So I’ve started following a YouTube channel called ShippersGuideTotheGalaxy and I excitedly posted your Journey into the Past fic as a recommendation on their time travel episode only to watch a previous episode and learn you’ve had one of your Spider-Man fics featured on a previous episode! Amazing! I can’t believe how many days your fics are like gold standard fics, best of the best in the fandom. Great job on newest chp of your current fic too but I already said that in its comments I think-
I remember that! Honestly ShippersGuideTotheGalaxy such a sweet little fandom channel. And fkjrkr thank you for the rec omg
Title: sanji’s a hufflepuff if you disagree meet me in the pit
Word Count: 4,503
Commissioned by @summerotaku
V, for Vinsmoke. That had put him near the end of the line – all of them at the end of the line, actually, and he had waited through the As, the Os, the Qs, waited for Ichiji, for Niji, had ignored Yonji’s not-so-friendly punch on the shoulder as he marched up to that ratty old hat, had sat down, and the hat had barely even touched his scalp before it bellowed:
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
Yonji almost fell out of his seat laughing for maybe the sixth time as that damn word continued echoing in the crevices of Sanji’s mind. It didn’t help that Niji and Yonji alternated belting it out every few seconds. It really didn’t help that the Hufflepuff table was right next to Slytherin’s.
Hufflepuff.
He could have accepted Ravenclaw. Even Gryffindor would’ve been tolerable, despite how angry his dad would’ve been; Gryffindor stood for something. What the heck did Hufflepuff even mean? Why did it have to have ‘puff’ in the name?
“Jeez, all you had t’ do was get that hat to say ‘Slytherin’ and you couldn’t even get that right!”
“Dad’s gonna flip when he finds out! Maybe he’ll pull you outta school…maybe he’ll finally disown you…!”
All around them, students new and old chattered away about the food, the castle, the ghosts, and yet all he could hear were the words pounding against his back. He couldn’t even tell who was saying what. It didn’t matter. Just when he finally proved he wasn’t a complete disappointment, just when he finally showed potential…
“Hey leave him alone, wouldya?”
It took him a little while to realize that that snapped statement was related to him. Only when the pounding words against his back turned into a barrage of, “Stay outta this,” “This is Vinsmoke business,” “Say that again, see what happens,” and when he looked up from his untouched plate, his brothers weren’t looking at him for once. Instead, they were shouting at a nerdy-looking pink-haired boy sitting next to him, who was cringing a bit at the attention but still stubbornly glaring.
Sanji nudged him, hard. “Shut up,” he hissed.
The nerdy kid blinked and whirled his head to face him. “But they’re – ! I’m just – !”
“Please, let me worry about these boys.” Sanji stiffened. That voice wormed down his back, silky smooth as always, like water. Like blades. Reiju smiled at the boy, and with a little hesitation, he nodded meekly and turned back around. (How did she always manage to do that? Was it age? Was it being a girl?)
“Alright you three, turn around and start eating,” Reiju barked, an odd sort of sound that managed to be harsh in a shell of soft. Immediately, each brother swiveled around on the bench and examined their plates with unnatural intensity. And then, she turned to him.
“Sanji,” she said, smiling. “Why don’t you sit with us?”
“But I’m,” Sanji stuttered, glancing to his neighboring students. But no. This was a Vinsmoke matter.
Reiju tilted her head. “I’m sure nobody would mind. We’re family, aren’t we? I’ve got a seat right here.” And, despite the crowded table, she did. She patted the empty space beside her with a metronomic beat.
Sanji left his plate behind. Reiju already had one for him anyways. It was loaded with carefully chosen favorites of his. He sat with his hands on his lap.
“Please don’t tell him,” he whispered, too quiet to be heard. Reiju heard him anyways.
“Oh Sanji, I’m sorry, I don’t have a choice,” she chirruped, mixing up her mashed potatoes with a healthy dose of gravy. “He’ll want to be informed. And don’t you think it’ll be better if I break the news to him rather than him finding out on his own?”
Was it better to break an arm or a leg, he wanted to shoot back, but just imagining his father’s reaction squeezed his stomach until he thought he would barf, and he leaned forward and clapped a hand over his mouth.
Reiju sliced a sausage and bit softly into it. “You won’t have a dinner at all if you don’t eat now.”
He could feel his brothers’ leers, hear their snickers through mouthfuls of food. He picked up a fork and sifted through his plate, pressing hard against the edges of the handle. The people around him all bore the jade green of Slytherin, and though he hadn’t gotten the colored tie and such yet, surely everybody else could tell. Surely there was some sort of yellow emblem nailed to his soul, broadcast to the rest of the table. He was sitting where he was meant to be, and yet he didn’t belong.
But that was nothing new.
His luggage was piled neatly at the foot of his bed, sitting there like a patient dog, and somehow that hurt even more than the Hat. Boys chattered around him about the castle, the halls, the food, the common room, threw open their trunks and clamored for space in closets, on bedside dressers, gaped at the plants hanging from the ceilings, crowded around windows and gazed out at the picturesque scenery of a field (despite being underground).
“Settle down, settle down,” the prefect barked, not unkindly, as Sanji threw off his robes, dumped them on the earthy floor, and threw the covers over his head in an effort to block out all the yellow. But the inside of the quilt was yellow as well.
“It looks like some of us are tired, so let’s all be quiet now...”
He listened as the lights dimmed and the chatter died down and the room settled into a restful quiet. He listened to soft breathing, a homesick whimper, fabric against fabric. He listened all night to anything other than his own mind.
Breakfast was an oddly subdued affair after all the pomp and circumstance of the Sorting Ceremony the night before. In the light of day and under the fog of sleep deprivation, even the Hufflepuff table seemed welcoming. The food, it turned out, was as delicious as everybody had made it out to be, and sitting on the Gryffindor side might have been cowardly, but ultimately much more pleasant. Even when his brothers all sat pointedly in his line of sight, they couldn’t do anything over there but make faces, which Sanji could make right back.
And then, the mail came.
His dad’s owl was easily identifiable, with its large size and stern demeanor that only an eagle-owl could have. It dwarfed pretty much all the other incoming owls, forcing them to open a path in front of it else be bumped aside. And, to Sanji’s surprise, it dove straight for his table and skidded to a stop through several Hufflepuff meals right into his pancakes.
In its syrup-covered talons was a seething red envelope.
If the five-pound bird landing in their breakfast hadn’t alerted the entire table, then Sanji dropping his fork and shooting to his feet definitely would have done it. He moved to snatch the howler away only to burn his fingers – it was already at its exploding point. No, of course it was. The timing of it had probably been all planned out. That’s just the thing he’d do, Sanji thought as he squeezed his eyes shut and the howler burst in a plume of acrid smoke. And then the next thing anybody heard was the amplified voice of Judge Vinsmoke.
“YOU SPINELESS BRAT!” it started, and Sanji covered his ears along with everybody else, not that it helped any. He could feel the voice of his father thrum through his chest, the vibrations rattling his heart so hard that he was afraid it would snap off its tethers and fall to his stomach. “NEVER IN MY LIFE WOULD I HAVE EXPECTED YOU TO BE THIS MUCH OF A DISAPPOINTMENT! A HUFFLEPUFF! YOU ARE A STAIN ON OUR BLOODLINE!” Just across the aisle at the Slytherin table, Sanji saw Reiju catch his eye and smile brightly back at him. She would have waved if her hands weren’t busy covering her own ears. “THIS IS UNPRECEDENTED IN THE HISTORY OF THE VINSMOKE FAMILY! CONSIDER YOURSELF – “
The vitriol cut off quite suddenly on account of the howler bursting into flames, which was fairly typical for a howler, but not in the middle of the message. Sanji blinked as the ashes drifted down, sprinkling the scrambled eggs, then looked back up to see someone standing on the bench across from him with a wand extended.
The first thing Sanji noticed was the green tie (rather, the green untie) hanging around the boy’s neck. The second thing he noticed was the telltale signs of an incendiary spell just about snuffing out at the end of his wand. In the absence of the howler’s voice, the Great Hall felt like a vacuum of noise.
“Fifteen points from Slytherin,” the headmaster called from the faculty table.
That snapped the school out of its trance. The Slytherin boy spun towards the end of the hall. “What! What for?!”
“The use of magic outside of class without supervision,” the headmaster replied.
“Oh. Yeah, guess I did that.” The boy’s laugh was much too loud and carefree for someone who had just gotten a penalty, and the Slytherins seemed to agree, given how many of them were glaring at him.
“I’ll take off another five for your tie if you don’t sit down.”
The boy hit the bench with a thunk, squished between two Hufflepuffs who hadn’t quite expected a new neighbor. Sanji found himself sitting back down as well, ducking under his father’s owl as it scratched at the table with irritation. He could see the boy collecting someone’s upturned plate and starting to scoop scattered bacon onto it. And though this couldn’t have been what the headmaster meant, there were no further objections from that end of the hall and breakfast continued on.
“Why’d you do that,” Sanji demanded while the boy poked at the eagle-owl and flicked little bits of bacon at it, whooping when it caught them out of the air. When the boy stared blankly at him, he added, “Burning up my letter!”
“It was loud. And annoying.”
“It was private.” His fingernails dug into the wood of the table until they stung with stress. “A family matter.”
The boy’s face scrunched up with distaste. “It was a loud and annoying private family matter. I’m Luffy.”
“That’s still – “ Sanji said before registering the greasy hand held out towards him. Through shock and instinct, he grabbed it – then yanked his hand back, smacking the person sitting next to him in the jaw. “Holy – that’s disgusting! Have you ever washed your hands?!” Sanji almost wiped the thin film of grease off on his shirt, caught himself, and then wiped it off on the kid he just smacked.
Luffy gave him an odd look, ran his hand against his tongue once, and then held it out again. “What’s your name?”
And to this filthy, uncouth, oblivious kid, the answer just...easily slipped out. And, goddammit, what the hell, he shook his hand.
“Hey Sanji! There you are!”
Sanji instinctively flinched, but relaxed his shoulders when Luffy slid onto the seat across from him, followed closely by another kid still in his robes despite it being the breaktime between classes. “This’s Sanji,” Luffy told him, gesturing with a wide arm like Sanji was a monument instead of an eleven-year-old kid. “Sanji, this is my best friend Usopp!”
Sanji nodded at the nose-kid, looked back to Luffy, then did a double take back to the nose-kid, or rather, the nose-kid’s noticeably red tie. “You’re friends with him?” he blurted, not really knowing who he was directing this to.
Apparently, Luffy decided it was directed towards him. “Yeah? So?”
“A Slytherin and a Gryffindor?” But Luffy just started digging in his ear. Sanji looked to Usopp for any sort of affirmation that this was really weird, and Usopp just shrugged.
“My dad knows one of his dad’s friends,” he said, waving a hand. “We’ve been friends for ages.”
“Yup!” Luffy chimed in, his wide smile offset by his finger now being in his nose.
Sanji stared at Luffy, then leaned towards Usopp. “So…did the Hat make a mistake or…?”
“Selfish, stubborn, doesn’t care about rules, doesn’t stop until he gets what he wants,” Usopp counted off, and then leaned his chin into his hand and sighed. “That’s pretty much him.”
“Yup!”
Sanji looked back and forth between them. “That’s not how best friends should – I mean, best friends don’t talk about each other like that,” Sanji squirmed and ducked his head as Luffy and Usopp’s stares seemed to only intensify. “...I think…?”
“’You think,’” Usopp repeated, his tone flat with disbelief.
Sanji’s fingers knotted together, twisted, pulled, and he wondered if he should say anything even as he was in the middle of saying it. “I don’t, I never really had, best friends.” Every word kept getting softer as he went along until Usopp and Luffy both were leaning over the table to even hear what he was saying. “Or,” he mumbled, “friends, even.”
“But we’re best friends.”
Sanji looked up to snap an annoyed, ‘Yeah, I know,’ only to see Luffy looking straight at him and oh, oh.
“We just met,” Sanji spluttered, leaning back, away from that earnestly serious face. “And you said Usopp’s your best friend, you can’t have two best friends, that’s not what ‘best’ means!”
Luffy scowled. “We’re. Best. Friends.”
Sanji was starting to see what Usopp meant. It was weirdly intense. It was kinda nice. It was a little scary.
Usopp gave him a wry smile and patted his hand with sympathy.
On Wednesdays, after lunch, Hufflepuff had Charms with Slytherin. It was a mixed bag. Or, perhaps, Pandora’s Box – too many negatives and only one positive.
Approaching the classroom, Sanji let out his breath when he saw Luffy by the door, cheerful as ever, chatting someone’s ear off. But. Even though that someone’s back was towards him, Sanji could very clearly see it was Yonji, and lunch suddenly felt like a cannonball in his guts.
They were in the same house, of course. They were in the same year. It would have been inevitable. And yet, and yet, he didn’t want to lose this, couldn’t lose this, he couldn’t let Yonji say anything, and so Sanji marched up, spun Yonji around by the shoulder, shouted, “Go away!” and promptly realized that.
This. Wasn’t Yonji.
The boy who wasn’t Yonji looked, in fact, entirely different from Yonji, besides the hair color. Although, he also looked like a dull idiot with no business being around Luffy. Also, he looked a bit pissed off.
“You go away,” not-Yonji spat back.
“Hey Sanji! This’s Zoro! He’s like my best friend.” And that hurt a little more than Sanji liked to admit, but then Luffy turned around and added, “That’s Sanji, he’s my best friend.” And that affected him much more than Sanji liked to even acknowledge. He ignored Zoro for now.
“Hey, we’re probably gonna have to pick partners in class, so...”
“Aw, bro! You were waiting for us?”
Oh. Right.
Ichiji spared a glance before walking right in, but Niji and Yonji leaned on each of his shoulders with all of their weight. Their grins flanked him and he couldn’t help but freeze.
“Oh! It’s the Sanji clones!” Luffy said with a grin. And the confirmation that Luffy had definitely met his brothers before, had definitely talked to them before, made him want to puke.
“We already told you our names!” Yonji snapped back. “It’s not even that hard to remember!”
“They don’t even look the same,” Zoro added, gesturing vaguely at the three of them with exasperation.
Niji leaned on Sanji even harder. “So, how ‘bout we partner up today? I’m sure Charms’ll be way better with family, right?”
Sanji shook both of them off and spun around, fists clenched. Not that he was allowed to raise them. Not like they could do anything. “Actually,” he said through gritted teeth, “I was asking Luffy if we could be partners.”
“I already asked him,” Zoro said, who was now officially the worst person in the world.
“Let’s all be partners!”
“That’s not how partners work.”
“You don’t wanna be partners with Sanji anyways,” Yonji cut in, and Zoro and Luffy looked up from their interrupted conversation quizzically. Yonji’s smile turned into a sneer. “Y’know, since he’s – “
Sanji slammed into Yonji and wrung the front of his robes with his fist, almost wound his other one up for a real, actual punch – but class was starting and the professor was visible behind his lectern and Sanji just let go and mumbled, “I’ll just sit with Yonji.”
“We can still sit near each other,” Luffy said as Sanji filed into place beside his brothers, who nudged him side to side and cackled all the way to their seats.
“...at the same time, swish and flick – yes...?” the professor called out, seeing Ichiji’s hand shoot up.
Sanji couldn’t see his face – Ichiji had taken the seat right in front of him – but he could see the languid way he leaned on his elbow as he drawled, “Do we really have to do all this simple stuff first, sir?”
The professor paused, glanced around the classroom. “Well...this is simply how the curriculum goes. We start with the basics.”
“I understand, sir. But,” Ichiji added, and he had to be sneering because Sanji could hear it, “who here doesn’t know the basics?”
Sanji’s quill almost snapped with the force he pushed on it. His brothers on either side of him suddenly felt too close, and closing in. His breathing was loud, much too loud, the professor had to be able to hear it, but instead he frowned slightly and replied, “It may be simple to you, sonny, but not everybody has the same experience. My job is to make sure that everybody’s up to speed, and yes, that includes ‘the basics.’ Now if that’s all cleared up, why don’t we – “
“I guess you’re right, sir,” Ichiji said, and then he finally turned around and looked Sanji straight in the eyes. “Not everybody would know the basics. Especially muggles and Squi – “
Sanji shot to his feet, chair clattering to the floor, wand pointed straight at Ichiji’s forehead. The girl sitting next to him flinched away, glancing back and forth between them. The professor spluttered, his own wand halfway raised, and he managed a flustered, high-pitched, “Boys!”
Ichiji smiled. Bared his teeth.
“Can you even do anything with that? Since you’re a Squ – “
“Sectumsempra!”
He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel, or what was supposed to happen. It seemed like he ought to feel something. A well of power pulsing forth. Something focused into his hand and funneled out.
All that happened was a brief flash.
“ - ib,” Ichiji finished.
Sanji couldn’t move. He stood with his arm outstretched, pointing an unloaded gun, and he could hear the whispering start around him, and he wished that if he just didn’t move, everybody would go back to not knowing his existence, he wished that every step that led him here, to this moment, had never existed, all the way back to his own miserable birth.
“A squib?” “Can he really be one?” “How did he get in?”
“Children, children,” the professor bellowed desperately, waving his hands downward like he was trying to push down the noise.
Ichiji leaned back against his desk, languid eyes taking in the class. “Can you even learn anything here? I mean, what’s the point of a wizard who can’t do magic?”
“I can,” Sanji mumbled back.
“Cut it out,” the Slytherin girl next to Ichiji hissed, shoving him in the shoulder. He showed no notice.
“You did one levitating spell. Or didja do any others while I wasn’t looking?”
Sanji’s arm fell a fraction of an inch. He couldn’t look up anymore. The whispering continued despite the professor’s efforts, but all of it sounded washed out.
“Face it,” Ichiji continued, shrugging off the Slytherin girl’s more insistent shove. “You don’t even belong here.”
And then, who knew how, Luffy was suddenly pushing by Sanji, vaulting over his desk, and he punched Ichiji hard enough to knock him out of his seat.
“A-an, and, the things he said…! Oh professor, it was so vile, he threatened him…! Any kid would raise their wand in defense, oh, just remembering it…!”
It was just after class, Sanji, Ichiji and Luffy standing in a contrite line in front of the professor while the Slytherin girl suddenly wept into her hands.
Ichiji scowled at her. “I didn’t say that stuff.”
The professor turned to Sanji, and he shuffled under that stare, mumbled nonsense words.
“Sanji,” Ichiji said. “Tell him.”
“Oh, professor! That was the exact tone he used!”
“No threats please,” the professor said wearily, then rubbed his forehead. “Even if we call it self-defense Sanji, you still clearly attempted the Slashing Curse on another student.”
Sanji stared down at his shoes. “I, I didn’t…”
“He didn’t know what it would do, professor! Why, I’ve heard others say incantations and not know what they did! And nothing happened, right? So please, sir, couldn’t you overlook this? Please?”
“Even so – “
“Please?” Her hands were clasped together as she pouted, standing on her toes to push her doe-eyed face that much closer into the professor’s. The professor leaned back, seeming to have trouble averting his eyes.
“I can understand your position,” he said, “but,”
And Sanji blinked and all of a sudden he was being led out by the girl and into the hallways. She cried out a tearfully grateful “Thank you, sir!” right before shutting the door behind her; and as soon as it slid into place, she let go of Sanji’s hand and turned around, eyes somehow not red or puffy at all, her expression somehow wiped clean of anything sentimental. “You owe me.”
Sanji blinked. His brain was slowly catching up. “Huh?” but the girl was already turning to someone (Zoro, his mind supplied) leaning against the wall beside the door. “Told you I could.”
Zoro scowled as he reached for a pouch tied to his belt, but shot back, “The bet was to get Luffy out.”
“No, your phrasing was ‘to get them out.’ Never said who. Or what,” she added, flipping a galleon that Sanji hadn’t noticed was in her hand and catching it out of the air. “Pay up, Roronoa.”
Zoro grumbled and slammed several coins into her waiting hand and she smiled back before turning to Sanji again. “You okay?”
Now that she was looking at him with that beautiful concern in her eyes, he sure was. Sanji’s heart twisted. “Thanks.”
But she only waved him off. “Nah, my pleasure. That guy’s a real jerk. I mean, he wasted part of my tuition pulling that stunt! Honestly.”
“So are you really a Squi – “
The girl punched Zoro in the arm, hard enough for him to have to take a step away. “Geez! I’m only asking!”
“Well don’t,” she shot back. “There’s something called tact, idiot – “
“Maybe I am,” Sanji mumbled, and yet the two Slytherins stopped and looked towards him. “I should be able to cast spells by now, right? Everybody else can. But...”
It took almost ten years for anything remotely magical to happen around him. And even then all that happened was a levitating spoon. But maybe that was a fluke. Maybe someone else had done it. Maybe he would have to be kicked out of school, kicked out of his home, live a muggle life while knowing everything he was missing out on. Maybe…
Zoro sighed. “Who cares? You’ll learn how. We’re all learning. That’s what schools are for."
Sanji stared. The girl slowly set a hand on Zoro’s shoulder. “Wow, guess even you can be insightful sometimes, huh?” Zoro immediately threw off her hand as she started to laugh and barked something out that sounded like a mix between ‘shut up’ and ‘what’s that supposed to mean,’ which ended up sounding like ‘shut’s that up…mean?’
The girl laughed even harder, which just flustered Zoro all the more, and, well, Sanji laughed too, a mixture of amusement and pure relief.
Someone tapped his shoulder from behind. “Hey Sanji,” said Usopp, walking up next to him and giving the two Slytherins a wary glance. “Where’s Luffy?”
“Getting detention for punching someone,” Zoro said, and while Usopp startled at the intrusion, he still shook his head.
“That took longer than I thought, honestly...who’s the guy who deserved the punch and why?”
Zoro gestured towards Sanji. “Well this guy – ow, hey!”
Usopp looked between the girl punching Zoro repeatedly and Sanji and back again. “Uh. You don’t have to tell me if it’s personal...”
Sanji opened his mouth. He did not say, “I’m basically a Squib.” Instead, he clicked his mouth shut and shook his head.
Usopp nodded pensively. Something in his face shifted. And then he smiled and said, “Y’know, if anybody gives you trouble, Luffy’s a good guy to have, but you can tell me too. Just tell them my name, even; after all, I’ve been the number one duelist since I was three. Just the sound of my voice is enough to send adults to their knees in fear!”
“Liar,” Sanji said, but he laughed appreciatively.
“No joke, it’s true! And – “
The classroom door opened. It wasn’t Luffy.
Sanji stepped backwards when Ichiji strode out with a stormy expression, but suddenly his view was slightly obscured. The two Slytherins had slid in front of him, side to side, like a wall. Usopp had also stepped back along with him, had the same expression that Sanji felt, but the way he reached out and held his hand, rubbed his thumb against Sanji’s palm like a constant reminder, was just as powerful, and Sanji was suddenly struck by the realization that, he had laughed. With others. Twice, even. And maybe school was the best thing to happen to him.
Ichiji had moved for Sanji before Zoro and the girl stepped in between. He glanced at all of them, made a loud, disinterested sound, and pushed past them down the hall.
Sanji let out a breath.
“It wasn’t any of your business,” Sanji said when Luffy finally left the Charms classroom an hour after class was over. Ichiji had gotten detention, which was satisfying in a nasty way. Luffy had gotten a longer detention.
Luffy just snorted as the group wound their way through the halls, bumping against each other congenially. “He was really pissing me off. And don’t say ‘it’s a family matter’ or whatever because – “
“Thanks,” said Sanji, “for making it your business.”
Luffy blinked, stared. And then broke into a smile that was almost blinding in its sincerity.
Prompt: Clint Barton playing Pokemon Go or some other inspired ARG to ridiculous or impressive results.
It wasn’t like Clint had planned on getting addicted to the game. He thought it would be fun to download it and check it every once in a while when he was on a mission and board out of his mind. (he could keep track of his target and check for Pokemon at the same time, shut up Phil)
But now, Clint was a week into the game and at level 25, had all but three pokemon, and a ridiculous amount of ‘steps’ that no one could really catch up to. (seriously, he forgot to turn his phone off once when him and Tasha had to run away from danger. the fact that they were going for like 23 km was amazing, espeshally for all those eggs he hatched.)
Showing his progress to others was the most amazing feeling. all the other agents who played usually ended up jelouse or upset with him for playing on work time. He’d even gotten a talking to from Nick about his obsession with playing during work, but he hadn’t messed up a mission yet due to the game so he was just given a warning and told to keep his eyes on the mission no matter what.
the best part of that talk, was probably the fact that Clint had managed to convince Nick to download the game. Now Nick, Clint and Melinda all had the game and even though Nick had started three days later he was catching up really fast for a man who didn’t go on as many missions as Clint and Melinda. (Clint was pretty sure Nick had convinced Phil to download the game and play on missions under Nick’s account, but he had no proof yet)
Now, well now Clint was laying on top of a random apartment building in Glasgow waiting for his target to arrive in his office and shut the door so he could take his shot. He didn’t even think about it when his phone buzzed, alerting him to the arrival of a pokemon.
Keeping one eye on the building, Clint pulled his phone out of his pocket and smiled when he saw the pokemon in question. “Sweet, i still need Mr. Mime.”
When he got back to base with his phone in hand and his target dead, Clint smiled triumphantly and showed his phone to Phil. “You should tell Nick that i’ve only got two more to catch before my pokedex is complete.”
Phil ignored him for a moment, going over something on the computer as he reached over and picked up his own phone to show Clint the pokedex on his screen. “Nick has one.”
“You....” Clint huffed in annoyance. Hand it to Nick to actually use his boyfriend to help him catch pokemon.
Title: oops, sanji basically isn’t in this fic until the end, on account of being a sword
Word Count: 3,837
Commissioned by @summerotaku
Sanji clattered to the floor, and the fact that Zoro could use the word ‘clattered’ to describe the sound already said way too many things, none of them good.
It was on the rebound that Brook, fast as ever, caught Sanji by the, by the hilt before he could hit the floor again, and fuck, there it was, Sanji had a hilt, because all of a sudden, Sanji was a sword. There was a second sound, a tiny ting and subsequent circular roll of the ring that Sanji had tried on when he had last had fingers, and by the time it rattled onto its side with an air of finality, Zoro had Wado out and pointed at the shopkeeper.
Sanji would have protested this if he still had a mouth, but genders seemed especially irrelevant at this point considering Sanji had just turned into a sword. The only thing saving the middle-aged woman behind the counter was that she looked just as confused as he felt, at least, before she found herself at the end of a katana.
Luffy had no such compunction or perception. He was on the counter in a second, and the next second, the shopkeeper’s legs were dangling slightly above it as well. “I don’t know, I don’t know,” she said before Luffy could even demand anything. “I swear, I didn’t know that would happen!”
“This is a pawn shop, Luffy,” came Robin’s much calmer voice, and Zoro bit back the instinct to remind her that Sanji was a sword. “She had no hand in the creation of this ring.”
“Hey,” Zoro cautioned, seeing the ring that turned Sanji into a sword in her hand, but given that Robin was doing a lack of turning into a sword, anything else he had to say simply died in his mouth. Instead, Robin glanced at him with a Look, and he lowered Wado in a way that was certainly not sheepish, was the furthest from sheepish as possible.
“Excuse me,” she directed to the shopkeeper, as though she wasn’t currently being held maybe a foot above the countertop, “do you happen to remember who sold you this particular item?”
The shopkeeper shook her head as best as she could in her position, but added, “A, a, it was a m-merchant, from another island,”
Robin pressed her lips tight for a second. “Unfortunate. Do you at least know what this inscription on the ring means?”
The shopkeeper did the same approximation of shaking her head.
“I wouldn’t be too hard on him,” Robin replied, smiling as she held up the offending jewelry between her fingers. “The inscription was on the inside. A bit hard to take notice of, I would think. In any case, although it would have been rather serendipitous to have the answer given to us, I already have a few ideas on how to go about translating this script, and I’m certain we will glean the necessary information once I can determine the meaning.” And, as an afterthought, “You can put her down now, Luffy.”
Luffy grunted, but the slight ‘oof’ a few seconds later indicated that he complied. “Let’s go find that merchant and kick his ass, then!”
“We don’t know what they look like,” Robin gently reminded him, and, showing a great amount of compassion for the shopkeeper, added, “and we wouldn’t likely find them even with all the details our friend could give,” before Luffy could spin around and pull her back up again. “Perhaps we should go back and inform the others of Sanji’s current condition, and then I can get started immediately on deciphering this language.”
“Um,” said Brook as Luffy jumped down and Zoro filed in behind him. “Excuse me,” he added, still crouching near the floor in the position that he had caught Sanji in. “I don’t mean to be rude, but...Sanji-san is a little heavy.”
Zoro was the one who ended up holding the blade. Sanji. The blade that was Sanji. It was a little awkward, not because this was technically Sanji, but because Sanji didn’t come conveniently with a sheath and so he was forced to just hold him openly around the town while they walked back to the Sunny. This wasn’t exactly viewed well by the locals. Though maybe word of Luffy threatening the owner of the pawn shop spread around. Or maybe it was because they were pirates.
With the distance of time and the assurance that Robin would solve everything (as she always does), Luffy had shed that dangerous demeanor and was now circling around Zoro, prodding at Sanji any chance he got. “He looks real cool, though! Is he a good sword?”
Though Sanji was an absolute asshole of a human, he definitely made a beautiful sword. Black blade with the hilt wrapped in dark blue, covered in gold decorations. The weight of him was balanced. The blade clean and polished. Zoro made a few practice stabs (sending a few of the watching locals into conniptions) and could feel the air itself part.
“Eh, not my type.”
“Sanji-san I believe is an estoc, a sword used for stabbing, such as mine,” Brook explained, slowing his stride until he was beside them. “Zoro-san uses katana, which are for slicing.”
Luffy nodded, a finger dug in his nose, and then said, “So which part’s his butt?”
It took a great amount of fortitude for Zoro to not drop Sanji right then and there.
“...You’re joking.” Nami’s voice was flat. Not with denial or disbelief, but with the lack of any sort of opinion whatsoever.
This was not exactly the response Zoro expected, but upon reflection, he would have probably reacted the same way if he hadn’t actually seen it happen. Still, even Chopper’s scream of “WHAT?? REALLY?!” had an edge of skepticism to it, and given the things Usopp fed to him on a daily basis, that was saying something.
Zoro kept Sanji held out, blade to the side. He hadn’t figured out which way was right-side-up and this seemed the best compromise to make.
“You could try the ring on and see for yourself,” Robin said, and Nami and Usopp took a large step back. Chopper and Franky, the two literally unable to put any ring on, cursed or not, leaned forward.
“You sure it’s even him? I mean...maybe someone replaced our bro with a sword to make you think – “
“I witnessed the whole event. If you want, I could describe exactly how his form twisted itself into the one you see before you now before he could even call for help.”
Franky grimaced and joined Nami and Usopp. “No thanks.”
“He went all flat! And changed colors!” Luffy slapped his palms together and then waggled his fingers in the air, which didn’t in any way represent the act of changing color but got the idea across somehow. “And – “
Nami covered Luffy’s mouth. Usopp covered his own ears. Franky just sighed. “Well, at least it wasn’t detailed...”
“Nope. Too late,” Usopp moaned, sinking to the deck. “I’m imagining it already. Ohhhhh god, this is worse, this is definitely worse than if Robin told me.”
“I could still describe it.”
“No,” said Usopp, and then he curled up and buried his face into the grass.
Chopper stood on the tips of his hooves to examine Sanji and Zoro complied and lowered him a little. “Do you think it hurts? Can he feel anything? Does he need to breathe?” At some point, a stethoscope had appeared around his neck and he was holding the end of it up now, hovering hesitantly around the sleek black metal.
Zoro shrugged. “Swords don’t have lungs.” And with that, he swung Sanji up to toss him over to Franky, thought better of it, and just held him out. “Hey. Make a sheath for him or something. I’m gonna sleep.”
“Now?” Nami said, then screeched when Luffy, tired of being muted, licked her hand.
“I shall let you know when I have finished,” Robin promised, but as soon as Franky had plucked Sanji up between two trepidatious fingers, Zoro was already halfway passed out.
When Zoro woke up, it was noon.
It took him a moment to figure out why he just suddenly woke up (when usually it would take a goddamn hurricane before he would even stir) but it was noon, and it was lunchtime, and Sanji hadn’t kicked him awake yet.
Not that he could, at the moment. But still, unnerving. Also, was someone going to make lunch?
There were definitely sounds in the kitchen, but the sounds seemed to be Luffy-related and that was enough to wake Zoro the rest of the way up and propel him straight into the one place Luffy had no business being.
On the bright side, Luffy wasn’t raiding the pantry with the cat away (turned into a sword). But there was currently a large hunk of frozen meat out, and the aforementioned cat-sword in Luffy’s hand, edge digging into the meat. And apparently Zoro wasn’t actually all the way awake because he was even more awake now, would maybe never be not awake ever again, and he pulled Luffy away and Sanji out of the pork and everybody out of the kitchen.
“Luffy,” said Zoro, after examining the blade for scratches or even cracks (how would that translate if he turned back then and there?), “what the fuck.”
“It’s lunch,” Luffy whined. “Sanji needs to cook.”
Zoro found himself sputtering before he managed an incredulous, “He can’t? He’s a sword?” As if anybody needed reminding.
“But he’s still Sanji, and Sanji’s a cook, and also swords can cut meat, so I figure if he helped then it’d be basically the same.”
There were too many things to tackle. Zoro settled for, “He doesn’t cut.”
Luffy blinked. “He’s a sword,” he said, like Zoro was the idiot. Zoro hit him with Sanji’s hilt and then realized that maybe that wasn’t something he should do. But then again, Sanji probably wanted to hit him, so call it a favor.
“I told you, he’s made for stabbing. Look,” Zoro said, wrapping a hand around the blade and squeezing lightly. “His edges are dull. Like him.”
Luffy’s face opened up with a brilliant awe and instantly his rubber hands were all over Sanji’s blade too, and now Sanji was being swung around and maybe Zoro just made things worse. Luffy laughed. “Hey, what if people used swords like this instead?” He explained what ‘this’ meant by swinging Sanji’s hilt like a mace and hitting Zoro right on his head and yeah, Sanji would have probably done that himself too if he could.
After a quick discussion, Luffy was banned from being alone with Sanji.
“It’s not a curse.”
Everybody stared at Robin, and then down at Sanji, lying in the middle of the dinner table. He glinted sadly, assuming swords could look sad. “He looks pretty fuckin’ cursed to me,” said Franky.
“It’s more of a lesson,” Robin continued, setting down a notebook with a bunch of writing that Zoro couldn’t understand. Courteously, Robin added, “Whoever wears the ring is turned into the part they most despise about themselves. The only way to turn them back is for them to accept that part.”
“He’s a sword,” Usopp said blankly. It was an increasingly common phrase on the ship. “What’s he gonna accept.”
“Also, why a sword? I’d get it if the curse turned him into something he hated about someone else – “ all eyes glanced at Zoro for a second, “ – but…how is Sanji-kun a sword?”
Robin hesitated, and that was enough to put everybody on edge. “It’s...not a perfect translation. Language is not interchangeable, and certain languages have words for concepts we cannot easily name. ‘Accept,’ for instance, does not exactly encapsulate what the word means, but I’m finding it difficult to describe otherwise. In any case, it appears to me that all we can do is set sail and wait.”
Luffy crossed his arms and gave an elongated hurm. Then, suddenly, he scooped Sanji up by the hilt and glared into his own reflection in the blade. “Hey! Sanji! You’re a sword! Deal with it!”
There was a brief hush, just in case Luffy’s will was enough to fix even this particular problem. When Sanji remained a sword, Brook offered, “Perhaps we should simply give him time to, ah...think.”
“All he’s good for right now,” Zoro muttered.
Usopp pushed his chair back and sighed. “I guess I’ll cook for now, then.”
Luffy nodded authoritatively. “Alright. Sanji, you go rest,” he ordered, and then tossed him lightly towards the couch and missed, hitting the wall and then the floor.
Luffy was banned from handling Sanji.
A few days in, Franky crafted an ornate stand to prop Sanji against. As they all admired the way he stood by the corner of the dining room, Usopp suddenly sniggered, doubling over from the weight of whatever joke he thought of.
To Sanji, he finally managed to say, “Nice rack,” before going back to immature giggling.
Franky was the only one left scowling. “It’s not a rack, bro!” he said indignantly.
“How do you properly care for a sword?” Chopper asked. Zoro paused in the middle of his new daily ritual of drinking right in front of Sanji in case he could still see things.
“He’s gonna change back.”
“But until then, I wanna know how to take care of him! Is there a specific temperature that’s best to keep him in? What do I do if he starts to rust? Is it unhealthy for a sword to not be sharp – “
Zoro moved to pat Chopper on the head, but ended up lightly bopping him with the bottom of his sake instead. He rolled with it and patted Chopper a few more times. “We’re not gonna turn into swords on a regular basis. Don’t worry about it. I can – “ Zoro thought for a moment. “Brook can take care of him.”
The next island was hospitable and had a lack of cursed items, which was a major plus.
“You think I could sell – “
Usopp snatched the ring out of Nami’s hand, careful that none of his fingers slipped through it. “No! We’re not turning people into swords! Why do we still have this?!”
Nami pouted, but didn’t move to snatch the ring back. Though she certainly could have. “C’mon, it’s such a waste! And after all this trouble this thing caused us, why not get some compensation?”
“No,” Usopp repeated, moving to throw it overboard.
“Careful, a fish might eat it and get caught by a fisherman.”
Usopp froze. Made a strangled groan. Threw it against the deck instead, where Nami caught it on the rebound. “This is awful. You’re awful.”
“They’re not gonna turn into swords,” Zoro pointed out as Nami pocketed the ring with too much cheerfulness. “Maybe they’ll turn into something that can actually move. Maybe the cook’s just weird.”
“Maybe,” Usopp mumbled, though his conscience was clearly still in conflict.
“Y’know...”
Zoro and Usopp jumped and turned towards Nami, who hadn’t just run off to the nearest pawn shop as expected. She twirled the ring around between her fingers in a slow, morose way. “I’m kinda...getting used to him like that.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Usopp said after a much-too-long pause. “Go sell that thing already. It’s giving me a headache.”
“It’s a He’ll-Die-If-You-Don’t-Sell-It Disease,” Zoro supplied.
“Yeah, I’ll – hey!”
If anything brought Sanji’s absence into sharp relief (besides mealtimes), it was ambushes. Turns out the Flying Fish Riders (or whatever their names were now) weren’t the only ones with the idea to ride flying fish.
They were pretty damn strategic about it, dropping all of a sudden on specific places of the ship, arriving much too fast to really shoot them down or even notice them, trying to catch everybody unprepared. Which, jokes on them, really. One of them didn’t even land before sprouting a bevy of arms, and certainly didn’t land on his feet after that.
There were no flashes of passionate fire. No string of curses or trail of smoke. Zoro absolutely wasn’t watching out for any of that, of course, just noticing something missing here and there. Instead, there was a man bursting out of the dining room (snuck in from the second floor?) with a blade that Zoro almost didn’t recognize in the hands of a stranger.
By the time Zoro realized, he had already parried the swing and he winced at the impact, fucking relented, and there went Shusui. The second swing he saw coming and he hurriedly spat Wado into his free hand, but he couldn’t stop the current of his thoughts, what if he breaks, what if he breaks, and Sandai Kitetsu abandoned him next, humming with displeasure. The third swing came, only to be stopped by a hand that grew out of the man’s arm like a fungus, more arms spiraling out and twisting the arm until the man screamed and let Sanji go, momentum carrying him up and Robin didn’t quite make the catch, Zoro saw someone behind her and yelled out a warning while reaching up to catch Sanji at the same time, hilt falling neatly into the groove of his palm, and when he looked back down from the sky he saw Sandai Kitetsu again, except at the wrong end, every owner ends up dead by its blade, and it was pure instinct that had him wind up his arm and stab,
Zoro was holding Sanji by his hand. His very, not-hilt hand. Sanji stood, back to him, and Zoro would have let go immediately if it weren’t for the way that hand shook, and when Zoro trailed up that arm and down the other, he saw it piercing straight through the man he had just stabbed.
There was blood dripping down Sanji’s arm, soaking his suit. It was hard to tell, but judging by the way that his arm was about elbow-deep in the body, his hand was probably jutting out the other side.
A harsh breath caught Zoro’s attention and he glanced up to see if it was Sanji, but it was actually the impaled man, who gave another rattling breath, stared straight down at the two of them, and then slumped, forcing Sanji to his knees.
It seemed like the fight was over. Dimly, Zoro could hear someone say, “Sanji?” So did Sanji, evidently, because he let out a breath and said, in that voice that hadn’t been heard in what felt like forever, “Someone get this fucking filthy piece of shit off of my goddamn arm.”
Was he okay? Did he hurt anywhere? Did he feel stiff? Was he hungry? Thirsty? Was he aware of what was going on?
“I’m fucking fine,” said Sanji, lighting up three cigarettes at once, or at least, trying to. His hands kept shaking.
He fucking wasn’t, obviously, but now didn’t seem like the time to shake some goddamn healthy communication into him. Chopper snatched all three cigarettes out of his mouth and ordered everybody out of the infirmary. But just an hour later, Sanji was released, now smoking five cigarettes at once, slouching in that usual arrogant way, kneeing Usopp for the “nice rack” joke (which answered at least one question).
He didn’t cook lunch. Or dinner.
Sanji’s hands weren’t shaking, Zoro noted when he climbed into the crow’s nest. But they kept opening and closing, leaving angry crescents in his palms. “My shift,” Sanji said tonelessly.
Might as well jump right in.
“Sorry,” said Zoro, and the look on Sanji’s face might have almost been insulting if it had been someone who wasn’t already insulting on a daily basis. Zoro took a breath. “For, using you. Like that.”
“Apology fucking not accepted, asshole.”
Zoro closed his eyes and sighed through his nose for a good three seconds. No, he was here to be, contrite. For once. “Fair.” Sanji’s look wasn’t quite as insulting, but certainly was suspicious. Zoro allowed himself to be scrutinized. “I’m the one who killed him, y’know.”
Sanji snorted. “Fucking duh. I didn’t fucking stab myself into him.”
Okay, now that was a loop he was just thrown for. “You know?”
“Yes, marimo. I understand the basic concept of autonomy.” Sanji rolled his eyes and blew smoke rings in his direction.
“Then why the hell’re you moping!”
“None of your fucking business.”
Zoro squinted. “Is it something to do with that acceptance thing Robin talked about?”
“Drop it,” Sanji snarled, and Zoro did.
Sanji flexed his hands. “Okay, I was supposed to be strong.”
“You are,” Zoro said without thinking, and it spoke to the extraordinary situation they were in that Sanji didn’t immediately pounce on that.
“Now I am. But I wasn’t.” He wasn’t quite talking to Zoro, but to the floor, and it was starting to spill out like a waterfall. “And, he hated me for that, and I really wanted to be strong, ‘cause that was the only way to be worth anything, except that was fucking bullshit and I know this, I was fine the way I was, he was the one who was fucked up, weapon this weapon that, I don’t even want anything to do with him anymore, but...”
But then he became strong.
The unsaid line hung in the air above Sanji’s hunched back. His hands opened and closed, opened and closed. ‘I became strong, so am I still hung up on my worth to that guy?’ or, ‘I became strong, and now I’m exactly what he wanted me to be.’ or maybe even something else. Someone with more emotional intelligence could probably figure it out. Someone with more tact would probably be best.
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
“Fucking thanks, asshole,” Sanji muttered.
“What, so just because this guy wanted you to be strong, you’re not allowed to be strong? Because you hate him? So what! You hate me all the time and you don’t give a shit about what I think! I don’t even know why I’m the one talking to you about this!”
“That makes two of us,” Sanji said dryly, though his hands were still for once.
“If you really hate this guy as much as you say, then forget about him. Forget about what he wanted. It was your decision to get stronger. You were the one who wanted that. Don’t give that to him.” Sanji was looking up at him now, not suspicious, not incredulous, just evaluating. Zoro took a breath. “You had your own reasons. To protect people you wanted to protect, or whatever. Remember that instead of him.”
Sanji sat up, face blank.
“You’re a fucking sap,” he said, with a barely-contained fondness that Zoro was all too happy to ignore in favor of drawing his goddamn swords because finally, things were back to normal.
summerotaku replied to your post: TFW your last remaining holofoil adhesive is not...
RIP as the youtubers say. Good luck in your make it work moments pre con!
TBH, I'm kinda more stressing out trying to deal with the disaster that is my health - con prep is kind of taking a back seat to Not Going to the ER Again.
“You're mother said I was cheap!” My dad replies smugly in explanation as to why he was tipping the waitresses between 40%- 110% whenever we went out to eat.
He was getting revenge on his exwife by being a generous tipper.
Am I more proud of my mothers legacy of making a big tipper out of an ornery curmudgeon or that when my dad decides to be petty some of the lowest paid people in the US get extra money to provide for their kids or put gas in their car.
Side note, after they divorced, my mom was a single mom who worked as a waitress and depended on tips. She knows the value of that (easily undocumented on tax forms) income.
When I tell her how much dad tipped here and there she shakes her head bemused.
I could easily see Sanji, so longing for touch not meant to hurt him, that touches for pleasure become addicting and small nods of validation toward him being worth something. That even if this hurts, it hurts because someone was trying to love him too hard..not reject him. Nicely done. Glad that Luffy finds him in the end but curious what role he'd play on the ship, still cook? Or like Amari from Firefly, a courtisan sort of bardy, diplomat.
jasgjsgjsglsjglskgjls thank you for reviewing??? XDDDD psssh this was a random ass drabble I wrote out of boredom tonight. I didn’t expect it to get attention this fast or so. It’s been a while since I last written something too. And then it was a fucking slut au felita pls
Sanji was mostly conflicted because he sold himself for money. And he was conflicted because he knew everyone who touched him only wanted his body and paid for it- not because they actually wants him. Yet he felt wanted by all those embraces.
I like to think he is still the ship’s cook :> I can’t really take that role away from him in the mugiwara.
