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sazzafraz · 3 years

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dropped a cup of coffee on myself at breakfast lets gooo

nodus tollens is my favourite chapter its not even close

like i actually LIKED writing it. i like writing in general but its about being someone represented with all the scary sword cards in tarot readings not actual fun. still annoyed i didn’t think of anything better than fucking HEMMINGWAY

A year and a half into working for Giri and Sasuke is sitting cross legged on top of a boulder looking out at a clear blue sky. They’re sitting by the edge of a huge cliff in Fire Country resting between assassinating some small time village leader and their next mission which promises to be heavy on full contact fighting. The sun is dipping towards the horizon, warm air ruffling their hair. Yumi is trying to throw Hiki off the cliff into the lake below, Haru is defleaing his dog and Sasuke is debating his next move in the long distance tactical game he’s playing with Juugo and Karin. It’s an Uzushio classic, like shogi but the board is made of three interlocked spirals and the movements of the pieces are based on the tides. Karin is slaughtering him.

fun fact: literally started designing that uzushio game because i’m a psychopath. it’s also the first of three references, two in the same chapter, of sasuke and his teams, and then one at the end where everyone gets together. to make fun of sasuke. as they should.

There are seven graves by the edge of the sea with a bright blooming flowers planted in the centre spilling over the cliff. Tall markers stand as high as three metres in the air wreathed with ribbons in the colours of dawn and day... Sasuke spares a look back as he enters and sees those graves and flowers. The flowers have colonised the side of the cliff, growing strong and sure halfway down the rocks, slipping into crevices and tangling around each other as they race towards the ocean. Huge blooms of colour, bright reds, light pinks and creamy yellows are knocked about by the waves crashing against the cliff.

if fuyuki even knew how much this colours sasukes opinion of her she’d beat the shit out of him. i think this was the second bit i wrote for her, after a few pieces of her and itachi. actually if she knew how much both of them are coloured by knowing her past she’d commit a crime. its pretty apparent to sasuke that these are memorials to children/those that died young and unfair. how would he know haha. i always intended the hashira and the uchiha as parallels. i think the lack of depth given to other clans sucks, especially when they have literally a thousand years of interaction. the only other one we have are the hyuuga which might have been an intended one but like. i’ve never bought it.

anyway, back to sasuke. dude loves kids. he doesn’t figure it out until he has nine of ‘em, but he has a view of children that’s incredibly sincere. i pretty much decided that on my own cause: a) its funny, b) he was fucking SWEET as a kid and i’ll kill you before i let you tell me that kid went away, c) he’s from a huge close knit family/community and liking kids is the only way to get through that,

oh. also fuyuki does cotton on to his emotional compromise and IMMEDIATELY lies so he likes her more. morals who?

“It seems,” Fuyuki says into the silence, “that Sunagakure has decided we have a problem. I sent Mamoru as a goodwill ambassador to Wind a few months ago. It went well, and as Suna is a largely neutral player in most conflicts I did not see the problem in allowing a small ambassadorial group into Oto to further the relationship. At the fourth meeting one of the Suna delegation proved themselves to be a puppet and assassinated Mamoru. They were in the process of trying to loot us when they were killed.”

haha oh my god gaara fucks himself so hard here. we’re gonna talk about it.

Now it’s leaving time and Sasuke is walking fast downtown, faces passing him as he’s bound for home base.

only two people ever commented on this. vip behaviour.

Shikamaru raises a hand and waves.

Sasuke waves back.

Shikamaru looks at him expectantly across the crowd. Distantly Sasuke notes that he’s the taller of the two. Head’s bob and weave around the marketplace, someone drops an avocado which is swept up a child and her friends, the scent of cooking spices drift down from the top of one of the buildings. Sasuke and Shikamaru stare at eachother.

i never wrote the short for this but this is shikamaru’s nightmare scenario. finding sasuke when naruto is not with you is the k12′s personal hell. because konoha and giri are tentative allies it would be poaching to bring him back and thats something people still take seriously. shikamaru goes and gets FUCKED UP so no one trusts his report and he can claim that it was ONLY MAYBE THE PRETTIEST MAN IN THE FLEA MARKET. naruto finds out like a decade later and is extremely pissed even if he gets it.

It’s a tale as old as the dust of the desert or the mountains that divide the nations. There is a boy who loses something. His honour, a cow, a sword. He has to leave his home to find it. He has to grow strong enough to do what has to be done. In the Son of Nobody the titular Son has to journey to the city to meet the princess and while he is away his family is murdered by a group of wandering bandits. Along the way he meets a beggar girl, the princess in disguise, and he allows her to tag along. There are many twists and turns, the Son becomes a noble shinobi protecting the princess and falls in love with the beggar. He finds the bandits that destroyed his home and avenges his family. But! Disaster strikes! The samurai have been told a lie about the princess and feel that their honour must be avenged. A group sneak into the princess’ room one night and defile her. One of the samurai is late to the scene and feeling so sick and ashamed of their actions kills them and ignites a real war between samurai and ninja. The disgraced samurai takes his own life in front of the princess as appeasement. When this doesn’t work the Son goes on to win the war and marry the girl.

this is just hatake sakumo. some creative liberty but its just the story of how he died embellished. i think some shinobi stories filter out and become like folk tales? like we’re gonna get to it. but there's no way they can have that kind of presence and no cultural impact.

‘Heart, liver, eyes ’ Kabuto says when he’s done, ‘and put the rest in the garbage.’

for sensible reasons kabuto is the scary one.

. Illuminated in the light of the lone flickering candle, bundled in odd cloth and grime, Kabuto looks faceless and formless. His skin has no color, his hair is limp, his eyes are turned completely inward searching himself for an some answer, some lodestone for the next leg of his journey. He looks like an orphaned version of himself. Sasuke has a brief moment of complete self-awareness. He stands above himself and looks down at the length of his hair, the uneven tan on his hands. His own eyes look at his boots, his non-descript travelling coat, the way he is never carrying more than enough money to carry him to the next town. He recognises nothing original, nothing remarkable. He’s as interchangeable as any soldier capable of swapping hands at a moment's notice. Many tools, many masks, many uses. He realises that that shifting formlessness is as much a part of him as his burning rage. It forms him just as fully.

i remember having a moment like this and it was so shocking it took me years to write about it. this nearly got cut, even though i now think its important. becoming ‘just a knife’ is important to sasuke’s development towards being just a guy. relating to kabuto is so personally disturbing that its sort of his turn towards leaving giri. kabuto actually disgusts him. unlike orochimaru.

“We called her the Fruit Eater after the foul seeds she planted in others which grew into giant poisonous fruit trees. When they’d plundered and destroyed the world enough for her foul tastes she’d eat the fruit from the trees and crush them to bone and blood under her feet. Her own children plucked out her organs one by one and cut them up into pieces. What they couldn’t eat they threw to the animals who turned into nine ravenous demons. They brought the demons together and sealed them into the form of a beautiful princess who was coveted by all.”

goddamn space aliens. i hate it less than most. i think i was still deciding if they’d show up at the end. either way i thought i’d just put them in in case i did. again, there SHOULD be a cultural footprint.

The problem is that the Uchiha are predisposed to have thick hair and the main branch, the one that descends directly from Madara’s betrayed brother Izuna, comes with a tendency for...unruliness that Sasuke has gotten threefold. At this length it seems to be largely growing up and out, gravity be damned.

aww my loving rendition of his stupid duck butt. i have unruly hair so his maintenance is essentially mine. its such a distinctive thing i think people should take more advantage of. i wrote in crashing tides that he’s just an awful fashionista and i think that holds true. he tries new hair oils ALL THE TIME.

#the author is present #part one part one

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morte-mistrata · 4 years

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The sun sets over the trees, casting golden light on Geralt’s white hair, and the dark black gleam of his leather armor. This time of day is Jaskier’s favorite, (except for when it’s not, like after the rainy season finally breaks into sunshine, or he wakes the morning of a winter’s first snow) but he hardly notices the way that the color drenches the picturesque woodland around them. How could he, when the White Wolf is glaring at the sunset like a dog without his dinner, determinedly ignoring Jaskier’s humming, and looking so impossibly picturesque while he does it?

The image makes Jaskier think of the elves once, and as if his hand were a lodestone, and the lute a magnet, his finger find their way to his new instrument. He’d heard of the Butcher of Blavikan. Everyone had, and more than a few of his fellow bards had made songs of their own from it. No one had been propelled into fame because of it. Tragic songs hardly ever did. But everyone who was anyone had heard of the tale, and it had made Geralt seem like a boogieman, though he was nothing of the sort.

“Stop that.”

Jaskier realizes that he’s been brushing his fingers against the strings, playing half-chords of his newest song mindlessly. He drops his hand to his side, and picks up his pace to walk beside Geralt, instead of near Roach’s flank.

“What, you don’t like it?”

Geralt grunts.

Jaskier is not satisfied.

He brings his fingers to the neck of his lute, and strings out the opening of “Toss a coin”. Geralt’s face is as picturesque and still as a statue’s, impossibly to read. He feels a need to defend his song. “It’ll be sung in every bar you glower yourself into, and you’ll thank me for the women throwing themselves at your feet. My song is-” The music stops abruptly as Geralt grunts again, but this time Jaskier can read the slight twitching of his mouth, and the softening of his glare.

He thinks Jaskier flustering is funny.

“I shouldn’t have asked,,” Jaskier sniffs. “If your clothes are anything to go by, you’ve got no taste to begin with.”

The sun is finally below the treeline, and the golden hour has passed. The light is dimming, and though Jaskier can still see the road ahead, he knows that darkness will fall soon enough. He’s not sure how far they are from the town; it’d felt like it took the whole afternoon to get to Filandravel, but they’d also spent a good portion of the day knocked out and tied up. His inner clock is all sort of messed up, but his stomach isn’t. He’s hungry, and by the time they get back, prime playing hour will likely have passed, and along with it, his chances for dinner. The bread from earlier had fallen from his pants during the altercation earlier, either during, or when they’d been dragged up to his lair, and he’s more than a little rueful about it’s loss.

Jaskier doesn’t want to say anything. He’s pretty sure that Geralt isn’t overly attached to his presence. He’d saved Jaskier’s life earlier (nevermind that Jaskeir got himself into trouble in the first place), but he’s not been what anyone would consider friendly since they’d met. Despite it, Geralt is kind and Jaskier is a fool. Even when he’d thought that he really was the butcher of legend, he’d wanted to speak with him, to be near him. He’s not going to throw that away over a little hunger, or aching feet.

The night birds are coming out now. Jaskier can make out the distant song of a mockingbird, and from somewhere behind them, a nightingale.

“You’re on the road a lot,” Jaskier says, his pace slowing again as he strains to hear the music over the sounds of their traveling. Roach’s hooves crunching against the dirt underfoot, and Geralt’s calm steady breathing add to the noise like instruments to a symphony. “Do you travel much at night?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier decides to take that as a yes. He turns his gaze away from his companion, and focuses on the road ahead. His head is starting to hurt, and along with his stomach hurting, it’s beginning to make him irritable. “What do you like most about it? The birds sound different. The stars inspire poets and plebeians,” Jaskier stresses teasingly. “Alike. I like the moon. It’s the kind of thing that shines over battlefields, glinting over armor and puddles of blood and...” The words trail out. Jaskier has more, but he can’t get them to connect. He thinks of the Ballad of Blaviken again.

Her beauty was squandered under sharpened sword

And as he left, he uttered naught a word

The streets were stained red, bloody like a rose.

And now not to trust a Butcher, everyone knows.

Does he know about those songs, Jaskier wonders. Does he get tired of how people talk about him, and fear and despise him, despite how they cry for his help? He’d promised him earlier today that he would write a song to change that, but it certainly seems hard when confronted with the weight of their fears.

“The stars are making my head hurt.” Jaskier says, as bile rises in his throat. He lurches over, vomit spilling on the side of the road. The sound of Roach’s hooves slows to a stop, though Jaskier hardly notices it against the background of his own sickness.

A hand rests on his shoulder, not holding him up, but with the rigidity to do so if necessary. Jaskier’s legs shake as another wave of nausea rushes over him, spilling his meager lunch thankfully, on the ground away from his shoes.

“He hit your head?”

This is the first time since they were captured that Geralt has strung more than three words together.

Unfortunately, it’s also the first time that jaskier’s unable to respond to it beyond a sickly groan.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, waiting for the last of Jaskier’s retching to abate before dragging him to his feet, not unkindly. “Concussion.”

Jaskier straightens up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “What?”

“Your brain bounces around, and makes you sick.” He leads Jaskier over to Roach, somehow giving Jaskier the illusion that he’s mostly walking on his own, despite the knowledge that he’s so dizzy he can barely see straight, and shoves him in the general direction of the saddle until Jaskier takes the hint and climbs on. “We can either make camp, and see if you sleep it off, or see after a healer.”

Jaskier doesn’t have healer money. He might have, if they’d gotten back to town and he’d played his song, and it wasn’t a failure, but as it is, all he has to his name is the clothes he’s wearing, and his lute. Not enough for a healer. Not even one with a kind streak.

“No healer.” Jaskier manages, sounding very much like a frog more than a bard.

Geralt snorts, but doesn’t comment on it. He boards Roach with the kind of ease that comes with spending a fuck ton of time on a horse, sliding snugly behind Jaskier. He pulls at Roach’s reins, and he picks up speed. The speed makes his head hurt worse, but at least, Jaskier thinks as he leans back against Geralt, as sturdy as a stone wall, he’ll have a story to tell, and a song to sing.

Sometime after that Jaskier falls asleep, only waking when Roach finally comes to a stop, and Geralt pauses above him, hesitation and awkwardness so thick he can taste it in the air.

“I can get down,” Jaskier mumbles, bleary from sleep. His head still hurts, but it’s the dull sort of ache that accompanies a hangover, rather than the sharp overbearing one from earlier. His arms feel oddly heavy and slow, but he’s managed to do more with less. Jaskier lands on his feet, and makes his way over to the nearest tree trunk while Geralt sets to making camp.

Maybe it’s the almost dying thing. Maybe it’s because Geralt is actually a warm-hearted, if somewhat socially stunted person (it explains much more of his actions than the ‘big, bad monster’ stereotype does). Whatever it is, sitting there, and watching Geralt start a fire using a pile of twigs and a flip of his fingers, makes it feel like he’s done this a million times before. Like he’s known Geralt in some lifetime before this.

It’s probably the concussion. Or maybe it’s the dreaminess that all good bards possess. Whatever it is, Jaskier decides, his head hurts too much to question it.

He closes his eyes as the fire begins to crackle, and lets himself fall back asleep.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22850800

#witcher #the witcher #geralt of rivera #geralt #jaskier #geraskier #first chapter #it gets worse #angst galore

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scrappywriting · 5 years

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Laslow has a crush on like, everyone, and he knows it. Selena and Odin sit there listening to him gush about the newest person; they're supportive or vaguely teasing because all of them know it won't last. It never does.

They've been in Nohr for three months exactly. They've been in the service of the Nohrian royal family for thirteen days and twelve hours. In those thirteen days they had met up, sometimes in pairs, sometimes the whole trio, but now was the first time they'd been unsupervised.

Laslow checks nonetheless- Niles is already suspicious-looking, and it's clear that not everyone was happy with three complete strangers being assigned to guard two princes and a princess.

But they must be in the clear because the first thing out of Laslow's mouth is "Lord Xander is amazing!" and it's higher-pitched than normal. Like Laslow is trying to contain his enthusiasm and failing, badly.

"Oh my gods," Selena groans, rolling her eyes in the most exaggerated way. "Laslow, not again!"

"Lord Leo's gone on about Lord Xander," Odin muses from his books. Nohr's library has as many as (present, not Future) Ylisse's. Odin devoured all of them for his theatrics, and simply because he loved to know things. How can he resist an entirely new world with entirely new lore? "The Crown Prince of Nohr. The eldest, most responsible sibling. The genius who excels in nearly everything, and only fails to outpace Lord Leo in magic."

"And he told you this much?"

"No, he told Niles. Lord Leo noticed and asked me to find a lodestone "imbued with the essence of darkness" immediately."

Selena looks at Odin. Laslow looks at Odin, too.

"...and did you?"

"Of course! How could the great Odin Dark fail to acquire a lodestone whose twin soul called out to him? I travelled long and far- buuut that's not the point." Maybe his backtracking has something to do with the look his friends are giving him. "From how Lord Leo spoke of his elder brother, fondly, but with envy dripping off every word, even my dark aura couldn't help being impressed."

"Now that you mention it, Lady Camilla spoke of Xander as well. But Lady Camilla is fond of all her siblings, and most of the castle, too."

"Even you?" Odin teases, and he leans back in his chair as Selena swipes at him.

"Especially me. I'm her favourite retainer." It's been under fourteen days, so who knows if that's true. But Selena seems proud, and then she stops, looking at Laslow expectantly. "What makes Lord Xander is so great, Laslow?"

Laslow's eyes light up. His whole face lights up, and he spends the next thirty minutes telling them.

Camilla hugs him. She hugs everyone, so Laslow's really nothing special. The interaction is only three minutes at most, and a lot of fawning over Selena, not her "handsome little friend" (who she's surely heard all about from Xander, because the siblings are close). Eventually Camilla leaves and tells them to relax while they can, and to take care of themselves.

Selena turns, maybe to apologize for how huggy Camilla was, or maybe to smugly tell Laslow that Camilla really is the best Royal. But his eyes are wide and bright as he stares after Camilla, and all those thoughts scatter. She's seen that look. Odin's seen that look.

He's head over heels with adoration, and it's not even new. But for some reason it makes her embarrassed to think of: Laslow is going to be padding after her, asking her to have tea. Camilla will put up with it, maybe even coo over him.

"Laslow!"

"She's amazing," he breathes, and his voice- catches? in his throat? "I'd seen her training before, but now? Beautiful, caring, strong; you've told me of her threats to enemies, how she adores her allies. She truly is a goddess!"

"I mean, well, yeah. Lady Camilla is something special."

"She truly is! I can see why you adore her-"

Selena's cheeks go as red as her hair. Her voice squeaks, just a little. "Excuse me?"

It's not as sharp as it usually is.

Laslow talks, on and on, about the little things he's noticed from their interaction. About how Camilla really isn’t just a pretty lady; she wields a battleaxe with ease, and her hugs could break bone. (Maybe.)

For some reason, Selena doesn't tell Laslow to be quiet.

Odin calls Laslow to the library, then begs off for some epic quest. That's the only reason Laslow is in the library in the first place- the books Odin's been reading are good, but dense. The view from the windows is nice, though, and it's peaceful enough: occasionally castle staff wanders in and out, sometimes using it as a shortcut between other rooms.

Someone's left a chess board.

Lord Leo appears looking for Odin, then looking a little put out that the astounding Odin Dark has vanished into thin air. He’s undeniably pretty, and Laslow says something he doesn’t remember in the end: about difficult missions and grand adventures, and how Odin will likely be back with some tall tale to excuse the wait. Can he help?

Helping, apparently, is by playing chess.

He isn't terrible at it, but he isn't great, either. They talk as they play but in the end Leo beats him soundly. He thanks Laslow, then excuses himself politely; the assignment he has really cannot wait. Only when his footsteps have well faded and Laslow has put away, then unpacked the chessboard, running his fingers over the pieces, does Odin pop out from behind a bookshelf.

Odin is grinning, wider and smugger than usual. He must have heard everything- and only then does Laslow realize why Odin call him, then fail to appear to his new liege’s summons, even with the promise of some new and exciting adventure.

"You set me up!"

"Indeed! I heard you met Lady Camilla, but Lord Leo is... not quite a people person. But never mind that! What do you think?"

"He's very private and intelligent. Lord Leo plays long games to save as many pieces as possible, while Lord Xander balances time and sacrifices." He pauses to glance at the board, then grins ruefully. "I can't seem to match wits with either of them."

"And you're crushing on both of them! And Lady Camilla!"

"I know!" Laslow covers his face, and his ears go bright red. "I think it's because they're royalty; they're just, different from a normal per...son..."

He stops. Odin's smug grin goes even wider.

"No! I didn't mean it like that! Odin!"

"Remember that time-"

"Odin!!"

EDIT: Well. I posted this on AO3. Right now it’s just an edited version of this draft, but I guess I could edit this post to have some behind-the-scenes / author confirmation stuff with each new chapter? Assuming I don’t hide under a rock and try to forget about this.

I put in the notes of this post that it was supposed to be 10, but things change and I’ll explain why later. Anyway, each chapter is supposed to have 3 crushes, loosely related/connected somehow, and will be posted when I’m either satisfied with them or sick and tired of seeing them.

Chapter/Section 1: Nohr Siblings (Xander, Camilla, Leo)

"I think it's because they're royalty" - Intended as a noodle incident in which Laslow had a crush on any (or all) royal(s) in Ylisse's family. Despite being dorks, FE royalty tends to be good-looking and just "better" than common folk, yeah?

This chapter was the easiest to write, since I didn’t actually commit myself to the story. It’s been mostly done for a while, and just edited a bit since. Once I kind of committed myself to this being a 12-part (4 part?) story, this became the part I was kind of dissatisfied with: not really a “story”, because it wasn’t.

Chapter/Section 2: "Close Acquaintances” (Peri, Corrin, Felicia)

Odin and Laslow are both freaked out by Peri in their supports. I never understood that- they’ve dealt with the loss of their parents, and jumped back in time, and fought in a war they shouldn’t have been born for, and defeated a dragon who was also a god. Peri’s small fry.

I wrote the middle section envisioning Odin misfiring a spell and burning his arms up to his elbows. Magic’s energy, injuries are physical, so he’s totally wiped. If you assumed Laslow helped him to a cot and just threw him facedown, good! (Edit: He’s awfully chatty for someone who’s wiped, and that’s based on my personal experiences with injuries and general illness. Barring sore throats, I sound totally fine up till I conk out. I know it’s not the case for everyone, but Odin seems the type.)

Felicia reminds me a lot of Cynthia, and I imagine Selena would remember how she underestimated Cynthia and could only tie with her in competitions. Also, I believe Selena’s the best at giving people silent treatment until they cave. (Though, it doesn’t work on Beruka or Camilla.)

Chapter/Section 3: ??? (66% 'done’; aiming for March 12, 2019)

Alright, I obviously haven’t managed to update this as intended. Do I have a good reason? Nah. I managed to cut my pinky finger, which doesn’t super affect my typing. If I typed for longer than a few minutes it’d start to feel odd and tingly. But good news; the cut’s finally closed up and the tingling is dying down, so things should be back on track soon!

Further update: Turns out your pinky is actually important to grip strength and there’s minor nerve damage to the tune of “Hm, it’s a little difficult to bend it in a claw stretch”.

Chapter/Section 4: ??? (66% ‘done’; aiming for March 19, 2019)

#Fire Emblem Fates #Unfinished fic #Laslow #Selena #Odin #saved in my files as #Laslow: Puppy Love #basically he crushes on 10 people #over the course of the draft #and his friends make fun of him #and he regrets talking to them every time #FE14

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