#One Who Hails From the Island of Misfortune || Ikkaku (Ikkaku-of-heart)

[miskatonicfolly]

@ikkaku-of-heart:

A package arrived for Herbert, delivered by a rather perturbed-looking seabird who immediately flew off the moment its task was complete. Attached to the package was a letter.

Hi Herbert!

I've been working on my sewing skills and thought I'd make you something. I hope I judged the sizing right! Try to keep out of trouble, yeah? Next time I see you I'm taking your measurements so I can tailor you a nice shirt. In the meantime, try not to get too much blood on your gift.

With love, Ikkaku

Within the plain brown package lay a brand-new, stark white lab coat with the words "Dr. Herbert West" embroidered in blue across the left breast pocket. The coat also contained numerous hidden pockets within the lining perfect for test tubes, tools, and syringes to be tucked away and concealed. Inside the collar, where a tag would typically be found, was the Heart Pirate jolly roger. It was an unofficial declaration that this scientist was under the protection of one curly-haired pirate engineer.

It was a rare moment when Herbert found himself simply outside. Time spent loitering was time wasted. Normally, anyway. But there has been something shifting on the island lately. Maybe it was too many new people that was setting him on edge. Foolish people who fancied themselves doctors had returned to Arkham from off-island and loved claiming how cultured and advanced the outside world was. Now they were trying desperately to bring that "culture" to Arkham.

A fool's errand.

It disgusted Herbert. Having more travelers to town meant idiotic injuries he had to care for at the hospital. It seemed he had no time for anything these days. It was either the hospital or the lab. It was only the strain of work and mental exhaustion that now had Herbert sitting in the moist, gloomy air that blanketed Joras. He knew that technically fresh air was good for a bad mood but there was usually supposed to be sunshine somewhere in the equation.

A flap of wings drew his attention. He blinked, features scrunching slightly at the sight of the delivery bird. It was most irregular for him to receive anything. He rarely ordered things and he was not keen on giving away his address.

Cautiously he took the letter, opening it. the tightness in his face and across his shoulders rapidly eased. He read the note from his friend, a surprisingly soft smile creeped onto his face. The letter was placed securely in the pocket of his shirt as he quickly opened the box.

The coat was pulled out with rapidly mounting excitement. The material was comfortable and sturdy. The many pockets would not sag or rip under the assault of Herbert's many items. Seeing his name stitched in blue filled him with an emotion he was unfamiliar with. He quickly stood up from his seat and slipped on the lab coat. Yes. this would do nicely.

This was one thing he loved about Ikkaku: her eye from practicality. He would need to thank her. Perhaps a package with some treats that were only available on Joras.

[miskatonicfolly]

Life on Joras Headcanons

Somewhere along the line, my One Piece crossover with @ikkaku-of-heart​ seems to have become my main verse. hehe. So here, have some headcanons.

Life on Joras is not an easy one. There’s people suspicious about everyone. Cults always trying to perform rituals they shouldn’t. Supplies from ships never quite reaching the greatly disturbed city of Arkham. The constant fear by every denizen that the light in the lighthouse will go out. it just all makes life very stressful.

Unless you’re Herbert West.

Herbert lives in an old house that doubled as a mortuary on the edge of the Cemetery beside the Miskatonic river. He can see one of the island’s very dark forests across the river. While normally not scared, he’s also not a fool. He knows not to trust the forest and not to touch the water of the river.

Herbert is about 85% unbothered by the other going ons of the island. He has his lab at home and his job at Miskatonic University Hospital, both of which is all he believes he needs in life. The depressive atmosphere of the island, the constant unease in the peoples’ spirits, and illusive “risk of pirate attack” just have no pull on Herbert. So long as people don’t bother him, he won’t be a problem for them.

Herbert isn’t superstitious but he also isn’t stupid. Though he dare not admit it, he knows the old ones are a very real risk to be concerned about. As such, he is regularly filled with the need to check to see if the lighthouse is still bright. It doesn’t matter that Arkham is a long distance from the shore.

Herbert would prefer to be around the dead than the living. He’s highly anti-social and extremely introverted. He just does not do well with others. Luckily for him, Joras always seems to have a new crop of corpses. Corpses no one cares about because they’re usually pirates or navy that foolishly made it to the island. Corpses where it will go unnoticed if the body’s missing an arm or a head or even just the entire thing really.

Much to Herbert’s disappointment, he does suffer from loneliness (occasionally). This is difficult when you hate everyone and everyone hates you because you’re somehow creepier than what is expected of Joras citizens. Generally, Herbert has no one to cure his loneliness whenever it wishes to strike. He has an ex but the man ratted him out to the Navy for “unethical experimentation with corpses”. Luckily, those Navy disappeared/died under mysterious circumstances before Herbert could officially be arrested. He’s ex was very annoyed and the two broke up shortly after. But after that, Herbert had zero people he actually cared to talk to.

A random encounter on an island that Herbert was procuring chemistry supplies on is what led to the brightspot in Herbert’s life. He happened upon a woman (Ikkaku) working for the Heart Pirates and the two got to talking about their connection to Joras. Despite Herbert’s usual dislike of women (a bad experience dealing with his ex’s late girlfriend), he and the pirate became quick friends.

Herbert’s never really had a friend around his own age besides his ex. Most people didn’t like him (for a multitude of reasons). And the last real friend he had was a professor (that later died). So, creating a bond with Ikkaku was a strange, and honestly, almost frightening experience for Ikkaku. He feels safe being himself around her because he knows she’s not a hypocrite and her calling the Navy on him when she works for The Surgeon of Death would be extremely hypocritical. 

Ikkaku’s friendship means more to Herbert than he ever expected. He is known for being extremely possessive and jealous, smothering even. Despite this, Herbert never tries to convince Ikkaku not to leave when she wants to return to her crew after a visit. He has found that her happiness means a great deal to him. So, he looks forward to her visits but he isn’t one to beg for one.

Unless, of course, someone new comes to the island and does something very, very stupid...

[miskatonicfolly]

@ikkaku-of-heart​ asked:

"Hey Herbert," Ikkaku said, peering at a dusty framed photo that had been blocked by several books in his office. There was an unfamiliar man and woman standing beside the younger-looking doctor. "Who are they? Friends of yours? Old classmates?"

Herbert froze. A picture? Where had she found a picture? While his home had the odd yet stereotypical seaside paintings, there were no photos. No portraits. No drop of what his life was before. 

Chest tightening the slightest bit, he lifted his head. The books and data ledgers in his hands now rested with forgotten purpose. Straightening from his stooped position, he rested the books atop his desk before walking towards Ikkaku. His steps slowing, stalling, as he watched her lean in towards the bookcase. Gaze drifting to the forgotten photo. Why hadn’t he gotten rid of it?

He stopped beside her. Though the bookcase was tall, the photo was on a lower shelf. One that was more befitting Herbert’s eyeline. He looked at the photo. Something forgotten twinged inside of him. Something bitter and sorrowful. His face pinched for just a second before he shoved down the riled emotions once more.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ikkaku. You are my friend.” Herbert replied. Voice tight for just a second before he cleared his throat. He swiped his hand at some of the dust on the shelf as if it had been the one to incite the tightness of his throat. “The man and I went to medical school together. She was his partner.”

The photo told a deeper story. The teaching hospital of Miskatonic University was not the backdrop of the photo. Rather the trio looked to be standing in a living room of a comfortable home. Herbert stood on the right, the smallest smile to his lips and a gleam in his eye. The other man standing tall between the other two, standing just a tab bit too close to Herbert. The blonde woman stood on the left. She was smile but there was a slightly uneasy pinch to her features.

“No one important...” The words were mumbled, not quite under his breath. He reached out, moving the books back in front of the photo and turned back towards his desk.

[miskatonicfolly]

Waters Like Misfortune

@ikkaku-of-heart​

Herbert did his best each day to avoid letting his mind slide into the chaos that was sentimentality. It was such emotions of affection that ended up destroying progress. He had lost an excellent assistant to soft emotions. His companion had abandoned their precious work because of feelings. It had hurt Herbert more than he ever cared to admit. So, he had sworn off the disgusting sensation of emotional attachment.

Or, at least he had told himself such nonsense.

He clutched a bag of groceries when he heard a feminine voice cut through the quiet of the small village street. The very sound caused him to stop. His heart was a flutter; his head was swimming. He’d never heard the voice before and really could not care less about it. But it is the slightest accent that tints the sweet voice that draws his focus to it. He has never heard the sound out here in this universe-forsaken place called The New World. He would recognize the sound of his home anywhere. 

Clutching the bag to his chest, he walked briskly down the side of the street. His messenger bag bounced against his hip with each hurried step. The rhythm matched the pulse of his heart as he followed the voice’s distinct sound. He saw the woman standing just outside of the village’s only mechanic’s shop. Curiosity sparked under his skin as he neared her.

“Excuse me, miss. You hail from the island of Joras, do you not?” He asked without preamble. He stepped close but not nearly close enough to burst either of their bubbles of personal space. He tilted his head back the slightest bit to catch her eye.

[miskatonicfolly]

Bad Blood

Cont. from X

@ikkaku-of-heart​

Her odd choice of sleepwear was only a small blip in the back of his mind. He’d never understand what was the point of wearing anything design heavy to bed when plain colors were more economical. It seemed ridiculous to him but that wasn’t important now. 

Twisting tendrils of dark thoughts swirled through his mind. This was a disaster of biblical proportions. They would need to go about this carefully if his greatest concerns proved to be true. And if they were, this whole section of the ocean was in dire trouble. Without the precautions on Joras, tragedy might not be so easily adverted in this situation.

“I am not aware as to how my lab was found or by who. I was careful with this town. I could not afford to move my research now.” He took in a slow breath, trying to sooth the tingling anxiety crawling beneath his skin. He rolled down the blood-stained sleeves of his dress shirt before looking up to catch Ikkaku’s eye. “I fear we have worse problems than you think.”

“Ikkaku, I do not keep the container labeled nor do I have any easily accessible notes on it because I am not currently researching the tainted essence. It just looks like a normal container of blood.” He took off his glass. Rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes, he let out another sigh. “The storage container is at the back of the lab. It’s past my containers of reagent and all my equipment. All of which was untouched. These fools were only there for the blood.”

He gritted his teeth. Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist in a gentle but serious grip. “I believe that whoever broke in had a way of tracking the essence of the Old Ones. People who foolishly think that they want that essence. But you and I both know that there’s no logical way there are more citizens of Joras on this island....”