#and the other time was today when i broke the needle on a sewing machine and it hit me between the eyes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

creative-type · 3 years

Text

wake from death and return to life vi

AO3 First Previous Summary: Zoro had always been told that Kuina died falling down the stairs. But she didn’t fall, and she wasn’t dead.

AN: buckle up, kiddos. This is a long one

“It goes like this.”

Danny and Kuina exited the canteen line each with a bowl of rice and limp vegetables. They’d had to wait nearly an hour for even that, the Revolution carefully rationing the stores they’d raided from Tolouse’s granaries in the short time they were in control of the city. Danny claimed they had enough for at least a week of fighting, longer, perhaps, if the situation grew truly dire. Kuina couldn’t help but wonder how many of the men and women of Tolouse were allied with the Revolution simply because they filled their bellies, and how many would turn against them as their supplies dwindled.

Together, Kuina and Danny found a quiet corner and crouched down in the shadows to eat. It felt criminal, but Kuina was hungry, and she didn’t want the others to hear that she was grilling the one member of de Gris’s crew she could trust to be honest with her.

“Aria came from some Grand Line island or other known for its fencers,” Danny said in a low tone. She was just as eager to be left alone as Kuina, and perfectly happy to share the information she knew. “I heard her mother ran one of the more successful ones before she was killed in a pirate attack. It was after that Aria joined the marines.”

“I knew it!” Kuina said triumphantly. That damn coat never lied.

Danny looked at her askance, before chuckling wrly to herself. “She’s not the only one. Lyudmila was a marine, too, though not near as distinguished. When Aria left she took her ship with her, the Lady Valor. It made quite the stir at the time, I remember my parents reading about it in the paper. Of course, that was before I joined the Revolution,” she added, somewhat bitterly.

They paused as a Revolutionary wearing a tiger mask walked past. Kuina ate a few spoonfuls in silence, unwilling to admit she didn’t trust the Government-controlled news, nor care enough about world events, to bother with the paper. But before Danny had a chance to continue, the question burning at the end of her tongue spilled out. “Lady Valor…That’s something I don’t understand. Why are all her subordinates women? Doesn’t that make you conspicuous when you go from port to port? It’s not like there are that many lady sailors in the world.”

Kuina was half-afraid the other woman would laugh, or at least chastise her, but Danny simply took another bite of rice. “If I understand correctly—and mind you I heard all this second-hand; Boss gets real persnickety when asked—Aria sailed for a time under Vice Admiral Tsuru. She’s pretty famous for having an all female squadron on the Grand Line, so I guess that’s where she picked it up. But her whole crew isn’t women.”

“Just the important ones,” Kuina said, not sure if she was making a statement or asking a question.

“More or less,” Danny agreed.

Kuina scowled down in the general direction of her shoes. “That is so weird.”

“Aria has an eye for finding talent, no matter where that talent comes from,” Danny said. “There are a lot of men out there who wouldn’t even see people like us, let alone think to recruit us for the Revolution, no matter how talented we are. I mean, Dara was a street thief before Aria picked her up, and now she’s one of our best spooks, Elizabeth was on the run after accidentally causing an explosion at a marine garrison...”

“What?” Kuina interjected. “How?”

“Dust explosion with their flour supply,” Danny said. Seeing Kuina’s bug-eyed look of shock, she added hastily, “I mean, not all recruitments are that dramatic—I was only a naive apprentice stuck working under a jackass of a master when I first met her—but the point stands.” She finished the rest of her food and leaned her head back against the wall with a contented sigh. “She’s a bitch to work under sometimes, but at the time I was thankful to be free.”

“And now?”

Danny shrugged. “The Revolution isn’t for everyone. I think the next time we stop off at a base I’ll request to stay behind. Just build and fix ships, without having to worry about all this.” She gestured broadly to the streets of Tolouse.

“You can do that?” Kuina asked, surprised. “Just...ask not to fight any more?”

“Oh, sure. The Revolution is nothing about giving people the freedom of choice,” Danny said. “In fact, Aria’s crew rotates pretty frequently depending on what job she’s working on. Before you came along, Elizabeth was newest. She’s still pretty hopeless when it comes to fighting and sailcraft, so I think she’ll transfer to HQ one of these days to work on making weapons full time. Lyudmila is pretty much the only constant, but then again they left the marines together, so that’s not that a big of a surprise.”

Kuina squinted at her suspiciously. “Do you know everything about everyone?”

Danny laughed. “Well, I haven’t heard much about you. What’s your story? No, wait, let me guess—You’re a failed kabuki actor who accidentally swapped a prop sword for the real deal and killed the trope’s best actor, forcing you to go on the lam.”

Kuina couldn’t help it. She laughed. There was something about Danny’s flippant tone mixed with the ridiculousness of what she’d said that broke something within her. The tension that had been building within her since Loguetown eased from Kuina’s shoulders, and despite the smoky air, she could actually breathe.

The weak attempt at a joke wasn’t even funny. If anything, the truth that she’d revealed her face to a marine who might as well be her twin was even more ridiculous. But Kuina laughed until she cried, not caring if the people who walked past thought she was crazy, or that she’d spent her morning witnessing the aftermath of a massacre and her afternoon trying to comfort the hurt and dying.

It was infectious. Danny held back as long as she could, but soon her shoulders were shaking as she tried unsuccessfully to suppress giggles of her own. Each errant snort or cackle made the cycle start anew, each feeding into the other until their energy was spent and they were sprawled out in the street like a pair of drunks.

“That’s good. No matter what happens, you can’t forget how to laugh,” Danny said as she tried to catch her breath.

“What are you now, a sage?” Kuina asked.

“Maybe,” she said mysteriously, before falling into another fit of giggles. When she finally got herself under control, she pushed herself upright. “You never did answer the question, by the way. What are you doing here if you’re not a part of the Revolution?”

“I’m…”

“There you are.”

The shadow of Aria de Gris fell over them. The sun was sinking fast, the last rays of light skimming over the top of the barricades to shroud her in a celestial glow. Kuina suddenly felt very small and very foolish, and chided herself for being caught off guard. Hastily she got to her feet, settling her mask back over her face.

“Come on,” de Gris said, seemingly unaware of how her very presence sucked what little joy and happiness Kuina had found since leaving Loguetown. “I’ve got a job for the both of you.”

They were led inside a tiny seamstress’s shop. What little space that was available was crowded by shelves full of vibrant bolts of fabric, while spools of thread organized by color hung on racks next to mannequins draped with half-finished dresses. At the back of the shop a table had been swept away of cutting boards, material, sewing machines, and needles, dominated instead by a large map of the city.

Spooled bobbins, blue thread indicating the position of the Revolutionaries and red the Tolouse army, had been set down marking their respective positions. Kuina was no master strategist, but it seemed to her that there was a lot more red than blue. She squeezed in a small space between Danny and Dara, who had beaten them to the meeting, glad to be next to the two members of de Gris’s crew she was most familiar with.

“Alright, ladies. I know it’s been a hell of a day already, but we’ve received new orders,” de Gris said once everyone was settled. She rested her hands against the table, staring down at the bobbins as if a glare was enough to wipe them off the face of the map. “To start with some good news, earlier today Betty was able to capture a couple ships without damaging them—one military, one merchant. Incorporating them into our plans going forward will be vital to our mission’s success.”

“I’ve seen those ships, Captain,” Camille interrupted. “They’re small, and the merchant vessel isn’t outfitted for battle. I’m not sure they’ll be of much help in a fight.”

Heads around the table nodded in unison. Of de Gris’s crewmembers Kuina had already met, only Lyudmila was missing, replaced by an old woman she had never seen before. The old woman had a stoop in her back that made her even shorter than Elizabeth and wore a pair of glasses so tiny that it was a wonder she could even see through them. She appeared to only half-listen to what de Gris was saying, concentrating more on a line of snail phones laying at the edge of the map.

The communications expert, then. Danny had said something of her earlier, but Kuina couldn’t recall her name. Ignoring her for the moment, she turned her attention back to de Gris.

“The surprise attack on the square and fires have cut deeply into our numbers,” Camille said. “Even with Betty’s tropes, I don’t know how we can undo the damage that’s been done. Perhaps if Dragon had stayed…”

“Dragon had his own business to attend to,” de Gris said sharply. “And we aren’t going to use those ships to attack. Betty has decided—-and I agree—-that it’s time for our squad to pull out. Reinforcements should be arriving from the Venn Islands within the week, and we’re needed elsewhere.”

A murmur of surprise rippled through the room, and de Gris continued, “Betty’s people are gathering those who wish to escape the island, and we are to help escort them to safety with a coordinated rearguard action. Those who wish to continue the liberation effort will flee from the city to an underground cave system to the north and hopefully live to fight another day.”

“You can’t just leave them.”

Aria de Gris looked up even as Kuina regretted the words that came out of her mouth, but to her immense surprise a few heads around the table bobbed in agreement.

“We stopped them once, we can do it again,” Dara said, putting a hand on Kuina’s shoulder. Her facepaint was worse for wear, smeared in some places and scraped off entirely in others, but that didn’t put a damper on her determination. “I was out there all day, and they’re no stronger than before. They caught us by surprise. That doesn’t mean they won.”

“This isn’t about winning,” de Gris said. Her voice was cold and her eyes shifted into the same ugly look they had upon arriving at Tolouse. Elizabeth, who happened to be nearest to her, took a small step to the side, until she was touching elbows with Clara Cross.

“This isn’t about winning,” she repeated after taking a deep, cleansing breath. “Our current position is indefensible. Military reinforcements will soon arrive from outside the city, and with them is a civilian army that thinks we killed their king in cold blood. The ones Betty had been grooming to take over once we secured control were murdered when the authorities purged the unions. Even here, half the men on our side believe we set the fires that destroyed their homes and killed their loved ones. If Betty were to use her ability now, there’s a fifty-fifty chance the riots would turn on the Revolution.

“There are powers at play trying very hard to ensure that we do not claim this island. For God’s sake, use your brain,” de Gris said harshly. “Why do you think Dragon came to the East Blue? Hell, why do you think he brought us to the East Blue, if he didn’t expect some sort of foul play?”

“Then why didn’t he stick around?” Elizabeth demanded.

“Because he thought we won,” Camille said slowly, comprehension dawning as she put together what de Gris was saying. “Because we all thought we won.”

“I don’t think anyone could have predicted them blowing up their king,” Clara said.

De Gris nodded. “We’ve been had. It’s dangerous for Dragon to stay in any one place for an extended period of time, and I think our enemy realized that when planning their counterattack. If the World Government knew he was in the East Blue for weeks on end they wouldn’t hesitate to send forces after him.”

“As if the marines could defeat Dragon,” Dara snorted.

“The collateral damage would be enormous. Would any of you like to face off against a Buster Call?” She paused for effect as the faces around the table paled. “I thought not.”

Tapping a finger against the map, de Gris continued, “In any case, the Revolution doesn’t overthrow islands with the intention of taking control for ourselves. We follow the will of the people, and, unfortunately, with the stories that have been circulated island-wide, we have lost the war of public opinion. The best thing is to cut our losses and regroup for a prolonged fight elsewhere. And that fight doesn’t include us.”

She fell silent, unease settling over the crew like a lead blanket. Kuina looked down at her sword. For the most part she agreed with de Gris’s logic, but the idea of de Gris abandoning the island didn’t sit well with her. Dara and Camille’s efforts getting Betty’s people ashore safely proved that a handful of skilled fighters could turn the tide of battle. Surely the rebellion on Tolouse needed doctors, and bomb makers, and...and…

God above, she was taking their side. Kuina didn’t even have proof that their war was justified, and she wanted to stay and help them fight it. What was wrong with her? They had promised her passage to the Grand Line, she couldn’t stay here and follow her ambition at the same time.

She wondered how disappointed Zoro would be if he could see her now.

“When’s the retreat?” Danny asked, propping her head up on her chin as she looked down at the map thoughtfully.

“Tonight. I take it the Valor is ready to sail?” de Gris said.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t,” Danny said.

“And our snails? Trini?”

The old woman blinked as she looked up. “I have attempted several frequencies across the natural spectrum den-den mushi are capable of, and each have been jammed. That means there are a large number of horned den-den mushi active, likely spread out across the city.”

“Horned den-den mushi?” Elizabeth asked.

“A new breed of snail, dear, just developed in the last several years. Instead of sending and receiving transmissions, the horn-like protrusions on their bodies instead send bursts of white noise that overload the wavelengths the snails use to communicate. They seem to be quite contrary little creatures.”

“Seem?” de Gris said. “You’ve never handled them?”

“Until today, no.”

Trini pulled a snail from the pocket of her apron and set it on the table. It was smaller than the snail typically used for making calls, but larger than a baby den-den mushi. Two small protrusions stuck out on either side, just below the head. Twin eyestalks glared balefully up Trini, as if showing how little it appreciated being stuffed in an old woman’s pocket.

“One of the lads found him on a windowsill. Bless his heart, he brought it here not even thirty minutes ago thinking it was one of mine that had run away. As if any snail of mine would be so ornery,” Trini said. She looked back up at de Gris regretfully. “My dear, someone brought it here, likely after the barricades were placed.”

“Dear god, that means…” Danny breathed. She suddenly cut herself, unable to bring herself to say aloud what the presence of enemy snails in the heart of the Revolutionary’s stronghold meant.

“If possible, Aria, I would like more,” Trini said. “They would be invaluable to the Revolution going forward.”

“That would necessitate finding the little beasts,” de Gris said, but even then a thoughtful look crossed over her face.”

“All the literature I’ve read suggests their range is limited. And, if I might add, they block all signals, not just ours. Considering the dearth of homing pigeons of late, I can only assume that Tolouse’s network is working without difficulty,” Trini said. “The one time I was able to contact you while at sea, I happened to be outside the barricades. I believe that if the Revolution leaves the city entirely, communications should be restored without need for further intervention.”

“Assuming no one brings the little bastards along with them,” de Gris said, her eyes narrowed into slits. Her crew didn’t say a word as she silently fumed.

Suddenly de Gris slammed a fist against the table, throwing bobbins into the air and making the wood crack under the blow. “They’ve had us outplayed from the very beginning,” she said darkly. “Trini, go to Betty with what you’ve found. I want this hellhole scoured for any more of those snails before we move. Clara, get back to the wounded. Make it so that those who are healthy enough to travel can travel. Camille, Danny, get to the Valor and make sure she’s ready for a hasty exit. Dara, there should be some scouts ensuring our path of retreat is clear, I want you to help them. Elizabeth, I want anyone who comes after the Revolution’s retreat to run into some surprises along the way. Understood?”

There were a few snapped salutes, a few more, yes ma’ams, and de Gris’s crew gathered their belongings and started for the exit. Kuina alone stayed in place, closing her eyes as the Revolutionary women brushed past her to leave. Someone clasped their hand on her shoulder, but her thoughts were too jumbled to try and figure out who.

In seconds she was alone with de Gris. Slowly Kuina opened her eyes, but de Gris didn’t seem to realize that she was still there. She was still staring down at the map as if had the answers that she sought.

“Uhh...” Kuina forced herself to keep her face neutral as de Gris’s head snapped up.

De Gris’s eyes bored into her, but Kuina got the feeling that it was looking without really seeing. Her mind was too busy elsewhere. “”What do you want?”

“Am I supposed to just go with Danny?” Kuina asked. You said this was an army. What are my orders?

De Gris let out a heavy breath, fingers tapping impatiently against the table. Her eyebrows knit together in an unhappy line. “No…” she said slowly. “We need strong swords to help escort the ones who are fleeing. They’re just ordinary people. Most don’t know how to hold themselves in a fight, and I can’t trust the few who do to keep a clear head in a sticky situation.”

She paused then. So long that Kuina wondered if she’d been dismissed, but before she could take her leave, de Gris said in a low voice, “I can’t promise I can get you to the Grand Line after this.”

Kuina froze in place.

“There’s too much here that doesn’t make sense. Too many resources being used to ensure we don’t win this island. I’m not going to be satisfied with running away with my tail tucked between my legs without bloodying their nose first. My pride won’t allow it. Do you understand, Swordsman?”

“You promised,” Kuina said, the buzz in her ears making her voice sound faint and very far away. “Dragon promised!”

“I know,” de Gris said. “That’s why I’m telling you I want you on that boat with the rest of the refugees. It’s headed for a Revolutionary stronghold at the entrance of the Grand Line. From there, you’re free to do as you please.”

At first Kuina didn’t hear the words that came out of her mouth. But when they pierced through her defensive walls of anger she deflated like a punctured balloon. “You’re going to just...let me go? Even after seeing one of your bases?”

De Gris showed what she thought about Kuina selling the Revolution out with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “You said it yourself—the marines don’t like people who beat up their officers, even if the information’s good. I don’t know if that shot would have hit Elizabeth earlier today, but you saved me from having to find out. The Revolution saved your ass at Loguetown, but you’ve paid that debt. A life for a life.” She chuckled darkly to herself. “Hell, if you wanted to go out there and fight for the Tolouse army I wouldn’t stop you. But I don’t think that’s what you want, is it?”

“No, of course not.” Getting to the Grand Line was all that mattered.

“Then get out of my sight. God willing, we’ll never have to see one another again.”

Kuina’s frown deepened. It would take hours to organize the retreat. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t cross paths before then.

Unless…

“You told everyone else what their jobs were,” Kuina said carefully, “but you never said what you’re planning to do in all this mess.”

A wolfish grin spread across de Gris’s face. “You need to get your ears checked, kid. I told you already—there are some people out there who deserve to get their noses bloody, and I’m going to make sure they get what’s coming to them.”

She turned back to the table and carefully rolled up the map. Recognizing the dismissal when she saw it, Kuina left the shop, not sure if she should be apprehensive or jealous.

Elizabeth was just outside the doorway, talking with a Revolutionary in a fox helmet. Kuina stopped, a feeling that was strangely familiar to regret washing over her. It would have been so much easier if these were bad people, but they weren't. Making a snap decision, Kuina slung her bag from her shoulder and rummaged through its contents until she found a

her few remaining bills that had survived falling into the sea.

She counted out five hundred berries and shoved them into Elizabeth’s hand, ignoring the girl’s indignant, and then confused look as she stalked away.

After all, a swordsman always paid their debts.

Xxx

The Revolutionary Kuina was partnered with described sewers as the arteries of a city. Smelly, dirty arteries that were barely passable for a healthy, able-bodied person, and the majority of the men, women, and children that fleeing Tolouse couldn’t rightly be called either.

Kuina was glad that she didn’t have the thankless task of choosing between who had the opportunity to flee and the ones forced to stay. The Revolution didn’t have nearly enough ships to accommodate those whose homes had been destroyed, and even if they did, they had to be cautious who they allowed into their secret bases scattered throughout the world.

Instead she and a man called Azem shuffled small clusters of people through the city’s underground. They were one of several teams, each taking different routes to the various boats hidden up and down the coast. The hope was that the Revolutionaries above would provide enough of a distraction to the army for them to get away safely, but the depleted numbers of the Revolution meant they had to move quickly or risk being overrun.

That was a task easier said than done. Many of the people Kuina guided were in shock, some refusing to acknowledge that they may never return to their homes. Some screamed when they were forced to leave behind treasured belongings too heavy or awkward to carry. Kuina heard enough ungrateful grumbling to last a thousand lifetimes, and those who didn’t complain wept, an overwhelming sense of fear exuding from them that was more pungent than the foulness they were forced to travel through.

It was exhausting in a way her training had never prepared her for. Kuina made the last trip with a boy strapped across her back, his little arms like vice grips around her neck. Even though she could scarcely breathe, Kuina didn’t chastise him. Strangulation was better than him crying, which seemed inevitable by his hitched, haggard breathing every time she adjusted his weight on her back.

Clasped around her hand, equally tight, was the boy’s older sister. Kuina didn’t like having only one hand free for her sword, but the girl had refused to move unless she had someone to hold on to, and no one else volunteered for the task. The clothes of both children were well cared for and they lacked the thin-limbed, gaunt look of hunger, which meant that they had had someone to watch over them at one point in time, but who that person was Kuina had no idea. Asking had made fat tears fall down the girl’s face, and she eventually decided she was better off not knowing.

Every few minutes the walls of the sewer would shake and rumble from an explosion above ground, each one dislodging bits of mortar and grime overhead and sending a jolt of increased urgency and anxiety through their small group. It was in those tensest moments that Kuina was most grateful for Azem. He was a jovial, middle aged man who chose to go without a mask, going from person to person encouraging them onward, helping stragglers, and generally keeping this last group from panicking.

It was miserable, thankless work, but finally they reached the metal rungs that would lead them to safety. Azem climbed first, pausing to listen at the cover of the manhole before lifting it aside.

“Hurry,” he urged. “There’s not much time—”

A blinding flash of light flashed in the sky above, followed immediately by a roar of fire. Those trying to flee screamed, and Kuina had to catch one who tried to run back through the tunnels even as the girl at her side tried to bury her head in Kuina’s shirt.

Azem was knocked from the ladder and landed awkwardly on the walkway below. He cried out in pain, immediately clutching at his leg.

“We’re dead! They’ve found us and now we’re dead!” a woman screamed shrilly.

“No one’s dying!” Kuina snapped. She threw the attempted runaway back into the group and pried the children off of her body, handing them off to the nearest person who seemed willing to take them before rushing to Azem.

His right leg was obviously broken, but the bone hadn’t cut through the skin. Breathing a prayer for small mercies, Kuina looked up at the uncovered manhole. The moon was bright enough to break through the haze of smoke and ash. No further sounds of fighting filtered down below, and Kuina took a deep breath.

“It looks like it was an unlucky shot,” she said, keeping her voice calm and firm. She felt dozens of eyes boring into her back as she tried to think. “I’m going up to double check. Everyone stay put—running now probably will get you killed.”

She crouched down to Azem and asked quietly, “Did you hurt anything other than the leg?”

“No,” he gasped. “I don’t think so.”

Remembering one of the tricks the doctors used back at the Oldtown hospital, Kuina checked for the pulse by his ankle and found it was still strong. He was getting blood to his foot. With nothing here to help brace it, the best thing to do was probably get him to the ships to be looked after by someone who knew what they were doing.

That meant exiting the sewers.

Taking a deep breath, Kuina began to climb, straining her ears to hear anything that might have been amiss. When she reached the surface she lifted her head out carefully. She could hear the sound of fighting, but it was still in the distance. Chewing on her bottom lip, Kuina thought hard. The Tolouse Army was never supposed to get this close. Another misfired rocket could kill her whole group, but she didn’t know any other way to the ships.

They would have to be fast, but she couldn’t let them panic. Kuina lowered herself back into the tunnel.

“Definitely an unlucky shot,” she hissed. “Come on, we’re close now.”

The people looked at one another, naked fear in their expressions, but after a few tense seconds the man who’d tried to run stepped to the rungs. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not staying here.”

After that, they started fighting one another to escape. With her partner unable to organize the chaos below, it was all Kuina could do to pull them out of the hole as fast as they could climb. With her sword sheathed and her back to any potential enemy, the minutes passed with agonizing slowness, but Kuina was able to at least get them all out of the sewers.

All except Azem.

The sound of the battle grew louder. In her gut, Kuina knew that they only had before their position would be exposed. Her eyes flickered from the refugees to Azem and back again, while the people waited anxiously for her to tell them what to do.

“Do you remember where you’re going?” Kuina asked. A few nodded their heads hesitantly. “Then run. When you reach the ship tell the Revolutionaries to prepare ready to sail; I’ll be right behind you.”

Without waiting for their response, Kuina went down to the tunnel. Azem’s eyes bulged at the sight of her. “What are you doing?” he exclaimed. “The mission—”

“Do you want to die?” Kuina said sharply. “Because if I leave you here, that’s what’s going to happen.”

Kuina glanced up, but the shadows of the refugees were already gone. She hoped the little boy had found someone to carry him.

“My life isn’t what’s important here,” Azem said. “Besides, how the hell do you expect to get me out of here? You’ve condemned us both.”

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Kuina threw Azem over her shoulder. He bit back a groan, and without waiting for him to argue, Kuina began to climb.

It was neither elegant nor easy, but Kuina managed to get Azem out of the sewers. The fighting was even closer now. Kuina hadn’t managed more than a few steps before she heard someone yell, followed closely by the rapport of a rifle.

Kuina had no choice. She ran, the sound of her feet pounding against the ground in rhythm with the thundering of her heart. She smelt blood, but didn’t know where it was coming from. She ignored it. She ignored everything but the urge to run.

A bullet passed by overhead. Cursing, Kuina ducked down and forced herself faster. She could see the ocean now, and the silhouette of the Revolutionary’s ship against the backdrop of the rising moon. She was so close she could taste it…

A shadowy figure stepped out of the darkness and raised a gun. Kuina tried to stop, but she was going too fast, Azem’s weight making her clumsy. The flash of the muzzle blinded her vision, bullet missing her by inches.

When Kuina finally stopped, she recognized Danny’s terrified face. The shipwright fired twice more, and behind her, Kuina heard someone scream. A broken laugh bubbled through the terror.

“What are you doing?” Kuina screamed. “You’re supposed to be at the ship!”

“I...I couldn’t do it,” Danny said. “I can’t keep living like this. Weren’t you listening earlier? There a traitor leaking information to the marines. I know how Aria is. She won’t stop until she gets everyone under her command killed trying to figure out who.”

Danny fired twice more, and would have kept firing, except she’d run out of bullets. She had the wide-eyed look of a spooked horse and obviously wasn't thinking clearly. Kuina risked a glance behind her and swore. The battle was coming to them, and there was no time left to argue.

“Hold on Azem, almost there,” Kuina whispered, and once again she ran, grabbing Danny as she passed.

“I knew you’d understand,” she gasped. “That’s why I waited, I was so scared when you didn’t come with the rest, I thought you’d gone back to fight…”

“Less talking, more running,” Kuina growled. “I can’t carry the both of you—”

Sudden pain exploded in the back of her head. She barely felt the jolt as she collapsed to her knees, Azem sliding out of her arms, and was unconscious before ever hitting the ground

Xxx

Kuina woke in a dark, dingy room that smelled of shit and sweat. Clumsily she brought a hand to the back of her head, only to have it come back wet and sticky with blood. Even in the darkness she could feel the press of humanity around her, too many bodies in too close a space.

Someone had taken her sword.

“Wha...what happened?” she groaned. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she felt the gentle rock of water. A ship. She was on a ship.

Beams of moonlight came in from a hatch above, where bars of iron locked them away from their freedom. So not just a ship, she was in a brig. Groggily, Kuina got to her feet and looked around her, lurching forward without having any real idea where she was going.

Someone tugged on her shirt. Kuina looked down to see the girl she’d helped guide through the sewers. De Gris said the Revolution had commandeered a military vessel, but there was no reason to force the refugees into a literal prison. Unless that was their way of hiding them until they reached their base on the Grand Line? It was the only explanation that made sense. Kuina couldn’t think. It hurt too much.

“Danny?” she groaned. “Azem?”

“They brought you in alone,” a man said hoarsely. Kuina recognized him, too. He’d tried to run away when Azem fell. The shadows of the night made the hollows of his cheeks seem deeper, his eyes more hopeless.

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Kuina said.

“They captured us. Now they’re going to take us with all the rest.”

The words made someone else burst into a sob. Kuina looked all around, but only grew more confused. None of them were bound, yet they weren’t trying to escape. Nor was anyone in hysterics, or screaming for help. All around her Kuina saw faces drawn in weary resignation, as if they weren’t surprised by this turn of events.

“Take us with all the rest...where?” Kuina asked.

The man laughed a thin, reedy laugh. “They didn’t tell you? All criminals on Tolouse get shipped to Tequila Wolf. Damn you and your revolution, at least back home we could have died like men. You people have—” He cut himself off suddenly and turned his back on Kuina. “I hope you’re happy with yourself. Because of you, we’re all going to die.”

Kuina felt as if she’d been plunged in a bucket of ice water, but anger fueled by pain and confusion quickly burned through the shock. “No one forced you to come. You could have stayed and fought for your home, but you chose to flee. That’s not my fault.”

“I saw my wife burn!” the man screamed. “What was I supposed to do? I was a bricklayer, for god’s sake. I don’t know how to hold a sword or fire a gun. I didn’t ask for you to come, I didn’t want to fight!”

He came so close that Kuina began to see double, and for a moment it looked as if he might try to hit her. Kuina didn’t flinch as he grabbed a fist full of her jacket. Didn’t look away from the anguish burning in his eyes.

The only sound was of his labored breathing, his breath hot on her face. Still Kuina did not move. Then, all at once, his lip quivered, a tear slipping from the corner of his eye. Kuina could do nothing as the man in front of her broke. Her jacket slid through his fingers as he slumped to his knees, face crumpled in abject misery before he buried it in his arms and wept.

“I remember when they took my uncle,” a woman said. “They stole him right from his bed, and we never saw him again.”

“The bastards got my best friend. Said he’d been stirring up sedition, whatever that means,” another said bitterly. “Found out later it was someone else handing out those fliers, but when we went to the judge asking them to bring him back he said there was nothing he could do.”

Others murmured in agreement, telling stories of other people They had gotten in the samed hushed tones children used for ghost stories, and with the same bone-chilling effect. Unease setting her teeth on edge, Kuina kneeled down to the man in front of her. Body-wracking sobs had overtaken him, and no matter what she did, Kuina couldn’t get him to even look at her.

The little girl pressed closer to her side, eyes wide as saucers. Kuina looked down at her and asked, “I don’t suppose you can tell me what Tequila Wolf is?”

When she spoke, the words came out in a little puff of air that scarcely bridged the distance between them. “It’s a place where bad people go until they learn how to be good.”

If the stories swirling around them were any indication, being good was a feat few managed to achieve. Head pounding, Kuina got to her feet and tried to think. The ship wasn’t sailing yet, but likely would be soon. She had to strain, but she could still hear the sounds of battle. Which she supposed was a good thing as it meant the Revolution hadn’t been overrun, but the plan had only been for short, distracting skirmishes to pull the Tolouse army’s attention away from the various retreats. They weren’t prepared to get dragged into a headon clash tonight.

There’s a traitor. Danny’s words rang in Kuina’s mind. That must have been how they knew to target the transport ships. Kuina didn’t know if any of the other ship’s locations had been compromised, but had to assume the worst. The Revolution’s closest reinforcements were still on the Venn Islands. No one was coming to rescue them once they got out to sea.

“Where’s your brother?” Kuina asked.

The girl shrugged. “They said he was too little and took him away. Can you find him? Please?”

Boots marched on the decks overhead. Over the murmuring of the captives Kuina heard the orders to raise anchor. Her eyes darted around looking for some escape, but it was a brig. Even if she stood on someone’s shoulders she didn’t think she’d be tall enough to reach the metal bars separating her from freedom.

If only I had my sword. But no. They’d taken it from her, along with her backpack and mask, and with her time and options dwindling to nothing, Kuina didn’t know what she was supposed to do.

It quickly became apparent that she couldn’t escape on her own, and the people around her were too busy wallowing in their own misery to be of much help. If she were somehow able to convince the sailors above she wasn’t a Revolutionary then maybe they might let her go, but based on the stories she was hearing even that seemed doubtful.

Kuina’s thought up and discarded several ideas in rapid succession, each more unlikely than the last, until she stumbled upon an idea that was insane enough to be worth trying. Not giving herself a chance to second guess her own stupidity, Kuina pushed through the crowd of people until she was directly under the hatch and bellowed at the top of her lungs,

“My name is Master Chief Petty Officer Tashigi of the 223rd Division, and I demand to speak with the captain of this ship!”

Ignoring the gasps of surprise from the Tolouse refugees, she cupped her hands against her face and repeated her demand. Her heart sank as she got no immediate answer, but she had never been one to let something as trifling as disappointment stop her before. Kuina bellowed her doppleganger’s name and rank again and again and again, until her voice cracked and her throat burned. Even if they did not believe her, Kuina hoped to at least annoy them enough to send someone to shut her up.

It took a few minutes of arduous effort, but eventually a head leaned over the iron bars, casting a shadow over Kuina. “Quit your hollering,” the sailor snapped. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish, but I know for a fact there ain’t no marines in Tolouse.”

“I’m not from Tolouse you imbecile,” Kuina retorted. She tried to ape the same haughty manner she saw in the officers that came through Loguetown. It took a certain level of imperiousness that the real Tashigi had never managed to grasp, but this idiot wouldn’t know the difference. “Under the orders of Captain Smoker, I infiltrated a Revolutionary ship docked at Loguetown pretending to be a sympathizer. We had hoped to find out what the Revolutionary leader Dragon was doing stinking up our waters and would have notified local authorities through the proper channels if someone hadn’t decided to put horned snails all over the city.”

“The marines know better than to—”

“Do you think Captain Smoker has ever let anyone tell him what to do?” Kuina said, somehow managing to keep her voice cool and collected even as she scrambled for excuses. “I’m sure he’ll be pleased as punch when I tell him you assholes forced me to blow my cover. Or would you rather wait until I get to Tequila Wolf to deliver that bit of news?”

The sailor gulped. It seemed that Smoker’s reputation traveled farther than expected.

“I’m waiting,” Kuina said after giving the implications sink in properly.

“I, uh...I need to run this by my captain,” the sailor said. “If you don’t mind, can I have your identification number, just to be safe?”

Kuina gave it, having memorized Tashigi’s military ID through sheer repetition after years of filling paperwork verifying bounties. Between that and all the times Tashigi used Ipponmatsu’s shop to clean her sword, Kuina knew enough of her personal information to satisfy any interrogator, but if they actually contacted the base in Loguetown she was done for.

She held her breath as the sailor disappeared. Kuina hardly paid attention when one of the Tolouse refugees approached, an old woman that Kuina remembered having to carry through parts of the journey through the sewers.

“What is it?” Kuina asked impatiently.

“How dare you,” the woman said, her voice barely contained fury. “How dare the marines show their face here, after all you’ve done.”

She slapped Kuina across the face, hard, and spit at her feet. Kuina brought a hand to her now-burning cheek in shock, saying nothing as a wave of vitriol spilled from the old woman’s mouth. It was only when the woman raised her hand again Kuina moved, effortlessly catching her wrist.

“I let you hit me once, in deference to your age and obvious distress,” Kuina said in a low, dangerous voice, “but I will not suffer that indignity twice. You know nothing about me or my purpose for coming here, so shut up and leave me alone.” She shoved the hand away, causing the old woman to stumble back.

Kuina eyed the rest warily, but they were too afraid to challenge her. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, mixing with the blood from the blow to the back of her skull. Her head pounded, making it hard to think much past the fear.

If I just had my sword…

It felt like an eternity past, but in all likelihood it had only been minutes before the sailor came back, this time with friends. He unlocked the hatch, swinging it open before lowering down a ladder. Kuina climbed her way to freedom, while the sailors used the butts of their rifles to keep any of the other prisoners from doing the same.

Kuina wasn’t sure she had ever been more glad for the fresh sea air, but one look at the sailors showed she wasn’t out of the woods yet. One sailor with a no-nonsense buzz cut and a muscular frame so compact it was nearly square snapped a salute, acting as the leader for the rest. “Our apologies for the inconvenience, Petty Officer, but the captain would like to speak with you.”

“I want my sword,” Kuina said.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but—”

“Someone knocked me unconscious this evening, sailor, and I don’t think it was the Revolution,” Kuina said. “Give me my sword or put me back in the brig and wait for Tequila Wolf. Your choice.”

“I...er, yes, ma’am. What I was trying to say was that your belongings have already been taken to the captain’s quarters.”

“...Oh.” Kuina almost apologized, but managed to stop herself in time. She’d never met a marine who would admit fault if they could help it, Tashigi being the exception that proved that rule. Instead she nodded curtly, and Buzz Cut snapped an order that was hastily obeyed by a pudgy-faced boy who didn’t look old enough to shave.

Kuina glanced out at Tolouse before letting them take her into the captain’s quarters. Explosions burst through the sky like fireworks in a New Year celebration, lighting up a skyline that flickered red and orange. The fires the Revolution had worked so hard to put out were back in full force, and under the light of the moon, Tolouse had transformed to hell on earth. And with the fighting still going in earnest, there wasn’t any way to stop it.

“There was a boy with this group of prisoners, couldn’t have been much older than five,” Kuina said. “Where is he?”

Buzz Cut’s poker face was excellent, his subordinates’, less so. Shame-faced, the pudgy boy opened the door to the captain’s quarters and bid her to enter. Frowning, Kuina squared her shoulders and tried to make herself as intimidating as a person who smelled like a sewer possibly could.

Buzz Cut didn’t even wait for Kuina to fully enter before he began shouting orders. “Prepare to sail. We’ve wasted too much time already.”

“No.”

Buzz Cut turned to Kuina in shock. “Petty Officer, with all due respect—”

“I said no,” Kuina said coldly. “And until I get in contact with Captain Smoker, I’m the voice of the World Government for this entire damn island. Right now you’d have better luck arguing with god than getting me to change my mind.”

Laughter rumbled deep within the captain’s quarters that made a chill crawl up Kuina’s spine. “My, my, my, look how assertive you’ve gotten since we’ve last met. I’ll admit, I didn’t think you had it in you, Petty Officer.”

Sitting behind an ornately carved desk was a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing the long coat and epaulettes of a captain. His face might have been handsome once, but his features had the squashed, lumpy look of a brawler who’d lost more fights than they won. A saber hung at his hip.

“Close the door,” the captain said.

“But sir,” Buzz Cut protested, “our orders…”

“Our orders can wait the few minutes it will take to put our marine friend at ease. Now, shut the door. Please.”

While framed as a request, the order was anything but. Buzz Cut swallowed loudly and did as he was told. When they were alone, the captain reached behind his desk and retrieved Kuina’s sword. “I see you’re as obsessed as ever ‘bout your steel, Petty Officer. Always thought it were a shame you got leashed that wild dog Smoker, and it seems he’s baying just as loud as ever. You deserve a better sort of man than him.”

He laughed again, the sound like a rusty knife drug over stone. Confused and more than a little suspicious, Kuina quickly inspected its blade. When she was satisfied it hadn’t been damaged or tampered with, Kuina hung it at her hip.

“Do I know you?” she asked. The words had hardly escaped her lips before she regretted them, but the man snorted.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already, Petty Officer. It’ll wound me manly pride.” His grin widened, revealing a mouth full of blackened, rotting teeth. “Or are you really that blind without your glasses?”

“I’d like to think I purposefully forgot to save myself the pain of remembering that ugly mug of yours,” Kuina said. “Now identify yourself! What in the world is going on here? Why do you have children in your brig?”

“Is that what this is about?” the man said, sounding disappointed. “Smoker was the same way when I spoke to him last year. You soft-hearted types are why the world’s going to shit. You know as well as I do that age doesn’t matter when it comes to criminals. We have legal justification for every one of those rebels we locked up. Excusing your pretty face, o’ course. Or did you somehow miss the fucking war right outside these doors?”

Kuina balled her hands into fists and didn’t answer.

A look of satisfaction spread across the captain’s face. He bowed slightly, with a little, mocking flourish that made Kuina want to punch him in his ugly, leering face. “Captain Jack O’Neil at your service, of the Callihan Trading Company. It’s a pleasure to remake your acquaintance, Petty Officer. To be honest, it’s been far too long since a lady of your caliber graced these planks, and I’m sorry one of my men had to crack your skull to do it. Once we get this sorted I’ll have my men do everything in our power to ensure your stay on my ship is a comfortable one.”

Kuina’s frown deepened. She’d heard of the CTC—they were forever hanging advertisements near the docks of Loguetown in search of sailors and hired swords to protect their wares from pirates.There’d been a time when she’d been tempted to sign up for a voyage, but when she went to inquire about the post she was laughed out of the room by a pair of burly men with more muscles than sense.

The company dabbled in everything from the spice trade to arms transport and weren’t particularly picky about who they worked for. There were even rumors that pirates and crime lords used them as a front for their smuggling operations, but Kuina had always dismissed them as overblown talk from jealous competitors.

She was beginning to think now that there was some truth behind those allegations.

Jack O’Neil cleared his throat when the silence stretched a beat too long to remain comfortable. “You and I both know that all this destruction could have been avoided if not for these rebels. You agree that the perpetrators need to be punished, doncha, Petty Officer?”

Kuina's eyes hardened. “The boy. Where is he?”

“Expedited sentence,” O’Neil said with a shrug. “Couldn’t be helped, ones that little are no good for hard labor. It’s the same with the known Revolutionaries, they’re too much of a risk to imprison, and the money on their heads is good even if we turn ‘em in cold. It’s just good business. You understand how it is.”

He’d killed him. The monster in front of her had killed a child in cold blood. He’d killed Azem. He’d killed Danny, who regretted joining the Revolution and had been trying to escape a life of violence and death.

Kuina’s world went red.

“No, Captain. I’m afraid I don’t.”

It was now O’Neil’s turn for silence. He squinted down at Kuina, perplexed and exasperated. “Did that blow to the head knock your common sense loose, Petty Officer? I don’t you recall you bein’ half this mouthy before, or didja spend enough time with the menfolk that you finally grew a pair of—”

Kuina struck before he could even think to move. A gurgled scream tore from his lips as O’Neil grasped the wound at the base of his throat. His eyes bulged in terror and pain, one hand trying to stem the bleeding while the other reached for the sword at his side.

Kuina didn’t give him the chance.

Stepping over O’Neil’s rapidly-cooling body. Behind his desk she found her bag, which had obviously been searched through and hastily repacked, and her mask. She put the latter in her bag after wrapping it in a shirt to keep it from breaking and slung it over her shoulder.

She wanted them to see her face before they died.

A den-den mushi at the corner of O’Neil’s desk caught her eye. It was attached to a machine that allowed faxes, and Kuina laughed when she saw that it hadn’t been used. The idiot captain hadn’t bothered to verify her story, trusting that he’d be able to recognize Tashigi on sight.

There were papers, too. Logs and ledgers and a map of the area. Kuina was in the process of stuffing them in her backpack when the door to the office opened, revealing the face of the pudgy boy.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Mo wanted to know if we had permission to set sail yet. He says it’s getting bad…”

His voice trailed off into a whisper as his eyes followed the path of blood from O’Neil to Kuina. He stood, slack jawed and wide-eyed, swaying gently on his feet as if he were about to faint.

“Whu...what happened?”

Kuina leveled her sword at the boy. “Get off this ship, or I will kill you.”

The boy flinched. Kuina didn’t know if it was an attempt to draw his weapon or a visceral response to fear, but she took no chances. The boy screamed as she darted forward, but remained firmly rooted in place. He quickly joined his captain in death.

The advantage of stealth was gone with the cry of alarm. If nothing else, the men waiting on deck were professionals and quickly recovered from their initial shock. Kuina dodged the blow from a cutlass, her counter catching him on the wrist. The sailor screamed, clutching the bloody stump where his hand used to be.

“Call the alarm!” Buzz Cut bellowed, deflecting Kuina’s katana as she rushed toward him. “Bring reinforcements!”

Kuina ducked to avoid another slash, and was forced to roll to avoid being shot. She cursed as more men crawled out of the bowels of the ship like ants from an overturned hill. She disentangled herself from a block and cut down two more, managing to hamstrung a third before crossing blades with Buzz Cut once more.

“What are you doing?” he screamed. “We’re on the same side!”

“I don’t think we are,” Kuina said coldly. With a twist of her wrist she batted his sword aside and ran him through.

That was a mistake. Buzz Cut coughed bloody foam as he slumped to the ground, and it took Kuina too long to dislodge her sword from his body. She was forced to twist awkwardly to avoid the crushing blow of a weighted club, and doing so put her right in the path of another sailor’s saber.

Pure reflex saved Kuina from decapitation. She danced away from the saber, trying to keep herself in the middle of a crowd, using the threat of friendly fire to dissuade them from shooting. She was quickly surrounded, and a feral grin spread across her face. A distress flare shot into the night sky, burning boldly over the stolen ship.

This was it. This was where she belonged, with a blade in hand and nothing but her skill and fickle fortune between her from death. All the worry and anxiety of the last week melted away, replaced with pure bloodlust fueled by her fury.

“Gods above, she’s gone mad,” one of the sailors whispered, and the mixture of fear and awe like music to her ears.

It was the last thing she heard for a long time.

Xxx

Kuina came to her senses covered in blood that was not her own. She found herself standing over the Buzz Cut sailor, who was miraculously still alive, gasping erratically and frantically for air. Under the light of the moon the blood that bubbled out of the cut in his chest looked black. Pausing to flick the excess blood off her katana, Kuina kneeled beside him. He couldn’t die yet. Not when there was so much she didn’t know.

“Who hired you?” she asked calmly. “It’s not marines, or else they would have messaged Loguetown. Who’s paining you to murder little children.”

“You’re too late, bitch. Help is coming. Gemini will cut you down.” He looked weakly to the side and laughed. “They’re here already.”

Kuina followed his gaze. Soldiers were marching towards the ship, too many for any one person to deal with. Getting back to her feet, Kuina hurried to the brig. She had to shove aside a body before she could open it and lower the ladder.

“Do any of you know how to sail a ship?” Kuina called. To her surprise, the Tolouse refugees huddled in the corners, packed as close to one another as they could manage and refusing to move. Belatedly she realized they had no idea what happened other than what they’d overheard above. Drops of blood continued to drop down below.

“You’re safe,” she said. “None of them can hurt you, but you need to leave now.”

“And go where?” one asked. “I don’t know who you are, but the Revolutionaries who promised to get us to safety are dead.”

“And you’re about to join them if you don’t hurry up!” Kuina snapped. She looked over her shoulder. The soldiers were even closer now, and her energy was spent. A dozen shallow wounds slowed her movements, the blood loss making her vision hazy. And on top of it all, she had a pounding headache that would not stop.

“Look,” Kuina said to the terrified men and women below, “I can’t tell you where to go. No one, not even the Revolutionary Army, has the right to do that. But what I can do is buy you time to make that decision. For your sake, I hope it’s a quick one.”

She walked to the ship’s railing. The dying sailor laughed as she passed, and in a weak, sneering voice said, “What do you hope to accomplish, brat? They’ll be recaptured within the day. All you’ve done is prolong their execution.”

Kuina paused, looking down at the oncoming army, rage building once more as all the atrocities that she’d seen since arriving to Tolouse flashed through her mind: The bombing of the square, the fires, the desecration of the dead.

She remembered Danny and Azem, and the small, strong hands of the little boy grasping her neck. She remembered, and she felt the weight of unbalanced scales.

A life for a life. It was a saying that went both ways, and for the first time she thought she understood Aria de Gris’s desire to bloody some noses.

Kuina jumped down from the ship and landed in a summersault on the docks. Her arms trembled with fatigue and exhilaration as she raised her sword. She felt the heat and the smoke mix with the mists rolling off of the sea, obscuring the mass of bodies wearing the uniforms of the Tolouse army coming toward her.

Her blood hummed with anticipation. This was what she was made for. This was her purpose. Kuina couldn’t sail a ship. She couldn’t heal wounds or cook food or build ships or inspire others. But she could fight. She loved to fight, loved the synergy between body and blade. There was something beautiful testing her strength against another, her life hanging in the balance.

In the haze Kuina was almost invincible, striking down enemies before they knew she was there. Unlike the frenzied battle of the ship, this cat and mouse style suited the skills she’d honed over her years of bounty hunting.

The difference was she now had nowhere to retreat. Until the ship behind her set sail she couldn’t give up a single inch of ground. For the first time in her life, Kuina could not run.

And for the first time since she was eleven years old, Kuina felt alive.

It didn’t take long for the Tolouse army to retreat from the docks. Kuina couldn’t help but laugh as she caught her breath, allowing herself to believe for a brief moment that she’d won.

Then she heard orders being barked into snail phones, and in the distance saw the flash of matches being lit.

They had cannons.

Kuina jumped in the air in time to intercept the first shot with no thought other than to protect the ship behind her. She screamed as she slashed downward, cutting the iron cannonball neatly in two. The halves exploded on either side of her, momentarily filling the air with brilliant light.

She landed in a predator’s crouch, gasping for air. There was no time to process what she’d just done, because more shots followed the first, punctuated with the sharper fire of rifles.

Kuina cut a second cannonball just as easily as the first, but as she landed a third slammed into the docks behind her. Wood exploded, and the concussive blast of air threw Kuina onto the shore. The air was forced from her lungs, her katana thrown from her grasp. Kuina clasped her hands against her ears to stop the ringing, curled helplessly in a ball.

Get up!

She couldn’t. It hurt too much, and her body was too weak. Kuina dug her fingers into the sand and pushed, but there was nothing left for her to give.

You promised!

She’d promised a lot of things. She’d promised her father that she’d stay safe, and the refugees that she would buy them time, and herself that she would avenge the dead of Tolouse. Kuina had proven herself a liar time and time again. What chance did she have of fulfilling her promise to Zoro if she couldn’t manage something as simple as that?

So get up. Keep fighting.

Kuina groaned, a low, keening noise drawn directly from her soul. She rested her arms against the beach as the last of her strength bled from her limbs. Something brushed against her hand, and instinctively Kuina reached for it.

Her sword.

Kuina’s fingers wrapped around the wrapped leather handle. Was this how she wanted to die, like a dog beaten one too many times? Or would she fight with pride? With honor?

I’m going to be the greatest swordsman in the world, or die trying. Slowly Kuina rose to her feet. Decision made, there was nothing else to worry about. Nothing that required her to think. Bruised and bloody, Kuina raised her sword one last time just as the first rays of dawn spilled over the horizon.

The enemy came, and Kuina defeated them all. She didn’t care if they shot or stabbed at her. She didn’t care about anything at all.

The earlier bloodlust was gone, replaced with the mechanical, instinctive movements of a woman who’d spent her life learning to kill. The sun rose and the bodies multiplied, but Kuina didn’t stop. Cut by cut, slash by slash, the only thing that kept her moving was the strength of her ambition.

She didn’t know how long she lasted before she missed a parry, her opponent’s sword gliding against her arm. She stumbled back into the rising tide, her back hitting one of the few remaining posts of the splintered dock. It was the only thing that kept her upright as she ducked under the following slash. Blackness ate at the edge of her vision, her lungs burning for want of air. She knew she wouldn’t be able to raise her sword in time.

Her opponent looked just like all the rest, just another young man wearing the grey uniform of the Tolouse army. There was nothing to differentiate him from the hundreds of others she’d seen since the night began. And yet, he would be the one to kill her.

Kuina laughed at the absurdity of it all.

The man yelled as he swung his sword. Kuina closed her eyes and waited, smile still spread across her face. But instead of death there was only a choked scream and the sound of a full grown man falling into the water.

Kuina blinked her eyes open. A figure in full armor, helmet shaped like a roaring lion, pulled a thin blade from the young soldier’s back. Kuina blinked again as the rising sun glinted off the polished steel, seeing but not understanding.

Then she felt it, a presence like wind swirling around the eye of a hurricane. Whoever this person was, was the real deal. A true swordsman.

“Wanna fight?” Kuina gasped, drawing enough energy to spit a mouth full of blood into the sea before raising her sword.

“It’s over, kid. You did good.”

“Did...good?” Kuina tried to take a step forward, but her vision went sideways. The armored swordsman caught her before she hit the ground. When Kuina looked up again the helmet was gone, and she stared into the dark eyes of Aria de Gris.

“C’mon. Let’s get you home.”

#one piece #One Piece Fanfiction #creative-type writes #kuina #wake from death (and return to life)

4 notes · View notes

thenovelartist · 5 years

Text

Falling for the Dork, set 3

<<Previous set Next set>>

8. A Favor Only You Can Do

When Marinette called and asked him for a favor, the only correct answer was yes. He didn’t even know what he was doing other than going over to Marinette’s house, but that didn’t matter because she was his best friend and if she needed something, he’d happily assist.

“Honey, I’m home!” he called out teasingly as he headed up to her room.

When he caught sight of her, she was beet red and her smile was forced. “Uhh… welcome home?”

Her forced smile was much more of a cringe now. Adrien felt like that was his fault because all Marinette seemed to do lately was blush in front of him. If he knew how to approach the subject of what was happening to his best friend, he would. However, he had enough social skills to know that asking a woman why she blushed all the time was not the way to handle anything.

So, he ignored it and did his best to try to make her relaxed around him by being the biggest dork possible. “You called; I came. What do you need help with?”

Marinette gave him a half smile. “Well… do you know that design competition I entered?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” She tapped the tips of her index fingers together, unable to look him in the eye. “Turns out… you can either send pictures of your clothes on the mannequin… or with a model. But models are highly encouraged.”

Adrien nodded. “And…”

Her blue eyes looked up at him through her long lashes. “Would you be my model?”

Instantly, his mind went blank. She wanted him to be her model? Like, try to look like one of those ridiculous pretty-but-self-centered jerks his father hired for the sole purpose of looking beautiful? “Uh…” Adrien paused, his mind working.

“It’s okay if you don’t!” Marinette quickly said. “I don’t want to pressure you or anything.”

“You think I’m good enough to?”

Marinette’s jaw proceeded to drop to the floor. “Y…you’re kidding me, right?”

Adrien shook his head. He knew he was somewhat good looking, but model-worthy? If he was worthy enough, his father would have definitely asked him to model for the company by now.

“If I didn’t think you were good enough, I wouldn’t have asked you.”

His heart skipped at that. “Really?”

She blushed. “Yeah.”

Absently, Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. When she put it that way, there was absolutely no way he could turn her down. “Okay. What do you need me to do?”

A few minutes later, Adrien was changing into the ensemble that Marinette had put together for him. When he glanced at himself in her bathroom mirror, he had to admit he looked good. Marinette was a fantastic designer and no one could say otherwise.

He stepped out of the bathroom and back to her room. He gave her a spin for approval. “Well?”

She looked intently at him, fingers tapping her lips in thought. No longer was she blushy; she was in full designer mode. “Come here.”

He did as directed, only to become vaguely uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. She reached for his glasses, carefully taking them off his face and sparking a fire in his cheeks. She then ran her fingers through his hair, and he felt his face positively flame. Not so much because of the action itself.

More because he didn’t want her to stop.

Even though his vision was blurry and his heart was pounding, he could imagine in perfect clarity the proud smile Marinette was giving him. “Yes, you’ll do purr-fectly.”

His heart skipped an odd beat. As it always did on the rare occasion she broke out the puns.

What was going on with him today? Why couldn’t he just pull himself together?

“Now,” she directed, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Stand still and let me tailor all the outfits I have to fit you perfectly. Then, it should be all ready in a couple days for you to come over again and let me take pictures.”

Five days later, after a busy Saturday of him helping her take his own pictures, Adrien finally got to see all the photos she took. It was kinda hard to miss when they decorated the entire wall above her desk.

He denied that he felt a pang of loss when Marinette took all them down the next week for some reason. However, he learned on accident that she kept a few pinned on the corkboard next to her bed and the rest hidden safely under her mattress. That little fact was enough to satisfy the oddly angry beast that had been so unsettled inside him.

9. �� Birthday Gifts

Adrien had been preparing for this for months. It was Marinette’s birthday this week, meaning the class was thinking up presents. The girls talked about girly things or sewing notions or whatnot. But Adrien had a plan. A plan that he’d been hatching for months and was preparing to execute.

On his way to the fabric store, Nino had shot him a text begging for help on what to get Marinette. Adrien smirked.

I have an idea. Adrien texted. I’ll pick them up for you and then you can take the credit.

I can get them. Nino texted back. What is it?

Needles for her sewing machine. Her last one is dull. I’m heading to a fabric store now. Want me to pick up the ones she needs?

There was a long pause. How do you know this? Sewing needles go dull?

Adrien smirked. Yes they do depending on the fabric and how much you use the needle. Marinette has been complaining about fabric getting sucked into her machine and she’s done everything else to fix it meaning the needle is dull. And if she had more, she would have replaced it and wouldn’t be complaining.

Dude. Nino texted back. How do you know this?

Adrien chuckled. I KNOW things ;)

Freaky. I’ll meet you there so I can at least put effort into getting them.

K. Then I’ll help you find the ones specifically for her machine.

There’s different kinds?

Adrien just laughed. Oh, Nino had no idea.

He sent off an answer of yes there are a lot of different kinds. Just meet me here and I’ll help you.

After telling Nino exactly which store he was heading into, Nino sent him back a text with a thumbs up emoji and a be there asap. But watching little bro now. Waiting for mom to come back.

That’s fine, Adrien texted back after stepping foot in the store and suddenly feeling overwhelmed, which was a rare thing for him. I’ll be here a while.

It was Adrien’s first time in a fabric store, meaning he really had no clue what he was doing or where anything was. However, he had a list of fabrics and yardages that Marinette estimated she would need for each design she constantly talked about. It had been risky sneaking look-sees in her sketchbook to get them without her being the wiser.

This trip would not go to waste.

A solid two hours later scouring the store and comparing fabric, he finally had collected the bolts he needed. Meaning now he had to take a number and wait in line to get said fabric cut.

And from the looks of it, he was going to be here another two hours.

“Dude,” Nino called, tapping Adrien’s shoulder. “Sorry. Mom had me watching my little bro so I had to wait for her to get back.”

“No prob,” Adrien dismissed with a wave. “Took me that long just to find everything and now I have a line to wait for to get the lengths cut.”

“What number are you?”

“Fifty-nine.”

Nino frowned. “Twenty-some people ahead of you?”

“Yup. And don’t look suspicious as you take a look at that group of quilters over there.”

“How do you know they’re quilters?”

“I just do.”

Nino was subtle, pretending he was glancing past the five gray-haired ladies chatting in a circle, each of their carts filled to the brim with fabric bolts.

“Ouch, dude,” Nino whispered, turning back to Adrien.

“Yup. Let’s go shop for needles. And then you’re staying with me until I can get this cut, ‘cause it’s gonna be a while.”

“You saved my butt with this. I owe you at least that much.”

…

Marinette was very thankful to Nino about the sewing needles. “I don’t know who told you, but you are a lifesaver and I love you.”

“You’re welcome,” Nino said, beaming in pride.

When Marinette wasn’t looking, Nino nodded at Adrien in a way that said thanks, bro.

Adrien shot back a wink.

“Last one,” Alya said, shoving the gift box into Marinette’s lap. “And it’s huge.”

“You didn’t go overboard, did you, Adrien?” she asked with a smile, though Adrien could see the seriousness behind it.

“No,” he dismissed. In truth, it was likely she would see his actions as ‘going overboard’, but she was his first real friend and his ultimate best friend, so he really didn’t see an issue going what she would consider ‘overboard’ if he didn’t consider it overboard.

She undid the bow on top of the box, unwrapping the thick ribbon so she could open the box.

Her face lit up immediately at the cut of ladybug print fabric that lay on top. She pulled it out and began inspecting it. “You remembered?” she squealed excitedly.

Adrien nodded. “Of course. You love that design.”

“You’re amazing!”

“Marinette,” Alya broke in. “Looks like there’s more.”

Marinette seemed shocked by that statement, but dove back in, her smile slowly fading with each cut she pulled out. “You went overboard!” she cried once all five swaths of fabric were on out of the box.

“No,” he said. “That’s only enough to make the ladybug sundress, the blouse, the skirt—”

“Adrien,” she interrupted. “No. You didn’t need—”

“I don’t care,” Adrien said, talking over her again. “I wanted to get that for you—”

“But Adrien—”

“No! Just take it.”

“It’s too much.”

“Well, I can’t take it back.”

Marinette glowered at him.

Adrien grinned. “You’re my best friend,” he said. “Let me get this for you.”

After a short stare-off, Marinette looked back at the pile of fabric. And sighed. She stood, walked over to Adrien, and wrapped her arms around his torso. “Thank you,” she said.

His heart skipped a beat, and Adrien happily wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her against him. “You’re welcome, Marinette. Happy Birthday.”

10. Puns

It was the first day out of school for summer vacation, and Marinette spent the day at Adrien’s house because playing video games was a lot more fun on his huge screen.

Eventually, Marinette pulled out the snacks that she’d brought to munch on, which allowed her the time to finally ask the question she had had on her mind a while. “Is that a new cat pun shirt?”

Adrien looked down at the blue shirt with three cartoon cats piled on top of on another with the caption ‘purramid’. “No. I’ve had this one a while.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

“You haven’t seen half my collection, probably.”

Marinette quirked a brow. “Really?” she asked dubiously. “Because I think I’ve seen enough that you could probably go a solid month wearing cat pun tees and not wear the same one twice.”

Adrien smirked. “You doubt the extensiveness of my carefully procured cat pun t-shirt collection?”

“I’m going to regret this.”

“Come on.”

Adrien took her hand in his, and Marinette felt a blush rise to her cheeks at the contact. Something in the back of her mind was screaming He’s holding my hand! He likes me! while the more rational part of her mind reminded her Keep it together, loon. He’s just leading you to his closet.

A closet that was twice the size of her and her parents closet combined.

“Here we go,” Adrien said, pointing to a line of tee shirts. “For your purr-rusal.” He shot her a wink, and she rolled her eyes even though her heart was going wild.

Within two minutes, she learned that Adrien had been right: his collection was extensive. More extensive than she realized. There were the ones she’d seen such as ‘you’ve cat to be kitten me right meow’ or cats in boxes with ‘I fits, I sits’ or cats with sunglasses that said ‘Cattitude’.

And then there were the ones she hadn’t seen before.

“Really?” She pulled out one that said ‘Catffee’ with a bunch of coffee drinks labeled thigs like ‘Catpurrchino’ and ‘Ameowicano’ and ‘Meowca’ on the front. “Really?” Marinette repeated, turning the shirt toward him.

Adrien’s grin widened in pride.

She rolled her eyes and kept looking. There was a cat in a castle with a crown on its head with the caption ‘Chateau’. There was a cat playing with a music note titled ‘Quatre.’

“Get it?” Adrien cried in excitement when she showed that one to him. “It’s a music pun and a cat pun!”

“Where’s the cat pun?”

“In English, they say ‘cat’.”

Marinette’s expression fell.

“It’s funny.”

“No, it’s not.” She put the shirt back and kept looking.

And then there was one that caught her eye that she had to stare at for a good while.

“Are. You. Serious?”

Adrien looked at the shirt and immediately broke out into a wild grin. “Oh yeah! This one’s new. I haven’t had a chance to wear it yet. What do you think?!”

Marinette stared at the shirt, one that had nine cats, each dressed up as characters Marinette didn’t recognize, but she recognized some of the labels. ‘Dragonpaw Z’ and ‘Sailor Mewn’ and ‘Mewrito’ and ‘Fur Mewtal Alcatmist’. “You got a shirt. With cat renditions. Of your favorite animes?”

“Yes!” Adrien practically squealed. “Isn’t it fantastic?”

Marinette stared at the shirt, then back up at him. His glasses were slightly crooked, his cheeks were pink with excitement, and his smile was completely and one hundred percent giddy. He looked like a five-year-old boy instead of a young man of sixteen.

And she was in love with him.

Marinette sighed, a smile breaking across her face. “It’s very you,” she admitted.

“I know! It might just become my favorite shirt ever.”

As he babbled on, Marinette couldn’t help but watch his excited expressions. Her mind tried to capture his joy and tuck it into her memories under ‘things that warm her heart’. Yes, he was such a dork, but honestly, she wouldn’t have him any other way.

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrinette april 2019 #adrienette #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #fluff #dorkiness

390 notes · View notes

celawrites · 4 years

Text

Day 40

It’s Monday when I wake up. I need a cup of coffee and a person to do domestic things with. Oh god, it’s single hours again. I drag my feet through my house, and once I’m dressed, the day just starts its usual cycle.

I get a text before I get to leave though.

Minty: Madam. Star sign day. Wear that outfit of yours from like a month ago

Clown: I forgot JFDSHSDF THANK YOU

Minty: No worries. You should have time to change since it’s only 7:00

Clown: Thank

I rush back to my room to change into the star sign outfit, and rush out. If my star sign was virgo, that meant I had to dress like a tired college student or rather elegantly. I chose elegance because I already feel like a tired college student 25/8 so I mean.

The day passes and for once I need to think of a pick-up line for today’s confession rip.

“Sun!”

“Is it time already?”

I pick up my phone and start reading. “If I were to rearrange the alphabet, I would put U and I together”

Sun clicks a little bit on his device and responds. “Too bad N and O are already together”

“Should I just do pick up lines now?”

“Takes me too long to find a response”

“Pick up lines it is.”

“I like your outfit though.”

I short-circuit. “DID SUN JUST COMPLIMENT ME?”

“Do I compliment you that rarely?”

“So what if you do?”

Sun blinks at me, and starts laughing when I blink back.

I’m matching with Mint today. Had you not known who I hang out with rather often, and who I had a crush on, you probably would’ve thought I was dating Mint. It was quite the mood. I laughed at how my juniors were panicking. Perhaps I would miss this more than I planned.

I hear Z and A scream in the background and race to see what they’re up to. Sun follows me and I see Mint already yelling at the two. I think they might’ve ruined one of the cloths.

“Do you know how long this took the Astronomy club to get to us? How are we gonna fix this before the end of the day? We have 3 hours before after school activities start!” Mint yells at the two and I steady my breathing.

“I can fix it. A couple stars would work right?” Sun mumbles.

I check the harm done, a decently large tear was in the cloth. Mint blinks incredulously at Sun and sighs. “Bless you Sun”

“Which one is it?”

“This is the reception one. The one with the scattered stars.” Mint huffs.

“The great rift? We could do like a star river with the rip”

“That makes sense.” Sun mumbles. “Can you see if any of the faculty have a needle and thread? I know we don’t have any sewing machines here since we’re broke but like-”

“I have a sewing kit.” I mumble.

“Emergencies?”

“You never know how annoying eating too much is” I huff. “I’ll grab it. What color thread?”

“What do you have?”

“I’ll grab them all.”

I rush off to grab the things so Sun has an adequate amount of time to fix up the rip and I hear A and Z hiss when Mint drags them by the ear to class. Student council members were free today and the five of us were in student council. I grab my pack and find Sun planning what to do.

“Do you have yellow, blue, and a lighter shade of purple?”

“Look and see what I have. I have little of everything”

Sun peers at the threads and nods. He gets to work and I set off to help everyone else set up. By the time that activities were about to start, Sun is about done. He mumbles something about needing another piece of cloth, and I watch as his slender fingers help the needle thread through the cloth. I wonder what else those fingers can do-

“No horny thoughts” I smack myself.

“You have a hand kink?” Sun peers up at me, challenging me to answer.

“And what if I do?” I snicker.

“Then I’d have to say Mint is the person who’d satisfy you”

“What is this cursed conversation we’re having”

“Your fault for getting horny at school”

I snicker and he finishes up the last adjustments. I head off to the bathroom to get ready when he finally finishes. I wanted to try star freckles. I’m hoping this doesn’t go downhill.

After 10 minutes of struggling, I find my face covered with little stars and a small Virgo constellation on one cheek. Feeling satisfied with myself, I put everything away and head back to our meeting spot.

“Attention student council members!” I call. Everyone rushes over and I hear a couple comments about my face. “I trust that you all have finished setting up your booths for your star signs. I hope you all do just as well with welcoming our students and leading them around. Good luck everyone”

“And to finish anything off, you all are welcome to find Crescent and I at the virgo stop anytime. Be sure to only steal one of us when the other is there though. Alright thank you all” Mint hums.

The students scramble and I sigh in relief.

“Nice freckles” Mint grins.

“Thank you. I was starting to think that they were ugly”

“We have 5 minutes. Would you mind giving me a virgo constellation on my cheek?”

My thought process says no but my hands move on their own anyways. Mint sits down at our post and I start gluing the small stars onto his face. I finish in 5 minutes and once the last glitter line is drawn, the bell rings.

“Finished” I mumble.

“You should just set up a star freckle place for today” he snickers.

“Very funny Mint”

“It’s pretty though. I like it”

“Why thank you Mint” I bow sarcastically and start attending to the classmates around us. The day is calm, and the sky has cleared up. So today, you can see the passionate warm shades of the sun when it sets over the horizon.

Previous : Masterlist : Next

#writing #supportive friends #I need a Mint in my life ngl #fiction #first person #my ocs #365 days #365 days of writing #365 days of rejection #and for once Sun actually rejects Cressie #project #writing project #quarantine project

1 note · View note

the--sad--hatter · 5 years

Text

Name Changing (5)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, X-MEN, DEADPOOL

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION - Sequel to Name Calling

After merging with your bloodthirsty alternate personality things start getting a little dicey. You’ve got two decades worth of anger to sort through, a feral mutation to figure out how to live with, a biological father who you hate trying to teach you control and if your wedding planner suggests teal for the bridesmaids again you might just eat her liver.

Luckily you have Bucky Barnes by your side, helping you figure things out. What Bucky doesn’t know is that you have found an outlet for the uncontrollable rage, one that absolutely nobody can know about. If your friends and family knew that you were out slaughtering people in the dead of night while they slept, they might be a little annoyed. Wade Wilson is happy to keep your secret though, so long as you keep bribing him with Mexican food.

For as long as you could remember, all you had wanted was to be good. Now you’re seeing the temptation in the darkness.

Chapter Five - Ambitions

You prayed your nifty little healing abilities would be enough to heal you from this but you knew it was still going to hurt like a bitch. The airplane grew smaller and smaller as you hurtled towards the ground and you bitterly thought back to the events that had led you to this.

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

Erlo must have have crept in to check on you in the middle of the night and left when he saw Bucky in the bed. If he could beat Bucky to the bed he would leap onto it and refuse to move, curling around you protectively. Most times there was a fifty fifty chance you would kick Erlo out of the bed and let Bucky in, but you found it really hard to admonish Erlo for his bad behaviour. But when Erlo pouted because he’d been beaten to bed, you couldn’t kick Bucky out either.

The sunlight streamed through the open window and you shot a wave of irritation at Erlo downstairs as the light woke you. You could feel the warmth of Bucky’s body behind you and the steady rise and fall of his chest and you turned over to look at him. His face was peaceful as he slumbered and you used the opportunity to just look at him, drinking in the sight.

You absent mindedly stroked your hand across his bare chest as you admired him and it must have woke him because his breathing changed. His eyes remained closed and you knew he was trying to pretend he was still asleep. You lightly dragged your nails across his chest and smirked to yourself.

When he didn’t react you changed the path of your fingers so your nails lightly scratched over his nipples and a low rumbling erupted from his chest and he opened his eyes to sleepily smile at you.

“Morning Doll.” He rasped.

“Morning.” You smiled, giving him a soft chaste kiss and laughing when his lips chased yours when you pulled away.

“So, now I’ve been fired I don’t have any plans today.” You told him.

“Is that so? That’s a shame, because I have lots.” He teased.

“Oh?”

“I have to go with Sam and Steve to get our suits tailored.”

“That doesn’t seem like a lot.” You mused.

“Why, did you need your sidekick today?” He asked.

You giggled and his your face in his chest.

“So you saw that?” Your muffled voice enquired.

“Sure did doll.” He said, running his fingers up your spine.

You rolled onto your back and gave him the most suggestive look you could. He turned on his side and hovered over you, his hand running over your hip and down your leg. You sighed happily in contentment until he sat up and got off the bed.

“Well, don’t want to be pining over you so I should get ready for the day before you feel sorry for me.” He sarked.

You whined petulantly.

“You bastard. Robin would never blue-ball Batman!” You yelled, throwing a pillow at his retreating form which he batted away before slipping into the bathroom with a laugh and locking the door behind him.

You groaned and spread out like a grumpy starfish on the bed.

You idly wondered what you were going to do today and realized that your dad was right, you didn’t have many hobbies or goals. The only things you could think off to do involved other members of the Avengers or The X-Men or Wade. There was aloud thump on the balcony as Erlo leapt onto it and padded into the room and rested his large head on the bed and blinked at you.

You felt his curiosity and concern for your current state.

“I need a thing. A me thing.” You told him.

He tilted his head as he thought about it and projected a feeling of helplessness at you.

“Don’t worry boy, it’s not your problem. Why don’t you go and shred some more of Bucky’s shirts for me?” You asked him and he bounded away, the sounds of material being shredded coming from the wardrobe shortly after.

You stifled a laugh into the duvet and went back to your problem. The only way to find something was to look for it you decided.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Cooking was NOT your thing.

The savoury muffins weren’t the worst thing in the world but they weren’t the best either and you were hot, sweaty, covered in flour and annoyed. You couldn’t imagine doing this every day, for fun. Thor seemed happy enough as he munched away at the fruits of your labour, after extracted a solemn promise from you that they were not laced with any kind of potion, truth or otherwise.

First Aid was absolutely not your thing.

You had begged one of the nurses in the medical wing to let you shadow her and after Bruce had signed off on it she had agreed, making sure you knew that you could watch with patients if they agreed and nothing else. After that she had given you and orange and some needle and thread and told you to practice sutures. You had managed to sew it to your sleeve, broken the CPR Dummies ribs when practising on it and accidentally knocked over a tray of equipment before you came to the conclusion that you weren’t cut out for it.

Training new recruits had not gone to plan.

None of them were brave enough to spar with you until you told them they could spar with you or with Natasha. They wisely chose you. Or not so wisely as it turned out. You left them nursing their bodies and their Ego’s after Steve stepped in to stop you insulting a young man by comparing his fighting technique to that of a drunk giraffe.

You were definitely not musically inclined.

You lined up youtube tutorials and tried your hand at learning to play the guitar but the stupid string kept breaking. It was only after your dad walked in on you strumming away and warbling at the top of your voice and actually paid you to stop that you gave up.

Being an assistant was a disaster.

You offered to help Darcy out with her tasks and she made you into The Avengers official coffee bitch, even making you get down on one knee so she could knight you with a rolled up bunch of blueprints. You got nearly every order wrong, broke the coffee machine and spilt coffee all over Darcy’s shoes and she promptly demoted you and threatened to find a real sword to lop your head off if you didn’t immediatley get online and but her new shoes.

Poetry was your Kryptonite.

You spent the better part of two hours hunched over a notepad, tongue between your teeth as you concentrated. You proudly presented your finished masterpiece to Loki who read it with a blank expression and then threatened to turn you into a slug if you ever, ever wrote poetry again.

I am like a cat

But a cat I am not

I am like a monster

But a monster I am not

I am like a demon

But a demon I am not

Do not fear me

I am a friend

I am like a hero

A hero I want to be

“I can’t do anything!” You whined to Erlo as the two of you walked around the grounds.

Affection was the only response he had for you.

“Ugh, and I have to go to School now.” You moaned to your faithful companion.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Hi dad.” Your voice was dripping with disdain.

“Princess.” Logan greeted you with gruff

“So what are you teaching me today, how to sniff out Scooby snacks?” You asked him.

“Oh, no let me guess. We’re going to become one with nature as we meditate our way to inner peace.” You interrupted before he could respond.

“Excuse me, Miss Stark? Um Deathwave?” You turned around to look at the young girl who was addressing you timidly.

“Hi there, are you alright sweetheart?” You asked, smiling kindly at her.

She couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen and was practically vibrating with nerves.

“I just wanted to say I saw your interview and I really liked it. I think your right and I really want to see myself as a Queen. I’m a survivor and I’ll try to remember that from now on.” She told you and ran off.

“Huh.” You and Logan remarked simultaneously.

“I saw it as well. Was a good interview. You did well.” He said.

You didn't know how to respond. His praise wasn't something you craved but it wasn’t unwelcome either.

“There are a lot of kids here who went through that shit, maybe you should talk to them. They might listen to you.” Logan suggested.

It was like being struck by a bolt of lightning.

“I need to speak to the Professor!” You announced and ran inside.

You were excited as you pounded on the Professors office door. This was exactly what you had been looking for. Something you could do, something you could be good at and something that would help people.

“Come in Miss Stark.” The Professor’s called out amusedly.

“Professor I want to volunteer as a guidance counsellor.” You practically shouted as you burst into the office.

“No.” He said.

“No? Why not?” You asked.

“Several reasons, you aren’t qualified for such a position. And I believe that while you could be an invaluable help to these children, you can play a much bigger role in their lives.” The Professor answered.

“What kind of role?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“You’re what?” Tony demanded.

“I’m a recruiter for The School. I’ll travel around the world, find these kids and help the adjust to life at Xavier’s. I’ll only be taking on the more extreme or difficult cases, dangerous mutants who are scared or suspicious of The School or in some cases, rescuing mutants who need it.” You told them.

You were met with an array of blank looks from the team.

“But you’re an Avenger....” Sam pointed out.

“And I will continue to be one. I’m not joining the X-Men. I’m working for Xavier as essentially a ‘buddy’ to help kids settle in. He’s also arranged for me to study to become a qualified counsellor.”You explained.

“But you’re still going to be an Avenger?” Clint confirmed.

“Yes. This is just going to be my day job. My thing.” You said happily.

Tony stood up and grasped your shoulder.

“I’m proud of you Kit Kat.” He said and pulled you into a hug.

“It’s the perfect thing for you Sestra, you will do so well.” Wanda added.

You met Bucky’s eyes as your dad released you and he was grinning at you happily, his eyes shining with pride.

“I’m glad you guys approve. Ok, I just stopped by to let you know.” You said, backing out of the room.

“Where are you going?”Sam asked.

“Um, Prauge. With... Logan.” You grumbled.

“You start already?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry though, I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

Eleven Days Later

The last though in your mind before your fragile body hit the ground was that team was going to murder you... once they scraped you off the ground that was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Baby Stark has a job, a real job! What do you think of it?

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first@thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala@the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real-wombat @buckitybarnes@fairislesheets@angieptt @meganjonezzzz @dugan365@fluffeh-kitty@memanda17 @krystallynx @theonelittleone@piscesbarnes@free-as-fishes @tarastudiesalot@captainamericasbeard@dropthepizza346 @jaynnanadrews@likes-to-smell-books@drdorkus @life-wanderer@metalarmlover @animegirlgeeky@jsmith509 @chipilerendi@nerdy-bookworm-1998@ericasabe @gravedollie666@madlykpopfan @l0kisbitch@mywinterwolf@sassysweetstories @life-wanderer @jessieray98@littledeadrottinghood

111 notes · View notes

pbandjesse · 3 years

Text

Today was a good day that started not great. I had a hard morning.

Part of it was sleep wasn't the best. I had trouble falling asleep. And while my ear doesn't hurt as much it does still bother me.

I woke up and was just moving really slow this morning. I left like 10 minutes later then normal. So I didn't stop for breakfast. Just gave James a hug and headed out.

It was already hot when I left the house. It would get to 100 today and it felt like it. When I was in the sun it was miserable. It was like being in an oven.

And I just had a hard time this morning. I was very upset and irrational and was trying not to be mean to James but I was super angry!! At almost nothing. I was probably just overtired and overhot but man. I was not having fun.

And then the kids were so nice but the needle on my machine broke and I panicked because I didn't have the replacements. They were home. But I remembered there was one in the other machine and it was fine but jeez that was upsetting.

And then the next group was late. And the councilors didn't make them clean up and we're just blank faced when I was like. Dude. So I was really frustrated by my third and last group.

But those two councilors were excellent and made me feel a lot better. Most of the boys were working on earning a badge so they had to do a painting project. So 4 of them sewed and it went well and was much calmer. And then I helped the one councilor fix their fanny pack and I felt a lot better. Even if I was still stressed and way to hot.

I set up some posters with instructions for tomorrow. And went to check in with Alexi. And then I was out of there. The day campers we're having early dismissal anyway. And I needed to go to the DMV.

I was out of there. I did forget like two small things but nothing I can't live without. And the DMV ended up being like absolutely no big deal. And all my stress over things this morning was for nothing. I stopped them off. Got my receipt. And was off.

I was in the shopping center where the five guys is so I went there for lunch. Had a nice meal. And then went to the thrift store.

I had a great time there. I got some fun project dresses for the fall. And a few more candle holders. I had a very nice time walking around. It was getting to be a better day.

I got home and it was stupid hot. But James had the ac on and it helped. I worked on moving the camping stuff to the living room. Doing some final packing. Just having fun.

I did some styling. Cleared out the queue. And tried on my new things. I would go down to the car a few times. Brought stuff in. Brought stuff down. And once James was finally done work we went to their parents house to get the canopy. And it was really nice to see them. We talked for like an hour. Before me and James went to the grocery store for final things and small dinner. And then we were home.

We had dinner and watched a video. And then I got to work on cutting banana and James was chopping veggies. We did some cleaning. James took out the trash. And finally I was able to take a shower. I feel a lot better now.

We're leaving later in the morning tomorrow. And it should be around 4 hours to get there if we get any traffic. I am excited. Even if they are calling for rain tomorrow. It will be a great adventure.

I hope you all sleep good night. Take care of yourself and the ones you love!!

3 notes · View notes

writemetohell · 5 years

Text

And We Fight for Roses Too- Chapter 5

For Katherine, the plan was simple: Go undercover at one of Manhattan’s many illegal sweatshops and write the expose that’ll finally kick start her career as a serious journalist.

The one thing she could’ve never planned for was a certain factory worker by the name of Sarah Jacobs.

Posted for @newsies-strike-day !!!!

Major Content Warning!!! for an explicit depiction of sexual harrassment early on in the chapter. This part is bracketed off with ******** for those want to skip that part. Content warning also for anti semitism, discussion of death and the grieving process. One hundred and sixty two, one hundred and sixty three, one hundred and sixty four-!

Katherine’s needle sunk deep into the off brand suede and jammed itself between the seams, leaving it unable to budge. She tugged at it, aggravating the needle further and causing a nasty rip to slice through the seam. She quickly darted her fingers out of the way before they could share a similar fate.

“Damn!”

“Katie, don’t cuss! It isn’t ladylike!” Rivka admonished from across the table.

“But I-” Katherine was not in the mood to be lectured to by a thirteen year old. She was not in the mood to talk to anyone really. The disastrous dinner with her family had left Katherine in a state of disarray. Her already testy sleep schedule became virtually non existent, her diet whitted down to saltines and whatever leftovers Sarah brought over from her mother’s cooking. The two girls had come to a quiet agreement to leave the peach soap fiasco behind them, and had resumed their daily literature talks. Sarah turned out to be a surprisingly fast reader, and was heading towards the end of Innocents Abroad. Katherine wouldn’t be surprised if she was at the Odessa chapters by now.

She had planned to ask her, but Sarah hadn’t come in yet. In fact, it was now nearly nine, and Sarah hadn’t come in at all.

“They’ll dock you for that.” Rachel was leaning over to inspect Katherine’s ruined handiwork. “It’s a wonder you get paid at all with all your screw ups. How do ever manage to make rent when Sarah isn’t around?”

“Don’t worry about my pay girls,” Katherine muttered as she tried to untangle the ruined thread. “I make it work.”

Rivka gasped in delight. “Do you have a beau? I bet he helps pay!”

Katherine nearly choked on the dusty air. “Rivka, I do not have a beau. I live with my cousin, he helps out.”

Shayna scrunched her nose in confusion. “What is this ‘beau’? Like on hair?”

Rivka snorted into her sewing. “Honestly Shayna, you can be such a greenhorn sometimes.”

She took another half finished glove and expertly slipped it through her machine. “A beau is your sweetheart, a boy that admirers you. He gives you flowers and you hold hands together. And then he gives you a huge diamond ring, and you get married!”

Her needle delicately dotted her last stitch, and Rivka tossed the finished inline seam into the basket like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Alright, no more love talk.” Rachel gave another of her signature eyerolls. “If this keeps up I’m gonna be sick-”

A shadow fell over the table, and Rachel’s demeanor suddenly changed. Her eyes dropped to the floor, and she hunched over her sewing machine as if she was trying to appear as small as possible. All the pigment seemed to leave her face, turning her complexion an ashy grey.

Katherine turned her head, and there was Frank, looming over the table with a smug grin.

“Looks like you found yourself in a tough spot, huh girl?”

*******

He peered over at Katherine’s ruined handiwork, his glove like hand engulfing hers. This had to be done at an odd angle, since he had positioned his body right against Rivka’s back. She too, had gone completely still, as if she were made out of stone.

It took a moment for Katherine to comprehend what she was seeing. There was a bulge in Frank’s pants. His body was pressed tightly against hers, and he began to rub his crotch slowly up and down her small body. Katherine’s first instinct was to scream. Her second was to ram her elbow into Frank’s beefy side. She took slow and steady breaths, and tried to think quickly.

“We’re ... I’m fine over here, thank you sir. Just a little trouble with the needle.”

Frank gave her a toothy grin. “Oh, thank god, I forgot you were a naturalized yid. See, some men like them all foreign and stupid, but me,”

He cupped his hand under Katherine’s chin. “I love it when they understand every word I say.”

Her mouth as now as dry as paper. She tried to think of something, anything to say. Anything to make it stop. She jutted her hand away from her palm and tried to get her breathing back under control.

“...Like I said sir, we’re just fine over here.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. He gave another glance at Katherine’s station, and to everyone’s relief, took his body off of Rivka’s.

********

“That’ll coming out of your pay. Keep this up and you’ll be another Chava. Let me know when I need to put out another job ad.”

He gave one last look towards Rivka, who was now trembling, and rubbed the overlap where his two front teeth met with a grubby forefinger. The girls waited until they heard the office door on the other side of the room slam shut, and exhaled an identical sigh of relief.

Katherine reached over and squeezed Rivka’s hand.

“How are you doing?”

“‘How is she doing?’ How can you ask such a stupid question?” All eyes shot to Rachel, who seemed to have regained her footing again. Her face was now as red as her hair, and she looked like she could spit bile at any moment.

Katherine sat up a little straighter and narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t see anyone else comforting her. I figured it was the least I could do.”

“Oh that’s rich, coming from you. Since your crappy sewing was what brought him over in the first place!”

“You’re blaming me for this? Are you insane? How could you ever think that I wanted-!”

The entrance flew open, bringing in a stream of light with it. Sarah marched briskly through the door, basket pressed against her hip. Her usual high pompadour was lopsided, with one pin hanging on for dear life by only a few strands of hair. On closer inspection, Katherine could see that her face was flushed and her nose was rubbed pink. She quickly rubbed her eyes before setting her basket down and flopping on the remaining chair.

“Geez Jacobs, were you get hit by a trolley on the way over?” Rachel raised an eyebrow. It was as if the argument only a few moments ago had never happened.

“I’m not in the mood today, Rachel.” Sarah sniffled and rubbed her eyes again.

Katherine looked from her to Rachel, who bit down on her lip and scowled as she took another unfinished glove. Shayna, whose face was as white as a sheet. Rivka, whose hands shook as she replaced the thread.

She fought the urge to sprint straight out of the room and leave all this behind her. It was all so much; too much to deal with. And the day was far from over.

______________________________

Katherine made sure to corner Sarah during midday break, leading her away from the others before another fight broke out.

“What happened to you this morning?”

Sarah groaned. “I was about to ask you the same thing. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Katherine wasn’t sure if she wanted to share what happened to Rivka this morning. Or if she even if she could at all.

“I’ll tell you later...you go first.”

Sarah gave a shaky sigh and rubbed the corners of her damp eyes. “Me and David...we got into a fight this morning.”

She ran a stressed finger through her hair before continuing. “He couldn’t find one of his textbooks, and he was running late, so when he found it under my bed….he got mad. Said that I’ve been jealous of him since he started high school, and that I should stop being so resentful, on and on and on ...”

Sarah bit down on her bottom and looked away, tears flooding her eyes. “So I said, he’s lucky he’s a boy, since it makes up for how stupid he is. Told him, I’m not jealous, I just feel bad that he has to embarrass himself at that ritsy school where everyone laughs at him behind his back all day. Our mom had to seperate us before things got really bad.”

Sarah wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and Katherine handed her a handkerchief. She rubbed her face with it vigorously. “Thanks. What was going on this morning? You all looked miserable.”

Katherine rolled her eyes. “Everybody but Rachel. You should have heard her this morning! Frank came over and…”

She faltered, trying to find the right words. There was no language to truly describe what had happened that morning. And even if there was, Katherine didn’t know if she had the courage to say it.

“...he was picking on Rivka. But when he left Rachel turned the whole thing on me. She had the nerve to say I brought him over! Can you believe it? The utter gaul of her...”

Sarah suddenly looked very tired. “That shouldn’t have been pinned on you, I’m sorry. But you can’t take what Rachel says to heart. She’s very…”

She started twisting the handkerchief around in her hands, and Katherine wondered if she too didn’t have the right language to explain what was happening in the factory.

“... Frank is a sore issue for her. When she gets into a mood like that, you just gotta ignore it.”

“Believe me, I’ve been trying. But that girls has had eyes after me since I started here. I at least have the right to know what her problem is.”

“She picks on you because you’re new, and you’re inexperienced. And the rest…” Sarah dabbed her eyes one last time and gave the hankie back to Katherine, gently placing it back in her hand and folding her fingers on top.

“It isn’t really my place to tell. She’ll come around to you, I know it. Just give her some time…” Sarah paused, and squinted past Katherine’s gaze. Her eyes locked with the gate on the other side of the courtyard. “Oh great. What does he want?”

Katherine craned her neck and saw the unmistakable lanky figure of David Jacobs. He seemed out of breath, and was pacing sporadically back and forth on the other side of the gate.

Sarah groaned and rubbed the crease between her brows. “What in the world is he doing here? He’s supposed to be in school.”

“Maybe he wants to apologize?”

“Doubt it. Whatever it is, I don’t want to deal with it right now.”

Katherine gently squeezed the younger girl’s shoulder.

“I’ll talk to him.”

Venturing closer to the gate, it was clear that something was wrong. David was panting as if he had just ran a marathon, and his cloth cap was clutched tightly between his white knuckles.

She wrapped her hands around one of the bars and peered gently through them. “Uh, David? I don’t think Sarah’s ready to talk right now. I can give her a message if you like.”

“No, Katie, it’s not about-” He ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “Listen, tell her I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry, and I’ll make it up any way I can. Just tell her to come over now. Please, it’s an emergency.”

As soon as Katherine gestured Sarah walked briskly to her side. Her expression veered between angry and concerned. “David, what’s going on?”

“It’s Dad, he’s in the hospital.”

Hospital. Katherine knew the dread that came with that word. She could see Sarah turning pale.

“What happened?”

“It was an injury at work, something with a… a… delivery truck? We’re still not completely sure. But the doctor says he needs surgery, and mom wants everyone there before he goes in so-”

Before Sarah could respond the bell rang out over the courtyard. The factory’s doors opened and groups of girls began milling back inside. Sarah looked back nervously.

“Go. I’ll cover for you.” The words came out of Katherine’s mouth before she could stop them. Sarah looked at her in shock.

“Are you sure?”

“You need to be with your father right now. I’ll explain to the others.”

Sarah looked like she was about to say something, but stopped herself. Instead she wrapped Katherine in a long hug, and whispered softly in her ear, “Thank you.”

And then she gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Katherine was too startled to say anything as she watched Sarah push through the gates and run off down the street, hand in hand with her brother.

She went back to the factory in a trance, half walking, half floating in a state of bizarre joy. She almost didn’t notice her coworkers staring as she sat down.

“Hey Siegel, what happened to Sarah? We all saw her running off that brother of hers.”

Rachel, of course, was always the first to speak.Katherine grabbed the wicker basket from Sarah’s station.

“Their father’s in the hospital, he was hurt at work.”

She started collected scraps of unused glove and began placing them together. “I’ll be taking over her work load for the rest of the day.”

“Oh no you won’t.” Rachel’s angular arm grabbed the basket and began to dig through it with her other hand. “You’re not a good enough sewer to handle it on your own. We’ll all pitch in. And make sure he doesn’t notice.”

She gave a quick glance over to the foreman’s door, then over at Shayna and Rivka, who both nodded fervently. Katherine raised an eyebrow as she watched Rachel divy up the work between herself and the two younger girls.

Maybe there was more to Rachel than she thought.

_____________________

By the time Katherine left the factory, basket in hand, the shadows on the pavement were long and stretched towards the East River.

Katherine entered the tenement building cautiously, taking her time on the stairs. Coming to the end of the third floor, she found the Jacobs’ door slightly ajar.

Sarah and David sat at the kitchen table, an odd menagie on the surface between them. An old empty coffee tin sat in the middle, it’s top resting beside it. A piece of paper Katherine recognized as a telegram, flipped upside down. In front of David was a pad of paper, and he was scribbling with furious abandon what seemed to be a never ending list of random words and sums. Les was passed on top of the sheets of the corner bed. His shoes were still on. S

arah looked up, her eyes damp. “Oh, come in Katie.”

Katherine cautiously came inside, gently putting the basket beside the door. Sarah pulled out a chair for her.

“Did anyone notice I was gone?”

Katherine shook her head. “Only us girls.”

She looked over at the table, unsure how much to pry. “Who’s the telegram from.”

Sarah’s face seized up in pain. “Broadwell Cigars. They just fired our Dad.”

“What?” Katherine grabbed the telegram, searching through it for any missed signs. “It hasn’t even been a full day yet, and your father’s been with them for years! Didn’t he say he had a raise coming up?”

Sarah rubbed her face with the back of her hand. “Papa says a lot things. He’s been working at that place for eighteen years. If they haven’t given him a raise then, they’d be more than happy to let him go now.”

David looked up from his paper, looked like he was about to say something, then thought better of it. Looking closer, Katherine could see next to the list of sums, words like “Bread” and “Factory??”.

“How is your father doing?” Better to get that out of the way than skirt around it.

“He broke his leg in two places. They’ll be bringing him home from the hospital tomorrow.”

“Oh.” A sudden sense of relief flooded Katherine. “Well, that’s not too bad.”

Katherine regretted it the moment it came out of her mouth. The two siblings stared at her in shock.

“I’m sorry, I meant- well, it’s not his spine that’s injured, or his head. I mean, legs can heal rather fast-”

“He won’t be able to walk on his own for a month, Katie. Maybe more. And we don’t know-”

The door opened again before Sarah could finish. Mrs. Jacobs stood in the doorway, looking as if she aged ten years in a single day. Her elder children scrambled up to meet her.

“They put his leg in a cast. The doctor says he can walk home, he’ll just need something to lean on.”

“Can he use a cane?” David led his mother to the nearest chair. “I think one of the families on the second floor might have one.”

Mrs. Jacobs shook her head. “The hospital said he could borrow one of their crutches.”

Sarah snorted. “They better, considering they made us pay upfront.”

Katherine bit her tongue. Hospitals weren’t supposed to demand the full amount up front. But she wasn’t supposed to know that.

Mrs. Jacobs nodded at her from across the table. “Hello Katie, I’m sorry you’re not here at a better time.”

“I just stopped by to drop off Sarah’s basket. I’ll be heading out soon…”

Katherine saw the older woman staring down at the discarded telegram. She picked it up with a small, shaky hand. “Who’s this from?” She peered down at the moniquer. “Cigars? Do they want to help pay?”

Her two older children looked at each other with dread. Katherine wished she was anywhere else but here. David rubbed the bridge of nose and sighed.

“They let him go Mama. But it’s okay-!” He kept talking before she could react.

“That just means they have a new job opening. It’s probably not filled yet! I’m planning on going over tomorrow and asking for Papa’s job.”

Mrs. Jacobs lips pressed themselves into a thin, pink line. “You’ll have to drop out.”

David waved his hands in the air in frustration. “So I’ll drop out! It’s not permanent! Papa will be fine in a couple months and I’ll catch up. Eating is more important than going back there.”

Katherine needed a way to excuse herself from this conversation. “Speaking of eating, has anyone had supper yet? I can whip something up quick at my place and bring it downstairs.”

Mrs. Jacobs nodded at her vaguely. “Thank you bubbeleh, that’s very sweet of you.” She turned back to her son. “I don’t want you taking your father’s job.”

“Why not?”

“Your father was nearly killed there. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“The chances of that happening again aren’t likely.”

“I don’t care about chance. I don’t want you going there!”

By the bed, Les began to stir. “Why’s everyone yelling? Is Dad home yet?”

Sarah stood up abruptly. “I’m going to help Katie cook.”

She took her by the hand and led her out the door. Katherine could still hear the arguing as the younger girl led her down the hallway.

____________________________

“She doesn’t want him to get hurt? I don’t believe her!” Sarah was chopping potatoes with furious abandon. “My job is just as dangerous as Papa’s, and I’ve never heard her fretting over me that way.”

She pushed the diced bits onto a plate and sighed. “Where do you keep your bowls?”

Katherine wordlessly pointed to the cabinet on Sarah’s left. She grabbed Denton’s favorite blue ceramic, then felt around the shelves as if she were expecting something else to be there. “Is this your only set?”

Katherine looked up from the cutting board. “Of what?”

“Your dishes.”

Katherine felt like a big question mark had been slapped on her forehead.

Sarah pushed further.“Your second set… for Shabbat.”

“Oh that!” Think quick Kath! “Well, last month we moved so quickly, I mean… I don’t know if my cousin remembered to pack…”

“You should’ve told me sooner! I can’t believe I haven’t been inviting you every Friday. Some friend I’ve been.”

“You’ve been a great friend Sarah, don’t disparage yourself.”

“Disparage,” Sarah raised an eye, then broke into a grin. “That’s a ten cent word. I love it when you talk like that, it makes me feel like I’m still in school.”

Katherine ducked her head down so Sarah wouldn’t see her blush. She tried to distract herself with the food prep, only find herself cutting the last of the carrots.

“Shoot! I forgot to go to the market today! Do you think any of the stalls are still open?”

Sarah walked to the window and peeked outside. “Maybe if you run. But I’m sure we can work with what have. Or I can go downstairs and get some-”

“No, no, you don’t have to do that. I’m so sorry, I wish I were better at this.” It was becoming more and more difficult for Katherine to conceal her truth. A part of her didn’t really want to. Not when she had Sarah to think of.

“To be perfectly honest I don’t have a second set of dishes. My father never wanted us to do things like that. And my cousin does most of the shopping.” She looked sadly back at her dejected last carrot. “I’m not a very good cook.”

Sarah turned away from the window and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m sure you’re just fine. I promise, I’ll never complain about a single thing you cook.”

She paused. “Well, as long as you don’t give me the runs.”

Katherine tried to stifle a laugh, but it came out instead as a snort. Sarah joined in, and soon the two girls were full on belly laughing, Sarah clutching her side, and Katherine pulling out two chairs from the kitchen table before the two of them could fall on the floor. Sarah accepted hers gracefully, wiping away a few stray tears before plopping down.

“I’m not so great of a cook myself. The first time Mama taught me how to make challah, I mixed up the salt with the sugar. That’s a mistake I’ll never make again. The pigeons liked it though. I think.”

Katherine nodded. “At least it didn’t go to waste. When I was nine my sister and I tried to make a souffle on our own and we almost burned down the kitchen.”

“Your sister? I remember you mentioned her some time ago. Is she with the rest of your family?”

The words came out before Katherine could stop them. “No, she died a year and a half ago.”

The world seemed to stop. It was as though Katherine had gutted open her stomach and poured out the insides. There was no pretense between them, no lies or half truths or vague statements that could be interpreted in a million different ways. She was no longer Katie Siegel, or even Katherine Plumber.

Sarah stared directly, sadly, compassionately into her eyes; and she stared back as Katherine Pulitzer.

“I’m so sorry.” Time began again, and Katherine felt Sarah’s hand on top of hers. “I can’t imagine how painful that must be.” “

My mother wanted me to go through her things.” She barely spoke above a whisper. “I just couldn’t do it. It’s not just her dresses, I felt like I was throwing all of her away. All the memories, all the-”

Katherine stopped herself. She was unsure if it was because she was saying too much, or because she couldn’t continue at all.

“People told me it would get better in time, but it doesn’t really. It just becomes more bearable. Like a toothache. I’m sorry, I must sound so ridiculous-”

Sarah gave her hand a squeeze. “You don’t sound ridiculous. These things take time. Especially clothes. My mom never threw out any of our old baby things, even after all the ones she lost.”

“Ones she lost? You mean miscarriages?”

“Some.” Sarah hesitated. “... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… we were talking about your sister… and it’s not really my place to say…” Her eyes fell to lap. “Let’s just say there’s a reason why David and Les are six years apart.”

This time it was Katherine who tightened her grip around Sarah’s hand.

“...there was one before Les, a girl. We really though she’d make it. Cried normally and everything. But a couple months later…” Sarah’s shoulder’s trembled. “I found her. Her face was blue. The midwife said that happens sometimes, when the baby’s that young. It just happens.”

She inhaled sharply. Katherine wanted to hug her again, to wrap her arms around her and never let go. But she stopped herself.

“It is like that sometimes.” She fought the urge to stroke her face.

“You know,” Sarah gave a shaky laugh. “I thought my father was going to die today.”

“I know. I’m glad he’ll make it.”

“Seeing him there unconscious… I was so scared. I… I didn’t want the last time he saw me to be when me and David were fighting.”

Katherine paused. “Now you have the chance.”

“Yeah, I do, don’t I?” Sarah attempted a smile. She looked incredibly tired. “I don’t how how I’ll be able to handle the next month.”

“When I’m feeling overwhelmed, I usually write.”“You what?” Sarah raised her head again, looking confused. A sense of dread lurched in Katherine’s stomach.

“Well, nothing formal or anything. When I was younger I’d find old newspapers or scraps of tissue and write down all the things I couldn’t say out loud. And then I’d hid it under my pillow at night. I’d feel better afterwards. Usually.”

“Huh. Under your pillow? I might have to try that out sometime.” Sarah stood up and straightened her skirts. “I’m gonna check on my family. Promise not to burn down the building when I’m away?”

Katherine stuck out her tongue, and Sarah laughed and headed towards the door. She paused as she put her hand on the knob.

“You sister, what was her name?”

“Oh, uh…” Katherine’s mouth turned dry, and the air seemed to be lost halfway in her throat.

Sarah shook her head and backed away. “You don’t have to say. I’m sorry for prying. I’ll be back up for the food soon.”

It took all the strength within Katherine to not run after her screaming,

“Lucy! Her name was Lucy! Her name was Lucy, and she would’ve loved you!”

#Newsies Strike Day #newsies fanfiction #fanfiction #katherine pulitzer #sarah jacobs

3 notes · View notes

20dollarlolita · 6 years

Text

There’s only two more paychecks till Halloween, which makes it time to do a Halloween post:

I don’t know how many of you are going as our traditional lolita Halloween staples (Bo Peep, Red Riding Hood, broken doll, y’all know what I’m talking about), but if your goal is to mix body paint and nice clothes, watch out for when it is time to take the body paint OFF your nice clothes.

So, by this point, everyone’s familiar with making gloves out of tights and gluing finger nails onto them. The first person I ever saw do it was Penwiper. There’s plenty of tutorials out there, but I might as well share my personal method. I came up with this in 2012/2013 and used to sell them, so I haven’t actually shared this technique with anyone until today, even though I’ve made 75+ pairs of them

These gloves take much less time than hand sewing (I did the example ones in just over an hour), and are much stretchier and more durable. They’ve got their own pros and cons list, just like any other technique, and I’ll try to go over where the drawbacks are as we go.

Drawback #1, you need a serger capable of a 3-thread narrow flatlock, with a lockable blade. This isn’t suitable for a side-cutter attachment on a machine, and it can’t be done on most industrial sergers. Due to differences in sergers, I cannot help you set your machine to a 3-thread narrow flatlock; you’ll have to check your manual.

Also, I usually stick a fingernails cw in the tags, but I’m going to stick a big one up here before the cut: this post has MUCH MORE fingernails than a usual post.

All right. We’re going to assemble the gear. All of this is pretty standard for this kind of project:

Tights: I use welovecolors opaque nylon-lycra solid tights. They come in a standard and a plus size. A good guide is to get whatever size you’d wear on your legs. If it absolutely has to be opaque (if you have skin that’s darker than your character, for example), try the microfiber tights, but the foot shape at the bottom makes it harder. Welovecolors’ light gray tights match Cadaver Grey Ben Nye and light gray Snazaroo. Their dark gray is too blue to match the dark gray Snazaroo.

Fingernails: For these, I used the Sally Hansen “Real Short” nails. Get whatever works for your character/costume. Back when I was mass-producing these, I’d get big boxes of assorted nails in whatever shape was cheapest. The final shape doesn’t matter a whole lot. Don’t use Dollar Tree nails. I’ve tried and never had success, but I have had a lot of times where the nail broke and left a chunk glued to the tights that just wouldn’t come off.

Super Glue: Sometimes this comes with your nail kit. If I ran out, I’d just use normal Super Glue brand. The only one I don’t suggest is the gel or long-cure kind. You use this both to put the nails on and to stop any little runs forming (like the one on my thumb up there).

Thread: Three cones for your serger and then enough for a little bit of hand sewing.

Spray Paint: For your nails. You can use nail polish, but spray paint is faster and looks better, assuming you don’t botch your ombre like I did.

Sticky Tape: To hold the nails down so you can paint them.

Clear Nail Polish: I don’t use this because I have freaky teflon nails that nothing sticks to (including salon gel polish. Flakes right off!), but a lot of people like to paint their nails with this before they do the gluing. It stops the glue from sticking to your nails as badly.

Toolwise, you’ll need a water-erase felt-tip pen, a hand sewing needle and thread wax/conditioner if you use it, scissors, two safety pins, and the aforementioned serger.

Start with your fingernails, since they’ll need time to dry. Put a couple of pieces of tape sticky-side-up on a piece of cardboard or scrap, and line the nails up on it.

Take your nails outside and give them a quick coat of spray paint.

I tried to be fancy and copy these fingernails I found on google, but I did not do a good job of it. Set these aside to cure.

Note: you can pick which nails fit your hand and then just spray those. I did the whole box because I was on autopilot.

Now, take your tights out of the box and lay them down.

I like to leave the tights like this, which makes the final chest seam inside-out. I find this to be a lot more comfortable on my back. If you want all your seams in the same direction, turn the tights inside-out, and then lay them out nice and flat like they are here.

Two of the biggest mistakes I tended to make when I was mass-doing these was losing track of where the fronts/backs of the hands are and what thumb goes where. It’s quite easy to accidentally make two hands. To stop this, I put a safety pin in the back of each hand, with the head of the pin pointing at where the thumb will go.

These have to be far enough down so that I can make the whole glove without removing them, so keep them a minimum of about 6″ from the toe seam.

Now, place your four fingers over the end of the tights, and mark where your bottoms of your fingers are.

It looks more real for the fingers to be slightly too long, instead of too short, but aim for them to be spot on.

Then draw lines from those dots to the seam of the tights.

You want to divide the tip of the tight almost evenly into four fingers. You need to give your index finger just a little bit more room than the other three. Don’t worry about your thumb. We’ll do the thumb later.

You can see that my lines are wavy. Try to keep them straighter than this.

Back in the olde days, I had templates on index cards that fit a huge variety of hand sizes, but they swam over the rainbow hilighter bridge to the great office supply store in the sky.

Now, cut off your toe seams. If you leave these on, they get in the way later.

Don’t cut your fingers. We’re going to make the serger do that for us.

So line your serger blade up with the line you marked on a finger, and start serging down that line. The serger will cut the finger and seam up one side of that cut.

When you get to the point where the next cut of your serger blade will cut the very bottom of your marking line, stop. Set your serger blade to “lock”. My serger locks the blade in the down position. If yours locks it in the up position, make sure that last cut has been made before you lock it.

On the right side of this image, you can see the other half of the finger that teh serger just cut.

Here’s where the magic happens. Take the part of the finger than your serger cut. Pull it straight forward, so that it’s in the line that your machine will be serging.

Very carefully, start serging. You’ll have to watch to make sure that the edge gets caught by the needle all the way through the seam. Also, since your blade is locked, you’ll need to make sure you’re not feeding too wide of a seam allowance into your serger. Keep going until you’re back at the top edge of the tights.

So now you have this. One seam that goes down the side of one finger and up the side of the finger next to it.

The very bottom of the fingers is prone to a little running. Be careful with that point until you’re ready to fuse those runs with glue.

Just repeat that process until you run out of fingers. It should be three seams for each hand.

Thumb time!

These thumbs are too small. Make yours wider and longer, but put them in the same spot.

It is extremely important that the tip of your thumb starts below the bottom of your index finger. I know that on your hand, the tip of your thumb reaches up above the start of your index finger, but if you have the tip of your thumb go up that high, you won’t have enough space to get your index finger in the gloves, and then you’ll have to sew a big stretch-lame ring on it and sell it as “Eridan gloves” and no one wants that.

This thumb goes almost too high. The extra room we gave the index finger when we started will help us out, though, so it’ll be fine.

And yeah, the index finger looks weird, and that’s okay.

If your thread didn’t catch and you end up with a hole, don’t try to fix it with the serger. It’s not precise enough for that. Just remember where it is, and remember to sew it up later when you’re doing the fingertips.

Now, on the front of the hand (which you can tell from my safety pin happily there, mark from the middle of the palm to roughly the middle of the forearm.

Fold the glove so that the front of the hand is on the fold, and chop off a bit in the front of the hand. You’ll have to take out the safety pin to do it.

How much? I usually do about 3/4″ at the deepest point. The deepest point should be about 1.25″ below the bottom of the thumb.

However, as you’ll see at the end, I have normal-sized hands and fairy-sized wrists, so I had to go back and cut off another bit to get them to fit me there.

Now, take your hand and place it over the glove. Mark where the ends of your fingers are.

Chop those ends off. Grab your scissors and round off the very tips of all of the fingers.

Your thumb will end in a very sharp point. Cut the end of that point off to dull it down.

Take your needle and whip-stitch the very ends of the fingers closed.

We do this for two reasons: 1) I did over 100 pairs of these and I never found a machine method that was as accurate and any faster and 2) you get a little more flexibility with the hand sewing. You want that on your very fingertips.

Cut a hole in the crotch because you’re about to stick your head in it.

This hole only needs to be big enough for you to get your entire head through. You’ll be able to make it bigger later.

Put your gloves on inside-out. Take your super glue and dot off any little runs that you see forming. Stop them before they grow.

We put the gloves on inside-out for two reasons: first, the flatlock stitches are designed to flatten, and this helps get them started. Second, it’s really hard to turn the fingers inside-out unless you start by putting your fingers in them and then pulling the gloves off.

So, go ahead and turn them inside-out.

Now is a good time to put a few coats of clear nail polish on your nails, and to make sure your fake nails are all dry and ready for glue.

Putting the nails on is a two-hand process, so I’m going to apologise for the pictures in advance.

You’re going to do one nail at a time. Start by putting the glove on the hand that’s going to get the nails. Keep your other hand free.

Put glue on the fake nail. Make sure to get to the very edges, or you start getting some really unsettling nail-peel problems. Don’t use too much glue. You can add more really easily, but it’s not easy to remove a stuck nail from your hand without breaking it.

Press the nail onto the tights, over your natural nail. Press down and rub. If you do this right, the nail will stay onto the tights, but the motion you make rubbing the nail will stop the tights from being able to bond to your natural nail.

Then pull on the edge of the tights, right by the ‘cuticle’ of the fake nail. This should pop the nail off your finger.

If you don’t have Super Magic Teflon Nails™, that good coat of clear nail polish you put on your fingers should stick to the glue and peel off your fingernail, helping release it from your finger.

This is honestly the least enjoyable part about making these things.

Now these look absolutely fake right now. This picture’s from before I tightened up the wrists to match my super tiny ones, and all the excess fabric is showing.

Once that’s been tightened up, they start fitting much more tightly, and those drag lines go away.

See that run on my thumb? Remember when I said to catch those the second you see them and top off the end with super glue to make them stop running? That’s what happens when you don’t do that. Look at Aeryn’s face on the screen there. She does not approve of that run. Don’t disappoint Officer Aeryn Sun.

Anyhow, now that you’ve sealed up your final little snags and runs, and refitted the wrists to get rid of the baggy bits, you’re good to go!

Since these tights are made out of nylon, alcohol pigment based inks take very well and last for a while (with extremely careful washing). So, if you’ve got a character with a robot arm or something, you can take some fabric markers or even copic-type markers and get to doodling and shading and/or standing as a model while someone else doodles/shades. Y’all know the rules, swatch test first and all that.

So, there you go, troll tights in under two hours. Not bad. Have fun going out and not worrying about your paint rubbing off on you/your expensive lolita dresses/your friends/your friends’ dogs.

Not really a lolita tutorial. I know, but still under $20. I promise I’m not trying to trend away from lolita stuff, but I thought it’d be fun to widen things out a little just for October, since so many of us love dressing up!

#fingernails cw #cosplay #i know lolita isn't cosplay but this tutorial is for cosplay too #armsocks #troll tights #body paint gloves

40 notes · View notes

jokertrap-ran · 3 years

Photo

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 1-14: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation [3rd Beta Test]

*Light and Night Master-list is under WIP *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Game is releasing in 12 days!!! *Beta Test’s main story tag will be #Dreams of Light and Night

Both the audience and the contestants were all collectively stunned for a while.

Audience A: Didn’t he already retire!?

Yeah! So how is this possible!?

But the tall figure under the spotlight and those cold light-coloured eyes… It was unmistakably the same face I’ve seen countless times in magazines…

Sariel was really in front of me, in flesh and blood.

It was as if someone had hit the pause button on the world. Everyone stood rooted to their spots, stunned beyond belief as they watched him proceed onwards step-by-step. He walked past the cameras and crowd alike before taking his place beside the rest of the judges.

Time only seemed to resume when he finally seated himself. Noise and excitement broke out over the crowd like a rising tide.

Host: Just as I introduced him earlier, Mr. Sariel will be the Design Director for the Warson Brand from today onwards.

Host: We hope that Warson will be able to reach greater heights under his leadership!

The audience broke out in chatter again, and the Host happily handed him the mic.

Host: The last round of the contest is about to begin shortly. May I ask if you have anything you’d like to say to everyone here, Mr. Sariel?

Sariel raised his eyes towards the Host, yet his face remained emotionless.

Sariel: I have nothing to say.

The Host smiled awkwardly at that as he attempted to clear up the atmosphere once more before announcing the next set of rules for the championships.

The last contest will have three different themes, each put out by each of the judges, respectively. The selected contestants will have to choose their judge, and then create a product in line with their given theme.

Host: The order of selection will go according to the final rankings of the previous round. Hence, the person in the first place will have the right to first pick. And in the first place, we have―

Host: (Y/n)! Please make your selection!

MC: !?

I get the first pick? Wait, I was 1st place for the previous round!?

Slightly buzzing with excitement, I took the mic from the Host and faced the other side where the judges were seated.

Yan Xiao, the renowned Designer, was known for being amicable and his friendliness to all contestants alike.

Meanwhile, Mya, the Deputy Director of Warson’s Design Hub, was known for her strictness. But she had already more or less praised me for one thing or another throughout all the rounds we’d gone through.

And lastly…

Sariel sat serenely in his seat. He was clearly the most popular person in the venue, yet he didn’t seem to be bothered by the lively clamouring that surrounded him, as if he were in his own personal bubble.

I’d imagined myself meeting him so many times now, yet… never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that today would be the day where it’d come true.

Rumour has it that he is very strict and has high expectations of everything. But… This might also be the one and only chance I’m ever going to get…

I tightened my grip on the mic and took in a deep breath.

MC: I choose—

Hearing my voice calling out his name, Sariel snapped his gaze back. Our eyes finally met.

Those pale golden eyes of his held not a single shred of emotion within, as usual.

MC: I choose Mr. Sariel.

❖☆———————————★❖

My heart was still pounding, only calming when I sat back down at my work table.

I unravelled the folded piece of paper that sat in my palm. “A Fashion Designer” was written on it. This was to be my theme for the improvisational round. I stared at it for a good long while. Countless ideas flew through your mind, but not a single one of them hit close enough to home.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of the needle of the sewing machine working, vigorously thumping in the opposite preparation room as it threaded.

MC: They’re already starting work!?

That’s way too fast! I hurriedly sucked in a deep breath, telling myself not to get affected by how quick they were to start.

Even so, the continuous rhythmic sound of the machine working floated into my ears as it threaded, regardless.

The sound of threading… was the same as that one afternoon.

❖☆———————————★❖

I closed my eyes, letting time flow backwards in my mind as I travelled back to the past.

Thud, thud, thud…

My grandmother was lightly stepping on the pedal of her sewing machine. I sat by her side, staring at her work while resting my cheek on one of my hands.

Granny: What kind of person do you want to be when you grow up, (Y/n)?

Little me tilted her head to the side and thought about it for a full two seconds before looking back to my grandmother with a smile.

Kid MC: I wanna be like you, granny!

Granny: Why?

Kid MC: Because you can make so many pretty dresses, and they sell really well! Also, you and mom wouldn’t have to work so hard if I became like you too!

Granny: Our dearest one is so knowledgeable. Do you know what people who make pretty dresses are called?

Kid MC: Granny!

Granny: Nope. They’re called Fashion Designers.

Kid MC: Then, I wanna be one of them!

Granny: I’ll teach you how to make them if that’s what you really want.

Kid MC: I wanna learn! Teach me!

Granny: Sure thing. But, listen to me, dear. No matter what it is that you do in the future, you must remember to always be yourself.

Granny: Only by doing that, will you not fear anything, granting you the courage you need to face as anything.

Kid MC: Be myself…

I repeated, pretending to nod in understanding as I looked out the window at the roses that were blooming with all their might. My heart wavered and shook along with them in the warm winds that blew by.

Granny: You’ll understand once you grow up.

In the end, I grew up, but my mother was no longer here, and I never had a chance to make her dresses again. Further down the road, granny herself waved her hand to me as she descended over to the other world

I hadn’t yet had the time to master her skill and techniques before I was left all alone by my lonesome, with nothing but this dream to accompany me up till where I was now.

I then remembered what granny had once told me before. I suddenly understood. Standing where I was right now, being here, was what it was to truly be myself.

I think I now know what kind of design I should make.

❖☆———————————★❖

After submitting our final designs, Wu Yue, Gao Cheng, and I stood upon the stage, awaiting the final verdict that would conclude the championships,

Wu Yue’s theme was “Hippie”. She’d made a knee-length skirt in just a mere two hours.

Gao Cheng’s theme was “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”. He’d made a silk dress shirt. It looked simple, but it was actually decorated with intricate designs.

❖☆———————————★❖

And I’d gone with a formal top hat, made with chiffon of the highest twist available on hand, paired with pale gold rose accessories to express the “Fashion Designer” within me.

Host: Let us now invite the three judges to make some simple evaluations on the submitted designs.

Yan Xiao remained as amicable as ever, giving all of us relatively positive reviews.

And Mya was the opposite in all the right ways, concisely pointing out what each work was lacking.

The mic was passed back to Sariel once again. His face was illuminated under the spotlight, frosty and serious.

The entire venue lapsed into silence. No one dared to breathe or utter a word.

Sariel: The silk dress shirt lacks a highlight. This is especially so because all your effort has been spent on the making of it. Why not spend the effort to properly think of something new and interesting?

Sariel: And as for the knee-length skirt… Merely going retro doesn’t make it worthy of a comeback. If you go in blindly with the notion of playing safe, you will only be bound by the safety net which you seek.

He paused as his gaze fell upon my work.

At this point, my heartbeat was as loud as a drum. I held my breath.

Sariel: You absolutely do not understand the meaning of your given theme at all.

Sariel: This presumptuous and opinionated design of yours has completely disregarded the essence of what it means to be a “Fashion Designer”.

MC: …What?

The look on his face was one of disappointment so acute that it stabbed right through me.

The rest of the competition proceedings became a blur, all I could focus on were the piercing eyes of gold that bore into me. I completely missed how the Host concluded the whole event and made the audience rise into boisterous cheers once more.

Until I heard a name being uttered.

Host: Let us congratulate this year’s Warson Prize Champion— Wu Yue!

The overwhelming applause and cheers of the audience rang out, only for it to be replaced with a different tune; the bubbling of the deep sea.

❖☆————— ⊹ Dreams of Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-12) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-16)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #Dreams of Light and Night

17 notes · View notes

royallyanxious · 6 years

Text

Horizons - Chapter 5

Masterpost

word count: 5126

AO3 LINK

Previous Chapter

The beamed daily light was filling the room, adding golden reflexes to the silver mechanisms spread across the table. Most of the machines were turned off, so the workshop was almost silent. The tranquility from time to time torn apart by Logan’s swears and Roman’s giggling.

“And?” asked Logan a little bit impatiently “How do you feel? It shouldn’t be that heavy now…” he added, making away. He grabbed the notebook and opened it where he left it marked with his pen. His fingers were anxiously waiting from a sign to write.

Patton jumped off the table, almost soundlessly. He confidently walked few steps forward, raised the left knee up and drew a small circle with his feet. Then he did the same thing with his other leg.

“It’s much better!” he grinned, shaking his head. Soft, hazelnut brown locks, twirled in the air, creating a lovely, curly halo. Only then Roman came closer, smiling brightly.

“Well, Patton! Now you can walk a distance!” laughed Roman, admiring Patton’s smooth movements.

“Does it look natural?” Patton asked, twirling around.

“I wouldn’t do that better, friend!” replied Roman, watching Patton giggle. His voice was silky and laugh very melodic and perfectly natural.

“Yes… Indeed, it’s amazing how much a few weeks of hard work can do.” Logan said, scribing something in his notebook. He watched Patton walk, run, and jump around the room. Something in the way Patton moved, reminded him of the small mechanism closed in the mechanic chest, bringing back all the memories it of problems it caused. Logan rubbed his temple and sighed “I feel like we’re slowly getting there, though there are still some things we need to work on. Sit.” he ordered shortly, closing the notebook. “I have to open the chest.”

The smile immediately dropped off of Patton’s face but he obeyed without a word of complaint, putting both hands on the back of the table. It was no secret that Patton disliked when Logan opened his body to check something, even if it meant fixing an issue or solving a problem. “The examination” usually had negative impact on his mood and till the end of the day, he was much more quiet than usual. It got worse when Roman finished working on his skin and hair. Now Patton’s face looked as if he was born human. Although it didn’t get cold, nor warm, it was soft and the curves of the metallic plates under it were barely visible. They could easily be mistaken as a sharp jawline bones. Patton was extremely happy with the effect. He spent days touching his own face and adjusting the wig. In this situation Logan’s “examinations” were like a painful reminder that he in fact wasn’t the same like the rest of them.

Before Logan managed to reach for the first button of Patton’s shirt, the other one lightly pushed his hand away.

“If you excuse me, I would prefer doing it myself.” he said and though he was speaking perfectly casually, it was hard to pretend that he wasn’t sad “And Roman?”

“Hm?” hummed the man in reply, looking through the window on the harbour.

“If you didn’t mind…” Patton bit his lips. Roman did really good job with this part of his body, making it soft with a special plasma which was created with Logan’s help “Could you go out until I’m all closed again?”

Roman smiled lightly at the ask.

“Of course. Someone has to open the doors for Virgil anyway!” his eyes brightened up slightly “Oh and Patton? If you don’t mind, I want to do a check up on your sews later, is that alright with you? Because I have a feeling that they are asymmetrical and-”

“No problem!” beamed Patton “Just make sure to be careful this time! I don’t want another needle in the neck situation! You could use one of these small nails this time! You almost nailed that technique!” he joked lightly, slowly opening the first button of the shirt.

“Will do, Pat. Call me when you’re two are done.” Roman suggested and walked out of the room, leaving Logan and Patton alone.

The workshop instantly filled with uncomfortable silent, only the sound of the sea coming from outside, destroying the perfect peacefulness of the place. Patton looked at Logan who was currently adjusting the chair so that his face could be directly at the level of his chest.

“You look so serious, Lo.” mumbled Patton, unbuttoning his shirt, slowly revealing the cracks covering his skin. Even though major part of his body was perfectly covered with something akin to a skin, the chest and back looked like a patchwork blanket. The flappers were uneven and the shades of squares differed from each other. Each of the cracks covering his chest marked place which could be opened. Through each of them someone could get inside Patton’s body and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Well, this is serious work.” replied Logan, putting Patton’s shirt away. Without a warning, he pressed one of the flappers on the left. The mechanism let go, slowly, revealing a hole on the level of Patton’s heart and left lung.

“Is it necessary?” asked Patton when Logan’s hand dived in his chest. He knew that there’s nothing to fear- Logan wouldn’t hurt him, but the feeling was unsettling. It made him feel like an object again.

“There’s some issue I want to fix…” muttered Logan, but it seemed that he said that more to himself than Patton. Something clicked inside and Logan took out his hand “How do you feel?”

“Hmm….” hummed Patton “It seems that my right ear isn’t working and beside that I’m fine.” he smiled brightly, hoping that Logan would smile back.

“So that’s not the problem caused by switchers…” sighed Logan, not even trying to hide the disappointment and put the hand back into the chest. If Patton didn’t see him doing that, he wouldn’t even feel that there’s something inside of him.

“Maybe I could help?” suggested Patton softly “I know myself the best, right?’

Logan looked up at him, adjusting the glasses. His eyes revealed a mix of surprise and disbelief.

“Technically, I know you the best.” he said, maintaining the eye-contact. Patton’s heart let out a soft squeak and if he could he would blush. That sounded like a beginning of actual conversation. Something Patton was dying to do with Logan for a long time.

“No. You know me best from the technical side. That’s different.” he pointed proudly “I’ve done my homework and read all these dictionaries you left me, Lo. There’s a difference between word ‘technically’ and ‘technical’.” The switcher under his collarbone clicked again.

“You don’t understand it, do you?” Logan shook his head, getting up “I mean, I’m not surprised. How could you?” he turned away from Patton, walking over to the shelf standing nearby.

Patton frowned. If he got a penny every time Logan shook his head at him, he would be rich by now. And he could provide some money for better accumulators. That would made Logan happy, wouldn’t it?

“How could I understand what, Logan?” something in Patton boiled and he firmly closed the flapper on his chest and pulled on his shirt. He wished for nothing more than an explanation on what he should improve. He would do anything to be more of a human.

“Nothing.” shot Logan.

“Tell me! I can learn this, i promise!” whined Patton, jumping off the table and trying to button his shirt with one hand, while the other rested on the wall as he tried to stood straightly. The sensors always needed time to adjust to the new position.

“There are things that are out of your range of knowledge.” cut Logan, taking another screwdriver out of the box. Patton immediately froze at his spot.

“Do we have to use this nasty thing today?” he said quietly “It burns every time… Like you were stabbing me.” he added, looking at the ground.

“Preposterous. How could you know how does it feel like to be stabbed.” Logan sat back on his chair. “Sit back. I want this to be over just as much as you do.”

“I read about stabbing in the book, Virgil loaned to me… There was a prince and he was fighting an evil dragon to save his friend. And he got stabbed and it hurt.” mumbled Patton. This time he let Logan unbutton his shirt by himself. He felt a slight pang when Logan pressed another part of his chest. He had been thinking a lot about that. That he shouldn’t feel anything whenever he was opened but he couldn’t help the shiver. The cold air, broke into his insidings, penetrating every dark corner of his body. A reminder that he was in fact hollow inside.

“Books can’t provide full knowledge.” hummed Logan, putting the screwdriver into the corpus. Patton hissed quietly.

“But you said yourself that books are the key.” he said after few minutes quietly. He didn’t want to interrupt Logan in his work but he craved for the conversation more than usual.

Logan’s lips quirked up and Patton’s heart squealed again. The sound was soft, as if his heart wasn’t a clumsy ball made out of wire and mixture of metals, that somehow came to life. It sounded like something alive. Embarrassed of his reactions Patton put one of his hand on the chest, trying to muffle the sound but he couldn’t help it. He loved when Logan smiled.

“They are the key indeed.” agreed Logan, pulling out the screwdriver “But not books like these ones that Virgil brings. Not fairy tales. They don’t provide actual knowledge. I don’t understand why you insist on reading them.” He said, looking at Patton and covering the hole with one hand, gently pressing the flapper back on its place. The sign that they were done for today.

“They help me learn how to dream!” declared Patton proudly. Logan snorted.

“I told you that you don’t dream.”

“Roman, insists that I can!” cried Patton, the emotions rolled through his body.

“I’m losing my patience here. Haven’t I put it clear?” asked Logan “You just do check-ups on the mechanism inside you.”

“But I feel things when I’m asleep!” Patton grabbed Logan’s arm and frantically shook the other man, jumping off the table. “Once I had a dream that I was flying!”

“Eighteen moves when you sleep. That’s why.” dwelled Logan through clenched teeth. His face was flushing in the deep shade of red. His words added only more fuel to the anger boiling in Patton’s heart.

“There’s no Eighteen!” shouted out Patton “I’m not Eighteen, I’m Patton!” black, thick tear rolled down his cheek. Patton tried wiping it off but instead he smared the liquid across his cheek.

“I am aware of that and don’t get overexcited, it may be dangerous for the mechanism.” pointed Logan, sighing as if he was dealing with a stubborn child. He handed an old handkerchief. With one firm gesture, Patton slapped away Logan’s hand, leaving a mark stain on his palm.

Patton’s eyes filled with black tears, making his eyes almost completely black. He tried blinking them away but it only made everything worse. His vision was almost completely dark and he gripped the edges of the table behind him even tighter, afraid of losing his consciousness. It happened often, whenever emotions were too overwhelming for him. Patton breathed heavily. The cold air drawn through his nostrils, were tickling him from the inside, causing nausea. It took him all his self-control not to spill the dark liquid that was circulating in his circuit everywhere around him.

“If you’re aware then why don’t you even use my name?!” cried out Patton, “Why it’s never Patton? Why is it only ‘you’? Or ‘it’?! You think i don’t remember, do you?” laughed Patton bitterly, the thick tears were running down his face, creating black streams. “I do remember everything! I remember being a small ball locked in a box! I remember your voice! I remember you saying so many times that you can’t wait until I… until I would break down forever so that you could work on something better! But I also remember your gentle voice when I made a sound for the first time! I remember how you fell asleep trying to work out how I could work better! And yet! You-” Patton didn’t care if whole house could hear him or not. All he could see was Logan’s face, unreadable as always, the most advanced books of them all “I’m sorry for being such a disappointed to you! I’m sorry for being… I’m sorry for being Patton not Eighteen or Seventeen or-” he stopped abruptly. His eyes closed and he stumbled across the table. Logan caught him in the last moment before Patton collapsed on the floor.

Sighing, the man put Patton on the small couch nearby. The thick tears desiccated on his face. Small, black bubbles in the dark streams under his eyes, looked like mold. Logan crouched down next to the lying Patton. He looked as if he was sleeping. Cautiously he used his handkerchief to wipe the black streams off his face. He only managed to make them look worse, painting Patton’s whole face with unhealthy shade of dark grey. Sticking out his tongue, Logan adjusted the wig which slipped to the left in the process. Patton’s hair was soft under the touch and for a moment Logan wanted to play with it a little bit longer. Until Patton would wake up. He backed off quickly. No. He shouldn’t think like that. This… abnormal creature was his project, and it should stay that way.

Walking out of the room, he passed Roman and Virgil standing nervously in the corridor. He looked at them and they looked at him, eyes full of worry.

“It fainted but should wake up soon. A lot of goo smeared on his face. It may be hard to clean up.” Logan said clearing his throat.

“Why did he cry?” Virgil’s eyes were dark and hunched.

Logan blinked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. It was interior error. I will try to get rid of it.” said Logan coldly before disappearing in his room. The door shut with loud bang.

----

Roman and Virgil exchanged half confused and half scared looks. They didn’t hear everything from the conversation but the cries that escaped Patton’s throat were more than highly disturbing.

“You’re gonna talk to Logan and I will talk to Patton?” asked Roman with the hand on the doorknob leading to the workshop.

“Sure but I want to wait until Patton is at least a little bit awake.” nodded Virgil.

The atmosphere in the workshop wore the signs of argument. Roman as an official housekeeper, quickly noticed that the chaos on the tables and shelves was different from the casual messiness. The negative vibes were still twitching in the air, making Virgil shiver. He hated loud, aggressive voices, no matter how much he wanted to get used to them. Seeing his trembling hand, Roman gently squeezed Virgil’s arm, sending a reassuring smile.

They didn’t have any troubles with finding Patton in this mess. He was sleeping in his usual place, in the nook in the corner. Books were piling next to the couch. One of Patton’s hands was dangling off the edge. On the contrary to when he was awake, now his chest wasn’t moving. He looked like a sculpture or a doll with face marked with black tears.

“We should clean his face before he wakes up.” whispered Virgil and kneeled next to the bed. His fingers ran through Patton’s unkempt, curly locks. “Could you bring me a glass of water to wet the cloth?”

“Of course.” nodded Roman and left the room.

Virgil sat next to the couch, back leaning on the arm holder. Suddenly he felt utterly and completely lonely. He looked over his shoulder. Patton’s chest still wasn’t moving which meant that he’s deep asleep. Virgil took the first book lying on the top of the pile. He knew all of them, as most of the titles he remembered from his childhood. Old, colorful fairy tales, full of brave knights and beautiful princesses. With surprise, he noticed that some parts of the books were marked with a grey pencil. He read the first fragment.

It was the story about a shy prince who was afraid of going outside. Because of that he locked himself in the highest tower, to dedicate his life to studying old volumes. One day the kingdom was attacked with a plague. Despite the danger, prince decided to stay in the castle, letting his family escape to the faraway land alone. The prince didn’t even notice when the plague was gone. His family never came back and he stayed in his tower. Finally one day, a competition was held under his tower. The citizens of the country forgot about the prince many years earlier and thought that the tower is abandoned. Prince from his tower heard exactly what was the goal of the race- the first knight who climb on the top of the castle would win. A shadow of fear fell on prince’s heart. He was afraid that someone would find him and force him to go out of the tower. Terrified prince, hid under the bed. He could hear the sound of battles coming from the staircase. Finally, someone opened the door widely, letting the scent of sweat and grass inside. The smell was so intriguing that prince crawled from underneath his bed. At first the knight wanted to fight! But prince quickly explained his situation. The knight immediately felt sorry for the prince and decided to help him. Bringing prince out of the tower wasn’t easy- it took them months of honest conversations and hours filled with tears. Finally a year after the competition, the prince and knight went out of the tower. It turned out that prince’s family was waiting for him to go out all that time. He reunited with his family and made the knight his personal adviser. And they lived happily ever after.

Salty tear fell at the page and Virgil with terror noticed that he was crying. He tried to wipe of the tears quickly before anyone sees, when someone grabbed his hand from behind. Virgil turned around. Patton was looking at him with his clear blue eyes.

“I cried today too.” he smiled weakly, his curls spread across the fluffy pillow.

“Did…” Virgil’s voice was rough and quiet “Did Logan hurt you?”

Patton hummed, putting the finger on his lower lip.

“No, I don’t think he did. Well, except for the screwdriver. It always hurts.” Patton covered his forehead with his arm as though he was trying to protect his eyes from the sun.

“If he didn’t hurt you then why were you crying?” asked Virgil, fully turning to face Patton.

“I had a disagreement with Logan. But this is normal.” Patton tried smiling but it also made him look sadder, the dark stains were still covering his cheeks “We’re different after all…” he added after a while.

“Logan is jealous of you.” said Virgil quietly.

“I doubt that.” laughed Patton “He despise me, I think. I’m nothing he expected me to be.” and before Virgil managed to deny that, he asked: “Virgil, can I ask you something? Why did you take me back then? When I exploded into pieces? I remember the fire that was eating me from inside and I thought that it was the end of me. And then I felt something warm and smooth. Your hand. You gathered every single piece of what used to be my body and demanded Logan to fix me. Why?”

Patton’s eyes were big, curious and pleading and Virgil knew that he simply couldn’t escape from the truth. He rubbed his nape, trying to buy himself some time. Virgil, however, was never a good liar.

“There were many reasons for that.” He sighed, watching Patton prompt on his elbows. Virgil waited until he made himself comfortable before picking up the subject “Mostly because I was sent by my parents to sponsor something extraordinary which would make our family even more famous and noble. I was searching for something that would speak to my heart, to my soul. And I’ve seen many wonderful inventions but they were nothing but empty objects, aimed at the marked. And then I saw you. I saw a soul. And I knew that if I have to support something financially, it has to be another soul.” He exhaled shakily. The amount of words flew through him like a wild river, washing his bangs, splashing water on his insidings. Bringing both freshness and the feeling that something had passed and would never come back.

“Can I ask one more thing?”

“Shoot. It’s a saying.” he explained beforehand.

Patton chewed on his lips, playing with small pencil between his fingers.

“Did your family approved the choice? Of the project you decided to support in their name?

Virgil looked Patton right into eyes, trying to figure out if he could lie about this. Two deep blue mirrors of the soul were staring right at him. For a moment it felt like Virgil could see himself crying in these magnetizing orbs.

His lips formed into a perfect circle but no sound came out of his mouth. Patton nodded with understanding. He didn’t need words to know.

In the same moment, the door to the workshop swung opened and Roman walked into the room, carrying a big buckle of water and clean clothes.

“Oh, Patton! You’re awake! How magnificent! Are you feeling better?” He asked worryingly rushing to the couch. Virgil quickly moved away, leaving more space of him.

“I feel much better, I just needed a nap.” said Patton, revealing two rows of perfectly white teeth.

Unsure of what to do Roman glanced at Virgil who coughed loudly before getting up.

“I will leave you two here. I have some… business to attend.” he excused himself.

“Logan left. I tried to stop him but he told me that he had to go.” said Roman quietly, carefully washing Patton’s face. The water in the bucket were slowly tinting in the shade of faint black. The color of Patton’s tears.

“Shit.” cursed Virgil. He bit his thumb anxiously, trying to think of what to do next.

Roman put down the cloth.

“Go home, Virgil. I know that you planned to come here only for a minute today. You should really go home.” he sighed, folding the cloth again. He wanted Virgil to stay longer, they barely got to talk but he knew that he was probably very busy man. It was not Roman’s intention to stand in the way of Virgil’s career. “I can deal with this myself.” he added, avoiding to look at Virgil. He decided to focus mainly of washing off especially dark stain in the corner of Patton’s eyes.

“If you say so…” mumbled Virgil and lightly patted Roman’s shoulder. The kneeling man smiled to himself at this awkward but innocent gesture. “See you soon, Patton.”

“And you too Roman.” he said and turned around.

Only when Virgil was climbing up the small stairs that were leading to the door, Roman let himself send a longing look at the back of disappearing male. He loved his posture. He was tall, but not too tall. Slim but not skinny. Well-built but definitely not muscular. There was something graceful even in the way he walked up the stairs. Closing the door, Virgil caught Roman’s gaze and before the other managed to turn away, he sent him a shy smile. Roman blushed and started rubbing the stain off with even more energy than before. He had completely forgotten that he wasn’t alone.

Patton hummed quietly, dragging Roman’s attention back to himself.

“Am I interrupting something?” asked Patton arching his brow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” answered Roman shortly, refusing to look at Patton.

“If you say so…” said Patton, innocently fluttering his eyelashes.

Roman’s blush deepened but he didn’t say anything at this remark. He worked for a few minutes in silence. As soon as he finished cleaning up Patton’s face and neck which also suffered from his thick, dark tears, he immediately started checking the small sews and stitches that ran down Patton’s neck. They were barely visible from the distance. Roman was aiming for them to look like a scar, that an actual sew.

“Well they look quite nice. I’m pretty sure that we don’t have to change them any time soon.” he declared finally, rubbing the place where neck was meeting with the shoulder’s frame. He gently nagged one of the middle stitches checking if they weren’t to lose, almost purring with pride.

“But you will check them next week too…?” asked Patton worryingly, touching the spot which Roman examinted few seconds earlier. He sat up on the couch making a space for Roman to rest next to him.

“Of course!” smiled Roman “That’s no problem for me!” he threw himself on the couch, sighing heavily. It took him longer than Logan and Virgil to get used to Patton but ever since he started working on his appearance, they grew significantly closer. It was a tough and rocky path but they finally have created something that could be called a close friendship. Roman also helped Patton find the answers to the most abstract questions, explaining feelings, emotions and relations between people. With Virgil’s help, they taught Patton about proper etiquette, which felt a little bit as though they were raising up a child. But Patton was very clever student, he never asked the same question twice and if he had a problem with something, he usually tried to find the answer by himself first before asking any of them.

“Oh, I see that you read some new fairy tales!” said Roman excitedly.

“I took your advice! I think they really help me understand what is to dream!” smiled Patton brightfully, leaning over to grab the book which Virgil read. “The drawings in this one are so pretty!” he squealed in joy. “Like small pieces of art! I can’t decide what I like more: drawings or the story itself!”

“Who said you have to chose?” laughed Roman “Life is all about compromises, dearest Patton! Especially when it comes to people or things you care about!” he said dreamingly.

Patton smiled slightly and leaned over the book.

“Virgil really likes this story, I think.” hummed Patton, immediately gaining Roman’s attention.

“How do you know? What is it about? He told you so?” He shot the questions faster than Patton could answer.

“Well, he read it and…” Patton bit his lips, he suspected that Virgil would prefer if he didn’t reveal that he cried “He just read it and looked like he liked it!” Patton skimmed the book, trying to find the ending of the story. Finally, he opened it on a beautiful hand-drawn drawing marking the end of the story “Look, at the end the knight and the prince were both happy and successful! And they conquered their fears! Happy ending, right?” smiled Patton and Roman only shook his head.

“You know what would be a happy ending? The prince and the knight falling in love and living together forever! I would want an ending like that. Especially for myself.” said Roman blushing fiercely.

“Oh.” gasped Patton, putting his hands on his lips. Roman’s heart hammered loudly. Maybe he should not have said that? After all, this was not a relationship approved by the society in this land. The fear came after him like a cold shower. This felt different than talking with Remy about the asexuality spectrum. Patton was his close friend and if he didn’t accept Roman… he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

“I… I mean…” Roman tried to explain but his own voice refused to cooperate with him. With eyes, filled with terror, he looked at the man, sitting next to him.

“That’s so cute!” squealed Patton finally. His eyes were big like a plate, shining with all shades of blue “I just realize that it’s like Virgil and you! You could be a prince and he could be a knight!”

“Nonsense!” laughed Roman nervously, the hotness on his cheeks spreading down his neck, coloring his warm skin tone with red shades. “We’re just friends!”

“Mhm…” murmured Patton, skimming the book and smiling mischievously.

Roman sighed with relief. So it seemed that Patton wouldn’t mind. It was a nice, comforting thought. His thoughts went to Joan and the support they showed to Roman once. He knew that he would never forget their help. He loved Joan in the most platonic way possible but it was also that kind of love that he would never want to forget about.

“You know Patton…” he started, trying to pour all his deepest dreams and desires into one, simple sentence “No matter what shape, love is something worth dreaming for. And it’s also worth all kind of compromises. As long as both of the people give, not only take; as long as they love to the point they are willing to overlook each other flaws… Love is worth it.”

Patton tilted his head to the side. Creamy stitches shined in the beamed light coming through the window.

“Has that always been your dream, Roman? Love?”

“No… Not really... “ humms Roman “Just like you, I had to learn how to dream. You think that I had this all figured out since I was born? Fat chance! Oh, if you met me few years ago… You wouldn’t recognize me.” chuckled Roman, playing with his short braid. “Well, dear Patton. It’s getting dark and I would prefer to get home before the street fills with disgusting, drunk, stinky men. So if you excuse me, I will take my leave.”

Patton nodded energetically to show that he understood, but before Roman managed to walk away, he pushed the book with fairy tales into his hands.

“You can borrow it. I’m sure that Virgil wouldn’t mind and I have a feeling like you need this more than I do.” smiled Patton brightly. Seconds later Roman’s arms wrapped around Patton’s neck. Hugs had became an unavoidable point of their daily farewells.

When Roman left, Patton let his head rest on the pillow once again. He was tired. The thoughts were spinning in his head. He had many things to think about but he knew exactly what to do- Roman explained it clearly. If Patton wanted to make Logan happy he had to go on compromise.

Next chapter

If you liked this fic and appreciate 6 months of my hard work you can consider supporting me on KO-FI.

#vic writes horizons #horizons

15 notes · View notes

whattimeisitintokyo · 6 years

Text

Somos Familia: Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Rivera Familia de Zapateros

Senor Guzman was shocked when he came to the Rivera household to find Héctor, the man who had supposedly abandoned his wife and child to achieve music stardom, sitting in living area with Imelda, eagerly requesting that he take him on as an apprentice shoemaker as well. Having taught Imelda and her brothers the fine art of shoemaking for the past few months, she had remained tight lipped about her husband and so he had stopped inquiring about his whereabouts. But now here she was with him, smiling at him with love and pride as he prattled on about wanting to learn the trade to support his family. Given her fiery temperament, Senor Guzman wasn’t going to ask what had happened in the last two days that had warranted such a drastic change. Nor was he going to question why Héctor had two wads of damp cloth shoved up his nostrils.

After a nice lunch, the twins started to clean the kitchen and wash the dishes while Imelda put Coco down for her afternoon nap. This is when Guzman pulled Héctor aside to speak with him privately.

“I know this is sudden Senor Guzman, but I want to thank you again for agreeing to teach me.” Héctor beamed. “I guarantee you that my hands are up to the challenge. They’re so callused from playing guitar I bet a needle wouldn’t even be able to pierce them.”

Guzman patted him on the back. “It’s no problem at all Héctor. And it’s true; you need good strong hands in order to craft shoes. Big, strong… manly hands.”

Héctor’s eyebrows quirked up a little at that, but he shook it off and chuckled. “Well, I don’t know about that. My Imelda has strong hands as well. You’ve never been on the receiving end of her boot.”

“Héctor, my boy.” Guzman smiled and held his hands out to his sides, trying to explain. “Let us end this little game. I only agreed to teach Imelda because, basically, it was the only way to shut her up. For three months, ay Dios mio, the nagging! Always with ‘Please Senor, I’m the only one in town who is able to do it’ and ‘Think of my poor daughter, I need to feed her’. I must admit, that’s what got to me in the end. I only agreed because she was a poor mother with no husband to provide for them. But I can tell that a tiny woman like her would never be able to craft such magnificent boots by herself, so I made her bring her brothers in as well. And now,” he said, slapping Héctor happily on the shoulder, “now that you’re here, I can teach you in her place, and she can go back to where she belongs: Taking care of your daughter and feeding her family like a proper wife and mother!”

Throughout his little spiel, Senor Guzman didn’t notice Héctor’s confused smile slowly fade into a frown, nor the creaking of his teeth as his jaw clinched and his cheeks slowly turning a deep shade of red. Carefully he plucked the pieces of cloth from his nose and slipped them into his pocket and hummed a little laugh. Then he clamped a hand hard on Guzman’s bony shoulder and gave him a hearty shake.

“Ah, Senor Guzman, throughout my life me and my amigos would wonder why you never had a wife of your own. See, I always thought it had been because you were too short and had the face of a gecko. But now I can see it was because of your… glowing attitude towards women a little bit stronger than you. That is all women.”

Guzman sputtered at that. “What are you?!-“

“You see, the thing is, senor, I am a musician. It is my passion. I think about music and songs and playing my guitar all day long. Shoes, on the other hand? Bah, it’s just a way for me to make money. But for Imelda?” Héctor sighed wistfully. “Ay, yesterday she gave me such a speech about shoes with such a reverence it was inspiring! It was beautiful! Now, I thought that it was something you had told her, but after hearing the way you speak I now know that those words came from her heart. Shoes are her passion.”

Héctor bent down to Guzman miniscule height and growled, “So, you are going to continue to teach Imelda how to make shoes, everything down to the smallest detail, so that she will build her own business and become the finest shoemaker in all of Mexico. And if you do anything or say anything to make her lose that passion, I’ll take one of your magnificently crafted boots and shove them up your-“

“Sorry to keep you waiting Senor Guzman!” Imelda came in, and Héctor straightened up and gave her a glowing smile while still keeping a tight grip on the old man’s shoulder. “Coco should be asleep for at least the next two hours. Plenty of time to get started uninterrupted!”

“I can’t wait mi amor!” Héctor gushed. “Feels like I’m in school again. Doesn’t it, profesor?” He gave the old man a little shake, who whimpered a little and nodded, not trusting his voice.

“Perfecto!” Imelda smiled back, too happy to notice the awkwardness. “This is start of a new chapter in our lives!” She left to go to the makeshift workshop with a skip in her step and humming one of Héctor’s songs, something she hadn’t done in quite some time.

Héctor smiled and moved to follow her, but not before turning back to the quaking zapatero. “Remember what I said cabrón.” He made a circle with his thumb and index finger, and then shoved two fingers from his other hand through it with a whistling sound. “With spurs.” He added.

---------------------------------------

It took two months before Imelda and the twins were deemed ready to start their own business as shoemakers. Despite picking up the craft pretty quickly, Héctor was still in need of some training, but Senor Guzman assured her that she was more than capable of teaching him the rest herself. Imelda was very surprised and confused when the day after he had said his goodbyes and good lucks to the Riveras he had packed up his belongings and moved out of the city. Héctor wasn’t.

It was all set up. The shop was stocked with bolts of leather, nails, tools and a beautiful sewing machine that Héctor had bought with his earnings from playing several parties over the last few weeks. Héctor had put out flyers in bright colors all over Mariachi Plaza and the nearby streets proudly proclaiming the date of the store’s opening. And the twins had painted a beautiful sign on the outside wall that said Rivera: Familia de Zapateros, desde 1921. When questioned why it wasn’t written as 1922 since that was when it was opening, Imelda reasoned that the whole business started when the idea popped into her head. Everyone agreed with that.

And so Héctor, the twins and Coco stood in a line, ramrod straight as Imelda paced back in forth in front of them. “Mi familia, this is it. This is the moment we have all trained for. The start of a family business, the roots of a mighty tree that will grow and branch out into the unknown! We are ready for it! Héctor!”

“Si!”

“You are still learning, but any customer that comes in today, you will get their measurements and get the supplies ready.”

“Si, senora!” Héctor saluted.

“Oscar y Felipe!” Imelda barked.

“Si!” “Si!”

“You two will be in charge of cutting the materials. We’ll start slow today, so Oscar you will do the left shoes, and Felipe you will do the right ones. I’ll be in charge of the sewing and when that’s done you two will then tack them together.” Both twins saluted.

“What about me, Mamá?” Coco asked.

“Coco, your job is the most important: Customer service.” Imelda smiled. “Keep the customers happy, talk to them, show them your dance moves. Just be our adorable little Coco.” Coco giggled and saluted. Imelda then went to the window that had been turned into the service counter. “Alright then, you all know your jobs. Therefore, I declare the Rivera shoe workshop open!” She swung the shutters of the window wide to reveal a crowd of…

No one.

Imelda’s shoulder sagged a little and she paused before turning back around. “Well, it is still early. Once people have had their breakfast then they will come out to shop.”

But hours passed, and still no customers. Several people did walk by and Imelda tried to persuade them to come in, but none were interested and went on their way. After several rounds of ‘are you sure you put today’s date on the flyers’ and ‘yes, of course mi amor’, it was then the afternoon and no one had had any lunch yet. Imelda’s hope started to dwindle.

“I’m sorry.” She said to the four of them. “You all should have eaten by now. I’ll… go whip up something quick.”

Héctor’s heart broke a little for his wife. “Imelda, don’t be so down. There’s always tomorrow-“

“Discúlpame, por favor.” A voice asked, and five heads whipped around to see a stocky man standing at the service counter. “Is today the day you open your shop?”

There was a second’s pause before the twins rushed out the door, each taking the gentleman by the arm and dragging him into the store. Héctor pulled up a chair and dusted it off for him to sit on, and Imelda guided him to it. All the while a clamor of greetings assaulted the poor man.

“SI, YES we are open!”

“Buenos tardes, senor!”

“Bienvenidos, senor!”

“Have a seat, senor!”

“Would you like a glass of water, senor?”

“What is your name, senor?”

The customer took the glass of water from the adorable little girl and startled at the last question. “Oh! Um… my name is Manuel Fernández.”

“Manuel…Fernández.” Imelda wrote the name down on her notepad. “A wonderful name. A proud name! Manuel Fernández will forever be known as the first customer of the Rivera shoemakers. You must be so proud!”

“Uh, si. I guess…” Manuel muttered.

Imelda cleared her throat. “Now then, down to business. No offense, Senor Fernández, but your boots have seen better days from the looks of them.” She pointed down to the man’s boots, which were caked in mud and had a hole worn in one of the toes.

“Ay, si.” Manuel sighed. “I’ve had these for only five months and they haven’t lasted well at all. That Guzman was getting shoddy in his work at his age, and I’m glad he retired. I’m hoping you all could do a better job than him.”

“Of course, Senor Fernández. We want everyone to know that we treat all of our customers like they were our own familia.” Imelda smiled, and then gestured at her husband. “Héctor, please take this gentleman’s measurements.”

“With pleasure, mi amor.” Héctor said as he snapped out a tape measure.

Measurements were taken and recorded, materials were selected and specifications were made for a new pair of boots, with the promise of them being ready by tomorrow afternoon. Manuel was floored.

“Tomorrow? En serio?” Manuel asked. “It would always take Guzman a week to do my boots before.”

Imelda laughed haughtily. “Senor Guzman was only one man.”

“We are four!” Héctor crowed.

“Senor Guzman was old.” Imelda continued.

“We are young!” the twins cheered.

“Once you try on our boots, you will never go anywhere else again, because we are-“

The twins unveiled a banner behind Héctor and Imelda, bearing the store name, little Coco flung out two handfuls of colorful confetti, and they all said in unison:

“RIVERA FAMILIA DE ZAPATEROS!”

The confetti settled on the ground, all of them posing with their arms out and beaming at the confused patron. “A-Alright then.” He mumbled. “I’ll come back tomorrow.” And with that he dashed out of the store as fast as his decaying boots would let him.

Oscar lowered his portion of the banner. “We’re not going to do this for every customer are we?”

Héctor waved him off. “Nah, I think this was a one-time thing.”

Felipe pouted. “So we made this banner to do this one time?”

“Enough of that, chicos!” Imelda said clapping her hands together. “Let’s get to work!”

---------------------------

Héctor and the twins watched anxiously as Manuel walked around the workshop testing out his new boots. They had worked long and hard into the night, only stopping to eat and sleeping very little, to not only make the deadline but to make sure everything was perfect. The finished product, in their eyes, was beautiful. The first real pair of boots they had made as a business and as a family, which they would remember forever. Héctor wistfully wished he could take a foto of the boots and have it framed. Imelda scoffed at such a silly notion, but Héctor could see in her eyes that she felt the same.

Manuel stopped walking and looked up with a big smile. “I have to admit I had my doubts, but I am very impressed!”

Héctor and the twins gasped and grinned at each other. “You mean it?!”

“I do!” Manuel twisted his ankle to and fro. “It doesn’t rub me anywhere so I know it won’t give me blisters. It’s like it was perfectly molded to my foot!” He quirked an eyebrow at them. “You sure that old Viejo Guzman taught you this?”

“Well, we may have made some tweaks ourselves.” Oscar admitted.

“But in the end it came out beautifully, don’t you agree?” Felipe asked.

“I agree!” Manuel reached into his pocket. “In fact, I’m going to tell all my ranch hands about this place, and all my amigos. I can tell you are all going to be a big success.” He pulled out his hand and handed Héctor ten gold coins. “And I am proud to be your first customer.”

“G-gracias, senor!” Héctor said as he and the twins waved their first customer goodbye. Then he shuffled the gold coins in his hand at them. “Look at it, chamacos! Our first sale!”

“We’re going to eat well this week!” Oscar laughed.

“I can’t believe Imelda missed it. This was because of her after all; it’s really her first sale!” Felipe moaned.

“Where is she anyway?” Oscar asked.

“I don’t know.” Héctor said. “She said she had to go wake up Coco from her nap, but she should have been back by now.”

“PAPÁ! PAPÁ!” a shriek sounded from across the courtyard, startling the three men. Coins clattered to the floor forgotten as they raced out the door to find Coco jumping up and down from outside the kitchen.

“Mija, what’s wrong?!” Héctor asked.

“Mamá’s sick! Help her!” Coco cried, tears streaming down her face.

“Imelda?!” Héctor rushed into the kitchen to find his wife leaning over the sink, as heaves wracked her body and she expelled her lunch into the basin. Héctor raced over to support her, rubbing circles over her back. “It’s okay, mi amor. I got you.” He soothed.

“I’m fine.” Imelda moaned and gagged again before wiping her mouth with a rag. “I’m sorry for scaring you and Coco. I’m fine, really.”

Héctor’s fears weren’t abated. “Imelda?” he whispered.

Imelda looked up at her husband, her eyes full of love and a smile gracing her lips. “I think you and I need to go to the doctor.”

#pixar coco #coco pixar #Hector Rivera #imelda rivera #mama imelda #mama coco

43 notes · View notes