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azsazz · 2 years

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Cupid's Chokehold (Part 2)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You are a Cupid, a nearly extinct creature of Prythian. When you get caught trying to shoot Elain with your arrow, well, it's a little hard to explain what you're trying to do.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,938

Notes: So happy that you all liked part one! This fic is so much fun, I love it so so much.

[Part One]

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You don’t get your bow back.

You’re offered a room, more lavish than anything you’ve ever seen, draped in the finest fabrics of the land, dark and welcoming, with a warm crackling hearth and plush furniture that’s almost as soft as your wings.

The twin wraiths leave you with word they’ll retrieve you for dinner and you’re left to your own devices.

You scowl over your shoulder at the walls like they can hear you, see you, anything and everything that you do. You’re sure there’s some otherworldly power here, can feel it prowling within the house itself as if it has its own beating heart. You smirk at the silly thought, a house that’s alive, such a thing couldn’t be.

Your eyes snag on the balcony and you stalk for it, throwing open the heavy doors. The wind breezes across you as you step outside and you breathe in heartily, the fresh air settling your bones.

The sight is stunning. The bustling city below, lights twinkling across the streets like the ones that will appear in the sky soon, bright and welcoming. The buildings painted all sorts of colors, pinks and purples and blues, like a rainbow of shops all lined up against the river cutting through the city, sparkling in the moonlight.

Glancing over your shoulder once more you analyze the room again. Something feels off, like that shadowsinger of the High Lord’s is prowling through the darkened corners of the chamber. You take into account any and all of the places his shadows could be lurking: under the large four–poster bed, behind the curtains, in the crevices of the rooms where the light from the hearth doesn’t reach.

There’s only one way to test your theory.

You push up easily onto the stone keeping you from falling over the edge of the house into the dark abyss directly below, filled with the loose gravel and red rocky stones making up the rest of the rich mountains no doubt. The wind dances across your face and you shut your eyes in bliss, breathing in deeply as you roll your shoulders, aching from keeping your wings tucked tightly behind you, glamored for so long.

When you begin bouncing on the balls of your feet and spreading your arms wide like you’re about to throw yourself off of the balcony is when the shadowsinger prepares to strike, manifesting from the dark contours of the shadows.

He lunges silently, reaching out to grab your arm and haul you back but he falters at the slight shimmer beneath the silver moonlight as you remove the glamor from your feathery white wings.

Azriel’s sharp inhale has you glaring at him over the crest of your wing, his lean figure frozen as he gazes at you, arm fallen slack at his side. His eyes gleam golden in the moonlight and you hold back a shiver from his wandering eyes.

You are breathtaking, silhouetted against the pale moonlight, wings splayed wide for him to see as you stretch your aching muscles. He’s seen feathered wings of course, but yours look much softer than the warrior Peregryn’s from the Dawn Court. The breeze kisses your hair, blowing it gently from your face where it’s turned towards him, ruffling your stark white feathers.

It makes his mouth run dry.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” he manages to say, nodding towards the open night sky before you as he collects himself, allowing his shadows to swirl around your ankles with warning.

You study him for a moment, grazing over those membranous wings again as if sizing him up.

It makes something within him stir.

“And if I do?” you question, shuffling so the tips of your toes hang over the edge of the thick stone railing.

You know the lethal looking male will dive after you, skilled with centuries of aerial attack training. He’d easily disable you and drag you back to the pits of whatever ungodly sub–court lurks beneath this one, eager to see his gleaming weapons pressed to your perfectly unmarked skin.

Oh and he’d love to drag your pretty ass back to his chambers. He’s itching for you to jump, needing a chase to release him from this pent up energy. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him. A beautiful creature lurking in his lands with the intent to harm his High Lady’s sister shouldn’t be having this sort of effect on him.

“We’ll miss dinner,” is what he goes with, tone cool and even, “And I don’t think you want to keep the High Lord waiting.”

Your wings droop slightly at his words, gaze falling to the abyss below. You haven’t wanted to let yourself fall over the edge more than right now. Azriel allows himself a moment to stare, drinking you in while you’re not looking. You still feel awful for what you had said in his office, the insults you’d spoken about his kind.

Reluctantly, you climb down from the railing with ease, the twirls of darkness retreating towards their master once your feet are firmly on the balcony once more. You say nothing as you pass him, and he trails you silently through your room until you reach the lush hallway where he takes the lead.

Azriel fills you in on what they expect of you, him and his High Lord, explaining that you are to pose as a citizen of the Dawn Court, one of Thesan’s trusted researchers, should the glamor on your wings fail.

You knew that it wouldn’t.

It had almost been too easy for him and his brothers to come up with a backstory for you. You looked every bit like the effervescent females of the solar court, gilded in gold armor with similarly feathered wings to the Peregryn. You were clearly an intelligent female too, even if you’d been caught by the spymaster himself, he’d be foolish to think differently.

You were sent by the High Lord himself, seeking information for your research about a certain healing spell, one that hadn’t been tried in hundreds of years.

You hoped that his family would believe it.

You stay mostly quiet throughout the meal, only answering questions you’ve been directly asked, not offering up any information about yourself besides what the Illyrian males had come up with.

Feyre’s eyebrows twitch from where she’s sitting near the head of the table and you’re left wondering if her and her mate are doing that daemati thing you’d heard about. Speaking into each other’s minds. Such an intimate dealing, being able to know your lover's thoughts at any given moment.

Azriel lets his shadows fill him in on your reactions throughout the meal: your body language, the way your eyes light up at the deliciousness of certain foods, the soft smile that you try to conceal by looking down at your plate, letting your hair fall in front of your face. He notes your curious eyes, flickering around the table as you make your own assessments, citing your own observations.

You notice the way that the Autumn Court male glances longingly at the bubbly middle sister of the High Lady between each bite. Lucien, he’d introduced himself with a strange look on his face, as if he knew you from somewhere but couldn’t remember the time nor place.

You’d hastily moved on, introducing yourself to the High Lord’s cousin instead.

If bubbly was how you described Elain, Mor was positively fizzy. Her vivacious energy and warm spirit had you liking her instantly, and the way she poked fun at the shadowsinger scored her even more points in your book.

“Not so stealthy anymore, are you Az?” she questions the shadowsinger with a wickedly provocative grin on her ruby painted lips, having caught him in the act of watching you. “Lost your touch?”

The brooding male only simpers, casting her with a dark glare that has absolutely no effect on her, having received that look many times for her testing jokes over the centuries they’d known each other.

What Mor is not prepared for, however, is one of his shadows snaking around her ankle and tripping her on her way to the dining table.

She yelps, careening towards the floor but Cassian is there, catching her with the grace of a well trained warrior.

The male laughs down at her and she beams in response, wrapping her arms around his shoulder and crying out dramatically, “My savior!”

Nesta glares at them and you watch amused, wondering if she had somehow gotten shot with two arrows instead of one, for the glare she was shooting at the energetic blonde could crack diamonds and eat souls.

It doesn’t end quick enough. Although the food is delicious you’re stuffed, don’t even think you could manage one more bite if your life depended on it and you’ve got a creeping headache that the few sips of fae wine you’d managed has done nothing to soothe.

You excuse yourself as the family moves from the dining room to the sitting room, cups and bottles of the heady alcohol with them as you retreat to your room for some much needed rest. A terrible day, it had been, and you’d like nothing more than a long bath and to fall into the open arms of the cozy looking bed in your chamber.

The shadowsinger’s eyes follow you until you disappear up the stairs.

__________

Azriel arrives at the training ring at first light.

He’s usually the first one out of his brothers to show up, always ready for a training session. It had been this way for years, Azriel taking his time to stretch his tired muscles, enjoying the early mornings alone, needing to be as lax and limber for the spars that lasted hours between him and the males he calls his family. He never knew what kind of moods they would be in when they arrived.

But the shadowsinger hadn’t been expecting you of all people to be here.

You’re settled in the center of the ring, a heart drawn around you into the rich red sand. You kneel, feet bare and buried into the softness beneath you, grounding you even though you’re on the roof of the High Lord’s home. Your wings are glamoured once again, for your safety as much as they are for your cover with Rhysands family. Your palms spread wide and resting on your knees, chin lifted towards the sky, the first beams of light glittering on your skin.

“Mother, we are your daughters. We remember, we remain,” you chant softly and Azriel’s thick brows furrow as he watches, allowing his shadows to sneak closer for a better look.

It reminds him of the priestesses in the library floors below, how they murmur to the Mother but with different words, their prayers calling out for Her to relinquish their pain, free their souls of the hardships they’d endured.

“Good morning, Cupid,” his molasses like voice startles the quiet morning air, the low rumbling tone settling in the pit of your stomach as you look up.

He’s wearing the same outfit as yesterday, black leathers, sans weapons this time, and you wonder if he owns anything other than the armor he’s donning now.

You tip your head towards him in greeting, resettling into the sands below. The quiet nature of this male shouldn’t bother you, you decide, and you let your mind wander. You let yourself imagine the shadowsinger in something else, but can’t seem to stop picturing his naked torso, how beneath his clothes is pure rippling muscle.

Sighing, you surrender your position, tucking your legs out from under you to stretch them in front, your legs crying in relief.

You surely won’t be able to focus now.

Azriel is still watching you, lost in his own mind. How you could glamor your wings so well even Rhysand hadn’t been able to sense the magic that hid them from sight. He wondered what they’d feel like beneath his blemished fingers, how they’d react to his touch. Were they as sensitive as his own? He wanted to see them splayed out wide for only him–

“I’m finished,” you let him know, waving to the open space in the ring, though you don’t look like you want to move, “You carry on with whatever.”

The corner of his mouth lifts but you’re far too intrigued with running your fingers through the auburn sand, enjoying the way the rough grains feel against your skin, reminding you of the taut string of the bow still hidden within the folds of the world.

You needed to think of a way to get it back.

“You mention you’ve been in the Night Court before, and by the way you spoke of the Illyrians made it seem like you hated it, so why come back? Couldn’t you have given your assignment to someone else?” the shadowsinger questions as he crosses the ring towards the training weapons. He’s utterly intrigued by you but doesn’t know why. The strange creature that had invaded his home sent with a mission to harm his family…

Recon, he boils it down to. It’s just recon.

Azriel pulls a sparring sword off of the rack. It’s the best one in his opinion – his favorite one; perfectly worn in from years of training, the heavy wood littered with knicks and splintering away at some parts of the buloke blade.

He grins to himself, extra damage if he lands a hit to Cassian, who he knows will be crying about the splinters in his skin should he land a hit. He’ll be moping for weeks after Nesta or Madja has to dig them out of the sensitive Illyrians arm.

All the more incentive.

“I'm sorry for speaking of your kind that way,” you begin softly but are interrupted by his scoff.

“Not my kind.” It would be a service to the Night Court to have the Illyrian race wiped out. They were a horrible group of people who did terrible things to their own kind because their traditions and views had not been changed in centuries.

They could burn in hell for all he cares.

“Your assignment…” he drawls when you don’t respond.

“No, I couldn’t have given my assignment away, it doesn’t work like that,” you nearly growl. This male! So arrogant about your kind. But you suppose you were about his people as well, maybe you should cut him some slack. Sighing, you add, “The last time I was in this dreaded court I had to shoot the High Lord with an arrow to stop a poor female from getting her wings clipped. I swore I’d never come back.”

His grip slackens around the hilt of the sword in surprise and his head shoots up to look at you in disbelief. He thanks the Mother that you’re not looking at him, chin raised to the sky once more with your eyes closed, a long inhale filling your lungs with the crisp morning air.

Rhys’ parents were your doing?

“I wouldn’t mention that to the High Lord,” Azriel says coldly, eyes growing dark as he tightens his grip around the hilt once more, moving fluidly through his warm up movements. “If he finds out he may actually kill you.”

You glance at him sharply, brows creased in a way that makes him feel sorry for even mentioning it. He wants to swipe his thumb across your skin to smooth the wrinkles out...or maybe use his lips instead.

“What’s the better alternative?” You spit, climbing to your feet. You brush the coarse sand from your hands and your clothes, dreaded black like the rest of them wore. You preferred red. “A world where your High Lord doesn’t exist or one where she would have been tethered to the Earth forever? There are worse fates, shadowsinger,” you argue.

And he had to give you that, at least. A world without Rhys…he shivers at the thought. Of what he had to do for his brother's father for so many years.

They were much better off under Rhysand’s reign.

“What happens if you don’t shoot Elain?” he follows up, slashing the dummy blade through the air with such precision and control that you can’t help but follow. They way his muscles move beneath his leathers, the action an afterthought after so many years of training.

You blush and avert your gaze when he looks over at you, an inky eyebrow raised.

“Nothing. We have our assignments and I usually like to do mine in order they are received,” you shrug a shoulder.

There have been many times throughout your career where you’d had to shoot a pair that wouldn’t last. It stung sometimes, to do such a thing, but you trust the Mother more than anything and she’ll never be wrong.

“I suggest you start thinking of changing career paths then,” he croons, amused, “Because I don’t think you’ll ever get the chance to shoot Elain with one of your arrows.”

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes glinting with challenge. “Fate has a funny way of working, shadowsinger, don’t you worry.”

And there’s that word again…fate. Azriel refuses to believe that you could so strongly follow the idea of destiny, that certain things are bound to happen and cannot be changed. Written out by the Mother herself for her loyal Cupids to follow.

“Is that a threat?” He bristles. It sure as hell sounds like one.

Your sly smirk paired with a dark glare at him makes something awaken inside of him. His cock twitches in his pants.

“It’s a promise.”

#azrielxreader #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azsazz #cupids chokehold #cupid #acosf #azriel/you

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the-lavender-clown · 6 months

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MORE COWBOY AU STUFF BECAUSE I’M OBSESSED!!! The au I’ve made with some friends is called Fool’s Gold! I may or may not write some fics for it 👀

Here’s an infodump on it if anyone is interested!!

Raph is tired sheriff who sighs at every newspaper & new wanted poster showing off his blue and purple brothers as well as Donnie’s partner in crime but a he can’t help but be a little proud because he knows their doing good, just in their own special & questionable way.

Mikey is a nomad that travels around & sells self-woven clothes and blankets as well as hand carved & painted trinkets or whatever else he’s made. He treats weary travelers to home cooked meals & tales & legends of four brothers! He’s also the only brother not *constantly* making trouble for Raph.

Leo is a lone hero. Going town to town & over throwing whatever greedy mayor/banker/outlaw has that town in its clutches. He’s able to masterfully manipulate whoever he’s dealing with & using his many resources to gather important information. He ties them up to a post for the sheriff’s convenience when he comes by the town to pick them up.

Donnie & Cass are bounty hunters/mercenaries. They used to chase each other for their bounties & because Cass was a part of the Foot before the brothers took them down & Donnie just so happens to often be the closest to her trail once she popped up again. After awhile of constantly failing to catch each other they started thinking of each other as *their* targets & everyone knew better than to try and catch the other. A fun little song & dance/game of cat & mouse if you will. Eventually they ended up having to run from the same person together & realized that they honestly make a good team & have stuck together ever since!

Shelldon is adopted by Donnie before he & Cass teamed up. He was told by the Purple Dragons to get close to Donnie so they could catch him in exchange for enough money to set him for life, money they had no intention on giving him. He did get close to Donnie but in the end didn’t want to betray him but the Dragons had accounted for that & set off an explosion in a mining tunnel to get rid of them both. Donnie ended up being able to get Shelldon a little clear of the crumbling tunnel before he was trapped under the rumble. Shelldon doesn’t want to leave him but eventually does & immediately goes to try to find help, coming across Leo who had found Donnie’s spooked horse & was trying to find out what trouble Donnie had gotten himself into since his horse never leaves unless something really bad happened. Donnie ends up losing a leg cuz is it truly an F!Donnie if he doesn’t?

Casey is adopted after Donnie & Cass team up. They were in town for some groceries when Raph told them about this kid in some not so great circumstances & said it’d be a shame if someone were to beat up his guardians & kidn@p him while he was busy with all this paperwork. Donnie & Cass were gone before he finished. They weren’t gonna pass up an opportunity where they had permission to do a crime after all!

The main difference between Leo & Donnie’s work is that Donnie always cashes in the bad guys for money & can be hired for jobs as well as uses semi lethal methods while Leo mainly does it for fun & justice (& to mess with Raph) & takes like a free drink as payment before moving on. Leo will leave notes on the bad guys for Raph for when he comes to pick them up.

“The Bread Winners” is the name of Donnie, Casey, Shelldon, & Junior’s gang because Casey’s brownie scouts & my Donnie baker hc. It also shows that they’re in it for the money & fits with how the go undercover as a family often. Plus it sounds innocent enough to disguise how insane they really are.

That is it for now!! Hope some of y’all like it!!

Here’s the drawing without the text in the middle

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little-lily-w · 1 year

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Should I continue this? lol

“Ah!” the hand went to your mouth when the little whimper had already escaped your lips. Too bad of a mistake when giving away your location put you in great danger.

The maze was unforgivable. The night had consumed the last tiny bit of its light, almost as if the moon was non-existent. The only taste of freedom was the wind, cold and violent against your face with every step you made. Your mind was begging you to run, to move even faster, but your gut also told you that the breathless gasps you made were the perfect sound for him to find you.

The rules of the game were pretty simple. As sadist as a hearts one could be.

Game: surgery.

Each player has a role assigned to them: either the doctor or the patient. The doctor must catch the patient before time is over. Once captured, the doctor must use the steel knife presented on the table to make the 10 cuts indicated on the wall poster. The patient must trust that the doctor won’t cause them any lethal harm. If the “surgery” is done before time is over, both players win. If the patient manages to escape or kill the doctor, the patient is the one and only winner. If the doctor kills the patient, the doctor is the one and only winner. You have five hours. Starting now.

You blinked rapidly to properly process what was going on. The images on the electronic game board had been quite clear but the poster on the wall picturing the human anatomy with long red lines along the most fragile regions of it was what actually called you back to reality. Your eyes moved ever so slowly to the side, head following once you realized that the bracelet you took actually displayed the word “patient” when the time countdown started. Chishiya, on the other hand, he had already understood his role and examined the weapon as well as the poster. Wrists, chest, thighs, hipbones and… throat. The fear you showed in your shocked face could be quite understandable.

“Chishiya…”, you babbled, giving a stumbling step backwards.

Yes, he was unfortunately going to deal with a lot of emotion.

“Chishiya, please…”, you begged and even though he stood still in the same spot, arms crossed with examining apathetic eyes, you turn around and sprinted towards what seemed like a copy of an emergency exit door of a hospital.

And there you went, right outside, right into the maze. A nice touch created to entertain the game masters for sure.

Chishiya took the steel knife, sticking it into his pocket. Why did people never think before panicking?

“Five hours is quite a long time”, he said lowly to himself watching you run away.

You asked for part 2

#chishiya #chishiya x reader #alice in borderland

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return-to-ravenbrooks · 14 days

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Return to Ravenbrooks:

Biography

Entry 4

Name: Ivan Torre

Date of Birth: 1997

Gender: M

Current Address: 910 Friendly Court

Height: 5'10

Hair color: Red

Eye color: Brown

Key features:Square glasses, "handcut" hair, rubber gloves

Role: Gadgeteer

Abilities: Intelligence, inventing, flexible

Occupation: Engineer

Status: Fair

Biography:

It's hard having such a strong interest in the weird. You try and fit it into every conversation because you just need to share it with someone else. That's how I was about amusement park rides.

Not in the normal way kids talk about rides, about how scary they are, or the fun in riding them, I liked picking them apart. How did each bend play into the ride's movement? What kind of track did they use? How did it operate? Were there any animatronics? What kind? What were the backup plans in case of failure?

Asking those kinds of questions doesn't make you a lot of friends in elementary school though. Even when you try and design your own rides with their racecar tracks and legos.

Adults didn't get it either. Why couldn't I have normal interests? Why don't you go play with the other kids instead of bugging me?

As I searched for new rides to dissect, I quickly decided if anyone in the world would get my interests would be the same man adding to the list with every new piece he crafted. Theodore Peterson, the engineer known around the world, an engineer raised from our very town.

I was obsessed. I had posters of his rides on my walls that I'd likely never get the chance to actually ride, I tried to imagine how he made his blueprints, and how he thought of his plans. By all accounts, I wanted to be Theodore Peterson. I'd tape paper mustaches to my face at school and copy his posture. It didn't help how little I fit in with others, if anything it made it worse, even my parents raised an eyebrow to my behavior. But I didn't care. He understood me. I knew it. And when I learned he'd be returning to Ravenbrooks to build an incredible amusement park for us? I practically fainted.

I remember getting home that night. I was still shaking. I was freezing from whatever that gunk was we'd hidden in. I needed a bath, and to scrub my tongue raw. But I couldn't yet, I was too angry. Even covered in god knows what and slightly singed from what I can only imagine was meant to be a lethal amount of electricity I barely avoided, I grabbed at my walls and tore.

I felt so betrayed. Sure most of the town had gained a slight hatred for Mr. Peterson after Lucy Yi died, but I defended him. I believed it was just a tragic accident. There's no way a person could really be so awful right?

Sure the first time I met him wasn't perfect, he was weirder in person in a way that had seemed almost scary. But- that's just because I was younger, right? A lot of adults seem scary when you're little.

Every excuse I could think of was spent on this man, so desperately clinging, even this morning to the idea that he couldn't really be evil. He couldn't have kidnapped Nicky, not my hero, not the man who built a roller coaster into his house.

My vision went blurry with tears. How could he do this? How could he be such a monster? How could I have fallen for his facade?

And what did such an imaginative man do to my friend?

#hello neighbor return to ravenbrooks #return to ravenbrooks #hello neighbor #hello neighbor au #rtrb #hnas #welcome to ravenbrooks #ivan torre #ivan hello neighbor

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mantisgodsart · 2 months

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We have finally finished this project, and thus, The World's Worst Dating Sim is finally DONE! Just in time for April Fools Day. Now, with our six new contestants, choose, uhh... who's dateable? Or not dateable? This last batch was determined almost entirely by People Telling Us Who To Add, contains multiple AUs, and is... hmm. "Unconventional" may be a good term? Half of these are probably undateable but you can still shoot your shot.

As previously, it can be a platonic date if you want, you just can't be neutral. Deadlander Lambda belongs to @cordycepsbian and has been moved into our studio for duration of this poll. Profiles below the cut.

(we're linking the first poll here)

Deadlander Lambda - Maybe - Deadlander - Good question - At least a little bit

This, uhh...

...is this safe? We don't think this is safe. ..."Already had kids before"? What do you mean it's a parent?

...well, we can't get it out of the studio, so it's an option now? We guess? This... really doesn't seem like a good idea.

Rogu - He/him - Ant drone - Very rude to ask a gentleman that, don't you think? - I wouldn't worry about that.

A charming mystery from somewhere only described as "a faraway land", though he wasn't quite scheduled in this lineup, we think we can make an exception. This silver-tongued bug seems to be able to say just what's needed to get under your skin... and from the look of it, he's angling to take you somewhere private.

...come to think of it, haven't we seen that face before? On a poster, maybe? Well, it's not a surprise he's been modelling for things, he's certainly got a pretty enough face for it, but why do we feel... nervous, all of a sudden?

Carmina - She/(scribbled in)it - (illegible) - (illegible) - (illegible)(scribbled out with "No longer relevant" written in its place)

...where is she? She was meant to show up hours ago. What on earth could have held her up this long?

Pebbles - He/him - Moth ("iterator") - Juvenile (estimated) - Unclear

Right out of surgery, this one. While we're not sure if it's entirely responsible to include this one, and we certainly don't speak whatever language he's speaking... he's cute, isn't he? And looking for a home? Well, maybe if you're the sort of person who might want to rescue a domestic moth in a bad situation...

Wereweevil Vi - It/its (wereweevil form) - Wereweevil - 19 - Aro

Pre-existing hangups mean that you can only date this one in wereweevil form. Good luck.

Kina - She/her - Mantis (big) - Haven't asked - Also haven't asked

Well, we assume that you can do less lethal than the bandit who people mostly know thanks to her former job as a corpse disposal unit, but some people might be into that sort of thing, honestly. Are you, perchance, also a mantis?

#our art #bug fables #finished #watercolor #ocs #other peoples ocs #deadlander lambda #monsieur scarlet #carmina #five pebbles #wereweevil vi #kina #valentines #or we're tagging it as such for organization its actually an april fools poll #we treat the two events with about the same gravity so it fits #for clarification purposes: five pebbles is several centuries old and would be very offended at being called juvenile #however he is less than an inch tall and built like a stick and doesnt speak bugnish at all #so he spends most of his time lurking beneath furniture and trying to bite people with his new mouth. much to the hospitals distaste.#although the wereweevil is vi or at least an aspect of her it is not a terribly sapient one #it is hungry and afraid and desperate and lashing out in search of any pack #in search of ANY connection it can find #and the only way it knows how to do that is by violently mauling everyone and everything in its path so uhh good luck bucko #wereweevil vi in normal form has way too many hangups over intimacy to agree to an outing and must be approached like a feral cat #we know about the normal timeline and we added extra years so that she has the time to acquire more problems #thus ends our FAQ. good luck #EDIT: typo in the tags. ough

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so-much-for-stardust6 · 21 days

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Brother’s Best Friend- Wes Borland

summary: you recently went through a breakup and your brother, fred durst, is forcing you to go out with him and his band mates. he has this one rule that makes you off limits, but will that rule be broken when with wes?

lowercase intended

warnings: smut & cursing

a/n: came up with a posting schedule so it’ll be easier to write 🙏 also i re read it but i swear there’s probably a couple spelling mistakes so bear with me i’m sorry

i lay awake in bed, staring up at my ceiling in the dark. my eyes adjusted to the darkness so i saw the faint outline of the poster i had on my ceiling. just as i was drifting off to sleep, my brother swings my door open and turns on the light.

“fred, what the fuck?” i groan out, covering my eyes.

“get up.” he pulls my blanket off me, tossing it to the floor.

“can you go away? i’m not getting up.” i go into fetal position.

“y/n, you’ve been cooped up in this room for a week.”

“two weeks.” i correct him.

“doesn’t help your case.” he sits on the edge of my bed.

“come on, get up and get dressed.”

“why?”

“i’m going out with the guys and you’re coming. you need to get out and let loose.”

“why would i hang out with you and your friends, you guys will embarrass me.”

“embarrass you? we are not embarrassing.” he scoffs, standing up.

“you’re funny.” i say with a sarcastic look on my face.

fred mutters something before laying on me. he’s practically suffocating me, putting his dead weight on me.

“get the fuck off, fred! i swear.” i try to shove him off.

“i’ll get off if you go out.”

“fine! anything to get you out my room.” i cave in.

he gets up, smoothing out his shirt with a dumb smile on his face.

“perfect! we’re leaving in 30.” he pats my leg.

i take the opportunity to punch his shoulder, pay back for being annoying.

“ow, what the fuck?!”

“payback.” i stick my tongue out.

“immature.”

“says you!”

after he leaves the room, i lay back down and groan at the fact i have to go out. i could just not go but i know he’d hold it against me or something. i recently just got out of a relationship and was pretty sulky about it, fred being the one to support me. i was staying with him for a bit while i figure out a new living situation. fred suggested for me to just live with him, an opportunity i might consider.

i sit up and let out a deep breath before standing up to head towards my closet. i wasn’t looking to impress anyone tonight, so i picked out casual clothes. some baggy cargo pants fred bought me for my birthday and some band tee. i apply some light mascara and lip gloss, i gotta at least look presentable i guess. i clip on my earrings and necklace before deciding that i was done, deodorant and sprits of perfume to confirm. i couldn’t find my shoes, searching all around my room for them. i sigh in frustration and head to ask fred about them.

“fred, have you seen my converse? i swore i left them in my room-“ i cut myself off once i enter the living room.

there he sat with his band mates, beers in hand.

“hey y/n!” john greeted me.

“hey. uh, sorry for intruding but have you?” i look at fred.

i gulp out of nervousness as i feel a certain band member’s eyes on me. wes borland. when i first met him, i’ve always thought he was really cute but i never acted upon it. i was fred’s younger sister (only by two years) so i was basically ‘off limits’. but i’ll be lying if i said i never imagined being with wes.

“you left them out the other day, so i put them in the closet.”

“alright, thanks. and i’m basically ready, by the way.”

“you’re wearing that?”

“uh, yeah? what else would i wear.”

“i dunno, something to catch guys’ eyes.”

“gross, fred. i don’t want to meet anyone tonight.” i go to the closet, opening it to see my shoes.

“she looks good, fred. and shouldn’t you be against anyone messing with your little sister.” leor, or lethal as they call him, defends me.

“so is your sister now on limits?” sam jokes.

i took that as my cue to leave, avoiding any further conversation. i slip my shoes on in the hallway as i hear fred tell them off.

“okay boys, let’s go. i want this night to be over with quickly.” i round them up.

they all form a line as they exit fred’s apartment.

“i think you look nice.” wes whispers in my ear.

shivers were sent down my spine, a moan creeping up my throat. i luckily caught myself before any sound left my lips. i turn around to look at him, a smile on my face.

“thanks, wes.”

“no problem.” he winks at me.

my knees nearly gave out. he’s killing me.

after finally convincing them to let me drive since they were already drinking, we arrived at the club. i mentally prepare myself to be in a crowd full of sweaty bodies, something i didn’t want for a thursday night.

“okay, you stay by any of us for the rest of the night. i don’t want any creeps touching you.” fred tells me in a strict voice, pointing finger pointed at me the whole time.

“i thought you wanted me to get out there?” i joke, a smirk forming on my lips.

“fuck you.”

after showing the bouncer our ids, we enter the loud and humid club. fred was leading us towards the bar, ordering shots for us. i grab the tiny glass and take a deep breath before taking it. once i swallow, i cough a bit at the feeling.

“WOOO, LETS GET FUCKED UP!!” fred shouts, already being embarrassing.

i stayed in the back of the group, kinda 6th wheeling as the guys downed shots and chatted.

“you okay?” wes asks, bumping my arm to catch my attention.

“huh? oh yeah, i’m fine. i’m just feeling like a bit of a 6th wheel, you know.” i chuckle.

“wanna go somewhere to chat? haven’t talked to you in a while, stinker.” he playfully ruffled my hair.

stinker was some stupid nickname he gave me. for what reason? i don’t know. and do i hate it? no, actually. i look at fred, watching as he laughed his stupid laugh before chugging a beer.

“yeah, i’m fine with that.”

wes looks back at the group, making sure they don’t see us leave. his big hand takes mine as he leads us to the back of the club and to a tiny booth. it was dark and a bit quiet in the corner, something i was very comfortable with.

“so, how have you been? fred kinda told me what happened. i’m sorry.” he immediately gets into that.

“i’ve been doing better. obviously not 100% perfect but better, you know?” i sip the beer in my hand.

“i understand. i’m glad you’re better, you’re always cheerful so seeing you sad was off putting.”

“fred has been trying forever to get me out the house and i guess he finally succeeded.” i shake my head as the memory of what happened earlier played in my mind.

“if you don’t mind me asking, why aren’t you looking for someone tonight?”

“oh, i just uh-i’m just not in the mood. i have no energy left for a relationship. energy to talk to people and start one up, i should actually say.”

“so you’d rather be around people you know? or be with people you know?” he eyes me, waiting for an answer.

“uh, yeah i guess. easier than starting new.” i sip my beer again.

wes and i chatted for 30 more minutes, occasionally leaving to get more beers. we were about 5 beers in, very clearly tipsy and slightly drunk. we scooted closer to one another in the booth, his body heat radiating off and onto me.

“is living with fred any fun?”

“fuck no. he’s a dick most of the time and annoying. but i love him so much cause he’s my brother.”

“unfortunate that he’s your brother.”

“why’s that?” i take a fat gulp of my 6th beer.

“cause you’re really pretty.” he confesses.

my cheeks heat up, a smile forming on my face.

“get outta here.” i jokingly shove him away.

“i’m serious. you’re so pretty that i wanna kiss you.”

“then kiss me.”

he stared at me, faces so close that i smelt the alcohol from his breath. after a couple of glances at my lips, he finally moved in to kiss me. the coldness of his lip ring caused me to gasp, his tongue taking the opportunity to slip into my mouth. my hands flew to his face, pushing his closer to me. our tongues danced with one another, the taste of beer on my tastebuds. his hands went to my hips, grabbing me to move me onto his lap. i ran my fingers through his hair, practically massaging his scalp. one of his hands rested against my thigh, occasionally squeezing it. i moan into his mouth, unconsciously grinding on him. it was his turn to moan into my mouth, his hands tightly gripping me.

“wes, there you are man! we’ve been lookin for you.” i hear fred’s voice call out.

we quickly pull apart and before i was able to get off of wes, he shoved my head to the side of his. i was confused but i stayed there, resting my chin on his shoulder as i faced the wall.

“hey man, what’s up?” wes asks, nervousness in his voice.

“i can’t find y/n, have you seen her?” his words slurring.

“uh, no man i haven’t. i’m sure she’s around, she probably met a guy.”

“okay, probably did..hey are you getting some right now?” fred laughs.

“yeah man, what a way to cockblock.”

“oh shit, my bad dude. i’ll be out of your guys’ hair.” i felt fred pat wes’ shoulder.

“is he gone?”

“i think so.”

“was he really that drunk to not know it’s me?” i laugh.

“mmm, guess so. but i’m glad he didn’t, he would’ve kicked my ass.”

“kissing isn’t that bad.”

“yeah but sleeping with his sister is.”

“sleeping with me? mmm, very bold mister.” i toy with his bottom lip before kissing him.

“let’s take this somewhere else.” he mumbles against my lips.

i smirk as i pull away, knowing a spot. i pull out the car keys, jingling them in front of his face. we rush out the club, hopefully unnoticed by the rest of the band. we laugh as we run to the car, quickly unlocking it and shoving ourselves inside.

luckily i parked in the way corner where it was dark but the windows were tinted anyways. we didn’t hesitate to kiss again, sitting on his lap once again. he grabbed onto my hips, moving them to grind against his now hard dick. i move my hand to the back of his neck, pushing him deeper in the kiss. one of his hands traveled higher up my body, resting on one of my boobs. he slowly began to massage it, a spark igniting in my stomach. the air in the car immediately got hot, windows fogging up already.

“fuck, lay down.” he groaned.

i get off him, awkwardly laying down. i thought he’d get on top but instead he awkwardly tried to go down on me.

“wes, you’re too fucking tall.” i giggle.

“fuck. sit up, i have an idea.”

i obey his words and sit up. i watch as he adjusts the driver and passenger seats to where they were all the way up. he then goes to his knees on the floor with all the new space. he unbuttons my jeans and i lift my hips up so he was able to shimmy them off. the cold air hits my wet underwear causing my legs to close shut due to reflex.

“tsk, tsk, tsk. gotta have them open, baby.”

he used his hands and pried them open, becoming face to face to what he caused. his pupils dilated as he stares at the wet spot, tongue darting out to wet his lips. his long fingers dance up my thigh, toying with the hem of my underwear. he then slowly pulled them down, teasing me. i sat there trying to be patient but my mind was exploding.

“fuck come on wes.” i beg.

he stared up at me and smirked, removing my underwear with one smooth pull. i gasp out at the air and bare contact with the seat. wes didn’t play around anymore and he went to run a finger through my slit, spreading my wetness. he brought his hand back to his face, placing his finger into his mouth. he moaned around his fingers, the taste of me coating his tastebuds.

“so fucking good…”

i squirm and moan out at the sensual sight, needing him more than ever. he returned his fingers, this time sliding them inside me. he slowly pumped them, letting me adjust before he started to go faster. he curled them, attempting to find that one spot. i gripped the edge of the seat, head thrown back as i moan out. i sat there as he fingered me, my juices most definitely getting all over the seat.

he suddenly stopped, a disappointing sound coming from my mouth. before i could say anything, i felt his plump lips against me. i gasped out in surprise, hand flying to his head. i had a hold on his hair, gripping it as he ate me out. the feeling of his tongue lapping at me was too much for me to handle, my head spinning like crazy. i squeezed my eyes shut and whined out, pushing his head closer. to add to the craziness, he brought his hand back to rub my clit. that sent me over the edge, suddenly feeling the spring in my stomach tighten to its max.

“wes…i-“ i cut myself off with a moan.

he hummed against me, signaling me to go ahead and cum. the vibrations from his hum sent me, arching my back as i came all over his face. i rode his face, breathing heavily as i pulled him away. i looked down at his face, his mouth and chin covered in my juices.

“so delicious. wish i tasted you earlier..” he wiped some of me off his chin to suck it up.

i grab his face and guide him back up to me. i lay us down comfortably, wes hovering over me.

“take off your pants, borland.”

“yes ma’am..”

he was quick to unbutton them, shoving them down his legs and to his ankles.

“wait, we need protection.” i stop him from removing his boxers.

“fuck, i don’t have any.”

“check the glove box.”

he gets off me and clumsily reaches over to the glovebox, popping it open. he searched through papers and napkins before getting ahold of a box.

“i think these are bit small but they should fit.” he shows me the box of condoms.

“if they work then they work.” i shrug.

he rips them open, eager to fuck me already. he takes out a condom, throwing the box to the floor with no care.

he quickly sits back down, pulling down his boxers to expose his erect dick. my stomach did flips at the sight of him, wondering if he’d fit. he uses his teeth to rip open the foil, taking out the condom then spitting the wrapper to the floor. he carefully rolls the condom on, trying not to rip it. it was a snug fit, not too tight to where it’d break because if it did then fred would definitely kill him if i end up pregnant. wes made sure it on fully before climbing on top of me again, pressing a kiss to my lips.

“this tops needs to go.” he tugs at my shirt.

“if you want to see my boobs then say so.” i joke.

“i want to see your boobs.” he says seriously.

i struggle to take off my shirt but eventually manage, leaving me only in a bra. i was about to unclip my bra to be fully nude but wes just pulls my bra down, letting my boobs spill out. i shriek out at the suddenness.

“if i had to remove my shirt then you do too, wes.”

he pulled off his shirt easily, throwing it in the front seat quickly so he could return to my boobs. he dipped his head down to kiss my chest, nipping at my skin. as he did that, he grabbed his dick and rubbed himself against my folds, preparing me for him. he then slowly slid in, stretching me out in ways i didn’t think was possible. i grab onto his shoulders, squeezing them as he inserted himself further. once he was fully in, he waited for me to adjust to him. i nodded when i decided it was okay for him to move. he slowly started to thrust, the adrenaline in my veins flowing at a million miles per hour. i get fed up at his slow pace, needing more from him.

“faster…” i whine out.

he pulls away from my chest to look up at me as he started to thrust faster. he watched my face as i moan out his name, his own stomach doing flips. he knows he’s breaking the one rule the band was given by fred but he can’t help it, he just needs me. he hungrily kisses me, nibbling on my bottom lip like he was starving. his mind became foggy from the alcohol (and the fact that he was inside of me) causing him to start thrust harder. i cry out against his mouth as he immediately finds that one spot. it made my body numb, my senses all heightened as he kept hitting it. i dug my nails into his shoulders, probably drawing blood.

our bodies became slicked with sweat due to the humid car air, windows fogged the fuck up. he classically places his hand onto the window, leaving an iconic hand print. he held himself like that as he even went faster than before, making me swear i saw stars. the car rocked with his thrusts, very obviously indicating that we were having sex. my knees buckled when i felt that familiar spring in my stomach, a breathless moan escaping my mouth and into his. he felt me clench around him, adding dizziness to his foggy mind. he felt like an animal with how hard he was thrusting, wanting to go even harder and faster. he pulled away from my lips and went back to my chest, this time paying attention to my boobs. he didn’t hesitate to suck on them, teeth lightly nipping them. i was inching closer and closer to my orgasm, muscles tensing with every second.

“wes..i’m about to-“

“do it for me, baby. come all over me.” he stared up at me.

i tried to hold eye contact with him but failed as i finally let go. i clenched around him, my walls stuttering as i released all over him. i throw my head back and moan out, his name occasionally coming out my mouth. the feeling of me cumming all over him, clenching onto him pushed him to his own orgasm. he groaned out and came into the condom, hips stuttering as he did. his muscles were flexed as he came, showing off his abs and whatnot. once he was done cumming, he slowed down his movements before completely stopping.

“fuck..” he breathed out.

“that was-“

“fucking amazing.” he finished my sentence.

he pulled out of me, sitting up and collapsing against the seat. i follow suit and sit up, sluggishly sitting against the seat.

“i don’t even wanna get dressed.” he groans out.

“me neither but we gotta before the guys decide they’re done.”

“damn, you’re right. here let me get something to clean you up.” he reaches over to the glovebox to grab the napkins.

he cleans me up and the seat as well, trying to erase any sign that anyone fucked in here. wes and i grabbed all our clothes and put them on, looking in the mirrors to straighten ourselves out.

“i’m gonna be right back, i need to throw this away.” he says, indicating to the condom he’s holding.

i nod as he opens the door, leaving it open to get the fresh air circulating inside. i drop my head back and sigh out as the fresh air hit my skin, cooling me down instantly. suddenly, a hand slapping against the window causes me to scream out.

“why are you screaming, sis! it’s me!” fred laughs out once he opens the door.

“fuck off, fred.” i grumble, the alcohol still in my system a bit.

“woah, it’s hot as fuck in here!” sam shouts out.

“i’ve been looking all over for you! where’d you go?!” fred climbs into the backseat.

“she was talking with some girls in the club. i found her outside throwing up so i brought her here.” wes spoke out, returning from the garbage.

“wes, my man! how was that chick, was she good?”

“i’d rather not say.” wes says uncomfortably, not wanting to explain how i was to fred.

“whatever man.” he thankfully let the topic go.

john gets in the front seat to drive us home, the least drunk out of the whole group.

“why the fuck are the seats all the way up?” he complains.

“wes definitely got some!” lethal laughs out, picking up the opened condom box.

“hey! those were new!” sam cries out.

wes gets inside the car, making me stuck between him and fred until sam then shoved himself in the back causing me to sit on top wes’ lap. he held onto my hips as john drove back to fred’s apartment. as he hit potholes i bounced up and down accidentally, making wes get hard again. i giggle to myself as i felt him against my ass.

“again?” i whisper to him.

“i can’t help it.” he whispers back.

“y/n are those hickies?” sam points out.

i furrow my eyebrows and check the mirror again, seeing my neck slightly littered in hickies. i swore i checked and saw absolutely none.

“hey! i hope no guy messed with you! anyone who messes with my sister will die. especially one of you guys.” fred slurs, pointing to all the guys.

“i’m a deadman.” wes whispers.

“yes you are.”

#wes borland #wes borland smut #limp bizkit #limp bizkit smut #fred durst #fred durst smut #dj lethal #john otto #sam rivers #90s #90s smut #90s nu metal #nu metal #2000s #2000s smut #2000s nu metal

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cringecannon · 2 months

Note

ohoohho you're back!!! been backreading everything <3

anyway pls give more dominant gortash. brat-tamer (more like breaker) gortash my beloved

As an advisor for the Grand Duke, you had a front row seat to the weasel's whole shitty charade. You never made a true stand against him because you didn't have a death wish, but you were as verbally repulsed as you could get away with. Honestly, you weren't entirely sure why he hadn't forced a tadpole into you yet. The few advisory meetings he did hold were all just for show, and as the only person not under his control (literally or willingly), you took it upon yourself to be a minor nuisance.

You lounged lazy in your seat, swirling a chalice of wine as he discusses his brilliant new crime prevention plan. You skim the propaganda poster he's handed out, making a game out of how loosely you can hold it before it slips from your hands.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see everyone else around the table has focused on you. You hadn’t noticed the sudden hush that fell over the room until now. Adjusting your chalice slightly (you had been using it to block the sight of him), you find the Arch Duke watching you expectantly. Ah. You've been formally asked a question. How cute. You ask what you've missed, and his smile doesn't falter as he repeats himself. You've been abnormally quiet. He's just curious what your thoughts are on his proposals.

Looking back to the poster in your hand, you read more intentionally. Frankly, it's a joke. You’re honestly a little offended he even put this in front of you. Outwardly you shrug, unimpressed, and crumple the paper up a bit before dropping it onto the table. It's ambitious.

Is that all? Usually you have so much more to add.

He’s watching you carefully, and you give him nothing to work with but a shrug. You ask if he’d like you to warn the morgues in advance that half the city will be under their care in the next six months, or if it should be left as a fun surprise.

You swear you see his gauntlet twitch, fingers tightening around his quill. Satisfaction blooms in your chest. You love getting under his skin. He stares at you, face unreadable. It pains him that you think so little of him. He stepped up to save the city, and his criminal policies will ensure the city stays saved.

You laugh quietly, rolling your eyes. They’re criminal policies, that’s for certain. Murmurs break out among the advisors, and Gortash’s eyes narrow.

If you have something to say counselor, speak plainly.

You glance over, searching his face to see how much further over the line you should go. It was a clear warning, but you’ve never taken kindly to being threatened. You sit up in your seat, clasping your hands together and smiling politely back to him. I have no other comments, m’lord. Just a quick question; how much longer will this meeting take? I need to order a few thousand more axes. I’m not sure our current executioner’s supply will be adequate for your plans.

Gortash seethes and you lay your chin on your clasped hands, smiling as serenely as you can manage. You’re the only one in the room who doesn’t jump when he barks for everyone to get out, immediately. You don’t bother getting up, not at all surprised when he specifies that you are staying here.

The door slams shut on the last advisor, and you find yourself alone with the Arch Duke. You weigh your options in your head as he walks around the table. As much credit as you try to give yourself, you can’t take him in a fight. You might get a few bites in, maybe even take out an eye, but his watchers would turn you into a red smear on the wall before you could do anything lethal. You just have to play nice, get back on his good side. Should be easy enough.

He sets his hands on the back of your chair, pushing it in until you’re forced to sit up straight. Why do you think he keeps you around? An interesting question. You hazard a guess that it’s because of your stunning good looks. A small, polite chuckle from behind you. Close. You entertain him, he tells you. His hands slip to your shoulders.

It entertains him that despite how little power you have, you think you can talk to him like you’re better than he is. His fingers dig into your skin and a small feeling of unease settles into you. It entertains him that you dance around and laugh like this is all some big comedy you’re in. One hand moves to the back of your head and you only have a second to prepare before your face makes contact with the wood table, your vision flashing bright white and then black. You can’t open your eyes, and you’re not entirely sure what exactly hurts. The chair is yanked from under you and you struggle to stand, your legs uncooperative. His hand holds your head down, forcing you to stay bent over. You’re vaguely aware of him pressing himself against your ass, but you can’t bring yourself to care all that much.

Listen, and listen good. His gauntlet slips under your clothes, scratching at the skin of your hip painfully. He’s had enough of your games. He let you run off leash for far too long, and it’s time for him to rectify that mistake. He grinds against you, using one foot to kick your legs apart. You stay as still as possible, eyebrows drawing together when his hand slips between your legs. The gold claws painfully drag against the inside of your thigh, and he leans over your back to murmur into your ear. He will bring you to heel. No matter how long it may take. It’s his solemn vow to you. Bend… or break. He’ll be satisfied either way.

#always a pleasure to write a snarky reader #.enver gortash #.bg3 #notsfw

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thetragicallynerdy · 7 months

Note

So many of your WIPs sound really intriguing but I'm gonna go with "and we will build a home from the wreckage - jim olu cowboys" (for now 😉)

Hahaha aww thanks friend!!

So this one is actually partially posted already!! It's still in my WIP folder because all of the chapters are in one big document because I'm terrible like that.

The premise is: Jim, an outlaw in ~1770s old West, is on the run from Spanish Jackie's gang after being shot. They try and break into Oluwande's barn to get shelter, and he catches them, and gives them a place to stay and heal. The town Oluwande lives near is run by notorious US Marshall Stede Bonnet and his partner, a retired Blackbeard.

If you feel like reading the two chapters that are up, it's posted here! It updates SLOWLY. Like, it's been 9 months since the last chapter.

Here's a long snippet from probably the next chapter!

And if anyone feels like dropping me an ask for the WIP folder game, my long list of WIP titles is here!

“Oh – Oluwande –" Stede gives Oluwande a smile. "Fang wants something from you. He’s in the kitchen! Go on, go on back –“

Oluwande gives them a sympathetic look, then disappears. If the suspicious timing hadn’t already set them on edge, that would have done it. They watch him head back towards the kitchen with growing apprehension. And then he’s gone, and they are alone, but for Stede and Ed.

Ducking under their hat and hunching their shoulders, Jim knocks back the rest of their whiskey and reaches for their coin purse. But Stede is already sliding into view, that too bright smile on his face.

“Jim,” he stage whispers, loud and too cheery in the quiet of the near empty saloon. “I’ve got something for you.” He sets a yellowed piece of paper on the bar in front of them, sliding it over.

They don’t need to pick it up. They already know what it is, as soon as he fucking sets it down. But they pick it up anyway, everything in them going cold, numb. They’d hoped – they’d hoped.

Jim stares down at their face, their name, the $1000 bounty. This isn’t the one from Jackie, the insultingly low one. No, this one comes from [COUNTY NAME], government certified. This one – this one they can’t run away from.

They look at Stede, then at their bounty poster. Side eye Ed, wondering how quick they can reach for their knife. If they can strike first, maybe they can be non-lethal –

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, mate,” Ed says, voice coiled like a snake as he wipes another glass clean. “Not a good idea.”

Their hand does not shake. They nod, stare down at the poster again. “Outside, then?”

“What? No, no one’s going outside –“ Stedes smile drops. Jim can’t make sense of the upset on his face, the guilt. “This isn’t – I’m not challenging you to a dual.” He makes a weird sort of grimace at Ed. “I should’ve burned it, shouldn’t I? Oh, I thought maybe I should –“

They don’t understand. They don’t want a duel – don’t want to have to leave, don’t want to have to kill this bright and odd man, don��t want to have to ruin Oluwande’s home – but they will. They will, if they have to, so why is Stede saying no –

Oh. Oh, that’s – that’s worse.

God, they need to leave. They won’t let Stede throw them in prison, won’t let him make them rot behind bars until they finally hang –

They glance at Ed. Stede, they know they can take, with a knife or a gun or even just their bare hands. But Ed – Ed is fucking Blackbeard. And they’re good, they’re very good – but they don’t know if they can beat him. Not with a still healing wound, and not without having seen him fight. And the way he watches them now, nearly lazily, tells them it would be a terrible idea.

“Don’t think so,” Ed says, still cleaning and cleaning his glass. “Think Jim here’s the sort that needs to see it burned themselves.”

Jim grits their teeth. They’re scared, and they don’t understand, and that always makes them angry. “What the fuck are you talking about, burning it?”

“Oh – oh dear.” Stede looks dismayed. “You thought I was bringing you in, didn’t you?”

“Aren’t you?” They spit out, and they barely manage to keep the torrent of curses in.

“No,” Stede says, voice going gentle. “No, I’m not. I’m giving you your bounty poster, so you can destroy it. If new ones come in, and you’re still here – well, we can destroy those ones, too.”

#ofmd fanfic #jim jimenez #tealoranges #cowboy au #tragicallynerdy writes

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mrs-hatake · 2 years

Text

you can't stop magic

pairing: sir crocodile x afab!reader

word count: 937

warning: film red spoilers!

Shinjidai wa kono mirai da…

Y/N sings along to the song that is being projected on the wooden wall from her Den Den Mushi.

She is currently in her living room, furniture pushed against the wall, as she live streams Uta’s debut concert.

Y/N had been dying to attend her concert the second she had discovered Uta’s songs but Sir Crocodile forbade her from doing so as they are still wanted by the Marine and the much older man didn’t want to risk their lives just because they attended some girl’s concert.

Finding a cabin in the mountains was difficult. Finding a remote island that didn’t know who they were or didn’t even care about who they were was a damn miracle.

Sir Crocodile worked too damn hard to ensure their safety and he sure as hell isn’t going to blow up their cover. And Y/N infinite pouts and puppy eyes wouldn’t and couldn’t work on him.

But then stopped talking to him, acting so damn childish that it irked him to no end. Yet he still held his ground.

It was only when Y/N refused to sleep with him, locking herself in their bedroom and forcing Sir Crocodile to sleep on the coach, did he finally give in.

Normally, Sir Crocodile would punish Y/N for acting like fucking brat but he had to admit that Y/N had been isolated for too long in their cabin.

Her life of soirees, glitter and glamor had all came to an end when that stupid Mugiwara had arrived in Alabasta and took down the empire that Sir Crocodile had taken years to build from the ground up.

So, to make it up for Y/N, he bought for her the Den Den Mushi that was streaming the stupid concert.

Her eager kisses and then her spreading those beautiful legs for him was worth the annoying songs he is subjected to.

Are kore iranai mono wa keshite

Y/N continues to sing and Sir Crocodile has half a mind to switch off the live stream so he can finally focus on his paperwork on gun import in peace.

But then suddenly, Y/N’s singing grows weak and tired and her words are slurred.

Looking from the report that appears comically small in his massive hand, Sir Crocodile’s eyebrows furrow at Y/N’s sluggish dance moves.

Just as quickly as Y/N is falling, Sir Crocodile is there to catch her.

“Oi, brat!” Sir Crocodile shakes her shoulders in hopes to arouse her. “This isn’t funny!”

He repeatedly smacks her face, pinches her nose and pulls her eyelids up to no avail.

It’s only when he calls a doctor and barks at him to come right now does Sir Crocodile understand what had happened to Y/N.

That childish singer with her two toned hair is fighting that darned rubber of a man. And Sir Crocodile isn’t sure what they are fighting about but he catches something about trapping all of the singer’s fans into a perfect world where they will no longer suffer.

Sir Crocodile curses and nearly tears the door off its hinges when the doctor finally knocks on it, asking for entry.

“She isn’t in critical condition.” The doctor observes as he continues examining Y/N. “Though, she will be if she can’t eat nor drink.”

“Then fix it.” Sir Crocodile doesn’t yell at the scrawny doctor who barely reaches his chest but there’s a certain lethality dripping in his words that has the doctor shaking in his boots.

“I-I c-can’t!” He squeaks like a mouse standing in front of a hungry cat. “It’s something out of my control!”

The doctor should be thankful that he is only tossed out of the door instead of being killed for not curing Y/N.

Maybe Sir Crocodile has grown soft.

He rapidly watches the livestream as not only the Marine shows up but also Shanks, another annoyance just like that darn Mugiwara.

Y/N is sleeping peacefully in his arms and Sir Crocodile’s agitation grows by the second. Had it not been for his and Y/N’s wanted posters glued to every wall, broadcasted in every Den Den Mushi and printed in every newspaper, then he would have joined the fight.

Sir Crocodile isn’t in love, far from it.

Though, there is something about Y/N that he just can’t live without and, honestly, he doesn’t want to experience that world any time soon.

It's two hours after Y/N had collapsed when the fight is over and the singer sings a quiet song in a broken voice as his lover finally awakens.

“Wh…What?” Her words slur as she blinks the sleepiness away. “...Happened?”

“You were under a hypnosis.” Sir Crocodile answers, the exhaustion in his eyes ages him twenty years.

Y/N’s face scrunched all cutely and her lover doesn’t hold himself back from leaning in to kiss away her confusion.

“Her fault.” He points at the live stream with his head where Shanks is carrying Uta. “Said she wanted you to live in peace. Foolish child.” Sir Crocodile scoffs as tension leaves his body and his back rests against the coach.

Y/N lets out a sound. Though in understanding or just to make a sound to let him know she heard him, Sir Crocodile doesn’t know.

“Fucking bitch.” Y/N mutters sleepily and Sir Crocodile snorts. He’ll drink to that.

“Come, let’s get ready for bed.”

And Sir Crocodile carries his lover to the bathroom to share warm bath with (and maybe torture her with a slow and sensual love making) and going to bed.

#sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x y/n #sir crocodile imagine #op imagine

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episodicnostalgia · 3 months

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Comic Book Break: The End of Venom (but not really even a little bit)

Featured artwork Pencils: Mark Bagley Inks: Randy Emberlin

A few posts ago I talked about how it took roughly a year after my initial introduction to Venom (through the fold-out poster from the interior of “Amazing Spider-man #365”) before I would finally get to read a full issue featuring the character. By that point I had become as well versed on the Symbiote lore as I was able to be without the aid of the internet, which basically meant I was limited to the comics my dad bought me, along with any cursory trivia he’d absorbed from glancing through back issues in the local comic shop. But issues #374 & #375 would finally reward my patience with Spider-man and Venom’s “FINAL CONFRONTATION!” And oh lordy, they did not disappoint.

The story itself is entertaining enough, but it was Mark Bagley’s artwork that really left an impression on me. I mean no disrespect to Todd McFarlane here, but while he may have co-created the character, Bagley’s take was always the definitive version for me. Bagley’s artwork just makes him look so nightmarishly intimidating, and even with ‘the comics code’ censorship guidelines, there was no mistaking with my very-active-imagination what the character was capable of. I do remember feeling incredibly fortunate that I was even allowed to read those issues (my folks were fairly cautious about exposing me to graphic violence), especially considering this would be Venom’s last appearance ever, if the cover was anything to go by. After all, who would just lie about something like that?

Of course, it wouldn’t actually be the last time the those two would cross paths, or even butt heads. In fact, Venom would end up returning only three issues later for the ‘maximum carnage’ saga. But these issues did (sort of) signal a change in the character that would shift his/their motivations moving into Venom’s turn as an anti-hero under the ‘Lethal Protector’ moniker, which I never found as interesting. In theory, it’s a character choice that I could get behind, but sadly Venom became a victim to weak writing and oversaturation. Of course, the irony isn’t lost on me that just as I discovered the character, his relevance in the larger cultural paradigm was about to implode. Thankfully I remained largely oblivious to all for some time, as my continued exposure to Venom would be drip fed to me through back issues or alternative media (e.g. the animated series).

Honestly though, even though these issues were obviously being sold using a cheap marketing ploy, I do think it’s a pretty solid point to ‘end’ the characters story, and least for that particular era. After all, that is the thing with comics books, you kind of have to decide for yourself when to come-and-go.

That’s also part of the fun.

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ahedderick · 1 year

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Running around

Yesterday I had quite a few errands spread across two towns. And then an evening meeting with a prospective art client. The day did not . . entirely go well.

For whatever reason, the high school did not receive yearbooks until after school was completely over? The seniors last day was May 19th, and the rest of the kids got out unusually early on June 2nd. They didn’t have snow days to make up this year, which helped. I went to the school to pick up K’s yearbook. There was a student at the door right in front of me, so we were buzzed in together and walked to the office together. She asked the secretary where the yearbooks were, and was told that they were across the hall beside the guidance office. I didn’t ask the secretary anything - because I had just heard her give the answer. Silly me. I followed the student and we quickly found the teacher giving out yearbooks. ‘Amy’ got hers, and I asked for my daughter’s. Ms. M couldn’t find her on the list. “What grade is she in? Oh, senior’s yearbooks are in the office.” Where I just was. Of course they are. I went back and asked the sec’y for a senior yearbook. They are alphabetized and it still took her a while to find it - but eventually she did.

Off I went to find Mackie’s Sewing Center. It’s been a couple years since I had a machine serviced. I checked Mackie’s out online to be sure of their hours and double check the address. He shares space with a vacuum cleaner store, which by good luck I also needed. My husband bought a new vacuum last year, and I needed more of the (outrageously expensive) bags. I’ll get two things done at once! Yay!

Nope. Mackie’s and the Vacuum store - closed. Sign still out, webpage still advertising - store locked and empty. A random passerby, seeing me standing with a sewing machine in my arms and a puzzled look on my face, informed me that they were - maybe? - a couple miles away near D’s Sporting goods. I sighed. Trudged back to the car. Mackie’s isn’t really in the plaza near D’s. However, if you walk around long enough, you might spot a little poster in the window of the FED-EX store (?!) that says Mackie’s. I went into the Fed-Ex and asked the lady behind the counter. She said I could drop off my sewing machine on a little shelf in the corner, fill out a service tag, and it would be fixed and brought back there. That does solve one problem, but I had also hoped to be able to show him some of the antique machines I want to sell, and get ideas about value and where to sell them. I sighed, filled out the service tag, gave up completely on buying vacuum bags, and slumped dis-spiritedly out of the store.

Off to Staples to get a photo printed. My printer will only print black and white. Since they seem to have a lifespan of 6 months as far as printing full-color photos is concerned, I’m just going to keep the half-functional one that at least prints text and not print my own photos anymore. I asked the lady behind the print desk to print me an 8x10 of this

for my son to enter in an art show. She printed it and the price was quite reasonable. I left and drove home, turning up Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock and Roll" to nearly lethal volume as a form of therapy.

The photo turned out to be a bit bigger than 8x10, and will not fit in the frame we have for it.

#just shitposting #small business #bless their hearts

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commander-krios · 2 years

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Fanfiction Recs 2022

I’ve read a bunch of fabulous fics so far this year and I wanted to shout them out since we are past the halfway point for 2022. Some are old, some are new, some are finished, and others are still active. Under a read more because of length.

I am reading some others fics currently so I’ll probably have another post later in the year for the others I enjoyed.

HEAVY FIRE by @spicyshimmy

Rating: M Pairing: mShenko Summary: Actually based on the merc!Shepard and Spectre!Alenko prompt on the kinkmeme. Earthborn Shepard never makes it into the Alliance. Merc life suits him just fine, as does teaming up with C-Sec officer Garrus Vakarian every now and then. And then he meets Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, poster boy for doing things by the books. It’d been a long day, but at least Garrus was buying.

Cantata by @swaps55

Rating: M Pairing: Pre-mShenko Summary: Whatever Kaidan had been expecting from the Butcher of Torfan, this isn’t it.There’s nothing krogan-like about the soldier sitting at the table. The lethal gaze from the vids is watery and unfocused. The empty bottle in his hand isn’t a gun, but he clutches it like one. When the bartender delivers a fresh one Shepard doesn’t look up, merely pops the top off and takes another quick pull.This isn’t good. ~Sam Shepard and Kaidan Alenko, in the years before the Normandy. AKA, the slowest of slow burns.

Encroachment by @n0rmandysr1

Rating: T Pairing: FemShepley Summary: If Emilia Shepard had known what was waiting for her aboard the SSV Normandy, she might have never walked through the airlock. But for all the struggles ahead, she has a good ship and a good crew. ME1, Paragade Shepard. Multiple character POVs, expanded minor crew and a focus on the off-camera moments. Slowburn f!Shepley.

Sucker’s Luck by @hanarinhightown

Rating: M Pairing: Garrus Vakarian x Lantar Sidonis Summary: Exploring Garrus’ unhealthy relationship with obsession and black/white thinking. Beginning with his time on Omega as he struggles to come to terms with his past, his growing anxiety, his grief about losing Shepard, and how intertwined his relationship to her was with his obsession with Saren. He knows he’s behaving recklessly but if he is going to throw his life away, he can make it mean something. He’s done living his life for himself, but too proud to throw it away for himself either.

Enter Sidonis. The story of Archangel: Angst, ambition, love, betrayal, revenge, forgiveness, acceptance, and the grey spaces in between.

Building off of Mass Effect: Homeworlds #3, story starts on Omega and builds through the plots of Mass Effect 2 and 3. Garrus x Sidonis. Will update tags as they become relevant.

Collide by @mallaidhsomo

Rating: E Pairing: Ashley Williams/Kaidan Alenko Summary: Ashley and Kaidan's domestic bubble on Horizon is burst. Ashley sees a ghost.

Orbit by @eluvisen

Rating: T Pairing: Female Revan/Carth Onasi Summary: A series of moments in Carth and Velire’s relationship as they’re thrown together by forces beyond their control.

this madness of the heart by @sleepswithvillains

Rating: E Pairing: Female Sith Warrior/Malavai Quinn Summary: Malavai Quinn grew up on stories about serving the Sith. He devoured the great literary epics about the Force-blind soldier, being taken into the service of a Sith Lord. The hero falls to his knees, professes his devotion, pledges his service—and after he proves himself worthy, the Sith takes him into their home, under their protection—a treasured companion, a trusted ally.But he knew now how that story really ended.

He’d knelt on the filthy floor of the Balmorran spaceport and pledged himself to a Sith’s service—earnestly, half feeling like he’d walked out an epic poem himself—and look where that had gotten him. He’d been mocked, belittled—and his service had been cast aside as worthless. For three years, he dedicated nearly every waking minute of his life to the success of both Lord Baras and the Sith warrior, and all it had yielded was forty-seven pieces of shrapnel from his knee to his hip.And now, at forty-one, he finds himself in dire financial straights—with no choice but to enter an arranged marriage in the hopes of saving his family's estate. When a young, rising Sith Lord makes an offer he can't afford to refuse, he has no choice but to accept—no matter how many terrifying rumors surround her.

Regarding Red by @kalliesa

Rating: M Pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian Summary: Aria has hired an interesting new enforcer; a human soldier with no memory. She is skilled in combat and infiltration, and has a hunger to eradicate the evil from Omega. Archangel has a similar mission. Can they work together? Or will they just get in each other's way?

The End Is Where We Begin by @shadoedseptmbr & @nightmarestudio606

Rating: E Pairing: Female Shepard/Male Shepard Summary: People meet and paths cross all the time, but in her experience, they don't always intersect again. So when they do and this Mark fella is in her crosshairs again, Aedan Shepard is curious to see what will come of it in the end.

A Hundred Battlefields by @iberiandoctor

Rating: M Pairing: mShenko Summary: Through the ages, in different lives, they’d fought by each other’s sides, and died in each other’s arms, on a hundred battlefields before this one.

The Shepard’s Dog by @cryptid-jack

Rating: M Pairing: mShenko Summary: Devastated and suffering a bad case of survivor's guilt after the destruction of the SR1, Kaidan is offered a chance at redemption when Liara reaches out for his help to recover Shepard's body. When Cerberus claims they can bring the commander back, Kaidan and Liara agree to hand him over on one condition: Kaidan goes with them to keep watch over Shepard while they work.

#fanfiction #fic recs #fic recs 2022 #mass effect #star wars: knights of the old republic #kotor #swtor #star wars: the old republic

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nehswritesstuffs · 1 year

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except I walked out on you when your hair was starlight

I’ve been thinking about this potential theory for a long while now (I mean, like, since last year) and I can’t help but think that it’s one of the wilder things that might come even slightly true because it just aligns perfectly with what we currently know about the Monkey Dads just being very distant fathers who end up pulling the same shit.

9122 words; pure crackfic unless proven otherwise; has anyone else thought of this bc pls where are you I want to talk to you if you have; this is very much not my usual fare when it comes to relationship and family dynamics so don’t expect, like, actual parenting; I very much expect this to be considered null and void within five chapters of canon (very specifically 1084 lol) so pls humor me okay; is it canon compliant? We’ll find out; general warning for timeskips and me just making shit up

except I walked out on you when your hair was starlight; All Dragon wants to do is bring about a more just world by exposing the World Government for what it really is. He doesn’t have the wherewithal to deal with a child’s bounty poster that looks disturbingly like his ex. [9122 words; alternate interpretation as to why the Buster Call at Ohara was the last straw]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“You shouldn’t be here,” Clover said. Dragon shrugged casually at that.

“You’ve never been upset to see me before,” he reasoned. The young man casually leaned on the desk, giving the scholar a smirk. “I’m here to see Olvia. She around?”

“Even if she was, why would I let you see her?” Clover huffed. “Last time you were here you nearly got bodily fluid on priceless tomes of knowledge.”

“I am not the first person to have gotten lucky in this tree, and you’re just jealous it was never you,” the young man smirked. A certain platinum blonde then caught his eye and Dragon made his way around the desk and over to her side, done with pleasantries. “Old Man Clover’s bullying me.”

“Now why would he need to do that?” she wondered idly.

Oh, she knew.

“He’s jealous,” he offered.

“Professor Clover is one of the most renown archaeologists in the entire world; what would you have that he could be jealous of?”

A functioning libido, but they weren’t going to go there with other people nearby.

“Maybe,” she smirked, “I’ll have to study this condition of yours. Make sure it’s not… lethal.”

“Read my mind; pick you up at seven?”

“Seven-thirty—there’s a meeting I can’t skip again.”

“Fair.” He leaned down and pressed a light kiss against her cheek, a giggle getting out of her before walking away. “Seven-thirty!”

“Oh, and Dragon?”

He turned around, only to see the library in flames.

“Run.”

Gasping for air, Dragon sat upright in his bed, his body slick with sweat. He shakily looked around the room in the darkness—Baltigo, not Ohara.

Besides, Ohara burned ten years ago.

After turning off his alarm—it was fuck-all ‘o clock—Dragon decided it was good a time as any to get a head start on his work for the day. A full day of work would make him sleep solidly, and solid sleep meant no dreams, and no dreams meant no ghosts. He put his feet on the floor and shivered—there was nothing that could be done about the chill that seeped into the base, no matter what they did to prevent it.

The base was usually quiet around this time, thankfully, allowing Dragon to slip down the corridors relatively unnoticed. There was always the skeleton crew that kept an eye on things at night, but even they knew better than to bother their commander with anything more than a polite nod unless it was a real emergency. He was able to get to the showers and stood under the spray for a whole ten minutes before actually doing anything.

Did he feel guilty? Of course he did, but Ohara wasn’t coming back, even if its knowledge was all saved.

Then again, that’s why they were there, he reminded himself as he scrubbed his face. Ohara had been the last straw and now someone was fighting back. He’d told Vegapunk those years ago that it was because of Clover… because of the severe loss of knowledge and human life… but really… how many wars over the course of history had been waged for a woman?

Fuck.

In the end, an ex was just an ex, weren’t they? They both moved on. He had moved on.

So why was it getting to him?

Clothes, a shave, some coffee; before long, Dragon was sitting down at his desk, the dawn twilight not yet creeping across the sky. He looked at the pile of papers that had been placed in a very important pile since he’d last been in his office and grimaced—something told him he would have given the top spot to that organizational freak Bart had he known there was this much fucking paperwork involved with running a revolution. Taking the top one off the pile, he slowly started to clear out the backlog that admittedly had been growing for a few days at this point. Getting lost in work was usually fairly easy for him, and yet, he couldn’t help thinking about the real reason why he founded this seas-forsaken venture…

“They said you didn’t eat breakfast!”

Dragon snapped out of his daze as a tray was placed on his desk, culprit tilting his head in curiosity. Fuck the kid could move quieter than a cat.

“Oh, thank you, Sabo,” he said, blinking heavily. The kid’s bandages had recently been taken off and he could see the fresh burn scars, pink and shiny and raw; it pissed him off every time he saw it, and not because he hated the kid. It was almost impossible to hate someone who brought him coffee and a sandwich at… ah, shit, the sun was well past being up. “Iva hunting me yet?”

“Nah; they said they were gonna let you relax today,” the boy replied. He looked at the pile of papers that barely had a dent in it and frowned. “That’s a lot of bounty posters.”

“Yeah—I haven’t seen a lot of them either, which is really saying something,” Dragon frowned.

“Why’s that?”

“These are reissues; every so often, the World Government will reissue bounty posters of those whom they consider dangerous, even if they haven’t heard of them in a while.” He took the top one off the stack and handed it to the boy. “That one’s been circulating since I was younger than you.”

“Humming Brook… he’d be an old man by now, wouldn’t he?”

“He would.” He watched the kid’s expression—he was sharp for being only ten years old. “Does this… help at all…?”

“Not really,” Sabo admitted, handing back the poster. “I still can’t really remember that much from before.”

“It’ll come in time,” Dragon said, unsure if he was lying to the boy. The kid stood there awkwardly; neither of them knew what to do with him. If only dumping him with his dad wouldn’t mean putting him within arm’s reach of the Marines… “Say, go through these and rank them by potential for recruitment. Let me know what you think.” He took a chunk of the bounty posters and handed them to Sabo. “Just… rank them.”

“Yes, sir!” Sabo left the room and Dragon instantly felt exhausted. He hated to think what it would have been like had he been able to take his son along like planned… it was tiresome just thinking about it.

Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a little bit… yeah. That would be good.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was ironic how if someone would ask Dragon what his dreams were, he could easily say any number of things. Toppling the World Government? True peace? An unveiling of all the dirty laundry that was the Void Century’s secrets? A society designed to lift up and support everyone and not the select few? Having the ability to tell his father off to his face? He had a veritable list ready and waiting.

Except, sometimes, dreams weren’t goals and ambitions. They were places one’s brain went when they were at their most vulnerable, gripping them at their core and forcing someone to relive the impossible time and time again.

What truly were Dragon’s dreams?

He didn’t like to think about it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“What are you thinking about?”

Dragon looked over at Olvia and saw her face remained calm in thought as she stared up at the night sky. All he could think about was how gorgeous she looked in the starlight, the galaxies reflected in her eyes as they laid on the deck of his boat.

“There’s an expedition that Clover wants me to co-chair.” Ah. “It would be about a year.”

“Don’t say you’re breaking up with me, because you know I’ll just follow you.”

“Actually, I petitioned the professor to let you come along.”

“You did?! And…?!” He waited for a response. “Olvia…? What did Old Man Clover say…?”

She finally turned her head and looked at him, her expression sharp and steady as ever. “Wake up.”

“…that was rude of him.”

“No, sir, wake up.”

For the second time that day, Dragon shuddered awake, this time being jostled by Sabo. The boy jumped back as he flung himself forward towards his desk, the present world grabbing hold of him in a vice grip. Dragon quickly caught his breath and rubbed his face with both hands—fuck, this was getting bad. He looked at Sabo and saw that the kid’s eyes were wide and confused.

“I… uh… sorry…” he squeaked.

“No, no; it’s alright,” Dragon replied. He tried to shake the sleep from his body, only making it more of a shiver instead. “Does someone need me?”

“No, sir. I have what you asked of me.” The boy held aloft the stack of bounty posters and their prior conversation came flooding back to the man. That’s right—the bounty re-issues from around the time he was too busy founding an army to pay attention to who was up next for his father’s bosses’ chopping block. “I triple-checked; there’s only three good ones out of the entire lot.”

“Are there now?”

“Yeah—most of the people this stack are either really old or already spoken-for in a pirate organization.” Sabo put most of the stack on the desk face-down, holding back three papers.

“How do you know that?”

“I cross-referenced everything with our database; some of the duds are officers in the Big Mom Pirates, or with someone called Doflamingo in the North; I doubt they’d change alliances too swiftly based on their established levels of loyalty.”

“Keep this up kid and you might be gunning for Iva’s spot,” Dragon frowned. He took a sip of his coffee—ice cold—and watched the boy’s face brighten.

“Oh, I don’t want to be the G Army Commander,” Sabo beamed. “I want to be the Chief of Staff!”

Dragon was neither awake nor drunk enough for this. “…and what does that entail?”

“Doing important things for you!”

“Sabo… you won’t even officially be a member until you’re sixteen,” he chided. “Just… show me the candidates.”

“Okay!” The kid put the first page down. “This one is called Karasu. He’s from the North and got his bounty by beating up Marines that were bullying some civilians. I think he’d be a good match.” Dragon nodded with a grunt; okay. “This one is Waters Lila. She’s Southern and is known for breaking up slaver ships en route to Sabaody. If we get her, we’d likely get her whole crew as well—forty-strong at last estimate, many former slaves themselves.” He then hesitated, staring at the last poster.

“Yes…?” Yeah… definitely not drunk enough.

“I don’t know about her, but I think it’s a good chance if we can find her,” Sabo nodded.

Dragon raised an eyebrow. “If we can find her?”

“She was younger than me when she got her bounty, so I don’t know if she still looks the same.”

“Younger than you…? Those were the ten-year re-releases.”

“Well, she apparently wants to destroy the world according to the rumors, so there is that. I would too if I sank six ships to survive a Buster Call.”

“She what…?”

“Yeah,” Sabo exclaimed, placing the poster down. “Apparently she’s from the West Blue, from this island of people who were…” Dragon stared at the photo on the page in horror, Sabo’s voice fading into nothing.

WANTED – DEMON CHILD NICO ROBIN – DEAD OR ALIVE

80 MILLION BERRI

APPROACH WITH EXTREME CAUTION

Before him was the image of a small child, just a little older than his son was if he remembered correctly. His brow furrowed as he studied her face—there was no way she was anything other than Olvia’s blood. Her brother’s daughter, perhaps? It made him nauseous to think someone this small was listed for so much, so young.

“Sabo…?”

“Yes, sir?”

“How old would she be now? If she walked in through the door?”

“Eighteen!” the boy chirped. “I really think that she’s the best bet out of the lot—she has a pedigree.”

“I’m going to pretend you did not use that word,” he grimaced. Yeah, the kid was former nobility alright whether he hated it or not.

“Oh… well… her mom was pretty famous too! I found her bounty in the archives.” He took the top poster off the upside-down stack and held it out, making Dragon want to vomit.

Olvia.

It wasn’t her niece.

Oh, fuck, no…

Olvia’s daughter.

The only survivor of Ohara was Nico Olvia’s daughter.

A daughter who had her face, yet his coloring.

Seas almighty.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“What the hell is your problem?!” he hissed at her. She had been sitting at her desk in the ship, a lantern illuminating the papers that were scattered everywhere. The rest of the expedition party had either long-since retired for the evening, or were on the shore around the bonfire—it was just them.

“I’m only doing my job. You knew that’s what this entire trip was about.” She hadn’t even looked away from the book and that seemed to just depress him more.

“Those have been here for hundreds of years; they’ll still be there in the morning.”

“I need to get this done before we ship out—there’s only two more days.”

“Two more days here, a week there, some hours elsewhere; it doesn’t end! It’s been three years of this!”

She put down her pen at that, closing her eyes to steel herself. “You knew what this was before we left Ohara.”

“I didn’t leave Ohara thinking I’d be ignored… that I’d go to bed alone most nights… that on the rare nights we are together, you’re too distracted to even fake it.” She stood, furious. “Oh, hey, an emotion—nice to see them again.”

“How dare you…”

“I think it’s the other way around, Olvia—we should have called it off while you were out on this stupid thing…”

“I thought you were behind what we were doing!”

“…when it didn’t mean I was being ignored by the woman I love!” He hunched his shoulders as he held hers, looking into her eyes. They were so fierce… so determined then that he had nearly lost himself in them. “I’m here now, Olvia. I…” He swallowed. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, playing second-fiddle to whispers and rocks.”

“We’re almost done. Just a few months and…”

“No.” His voice was quiet then—defeated, even—as realization settled on him. “We’re done.”

Tears ran down both their faces as he kissed her one final time.

When she went to bed that night, she went alone.

He was gone.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

All Ivankov knew was that Dragon was having a crisis.

He’d have those every once in a while in private, threatening to crack under the pressure of leadership. It was generally nothing, where he’d just do frantic laps of his office while attempting to talk himself out of whatever corner his assorted demons had shoved him into. If they were being particularly honest with themselves, it would have been a more troubling thing had Dragon not had a crisis now and then, given the sheer amount of pressure and obstacles that came from raising a revolution. All they, or Kuma, or both, had to do was simply stay with him until he calmed down and things would eventually be better again.

It had been nearly a whole day—he was not getting better.

“This is awful,” the man muttered for the fifty-second time that day. Ivankov poured themselves some tea from the service and raised a perfectly-manicured eyebrow.

“Are you havingk problems zat my Hormones vould fix?”

“No… just… fuck!” Dragon stopped his pacing long enough to take a swing at thin air before grabbing at his hair again. “I can’t believe I did that—fuck—how could I have done that?!”

Ivankov sipped their tea.

“Fucking hell, Iva! I’m having a mental breakdown here!”

“I can see,” they replied flatly. “You’re ze one vho seems to be very mum on details.” Dragon stopped moving and stared at his friend and comrade, nearly at his breaking point.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“You know I keep your secrets.”

“No, Iva… this isn’t a normal secret. This is a something that, should you ‘learn’ about it in the future, you need to pretend that this conversation never, ever happened.”

“Vhat is so drastick that I need to play ze fool?”

“I think… I think I have a daughter,” he said, his tongue feeling thick as he spoke. “I think I walked out on my daughter.”

“You don’t have a daughter.”

“…but I walked out on this woman nineteen years ago.” Dragon took the bounty posters from his desk and showed it to Ivankov, who took put down their tea before taking the papers. “That child—her child—is now eighteen.”

“Her fazer could have been a rebound and ve vould not blame zis Olvia one bit.”

“Iva, I walked because she was too busy with those damned Poneglyphs to give me the time of day—any time we did…” Dragon exhaled heavily. “She was always too out of it to concentrate on us, so I left. I can almost guarantee there was no rebound.”

“Zis is vhy you people are exhaustingk,” Ivankov sighed. “How did you know eachozer?”

“She… was from Ohara… was one of Old Man Clover’s top researchers…”

“…and so, vhen you vent to investigate Clover’s knowledge assets—drawn in by the pursuit of zingks your fazer kept you from—you fell in love viz a girl instead…? How cliché, candy.” They put the papers down on the low table and went back to their tea. “You know for a fact she is yours?”

“I had Sabo research a stack of re-issued bounties—if her registry information’s correct, she was born six months after I last saw her mother. Olvia was distant, but she didn’t sleep around.” He rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. “Fuck…”

“Vhat does her registry information say about her fazer?”

“Dead.” They had to hand it to themselves—Ivankov didn’t think that finally getting information about Dragon’s past meant that he was going to spill it all… or if he was spilling this now, it was titillating to think of what else the man might have been hiding. “She made it look like she got married, never changed her name, and quickly became a widow. I’m sure that’s why… she has her family name instead of mine.”

“I’d imagine it’d be rough on a child, carrying a name zey had no connection to,” Ivankov shrugged. “Besides, if she had your name, that fazer of yours vould have kidnapped her longk ago.”

“Bad enough what he does have,” Dragon grumbled. Ivankov waited for an explanation and never got one—it was folly to think they were getting any more out of their friend than this very specific and embarrassing tidbit. They watched as he stopped moving, instead putting his hands on his waist. “So… what do we do…?”

“Not vhat ve do… but vhat you do.” They regarded him carefully. “You alvays know vhat to do. Vill you admit to everyone zat zis is revenge for a former lover? Zat zis child is more zan ze last of her kind? Or vill you do somezingk else? Somezingk interestingk?”

“Olvia wasn’t my lover, Iva—I would have married her if I could.”

“Zat is not here nor zere. Now: vhat vill you do?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“What will you do?”

It was a simple enough question—the royal brat and his footman were due back in the sandpit soon, so he didn’t blame her for wondering. It was just him and Olvia in his room, the pair having snuck up there while Clover was regaling the students with drunkenly-told tales of his adventures. They were sharing a bottle of cheap wine at the table by his window—no other activities until they heard their heavy-sleepers of charges snoring the next room over.

“Not sure,” he shrugged. He looked out the window at the night sky, knowing that soon the view would change. “This place… it fits, you know?”

“For technically being here as a bodyguard, you sure are quite the pacifist,” she replied. Olvia took a sip of her drink and let out a low huff. “It’s honestly more interesting with you here.”

“Then maybe… I can come back…?”

“…to do what?” He turned his gaze to her and saw that her expression was now completely deadpan. “You’re smart, yes, but you’re no scholar. The Professor does not take too kindly to lightweights.”

“Is that what he refers to people who’ve had sex as?” he asked. She nearly choked on her drink. “I just want to be with you.”

“I know.” She saw a flicker of something cross his face, with it leaving as quickly as it came. “What…?”

“If I could just stay here, I would. Let the kids find their own way back home. It’s peaceful here… serene… like nothing bad will happen here.”

“Oh, it shall eventually,” she shrugged. “Things always happen.”

“Not like…” he paused, “not like what I’m used to with my father. There’s a certain unease in the air in a lot of places he’s sent me to, and none of it shows up here. Yeah, there’s people being petty and bad storms and the occasional drought of traders, but it’s not…” he sighed, “this place is calming, Olvia. There’s no real hostility.”

“Then maybe it would do you some good to return here,” she agreed. “Though I have to warn you: I get buried in my work when I’m not tutoring.”

“I think I can handle that; that might be when you’re the most gorgeous.”

“You don’t need to flatter me—you know what we’re doing later.”

“Doesn’t hurt to have a little extra insurance on the matter,” he winked. She giggled and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “How much time do we have again?”

“Not enough.”

“Hmm… I think it’s enough.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It’s easy to leave someone when you realize that you can’t stand one another. Sure, actually doing it might not be easy, but once you’re gone, the effort to purge them from your life is cathartic in its own way. It’s a refusal to give them power, as they never should have had any to begin with.

Conversely, it’s difficult to leave someone you’re still in love with, mostly because it is that much of a challenge to forget. It’s still wanting them there, despite their deep, deep flaws, and yet remembering the pain of why that is simply not possible. It hurts and claws at the heart, burning and stabbing until there is nothing that doesn’t make you think of them.

What’s worse yet is when you’re both still in love, and yet they don’t stop you.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Revolutionary Army Dispatch

Official Memo from the Desk of Founder and Supreme Commander Monkey D. Dragon

The following Legacy Bounty Individuals (LBI) are to be actively recruited into the ranks. Any contact with such Legacy Bounty Individuals needs to be reported to the appropriate level of hierarchy.

-_-_-

Karasu

Age at Bounty: 25

Current Age: 35

Origin: North Blue

Current Location: North Blue (confirmed)

Devil Fruit: unknown type – appears corvid-centric – proceed with caution until confirmation

Crimes: contempt of law; resisting arrest; repeated destruction of Marine bases; torture of varying Marine officers; coordinating largest mass-release of inmates in the North Blue in 200 years

-_-_-

Waters Lila

Age at Bounty: 47

Current Age: 57

Origin: South Blue

Current Location: Grand Line, Paradise (confirmed)

Devil Fruit: none known

Crimes: grand theft; destruction of slaver ships; being impossible to arrest; harboring runaway slaves; cussing out Celestial Dragons; repeated escape from Celestial Dragon “owners”

-_-_-

Nico Robin

Age at Bounty: 8

Current Age: 18

Origin: West Blue

Current Location: unknown; potentially West Blue or Grand Line

Devil Fruit: Paramecia – can replicate limbs elsewhere

Crimes: only surviving member of the Archaeological Scholarly Association of Ohara; can read Poneglyphs; evading arrest; varying smaller crimes related to survival

HIGH PRIORITY – report directly to Supreme Commander if contact is made – capable of becoming the Light of the Revolution

-_-_-

May we stay strong in the face of our uncertain times.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Ten years.

It took ten years before Dragon heard any more solid news of Nico Robin. He had to hand it to her—she was a difficult woman to catch. Most of what he’d heard were whispers. A few people even saw her, but no one was able to get in a conversation long enough to convince her to join their ranks.

She was still alive, however. No matter what, Olvia’s daughter was still alive, and some days it was all he could do to be proud.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“I have to say, sir, you sure do know how to pick them.”

Dragon was laying down on a camping cot, the tent he was currently occupying in the far-reaching backwaters of the East, the backdrop of a civilian uprising in the distance. Sabo and Belo Betty had insisted on helming this charge, which left him sulking back at camp with a cold compress over his eyes as he fought off an impending headache in the command tent.

“What do you mean, Ahiru?” He heard the young woman’s mechanical arm click and whir as it handled papers at the table.

“One of your High Priority LBIs just had war declared on the Government for her.”

“You know Sabo has been making over half that list for years now.”

“She’s been on the list for a long while,” she replied.

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Nico Robin.”

Dragon sat up immediately, the compress falling to the ground. “What…? Who declared war for her?”

“The crew she’s with now,” the young woman said. She held out the newspaper as her boss stood and crossed the room. “A rookie crew from these waters, it seems.”

A small gasp left Dragon without him even realizing it: the Straw Hat Pirates.

Robin found Luffy.

His children found one another.

“…sir…?” He looked at her and saw the concern on her face. “Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just…” Ahiru gave a nod, avoiding eye contact. “It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.” Good—he did always appreciate her discretion.

He looked back at the newspaper in his hand and allowed himself a breath of relief. After everything, his children were still finding their family—finding each other—despite his own failings.

Maybe… maybe this was how things were supposed to go.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The kids he was supposed to be babysitting were off with the old man on the first of many “field trips” to the bar when he first made his move. She was in his room going over their academic progress when he allowed his hand to reach across the table and rest atop hers. One of her eyebrows arched, curious.

“Bold,” she noted with a smirk, “but is it bold enough?”

In retrospect, it had been a miracle in of itself that they had gotten themselves put back together in time for her skunk-drunk boss to bring back his equally-drunk charges. The trio were so drunk, they found, that they completely ignored the fact they still smelled of sex and her blouse was on inside-out.

What they didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt them, right? Besides, all it took was twenty minutes and they smelled like the kids’ vomit instead.

None of this was going into the report.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

There were times where Emporio Ivankov, Ruler of Kamabakka Queendom, Founder of the Revolutionary Army, Establishing Force behind New Kama Land, really did not enjoy dealing with their varying colleagues. Out of them all, the best—also the worst—was Monkey D. Dragon. He wasn’t even all that easy on the eyes, and yet his drama was nothing they wanted to ever touch.

Except, it kept finding them.

“You. Office. Now.”

They didn’t even break stride as they entered headquarters for the first time in years, simply walking by Dragon as he was discussing something with Lindbergh and Hack. Inazuma seamlessly inserted herself into the situation instead, allowing Dragon to grouchily follow Ivankov to their office looking extremely cowed. Newer recruits could only gawk—so this was the power of the legendary Okama Commander?

“Any ozer spawn you have running around I should know about?!” Ivankov hissed. Fuck… the door was barely closed…

“Iva…”

“Don’t you Iva me,” they scolded. “I should not learn you have a son because I am savingk his life in Impel Down! Vhat is viz you?!”

“Thank you, by the way,” Dragon said. “You did an excellent job keeping Luffy alive.”

“You tell me to not pry into your past, and yet your past keeps poppingk up in ze oddest places. Vhy are you like zis?!”

“We all agreed to bring as little of our baggage into this job as possible,” he claimed.

“Havingk people ve care about is not baggage!” they argued. “Sharingk stories about our lives is not baggage!”

“If anyone knew about my family, that’d put a target on their backs they might not want!”

“Even from your friends and comrades?!”

“Yes, Iva! Everyone!”

“Tch… no vonder you vere never told about the girl…”

“Iva!”

“Zese are your secrets, Dragon! First, you have a daughter from an old flame, now zis boy one of my candies finds in Impel Down is your son?! Vhat more is zere?!”

“You know I can’t tell you that!”

“Then vhat can you tell me?!”

“That as the figurehead of this entire operation, I can’t be seen as having any potential weaknesses! I come in with nothing so I can leave nothing behind! There is nothing to complicate things! A venture was never compromised because they kidnapped my son and held him at ransom! By him remaining far away, we all were safe.”

Ivankov huffed, their scowl pointed and accusatory. “I believe in zis, and I believe in you, so you better not make me regret anyzingk from here on out. Ve cannot afford to be fightingk.”

“I’m trying, Iva,” Dragon assured. “You know that’s all any of us can do.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Sir…? The Tequila Wolf contingent has returned.”

Dragon glanced up from his coffee to see the fresh recruit standing there in the doorway of his office, absolutely quaking in his boots. It was almost adorable how the newbies were so easily categorized into either Hilariously Overzealous or Scared Shitless, with this one solidly in the latter category.

“Usually the leaders of such an expedition report to me themselves that they’re back,” Dragon noted. “Why did they send you?”

“There’s a bit of a commotion, sir,” the recruit admitted. “They were able to find a High Priority LBI while freeing the slaves.”

“Now who would that be?”

“Uh… Nico Robin of the Straw Hat Pirates, sir.”

Dragon’s stomach found his throat as he paused, taking the information in. After vanishing into nothingness on Sabaody, she was now there, in Baltigo. Ten long years and she was finally there, in the same building as him; it was terrifying to think of.

“Send her up once she’s been given the orientation,” he requested, keeping his stoic mask. “High Priorities always need a briefing from me personally as to discuss what they might bring to our cause.” It was the truth and the recruit saluted before leaving.

The wait was honestly one of the worst stretches of time in his life. Dragon wasn’t entirely certain whether was pacing for a few minutes or a few hours, but eventually there was a knock at the door and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He breathed deeply and collected himself.

“Come in.”

Olvia’s ghost walked in, almost as though no time had passed at all.

“Please close the door; I’d prefer this conversation to be private.”

“Since you asked nicely,” she nodded. Robin gently shut the door and took a few steps into the room, unsure if she should sit or remain standing like Dragon. “I hear you often debrief new additions and allies yourself. It’s commendable to be so active in the base of your organization.”

“I cannot do it on my own,” he claimed. She watched him as he walked over to the window, using it as an excuse to not look at her directly. “Does this mean you are going to join my ranks?”

“Consider me a loan of sorts,” she chuckled. “I have some time to burn while waiting to reunite with my crew and I might as well do something worth while in the meantime.” He could see her reflection in the glass; it was scary how much she looked like her mother. “Your son is something of a tricky individual to follow; it’s just a matter of chance that I’m keeping my alliances in the family.”

Oh, how little she knew despite how well she was informed.

“Has… anyone ever told you why we founded the Revolutionary Army?”

“…to rise up against the tyranny of the World Government,” she replied. He was silent. “Then again, something tells me that there’s more to it than that. There always is.” She watched him, pensive. “What was the final straw that drove you? A scuffle with the Marine Hero?”

“He barely cares about what he does on a daily basis, let alone care what I do enough to get into that big of a fight… no.” He did not turn around, instead preferring to look out the window. “It was Ohara.”

It was slight, but he heard her inhale slightly.

“What was your connection to Ohara?” Robin asked, her voice wavering slightly.

“I spent a lot of time there when I was younger than you are now,” he admitted. He sighed, then opened his mouth to talk again, only for Robin to grab his arm and turn him around to face her, eyes wild in shock.

“Did you know my mother?!”

“I… I fell in love with your mother.”

She let go of his arm and took a step back. “…oh. That must have been difficult.”

“It was,” he agreed. “Olvia was a wonderful woman. Sharp-witted, dedicated, kind, insurmountably intelligent…” He smiled to himself, letting his gaze slip out of focus towards a bit of wall. “She had hair like starlight and eyes that would reflect the galaxies.”

“Did she ever…?” Her question trailed off, unsure if she wanted to give life to the words herself.

“Your mother’s true love was knowledge, and by extension, her research. She had no room for me, so I left.”

She scoffed at that, almost relieved. “What do you have to be sorry about? It happened a long time ago.”

“Summer 1493, if you want to be precise about it.”

The only sound was the steady ticking of the clock on the mantle. Dragon focused his eyes again and looked at Robin, seeing the careful, calculating face he’d last seen over twenty-five years ago. She eventually nodded—everything fit.

“You didn’t know, did you?”

“I didn’t, though I don’t know how much good I would have been had I known and stayed.”

“You would have been there.”

“You’ve met my father—do you think I would have let him raise Luffy if I didn’t think it was the better choice?”

“That is true…” She looked him in the eyes, as though she was trying to see where the crack in the lie was. “What brought you to Ohara in the first place?”

“Initially? Babysitting. When all was said and done, it pissed off my father that I was in love, so I went back.”

“Then it is not just him that Luffy gets his defiance streak from,” she noted.

“I’m the one running a Revolution and you thought he got that from my father?”

“Merely an observation.” She smiled lightly at him, an expression so her mother that it nearly made him hug her. “Now, I think we have some negotiating involving the terms of my stay?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Babysitting was a drag.

According to Aunt Tsuru, his dad owed the Queen of Alabasta a favor or eight and now it was Dragon’s turn to fulfill a request, as it involved the prince and his footman and not the old broad herself.

“We’re almost there!” the fifteen-year-old prince beamed. He turned towards his servant with a wide grin across his face. “Can you imagine?! That tree is thousands of years old! It doesn’t even have the Alabastian climate to help preserve it! Something that old! Still alive!”

“It truly is something, milord,” the young servant agreed. Igaram…? Yeah, Igaram and Prince Cobra. They were almost the exact same age and yet the difference between them was vast. Even though the princeling wasn’t an asshole about it, there was still that chasm Dragon knew was there… even if it was the footman that kept it there.

“Go pack up your shit,” Dragon said. “We’re going to be living on the island while we’re here, so you can’t leave shit onboard where it can be stolen.”

“Gotcha!” Cobra dashed below deck of the small clinker-built cog, Igaram close behind him insisting on doing it for him. Dragon rolled his eyes—this was honestly the last thing he wanted to be doing, but his father was… persuasive.

With his fists. The Hero of the Marines beat his son in a fistfight. Fuck.

It took another half an hour to get into the harbor at Ohara. It was a lively town, with the Tree of Knowledge dominating the landscape. Since he was contracted to be the teens’ bodyguard, Dragon went with Prince Cobra and Igaram as they went to the massive library that was carved into the tree itself, the entire building a living testament to knowledge.

“Ah, there you are.” Dragon saw a middle-aged man approach them as they entered the trunk. “Prince Cobra, I presume?”

“Yes; you must be Professor Clover?”

“That I am!” Dragon fought back rolling his eyes—everyone here was a nerd. “Queen Ouraeus told me you are almost as thirsty for knowledge as myself.”

“Indeed,” Cobra confirmed. “I have to be knowledgeable to become a great king one day, and Mother said you were one of the cleverest and learned men she’s ever met. It will be an honor to learn under you.”

“In that regard, I have to apologize,” Clover said. “Most of your tutoring will be conducted by one of my top pupils, who shall report to me on your progress. I’ve already written your mother and she has given her permission.”

“It must be difficult running this place,” Igaram noted, still staring at the interworkings of the library as they milled about.

“It is, unfortunately,” Clover sighed. “My apologies; you must be young Mister Igaram, which makes you…”

“Dragon—their babysitter.”

“Bodyguard,” the prince corrected. “He comes highly recommended from several high-ranking Marines as trustworthy.”

“Do you now…?”

“The Marine’s my old man, who can fuck off for all I care.” There was something about this Clover man that made him seem guarded… something wasn’t entirely legit. “I think he’s hoping his wayward son straightens himself out on this mission or some shit like that.”

“Then I’m sure we’ll get on splendidly,” Clover nodded. He then waved someone over, who gathered her books from the desk and approached them. “This is the one who is going to teach you lads.”

“Oh… I can’t…!” Igaram panicked. “I’m just here so His Highness…!”

“Nonsense—the Queen requested both of you be tutored,” Clover insisted. “This is Olvia-san. She is one of the most brilliant minds on this island and a native of Ohara. I leave your education in her care.”

Dragon swallowed hard—the young woman who walked up to them was one of the most gorgeous people he’d ever seen. Her brown eyes were the color of warm, lacquered wood and her platinum-blonde hair almost seemed to shimmer against her sun-bronzed skin.

“It is a pleasure to welcome the Alabastian delegation to our humble halls,” she said sweetly. Clover noticed that all three newcomers seemed overcome by her presence, which gave him an idea.

“How about if I take our newest young scholars on a tour of the library?” he offered. “Olvia, you can discuss the accommodations with their bodyguard. We can do the initial assessment after lunch.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” she agreed. Clover took the two teens with him and went off into the library, while Dragon stood awkwardly next to Olvia. “Would you like to see where you and your prince shall be staying?”

“He’s not my prince,” Dragon blurted out. “I mean… uh… my dad owes his mom some favors. It’s… complicated.”

“That must be awkward.”

“A little, but…” he shrugged, “you know.”

She gave a slight chuckle at that, the corner of her mouth tugging up in a smile. “Let me show you to the dorms.”

He nodded—what else could he do?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was difficult having Robin around, all things considered. Although she fit in amongst the other Revolutionaries with wonderful ease, there was still the fact that Dragon could not look at her without feeling a pang of regret. He hated the feeling, but did not avoid her. It was difficult, yet he knew that bringing her into the organization after such a long effort only to ignore her would be suspicious… too suspicious for him to counter. He instead kept on, as though the woman was not the mirror image of his long-lost love. Hers was not the face he waged this war over, nor was it the one that would lob the final volley.

Their venture had grown much larger than Olvia’s memory, and yet to have her daughter in their midst? However temporary? It was priceless.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The rest of the day went by in a whirl. Cobra and Igaram were going to share a room during their yearlong academic retreat, with Dragon getting an adjoining one to himself. He followed along as Olvia showed him around the tree’s internal chambers—where she would be tutoring the teens to where the kitchens were—and it was extremely difficult to keep his mind on her words and not drift off into a daydream.

Seas, she was pretty.

“It looks like Professor Clover is only partway done with his tour,” she noted as they stopped on a staircase. They could see the academic with the teens as they scoured some shelves, looking for a specific book. “They’re good kids, it seems.”

“Yeah, they are as good as fifteen-year-olds are going to be, anyhow,” he shrugged. “It’s still going to be a pain in the ass.”

“So your contract is to stay here for the duration of their tutoring?”

“Yeah, I’ve got to bring them back to Alabasta myself, so I can’t just ditch them here and be done with it. That’s not going to be fun.”

“Well,” Olvia chuckled, “if you ever need anything, let me know. I’m sure I can help out.”

He hesitated before deciding to fuck it.

“Actually, I’d, erm, like to get to know you better, please. Outside of the kids.”

“…and why’s that?”

“…because one day, someone is going to ask me who that woman is teaching my charges, and I’d like to be able to say more than the pretty one with the books.”

She smiled knowingly. “Nico Olvia; nice to meet you.”

“Monkey D. Dragon; the pleasure is mine.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Her name is Nico Robin, sire.”

“Nico…? That is a name from the past, indeed.” Cobra frowned as he looked at the photograph of the woman who was reportedly conducting business on the behalf of Baroque Works. It was late at night after everyone else was in bed as he sat up in his chambers, one of the few times he could truly talk freely with his captain of the guard. “She looks enough like her, if my memory serves me right.”

“I’m surprised I remember anything about that trip at all,” Igaram groused. “Even the smell of beer is ruined.”

Cobra chuckled at that; few things made him laugh these days, and much of it involved the past. Seas… that had been before he had even met Titi…

“Possibly,” Igaram continued, “if we appeal to her on the shared admiration of her mother, we might be able to get her to cooperate.”

“No,” the king said firmly. “If she goes by her mother’s family name, then she is likely a sensitive subject. We cannot let it be suggested that we ever knew her.” He placed the photo down on his writing desk and exhaled heavily. “That was thirty years ago… and where were we when she was thrown to the wolves as a child?”

“Burying your lady mother and readying for your marriage, not to mention the chaos that a monarch change involves.”

“…which is why I wish to slowly abdicate, to give Vivi a better transition than what I had… if we even make it that long.”

“It is a fine goal, sire,” Igaram agreed. He watched his monarch—his life-long friend—stare into the middle distance, clearly wrapped up in thought. “Is there anything else you require tonight, milord?”

“No, thank you. You may go now, Igaram.”

“As you wish, milord.” He bowed deeply. “For the good of Alabasta.”

Igaram quietly left the king’s chambers, finding that the young princess was waiting for him out in the corridor. She was such a haunting image of the late queen that it was terrifying…

…but this was a child, even if some would mistake her for being grown.

“Is she the same one that you remember?” she asked, voice quiet. He shook his head.

“Even if she was, we would have no basis on which to build a parley. We are to function as though the name is a coincidence.”

Vivi nodded slowly, considering her options. “Then I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to infiltrate Baroque Works.”

“…but Princess…”

“I can’t sit by and do nothing, Igaram. That’s not what a monarch is supposed to do. I’m here to serve the people, right? That’s not always about fancy trips to the Levely and hosting other nobles.”

“You are correct way too often for my blood pressure’s liking, milady,” he sighed, accepting their fates. “When do you wish to leave?”

“Tonight.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Dragon-san…?” He glanced over from the map and saw Cobra standing there, the kid only growing into something more awkward by the day. “How did you know you were in love with Nico-sensei?”

“I just kind of did,” he grunted. They were a full day out from Ohara, sailing back towards the entrance to the Grand Line. “Why? Someone there catch your fancy?”

“No… it’s just…” the teen worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “I’ve been taught plenty this past year, but watching you and Nico-sensei reminded me that I still don’t know what it will be like when I love someone. I imagine it’s… difficult.”

“It is,” Dragon admitted, “but sometimes it just finds you. At first it’s a like—or maybe they’re just smoking hot—and eventually you just find yourself realizing that the world isn’t quite the same without them in it.”

“…but that’s how I feel about my friends… my mother… my people…”

“Love comes in a lot of versions, kid,” Dragon shrugged. “You’re pretty observant to be a noble and understand that you should love your people—something tells me you won’t have a problem figuring out the romantic part when it comes.”

“You sure…?”

“Yeah.” He then jerked his head towards the rigging. “Get your asses up there and secure the topsail; we’re going through a real windy area soon.”

At least as the kids were up in the rigging, he’d have some quiet.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Are you sure that going back is what you wish?” Dragon asked. Robin was chuckling softly as Koala sobbed in her arms, not wanting the other woman to leave. “You could do a lot of good here…”

“I will do a lot of good anywhere I go,” she claimed… and rightfully so. “My place is with Luffy. He’s my captain and we’re not done yet.”

“Just don’t tell him that I’m still around; I’d rather do that myself,” Sabo chuckled.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“So the kids… they’re doing well…?”

Olvia shrugged as she tied Cobra’s hair back as the teen slept—last thing they wanted was for the kid to wake up and get drunken vomit in his hair. She wasn’t entirely sure that getting a sovereign prince blackout-wasted-drunk every weekend was setting a good example, but Professor Clover was not one to be argued with when several pints were on the table.

“Well enough,” she replied. She glanced over at Dragon, who was peeling an ale-soaked jacket off Igaram, and shrugged. He would know if he had the ability to sit in place while the teens were at their studies, yet school hours were often when he went wandering around Ohara, taking in the local sights. “Unless there’s a sudden breakthrough, I think there’s one thing that they won’t be able to do, but it won’t be horrible in the long-run.”

“So not something Her Highness requested?”

“Oh, she requested it, but it’s notoriously difficult. People of all ages attempt to learn and some never get it, no matter how long they try.”

“What’s that? Some sort of arcane science?”

“Reading.”

He paused, watching her as she finished putting Cobra to bed. “You’re talking about a prince and his nursemaid’s son—they’ve long been able to read.”

“Do you promise?” she asked.

“Promise what…?”

“Do you promise?” Olvia went to his side and held out her hand. Dragon looked at it, then up into her eyes, before placing his hand in hers.

“I promise,” he replied. “Better yet: I trust you.”

With a nod, Olvia helped Dragon finish with Igaram before taking his hand again and leading him out into the corridor. They went through the labyrinthine maze of staircases until they reached one that had no light down it, only darkness.

“The fragile manuscript storage room?” he wondered. She shook her head before taking the handrail and carefully stepping down into the dark.

“You know how we here in Ohara strive to uncover the secrets of the world through our research,” she explained, not waiting for him to follow. He did, which made her smile in the dark. “If your father came here and asked what sort of research we were doing, we could honestly tell him that much of it involves ruins and old tomes, surviving fragments from over the centuries. It is different from Vegapunk’s research, yet it is no different in our dedication or the danger that follows.”

“Vegapunk is being courted by the Government,” he reminded her.

“True, yet this… this is something we’re been hiding for much, much longer, and the knowledge from which we glean from this will benefit everyone, from us to Vegapunk to the young prince and everyone who wishes for the truth.”

“Olvia, what are you…?” He felt her stop in front of him and heard a heavy latch open.

“Welcome, Dragon, to the Poneglyph Chamber.”

The light from inside the room was bright as Olvia opened the door and ushered Dragon in. Once his eyes adjusted, he gasped at the sight of the giant stone in front of him, scholars all around as they went about their duties. Some stared at them as they made their way across the room, but most remained unfazed.

“You… you are teaching them to read this…?”

“Attempting; there is one in Alabasta, a rubbing of which Queen Ouraeus provided us in her youth. The secret history lies in these markings, and if we are to understand the Void Century, then we must first understand these Poneglyphs.”

“…but he’s not getting it.”

“No; I would be impressed if he ever did, if we’re being honest. His language skills lie where he’s able to understand the practical applications. Although this limits him to things such as Alabastian and Celestial and sailors’ creoles, it means that academic languages are unfortunately beyond his grasp.” She watched as he placed his hand on the Poneglyph, taking it all in. “There is nothing else in the world like it, is there?”

“Dad’s bosses would have a field day with this,” Dragon marveled. He looked at Olvia, seeing that her face was concerned and distant. “That’s your true goal here, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“That’s wonderful,” he replied. “It’s never sat well with me that there’s so much we don’t know, and the fact you’re doing it here? Sticking it to Dad and his bosses and their bosses? It’s like a military brat’s dream come true.”

Olvia nodded at that, too choked up to respond properly. Something deep inside her said she was doing the right thing by showing him their biggest secret, and the sparkle in his eyes made her heart swell.

He was going to be the one to do it.

He was going to be the one to make all their research worth it.

All they needed to do now was wait.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was a beautiful day as the Thousand Sunny sailed towards their next destination. With Fish-man Island the the Ryugyu Kingdom behind them, the crew’s spirits were high as they enjoyed their time together.

“Hey, Robin, do you want to play with us?” Luffy asked. She glanced up from her book and saw her captain standing rather close, with Usopp in the background attempting to ride on Chopper’s full-reindeer form as though his back was a furry surfboard. “It’s a lot of fun!”

“I’ll pass for now, but thank you,” she replied. Luffy didn’t go away, the teen instead tilting his head at her. “Yes…?”

“Something’s different about you,” he noted. “It’s not bad. Just… different.”

“We’re all different than how we were before,” she reminded him.

“I know.”

“…but there’s something else…?”

“Yeah.” Luffy went and threw his arms around Robin’s neck in a hug. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“I’m glad too,” she replied, patting his back. “I think you might want to get back to the others—Usopp seems like he’s getting rather good at that.”

“Oh! Hey! Usopp! Let me have a go!” Luffy was sufficiently distracted enough to run off and tackle the sniper right off the doctor’s back, all three of the teens laughing.

‘Maybe, we both always had an idea as to the truth,’ she thought as she watched her youngest crewmates roughhouse. They ran around silly until Sanji came out of the kitchen with snacks and drinks, snatching their attention. ‘The little brother I always wanted was right here after all.’

#Monkey D. Dragon #Nico Olvia #Nico Robin #Emporio Ivankov #Professor Clover #One Piece #fan fiction #this is complete crackfic that I expect to be disproven #but again: let's torture characters by making them related #but this time give Olvia and Dragon both some character development #it makes more sense than some stuff I've seen #and down here bc they're kind of spoilers I guess #Nefertari Cobra #Igaram (One Piece)#what is linear storytelling #this is a fcking mess but idc

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