. She tossed her hair and focused on the rest of the discussion, which was cautiously bland and ended with a guarantee for a transfer by the end of the business day. They went back to their rooms. She went into the bathroom and washed her hands, and then went to Wave Country to meet with the pencil queen.
Shimizu-sama had prepared notes and a table, with hot tea waiting. "Mizukage-sama, thank you for your valuable time," she said. It was brisk and polite.
"Excuse my rudeness," Aiko said, stepping up onto the tatami and sitting at the waiting spot. "Was your escort agreeable?"
"There were more casualties than anticipated, particularly a very large quantity of small and hungry fish." The older woman glanced up and took a sip of her own tea. "However, there were no significant inconveniences and we made excellent time. Perhaps I have even arranged a political marriage for my daughter which would be advantageous."
Aiko waited a moment for the punchline of that strange joke. But Shimizu appeared to be serious.
...fish? Her chuunin darlings had gone from the Shimizu family home to the capital city of Wave and racked up a significant marine body count?
Aiko opened her mouth to ask. She closed it again. There wasn't time for that. "I am honored by your kind words," she went with. "As for the day's business, if we might be so gauche as to go directly to business."
"We may," Shimizu agreed. "The Daimyo is ill recently."
"That's deeply unfortunate," said Aiko, who had not personally poisoned any Daimyo to make him suspicious of his potential successors, and definitely didn't suspect anything from her civilian allies. "In such times, the guidance of one's family and trusted advisors is paramount."
"Of course," Shimizu agreed. "Wave is blessed by the wise guidance of many senior officials. In order to deal with these trying times, there has been some administrative changes to best utilize everyone's talents."
"A clever idea," Aiko said politely.
"I cannot help but think that certain courtiers who now have lessened duties but possess much experience might be significant assets. It is a shame that their considerable abilities are not being utilized."
"Oh," said Aiko, as if she had not expected this. "I am lacking in leadership. Perhaps I could request some personnel from the Daimyo. It would be an honor to host such august persons."
"What a lovely idea," Shimizu said. She had a sharp little smile, just for a moment. "I can think of some people whose expertise would be a great benefit to Kirigakure."
"Joint administration between Wave and Kirigakure could only benefit our countries," said Aiko, who was planning to give exactly zero influence to displaced nobility being shunted away from court where they might interfere with the change in administration. It was mildly insulting to be used as the desolate island political banishment site, but it was also funny and she appreciated that. The tourism slogan "Kirigakure, where dreams come to die," had a kind of ring to it.
"How should I make contact regarding this issue?"
"It would be easy for the Daimyo to make this decision, were you to request personnel." Shimizu poured another steaming cup of tea. "I suggest that you contact his representative Bara Nodoko, and request certain types of experts. It might even be an honor if you were to request them by name."
"Oh, can you provide names?" Aiko asked idly. "With my poor familiarity with the political situation, I would hate to make mistakes."
Shimizu gave a nice little nod. "By chance, I can," she said. "Through extreme good luck, I happen to have a written list of courtiers here. If I might make notes by certain names..."
"Please do," Aiko said, and drank her second cup of tea. "I'll be certain to let the Daimyo know who passed such interesting information to my students." Once she had her neat little list of people who Shimizu wanted out of the capital and away from any influence, Aiko went back to Fire Country and got ready for bed.
They got up hideously early for breakfast. Aiko recieved a tray that contained several polite notes and a copy of a completed bank transfer form. After they collected their things from their rooms, they were politely escorted back to the border of Fire Country. Aiko let her escorts touch either arm, and hiraishin'd them away.
"Aiko-sama," Utakata said slowly. He took his hand away and frowned at their surroundings. "This is not your office."
"It isn't," Aiko agreed. She watched the person sitting in reception make eye contact and turn white behind her glasses. "It's city hall in a little farming town outside of Konohagakure." She patted Gaara's hand and then pulled away.
"Why?" Utakata said flatly.
"I need to do some paperwork," Aiko said sensibly. "Why else would I be here?"
Gaara, who caught on fast, tilted his head. "Is this the town closest to the base where Orochimaru had been doing business?"
"It is," Aiko agreed. She flashed him a smile and stepped forward towards the reception desk. The woman sitting behind it adjusted her neat blue neckerchief as if it was armor. "I need to put in a property ownership claim."
"Foreign residents can't own property in Fire Country," Gaara said, as if she might have forgotten.
She shook her head. "He didn't say a thing about native-born citizens who live abroad."
"A critical error in judgment," Utakata said flatly.
"You love me," Aiko reminded him. She turned to the woman behind the desk, who was stone-still and very professional-looking. "Hello, I'm here to enquire about a property outside of town, about 8km to the west. It was previously owned by Orochimaru-san, who forfeited his ownership to me when I collected on the bounty for his capture or neutralization."
"Please take a number," the city hall employee said, on professional reflex. She appeared to immediately regret it, flushing slightly red. But she didn't back down, either.
Aiko gave her a slight frown and leaned over slightly to pull a numbered ticket. It said 3. The office appeared to be empty, but… she could take a seat, if that was appropriate? She took a step back.
The light above the desk dinged.
The worker looked at her screen. It lit up the faint hint of forming crow's lines outside her eyes. "Number 3," she called. "I can see you now at desk number 1."
Aiko could not help but glance around to confirm what she already knew.
'There is only one desk in this room.'
But the only desk in the room did have a big black 1 painted on the front, so Aiko took one step forward. "I'm here to ask about the title for a piece of land in this jurisdiction."
The woman glanced at Aiko, Utakata, and then tilted her head down to look at Gaara. Her steely demeanor faltered at whatever she saw on him. "Ano…" She swallowed, and seemed to recover her nerve. "Do you happen to have the exact address? I'll need to get the records."
Aiko rattled it off, and the woman wrote it on a note. She gave them a professional, if slightly strained smile, and invited them to have a seat while she excused herself to the archives.
The chair creaked when Aiko sat down. It was the only sound other than heel clicks fading into the distance.
"Why would you want this land?" Gaara asked.
"Spite." Utakata took a seat without a sound.
"No," Gaara dismissed. His bangs flopped in front of his face when he shook his head. "If this was merely spite, she would exercise her pettiness in a more convenient way. I suspect there will be profit. Maliciousness alone is too impractical to inspire the decision to claim the property. It would be a diplomatic nightmare for Aiko-shishou to possess a second home so close to another nation's capital."
"Crimetown," Aiko said absently.
Utakata repeated that far too loudly. She gave him a scolding look, because really, he should know to behave better in public.
"You will sell the compound quickly, then," Gaara confirmed.
Aiko winked at him. "Yes. To whom?"
A line formed between his lack of eyebrows. He stared at her. He was probably compiling everything he knew about her and who she might know with Fire Country citizenship. "You don't have a specific buyer yet," he said slowly. "Your candidates…" He looked scandalized.
"Crimetown," Aiko repeated cheerfully. This time Gaara clearly understood that she was making a proposal, not slandering Konoha.
He sighed heavily and looked at the ceiling.
"Surely you know some Fire Country citizens in good standing, of strong moral character, who would be good contacts for Kirigakure and not cause any trouble or scandal," Utakata said. He might have been pleading.
"Yes, many," Aiko agreed. "But I don't want to sell to any of them. I want to create crimetown smack in the middle of Konoha and the capital and make sure they can't do anything about it."
"One reasonable person," Utakata said. He was definitely begging. "Someone analogous to Shimizu-sama, for example."
"I know a narcotics dealer who has pet tigers," Aiko said idly. "He could use a nice big space for a big cat sanctuary."
"Someone corrupt, among the nobility," Utakata switched tacts. "We can find someone who has financial need, fading status, and exchange goodwill for farmland that will revive their prospects."
"Could be a full zoo, actually," Aiko mused. "That would provide a really good explanation about all the people who stay there, and people who come to see the animals would make it easier to visit discreetly on other business."
"Number 3, I can see you at desk 1."
Aiko stood and sauntered back to the desk. The same woman was there, with a photocopied piece of paper and a small folder.
"Here is the requested information," she said. Aiko took it when it was extended. "If this paperwork is properly filled out we can file your request."
Aiko eyed her.
The office worker, who was not interested in telling the Mizukage that she could not buy a nightmare factory nearby, met her gaze fairly steadily. "It's all included," she said. "Is there anything else?"
"Yes, I'd also like the form to register a bill of sale, and contact information for some local Notaries Public that your office recommends." Aiko played idly with the pen tied to the desk. "I'd also like information about registering townships."
Utakata sighed loudly.
The older woman didn't even blink, much less prevaricate. Those documents were obtained readily from a filing cabinet under the desk that was probably full of all sorts of blank documents.
Aiko pursed her lips once more as these were handed to her without a hint of commentary or hesitation.
This 30-something year old clerk really wasn't going to say a damn thing about a foreign military dictator in her office asking for paperwork it was legally impossible for her to fill out, as far as any reasonable person would guess. Not a word. She hadn't let on that she recognized any of them, despite their headbands and fairly distinctive appearances. Aiko had fully expected her to get her supervisor, at least.
"I respect you," Aiko said. "Keep up the good work." And then she nodded and left, taking the time to make sure her coat flared behind her.
#vapors#uzumaki aiko#electrasev5n#ninja daily#fanfiction#naruto fanfiction#clarity#AIC#Aiko in Canon
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wip weekend except i haven't posted anything in weeks and now it's everyone's problem
this one is part of a currently... 31k Mando S3 rewrite where I'm being self indulgent in my ships because frankly it's my fic and i'll do what i please! the ship relevant to this particular snippet is pazdin but -
it's canon divergent, meaning that Moff Gideon fucking died, and there's in-story reasons as to why Luke's ended up vibing with the Mandos, there's a different big bad at the end of the season, it's fine dwbi there's nothing dangerous here :)))
this snippet covers Paz and Din having a tender moment, followed by Bo-Katan telling the story [ very abridged ] of how Din came to have the Darksaber. To a bunch of kids and adults sitting around a fire. Because I needed exposition about how Gideon died lmao
it's about? 2,770 words in length
To see Paz and Din at ease once more rather than at each other’s throats was wonderful by itself, but she quickly realized there was more to their motion than simple affection. She leaned slightly to tug the attention of the princess to the pair who stood nearly on the border of the firelight and discreetly pointed to where the two men had crossed their wrists together between them. They faced opposite directions yet made no attempt to move away from each other, each visor fixated directly on the gaze of the other.
She straightened up as she observed her beroya and cabur, the two men who had known each other as if they had never once been parted. Where others saw conflict, she knew well that there was only respect and love; they treated each other with the harshness they knew they could handle. They existed in tandem, each doing what the other never could.
“Watch,” she instructed softly. “You asked what I meant when I told you they loved each other, so watch.”
With the tender moment came quiet attention from those nearest to them, though the new arrivals seemed to be just as curious as the princess beside her. She watched as the two men slipped their wrists down to clasp their hands together, then as Paz lifted the beroya’s hand to the crown of his helm. Twenty years ago, this may have been a dance with paces too quick to track; tonight, it was two men taking slow and even steps in a circle in the sand.
As if not a day had passed since they had parted.
The shadows that flickered along the desert sand were united as though they were one being. Din leaned forward to rest his head on their joined hands, the silver and blue of their helms acting as lovely complements in the light, and Paz lifted his hand to rest on Din’s shoulder as the two stopped where they stood. She could see them shift just enough in the sand to face each other and their lack of weaponry became evident to her.
After a moment, the beroya touched his kar’ta beskar with his free hand before he placed that same hand against the heart of Paz’s armor, and something shifted in the warriors who were paying attention. Anyone familiar with their tradition knew that it was an act of penitence to do such a thing, an apology from the soul itself that could not be put to words. It was a sincere gesture given only when one accepted full ownership of the past.
And even a fool could understand the forgiveness shown in how Paz reciprocated the gesture. They barely seemed to breathe as they removed their hands from each other’s chests and lowered their clasped hands without releasing them. When they pressed their helms together, a soft murmur of approval filtered through the attentive warriors as they turned away and gave the men the appropriate privacy.
“I thought they were at odds,” Bo-Katan confessed quietly as she took her eyes off the two men. “Why the apology? And why so public?”
“Din became a product of what he endured during the Imperial reign.” The Armorer spoke softly as she kept her eyes on the two boys she had watched since their youth. They had settled into each other’s space and hadn’t tried to move away, and so she assumed that the moment was necessary. “I believe he sees himself as a crypt of things best left forgotten. As for the public display, I believe it is to show us that they do not need to be separated if they get into a fight again.”
Not that she wouldn't separate them if they gave her reason. She needed them able-bodied, and their physical combat had never been kind to either of them. Public apology or not, she knew they knew she would knock sense into their skulls if necessary.
The princess seemed to deflate slightly as her shoulders lost some of their tension. As she spoke, she shook her head with a soft laugh of bewilderment. “I’ll admit I thought he’d always been the way he is. I’ve asked around, heard the stories.”
“Stories?” That piqued her interest perhaps more than it should have and the way the woman reacted to her tone made her glad that she could not see the immediate shame. “I do not get the chance to hear stories of my warriors very often, and Djarin avoids the subject.”
“Yeah, stories. Not hard to find them, really.” Bo-Katan leaned back as she thought for a moment, a dim smile on her face as she watched the warriors mill about. “I heard one story about how he took it upon himself to annihilate an Imperial base by slipping in looking like one of them. How he slaughtered an Imperial sect alongside a Jedi I once knew well. Heard another about how he threw himself into the sky with nothing but a grappling hook and a blaster, hooked onto a TIE fighter, and blew the wing off before landing without a scratch. Another about how he supposedly took down an entire prison ship’s worth of droids on his own before getting double crossed, at which point he shoved the ones dragging his cloak into a cell themselves.”
The Armorer was quiet as she listened, her hands folded as she turned her head to watch the boy she had raised slowly rock in place with the man he had loved since childhood. He had never been one to speak on his own achievements, rather happy to allow the prestige of others to shadow him. There were a thousand things she could say, and yet-
“He destroyed an Imperial base?”
“Down to the foundation. According to the woman I heard it from, he did it to get the little one back, but I’d ask Fett for details.” The princess gave a small nod as she spoke, the silver strands in her copper hair shining in the firelight. “Not the first, not the last, I don’t think. I think he’d glass a planet if it meant he’d get that kid back. Took his helmet off for the little frog-eater.”
“He removed his helmet for the sake of the child.” Her heart sank to the core of her being. He’d never broken the Creed; he’d adhered to it in the most honorable way he could, and had chosen not to tell her.
“Right. Did he not tell you?” Bo-Katan tilted her head slightly as she asked her question, her attention now on the Armorer’s poised form. “That kid is why he has the Darksaber in the first place. Got a few friends to help him get on board a star cruiser, myself included, and then slaughtered anyone and anything that stood in his way. Beyond that, all the stories say the same thing; the man’s a phantom of death stained in Imperial blood.”
“And you can be certain they are true?”
“True as my heart beats, Armorer. I’ve seen his strength. I don’t doubt a single story I’ve heard.”
The princess sat upright as a child slipped past the skirts of a warrior, bright-eyed and fascinated with her. Another pair of children lingered behind the legs of the adults, and the Armorer realized that they were surrounded by keenly listening warriors and children alike. The one who had braved the approach folded their arms in a clumsy but well-meaning salute before they spoke.
“Can you tell the stories, alor?” Admiration was the only name that the Armorer could attribute to the way the child spoke. “Of the Mand’alor?”
“Well,” she started, then stopped. The princess followed the Armorer’s gaze and watched as the man in question moved indoors with his partner, apparently quite unaware of the goings-on. The older woman waited for a moment before she gave Bo-Katan a nod of approval, at which the warrior seemed to puff up considerably.
“I’ve heard many stories. He once slew a krayt dragon on Tatooine by leaping into the maw and allowing himself to be swallowed with explosives so he could trigger it from the inside,” the princess started as she waved one hand, and the excitement of the children around them grew. “From the stories I heard, he slew an entire clan of bandits and an assassin droid from the Empire to save that little one right over there. His foundling.”
Grogu cooed as if on cue from his cradle, his absurd ears perking up as he seemed to giggle with delight at the mention of his guardian’s achievement. The children seemed to laugh, several of them seeming to shift their attention to the child for a moment before the princess sighed softly. There was a certain weight to her shoulders as she pondered her next words.
“Let me tell you the story of how he took the Darksaber from a horrid demagolka and why he removed his helmet. The story that began his quest to return to Mandalore,” Bo-Katan began as she gestured for more children to come sit with her. “It’s the stuff of legend, really. I am honored to have fought beside him to see it.”
As if she had called to give them sweets, children emerged from behind the safety of their guardians to settle into a loose circle around where the princess sat beside the Armorer. Adults had shifted their attention to the two women and she could see that even Skywalker had turned his attention to the Kryze sister, who seemed surprised at the number of little eyes on her.
“Well, I suppose everyone would be curious, wouldn’t they,” the princess sighed as she leaned on her knees. “Din Djarin lost his foundling to the machinations of a man named Gideon, a Moff of the Empire. This man was cruel, the executor of the Night of a Thousand Tears, and had come across the Darksaber when I myself surrendered it to him in an attempt to stop the bombardment.”
There was a gasp from the children, and a collective discomfort for the warriors who knew of the Purge. Many of them had never known the surface, only the glassed remains of the planet that remained; a great number of them were converts or post-Purge foundlings, and so they too knew nothing of the planet they should call home. The fact that Bo-Katan was at least partially responsible was a painful truth, but a truth nonetheless.
Bo-Katan gave a slow, pensive nod as she continued. “I know little of what happened for Gideon to get his hands on Grogu, but I know that Djarin appeared in my presence with a deadly assassin and legendary bounty hunter. He intended to storm an Imperial cruiser with nothing but a beskar spear and the fury of a buir scorned, but had come to me for aid. In exchange, I asked for the cruiser, not knowing that the Darksaber was aboard.”
“You didn’t know?” One child’s voice was soft, barely audible from where she sat.
“Not a clue. I had thought Gideon destroyed the Darksaber to spite our traditions,” the princess confirmed. “I was not there when the fight began, but I arrived to the bridge that served as the arena midway through and sealed the doors behind me so no one could support the demagolka. I was quickly wounded and cast out from the fight beside the child. The Moff struck me in the hip with a dirty shot and promised that I would die that day once he was done with the beroya, that he would take the child and all we’d lost would be for nothing. The fool didn’t know who he fought.
“Din Djarin fought like the Manda itself had possessed him to take his foundling back from the Moff. He bore a beskar spear that he used to block every strike of the Darksaber and threw himself wholly into combat, not a single movement wasted, but even the greatest of warriors tire. When the Moff saw him stagger, he raised the Darksaber high to cut Djarin across the neck, where we are at our weakest; but before he could make his move, the Mand’alor struck him through the eye with the tip of his spear.”
There was a gasp of shock from some of the children and a nod of approval from some of the warriors. A slight twinge of pride rose in the Armorer’s chest as she listened; if a man was fool enough to fight without a helmet, then his hubris should be exploited. It was a lesson all the children she had taught learned early.
“There the Moff fell,” Bo-Katan said, her voice proud and strong as she raised her hands to imitate the movement of a corpse falling to the sand. “And Djarin stood, wounded and weary from his fight but victorious. A beskar spear in one hand, the Darksaber in the other, he knew nothing of what he had won. Yet he had no time to celebrate his victory; deadly death trooper droids had come to finish the Moff's work.
“Yet, somehow, we were not forsaken. An ancient enemy of our people had come to save us. We watched through the security systems as a cloaked figure carved through all the enemy’s reinforcements like a blade through air and came to the bridge. That he had saved us was pure coincidence, for the truth was that he had come for the Child.”
The children closest to Grogu looked at the child, then back to the redeemed warrior. It seemed that all who listened had gone silent, waiting on the truth that laid at the end of the tale. A story meant to be written in Song should have an ending, after all.
“The Jedi and the Mand'alor seemed to understand something beyond myself,” Bo-Katan said, her voice heavy with what the Armorer thought might be sorrow. “And the newly won Mand’alor knelt before the little foundling he had been willing to die for and removed his helmet. He urged little Grogu to be brave and to be safe. I watched as he placed a pendant from his neck with the Child, but not once did I see his face before he replaced the helmet as the Jedi left.”
“He gave the child his pendant?” The question escaped before she could stop it, and the way Bo-Katan straightened in surprise told her that the princess knew nothing of the significance. The Armorer cleared her throat with no small measure of embarrassment. “It... That pendant was the riduurok pledge of Paz Vizsla.”
“What’s it mean to give it away?” A child near Bo-Katan asked the question as they bounced eagerly in place.
“It means...”
She stopped to think for a moment as the tribe’s eyes settled upon her. He had no idea who had survived the tragedies of Nevarro. He’d lost his home, his covert, and as far as he could possibly know he had nowhere to go. The love he had held since his youth had, to his knowledge, perished in an act of devotion and protection; he had no reason to believe she had survived. To remove his helmet in any situation, especially in the presence of their ancient enemy, would mean that he had lost his Creed.
Silence settled over the tribe as she stood and approached the cradle. She lifted the little creature from his place and ruffled his robes with a tender hand until she found the pendant in question, hidden beneath the signet and the beskar shirt that kept him safe. Wide, brown eyes looked up at her with a curious noise of confusion as she ran her thumb over the surface of the old piece.
When she had made the piece, it had been a gift from Vizsla to a foundling who barely spoke. Before Djarin had become beroya, before he had learned to run from anything that might be stable because attachment led to comfort and mistakes. It was a symbol of loyalty, a bond that could not be broken by time, distance, or death. Paz had been safe harbor since the moment he’d given the pendant to Din.
The details had been rubbed away by time. It weighed nearly the same it had when she had pulled it from the forge for a patient cabur. An anchor for a soul that didn’t know roots.
A choice to reconnect.
“It means that Grogu is his child in all but rite.”
“He’s Mandalorian?” Ragnar perked up as he caught the Armorer’s attention. He'd nearly blended in with the adults by lurking in their shadows, a valuable skill for someone with a habit of getting caught by things far larger than himself. She gave him a small nod as she placed the child back in his cradle, an act which earned her a giggle and the clutch of a small hand in the curve of her thumb.
“He is Mando’ad.”
Her son had stopped running.
#the mandalorian#din djarin#star wars#fanfic#wip weekend#the armorer#bo katan kryze#grogu#mando#parragone's wips#pazdin
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How do you pronounce Cal's full name, Caliph?
I go back and forth between kah-LEEF or KAY-liff because I've heard it both ways. Which is correct?
Love that the betajis use his full name so much also :)
Thank you thank you!! 💕 The first is correct — kah-LEEF :) Thank you so much for asking! Also his surname is pronounced like CHAH-du’ree.
He goes by Cal (pronounced like as in Calvin) to most people, and generally thinks of himself as Cal, but Indian folks have never called him that because it’s a mispronounced abbreviation of a name they’re usually familiar with (though the spelling is unusual).
The origin of him going by Cal dates back to kindergarten. His teacher, somewhat offhandedly upon greeting him for the first time, said “Oh, we have two Cals in the class!” And he kinda stared at her for a moment and she went on. “We have one Calvin and one Caliph, two Cals!”
Cal’s full name was mispronounced throughout preschool, both by other students and the teacher, so while he was not at all conscious of his motivation for doing so, he eagerly confirmed “My name is Cal!” “Okay, you just go by Cal?” she asked, with excitement that was probably influenced by the fact that this was easier. He said yes. He was Cal from then on.
There’s a story behind his full name and its spelling. It goes back in time and into his father Rajesh’s story. Specifically it comes from an unfinished novel penned by Rajesh’s brother Siddharth before he died. Very abridged version of a very long story under the text break. (Forewarning: There are some sadnesses involved.)
The last thing Siddharth Chowdhury ever wrote was a letter to Rajesh asking him to get rid of his unfinished manuscript. To read it, and then get rid of it. Not to publish it, not to let their mother see it, “Because surely she will try, and I am not Vincent Van Gogh. This is not Starry Night, it is something shameful. It is a representation of a man’s selfish pursuit of his silly dreams. I do not know if it is any good, but if it is I do not deserve posthumous praise for something that was the death of my wife, that was the death of me.”
In Siddharth’s usual style, the novel was extremely autobiographical. In its pages Rajesh discovered quite a lot about Siddharth, including that he was gay. Rajesh had seen plenty of other signs of this and on some level he knew, but the novel was confirmation. The novel was Siddharth’s explanation that it was a major part of his life and something he couldn’t change about himself.
The last night Rajesh ever spent in Jaipur, he sat for hours in the room where he and his brother slept throughout their childhood, with a manuscript and a request to destroy it and anger and confusion and intense indecision over whether or not to honor the last thing Siddharth asked of him. With a lighter and a shaking hand, Rajesh lit the bottom corner of The Philosopher King and watched his brother’s final work begin to burn for exactly ten seconds before relenting and putting out the flame. Instead he took it with him when he estranged himself from his parents and left India for good.
Four years after Siddharth’s death, at an Asian market in Bethesda, Rajesh and Priyanka ran back into each other. They had both received their Ph.Ds and were working, Rajesh in toxicology, Priyanka beginning a career as a chemist in research and development at a pharmaceutical company she didn’t really like. Rajesh didn’t know whether to ask her for a date or set her up with an interview at the company he was working for so he went with both. Priyanka accepted the former and politely declined the latter.
It became clear to Priyanka immediately that Rajesh’s mind was clearer this time around, though it was also clear that he harbored a great sadness, and there was something about it that tugged at every last one of Priyanka’s heartstrings, even when—or maybe especially when—it wasn’t the kind of thing he seemed keen on talking about. He wasn’t a prideful person but he was satisfied in the work he was doing and considered it important. He was a hard worker in every aspect of his life. He thought quickly and made decisions slowly. It took him nearly a year to propose and when he did it came with the confessions she was waiting for, reasons his own family was not invited to attend a wedding. He told her his story only in terms of the facts, and Priyanka was grateful, like he’d given her the only key to solving his mysteries. They were married in India, in the village where Priyanka was born.
There’s something beautiful about a sad face until you see glimpses of it in your wedding photos. Priyanka waited for Rajesh to express emotion, about the things he told her. She was patient. She romanticized his tragedies, a little bit, at first, but soon enough she started to wonder if her husband wasn’t a ticking time bomb. Or maybe something closer to a leaking battery, slowly oozing enough acid, little by little, to quietly ruin something.
Rajesh treated Priyanka with courtesy but not respect, not quite. Priyanka expected nothing different. It was the way she was raised herself, to defer to her husband, to follow his lead, for him to make their life, and her to make his life easier in return.
When Priyanka told him she was pregnant it was June of 1985 and Rajesh simply nodded. He said nothing about it until the following day when he got home from work with a list of plans and said, “Okay, here is what we’re going to do.” He could get transferred to Baltimore, which was a better place to raise a child, so he would do that. They would buy a car, something reliable, and put a downpayment on a house, not a fixer upper, something newly constructed. They would begin a college fund. They would both get life insurance. They would hope for the best and plan for the worst.
Priyanka was five months pregnant when she found The Philosopher King, slightly singed, in the bottom of a moving box meant for the attic. It was over six hundred pages long and still unfinished and seemed to almost be three separate, messily entangled stories in one. It told Siddharth’s and Rajesh’s story in a not-very-covert manner and was set in a version of the future wherein the past had gone a different way and the Ottoman Caliphate was a major world power composed mostly of genetically enhanced people. It was revelatory and prescient and strange and profoundly emotional and very, very good.
In the least developed storyline of the three, the main character was the reigning khalifah—an honorific title that means, in literal translation from Arabic, “leader,” and refers to the leader of a Caliphate. The character was an unusually honorable man trying his best who seemed in many ways based on Rajesh (but in a much less overt way than the other character who was very clearly based on Rajesh). Perhaps some mixture of Rajesh and the Buddha. Other characters, and the text itself, referred to this character only as Caliph. An English transliteration of khalifah.
Rajesh had never mentioned anything to Priyanka about the existence of this manuscript. When he came home to find her reading it he was angry, but not at her. He simply took it from her hands and left the room. He didn’t blame her for reading it, but it occurred to him that he violated Siddharth’s last wish and this is what happened — spilled secrets. Siddharth’s shame and in many ways also his own.
One Sunday afternoon a few weeks later, Rajesh did, at last, destroy the manuscript as he made the inaugural fire in the fireplace of their new home. He didn’t expect to regret it immediately. He didn’t expect to be sobbing when Priyanka returned from an errand.
But there was comfort and closeness that came from it and he opened up to Priyanka in a way he never had before, in a way he had never opened up to anyone before. He mourned for Siddharth’s manuscript in a way he couldn’t quite mourn for Siddharth. And his relationship with Priyanka had never been closer or better. It was a shining moment born from tragedy. It was an affirmation of Priyanka’s faith in her husband. It was Rajesh finally exhaling the breath he’d been holding for he wouldn’t even know how long.
On February 10th, 1986, in a labor and delivery room at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, Maryland, a teary-eyed Rajesh looked from his newborn son to Priyanka and said, “I would like to call him Caliph.”
#answered asks 💕#Cal#the unabridged version is much longer and I'd have to include a smorgasbord of content warnings#Cal himself does not know this story#Rajesh is a very private person and the specifics of his difficulties are largely a mystery to Cal#I’d just finished The Namesake when I wrote this and if you’ve read it it probably shows lol#Rajesh
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MEET MARCELLA "MARS" ESPADA-SHIRAZI
AGE: 38 years old (571)
BIRTHDAY: June 30, 1451
GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis woman — she/her
OCCUPATION: Private detective (works out of a rented office in Avebury Offices)
PLACE OF BIRTH: Cape Town, South Africa
NEIGHBORHOOD: Hearthstone Bay
HAS LIVED IN ASTORIA FOR: 113 years
CHARACTER INTERVIEW
What makes Astoria still appealing to you? Is it related to personal or work relationships?
The way her face contorts into a grimace is fleeting but apparent, yet despite her features softening it's only somewhat. There's still a sharpness to her gaze, a silent scrutiny.
"Personal." Her voice is flat, tone clipped. Vexation prickles the underside of her skin at the flash of memories in her mind, like a brief explosion and for a second she feels blinded by them like a human having dared a glance at the sun. Memories she'd rather not think about in the presence of this stranger.
She continues after a brief, but choking silence. "While it's rather crowded for my tastes, I'll take the denser population to somewhere riddled with hunters lurking at every turn and supernaturals aren't able to have a free-for-all and do whatever they wish with little to no consequence. Work I can find just about anywhere, and even if that were to fall through there are always other options."
What’s something about your personality that you’re proud of? And what would you like to change?
Marcella barks out a strangled, terse laugh. There is nothing more to be proud of. Maybe her ability to care so deeply for someone she would bring down the heavens and set the world ablaze for them if they so wished it, if it meant keeping them safe, but this too doesn't seem like an admirable quality to possess.
The quiet stretches on and she shifts in her seat. Finally, Marcella heaves a weary sigh.
"I'd say my sense of justice, but..." She trails off and her brow crinkles into a small frown of dissatisfaction. Marcella shakes her head. "No, it's warped and justice is little more than a pretty word, so I'll go with my determination."
She supposes it's sufficient and she doesn't wish to wrack her brain further only to reject every other trait she thinks of.
"It's the only reason I'm still alive, for better or worse. I won't give up on someone or something I've promised my time and effort to until I see that promise to the end. As for my flaws? Well, I have many that could use work, I'm sure, yet..."
Her lips twist into a sardonic smirk. "My vengeful nature," she hisses through gritted teeth. "My wrath is not explosive; I don't lash out at others typically without provocation. It's more internalized for what I couldn't save, for what I lost, for what I am now." Which is more than the person needed to know, but once loosed like arrows she couldn't call back her words. "But it does mean I'm colder these years, colder and closed off. And I'm always hunting, in my own way, for those who have done wrong. It sates my own hunger for... Well, it doesn't matter." She gives a dismissive shrug and leans back in her chair.
Please elaborate on any violent circumstances you may have been involved with in the past.
This elicits a low groan. Marcella inhales deeply and folds her arms across her chest. She really should've known this question was coming and the more she considers it the more irritated she feels.
"A lot and for a very long time. But the abridged version is I used to be a lawyer once, long ago. I still keep up with the subject, but I threw away my lawyer's badge when-" She averts her stare for the first time and her voice drops to something between a whisper and a snarl -- a strained sound. "My daughter was taken from me and I hunted down those at fault for her death."
There's a short pause as Marcella straightens up once more mouth tugging into a frown and brows knitting together as she meets the interviewer's stare. A smoldering rage, a quiet anguish, but most of all a bone-deep exhaustion swirl in her dark eyes.
"And that's when I found out I was unfortunately good at it and made it something lucrative despite having no desire to do so. Yes, I killed my husband. No, I do not regret it. I've given up the business of killing a long time ago though. I did become a lawyer again under a different identity, but gave it up for good. However, that part of the story is irrelevant." She lets out another sigh. "So now I'm tired and bitter and for some reason I'm still trying to survive." She flashes the interviewer a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
Your thoughts about supernatural beings.
Marcella's shoulders raise in a shrug of indifference. "I have no qualms with them for what they are. However, I do take issue when they force others to become like them."
There's a surge of hot anger that makes her blood simmer, but she only clenches her jaw and sucks in a sharp breath through her nose.
"I never wanted to be a vampire. I wish I wasn't, but I am now because of a vampire I had the misfortune of meeting centuries ago."
FACECLAIM: Lesley Ann-Brandt
PLAYED BY: Emma
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The tangle of bodies is chaotic and haphazard—ravenous. Hands push and tug and remove articles of clothing while mouths desperately attempt to remain attached to mouths and skin, bruisingly firm touches and moaned confessions, making up for lost time.
UMMMMMMM. 😨 HELLO??????????????????????????????? mother, i am just obsessed with your brain. i read this passage days ago and it has stuck with me. and the smut chunk that follows (calling namjoon's d**k your prize alkdjasljdsadjasl describing how yoongi's pretty doll lips wrap around it asldjalsjdalsda ARE YOU INSANE????!!?!?!!!?!??), but i don't want to put that in your ask box in all its explicit glory.
is there a nobel peace price for fic writing because i am so fucking serious, you need it. thank you, as always, for being so god damn talented and sharing it with us WE ARE NOT WORTHY. 🙇♀️
ANON PLEASE 🥺
you can't just say shit like this to me, i am very sensitive. 💜⭐💖🌻💝🌷😍💐💘🌙🍦💞🍰🌼💞⚡💕🌺🤸♀️🌹🎀🥰💘💕🌻🌞
i will also accept the prize, tho, please and thank you lolol. 🥰🥰🥰
honestly, that's one of my favorite little bits from 18. i was like hmmm the smut with jk is going to be so INTENSE i should do an abridged version for the three of them, and make it nice and poetic. and you very much ARE WORTHY LMAO that's why i write this nasty cutie sexy lovely shit FOR FREEEEE.
ANYWAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY I LOVE YOU WOW THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! comments like these are why i write. i mean, i also enjoy the connections with everyone, and i love weaving stories that you enjoy writing hehehe but i am a bit selfish and i really really really love it when people tell me why i am so amazing.
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The Great Lakes acronym spells homes
I chose titled topic by a fanciful whim,
nevertheless still consider my knowledge
of aforementioned material slim.
Housing multivarious biomes
register ecological syndromes
whereby constituents of NOAA
Great Lakes Environmental
Research Laboratory writ tomes.
Pellucid pearls in northeastern
North America since planetary birth
Comprise Lakes Superior, Michigan,
Huron, Erie, and Ontario dearth
Largest group of freshwater lakes on Earth
Straddle Canadian–United States border
tethering partial global girth
Constituting 21% of world's surface
freshwater species hearth
Total surface equals 94,250 square miles
And total volume equals 5,439
cubic miles immeasurable worth.
Lake Erie from Erie tribe, abridged form
of Iroquoian word erielhonan “long tail”
Lake Huron named by French explorers for
Wyandot or “Hurons” whence they did sail
Lake Michigan likely from Ojibwa word
mishigami “great water” aka outsize gold quail
Lake Ontario i.e. “Lake of Shining Waters”
shimmering like hammered coat of mail
Lake Superior coined from French “lac supérieur”
"upper lake", an emerald watery dale
Ojibwe people called it gitchigumi medicinal
to cure that, which might ail.
These five lakes each reside in separate basin
Form a single, naturally interconnected body
of fresh water caisson
Linking east-central interior of North America
to Atlantic Ocean akin to an escutcheon.
From interior to outlet at St. Lawrence River,
Water flows via Superior to Michigan-Huron
southward to Erie to avoid a shiver
Finally released northward to Lake Ontario
as like a well taut archer with his quiver.
The lakes drain a large watershed via many
rivers as an Olympic team
Populated with approximately 35,000 islands
this estimate not x stream.
The Great Lakes region contains many
thousands of smaller lakes,
Often called inland lakes undulating in
delving, cascading and brimming
analogous to a fluid ream
Lake Michigan the only one located
entirely within United States
While the others border between United States
and Canada – essentially a liquid seam.
Lakes Michigan and Huron
are basically a single lake,
Sometimes called Lake Michigan-Huron,
combined doth make
Total area of 45,300 square miles (117,000 km2)
Have the same surface elevation of 577 feet (176 m),
Connected by 295-foot deep Straits of
Mackinac Islands splayed like a rake.
Approximately 35,000 islands
extant throughout oceanic like sea
Largest among them
Manitoulin Island in Lake Huron
brushing up against Goliath knee.
The second-largest island is Isle Royale in
Lake Superior to boot
Both these islands
contain multiple lakes themselves
alive with creatures that hoot.
Unadulterated details gleaned courtesy
Mister Google, which website
buried under virtual sediment:
The Saint Lawrence Seaway
and Great Lakes Waterway connect
the Great Lakes to ocean-going vessels.
The move to wider ocean-going container ships —
which do not fit through the locks on these routes —
has limited container shipping on the lakes.
Most Great Lakes trade constitutes bulk material
and bulk freighters of Seawaymax-size
or less can move throughout
the entire lakes and out to the Atlantic.
The Great Lakes also connected
to the Gulf of Mexico
by way of the Illinois River
(from the Chicago River)
and the Mississippi River.
An alternate track is via the Illinois River
(from Chicago), to the Mississippi,
up the Ohio, and then
through the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway
(combination of a series
of rivers and lakes and canals),
to Mobile Bay and the Gulf.
Commercial tug-and-barge traffic
on these waterways quite heavy.
Pleasure boats can also enter or exit
the Great Lakes by way of
the Erie Canal and Hudson River in New York.
The Erie Canal connects to the Great Lakes
at the east end of Lake Erie
(at Buffalo, New York)
and at the south side of Lake Ontario
(at Oswego, New York).
The Great Lakes contain 21%
of the world’s fresh surface water:
5,472 cubic miles (22,810 km3),
or 6.0×1015 U.S. gallons (2.3×1016 liters).
This equals enough water
to cover the 48 contiguous U.S. states
to a uniform depth of 9.5 feet (2.9 m).
Although the lakes contain
a large percentage of the world's fresh water,
the Great Lakes supply only a small portion
of U.S. drinking water
on a national basis (roughly 4.2%).
Winter 2009–10 ranked somewhat mild,
the precipitation was below normal
for the Great Lakes Basin.
Mean lake levels then thought
to be slightly below
or at their levels of 2009.
An ice jam in February 2010
dropped the level in Lake St. Clair.
Since the jam got removed the level
has come back to its average.
As of March 2010, the lakes
were at the level, or slightly below,
where they were in March 2009.
The combined surface area
of the lakes equals approximately
94,250 square miles (244,100 km2)—
nearly the same size as the United Kingdom,
and larger than the U.S. states of New York,
New Jersey, Connecticut, Rhode Island,
Massachusetts, Vermont,
and New Hampshire combined.
The Great Lakes coast measures
approximately 10,500 miles (16,900 km);
however, the length of a coastline
impossible mission to measure exactly
cuz topographical feature not well-defined.
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At The Drop Of A Hat
by quotidian_void, TristiCorde
“We have a problem,” Tim whispered.
“And it’s another Tuesday, what’s your point,” Jason asked, not looking up from his book.
“My point,” Tim whisper-hissed, “Is that you need to come with me right now.”
“But I’m in the middle of this,” Jason lifted the abridged copy of The Iliad toward Tim’s face. “Can’t it wait until we get home?”
“No,” Tim tugged on Jason’s elbow. At least Tim learned not to touch the book. “I need help.”
“So you have a problem,” Jason teased, but he put down the book. If the little mafia boss was asking for help, then it must be important.
The problem, as it turned out to be, was a rogue attack at school.
Words: 8191, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 3 of The Mafia Files (expansion pack)
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: Gen
Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Original Characters, Mad Hatter
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth
Additional Tags: High School, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Light Angst, Tim Drake is Stray (mentioned), Tim Drake is So Done, Tim Drake Joins the Batfamily Early, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Jason Todd is So Done, Jason Todd is Robin, POV Jason Todd, POV Tim Drake, POV Dick Grayson, POV Bruce Wayne, POV Alternating, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Dick Grayson is So Done, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, minor character injury, Sick Character, Mentioned Lex Luthor, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Crime Boss Tim Drake, Mafia Boss Tim Drake, rogue attack, Humor, Attempt at Humor, Jason Todd Loves Classic Literature
source https://archiveofourown.org/works/44440081
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Day 7 Art
Now that I've given some information about Flickering Out (specifically Day 7) I figure now's a good time to release some art I made for it. Now's probably the first time I can post these while having the audience have any idea what's going on. Also I may put in some sneaky exerts from Day 7, y'know, for fun.
Now I'd give headers for the artwork's titles but I kinda gave them dumb names like
The Big Scary Demon Pegasus
Its telepathy is interrupted by a terrible, earsplitting screech. Atsume has teleported herself onto its back, and is now wrapping her arms around its neck. This takes Durkuat by surprise, as it opens its beak to scream.
It sounds halfway between an eagle's squawk and a woman's scream. It lasts a dreadfully long time before Atsume reaches her arms up to its head, and eventually its beak. I lie petrified as she tries to yank the beak off. Durkuat bucks wildly, violently trying to fling her off its back, but Atsume must have a grip of steel, because she manages to stay on. ... With three good tugs the beak tears away from its head.
This piece is actually a redraw of something I made traditionally. I made it for a school Book Week contest where I had to draw something illustrating "my story," or something like that. I actually left it to the last minute so I spent all my classes on the deadline date drawing it. Ah... don't worry, I wasn't doing anything during those classes anyway. I won that contest, though I'm not sure if that's because mine was genuinely the best or if I was the only one who entered. I was the only one in my grade, at any rate.
Day 7 Comic
Yeah that's literally the title in the filename - very creative I know.
I glance at Durkuat. Still screaming as though it is in pain, it has now started to glow white. Not wanting to witness whatever change of form comes next (good or bad), I silently agree, and we're on the run again. ... Suddenly I'm startled by someone grabbing me by the back of my collar. Instinctively, I turn around and knock them away with my arm.
...She has to be Durkuat. She's got the same bands of blood around her face. And then she speaks. It's a horrible sound. Her voice is strained, it breaks as though it hasn't been used in centuries. She slurs like she's forgotten how to make the sounds. A mixture of saliva and blood leaks out of her mouth. It's a horrifying sight. The worst part is, I don't think she has a tongue. ...
“Come on, Sonwy!” calls Atsume.
I glance back, Atsume's waiting a bit up ahead.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
And I run.
Those are some very abridged exerts there. Sorry, had to do that, otherwise this post would've been wayy too long. And it's pretty long as is. I suppose this is actually Durkuat/Nori's visual debut on this blog. Not ideal... I have a Tiansei explanation post that's been in my drafts for the past two months, and at this rate I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to finish it.
The Nightmare
Another digital redraw, but god do I love this one. Looks like a movie poster... or book cover... That's ironic. As the title says this is more of a nightmare and not something that actually happens, and ah, Durkuat doesn't actually look like that. I should... I should probably finish that Tiansei explanation post.
Also note to anyone reading this: don't Ctrl+Z while writing posts. You can only redo once and it's never the amount you undid. I had to write that intro three times.
#tw: blood#fiction#artwork#writing#flickering out#sonwy koren#atsume sakana#tiansei durkuat#tiansei nori
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Okay but god of life Grian feels super in character for him; life doesn’t promise kindness or gentle touches, it promises exaggerated highs and lows, life is difficult, life can be mean, that’s part of the gift. The gift is the experience, to live through those emotions. Doesn’t mean those emotions are good or those experiences healthy, but they happened.
And then that contrasts with mumbo, death, who feels like being carried to bed as a child, who takes your hand gently and guides you away, who comforts the distraught and promises “they’ll miss you, but they’ll be okay, you don’t have to worry about them anymore” and kisses your bruises and soothes your aches. Ferries you into somewhere soft, warm, comfortable.
I feel like they’re rivals. Not intensely so, but simply by nature. Their jobs are a constant tug of war neither wants to win. They just don’t want the game to stop.
Scar comes along, then. A mortal who, no matter what Grian throws at him, he succeeds and comes out the other side still smiling. Inadvertently becoming his champion, who travels and sees it all, and is both cunning and shrewd and so incredibly oblivious. He’s stupid but he’s not dumb by any means.
Mumbo seeing Scars name on his list of souls for the day so frequently, only for the mortal to somehow not die. Over and over again, the mortal comes out the other side just fine. Mumbos even bore within to what can only be direct divine intervention by, presumably, Grian, only for the man to skip away unscathed.
(The god of fate, perhaps Scott or Jimmy, shrugs when Mumbo asks how and why it keeps happening; fate is merely the silhouette of someone’s life, how they chose to fill that blank space in is up to them)
Mumbo is the one who makes the first move. Appearing as a new farmer in town. He’s infatuated with Scar, yes, but he needs to know if this man is actually up to nefarious things. He just has to hope he finds what he’s looking for before falling madly in love.
Meanwhile, as they do in fact fall in love, Grian Watches them. Both enjoying watching Mumbo attempt to be a human and seeing them fall in love, and incredibly irked that mumbo thought of that plan first.
Maybe as revenge, eventually, he seduces them both. Or, rather, he was trying to seduce Scar and then Mumbo showed up, upset—he knew it was Grian and what he was doing, he’s not upset at Scar—only for Grian to surprise him by bringing him into it as well.
(When Grian goes from pressing himself against Mumbos boyfriend, to pressing himself against Mumbo, he may have short circuited just a bit)
And then he sticks around afterwards.
(Based on the things the pair have said to each other, and their general reaction to each other initially, Scar assumes they’re exes. So, when Grian sticks around, he emphasizes that they’re both okay with this new arrangement.
He also figured out pretty quick that neither of them are human; he doesn’t know what they are exactly though.)
(They don’t know about Scars assumptions. They think they’re so smooth about this whole thing. They’re really not)
— abridged anon
Scar: humans breath, you know that right?
Mumbo & Grian: *suddenly taking a deep breath* right.
Anyways
I LOVE IT I LOVE IT Mumbo's so awkward as a human too, it's so weird being in a mortal forme. And that silly wet cat of a man makes Scar fall harder for him lolol
Then Grian shows up and boy oh boy
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