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ashesandhackles · 10 months

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Goblet of Fire Reread (Part 2)

Chapter 17,18,19, 20,21,22,23

"It struck him how very tall all of them were" Harry thinking this about the champions one moment and then being angry at being called "a little boy". Accurate teenage boy behavior.

Snape stepping in to stop Karkaroff and Maxime insulting Dumbledore by insulting Harry instead, "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules" XD

Fleur really cares about the honour of representing her school.

Hints of Barty Snr under Imperius: both in his behaviour + imagery (skull like appearance in the darkness)

Violet, the witch painting went up to Fat Lady to gossip. We shall hear of this friendship again in HBP.

I really really love Hermione's insight into Ron's feelings here, because the implication here is that she noticed that he doesn't talk about it. "He's always shunted to the side when people see you, and he puts up with it, never mentions it" and how she contextualises it with how he feels around his brothers. She has an understanding and kindness about this that is very sweet.

Fleur flirting with Cedric while some creepy paunchy man watching her. Damn, what it must be like to be sexualised every moment of your life and what harmful ideas have you internalised?

Harry noting that Fleur was part Veela to tell Ron only to remember The Great Tragedy that Ron isn't speaking to him.

weighing of wands chapter to set up the priori Incantentem at end of book, to remind us of Harry's connection with Voldemort's wand.

Hermione trying to force Harry and Ron to talk to each other, poor thing. I can really feel her anxiety building over this and she is so impatient, "you miss him, he misses you". Hermione on Ronarry agenda. She even tries to sneakily make him meet Ron in Three Broomsticks and then Harry cottons on. And then her getting irritated, Harry having to resist the urge to poke Ron is peak trio content.

Harry getting cheered up by the fact that Cho wasn't wearing a support Cedric badge. Also, it's a nice shade to her character - she is nice. She recognises the badges for what it is and doesn't take part in it.

his face breaks into the first smile in days cos of Sirius and Sirius redirecting attention away from himself and focusing on Harry - "never mind me, how are you?" Harry is so vulnerable with him that he talks about Ron with him.

Sirius' respect for Moody is very interesting, he displays more of this in Padfoot Returns chapter where he talks about how Moody captured DEs and not killed them. I believe @leogichidaa and @artemisia-black have had a tumblr discussion on this.

Ron doesn't come up to bed after Harry lashes out at him for interrupting his conversation with Sirius. Poor bean - wondering how things got this bad between him and Harry.

BCJ is so chilling on reread- essentially admits that he is keeping track of real Moody via the Foe Glass. "I'm not really in trouble until I see the whites of their eyes. That's when I open my trunk."

BCJ talking about Maxime and Karkaroff but also himself - 'They want to win. They want to beat Dumbledore. They'd like to prove he's only human'. And he laughs.

Ron catches Harry's eyes, but Harry is too resentful to care. Ron trying, in his own awkward way, to let Harry know that he is on Harry's side again.

Harry not needing to hear Ron apologise to forgive him. Clearly Hermione feels the same as I do, because she burst into tears, hugs them both and goes off to cry alone LOL

I saw this tumblr post about how Fleur dealt with the dragon was the most compassionate one - trying to put it to sleep - that she and Charlie would get along cos of it. Cute hc.

Pigwidgeon falling 12 feet down before flying with the letter is so funny. Also how cute that Harry's letter to Sirius had a "blow by blow" account of how exactly he swerved, circled and dodged the Horntail. Sirius would have found that very endearing.

LOL at Dean drawing Cedric with his head on fire for party banners. (apart from drawings of Harry dodging Horntail)

Harry calling out Hermione for bending of rules is so cute. When she says, "he is supposed to work out the egg on his own" when Lee picks up the egg, and Harry reminds her in undertone that he was supposed to work out the dragon alone too, and she "grins guiltily"

I am very disappointed in Dobby, whose political consciousness that shone and drove the plot of CoS is done to "acceptable" levels of radicalism. He tried to save Harry, explicitly against harry's wishes, because of his idea that Harry is a symbol of hope to the "enslaved dregs of the magical society, who are treated as vermin" and that defeat of Voldemort ensured that his kind are treated better. (he is still endearing, but speaks to the message of the books - he can be radical but cannot question the existing institution too much)

Winky's loyalty to Crouch is treated as pitiable, while Hermione's overzealousness with some gentle ribbing because JKR seems to find it endearing. We will probably get into white saviorism later, because I have THOUGHTS.

Ron and Harry sword fighting with fake wands, which are tin parrot and rubber haddock respectively, is hilarious. (Ron's parrot got the haddock's head)

Cedric telling Hufflepuffs to leave Harry alone. Looks like he was so grateful for Harry's tip, he steps in on the bullying.

Cho's words about who she is going to the ball with echoing with each step Harry took. Peak teenage experience. End of the world your crush has been asked out by someone else.

so funny that Ron keeps trying to ask Hermione who she is going to the ball with at unexpected times to surprise her into answering

love that Hermione was simultaneously appalled by fake-Moody making Malfoy a ferret while also not above referencing that incident to get Malfoy off her back. ("twitchy little ferret, aren't you Malfoy")

Ron notices Hermione's teeth is no longer the same. And Hermione is all sly and mischievous about the fact that she let Madam Pomphrey carry on a bit.

ok this is such a cute description: Hermione sitting to watch Ron and Harry's chess match which had recklessly brave pawns and a violent bishop

Dobby gets socks as presents from both Ron and Harry (reminder Ron also puts socks over his dead body) and Ron's Christmas jumper.

Dumbledore referencing Room of requirement. (he makes a joke that makes Harry snort and Percy frown- I guess he thinks the joke isn't appropriate for international magical cooperation?)

Parvati goes off with a Beauxbaton boy because Harry wasn't paying attention to her. She also lead him while dancing -so much so he felt like a show dog. Love how alpha she is xD

Percy glances at Harry about "hitch with Goblet of Fire" : indication of his coming arc where he doesn't believe Harry. (Also, while Percy is socialising with Bagman, he chooses to sit with Harry and Ron, which is indicative of how awkward he feels i think)

Snape and Karkaroff's conversation will get referenced in Prince's Tale, where Dumbledore grants him -"i think we sort too soon".

the image of Maxime storming away with fairies parting bushes is a very striking.

Chapter 24, 25, 26,27,28

Hermione drops key family history for Harry without either of them realising it: she used Fleamont Potter's Sleakazy's. Also at the implication that Harry asked about her hair LMAO.

Ron and Hermione reaching an unspoken agreement about sidestepping the big fight which involved FEELINGS.

the unicorn preferring a girl's touch is tied around the myth of pure creatures comfortable with "pure souls". I am really not sure how to read the gender politics of this book using this aspect of mythology.

lol, at Parvati being very "cool" towards Harry since the ball. Her retort actually makes him reflect - "perhaps I should have paid her more attention" and then, "ah well, she had a good time anyway". Honestly, stan Parvati.

Harry's so suspicious of Bagman offering him help, and rightly so. I love him putting Bagman on backfoot with his questions.

really curious about goblins and their hierarchy in the wizarding world. they are the marginalised who "fight back".

Rosmerta looking at James Potter, "who used to make her laugh"'s son yelling at a reporter in the middle of her pub XD

Love that Gryffindors get food related passwords like "banana fritters" and poor Ravenclaws have to solve a riddle every time they need to get in.

Where is the fanart of Snape with long grey nightshirt? Where?

Snape shutting Filch up when (in his mind) Moody came in, BCJ using Moody's distrust to check his office. Excellent stuff. My favourite part of the scene is Snape angrily declares Dumbledore's trust in him, and BCJ reminds him of "spots that don't come off". And Snape clutches his Dark Mark (and immediately hates himself for doing it xD)

Okay, Snape conceding power to Moody in this scene is so interesting. When Snape tries to look for Harry, BCJ makes him back off by saying "meaning Dumbledore is very interested to know who's got it in for the boy!" and Snape answers in a forced calm.

the tension between Snape and fake Moody can be cut through with a knife. Love how menacing the scene makes Moody, with Rowling using visual pictures of Moody's scars in the darkness

Lmao, Neville sending Professor Flitwick flying across room in class. And the description of "Professor Flitwick went whizzing resignedly past them" when the trio are talking. The implication that Flitwick just let Neville do his thing… XD

Hermione answering Harry's grim dark joke seriously. Nerd XD so much so the next time she takes Harry's joke seriously, he had to tell her that he is joking lol.

Harry goes off food when he is stressed or upset: a hangover from Dursley days when punishment is "no food".

"Your Wheezy, sir, your wheezy - the thing Harry Potter sir will miss the most!" LOL. The way this book is designed for Ronarry feels.

Merpeople have pet Grindylows. (also the chief is a woman)

Harry actually tries to yank the spear away from merman when they refused to help him, and hits Krum when Krum failed to realise that his shark teeth would hurt Hermione. My little feral boy.

Percy, "who looked very white", splashing out to meet Ron <3

Poor Krum - he is trying to engage Hermione and she is too busy either asking Harry about his task or cheering him for his marks to listen.

I love how much Harry gets so cheered by Sirius' letters. And even as he is tense that Sirius would get caught, he enters Potions classroom happy XD

'Scarlet woman'. It speaks to the generation Molly comes from that she has these ideas, and that Ron has noticed and picked it up.

Hermione, being also aware that Ron's regard for her is less than platonic, "determinedly avoiding Ron's eyes" when she mentions Viktor did invite her. (Also funny that Hermione is trying to puzzle out how Rita heard her, and Ron is like, "nvm, what did you say about Viktor's invitation?" lol)

@urupotterwrote a nice meta about how Snape was deliberately provoking Harry (after harry moves tables) to read his mind. Right when Harry angrily looks up, Snape's eyes bore into him to check if he had broken into his office.

Sirius made them climb a mountain for half an hour lol. He believes in outdoorsy kids.

Sirius having a fuller face, and looking like he is taking care of himself when Harry met him at the fire - but now he is back in his prison robes, his hair is longer and he is thin again. When Sirius broke into the fire, he was clearly at a place where he could hide better and take care of himself. He is living off rats.

And he notices the anxiety on Harry;s face and explains why he is here (he is very good at reading harry's face and just answering his thoughts. He does it again later in the scene). He is worried about how fishy things look, and it is clear one of the reasons of his lack of care for himself is hyperfixating on Harry's safety and circumstances surrounding the tournament. (he also moves a lot when he is thinking - it's part of why he makes for such a strong scene presence. There is either note of how he takes space, or his eyes)

Sirius backs Hermione here about Barty Crouch Snr's treatment of Winky ("if you want to know what a man's like.."). This is important for Hermione's complicated feelings about him in the next book. He was the only adult on her side - even Hagrid, who she counted on, didn't agree with her.

Sirius projecting all his family issues over Barty Crouch Jnr.

Sirius' description of Azkaban is just extremely solitary and drenched in death, and suffering. He can see and hear things that are near his cell or out of the window (he could see Dementors burying who he thought was BCJ outside the fortress). Speaks to the immense violation Barty Crouch Snr has committed by sending him there without a trial. (There is also the fact that Azkaban is horrible, and no one deserves it)

Snuffles, enuff said. He also allows them each to pat them on his head before they leave. how cute.

"If he thought we are standing in way of his career"..ah, seeds of Percy arc of OOTP. Hermione believes in him while Ron doesnt lol.

I haven't mentioned in my notes because it would get too long - but Sirius' exposition about the First War, I think, is important for the atmosphere that leads to friends turning on each other.

also, I really love the note of Sirius, as always, admiring the morals of Mad Eye Moody for trying to bring Death Eaters alive, versus his condemnation of Barty Crouch Snr's methods. This shade of him - combined with the fact that he would have absolutely killed Peter after Jily death if he had the chance, or even the previous book. @artemisia-black wrote about her interpretation of it in this meta.

House elves should be "seen, not heard" philosophy, where they have internalised that anything showing discontent from where they are is undesirable.

Hermione pulling a Blinky episode here XD if the worldbuilding wasn't so shitty, I would actually enjoy a critique of Hermione's impatience here because it is very in line with steam of young activists finding roadblocks within the very people they want to help.

Chekhov's gun: the eagle owl Harry observes flying over Hagrid's hut - the same owl we see in Harry's dream with Voldemort later.

Maxime is apparently trying to make up to Hagrid - she watches Hagrid's class and even tries to engage him in a conversation prior to this. Maybe she feels sorry about how the story about Hagrid's mother come out in the Prophet and wants to bond? What did Maxime face because of her parentage?

Ron being upset that the gold he paid Harry back with vanished, and how he hates being poor and how both Harry and Hermione don't know what to say: Hermione tries to cheer him up by saying she will get him a Niffler for Christmas, how cute.

harry regularly sending Sirius food and little notes with them. I CANT. they have my heart, they are everything.

love that Fleur and Cedric are apparently friendly enough that she keeps going on about underground tunnels to him, and how Fleur beams at Harry when he comes.

Harry and Cedric being jocks, and how they are less than happy with the state of the Quidditch pitch lol.

Dumbledore uses the Patronus to summon Hagrid. A known method of communication between the Order. ("a ghostly bird")

love the dynamic of Fred and George arguing: George seems to be the more cautious one of the two, saying putting something like that in writing is blackmail, while Fred is like, "You're not going to complain once we get the pay off, would you?" But the moment Ron asks what's up with them, George backs Fred and sends the letter himself.

I also really loved the moment of the trio confronting the twins. It was hilarious. it shows all their priorities - both Fred and Ron with confrontational and surprised, "what are you doing here?" and Harry and George on defensive, "sending letter?" and both Fred and Hermione with a suspicious, "What, at this time?"

Hermione still uncomfortable with the idea of breaking laws: "This isnt some silly school rule, it's the law". Given where they all end up in DH (honestly even OOTP), this is interesting. She even advises Ron to reach out to Percy to stop whatever the twins are doing, and Ron's like, "Are you mad? He would probably do a Crouch and turn them in!" XD

Harry being annoyed at Sirius being an Overbearing Dad XD "Who is he, to lecture me after all the stuff he did at school?"

Chekhov's gun: insect buzzing somewhere behind the curtain. Rita Skeeter.

Also seeing Crouch Snr struggle against the Imperius put on him by Voldemort tells us how incredible it is that Harry throws it off in the graveyard

Harry connecting the magic of Pensieve with the diary through means of his experience. Could be a cool worldbuilding detail if we want to think about how Tom preserved his "memory" in the diary, along with it being a container for his soul.

important to understand how Voldemort operates: he alone knows who works for him, and others get exposed to each other via shared jobs or connections. This adds to what Sirius says in Padfoot returns chapter.

Mulciber specialised in the Imperius, as per Karkaroff's testimony. Could he have done something in similar vein to Mary MacDonald? It could also be talked of as a "laugh" since students do find Moody's control of the spider in Unforgivables class darkly funny.

"He is no more a Death Eater than I am": Dumbledore's vouching of Snape is strong. I would love a fic that explores Snape and Dumbledore's equation in First War, and how Dumbledore sees bits of himself in a young man who also thinks he is brilliant, and wants power, but ends up hurting the person he loves in his blindness.

The trial essentially feels like a gladiator ring, with the accused chained to the chair. (Of course, Bagman doesnt get chained to the chair due to the relative popularity with the jury)

Ah, BCJ. His reaction here depends on how you read his involvement with Longbottoms - whether he actually did it, or whether he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Of course, the book, with Cruciatus scene with spider, heavily suggest that he was indeed guilty. So, it is interesting to see his terror here - he is genuinely terrified of going to Azkaban, but he is also using his genuine terror to appeal to his parents, to get out and be free. (He does similar things throughout the book - use his real dislike of Malfoys, Snape but misdirect you about his motivations). It's a nice manipulative streak.

"You're no son of mine!" "Take them away, and may they rot there." I need a Crouch family deep dive, because it is essentially a version of Walburga burning her son's name off after he ran away. which is: "I want to pretend you don't even exist."

a very astute reader pointed out on reddit how Moody is not present for the Longbottoms trial (and his eyes were intact on both trials before). So the hc is that Bellatrix took out Moody's eye and he was recovering in the hospital at the time.

#hp reread #goblet of fire #harry james potter #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #sirius black #hermione granger #ron weasley #percy weasley #moody

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your-eternal-lies · 5 days

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YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME (chapter eight)

Main Navigation || Series Masterlist Please follow @your-eternal-library for all my fanfiction updates.

Pairing — Steve Rogers x f!Reader Summary — As his perfectly normal civilian neighbour, you’ve always been secretly curious about the Captain. Getting to know him while trapped together in your building’s elevator, however, definitely wasn’t on the agenda.

Warnings �� None.

YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME

CHAPTER EIGHT THE SMALLEST OF GIFTS

Time seems to slow to a crawl in the steel cocoon of the elevator, but Steve finds a sense of tranquility as he keeps vigil over your sleep.

He’d been through wars, seen the best and worst of humanity, yet nothing’s prepared him for the quiet upheaval that came with caring for someone in such a simple and unguarded way.

There’s a promise forming within him, unspoken but resolute, vowing to bridge the gap between your brief encounter here and the uncertain expanse of the real world beyond. Even he, in his infinite attempts at denial, knows he needs to find a way to make this connection endure, to weave the thread of this shared experience into the fabric of your everyday lives.

But life, much like you, has a way of surprising him when he least expected it.

With a soft sigh, you stir in his arms, your body shifting ever so slightly as consciousness begins to seep back into your features. Your eyelids flutter, revealing sleepy eyes that blink up at him, still hazy from dreams.

A smile spreads across Steve’s face, one that reaches deep into his eyes, crinkling their corners with genuine delight.

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmurs, the affection in his voice wrapped in a playful tease. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Your eyes go wide with shock, and just as you’re about to leap back in surprise, his arm tightens around you, the motion almost instinctual.

Something shifts inside him then, like the tectonic plates of his very soul rearranging themselves to accommodate the seismic event that is you.

He pictures you waking just like this in a bedroom with linen sheets, the sun streaming in through a nearby window, looking up at him with a sleepy smile.

He imagines introducing you to the Avengers, his friends, all the banter and jokes at his expense, and the looks of surprise when they would see this unassuming woman who’s captured his attention.

It’s not lost on him, the absurdity of contemplating a future with someone he’s only known a few hours, but he can’t seem to shake the feeling that there’s significance in this chance encounter.

Warmth seems to grow with each passing minute with the fantasy, feeding a fire that sparks unexpectedly in his heart.

Suddenly, thoughts of the world outside that demands Captain America disappear, the weight of his shield feels distant, and he begins to truly appreciate a very peculiar kind of magic at play.

“Steve?” You whisper, your breath fanning across his cheek. He only holds you tighter in response, moving achingly slow as he places his chin on top of your head, allowing you to find purchase against his chest.

He closes his eyes, his lungs seem unable to draw in enough breath, no matter how deeply he breathes.

Because, for the first time in years, Steve dreams for something beyond a hero’s call—a shared future, unpredictable and thrilling in moments of vulnerability and laughter.

“Never thought I’d get cozy with Steve Rogers in an elevator,” you mumble, heart in your throat.

You shift, your leg brushing against his as you settle further into his chest. The contact is electric, sparking a connection that surges through your veins, setting every nerve ending on alert.

At any other time, in any other place, you might have straightened up, put distance between you out of respect for personal boundaries. But here, the rules of engagement seem rewritten by an unseen hand.

“Am I heavy?” You ask, though what you really want to ask is whether he can feel the racing of your heart, or if he knows just how much this moment means to you.

“Not even a little,” he assures, his tone light. “Are you comfortable?”

“Never better,” you whisper, watching the fabric of his t-shirt ripple under your breath. “You make a surprisingly good pillow, Rogers.”

“Happy to be of service,” he pulls back just a little, so that you can stare into his handsome face. The close quarters strip away his larger-than-life persona, leaving behind just a man—Steve, who is so much more than just a caricature of red, white, and blue.

It’s a peculiar thing, you muse, how a simple twist of fate can pivot your entire existence. A malfunctioning elevator has become a crucible, forging a bond that feels almost as strong as vibranium, yet as delicate as the silence that envelopes you.

Your heart swells with a mixture of joy and uncertainty in his arms. You wonder if you’re just running on borrowed time, if this newfound intimacy is just a result of adrenaline and forced proximity, that maybe the doors would open eventually and reality would come flooding back in.

But you cling to hope that this is just the beginning. Steve gives you a small smile in the darkness, the weight of his arm around your waist reassuring as you realize you don’t just want more moments like these; you need them.

Taking advantage of your closeness, you carefully study his face: the slope of his nose, the spots of freckles that you hadn’t noticed before, and the curve of his lips, like a cartographer charting out the contours of newly discovered land.

For now, you allow yourself the luxury of believing it’s possible—that someone as magnificent and lovely as Steve Rogers could feel for you even a fraction of what you feel right now.

“Steve?” You say his name again, your voice barely audible, a whisper against the quiet thrumming of the lift.

“Yes?” And when he says yours in return, you fall in love a little with the way it sounds.

“Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“That… we’ll go get your coffee after this,” you lean back against his shoulder, keeping your voice light, but there’s a seriousness in your tone that you can’t hide. “I need to make sure you’re not just a figment of my caffeine-deprived imagination.”

“Cross my heart.”

« Chapter 7 || Chapter 9 »

Taglist — My taglist has been discontinued. Please follow @your-eternal-library and turn on notifications for all my fanfiction updates.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers series #steve rogers fluff #summer’s fics

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untoldreader · 1 month

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Entangled Hearts

Wanda Maximoff x Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary

The bond between Wanda, Natasha, and Y/N deepens, igniting a passionate and complex love triangle. Their hearts become entangled in a web of desire, leaving them torn between their feelings and the consequences that lie in wait

Warnings

none?

Tag list

@nayarianna1302 @alexawynters @tigerlillyruiz

Chapter 3: Entangled Hearts

As our journey continued, the bond between Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, and I grew stronger with each passing day. We found ourselves entangled in a web of emotions, navigating the complexities of our evolving relationships.

One evening, we gathered in Wanda's cozy apartment, seeking solace in each other's company. The room was filled with a mixture of anticipation and unspoken desires. We knew that the time had come to address the growing feelings that simmered beneath the surface.

"I can't deny the depth of my emotions for both of you," I admitted, my voice filled with vulnerability. "Wanda, your warmth and compassion draw me in. Natasha, your enigmatic allure captivates me. I feel torn, caught between two extraordinary women."

Wanda reached out, her hand gently resting on mine. "Y/N, we understand the complexity of your feelings," she said, her eyes filled with empathy. "We, too, have found ourselves navigating this intricate dance of love and desire. It's not an easy path, but we're in this together."

Natasha nodded in agreement, her expression a mix of understanding and longing. "Y/N, your presence in our lives has awakened feelings I thought were long buried," she confessed. "But we must tread carefully, for love can be both beautiful and destructive. We need to find balance."

The weight of their words settled upon me, and I realized the challenges that lay ahead. Love had the power to heal and destroy, to bind and break. We had to navigate the delicate balance of our hearts while honoring the trust and respect that existed between us.

Days turned into weeks as we explored the depths of our emotions. We laughed, we cried, and we shared moments of intimacy that transcended the physical realm. Our love triangle defied conventional norms, and we forged a unique connection that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Yet, shadows loomed over our budding relationship—shadows of our pasts and the secrets we carried. We knew that in order to move forward, we had to confront the haunting whispers of desire and the lingering doubts that threatened to tear us apart.

"It's time we face the truth," Wanda said, her voice filled with determination. "We cannot build a future on a foundation of lies and unspoken secrets. We owe it to ourselves and to each other to be honest."

Natasha nodded in agreement, her gaze unwavering. "We must trust that our love can withstand the revelations that lie ahead," she added. "Only by embracing the truth can we truly find the happiness we all deserve."

With renewed resolve, we embarked on a journey of introspection and revelation. We bared our souls, unveiling the hidden corners of our pasts and the fears that held us captive. It was a painful process, but it also brought us closer, strengthening the threads that bound our hearts together.

≈========================≈

Chapter 3 marked a pivotal moment in our story. Through heartfelt conversations, we acknowledged the complexity of our emotions and the challenges we faced. We recognized the importance of trust, honesty, and confronting our pasts as we sought to find balance and forge a path forward. Our hearts were entangled, and we would navigate this love triangle with open hearts and unwavering determination.

#marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #Threads Of Fate: Wanda #Natasha #and Y/N

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gloryy-vs · 1 year

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Huntress’ Call

chapter 7 : between two

prompt: you’re an aggressive warrior, praised by the clan and close to the sully family. neteyam caught your eye but you’re convinced you’ll never be as mighty or honorable as he is. you also caught neteyams eye but he assumes he will never be as truly dedicated to the warrior life as you are. ao’nung slowly begins to fall for you, and you return the feeling. but you know that things between you and neteyam are not so simple as done.

ratings: sfw, violence, war, angsty, enemies to friends to lovers, warrior, aggression, not proof-read

characters: Neteyam x na’vi! reader, Ao’nung x na’vi! reader

Your head was bustling with anxious thoughts as you and neteyam made your way to the shore where Tsireya and her brother were. You glanced over at Ao’nung, and his eyes darkened when he saw Neteyam beside you, guiding you with a hand on your waist. Tsireya could sense the thickening tension between the three of you, deciding that it was for the best that she took on training you today. Girls with girls, boys with boys.

With a gentle smile she took your hands, “Come, you will be with me today.” Tsireya said, her voice like silk to your ears.

Both Neteyam and Ao’nung protested, reaching their hands out to you and causing them to touch. Both retracted their hands, glaring at each other with a strong hate. You looked back at both of them, your eyes stern and you mouthed.

“Behave.”

Neteyam grinned, nodding respectfully as his braids fell past his shoulders again. It earned a smile from you. Seeing this, Ao’nung stepped forward slightly giving you a big smile.

“Of course I will.” Ao’nung mouthed back.

Neteyams face dropped, side eyeing him with annoyance. Ao’nung sauntered to his ilu, clicking his tongue and whistling to draw its attention. They were both annoyed with being around each other.

“What do you intend to do with her?” Neteyam popped the question first.

The Metkayina man stiffened, his broad shoulders tensing to show off the muscles.

“I intend on making her my mate. She’d be a perfect tsahik. She’s a profound warrior, everyone will respect her. She learns quick, knows how to hold her own.” He kept going, hoping to get a rise out of Neteyam.

“But she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to be just a warrior to somebody-“ Neteyam was stopped, Ao’nung pushing against his chest.

“How would you know? You pushed her aside all these years and now that she’s happy you wanna take that from her?” His voice was laced with venom, Ao’nung was fighting back the urge to tackle Neteyam.

“I’m the one who grew up with her. I’m the one who watched her make a name for herself. I’m the one who triggered that change. You’re just a fish lipped asshole who knew her for two seconds before you wanted to get it in.” Neteyam was fuming by now, offended that Ao’nung would accuse him of wanting to make you unhappy.

Scoffing, Ao’nung turned his head to the side, popping his neck in the process before he looked back. “Get it in? Don’t be mad that I can do it in a week when it took you…what? 19 years to even reconcile.”

Neteyam didn’t even think twice like he usually would, and reeled his fist back to land a punch straight in Ao’nungs eye. The reef Na’vi didn’t take it too lightly, tossing himself at Neteyam and bringing them both down. Each boy throwing punches at one another in the sand, the tide occasionally hitting them as they fought.

You and Lo’ak on the other hand were fishing for shells that Tsireya threw down for you guys. a way to practice swimming quickly and breathe control. Her praise was genuinely the only thing keeping Lo’ak going. You were glad that the two shared an instant connection by the will of Eywa. You surfaced with the pink and green shell in hand, showing Tsireya you managed to catch it.

“You did it! Good job!” She said, a big smile forking on her face that showcased her defined dimples.

Tsireya looked up towards the sun, as if calculating the certain angle. “It is time to eat, I also have training I must complete with my mother.” She said hastily, taking Lo’aks had to swim out of the water with him.

You followed beside them, poking your head out as you neared the shore where you last left the two boys. Emerging from the water, your face dropped, mouth hanging wide open as concern flooded all senses. In front of you, you saw two badly bruised men, standing apart from each other to catch their breath. They looked like they would pounce on each other again. You ran through the sand as well as you could, hands going straight to Neteyams chest. Your childhood friend looked down, his eyes filled with shame as he looked at your disappointment.

He looked badly beaten, a bruise on his cheekbone already forking and a split lip. Turning your head, you reached out to Ao’nung, hand holding his. He looked even worse, cuts all over his face, a bruise forming around the eye he could now barely keep open. Tsireya ran over, seeing her brothers state.

“Ao’nung! What has happened?” Tsireya cried out, forcing Ao’nungs head to face her, but his eyes remained trained on you, then your hand holding his while the other was on Neteyams chest. Slowly, he made eye contact with his sister, putting a hand on her arm so she could lead them away.

“I am sorry for my brothers behavior. I shall go take care of this. I will see you all tonight and the feast.” She said, haste and hurry in her voice.

You hesitantly let go of Ao’nungs hand, seeing him turn his back to you and walk away with his younger sister. Your attention turned to Neteyam again, remembering he was still hurt.

“You skxawng! What is the matter with you!?” You yelled, raising your hand to slap, hit him or do something to take the anger you felt out. But you tensed your arm up, shifting in the air for a bit before dropping it down in defeat. You couldn’t hurt him. Lo’ak stood in silence, processing the fact that he beat the shit out of Ao’nung.

He lowkey wished he did it first.

Taking his ear, you yanked down, dragging him with you. He stumbled, wanting to protest to the pain but he knew better than to tell you off after you specifically told them both to behave with each other. Your own ears perked up at the sight of his parents. Letting go of his ear, you nudged him to the opposite side of you.

“Don’t let them see, just act natural. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” You said softly, holding onto his arm tightly as you two walked by them.

Jakes own attention turned to the two of you, he was about to call your names out until Neytiri slapped the back of his head. “Let them be. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them like that.” She said, her eyes glancing at you two with adoration. It reminded her of when she first mated with Jake.

You were thankful for being able to get by them without a glance in your direction. You shoved Neteyam into the Marui pod and rubbed your face angrily.

“Ma’ Teyam is this what you wanted? Look at you! Over what?” You paused, staring him dead in the eye with a frustrated expression showing through your cat-like eyes. “Why did you both start this?”

He wiped at his lip with his thumb, and your stomach grew tight. He did look enticing with a few marks and bruises on him. You mentally slapped yourself, knowing it wasn’t the time nor the place. Neteyam looked annoyed with himself, but decided to phrase it as nicely as possible.

“Inappropriate things were said about you. Things I didn’t want to hear coming from another man.” He said, staring down at your smaller frame.

His broad and muscular build tended up at the thought of what Ao’nung said. What hurt most was that he believed it was true. His golden eyes searched your face for any reaction.

“What did he say..?” You asked, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer or not. It was just difficult to believe that Ao’nung would say something so bizarre.

Neteyam shook his head, dramatic braids swaying back and forth before resting on his shoulders. “I cannot say.” He stepped forward wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his cheek on top of you head.

His heart ached for you, he was afraid all this time, all the miscommunication lead you into another man’s arms. You placed your hands on his upper arms, ready to protect because you were still upset that he got into a fight with the other na’vi in the first place. A silence swelled between you both, his arms tightening around you as horrid thoughts swirled in his head. Images of losing you to Ao’nung. Your happy smile, eventually mating with him and having children of your own.

You saw from behind him, his tail would pause, then swish around slowly. An obvious sign the Na’vi was agitated. You rubbed his arms soothingly, heartbeat slowing down as your breathing synced with his subconsciously.

“Neteyam, tell me. What is wrong? Speak to me.” You said softly, moving your head to look up at him.

“You must choose one of us. I cant live like this, I cant live not knowing wether you’ll take me as your mate or if you’ll take him.” He said, eyes void of any happiness or certainty.

You never imagined it would come to this.

#neteyam x reader #avatar neteyam #avatar way of water #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam imagine #avatar loak #avatar #avatar jake #neteyam x you #ao’nung x reader #aonung avatar #aonung x you #aonung imagine #aonung x reader

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kinokoshoujoart · 8 months

Text

scribbled down a relationship chart for the forgotten valley bros to collect my thoughts after snooping into their dialogue files, because i’m crazy over the barebones scraps of tiny interactions between them that we are given they’re a neat group of lads and i want to see them in lots of wacky situations together

rambling explanation and screenshots under the cut. spoilers for dialogue

gordy and gustafa are bffs and i love them!!!!!

they have mutual respect for each other… gustafa clearly admires and understands gordy’s art, and gordy seems to view gustafa as his closest confidant, he even gets you and Gustafa the new kitchen if you enter chapter 2 without being able to “afford” it yourself

they only really mention each other and don’t have anything to say about the other two boys

no one has anything bad to say about gustafa, which is exactly how it should be. blessed bard. it’s extra sweet to me that he’s the most well-liked bachelor both in and out of the game given one of the npc gossip lines your son can tell you— he grew up without many friends (in the original game the secret was that he was bullied). he deserves all the happiness in the world

matt opinions

matt shares his Opinions (slander) on gordy and rock specifically if you show him your kid with them, but has no slander for gustafa… his line for gustafa is instead just copied from what he says about the bachelorettes’ kids. so i count that as a gustafa win

i had to stretch to find any mention of gustafa by matt, the closest thing is that he comments that he doesn’t usually go to the starlight concert

i want gustafa and matt to interact!!! i want gustafa to give matt a tomato when he’s being gruff like he did with nami (matt: “th-thank you…..*blush* i already have ten billion of these”) matt also has lines about farm work being easier when you’ve got music accompanying you if you show him a record so i’ll count that as a very flimsy positive connection (matt IS friendly with gavin, due to frequenting the bluebird café, but is a bit reticent to make friends on his own)

rock opinions and social diseases

rock is extremely excited about hearing gustafa play music and calls him a wizard at the guitar and says he never gets tired of hearing him play. he also likes wandering over to gustafa’s yurt and listening to his music along with tei on market days (his most normal bachelor to bachelor interaction)

the only guy who gets no positive comment from rock is matt, instead rock goes to town roasting him in his fourth heart event out of envy for a completely imaginary situation and argues that he’s worth a hundred matthew’s (source?). he also likes to go into the already crowded farmhouse at night on market days and make it even more cramped, but he usually leaves right before matt gets home

finally rock has what i can only describe as a really odd one-sided crush on gordy!! he meanders into gordy’s trailer at 12:45 AM (AM) every market day and loudly, obliviously asks why there’s so much “trash” everywhere (you’re the trash, rock!!!!!!). thankfully rock is quite literally beneath gordy’s notice, however this seems to make rock sad and he tries to come up with wacky stunts to get gordy’s attention like drawing on gordy’s face and… holding his breath? (maybe, i dunno WHERE that dialogue triggers). he has a line celebrating gordy finally noticing him, i’m not sure what causes it though (for his part, gordy has no lines referencing rock)

finally, if you show rock your kid he will tease them by bragging that he was waaaay cuter at their age… but ONLY if it’s a bachelor’s child. rock your complex is so obvious that it’s more of a simple

in summary,

rock seems to think highly of each of the guys (except matt), unfortunately this manifests in him making really odd attempts to barge into their houses at strange hours and by trying to assert dominance in annoying ways. thankfully no one really notices anything he does (except matt)

matt doesn’t generally say nice things about anyone except cecilia (which makes the nice things he says, like about nina, more meaningful…) so unsurprisingly he has nothing nice to say about any of the guys, but he doesn’t have anything negative to say about gustafa. however he seems to want friends to do stuff with (he complains about how no one in the valley wants to go swimming…..hhhgg i am desperate to force rock and matt to spend time together. a friendship where you can’t stand each other but you’re the only two people who enjoy doing the same hobby so you put your differences aside and splash around in the water) like with rock no one really seems aware of matt’s existence except rock who is Extrwmely Aware to the point of knowing about matt’s crush on ceci, but unlike rock matt is not exactly jumping at the chance to go socialize with others

gustafa and gordy are friends with each other (and also both are friends with nami) and they support each others ambitions. i have no source but i’m confident that when gustafa visits gordy he’s also bringing him water and soup (he also visits daryl so i think it’s cool and fun if gustafa drops in on the local lost-in-thought creative hermits with hydration reminders and care packages)

#i really love all 4 of these boys i. i clearly have a babygirl but i am not immune to any of them #and each guy is not just standing out from the other 3 but also wildly different from all other bkmn men #the magic ingredient called ‘not designed to be a marriage candidate’ is the secret spice that makes me want to marry bkmn men #also this is why my husband needs to be set loose. please go outside and cause havoc honey you haven’t stepped off the farm since we wed #sos awl #bokumono #will probably make doodles based on some of the dialogue lines #gustafa (awl)#story of seasons #harvest moon a wonderful life #rock (awl)#story of seasons a wonderful life #gordy (awl)#matthew (awl)#sos awl spoilers #sos: awl #extremely sane posting hours #rock tumbling (sos)

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fandombrainrots · 1 year

Text

I didn’t post this on the wrong account you did-

Chapter 2: investigations and superstitions

——————————————

Inside the Watchtower, the League was fighting over who should go to Amity. Flash was the first one to speak up, slamming a fist on the table for everyone’s attention. “We need supers there! It would be safer considering we could properly fight without much risk!” Hal huffed out on the other side of the room, glaring at Barry.

“Are you kidding? The town has reports of possession! What’s gonna happen if a super gets possessed?” Everyone hushed at the thought of being possessed, the situation slowly sinking in.

“I will go.” Batman spoke up from the head of the table, all eyes turning to him.

“I can take some of the Robins with me, and disguise it as a charity event. I’m the most reasonable to go since I would have an alibi.”

The table went silent at the statement. Batman watched as the idea slowly set into everyone’s heads. “That might actually work. Afterall, he has kids who would be able to get close to Danny, and as they do that, Bats here would be able to get close with the locals and find out if it's truly just a kids trend.”

—————————————————-

“Yooo Danny, did you see that your video went viral?” Tucker casually dropped over the comms as Danny was patrolling around Amity.

“I’m sorry, it went what?” Danny halted in the hair for a minute before dipping down into the park. “Ya dude! The Zone has been trending for a while now, and someone found yours. Everyone has left comments saying that you’re the ‘chosen one’ cause so far you have the only clear footage inside.” Sam started to laugh over the comms as Danny let out a groan. “Dude! You accidentally made a parody of your parents!” This time Danny wasn’t able to react fast enough to the comment, slamming into a wall as a result.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I did not.” He quickly sat down on a roof, pulling out his own phone before pulling up the video he posted only a week ago. He made it because tears in between the two realms were becoming more common, and as Phantom, he had already had to help a few people escape. It wasn’t meant to go viral, just help. Although getting attacked by Shulker at the end and leaving it in probably wasn’t the best idea. Danny also knew that his parents were still decently active on their channel, and while he could see their videos, Tucker had worked it out so that they could never see his. While he hadn’t watched their videos, Sam and Tucker did, explaining why they found the connection.

Do you think people will realize we are related?” Danny asked as he looked over the town. He fiddled with his phone as he did. It had now been two years now since the accident, and most of the rogues respected him enough now to leave him alone during the school day. He had finally gotten his grades back up to a decent level, though they still bothered him at night. “I doubt that they won’t. Your parents’ videos are already pretty popular since, even though they are wrong, they were the only videos explaining what the zone even was.” Tucker explained over the comms as Danny snapped out of his thoughts. “What if you did more though?” Sam cut into the conversation. “Did more of what?” Danny asked her, deciding that he could head home now.

“Make more parodies of your parents' old videos! You can correct their theories while also drawing attention. And by not outright saying your relation to them, you can become this online cryptid of the Zone.” Sam explained, clicking being heard on her side of the line as she started typing something.

“You're telling us that Danny should make a youtube channel about the Zone? Isn’t the whole reason we haven’t posted about it before is to keep it safe?” Tucker asked Sam, confusion lacing his voice. “Well why not! We obviously don’t give away the major bits and pieces, like the fact that ancients are real, and maybe nothing about phantom for safety, but we can explain how it's dangerous, and why people shouldn’t actively try to find the zone. Sure Danny’s first video might confuse them, since he willingly went inside, but if we take it down and start anew, we could make safety psa’s on what to do if it does happen!” Sam exclaimed with an excited voice, Danny’s gears grinding in his mind at the implications. “I think that’s a good idea… Tucker, how fast do you think you can take the old video down?” Danny phased through his wall, landing in his room before transforming back and rushing to his computer.

“I can get in down in ten minutes, do we want a proper channel name this time?” Tucker replied, clicking now resounding from his end. “Oh, oh! Call it ‘Into The Zone!’ It can add to the cryptid vibes that you're gonna try to give off.”Danny grinned as he opened YouTube,“Do it!” He called out over the call, watching as the video he posted only a week ago disappeared, the fifty thousand views it had gathered disappearing down the drain with it as well.

“We need to script the next video, and find a video of your parents’ that we can take from and fix.” Sam said, pulling up his parents' old channel as she went through their videos to find one they could steal. “We should probably make the psa video first, a channel intro of sorts that explains the danger of the zone before they watch anything else.” The trio set to work writing a quick script, planning out the new channel late into the night.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Battsssss! We’ve got a problem!” Flash called out, the youtube video he had been reviewing now gone from his screen.

——————————————————————————————————————

@dannyphantomphan @letsbegoblingods @thexfile4o4 @d-j-t-15 @queen-of-the-grapefruits @wildbacon @itshype @arend000-blog @elvesandlanterns @mimilikey @may-rbi @miraculousandmore @luffyrose @aroanorth-west @lunaria618 @blackrabbitt3t @mnemovoid @ultimatebluff @kgne-k @stargirl1331 @arc-777 @ghoststoneguard @dolfay @midnightenigma @trainer-sean @evana-47 @d4ydr34min9 @kyrianclawraith @thegatorsgoose @britcision @jesimilu @tealty @eonic @newgraywolf @fisticuffsatapplebees

I hope I didn’t miss anyone!

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #batman #dcmultiverse #Danny your giving the bat an aneurysm #tucker your not helping

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ladythot · 10 months

Note

What is ur opinion on all the Yuenchi characters that appeared so far?

Now this is a very great opportunity for me to introduce some of the cuties in the gaiden but let me just show you this unnamed boxer cutie before startin off with a few characters—

*heart eyes, dick hard*

We'll call him boxer cutie, I recall he appears in 12th chapter but anything pass 11 of yuuenchi is almost nonexistent 'less you're desperate like me to go on reddit and scourge for the rest. I love his chill, free and easy personality. But one thing that bothered me is (cw spoilers) my guy already experienced his last moments before mumon could even become a bodyguard at his place and lost to one of those vacuum palm users aka nincompoops like yanagi, hopefully he atleast gives us his name before he rests in peace kek

Mumon Katsuragi :aka the bakiverse inosuke

He's a natural cutie. I find it intriguing how his lips have more color than the rest of the male characters in the gaiden and female characters usually have those, right? I like it when people ask if he's a woman as soon as he takes off his cap. He probably wears it to look more manly and convincing. Besides that, I realize how close the connections are between presumably distant characters and characters he had raw connections with aka Tokugawa/taizan/rofu/kozue etc. They all know about katsumi and it makes me wonder if there's a time where lil informations about eachother are occasionally brought through random moments as they think about that time in the circus

I'd also like to say since he left the circus; there's one panel where kid katsumi can be seen crying over him and his dad, he slipped during his performance because he was worried about mumon and this goes back to that one canon detail where katsumi still appreciates his biological mom despite her having to leave him the same way—This small angsty detail burdened me with profound woes and made me feel bad for my boy katsumi because mumon never planned turning on his heels once as he left daw fuck me bro, me thinks what ifww katsumi held a grudge on him instead and they fwight epicly at the very end

Overall? He's such a good boy, but in the latest chapters....? He became feral after his trauma was relived (chapter 16)

Taizan Matsumoto

Best dad no words. He raised mumon so well—no better dilf could simply replace his raw capability as a functional parent in the bakiverse. Not only does he headlock properly, he takes things to another level by being the solid mvp of the gaiden. Mumon would simply stay as a famishing stray kid without him, what more is there without this man prior to recent chapters? None. He's such a good father figure to both mumon and kozue, but good things come to end sooner than bad earnings—Itagaki why indeed.

I think he's the reason why mumon likes hanging out under cherry blossoms? someone mentioned that and I'd like to take the lovely idea to heart without correcting myself or the other person in hand

Rofu Isomura

Interesting character. Love him and the faces he made with kid mumon, their interaction, growth and everything. Anything about their interaction was wholesome and it showed mumon's unspoken aptitude for quick learning and being a genius at mastering techniques at such a young age. He's funny too, so unpredictable yet enjoyable

Mizuchi Koganemaru

Ya really need my opinion lastly on this silver spoon? His talent for nude sculpting is pretty impressive and we're not hinting at the sculpture of lady in the corner of his room. I think he's so mysterious, I like it. But also, there haven't been enough source for the recent chapters nor updates so I can't tell much about my opinion on him. One thing I wanna know is, what's he doin sculpting mumon and holding the manmade cement head huh.

I vouch yuuenchi for the unique art style and well written details for the manga artist to consider drawing in the upcoming chapters :heart emoji: they have all my respect in terms of making mumon and the rest. The more the merrier innit for the main anime?

There are a few more characters I've had peeks of in the latest chapters which is really hard to find by the way, but this is all I could say for now lawl

#baki the grappler #baki dou #baki gaiden #yuuenchi #baki son of ogre #mumon katsuragi

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0alix0 · 5 months

Text

sith inquisitor story is boring... let's fix it

so... i've been thinking about what exactly was wrong with it and how it could've been improved, and one of the things was that writers really failed the whole "old ways vs new ways" dynamic between inquisitor and Thanaton, because despite them being a slave (most likely from non imperial space, probably alien, who discovering force much later in life and never even heard about it before) it's INQUISITOR who actually relies on the old ways (literally ancient ghosts) and just so happens to be from an old powerful bloodline as an (absolutely unneeded) explanation for inquisitor being able to shoot lightnings out of their ass.

SOooo instead, try to imagine this:

Inquisitor is still a slave, but that's it. no distant fancy bloodline, no ghost grandpa to save the day, nope! you're on you own BUT you have a lot of raw power, which naturally draws Zash's attention.

Instead of getting random artifacts the whole first chapter (which you do but about it later), the plot is about inquisitor kind of learning about Vitiate and Zash theorizing about how does one manage to live so long. And to spice things up, from time to time she says stuff like: "well maybe his body DID get old, he just changes them... oh well :)". So they still go to planets, but this time they're picking up valuable information related to Vitiate and immortality, maybe relics that make you (who isn't dumb) VERY suspicious about Zash's intentions.

THANATON IS THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE USING GHOSTS, and inquisitor is the one who should be searching for possibilities to cut his connections to them! So they have to use the most unorthodox things (at least by empire standards) to win: alliance with aliens, imperials (that most sith have a very low opinion of), non-force sensative people, technical weapons, traps, anything that is considered "weak" by the """true""" sith.

and your companions would actually make much more sense: Ashara - there are things to learn even from your enemy, Xelek is a proof that you can be any species and be powerful non the less, Talos, a talented historian, helps you to learn what artifacts/ghosts Thanaton uses (despite being non-force sensitive), Andronicus as an unconventional ally that most sith would dispose of immediately or at least wouldn't even consider keeping him around, but you gain more by just being a good and respectful leader. and Khem... maybe Khem is learning to adapt in a new world? And you constantly challenge him to stop concentrating on his past?

you know make the story really show how stagnating the empire actually is. LS inquisitor actually tries to improve things, meanwhile DS inquisitor is just like malgus, war is a war we have to win no matter what BUT also inquisitor (as a former slave) is much more cruel and manipulative especially towards high ranking imperials and sith traditionalists. Cycle of abuse and all that.

and in the end of it all, you also help some dark consul members (with diplomacy on Voss, and with your unorthodox mini army of aliens on Correlia like JC) so you're allowed to face Thanaton on Korriban like SW faced Baras. Using your new knowledge, you cut his connection to force ghosts showing that his power wasn't really his own, and that to become stronger you have to be able to learn and change

...anyway thanks for joining me in my "bioware just hire me" rant, i'm here every day of the week

#sith inquisitor #swtor #star wars the old republic #darth imperius #darth nox #textpost

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 9 months

Text

Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 9

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Dieter Bravo X OFC New as of 7/28/2023

SUPPORT YOUR CREATORS. REBLOGGING & COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

Series Rating: Explicit (18+)

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives.

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Quote: “He says he’s a friend from New York.”

The next day, I had to go into the office for a few meetings with staff to catch up on where they were with their accounts. I was actually happy about this because I knew it would be a good distraction. I threw my blow-dried wavy hair up into a loose updo, applied a small amount of make-up, and I got dressed in a black pencil dress and blazer. Then headed out the door for my short commute.

Around eleven fifteen, my office phone rang. I heard my assistant, Kerrie, yell that it was Lauren. I picked the phone up.

“Don’t you ever get tired of talking to me?” I said as I answered.

“Don’t be silly. Also, I love your new assistant. I think we’re going to be besties. So, I was thinking…we should go grab some lunch.”

“Well, I’m happy you feel that way and it sounds like I need to tell her to ignore your number when it pops up.”

Lauren laughed.

“As for lunch, I don’t have enough time to go out. I have a meeting at 1:00.”

“Boooo. You suck. Do you need me to bring you anything?”

Before I could answer, Kerrie walked into my office, leaving the door slightly ajar. Her eyes were wide with a shocked look on her face. She was doing a small wave with her hands to get my attention.

“Hold on Lauren, what is it, Kerrie?”

“Umm, there is a gentleman here asking if you’re free for lunch?”

“A gentleman?” I said, confused.

“He says he’s a friend from New York.”

“A friend from New York?” I said, still confused.

She watched the realization set in on my face. I momentarily lost my words. She leaned over toward me and whisper-yelled, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew him!” Meanwhile, I could hear Lauren on the phone asking very loudly who was here. She had clearly pieced it together from the tone of her voice.

I sat motionless, feeling my heart rate pick up. My breathing turned shallow as I broke out into a sweat. I shook my head from side to side and took a deep breath trying to pull myself together.

“Get rid of him. I can’t, I have a meeting.” I said sternly.

I heard Lauren shouting from the phone, “NO! What the hell are you doing! GO WITH HIM!”

Kerrie stood stunned, surprised at my answer. “I can reschedule it for you. It’s just Steve.”

“No. I can’t go.”

Kerrie didn’t move.

“Is there a problem? Handle it please.” I said out of frustration.

Lauren was still yelling nonsense on the phone while Kerrie just stared at me, shaking her head.

“I can’t tell him no,” she whispered with a stubborn look on her face.

The door started to inch open further as Dieter slowly walked in, immediately noticing the phone a few inches from my ear. My eyes met his. He paused and mouthed “sorry” once he realized he was potentially interrupting something. Kerrie’s head swiveled back and forth between us, waiting for someone to say something. I could feel my face tighten and my brows draw together. I’m pretty sure I looked pissed more than anything, but it was actually pure panic. Dieter instantly looked beyond nervous. Lauren was still yelling on the phone, asking me what was happening. I was suddenly feeling over-stimulated between the three of them and couldn’t focus. I put the phone all the way back to my ear.

“Shut up. I’ll call you back.”

I could hear her telling me I better talk to him as I moved the phone away to hang it up.

I looked away from him, lowering my head. I noticed my hands were starting to shake. I gripped the arm rest of my chair tightly in an effort to make them stop.

“What are you doing here?” I said in a rather assertive tone, trying to keep it together. I glanced back up at him. He looked like he was about to say something, but snapped his mouth shut. My tone had taken him off guard. He glanced over at Kerrie, looking slightly panicked himself.

“Mr. Bravo stopped in to see if you’re available for lunch.”

I gave her a pointed look.

“I have a meeting, so no, I can’t. I’m sorry.” I replied as I looked back over to him.

“Steve actually requested to reschedule it earlier this morning. I just haven’t updated your calendar yet.”

My eyes darted back toward Kerrie. She gave me a wicked smile before continuing.

“So, you’re actually free for the next two and a half hours.”

I exhaled, then touched the fingers of my right hand to the side of my right eye that had started to twitch.

“Ok, thank you for that update, Kerrie. I guess I’m going out to lunch then. I’ll be back shortly.” My tone was clipped. I gave her a tight smile, dismissing her. She continued to give me a wicked grin as she walked out of the office, leaving Dieter and I alone.

We sat in silence for a moment, avoiding eye contact. I didn’t know what to say to him. This whole situation had caught me off guard and I was not handling it well at all. Yet I still managed to notice how amazing he looked in his dark fitted jeans and black t-shirt. He had sunglasses hanging from the collar of his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I probably should have called instead of just showing up.”

I continued to stare at him, unblinking.

“I mean, I did try to call several times, but I chickened out and hung up on whoever answered.” he added, sheepishly.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, reached down to grab my purse and phone, and walked toward the door.

“Come on. Let’s go,” was the only response I was able to give him.

I walked down the hallway, noticing several of the ladies staring.

“Don’t you all have work to do.” I said loudly, looking around as I walked through. They quickly pretended to busy themselves while giving sideways glances.

Dieter was following behind me as we went toward the back exit to the staff parking area. When I pushed the door open, Aubrey stepped back from the outside of the door to let me exit. I walked out and her eyes immediately shot up to Dieter, then back to me with a questioning look.

“I’m going out for lunch. I’ll be back at some point,” I said dismissively, walking past without really looking at her. I heard Dieter give a polite hello as he walked past, still following closely behind my brisk pace.

I walked over to my vehicle, hitting the unlock button on the handle twice to unlock both doors, then we both got in.

I started the car, then sat there for a moment and sighed.

“I have a feeling I’m going to face an inquisition when I get back.”

Dieter let out a small laugh, but then stifled it, like he wasn’t sure if it was ok to laugh at it.

“Did you have a place in mind you wanted to go to?” I asked him quietly. I stared out of the front window. Not really looking at anything. Trying hard to keep my breathing calm.

“No. I mean I noticed a place down on the corner if you want to go nearby.”

“I’m not going there.” I said, still staring out the front window. I could feel him looking at me. I slowly turned my head to look at him, not exactly meeting his eyes. I couldn’t.

“I know the owner. I got him fired from his previous place of employment, unintentionally. The company downsized on my recommendation. He doesn’t like me much.”

“Oh…it sounds like hanging out with you might be kind of dangerous,” he said, laughing nervously.

He was trying to ease the tension, but I was so wound up, that wasn’t going to happen. I just gave him a small smile and put the car in reverse.

I picked a small cafe about 10 minutes away that typically wasn’t very busy at this time of day. Lauren and I were regulars, so we usually got pretty good service. They let us sit out on the small back patio that was enclosed by tall hedges. We were the only ones sitting outside, which was probably a good thing, because I didn’t know what was about to happen.

I reverted to old habits, ordering a Long Island Iced tea, water, and a salad with grilled chicken. I had a feeling that I was going to need some liquid courage to get through this conversation. Once we finished ordering and got our drinks, we were silent for a few minutes. Neither of us really knowing where to start. I could feel that my jaw was clenched, I could only imagine what my face looked like. He finally broke the silence.

“Look, I’m sorry I just showed up. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“How did you even know where I worked?”

“Google.”

“I never even told you my last name.”

“I.. I saw it on your security badge. I-It was on your nightstand. I swear I wasn’t snooping or anything.”

I shook my head up and down, I had no argument with that. It has been out in plain view.

His hands caught my attention. They were bigger than I remembered, but the feel of them was still ingrained in my memory. He had the fingers on both hands tracing the grooves on the glass of his drink. He was obviously anxious too. Without thinking about it, my hand went up to my collar bone and started rubbing as I looked around. This was so fucking awkward. He broke me out of my thoughts by grabbing my hand and pulling it to the table. I looked at his hand sitting atop of mine, then pulled mine away gently, sitting it in my lap.

“Did I do something to make you mad in New York? I don’t understand why you’re acting so pissed at me.”

I propped my elbows on the table, putting my fingers on either side of my temple, rubbing, with my eyes shut. I sat like that for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts before answering.

“I’m not mad at you. You did absolutely nothing wrong. I’m just…kind of on autopilot mode right now… trying to keep myself in check. You did catch me off guard showing up at my office. You’re the last person I expected to walk through that door today.”

I opened my eyes to look at him and our eyes met for the first time since leaving the office. I noticed the sadness was there again and he looked like he hadn’t slept well in some time. I felt even more guilt for treating him so badly today. I continued speaking.

“I didn’t have time to prepare for this, so my anxiety kind of spiked on me because I didn’t know what to expect given everything that happened. This is just me trying to manage it. I actually feel like shit for not reaching out to you afterwards. I completely ghosted you; I know.”

“Honestly, that makes me feel a lot better. The way you were looking at me when I walked in, I thought you wanted to rip my head off. I think I officially got the full dose of the ‘fucking scary’ side of you.” He chuckled at himself. I finally broke a smile too, which caused him to visibly relax some.

“I’m sorry, I know, I really do need to work on that. My face kind of has a mind of its own though.” I shrugged.

“So do you want to talk about why you ghosted me?”

“That’s a little more complicated…”

The waiter appeared at that time to drop off our food and refill our drinks. After he walked back inside, Dieter picked up the conversation.

“I’ll be the first to admit that whatever that was in New York freaked me out a little. I’ve never experienced something that…intense before. Honestly, when I didn’t hear from you initially, I was kind of relieved.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, trying to figure out where this was going. He noticed the look on my face.

“BUT, after a few days, I was actually a little hurt by it. I felt like we…I dunno…maybe it's a delusion, but I felt like we connected. You know what I mean?”

I continued to stare at him, trying to digest what he was saying. My face giving nothing away. He looked down at his glass before he continued.

“At the same time though, I’m not sure I’m in a place that I can process and deal with whatever that was. At least I definitely wasn’t at the time. I felt like my fucking soul had been ripped out of me and laid bare in front of you. It was a lot for me and something I just wasn’t prepared for or have ever experienced.”

He understood it more than I ever thought he could. He felt it too. I could feel my chest tightening as my eyes fought to hold back the tears that wanted to fall. I took a deep breath reaching up to grab one of his hands away from his glass. He relaxed further and I immediately felt better as a result.

“Dieter, I…I actually get it. You put that into words better than I ever could have. I felt the same way. It was…overwhelming and scared me too. I think that’s the biggest reason I just left it all in New York. I couldn’t process it. I was seriously so fucked up at that point from my marriage, I didn’t even know who I was anymore. And to be clear, hooking up with random people is not something I have ever done before, so I was a little shocked and embarrassed at myself for that.”

“I was a little shocked at myself too because that isn’t something I do on the regular either. I was worried you thought I was a big man whore after that.”

“Why, because you’re currently one of the biggest celebrities in the world right now and could have any woman you wanted at any time?”

He sucked in air between his teeth and gave me a tight smile.

“So, you figured that out huh?” He laughed nervously.

“Hard to miss your face plastered all over billboards.”

“I’m sorry, I should have been honest about that. I was kind of thrilled by the idea of someone not knowing who I was. It helped me feel a little more at ease with you.”

“I figured. I won’t hold that against you.” I smirked at him.

“So how are you doing these days,” he asked.

“Well, I’m still kind of a mess, but I’m better than I was. I’m still working on things though.”

“Same.”

We sat in silence for a moment, both unsure of what to do with that information. I had to admit to myself that it was good to see him and good to know that he wasn’t mad at me. I watched him for a moment as he released my hand and started to shuffle his food around, my mind playing through all the scenarios this situation could lead to. I was more open to some of them than I would have thought. Dieter raised his head, giving me a questioning look.

“What’s going through that mind of yours right now?”

I gave a small laugh, “What isn’t?”

I leaned my head into my hand that was propped on the arm of my chair and shook my head, inhaling deeply. I wasn’t sure how to proceed. Dieter smiled back at me; he looked as deep in thought as I was.

“How about we just start over? Try to forget about New York. Clearly neither of us are really in a place for anything too serious, but that doesn’t mean we can’t just be friends. Right?” he asked.

“You’re seriously going to be able to forget about what happened in New York?” I asked with doubt in my voice and a small smile on my face.

“Well, no. It’s impossible. Those images aren’t going anywhere, but I can behave myself and just be here for you. However you’ll have me.”

I laughed at him. At least he was honest. I wasn’t going to be able to get those images out of my head either.

“Do you think we can really be ‘just friends’ after that?”

“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like you’re supposed to be in my life. It’s a feeling I can’t shake, and I think we can be good for each other. If it means it’s just as friends, then fine. I’m cool with that. I honestly didn’t expect anything more and I would love to have at least one friend that’s supportive of me getting my shit together.”

“Alright, so we’re gonna do the friend thing then,” I agreed. Feeling a sense of relief and a little excitement at the thought of him being a constant in my life. He did have a way of making me feel more relaxed. He nodded in agreement.

“So can you text me your number now?” he asked with a smirk on his face and a playful glint in his eyes.

“About that…I actually deleted your number as soon as I got on the plane in New York.”

I covered my face with one of my hands, then gave him an apologetic look through my fingers. He feigned shock.

“I knew if I didn’t, I would’ve called you,” I added.

“Damn, you are ruthless. You didn’t even give it a few days,” he said in disbelief as he shook his head at me. Then he reached over to pick up my phone, quickly held it up in front of my face to unlock it, then went to typing as I gave him a dirty look.

“Excuse you.” I said as he started to laugh, eyes crinkling as he did so.

“I’m putting my number in your phone again.”

A few seconds later, his phone buzzed.

“I’m also making sure I have your number this time. No more ghosting.”

“Oh, trust me, I can still ghost your ass if I wanted to,” I said laughing.

“Somehow, I don’t doubt that.”

The remainder of our lunch was filled with jokes and laughter. It was almost like we picked up where we left off, minus the flirting and sex. I was acutely aware that this was meant to be a friendship and I wanted to be cognizant of that line. I couldn’t cross it again.

Once we finished eating, we drove back to my office. He walked me to the back entrance, then stopped.

“Is it ok to give you a hug?” he asked timidly. I laughed at him and nodded yes. He wrapped his arms around me completely, pulling me in close. His face was in my hair, and I could tell he inhaled deeply. I wrapped my arms around his back and buried my face in his neck, taking in his scent. We stayed like that for a minute, before he kissed the top of my head, then pulled away. Our actions always saying what our words wouldn’t. We had missed each other, more than either of us would like to admit.

He smiled at me before turning to leave. “I’ll text you later this evening,” he yelled as he walked away. I watched him jog across the street to where his vehicle was parked. Once he reached his car, I went inside.

When I walked in, Aubrey and Kerrie were standing in the reception area. They paused and looked at me. They had been watching us through the window. I could tell they wanted to ask me a million questions. I stared at them and rolled my eyes.

“He is just a friend. Don’t get any crazy ideas.”

“That hug lasted a little longer than socially acceptable for a friend,” Aubrey said with a smirk on her face.

“He’s a friend I haven’t seen in a while,” I shrugged.

From the looks on their faces, you could tell they didn’t believe me.

“Anyway, I have things to do, so excuse me,” I said, walking to my office.

My last few afternoon meetings dragged on painfully slow. Through all of them, Lauren was texting me, asking for updates. She was going to be mad that I made her wait all day. It was driving her insane.

When I pulled into the driveway around five, Lauren was there waiting on me. I should’ve figured. I just laughed to myself and shook my head. I pulled into the garage as she got out of her car and followed me inside. I smiled at her and gave her a quick “hi” as she stared at me expectantly. I didn’t say anything else as I walked inside and sat my things down, keeping my phone in my hand. I went to the kitchen and pulled one of those cold coffee drinks out of the refrigerator and offered her one. She was still staring at me expectantly and did not respond.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked her, with a sarcastic tone.

“You have GOT to be kidding me. Come on, out with it! What happened?”

My phone pinged in my hand, and I glanced down at it without answering her. I chuckled, seeing the name that popped up. He didn’t list his number under his name. He put it under “Guy from the Bar”. I unlocked my phone to read his message, still ignoring Lauren.

DIETER: You home from work yet?

ME: I’m sorry, I am not sure which guy from this bar this is. Can you clarify?

DIETER: You’re HILARIOUS. Figured I would get creative to make it harder for you to delete as soon as I was out of sight.

ME: Now who’s the funny one…but to answer your question, yes, I’m at home.

DIETER: Can I call you? I hate texting.

ME: Yes.

I glanced up at Lauren who was looking at me like I had three heads.

“What is happening right now?” she asked. I smiled and shrugged as I walked toward the table to sit down. My phone rang and I answered.

“Hello mysterious stranger from the bar,” I said with a laugh. I could hear him chuckling and I felt it to my core. I was getting butterflies.

“Hello. What are you up to?”

“I am sitting here with Lauren, who looks like she wants to choke me because she has no idea what’s going on.”

He laughed again while Lauren flipped me the bird as she sat down in front of me.

“Who is that?” she mouthed to me. I waved my hand at her dismissively. She sat back in her seat, crossing her arms and eyed me grumpily.

“So, does Lauren know about me?”

“Yes, somewhat. She knows we met in New York. She’s the one I was on the phone with when you came into my office today.”

Lauren smacked her hand on the table with force while saying, “I KNEW IT” very loudly. Dieter heard her and started laughing again.

“That makes sense, I was wondering who you told to shut up.”

We both laughed at my earlier behavior.

“So, what are you doing tomorrow evening? Want to hang out?”

“Well, Lauren and I usually have dinner and hang out on Fridays.”

Lauren perked up, “Invite him over, I wanna meet him,” she whisper-yelled at me. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that or not. I gave her a warning look.

“What did she say?” he asked, chuckling.

“She wants me to invite you over to hang out with us. Do you think you can handle that? I’m warning you; she’s probably going to interrogate you.”

“I think I can handle it. What time?”

“We usually eat around six, but you can come earlier if you want. She usually helps cook or just hangs out until it’s ready.”

“Cool. I’ll do that. Can’t wait to meet Lauren. I think she and I will get along great.”

“Yeah, that’s my concern,” I said laughing. “You two better not gang up on me. I can see it happening already.”

They both laughed.

“Well, I’ll let you go since you have company, but I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Can I bring anything?

“Just yourself.”

“Alright, text me your address. See you tomorrow.”

“Will do, bye.”

After I hung up, I sent him a quick text with my address. Lauren was still eyeing me.

“So are you going to tell me what happened? Clearly it went well.”

“Just so we’re clear, he and I are only friends. Starting over. So, no suggestive jokes about me and him ok? I don’t want this to be weird.”

“Just friends? Really? Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts.”

She rolled her eyes at me and laughed.

“What are you gonna wear tomorrow?”

She was gauging my reaction. I shrugged.

“I don’t know, something comfortable. Let’s keep things chill. I’m not trying to impress the guy. Pretty sure I already did that.”

I gave her a wicked smile at my joke.

“Oh, you’ve got jokes now. Ok. I like the funny you. Keep those coming.”

My phone pinged with a text message and Lauren saw the name pop up. She started laughing.

“Is that him?”

“Yes, he said that’s how he put his name in my phone so it would be harder for me to find and delete it as soon as he was out of sight.”

She continued to laugh as I opened the message to check it. It was a screenshot of a map with directions. I stared at it for a minute, my brows knitting together, slightly confused. Another message came through.

DIETER: You literally live four streets over from me.

ME: No fucking way.

DIETER: Apparently so. LOL

ME: That isn’t weird at all.

Lauren was looking at my confused expression. I sat my phone down.

“I don’t think I want to tell you this.”

“What? Why?!”

“Because you’re going to start going on about fate or whatever again.”

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t going to let it go. I sighed, before giving a slight chuckle.

“He lives four streets over from me.”

“I can’t believe you all haven’t run into each other before now. I’m telling you, read the signs woman. The ‘powers that be’ have a plan.”

I shook my head, “Stop that.”

I got up and started straightening up the kitchen some. I should probably give the rest of the house a quick once over, I thought. Lauren got a text as I was running through everything I needed to do. She stood up saying she had to go, mumbling something about having to close the shop that evening because somebody’s kid was sick. As she was leaving, she mentioned how she couldn’t wait to meet her new bestie tomorrow and was looking forward to giving me hell. I gave her the bird as she pulled the door shut behind her, cackling loudly.

I spent the rest of the evening cleaning and prepping for the following day. I had to admit that I did feel nervous about him coming to my house. There was something so personal about him being in my space. You can tell a lot about a person from seeing where they live. I wondered what he would learn about me.

Even though I tried to play it cool with Lauren about what I was going to wear, I was completely stressed about it. I finally settled on dark denim shorts, a white tank, with a loose fit light purple long-sleeved mesh top. It was casual, but cute.

Around ten, I finally decided to call it a night and settled down in bed to watch some TV. Soon after, my phone pinged with a text message.

DIETER: Wanted to send you a quick good night message. Friends can do that, right? Can’t wait to see what you’re cooking for me tomorrow.

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. I wasn’t sure how well this ‘just friends’ thing was going to work out, given our history, but we needed it to. At least for now.

ME: Pretty sure that is acceptable for friends to do…good night. Make sure you rest up. You’ll need it for the interrogation that is sure to come.

He sent me back a thumbs up and a sleeping face emoji.

I laughed at him before setting my phone down. I set the TV timer and turned my nightstand light off. It didn’t take long before I was out.

Next Chapter

Tag List: @rhoorl

#pedro pascal character #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fluff #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x you #destiny & deliverance series #pedro pascal fanfic #pedropascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal characters #pedro boys #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedrostories #pedro pascal

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kidflashimpulse · 16 days

Note

NO BECAUSE OMG BART HAVING A SCAR ON THE INSIDE OF HIS MOUTH IS SO SMART

(Hi, it's me, the overexcited rambler dambler)

Because listen, just like you wrote, him appearing to not have scars sells the story of future tourist so well, BUT LITTLE DO THEY KNOW THAT THERE IS ONE HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT

I do kinda wish that Jay told someone, or managed to come through to Bart and have a real heart to heart with him instead of being roasted for being concerned (Bart "livestock get branded, it's literally common knowledge, I was about as important as a pig" Allen I'm looking at you, maybe you haven't acknowledged/realised it but there is SOMETHING hiding behind that titanium wall of yours)

It doesn't even need to be Jay, but maybe some day Bart will feel comfortable sharing this scar with Ed or Jaime (though Jaime would probably, like, want to fling himself to the sun if Bart ever told him) and just get some form of comfort out of it

(A funky addition would be that Ed found out by exploring if ya know what I mean🤭)

But that also leaves me wondering, like, since that brand is pretty unique in his time, how would Bart have passed in the camps after/if he escaped the Scientists? Did he draw a fake brand on his neck? Did the Scientists send him there after being satisfied with their tests and just knowing where he was/being able to pull him back whenever they desired?

Also his connections with the prostitutes was really clever, they're the ones who can coax information out of important people after all, allowing Bart to gather some necessary tech for his time machine. Genius genius genius. I'm just imagining a 12-year-old Bart casually vibing/downing booze with these people and nobody suspecting a thing when in reality he's plotting to break their reality down

omg it’s the return of an icon ❤️

honestly (hes unaware of it though) Jay seems to be respecting Barts very much unsaid wishes (bart doesn’t think he cares about who knows, but he seems to prefer the fewer the better approach in this case) by not telling anyone. I don’t think it’s intentional on his part, but u knw sometimes u do (or don’t) do things without realising

genuinely, it’s the funniest thing ever to me how everyone read that scene as bart roasting jay like 😭 he was just keeping it real but with his unshakeable attitude 😂 which honestly yeah that is basically sass, love it when characters and scenes take on a life of their own sometimes truly it’s so entertaining and such typical bart behaviour lol

idk if Jaime knows 👀 if he does i feel like itd be cause of Bart for some reason thinking it would be funny to show it to him and then Jaimes just like

yeah Ed 100% knows and for the exact reasons u mentioned 😂 i mean besides being at the dentists that’s pretty much the only other socially acceptable reason for someone to look into barts mouth at this point

i won’t go too much into the timeline of bart’s captivity as a lab rat vs him being in the camps as a slave, but they’re two very different stages of his life (he’s much younger as a lab rat whereas being a slave was closer to him leaving his timeline, a lot of stuff went down in between). I should’ve probably elaborated a bit more on it in the chapter, but whilst it was unique it wasn’t completely unheard of to not be branded on the neck, especially since a lot of their subjects were meta humans, there’s bound to be some variety of people that have it elsewhere. all that mattered was that u had the brand

“when in reality he’s plotting to break their reality down” that line goes incredibly hard, i’m obsessed ! love how that’s genuinely what he did though, like he’s crazy for real

thank u for sharing ur thoughts with us and for reading ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ i appreciate it so much 😘

#YJ asks #AAIT #bart allen fics #young justice fics #zetaflash #an anomaly in time

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baek-at-it-again95 · 1 year

Text

Walk The Plank (KHJ x fem reader)

Chapter 10: Your Story

You had grown up hearing tales about the infamous pirate crew ATEEZ—the fearless, power-hungry men that roamed the seas in search of the most valuable treasure they could lay their hands on. You almost didn’t believe the stories your mother had told you as a child...not until you wound up on their ship

Warnings for this chapter: romance haha, cursing, violence

A/N: Wow...I had begun writing this with the thought that this would be the final chapter, but I wanted to leave room for more potential storyline and now we have this. I guess we have a long way to go now. I seriously cannot thank you all enough for reading this story :) Even if it's just a hand full of you, I appreciate you to the ends of the world! Have a lovely night/day, and see you next week? ;)

Previous: Chapter 9, Masterlist

Chapter 10: Your Story

After arriving back at the ship, the crew is overjoyed and ready to celebrate your victory with a long night. The sun has just begun to set, and preparations have been made to set sail towards the mainland at dawn. There, you will all be able to rest for a bit and recover from your journey at sea. Perhaps you would be able to write to your mother and father to let them know you're alright...they must be worried sick.

On the main deck, everyone clinks their celebratory drinks together and exchange their words and laughter. You get to see San and Wooyoung dance around and fall over several times, making you laugh so hard you can barely breathe. You have a feeling you would witness them dance like this even when they're not drunk.

Deciding that just one drink is enough, you sit back and take in the pleasant scene of everyone enjoying themselves. You sit on the steps to the quarter deck with your side resting against the railing, reminding you of the night that Hongjoong had told you a story under the moonlight. You smile to yourself and look out to the sunset.

"Miss Y/N."

Seonghwa appears in front of you. "You do not have to call me that, Hwa."

"Right. I will get used to it m-....ahem...Y/N." His behavior is odd, his eyes not meeting yours for more than a second at a time...like he usually does when he talks to you about Hongjoong. You think you had finally connected the dots, noticing that he becomes a sputtering mess when he talks to you about one matter and one matter only. The captain. He must have something he's hiding...and you will take the opportunity to play dumb in the hopes that he lets something slip.

"My, Seonghwa, you truly worry me. Are you feeling ill again?" You stand up to raise your hand to his forehead, but he steps back and avoids contact.

"Oh, no. I am well." He clears his throat. "The captain requests your presence."

"Ah! Why have you not said so?" You smile, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear. "He seems to do that a lot. Thank you, Hwa. Rest well tonight, hm? You deserve it." Seonghwa looks as if he has something to say in reply, but he stops himself, simply smiling and giving you a respectful bow. You head to the captain's cabin, not really sure what to expect.

As you enter, Hongjoong stands up from his desk. "Y/N," he greets.

"Captain."

He smiles. "I hope I am not interrupting your celebration, my lady."

"Not at all. Why do you ask for me?"

"Well, I have not quite gotten to thank you yet."

"You have thanked me enough, Captain," you insist. You just now observe how lovely the man in front of you looks in his white button down, his skin like honey in the warm light of the oil lamps in the cabin. Suddenly it's harder to breathe. He takes a few steps forward and you remain in place. "Perhaps you have another reason?" you ask hopefully.

Hongjoong slowly draws closer, the gap between you closing until you are mere inches apart. You don't dare meet his eyes, preferring to look at the necklace on his chest as it rises and falls with his breaths. "You must be aware that since boarding my ship, you have been on my mind day and night." Your eyes find his in surprise and a soft gasp escapes your lips.

"You are a treasure unlike anything I have desired before, Y/N. I have not met anyone as impressive or intriguing as you. You are brave. Your knowledge is expansive, and you have this incredible ability to be kind to anyone. You are beautiful." His fingers gently trace your jawline before cupping your cheek.

"I must confess," you tell him. "You have also been on my mind." His eye seems to sparkle at this. "You are charming and respectable, Hongjoong."

"Thank you, darling." Hongjoong's gaze slowly falls to your lips. You quickly close the distance and bring your lips to his. He tastes faintly of rum and you smile between his kisses, thinking about how you must taste the same. His hand leaves your cheek and his arm finds your waist to pull you closer.

When you pull away to catch your breath, you smile at Hongjoong shyly. You bring your hands to his face this time, gently tracing over the leather of his eye patch, his cheekbones, and his lips that you already crave more of.

"Shall we go and continue celebrating with the others?" you ask.

"No." He laughs. You pout, giving him another quick kiss. His lips follow yours desperately as you try to pull away.

"Hongjoong?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"I demand that we go and celebrate."

"Are you the captain now?" He raises an eyebrow. You clear your throat.

"Yes."

"I see. Aye, my lady. Let us go." Hongjoong holds out his elbow and you take a hold of his arm with a grin.

***

You sigh after a long while of sitting curled up in the crow's nest, stretching out your back.

"What are you doing, Y/N?" Wooyoung asks, head appearing over the side as usual. You gently shut the journal in front of you, confident enough that the ink has dried.

"I just finished writing about our journey, Woo."

"May I read it?" he asks eagerly. "I've been practicing with San every day."

"Sure, love." You hand the journal to the curious boy as he sits next to you. You help him flip to the page you had started on, scooting closer.

"The first of them...that I met was...Wooyoung," he reads slowly, finger sliding across the page as he speaks. He chuckles. "You were so cute, I felt bad scarin' ya."

"And you tell me that now?"

"You're welcome." He looks back down at the page and continues reading. "He and Yunho...d...dragged me onto...their ship. They...b...brought me to their captain. I made a deal...with him in order to keep my crew safe. I did not know then...that I would end up being a pirate. It just worked out that way. Maybe it was m...meant to be." Wooyoung looks up from reading again to meet your gaze, his smile mirroring yours. You're so proud that he's getting better at reading. "I say it's fate!"

"I think so, too."

"The captain..." He stops as he giggles. "Has taken a liking to you."

"Wooyoung!" You cover your face as your cheeks start to get warm.

"I see the way he acts, sweetheart. He has always had the individual interests of his crew in mind, but your interests are of highest importance. He makes sure you're safe before anyone else. He talks about you when you're not there. Y/N, he is starstruck."

"Ah!" You hide your face in Wooyoung's shoulder. His body shakes as he laughs his adorable, contagious laugh. "hm tld mh of hs flngs lst nght."

"What?" Wooyoung asks, pulling your head away from him.

"He told me of his feelings last night."

"And?" he asks, eyes wide.

"And what?" You ask nervously, looking away from him.

"I knew it! You have fallen for him."

"Woo!" You cry, burying your face right back into his shoulder.

***

"Now that we have the Cromer, the next step is to discover how to harness its power. And that next step is proving to be quite difficult." Seonghwa sighs, scribbling down something in a notebook with his quill. "It figures that a magical artifact would be protected by confusing magic."

"The most stubborn I've ever seen," Hongjoong mutters, tapping on the hourglass with his hook.

"Joong," you sigh, pulling his arm away from the fragile object. It's been a frustrating time trying to uncover the powers of the Cromer before arriving to the mainland. You know the two are growing tired as they shuffle around the cabin, and you don't think it's necessary stress for them. "Let us take a moment away from this." You take Hongjoong's hand and rub small circles with your thumb, hoping it will bring him some peace. "You too, Hwa." You turn and gently take the quill from his hand. He gives you a tired smile, relieved to stop. Hongjoong places a light kiss to your temple.

"Y/N."

"Yes?" you ask.

"Yes, what?" Seonghwa asks curiously.

"Did you not just call my name?" You look between Hwa and Hongjoong and they exchange confused glances in return.

"No, love," Hongjoong says calmly.

"Oh..."

"Y/N." You step back from Hongjoong, confused. You don't think he had said anything. You look over to Seonghwa who has now stood up, looking worried.

"I heard it again," you say. You all quietly glance around the room before you start to move, first walking toward the door. Maybe Wooyoung is calling you from outside. Or perhaps San is searching for you to help him with something. You slowly open the door and peek out, only to see neither of the two. You shake your head and shut the door, now questioning if you had even heard anything in the first place.

"Y/N." You snap your head towards the Cromer. Seonghwa and Hongjoong look, too.

"From there?" Hongjoong asks. You nod, cautiously walking up to the hourglass. When your fingertips touch the top, a chill runs down your spine. You feel compelled to pick it up. As you lift it from the desk, you feel a bit strange. You blink a few times, your eyes adjusting to the dim room. Had it been this dark before?

"Hongjoong I-" When you look up, your heart practically stops. He is not there. Seonghwa is not there. In fact, you are not in the captain's cabin of the ship. You seem to be in some kind of building with a high ceiling; something that you have never seen before. Like it is from a different time. "Hongjoong?" you whisper into the quiet. Fear had begun to mix with your panic, freezing you in place.

A sound from outside brings your attention to the large open door, and you realize just how vulnerable you are at the center of this room. You look around for something to hide behind, spotting a large pile of wooden boxes in the corner. You run for them, trying to steady your breathing as the noise gets closer. A minute passes before a person dressed in all black clothing rushes inside, a hat shielding the view of their face. Following close behind is a large figure in white, a mask covering their entire head and neck. They look as if they are from opposite worlds. The figure in white catches up to the other, grabbing them by the back of their coat. In the process, the person's hat falls to the ground, leaving you in shock. It's Hongjoong. Well, someone that looks just like him. His hair is slightly different, but even in the dark, his features are unmistakably the same. And now he is struggling for his life against this mysterious figure in white.

He is going to be hurt if he continues. A part of you wants to stay hidden, but you simply can't sit and watch. Your hands shake as you abandon your hiding place, running towards the center of the room. "Let him go!" you shout. Both figures turn their attention to you.

The person in white throws the other man to the side and heads straight for you. "Shit." You just barely manage to dodge them as they lunge to grab you. You back away quickly, but they've recovered faster than you expected. They run straight for you again, and you're not sure you'll be able to dodge them this time.

"Move!" The man in black pushes you out of the way and you both tumble to the ground.

"Y/N!" Someone shouts. You manage to break free and jump to your feet, feeling dizzy when you see you're back in the captain's cabin. Hongjoong and the seven of his original crew stand before you. You rush over to the familiar captain whom you had left behind just moments ago, gripping his arms as you hide behind him.

"H-he..." you can barely form a sentence as the man in black rises from the floor where you just had. As he stands to full height, the color drains from everyone's faces. "He's you."

>>chapter 11

#kim hongjoong #ateez x reader #ateez reader insert #ateez au #ateez pirate au #kim hongjoong x reader #park seonghwa #song mingi #jeong yunho #jung wooyoung #choi san #kang yeosang #choi jongho #halateez

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jellymellydraws · 1 month

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Masterlist ~ <<Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter >>

Astarion x Dark Urge Chapter 16 Rating: E Tags: Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, two guarded people fall in love so hard it makes them stupid

Chapter Summary:

Tensions rise as the party enter the Selune Temple. Alfira comes face to face with what The Absolute and her followers are capable of. But before their composure can fall apart, they have an audience with the Drow in charge.

The atmosphere grew heavier, weighing on their bodies and minds. The thudding in her head grew unbearably painful. The clear image of the Chosen were now blurred as her vision struggled to maintain its focus.

“I am the Absolute,” the voice echoed around them, “my word is your will.”

The Absolute demanded a bow. Respect. Rose’s nose was pressed to the ground against her will.

“My power grows.”

When her tadpoles pressed its influence upon those pathetic little goblins— was it the same sensation she was forced to endure now? If she asked them to bow, would it be no different if she’d put her boot to their back and forced them to the ground?

If this was The Absolute, what powers did her Chosen hold?

It was almost too funny. She’d laugh if she wasn’t straining against the building pressure in her mind. To think: her lowly wretched self capable of fighting something akin to a God.

“My forces gather.”

With no memory of herself? No recollection of her life before the kidnapping?

Could she entrust that she was ever meant to be anything but a pawn with a purpose?

Maybe she was made to be a monster, after all?

The Absolute didn’t care. She wouldn’t cast her aside for the murderous thoughts that plagued the amnesiac. There was use for a broken minded assassin, regardless of what she remembered. The Absolute would not abandon her.

The Absolute loved her. She would embrace all who obey.

”The reckoning draws near.”

A soft prayer formed on her lips, silently mouthing words. She tried to do this once before, standing in front of a dying Kagha as her blood spilled between the cracks of stone flooring.

Now, the words were returning; Forming upon her lips and rolling silently off her flicking tongue. Though the taste was bitter, the sweetness of another connecting piece made up for it.

The Absolute awaits thee.

The Absolute embraces thee.

None escape The Absolute.

“All will be one, under The Absolute.”

A high pitched wizzing zipped above her head. Metallic plates and knobs shifted and twisted, softly clanking out of her view. The heavy darkness lifted away as a burst of golden light allowed her to rise. The fog faded from her thoughts. The pounding weakened.

The Absolute’s voice began to fade into the distance.

Quieter and quieter.

Until it was a whisper. Until it was no more.

Gone, entirely, from her mind.

Sitting on her knees, Rose was piecing together what in the hells just happened. How much of her thoughts belonged to her? How much to The Absolute? Was she truly freed from their influence or was it a matter of time before The Absolute claimed her?

The headache returned, to warn her against digging too deep into the recesses of her mind. She wouldn’t let the thoughts be lost to the void of her amnesia. The journal was pulled from her pack with haste, caring little for where she was as she scribbled in its back pages. Every little detail that lingered, would be committed to the page.

The elf, the human, the woman. The impressions she had to each Chosen stuck with her. They were staring right at her, as if directly connecting to her. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, but she had to move on. No time to linger on mysteries. Not yet.

Not now.

There was the way hearing The Absoluet made her feel that was unignorable. The feeling of loss and comfort. How, for a second, she was convinced succumbing to the voice was the right move.

It would’ve been that easy, wouldn’t it?

To let go?

The mysterious puzzle box zipped past her face, nearly slashing her hair as it went. She snarled at the mysterious item as it flew into Shadowheart’s palm. Everyone’s eyes were on that prism, which slowly dimmed its golden light.

“What in the nine hells was that?!” The bard cried.

Rose would like to know the answer to that, too.

Alfira helped her to her feet as Shadowheart scrambled to hers. Amber eyes narrowed towards their secretive cleric.

”Don’t look at me like that,” Shadowheart defended, “I don’t know what just happened anymore than you do. We should keep going.”

Bullshit.

The cleric’s stance was tense. Both hands held the prism close to her, guarded. The entire party began to crowd towards her. Some had questions about their brief hallucination, others, like Alfira, were more confused and concerned by the suddenness of it all.

The pounding in her chest found its way to her eardrums. Synchronously, the thudding matched the rhythm of her persistent headache. The assassin took a moment to inhale.

Exhale.

Easy, Rose. Don’t lose it.

Inhale.

You need answers.

Exhale.

She needs to trust you.

“I know those symbols,” Lae’zel hissed, “githyanki runes. Ancient as Vlaakith herself!” She stalked towards Shadowheart, “why do you carry it?!”

”That’s none of your business!”

“I think we’re past that,” Rose stepped calmly between the two. “That thing saved us, didn’t it?”

”How many of my people did you kill for it?!” Lae’zel continued to shout, held back by little except their leader’s extended arm. The bones would snap like a twig if the gith wanted to force herself through.

”Not enough,” Shadowheart shot back with hatred behind her eyes, “not enough to make up for what your kind did to them.”

This couldn’t go further. Any wrong step, and there’d be daggers to throats.

”Shadowheart!” Rose shouted above the two, “Did you know that thing was going to protect us? Yes or no!?”

Shadowheart hesitantly shifted her eyes to the party surrounding her. Then, they lowered to the ground. Rose kept a close eye on her, in case there were any attempts to leap off the bridge. Finally, she met her leader’s gaze.

”I didn’t, not exactly. All I know is it’s important I get it back to Baldur’s Gate. At any cost.”

“For your Goddess?”

”Lady Shar, yes.”

”Well, a Sharran!” Astarion chimed, casually draping an arm around Shadowheart’s shoulders. “My my, no wonder you’re so dark and broody. Why didn’t you say anything sooner? I’ve heard a thing or two about the Dark Lady— not quite to my tastes though, but I hear her clergy is stylish.”

”Blimey…” Gale shifted uncomfortably, keeping his response to himself in a soft voice, “I never thought I’d find myself traveling with a follower of Shar. Least considering how our goddesses do not get along.”

“I don’t care about the details of your holy mission,” Rose cut through the added commentary. “Tell me more about the artifact.”

”That’s all I know. My memories were suppressed before we departed, and I won’t get them back until I meet with my contact in the city. That’s the truth— all I remember anyway. For whatever that’s worth.”

“It’s worth plenty. Right, Lae’zel?”

Lae’zel’s leered with gritted teeth. Her breathing was controlled, slow. A fierce creature on the verge of pouncing. Alfira hesitantly approached, hovering her hand over the warrior’s back but careful not to touch.

”C-come on now,” she stammered, “shouldn’t this be a good thing? You were all in pain before right? And after that box came out, you were fine! I’m pretty sure that’s what I saw.”

Wyll put his hand on the bard’s shoulder, shaking his head at her failed attempt to calm the infuriated woman.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Rose addressed her as neutrally as she could maintain, “That voice? That power?”

“Of course,” Lae’zel spat. She was on the very edge of losing her complete and total shit. The hand on her hilt was warning enough.

”Lae’zel, listen to me: this artifact saved us. Whoever those chosen are, they want it, but they haven’t found it yet. It’s in our best interest to keep it safe.” She extended an arm towards Shadowheart, who was peeling Astarion off her, “Shadowheart intends to keep it safe— So: we’re still on the same team.”

Speckled yellow eyes focused on the artifact in the cleric’s hands as it shifted into her bag.

”…So it seems,” Lae’zel admitted, “But in due time, half-elf, your crimes will be paid for.”

”I just saved your life,” Shadowheart snipped, “but I shouldn’t have expected gratitude from you.”

Lae’zel bucked forward, ripping her blade from its sheath. Several hands latched onto her armor, holding her back as she took a swing. Rose pulled her dagger from its sheath, narrowly avoiding the swing of the longsword. A few strands weren’t so lucky.

Violet hued magic enshrouded Shadowheart’s hand as the cleric stepped forth. The gith struggled against the strength of Wyll, Alfira, and Gale, cursing in her native tongue. The cleric took another step forward. The dagger leveled with her throat.

“We’re not doing this!” Rose snarled. A second dagger was pointed towards Lae’zel in warning. “It’s over! It’s done! We’re moving on!”

”But we were having such fun,” Astarion muttered from off to the side, disappointed.

“If the goblins and drow are looking for that damned box, we have bigger problems than this bullshit spat. Get it together!”

Tension hung in the air, thick as miasma. Neither side would be the first to stand down. Nor would Rose, if they were unable to put the conflict aside.

On the other side of the bridge, the temple’s courtyard stirred with activity. Goblins poured out from the large temple doors, talking amongst themselves as they moved about. Her eyes shifted between the temple, the gith, and the cleric.

”Chk.” Lae’zel lowered her blade, “we’re wasting time.”

“Finally, something we agree on.” The cleric waved the magic away, briskly pacing towards the temple.

The gith was freed from the hold of her companions. A dirty look was shot towards Gale, who responded with a kicked puppy type of expression. Pointedly, she stepped by Rose’s side.

”Let us go,” she ordered.

She wasn’t the one to give orders here. She’d let it go for now.

The rest of the party entered the courtyard. Goblins gave them a passing glance but otherwise paid them no mind. Another perk of being a True Soul, it seemed— they could go just about anywhere they wanted!

Convenient.

To claim there were expectations on what they would find while inside was the greatest lie she could’ve told herself. The place was trashed to the hells and back. Wooden furniture and debri was stacked along the walls, some in various piles. Goblins pulled wood from various heaps to nail together next to the stone towers, forming some type of elevated walkway. Posts for archers, she assumed.

The symbols of Selune were thoroughly desecrated with paints and blood. Perhaps they were one in the same, considering the dark red tones. One repeating marking caught her attention. She saw it painted on almost every surface that had room. Upon closer examination, she noticed a goblin or two wearing the same symbol. Even the brand upon their skin matched this mark! The damned thing was everywhere!

A handprint, in which the palm was represented by a skull, and framed in a triangle. The mark of the Absolute.

Alfira froze in front of one of the stone walls, dotted with the bizarre sigils. She gripped the neck of her lute hard enough to turn her knuckles white. The disappearance of jingling prompted Rose to stop. The others quickly followed suit, turning their eyes towards the shaking tiefling behind them.

”Alfira?” Wyll asked, breaking from the group to check on her. Rose did the same, brow creasing with concern.

A single tear ran down Alfira’s blue cheek. Then another. Soon her cheeks were streamed by tears, but a fire in her eyes blazed. Wyll looked over her shoulder, concerned.

“They killed her…” the bard whispered shakily.

“Who?”

The usually bubbly bard’s teeth were bared, saying nothing as her shoulder lifted and fell with her breathing. Rose reached a hand for the woman’s shoulder, hesitating for a moment.

A guttural growl left the tiefling, Wyll’s eyes widened and looked to the purple haired assassin.

“We’ll exterminate this place, Alfira,” Wyll said, “that’s why we’re here.”

“We have to,” Alfira sniffed and wiped her face on her sleeve. “Every last one of them.” When the bard’s face started to dry, she was faced by an array of faces staring at her questionably. Well, probably a little shocked to see a murderous side of her show. At first, she put on a smile, but quickly dropped it, “sorry I…I saw this symbol before. When we were on our way to the city, we tried to avoid the goblins by traveling through the Risen Road. One night we made camp just inside a cave. We hadn’t realized that the area was occupied by gnolls, though. No one heard them coming before it was too late. We lost so many trying to run back, my teacher was one of those who didn’t make it.” Her voice quivered again, “I remember on one of them, they wore an amulet with this symbol. I-I didn’t think anything of it but now…”

”No one said anything about gnolls working with the Absolute,” Rose’s brows furrowed. The list of groups worshiping the ever powerful voice was growing. Did The Absolute find it easier to manipulate creatures that leaned closer towards the monster variety? “Are you sure it was this same symbol?”

”I’m positive.”

“The drow made sense,” Gale began, “but illithid haven’t been known to kidnap and tadpole gnolls.” He drew his fingers into the beard along his jaw, “Come to think of it, tadpoling goblins is also outside their usual patterns.”

“We haven’t seen a goblin tadpoled yet— there might be another method the Absolute uses to spread her influence.” Rose glanced up at Alfira, who looked back with unwavering certainty: the Absolute, somehow, was behind the gnoll attack. “Let’s see what we can learn today.”

She pulled the journal from her pouch and flipped to a page towards the back. Marked with a small fold in the bottom corner, a running list of tasks and names waited to have another line filled. At the bottom was now a new name, ‘Alfira’ and a brief note scribbled next to it. The image of their marked up map floated in her mind, and a dotted line formed from their current position towards the last known location of the gith patrol. The Risen Road was in the opposite direction.

“We don’t have time for any more distractions.” Lae’zel’s glare burned hole into her back. The impatience of the gith grew, transmitted through their tadpole connection.

Another headache was coming on.

“You’re jumping to conclusions, we’re still not sure what we’re dealing with.” Rose thought in response. Whether it transmitted was a mystery to her. Another thing to add to the long list of tasks: learn how they can leverage the tadpoles as a team. She closed the journal with a firm snap, pointedly tucking it away.

“Chk.”

The ogre who guarded the temple doors noisily opened them with a groan. More goblins poured out from the structure carrying wooden furniture and engaging in their own conversations. Among them, two humanoid figures stood taller, carrying wooden boards, and approaching the stone well.

The redheaded woman spotted the crowd and gasped with recognition. Hurriedly, she ran to the open well and covered it with the boards in her arms before she jogged up to Rose. Brynna, the woman they met on the road, greeted the True Soul with a respectful bow.

“True Soul, I am glad to see you made it safely.”

“Same to you, I was unsure if I’d see you after that storm.” Rose crossed her arms over her chest and looked past Brynna. A calculated gesture. As if she had just arrived, she scanned the area for a face she was certain was lost. “Where’s Sazza?”

“I’m afraid she didn’t stick around, ma’am. She went inside to give her report, and walked out grumbling something about catching up with Dror Ragzlin’s raid. I’d presume she followed them up north.”

This would have displeased her, as a True Soul. Her brows pressed together as a heavy sigh left her, slightly forceful to drive in how unacceptable this news was. Brynna stiffened.

”So who’s left that I can speak to about Absolute matters?”

”Priestess Gut, and Minthara,” the redhead quickly answered, “this way, I’ll escort you, True Soul.”

It was too easy. As soon as her back was turned, Rose let the smirk stretch across her face. She gestured for the others to follow her, reveling in the way Astarion and Shadowheart smirked back at her show. Even Lae’zel looked impressed, despite the permanent scowl. The ogre opened the doors for their approaching party, saying nothing as they passed.

Standing torches lined the long hallway, stretching to the central sanctum. Only two doorways to pass, but Goblin guards stood at the ready, eyeing the newcomers with caution.

“Oi, what we got here?” One of the guards squawked at Brynna, “food for the spiders?”

“A True Soul!” Brynna gasped, horrified. The goblin’s eyes widened immediately.

”Apologies ma’am! The Absolute blessed us with three— never would I have thought we’d be graced with a fourth! I didn’t mean to offend!”

Brynna looked back at Rose, a smirk no longer on her face as she watched the conversation transpire. She took slow deliberate steps to the goblin guard, examining her from behind her nose. Despite the fear in her eyes, the guard stood upright and braver than the ones before. The brand on her eye glowed with a familiar sense of power. Authority .

All it would take is a little push, and the pest would do whatever she asked. Tempting.

Her tadpole wriggled eagerly behind her eye. At the back of her mind, she felt the nudge from her companions as they waited for her next move.

One second.

She waited.

Two.

The goblin swallowed a lump in her throat.

Three.

”I’m feeling merciful today,” Rose flatly stated, “consider yourself lucky.”

The guard bowed low, “Thank you True Soul. It won’t happen again.”

She nodded curtly before looking to Brynna expectantly. The redhead continued down the hall, escorting the party to the depths of the temple.

The scent of burnt flesh wafted towards them, filling their nostrils. She salivated at the thought of how tender a meal she could have. But nothing was properly cooking there, except for the iron brands resting next to a decorated goblin. The Priestess, she presumed. Their eyes met briefly, and that same tugging sensation urged her tadpole. She felt a brief connection to the goblin before it was severed. A look of realization crossed her face, then a wicked grin as she nodded to her fellow True Soul.

Priestess Gut anointed another goblin, briefly saying some Absolutist prayer before grabbing the heated iron brand and pressing it into the hand of the kneeling goblin. He hissed in pain but thanked her for it.

Gold was exchanged between the hands of a goblin and a halfling, who looked over to the passing group with an intrigued smile. She offered a quick two finger salute towards the assassin before she walked up the steps to meet with two others. Their clothes were similarly dyed— likely from some type of guild. Curious to see anyone else working with the goblins. Perhaps the Absolute had its own merchant guild supplying her forces.

Continuing past the sanctum, Brynna walked the group up a set of stairs and to an open room. Shelves lined the walls of part of it. But as expected, there was structural damage there. A partially collapsed wall had a ladder leaned against it, acting as a shortcut to whatever was on the other side. The room looked like it had once been larger, but a chasm split the space in half. The only thing that connected the ground was a flimsy wooden bridge. It wasn’t even bolted down! The damned thing was a series of planks nailed together and layed flat.

A dark purple orb floated around the room. Once it turned to Rose, she could see a slit pupil taking up its center, and mystical swirled extending away from it like an iris.

A scrying eye…someone’s keeping watch on this place.

“I tire of your excuses, wretched goblin,” a firm voice carried from the otherside of the room. Brynna guided them straight towards it. “The only one to return from your scouting party was Sazza— all the good she was. Nothing but excuses for her cowardice.”

The corner of the room looked oddly similar to their command center— a large table was before them with a map rolled out, the shelf against the wall included various jars, books, and writing utensils. Rather than a charcoal stick to mark their map, a quill and inkwell waited patiently for their next use.

Elven silver glistened in the torchlight. The metal plates of armor were molded into folded feathers, which hung on the body of the drow woman. Her violet face was framed by strands as white as webbing. Blood red eyes narrowed as she scolded one of the goblins by her table.

“Sorry, mistress. We mucked up!” The goblin was hunched apologetically.

Pathetically.

The drow towered over him, her shadow engulfed his shrinking form.

”Perhaps you need another motivation,” she smirked with a glint in her eye, “until their sanctuary is found, I will take something precious from you. One thing for every hour that passes. A trinket. A tongue.” Then, darkly, “a limb.”

”I ain’t no use without my limbs, yer ladyship! I know the lads’ll make the prisoner squeal soon enough, I swear!”

”Silence!”

Her command resonated through the room. All movement stopped, except for the wandering eye. No one dared to speak. Gods forbid anyone of them sneezed.

“If your men do not have an answer before the raiders return, I will see to it that my spiders are well fed that day.”

”Yes yer ladyship.”

The goblin bowed low before scurrying past the party. Impatient red eyes trailed after him until he passed the approaching party.

”Tough day, I take it,” Rose smirked, confidently crossing her arms as she spoke. She was a True Soul, of course she would have the rank to speak so casually. At least, she hoped.

“I wasn’t expecting guests,” the drow’s eyes narrowed.

“Minthara, Ma’am—“ Brynna stepped forward, offering another bow to the woman, “this is the True Soul that replaced Edowyn.”

“I ordered Sazza to tell you I was on my way.” To speak with one of the same rank, confidence was key. She was supposed to be there. She belonged there. So long as she maintained that atmosphere, she hoped to pass as one of the cultists.

The drow’s eyes shifted, considering her words for a moment.

”So she was telling the truth? Hm,” the drow hummed, though her face was unamused, “well, at least she got something right.”

Rose nodded before looking to the redhead that had escorted her into the sanctum, “Brynna, you may go.”

Brynna bowed to the both of them before scurrying off, weaving her way between the rest of the party that stood behind the authoritative women.

As the drow, Minthara, examined Rose, their thoughts began to mingle. The feeling of a cold hand caressed her mind. Quickly, she tried to push back the discomfort, being reminded of the cool touch from her nightmare. The room around them fell away, leaving them in a dark nothingness.

A small vision appears between the two of them, with the drow listening as the pale elven woman whispers to her.

One of The Chosen.

Her blood began to boil once more, but she fought back. Their tadpoles connecting did not give her confidence that her thoughts were safe. Whatever this unprompted rage towards The Chosen were, it risked blowing her cover. She couldn’t allow that.

They were so close.

Too close.

The vision faded, and the darkness fell away. They were back in the temple.

”Praise be,” Minthara sounded relieved, “are you here to join my hunt?”

With a firm nod, Rose closed the gap between them.

“Fill me in.”

Next Chapter >>

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #dark urge #astarion #astarion x dark urge #baldurs gate 3 #durge #oc: rose #Fic: I've Got You #I've Got You #Durgestarion #angst #slowburn #slow burn #bg3 fic #astarion romance #spawn astarion

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saints-who-never-existed · 3 months

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Rereading The Terror

Okay, I've had a couple of days to process it since reading ahead last week. I'm still not over it but nevertheless I persist.

Suicide is, of course, a prominent theme in this chapter so I'll put everything under the cut again I think.

Chapter Fifty: Bridgens

Bridgens reflects on how, over the years, he's often likened his life to different works of literature. He compares his youngest years to works like Canterbury Tales which implies perhaps a search for meaning and identity with Bridgens casting himself as various characters, both heroic and otherwise.

In his twenties, anxiety and indecision again seem to come to the forefront as he compares himself to Hamlet: "...suspended between thought and deed, between motive and action, frozen by a consciousness so astute and unrelenting that it made him think about everything, even thought itself."

More specifically, this unsurety, this 'to be or not to be', centres around Bridgens feelings about his own sexuality and his thoughts about suicide. Unhappy with his life, unhappy in pretending to be something he was not, Bridgens contemplated ending his own life but seemed to have overthought his way out of doing so in the end: "...miserable that he could only think about ending his own life because the fear that thought itself might continue on the other side of this mortal veil, "perchance to dream", kept him from acting even toward quick, decisive, cold-blooded self-murder." I think this is very much worth noting. That he's contemplated suicide before but was always stopped essentially by the idea of not knowing what was on the other side.

In his middle-age, Bridgens compares himself to Odysseus and comes to think of his skill and knowledge as a Steward as a kind of shield, a means of self-preservation - "He used his craft to become and to stay invisible."

Back in the present, Bridgens compares himself to King Lear and around him, the march continues. They intend to follow the southern coast of King William Island, set up another camp, and watch the strait to see whether the ice will break up enough or whether they'll have to haul across it toward the mouth of Back's River. Bridgens does not intend to join them in this.

As mentioned in a previous post, he sets his own journal away inside his sleeping bag and carries only Peglar's with him as he gets ready to leave. :(((

Interestingly, Goodsir is aware of his leaving and aware, at least in part, of Bridgens' feelings and his intentions in setting off into the landscape. He makes a rather Classical sort of reference to suicide: "You sound like a Stoic, Mr Bridgens. A followed of Marcus Aurelius. If the emperor is displeased with you, you go home, draw a warm bath..." Which is just gut-wrenching all round as - I believe - that refers to the death of Seneca, who drew a warm bath and cut his wrists in it at the behest of Emperor Nero. And, again, it's interesting too given the manner of death Goodsir himself chooses later in the show... :(((

There's great beauty though as well as great tragedy in the understanding and connection Goodsir and Bridgens have clearly come to share. Goodsir brings things full circle in many ways by referring back to Hamlet: "...I just wish to take a walk this evening. Perhaps a nap." "Perchance to dream?" said Goodsir. "Aye, there's the rub," admitted the steward.

He then encourages Bridgens to stay, but doesn't belabour the point too much, simply expresses again great understanding and respect: "There are other men who can help you, sir, and who have hands far steadier - and stronger - than mine" "But no one as intelligent," said Goodsir. "No one I can talk to as I have with you. I value your advice." :'))) And right enough, Bridgens imparts an important bit of advice as the two men part ways that's really stuck with me since: "I've always agreed with St Augustine when he said that the only real sin is human pain."

Bridgens makes his way out into the wilderness and stops before it gets dark. His last meal is a stale ship's biscuit - "it was one of the most delicious things he'd ever tasted.". And if ever we needed further proof of the peace and tranquility that's overcome him in his final hours, we know that he thinks of a comforting past more than a miserable present as he enjoys his final sunset - "the kind of sunset that Odysseus, not Lear, would have seen and enjoyed."

He reads through Peglar's papers one final time, reflects again on "one of the most intelligent human beings he'd ever known". Whatever fear Bridgens might once have had about the Great Unknown that follows death, it's gone now and replaced, I think, with a certainty that whatever the afterlife may bring, Harry Peglar will be a part of it. At that, he lies down for his final rest. "John Bridgens was asleep before the last of the grey sunlight died in the south.

#The Terror #The Terror AMC #Observations #Random Observations #Meta #Rereading the Terror #Terror Spoilers #tw Suicide #cw Suicide #Suicide #John Bridgens #Harry Goodsir #Henry Peglar

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n3on-graveston3s-calling · 4 months

Text

The Fall of the House of C: A History of Sir Crocodile

Part I: Death of a Child

Rating: M

Word Count: 11,842

Warnings: Destruction of a kingdom, Murder, If you think that the World Government wouldn't do that…yes they would, pre-transition Crocodile, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence

Characters: Sir Crocodile, Donquioxte Doflamingo, Donquioxte Homing's Wife, Monkey D. Dragon, OCs

Author's Notes: Hello hello! If you're reading this, welcome! This is a very big, very loved project in which I decide to take on the task of creating my version of Crocodile's history, since Oda still hasn't revealed it. This is a monster of a fic; the first chapter is 11k words, the second chapter will be just as long- if not longer. This will be a two-parter, I'll finish the second half up when I'm able to (hopefully within the next week or so).

Now, the details you need to know before going into this story:

-Jun'Ichi is an OC of mine; he works as Crocodile's essential Guard Dog, has been loyal to him for twelve long years and will continue to be loyal to him.

-Milorad is an OC that has intimate connections with Crocodile, as well as a few other characters. They run a Brothel and own an entire island of which is only for… Pleasure.

-Every character you meet in Crocodile's history is an OC, but they all play vital roles.

This is purely work of my own creation; I think Crocodile is an interesting character and the concept of Kingdoms existing in each region of Blue is something that just scratches my little brain so well. ( history nerd ).

Without further ado, please do enjoy the first part of The Fall of the House of C. [ You can also read it on ao3, here. ]

The room was quiet, unlike the cacophony of sounds coming from downstairs in the parlor. Slow footsteps drew across the floor of the lavish rooms, drawing the attention of the man sitting by the window, though he didn’t look up. His gaze was trained on the crowd below, searching for any sight of white and blue uniforms. “They will not find you here, Crocodile.” They murmured, hand coming to rest upon his shoulder gently. Their nails pressed into the fabric of the coat gently as they squeezed. He glanced over, studying their hand for a long moment. Nails- fake, no doubt acrylic with how they were filed into sharp points- painted a vibrant shade of red that would catch the eye regardless of how they held their hand. Said hand was attached to an arm, intricately tattooed with blue linework that should have been at home on an expensive tea set and yet instead had been placed upon a body.

“You sound certain.” Crocodile murmured, gaze lifting to study Milorad’s face curiously. They hadn’t aged in the years he’d known them; hair such a stark silver it almost appeared white, falling in silk layers to their hips. They had offered him a place to lay low after the Impel Down escape- and the subsequent war that occurred afterwards.

They sighed, shifting away, the lavish gown they wore dusting against the floor. A silk the color of emerald with black feathers along the hemlines and cuffs with a plunging neckline, showing the flat chest and even more intricate tattoo work. Milorad had once been a pirate that sailed with the infamous Fujihara Pirates, a group that had once been a terror on the Grand Line- until they met their unfortunate end at the hand of their own children. Before that, he wasn’t sure what Milorad had done; they never did give solid answers. This and that, that and this- and now they own the island that had been dubbed Pirate’s Paradise. Brothels run in a manner of which Crocodile wished all were run, with respect to the workers and strict rules that must be followed, unless you wanted to end up with a bullet between your eyes.

The bathroom door opened, spilling out steam and the scent of whiskey and vanilla musk. Jun’Ichi stepped out, towel around his shoulders, dressed aside from a shirt. His long, black hair was still wet, dripping until he brought the towel around the ends, squeezing gently. “Thank you for allowing us to use your room,” Jun’Ichi spoke, lips curving into a small, if not crooked, smile- due to the scar that trailed up from one corner of his lips. A partial Dahlia. He’d had it when he appeared in Alabasta twelve years ago, begging for a job.

He was still here.

“Of course, darling,” Milorad purred, crossing over to take over, drying Jun’s hair for him with gentle caresses. “Any member of Crocodile’s crew is always welcome upon my Island. Did you enjoy your shower?”

“I wish we had something like that on the ship!” He joked lightly, though his gaze was wary, watching Crocodile watch him.

A knock sounded on the door, drawing all attention over as Daz opened it, poking his head in. “Coast’s all clear.”

“Good. Go grab some supplies.” Crocodile sighed, dragging a hand through his still slightly damp hair.

Milorad’s hand reached out, fingers curving around the edge of the door. “I need to make my rounds. Do be sure to grab something to eat, it will be on the house, Elio.” With that, they slipped out, the scent of their rose parfum escaping with them. Jun’Ichi plopped down onto the bed, his gaze still lingering on the door.

“Milorad is to you as a mongoose is to a cobra. They will eat you alive and keep your corpse around for fun.” Crocodile warned as he opened the case on the small table, pulling free a cigar.

Jun’Ichi hummed as he looked away. That wasn’t why he had been staring. Sure, Milorad was a stunning individual with a voice that sent chills across his skin, but the name… Elio. Did it mean something in their mother tongue?

“Gods, I can hear the gears turning in your head from here.” Crocodile muttered, rubbing a hand over his eyes as smoke spilled from his lips. His fingers idly tapped the cigar against the ashtray. “Ask.”

“What does Elio mean?”

“Not what, who.”

“Pardon?”

“Jun’Ichi, are you stupid? Were you dropped on your head as a child, perhaps?” He taunted as the cigar returned to his lips, his gaze sliding slowly over to Jun’Ichi as the scent of cloves began to linger in the air.

He bristled, jaw clenching. That was bait. “No- then who does it refer to?”

An exhale; a cloud of smoke billowing into the air. “Myself.”

“Elio is your true… Surname?”

“Given name. Conti is the surname.”

“Elio Conti.” The pause that settles in the air grows pregnant. “From… From the House of Conti?”

“The one and only.”

“Is that why you don’t talk about your past?”

“One of the reasons.”

“Is that the secret that Ivankov has?”

“No.” He watched in amusement as Jun’Ichi’s features twisted themselves into a confused mess. Nose scrunched up, brows furrowing in. Even after twelve years, the man knew so very little. And truthfully, Crocodile preferred to keep it that way- but it didn’t seem as if it would be staying as such. Kicking his feet up on the arm of the chair across from him, he settled in, eyes closing. “It’s a long story. I suppose you deserve to know at least some of it, yes?” He had been loyal for over a decade, had stood by his side even when Nico Robin had abandoned him for her lies, for her own agenda.

“It all began on an island in the South Blue…” ───

Forty-five Years Ago Isole del Carrozze, South Blue The House of Conti

“How is she?” Gian Carlo Conti, Lord of the House of Conti, asks the doctor as he steps out, wiping his hands clean of blood. “My wife, how is she?”

“She is well. Congratulations, my lord- you have a daughter.” The Doctor, a peculiar man with the most intense blue eyes Gian Carlo had ever seen, smiles at him. “You can go in and see them both.”

Pushing past the doctor, he throws the doors open, lips curling into a bright smile at the sight of his wife and newborn daughter. “Oh, amore mio!” He cried, rushing to her side to wrap an arm around Francesca, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Look at you! Look at her!” Cooing as he drew back, studying his daughter. He reached up, brushing a finger against her rosy cheek. “She looks like you.”

“Good, she should, after what she just put me through,” Francesca groaned as she settled back against the pillows, her brows furrowing in discomfort. “She is a big baby, she takes after your side for that.” Teasing gently, she gazed up at her husband, lavender meeting emerald. “We have a daughter.”

“I am so happy,” he whispered, tears welling up in his gaze. “I did not think we would ever see this day! A daughter…”

“... I had hoped for a son,” Francesca admitted softly, shaking her head as she gazed down at the girl. “But I will love her regardless, for she is ours, and she is our future.”

“The future of the House of Conti.”

“Welcome to the world, Eli.”

Little Eli cooed, not yet aware of the dangers that lay ahead for her. No, all she was aware of was how warm the blanket that she was wrapped up in was, the faint hunger she felt in her little tummy, and the soft voices that spoke overhead. She couldn’t see, not yet; couldn’t understand them, either, but she felt warm, and safe, and happy.

Lady Eli Conti, the only child born to Gian Carlo and Francesca Conti, was born on the fifth of September in the early morning hours. The first and only child born to the Lord and Lady of the House of Conti, and who would grow to be the only remaining child of the House of Conti. The House itself would be left to ruin, the family no longer living. But how does this happen? How does a family that had once considered itself to be one of the largest royalties in the South Blue simply fall to ruin over the span of a decade?

Well, darling, isn’t that the question.

It all begins with a man- as most tales do, unfortunately. ───

“Wait, hold on.” Jun’Ichi interrupted, waving his hand in the air.

Crocodile sighed, head lolling to the side to stare at his underling. “What?” He snapped, annoyed at having been stopped from his story.

“Did you have a sister? Like, an older sister?”

“... No.”

“Then who the fuck is Eli?”

A slow smile spread across his lips as he laughed, shaking his head. “You’ll figure it out soon enough. Ne, call down to the kitchen and have them send us up something. Daz is taking too long.”

“Probably got distracted by that pretty waiter he couldn’t stop staring at earlier,” Jun muttered as he leaned over, taking hold of the Denden. ───

40 Years Ago Isole del Carrozze, South Blue The House of Conti

“Elia Luna Conti, get back here!” Came the voice of the mean tutor. Eli didn’t listen, running as fast as her two legs could carry her through the grand halls of the manor. Step after step, she ran, turning this way then that.

‘He doesn’t know these halls like I do,’ she thought as she ran, breaths puffing out of her. She turned the next corner and came skidding to a halt, very nearly toppling into the back of the legs of a very tall man. He turned, staring down at her with obvious amusement. His beard was long, as was his mustache- and the hair on his head. Why did he have so much hair?

“Eli!” Momma hissed, and Eli turned, eyes widening further at the sight of her mother dressed all formal. She was wearing the pink gown, the one with the white lace that felt scratchy against her hands and arms when Momma held her. “I’m so sorry, you must forgive my daughter-”

“Such is the delights of children.” The funny looking one with the hair spoke, and when he spoke, his long mustache bobbed with the movement.

Momma came to her, sweeping her up in her arms to hold her close. “Eli, why aren’t you in your lessons?” Her voice was soft, but not sweet. Why was she not being sweet with her? She didn’t understand why she was being scolded. She was tired of her lessons, she’d been in there for what felt like ages. “Momma and Poppa are in a very important meeting-”

“She may remain.” The one without hair spoke, his face stern and mean and it reminded her of her tutor. “We are almost finished here.”

“Of course.” Poppa nodded. Momma settled her on her lap, even as the lace scratched against her arms. She didn’t wiggle free, though, not now. This was a serious thing, even though the words didn’t make much sense.

“You understand why we must be made clear of the nature of this… Issue, yes?” Baldy asked Poppa, who nodded. The curls he had bobbed with the movement. She wondered if her hair would ever curl like his. She had Momma’s hair, straight and thick, but it wasn’t blonde like hers. “If this proceeds, and you continue to bleed into the red, we will be forced to intervene.” She had Poppa’s color, down to how her skin tanned in the sun during the warm months. “I understand that those who target you are skilled, but you have an army at your disposal.”

“We have no Navy,” Poppa’s voice was tense. Was he angry? He looked more scared than angry. Why was he scared? Why were Momma’s hands shaking? She didn’t understand.

“You have canons. You have ground artillery. You have the means to protect yourself.”

“Not if the World Government pulls away from our shores!”

“That is simply not up to you to decide.” Mister Mustache sighed, shaking his head. She wanted to reach out and touch his hair. It looked soft. Did he brush it one hundred times, like Momma did with her hair every night? “There have been other issues popping up in the East Blue. You’ve heard of them, no?”

“The Dark King and Roger, no?”

“And Whitebeard.”

“Whitebeard is in the North Blue?” Momma asked, her head tilting. It made her earrings jingle; she reached up to play with them, though Momma moved her hands away. She pouted. “Or has he moved out?”

“He’s made his move to the Grand Line.”

“But that is not our topic of discussion. You know your time limit. You know what must be done. If you do not succeed-”

“Will you send Cipher Pol to our doorstep, then?” Poppa asked, rising to his feet. The other men rose quickly. Was Poppa going to fight? She hoped he would. The last time he fought, he won, and then they celebrated! But that was on the back of one of their horses, and he was wearing a suit of armor. This didn’t look like that kind of fight. What was Cipher Pol? That was a funny name. Were they entertainers? She looked up to Momma, watching the way her eyes flickered between the three men.

“We will do what we must.”

“As will we.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It is a promise.”

Eli stopped paying attention, then. She was focused on Momma’s necklace; enlaid with so many diamonds, she couldn’t even begin to try to count them. Diamonds and emeralds, those were her jewels, Momma said. The same way that gold and emerald were Eli’s. The men were leaving, Eli noticed, watching as they walked out. The one with the beard gave her a little wave, and she waved back. Momma was talking quietly to Poppa, whispering.

“Eli…” Poppa sighed as she turned to face him, reaching over for him to take her. “Eli, you need to go back to your studies, okay? Just for a little bit.”

“I do not want to.” Eli huffed, flopping forward against her father, who made a funny little ‘oof’ sound. “He smells of fish and talks weird.”

“Well, he is part fishman.” Momma sighed, reaching over to brush her fingers through her hair. “... Perhaps we can take a break today, no? I believe we could use some time in the gardens.”

“Yes!” Eli cheered, sitting back up. Poppa smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes were sad. She reached up, patting at his cheeks. “Do not be sad! Happy. Happy Poppa!”

“I am happy, mio angelo.”

She didn’t believe him, but the gardens were calling for her. “Garden! Can we have a picnic?”

“Well,” Momma glanced at the big granddaddy clock, studying the time. “I don’t see why not? A picnic lunch in the garden would be wonderful. Come, Gianny.”

“You have to use the nickname,” Poppa leaned over, giving Momma a kiss to her cheek that had Eli giggling, “Call for the kitchen to prepare us something light. I do not wish to spoil dinner.”

“Ovviamente.” Momma left, her skirts swirling about her legs.

Poppa carried her out of the house. As they passed the room her tutor was in, she stuck her tongue out at him. He did not laugh. He adjusted his funny little glasses and gathered up his boring schoolbooks. Good, Eli thought. He could leave and never come back! She didn’t need him. She could learn from Poppa and Momma.

He set her down, watching as she bolted down the marble steps and into the rose garden, giggling up a storm. “What are we going to do?” Gian murmured as Frencesca settled in at his side, her arm curling around his own.

She didn’t answer him at first, her lips pursed into a small frown. ‘She’s going to get her dress dirtied again.’ She thought, before considering her husband’s question. “... Perhaps we should contact a shipbuilder? We could have at least one ship fit for fighting off those damned pirates.”

“I’m worried, ‘Cesa.”

“I know, Gianny. I know. But… Let’s worry another day, yes? Not now. Look at our daughter! Look at how she’s having fun. I think…” She reached down, tugging off the heels that had been hurting her feet all morning. “I’m going to join her!” With that, Francesca gathered her skirts and ran down the stairs, listening to the way Gian laughed behind her. Eli squealed as she scooped her up, spinning her around and around.

Elia Luna Conti is five years old. She is happy. She is loved. She is safe. ───

Thirty Nine Years Ago Isole del Carrozze, South Blue The House of Conti

“I don’t WANNA!” Eli yelled, struggling to sit still in the chair. “Why do I have to keep my hair long?”

“Because it’s proper for a young lady,” Miss Katherine sighed as she brushed out Eli’s mane that she called hair. First, it was the struggle with the bath. Then, the struggle to wear a dress rather than trousers. Now, a struggle with the hair. “Sit still.”

“I’ll cut it all off!”

“If you do, your mother will weep.”

“It’s not her hair!”

“Why do you have such a problem with having your hair long?”

Eli went quiet. She didn’t like the way she looked with such long hair. It was too thick, for one, and for two, she didn’t like how hot it made her. Or the silly hairstyles Miss Katherine would do. Or the way her mother’s nails would snag in her hair on a tangle. She didn’t like wearing the dresses either. They felt weird on her body, like they were made for someone else, not for her.

… They made climbing trees difficult, too. And running. Kicking balls.

“Dunno,” she answered after a while. Miss Katherine sighed and settled simply on braiding her hair. “Sometimes, I wish I was born a boy, so I wouldn’t have to sit here and do all this junk.”

“Don’t we all, Miss Conti, don’t we all.”

No, Eli thought. No, we don’t all think that. She stared at herself in the mirror with a frown. She wondered if she could convince her mother to let her wear the trousers and blouse today, instead of the stuffy green dress with scratchy lace. It wasn’t even one of her favorite dresses; the green was too light, the lace wasn’t detailed! “Why is this dinner so important?” She asked, kicking her feet in the chair as Miss Katherine stepped around to the front of her. Her eyes were blue, and her hair was gray, and she had wrinkles. A lot of them, Elio noticed. Elio. That’s what she had started referring to herself as. It sounded better than Eli, which grated on her ears, or Elia, which didn’t even sound like her name. No, she much preferred Elio. Elio Luna Conti; that was a strong sounding name for a strong… Girl.

“It simply is.” Miss Katherine hummed as she fixed the small hairs around her forehead. “... Do you really wish to not wear this dress?”

“No. I feel like a fat frog in it.”

Miss Katherine sighed; she had lost this battle, it seemed. “Very well. Go change into your trousers and pick out a shirt.”

Elio beamed as she shuffled out of the chair before bolting to her bedroom. Her heart raced in her chest as she approached her closet, throwing open the doors to stare at the many dresses that hung. Shoving them aside, she grabbed for the deep green blouse that made her think of pirates, with its poofy sleeves and ruffled collar. They wanted her to wear green, so she would wear green. But not that ugly dress with the cheap, scratchy lace. No. This was better. More comfortable than that stupid old dress. Where had it even come from? She wasn’t sure, really. Certainly not from their tailor, not something that her mother would have had made. Perhaps it was a gift? That's more likely, she decided as she tugged the shirt over her head. Better.

Much better.

The next task at hand was to find a pair of trousers that would match what she wore. Would brown be a good idea? Or perhaps black, considering how rich the green of the fabric was. Certainly not something light colored, especially for dinner. That was asking for a mistake, for her to drop some sort of sauce on her trousers. No, she would need to find something dark.

“Perhaps a skirt?” Miss Katherine asked as she entered the bedroom, closing the door behind herself. She paused, looking at the girl- at the way she had somehow managed to mess up all her hard work with her hair. They were simply out of time for her to try and fix it, now. Grumbling under her breath, she shuffled over to the closer and began rummaging around. “But you would prefer to wear trousers, wouldn’t you?”

“Trousers, please!” Elio agreed, clambering atop her bed with a grin. She faced the mirror beside her bed, reaching up to undo the annoying little pins that Miss Katherine had placed in her hair, tugging them out. “Can you just… tie my hair back low? Like Poppa’s?”

“Yes, I suppose I can.”

And that was how Lady Elio Conti made her way down to dinner, dressed in a richly green silk shirt, dark brown trousers, a pair of heeled boots that Katherine was almost certain were her riding boots, and her hair tied back- just like her Poppa’s. Momma sighed when she saw her, shaking her head in amused frustration. Of course Elio wouldn’t wear a dress; she detested those things, now.

“There she is!” Francesca cooed, leaning down to scoop up her daughter into her arms. The dress she wore was complimentary; a rich emerald dinner gown that had black velvet embroidery work sewn into the fabric along the body of the dress. “There’s someone for you to meet, Elio!”

“Who?” It was rare for other children to visit the House of Conti. She leaned around her mother’s shoulder, catching sight of an odd looking woman who wore the strangest clothes- and a bundle of fabric that wriggled in her arms. A fat little arm struck out, reaching up to the woman’s face. She had light blonde hair, lighter than Momma’s own. “What’s that?”

“That,” Francesca whispered as she stepped closer, “Is a baby.”

“It looks funny.”

“Well, yes, so did you as a baby!”

“What’s it’s name?” Elio asked the woman, watching the way she looked up. She looked tired, she noted; the same way Momma does after a long day. Maybe they had to travel a long way to get here? That would make sense; they don’t live on this island.

“His name is Doflamingo.”

“Like the bird?”

“Yes,” the woman laughed at that, nodding her head. “Just like the bird.” ───

“Wait, so you met Doflamingo when he was a baby?” Jun’Ichi asked as Crocodile stretched; the sun having set over the horizon. The sounds of muffled pleasure drifted through the crack under the door. The brothel was certainly in full swing tonight, it seemed.

Crocodile’s gaze swept across the room, studying the little trinkets that Milorad kept. “Yes. Of course, I wouldn't put two and two together until much later in life, after he’d made a name for himself.”

“Does he know?”

“Doubtful. That was the one and only time that the Donquioxte family visited, as far as I know.”

“Huh…” Jun shifted, rolling over in the bed to stretch out his limbs. “You’re six years old, at a formal dinner.”

“The dinner isn’t important. What happens after is what’s important.” ───

Thirty Nine Years Ago Isole del Carrozze, South Blue The House of Conti

The voices were hushed in the hallway. Elio paused as she cracked her door open; she needed to potty, but something told her to wait. To stand here and listen. What that was, she isn’t quite sure; perhaps a sixth sense, perhaps a ghost of family members long since passed. Either way, she pressed her little body against the wall beside her door, leaned her head as close as she could to the crack, and strained to listen.

“She’s just a child, Gian!” Momma hissed; she sounded angry, angry enough that it made Elio wonder if something had happened. “You can’t seriously be considering this!”

“I don’t think we have much a choice!” Poppa replied, sighing heavily. “I know the Marine; he’s a good man. And he has a son a few years older than her. If we are able to enter into a talk of some sort, we could promise her to him, and then we would be fine. Safe. She would have a place to go!”

“But marriage?”

Marriage? For who? Elio frowned at that. One of the serving girls? But why would they be talking of marrying a serving girl off? That made no sense. They couldn’t be talking of her, could they? She was only six! She didn’t even know how to play the viola yet! ( Her lessons were going good, though; she was a natural, according to her tutor. Almost as good as she was at playing the piano, but she liked the viola more. It was prettier, easier for her fingers to reach, even if it made her arms sore after playing for longer than ten minutes. )

“Monkey D. Garp is legendary and has climbed the ranks of the Marines quickly,” Gian Carlo explained, gaze trained on the fire that crackled low, slowly dying in the late night. Francesca huffed, pacing across the rug in front of the window that offered a lovely view of the lower garden, where they grew their produce. “And his son is showing promise.”

“You mean Monkey D. Dragon?”

“Yes.”

“You want to marry our daughter to someone who has the Will of D?”

Elio fell still; it felt as if someone had doused her in ice water. Marry her? But she was just a kid! She couldn’t get married! She leaned closer, straining to hear her parents.

“I want to arrange a marriage of politics to ensure that we will not be slaughtered like cattle in four years, Francesca!” Gian’s voice rose sharply, echoing against the walls in the reading room. He turned to face his spouse, his chest rising and falling quickly. His gaze was wide, frantic; fearful. “After what we have learned tonight-”

“We haven’t had anything confirmed. You know how the Donquioxte family is; they’ve always been filled with paranoia and power.” Francesca countered, attempting to ease her own anxiety. “Remember what they used to say when we were young? Every time a Donquixote is born, the Gods hold their breath and flip a coin!”

“Have you forgotten the threat that we already received?” Gian’s voice had a nearly hysterical tone to it now, pitched upwards in a way that made Elio’s skin crawl, had her arms wrapping around herself. “I will NOT sit here and watch the minutes tick by as we do nothing!”

“Do NOT raise your voice at your wife!”

“I WILL DO AS I PLEASE!”

The next sound was one Elio hadn’t heard before. It was sharp, sudden; echoing across the halls, bouncing round the corners. It felt as if the house itself had stopped in that moment, ceasing all activity. Mice had gone still, the clocks ceased to tick. “Do not. Ever. Speak to me in such a manner again, Gian Carlo Conti, or I will be the reason you fear the night. Do you understand me?” Francesca spoke in a clear, even tone, her chin raised high, lavender gaze sparkling with anger no longer subdued. “Go to one of the guest rooms. We will not be sharing our bed until you have the balls you claim to possess to apologize to me.”

Poppa didn’t respond, even as Momma walked away. Elio shrunk back from the door, hands damp and cold and shaking, pressing to her cheeks as she tried to quiet her breathing. She made her way back to her bed, climbing back up and under the blankets. Her parents had been fighting- over her. Over marrying her. She didn’t want to be married. She was only a kid, she didn’t want some icky husband, especially one with the name like Monkey D. Dragon. Who names their child after two animals?

… She didn’t want to marry. She didn’t want to wear a white dress. She didn’t want to be a wife.

Elio curled over on her side, pulled her blankets up higher, and fell back to sleep with newfound worries plaguing her young mind. ───

Thirty Eight Years Ago Isole del Carrozze, South Blue The House of Conti

Breathe in, breathe out. Chin level, gaze settled on the target in front of her. She drew the bowstring back, taught in her hand, leveled the arrow, and released it with her breath. The arrow loosed from the notch, screaming softly through the air with a sound akin to a bird’s cry, and struck home in the center of the target’s big, red bull’s eye. Behind her, her father applauded her. “Well done, mio caro!”

“Do you think we could move it farther back next time?” Elio asked, glancing up towards her archery instructor, who nodded.

Penelope was a strong woman; a short giantess of nearly four hundred and twenty six centimeters in height. Her hair was stark white, cut short around her chin. Poppa had hired her after the fight last year to train her in different forms of combat. She was excelling in archery; proficient in hand to hand combat ( for a seven year old ). She would be trained in sword fighting next. “We could, yes. Do you think you’re ready for that?”

“I am.” Elio nodded, turning away to hand off her bow to the waiting serving girl. “Poppa, I’m hungry!” Her stomach growled as if to solidify her sentiments. A glance towards the top of the hill confirmed her assumptions: Momma was nowhere to be seen. Her lips twitched in mild irritation as she climbed up the grassy knoll, listening the birds sing their cheery little songs overhead. “Can we eat now?” Mumbled into the wind, she reached out to take Poppa’s hand, giving it a squeeze as they walked along the path towards the house.

The house wasn’t the castle. The castle was back towards the coast, in town. This was a house, something small that they came to when it came time to practice this. Three rooms, a kitchen, and a sitting parlor. “Is Momma alright?” She asked curiously as Penelope stepped up behind them. Penelope leaned down to scoop her up, carrying her upon her shoulders, much to her delight. Elio squealed, holding onto Penelope’s head- careful not to pull her hair, that would hurt, and she doesn’t want to hurt Penelope.

“Momma needed to go lay down. She was feeling faint again.” Poppa answered with a shake of his head. Momma had gotten sick four months ago, and it refused to let go of her. Her lungs wheezed with breaths at times; others, she could barely leave the bed. “But she’ll be joining us for lunch.”

“Good!” Slumping forward, Elio rested her chin upon Penelope’s head, watching as the house came into view. Yet, something had caught her attention: a twig snapping to their left. She sat up slowly, head swiveling to the left to study the woods.

The birds had stopped singing.

“Poppa?” She whispered, drawing her father’s attention. He, along with the two guards that followed his every step ( Viper and Scorpion, who had been by his side for well over two decades. They were uncles to her; brothers to him not in blood, but in spirit. ), stilled. “Someone’s there.”

“Penelope-” Poppa didn’t get to finish his sentence as an arrow flew out; wide, a shitty shot. Penelope leaned down in one fell swoop, dropping her down into Gian’s awaiting arms, who then passed her over to Scorpion. “Run! Quickly, now!”

“Yes, sir!” Scorpion took off in a sprint; Elio clung to him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs around his ways. They had practiced this since she had been old enough to talk. He kept one arm wrapped around her middle, holding her close as the sounds of fighting ensued behind them. “What do you see, little Croc?” Croc- Crocodile, her favorite reptile- that was his nickname for her. What they all called her when they needed to use code names. She was Crocodile, Momma was Swan, and Poppa was King Snake.

“Men!” Elio gasped out, breath getting jostled out of her with each hard footfall from Scorpion. He was a big man- tall and broad and fast. “I think four? Penelope is grabbing Poppa and pushing him back!”

“What do the men look like?” Scorpion urged as he neared the house, gaze raking over the door. It hadn’t been busted down, hadn't been opened. The house was calm. Quiet.

“I think they’re pirates!”

“Pirates?” Scorpion set Elio down, blocking her view with his body as he turned to watch.

Penelope grabbed one of the men- certainly a pirate, given their mangy appearance and cutlasses and barbaric yells- and slammed him over her knee He could hear the way his spine broke from here, could hear the strangled, gurgle of a scream that bubbled free from his lips as she tossed him aside.

An arrow shot free from the trees. Another? Their archer! The arrow flew strong and true, sinking into the tender flesh of Penelope’s thigh. She screamed as she reached down, grabbing it. Viper covered her, striking down another man as Gian Carlo continued to hold off two on his own.

“Inside, quickly now!” Scorpion reached over, grabbing hold of the handle of the door, pushing it open to shove her inside. “Go to you mother!”

“Save Poppa!” Elio cried as Scorpion closed the door on her. She could hear his heavy footsteps as he retreated, leaving her in the quiet. She turned away from the door, looking around before spotting the cracked open door of her mother’s room. “Momma! Momma!” She yelled, running in, the door swinging wide to clang against the wall.

“What on Earth are you doing?!” Momma gasped, reaching out to grab hold of her child. “What is wrong?!”

“Pirates, Momma!”

“Pirates?” Francesca looked up, gaze locked on the door. “Where’s your father?”

“With Viper and Scorpion and Penelope! They’re fighting them!”

“Quickly, come with me!” Francesca pulled Elio close, her arms winding around her child. “We need to hide!” With a flurry of movement, skirts swirling in the afternoon light, she pulled open the wardrobe, parting the clothing, fingers brushing against the back. Oh, where was it?

Elio watched as Francesca reached inside. What was she doing? They didn’t need clothes! She was about to protest before she watched as the back swung open, revealing a hidden room. “Come, inside!” Francesca climbed in first, dragging Elio in behind her. She pushed Elio into the secret room as she closed the wardrobe behind her. Elio stumbled in the dark, falling to her hands and knees with a muffled hiss of pain as her skin scrapes against the rough concrete. She turns, watching as the last sliver of light is shut out as Francesca closes the door, trapping them in this odd, hidden room. Sh can hear her mother more than see her as she moves through the darkness, before the distinct sound of a match striking fills the silence.

Oil lamp.

“What is this place?” Elio asks in childish bewilderment, her gaze drifting across the room. It’s bigger than she thought; was this what was behind the hallway? She looked down; the floor dipped into a gradual slope. A secret tunnel?! “Momma?”

“This is a tunnel that my father built when I was just a girl.” Momma explained as she hung the lamp for a moment. She took the ribbon from her hair and reached down, gathering her skirts up in a manner Elio had never seen before. “He built this tunnel in case something ever happened and we needed to escape.” She pulled them between her legs, creating makeshift trousers, to which she then tied the excess fabric together at her side. Reaching over, she took hold of the lamp once more and reached a hand out, grasping Elio’s much smaller- and now slightly bloodied- hand. “We must hurry, now.”

“But what about Poppa?” Her mind flashed to the fight, to the sound of swords clashing, of muffled yells.

Francesca shook her head. “He knows where we’ll be.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, bambina.” She tugged. And Elio had no choice but to follow.

They walked for what felt like hours, but really couldn’t have been longer than perhaps one hour, given how the sun hadn’t moved much in the sky. The floor had dipped low before rising back up into an incline as they breached the surface. It took all of Francesca’s strength to push the hidden cellar door open, and when she did, she waited a moment, listening intently before climbing out. “Gian?”

“Cesca?” Came Gian Carlo’s voice through the woods. Francesca ran to her husband, throwing her arms around his shoulders as a sob escaped her.

Hands reached down, picking Elio up out of the dark tunnel and into the light once more. Penelope, with a weary, tired smile and dirt smeared across her face. Viper and Scorpion stood off to the side, just as weary from their fight- and then the walk to find this. “There we are, poppet,” Penelope murmured, brushing Elio’s hair back from her face. “I bet you’re tired.”

“Very. Can we go home?” Elio asked as she leaned her head forward, resting it against Penelope’s shoulder. “I wanna go home.”

“Yes, mio angelo, we’re going home.” Poppa sighed as he walked over, reaching up to brush his fingers against her leg. He had blood smeared across his face, Elio noticed. Blood on his hands, too.

It would not be the first time she would see blood on her father’s face. ───

The door opened as Daz slipped in, arms laden down with bags of supplies.

“Good,” Crocodile sighed as he rose from his chair. “Milorad is having dinner sent up here for us.”

“How are you feeling?” Jun’Ich asked Daz, watching the way the man grimaced. “You should rest, now.”

“I will, soon.”

Crocodile idly looked through the bags, studying the medical supplies. Good; they’d certainly needed those. “Any questions before I continue?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder at Jun’Ichi. He’d begun brushing out his hair, which had finally dried. Crocodile’s fingers twitched; the memory of silken strands wrapped around his fist rushing to the surface briefly.

“You were going to be pledged to Monkey D. Dragon?”

Daz snorted, shaking his head as he moved towards the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower. You’re telling him the story?”

“He deserves to know. Milorad can’t keep their mouth shut.” Turning, he faced one of the most loyal members of his crew. “You have known me for over a decade, now. I fear this truth would have gotten out regardless.”

Jun shifted to sit back against the headboard, his arms looping behind his head. “Okay. Go on.”

“Is that an order?” Sir Crocodile mused, head tilting, a dangerous glint within his gaze that had Jun’Ichi snorting.

“No, sir.”

“Very well.” ───

Thirty Six Years Ago Isole del Carrozze, South Blue The House of Conti

She shifted, turning this way then that, admiring her reflection. The waistcoat fit better than her dresses did; with the archery, the sword training, the lessons with her viola, her shoulders were growing broader. She didn’t fit into most of her gowns from her youth due to this growth spurt, something Elio was secretly happy with. Dresses felt strange on her form. Uncomfortable. As if they were meant for someone else, not for her.

No, suits were better.

“What’s on the schedule for today?” Mother asked, her head tilting as she watched Elio model the newly tailored suit. The waistcoat was modeled after the ones she wore when riding her horse; the trousers were modified mens’ trousers, and the blouse was one she already had in her closet.

“I have to attend my afternoon lessons,” Elio answered, turning away from her reflection to study her mother. Francesca had grown pale over the past two years; still struggling with her health in the aftermath of the mysterious sickness that had struck her. She was starting to go prematurely grey at her temples, as well, though in Elio’s opinion, it made her look more dignified.

“Which lessons?” Francesca pressed, her gaze drifting down to the journal she had balanced in her lap. She was writing something down; what it was, Elio wasn’t sure. “Lets see, today is Wednesday, so that means-”

“A History of the World Government, Mathematics, and the Sciences of the New World.” Elio answered, hopping down from the platform to wander over to her mother, flopping against the armchair she reclined in. “I heard something earlier from one of the servants.”

Francesca hummed curiously, a fine, thin eyebrow raising to show her curiosity.

“That there’s a new group of pirates terrorizing the Seas. They’re calling themselves the Roger Pirates, after their Captain.” Elio sighed in an almost dream-like fashion. Ever since having the run in with the rogue pirates two years prior, her head had been filled with fantasies of adventuring across the seas, of finding treasure, of becoming a captain of a fierce crew.

“The Roger Pirates have been around for a few years, now.” Francesca closed her journal, her brows furrowing inward, creasing in the middle in a new wrinkle she hadn’t had the year prior. “They’re led by a man named Gol D. Roger and the Dark King, Silvers Rayleigh.”

“You’ve heard of them?” Elio gasped, eyes widening in surprise as she turned, nearly falling over herself in her haste. “Mother, tell me more!”

“Ask your tutor, he’ll know more than I.” Francesca tutted softly, rising with a swirl of her skirts. “I have to attend tea with some of the ladies of the minor nobility.”

“Gross. All you do is sit and sip tea and gossip,” Elio stuck her tongue out as Francesca smoothed a hand over her head. She was growing taller; she’d be taking after her father’s height.

Francesca laughed softly, shaking her head as her daughter walked ahead of her, arms swinging at her sides. She truly was her father’s daughter, she thought to herself. Bold, brave, levelheaded. She would make a wonderful Lady one day. As they walked through the halls, Francesca’s mind wandered. They had less than a year before the World Government would be at their door, but no more word had been sent, had been heard since that day upon the arrival of those men. Teeth worried the inside of her cheek, biting upon the flesh tenderly. They had threatened then and there to procure a Buster Call, to wipe any and all trace of them, of the island, of their bloodline- all because of a money discrepancy. It wasn’t as if they were going to bleed their citizens dry! That was simply preposterous, though she knew better. That wasn’t the real reason.

No. She herself was the reason. Daughter of a Celestial Dragon, whose bloodline goes back as far as the beginning of the Void Century, and her refusal to admit that she knew where the plans were for that weapon. Fingers clutched the journal tight enough that the leather creaked.

“Have fun at your gossipy tea drinking time!” Elio teased as she flounced into the library, leaving Francesca standing in the hall to watch. It would all be fine. Nothing would happen.

She would make sure of it. Even if it cost her everything.

“I have a question!” Elio exclaimed in lieu of a greeting.

Her tutor- an older gentleman with white hair and crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes- looked up from his lesson plan. A smile curved his lips as he watched her approach with all the confidence of a grown adult. “What would your question be?” Caleb questioned, closing his lesson plan for the moment.

“What do you know of Whitebeard? And the Roger Pirates?” She questioned, settling down in a chair at the table.

Caleb paused, appearing almost flabbergasted at the question before sighing. “Well… I really only know some of the basic information.”

“Well, tell me what you know.”

“Why the interest in those two?”

“Its an interest in pirates in general.”

“Planning on running off to be a pirate?” He teased, watching the way her cheeks heated up. She shrugged, and he decided in that moment that his lesson plans could wait for another day. “Very well. Tell you what- how about we take a field trip?”

“You mean it?” She perked up, already rising to her feet. “Please?”

“Come along. Sometimes, it’s easier to explain with something other than books and maps.” Walking to the large doors that lead out to the garden, Caleb waved down one of the serving boys. “Tell His Majesty that I am taking Her Royal Highness to the beach for a lesson on history and science.”

“I- yes, sir.”

“Wonderful.” He opened the door, ushering her outside into the warm spring air. Caleb offered her his arm, to which she took in order to keep up with him better. He was much taller and had weirdly long legs, in her opinion. “So, our lesson today will be on pirates.”

“How do you become a pirate?” Elio asked, her head tilting, causing her braid to sway with the movement. “I know you aren’t born into piracy like you’re born into royalty, right?”

“Yes- and no. Pirates have children who take up piracy the same way that royals have children who become royals themselves. Or others opt not to, like how your uncle chose to become a Marine rather than pursue the crown.”

Her lips pursed as she thought that over. How strange it must be to be born into piracy. “So, how do you become a pirate?” She pressed once more as the paved walkway turned to cobblestone beneath their feet.

“You choose.”

“You choose?”

“Yes. Most pirates do not simply start up on their own and suddenly decide that they’ll have a crew and a ship. Piracy is as much a business as opting to become a merchant or a Marine.” Caleb gestured towards the town to their left, then the port in front of them. “There is business in piracy. You must decide if you wish to start off on your own- and if you do that, you must purchase a boat. If you don’t know how to navigate, then you’ll need to find a Navigator, at the very least.”

“Like, someone who reads a map?”

“Or someone who can track your course by the stars.”

Her eyes widened as she stopped, staring up at Caleb in obvious surprise. “You can do that?!” She whispered, fingers clutching to his coat. “Caleb, can you teach me how to do that?!”

“I- Miss Conti, I’m no Navigator-”

“But you taught me the constellations! And you know how to read maps! You were once a merchant, you must know some things, no?”

Caleb’s gut twisted; he was certainly a merchant, once. Even though his roots were far deeper than mere mercantilism. “I… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to teach you that, as well.” She would need to know, one day. Even if what the rumors whispered proved to be false, it would never hurt for her to know. “Now, pirates. You wished to know of Roger and Whitebeard, yes?”

Her head bobbed as they continued their walk, cobblestone slowly giving way to sand. “Gol D. Roger has been around for quite some years, now; he isn’t a young upstart, but he is impressive from what I have learned.” And so began the story of Gol D. Roger, the Dark King Rayleigh Silvers, and how the two joined forces to create the slowly growing to be infamous Roger Pirates.

Elio drank in all of the information, her mind running a mile a minute. Such magnificent stories of heroism, of fighting the World Government, of exploration. It sparked a fire that would never go out, not after this. Once they returned from their beach visit, she pulled out maps of the South Blue and begged Caleb to teach her how to read it.

And he did. Where the island she resided on was, how the currents directed the flow of merchant ships from island to island, how in turn she would need to go if she wanted to visit another portion of the South Blue.

Little did Caleb know that this information would save her life within the following year.

Over the course of six months, Elio was taught how to navigate by the position of the stars, how to read and create her own maps, how to read a compass, and what a log pose is. By the time late summer rolled around, Caleb was taking Elio out on the lake with the Conti family’s small ship. It was fit for two people; one to steer, and one to man the masts. Elio had found a new love for the water, one that thrilled Gian Carlo and worried Francesca.

Often, Penelope would sit on the shore and keep watch, for in the shadows, movement was stirring.

“I don’t understand,” Francesca sighed as she powdered her face, preparing for an evening out. “What is this fascination with the water?”

“It’s freeing!” Elio spoke around a mouthful of pins, having taken to doing her own hair. “I’m able to steer the ship where I wish for it to go, and it will go! It’s like a horse, but even more powerful and open. I want to go out to the ports one day, when I’m older, and take a ship out onto the ocean.”

“Why on earth would you want that?” Francesca whined; where had the daughter who loved to paint her nails and have tea parties gone?

Gian chuckled as he entered the powder room, pausing to press a kiss to the top of his wife’s head. “I think it’s a wonderful thing that you’ve taken an interest in. It can never hurt to know how to sail in this day and age.”

“See?” Elio stuck her tongue out before bursting into a fit of laughter as Gian copied her in the mirror.

Shaking her head, Francesca set down her powder puff and reached for her lipstick. “I think it’s a rather dangerous sport, is all.” She sniffed before opening her mouth, carefully gliding the red across her lips.

The shade reminded Elio of blood; bright and bold and eye-catching. She turned around and hopped down from the stool she stood on, hearing her mother gasp in a moment of fear. Her lips curved into a grin as she spun, her dress fanning around around her legs. She’d agreed to wear a dress tonight due to the event: the Opera. A traveling group of entertainers had come to their island, and the royal family of Conti had been invited as guests of honor to witness their performance.

“Is Caleb coming?” Elio questioned as she stepped one foot in front of the other, counting how many steps it would take to get from the door to the window on the other side of the room. Seven, eight, nine…

“Yes, he is, as is Penelope, and Scorpion, and Viper.” Poppa answered as he tied his tie, a fancy black silk with golden thread woven through it, catching the light like the scales of a dark reptile.

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty paces! “I’ve never been to an Opera before.”

“It will be long, and you must remain quiet.” Francesca rose to her feet, brushing her hand over her dressing gown. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother.” Elio rolled her eyes as she walked out of the powder room and into her parents bedroom. It was twice as big as her own, meaning it was quite massive. She could run from one end to the other and be out of breath! “Are you wearing the red gown tonight?”

“I am!”

“Is that why I’m wearing the gold?”

“Exactly, piccolo gnocco!” Mother walked to the closet, disappearing inside. “Go downstairs! We’ll be there shortly!”

“I’m gonna find a peach to eat!” Elio called back as she escaped, running through the hall towards the stairs. A grin curled her lips as she raced down two at a time, feeling as if she Cinderella running from the Prince. Except in her story, the Prince would never find her, and she would escape her evil step mother and evil step sisters to become a pirate and sail the oceans!

Penelope was in the kitchen when she came skidding in, very nearly running into the wall. “Careful!” Penelope chided, shaking her head. “Are you here to snack?”

“Do we have any peaches?”

“You’re in luck, I just finished peeling one.” Penelope grinned as she offered the bowl of peeled peach for Elio, who accepted with a squeal of delight. “You look pretty tonight.”

“Than’ oo.” Elio replied around a mouthful of peaches. She took a moment to swallow before continuing. “You aren’t wearing a dress?”

“Easier to hide my blades on me like this.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s smart!” She hadn’t considered that. Penelope wore a full suit, and even with the suit, she couldn’t see where she would have hidden any of her blades. “You’re so smart, Penny.”

“I’m aware.”

“There we are!” Gian Carlo smiled as he walked in, Francesca following behind. Both were fully dressed, Elio noted. They looked good; father in a suit of black and gold, mother in a gown of red with a necklace of gold and ruby, and herself in her golden dress with gold sparkles in her hair. She was their gold, their treasure, and she certainly looked the part. “Shall we?”

“To the Opera!” ───

“It was the first time I had been in a theater,” Crocodile murmured, watching as Jun’Ichi cut a peach carefully. It was well ripened, the juices spilling over his fingers.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked as he cut a piece, holding it out for his boss.

Lips curved into a smile as he reached over, taking hold of the slice before bringing it to his mouth. “I did. The theater house was the pride of the city. It was three stories high, built of marble and gold, intricate details of filigree everywhere you looked. We had world class acts come to perform yearly. This Opera would be the final one to grace the theater house, however.”

“Oh,” Jun frowned at that, gaze lowering to the peach, cutting a piece for Daz, who had stretched out across the large bed. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Quite.”

“Do you recall what the opera was?” Daz asked, taking the piece of peach.

He had to think for a moment, mind reaching back, back, back into the recesses of his memory. “I can’t recall the name, but it was a tragedy from the North Blue. I remember my mother crying over it; a tale of two lovers torn apart by a warring family.”

“How tragic.”

“It was.” A yawn pulled free from him; he was tired, but still far too awake to even consider sleeping, just yet. The first night away from that living hell known as Impel Down. His fingers drummed on the arm of the chair he’d sunken into as memories of lavish gowns and sparkling champagne danced within his memory. “That’s the final good memory I have of that island.”

“Well, it has been nearly thirty five years since then.”

“It certainly has.” ───

Thirty Five Years Ago Isole del Carrozze, South Blue The House of Conti

Snow had blanketed the island; winter had come, and with a vengeance rarely seen. The castle was cold, even with the fires roaring within. Elio, age ten, curled up into a ball in a large arm chair, a book balanced upon their lap. At their feet, their cousin Olivia lay, asleep. She was their uncle’s daughter, a child of a Marine. She was four years older than them, but somehow shorter, with round cheeks and big green eyes. She took after her mother, not her father.

The Yule feast had ended an hour ago, but no one had gone to their rooms yet. The longest night of the year was meant to be spent together with the ones you loved, celebrating and chasing the shadows away. The people within the city had built bonfires to celebrate; normally, they would all be down there celebrating with them, but it was simply too cold this year. Ice had formed a layer over the snow that had fallen, making leaving dangerous.

The book had been a gift from Caleb; a book of maps. Maps of the South and West Blues, with detailed ley lines and island postings, as well as which direction the log pose would rest should you come to one. It was everything that they could have ever wanted. Father had gifted them new boots, leather and insulated. Good for riding horseback. Mother had gifted them a new quiver for their arrows, as well as a new pair of golden earrings.

Olivia stirred, sitting up and blinking in the light of the fire. “Ell,” she murmured, brows furrowing. “What time is it?”

“Just past nine, You’ve only been asleep for thirty minutes.” They answered, not looking up from their book. “Everyone else is still in the formal dining room.”

“Oh.” She shifted, tugging the fur blanket closer to herself as she rose to her feet. She walked to the window, staring out at the dark night. “It’s a new moon tonight. Look, you can’t even see the stars.”

“You can see the stars; we can’t see them from here because of the city’s lights.”

“Oh.” A pause as she worried her cheek. “I’m gonna go get some food. I’m hungry, still. Do you want anything?”

“No, thank you.” El shook their head, glancing up from the book at long last to watch as Olivia slipped out of the library and into the hall. The sound of laughter echoed distantly, the adults still awake and joking. They huffed softly and readjusted, gaze returning to the book of maps, trying to memorize as much as they could. Caleb would quiz them on this, no doubt. No rest for the weary- whatever that meant. They’d heard their mother say it more than once.

It felt applicable.

The fire crackled in the fireplace; the warmth was comforting, lulling. Their eyes felt heavy. Perhaps a small nap would be nice? Their head bobbed once, twice, three times before sleep pulled them under. It wasn’t the first time they had fallen asleep here, nor would it be the last, they reasoned. After all, it was warm, it was quiet, and their tummy was full of meat and bread. All was good, all was quiet.

They aren’t sure what woke them.

The fire had nearly burnt itself out, embers glowing dimly in the dark of the library. They shifted, their book nearly slipping off their lap before they caught it. No sound of laughter could be heard from the kitchen. How late was it? A glance towards the grandfather clock at the far end revealed it was well past midnight, nearly one in the morning. Quietly, they rose to their feet, shuffling forward while rubbing at their eyes. Had mother and father already retired for the evening? Where was everyone? Why did no one wake them?

The sound of snow crunching outside had their steps pausing. They aren’t sure why, not really, but for some reason, their hair stood on end. Something whispered for them to step back into the shadows, out of the light, and they do, quickly and quietly hiding in the corner of the room, out of sight of the large windows.

Men. Men in black suits. Were they more visitors? It was late, certainly they weren’t here on business! They went to step forward before something caught their attention-

Blood.

Blood on the white undershirts they wore. Blood? Oh, Gods, had something happened? They watched the men walk across the back porch, their footsteps crunching in the ice covered snow. Only when they were out of sight did they move, breath coming in soft, short pants, feet nearly silent upon the floor as they slipped out of the library and into the hall.

The power was out. It was cold. It was silent. It was dark, so very dark. They pressed their back to the wall as they slid forward slowly, quietly, a hand over their mouth and nose to muffle the sound of their breath. Something was wrong, something was terribly, horribly wrong. They reached the end of the hall where the large mahogany doors that led to the dining hall stood partially open. They slowly scooted forward, careful not to touch the doors for they would creak if any pressure was placed upon them. It was hard to see with the lack of light; they went to step forward, only for their toes to touch something… Wet.

Wet. And red.

Wine? Had wine been spilled? They followed the barely visible puddle forward. A hand.

Blood.

Blood was on the floor. They had stepped in blood. A soft gasp escaped, and they jerked back, nearly falling in their haste as they spun around. Someone was hurt, someone had been hurt! Where was mother? Father? Where were they? They ran through the halls, bare feet slapping against the floor, the sound ricocheting off the walls as they turned, only to run face first into the chest of-

Scorpion. Scorpion, who grabbed them tight and pulled them close and placed a hand over their mouth to muffle their scream. Scorpion, who pushed them into his own room and quietly closed the door. “Elio,” he breathed, kneeling down in front of them. He reached up, cupping their cheek, brushing their hair back from their face. “Elio, listen to me. Do you remember that hidden passage in the kitchen?”

“Yes, but- what’s going on? Someone’s hurt in the dining-”

“Your parents have been killed.”

“What?” Tears pricked at their eyes as they shook their head once, twice. “No- no, you’re lying, and this is an awful joke to play on Yule!”

He hissed, his hand coming back over their mouth. “Keep your voice down!” He glances towards the window, watches as shadows lurk past. “Listen to me, Elio. Viper is waiting in the stable. You need to run. We were looking for you, they are looking for you, do you understand?”

“No!” El whispers back, tears rolling over their cheeks. “No, I don’t!”

Scorpion sighs as he pulls them into a tight embrace, hand smoothing over their back. “Someday, you will. Someday, you will understand the World Government is never to be trusted. There is a bag that Viper has packed. It is in the kitchen, by the potatoes. Grab it. And take that hidden passage out to the stable. I need you to do that, okay?”

“But-”

“I will follow. There’s- there’s no one left. Everyone who was here has- they… They aren’t here anymore, El.”

Their mind raced as they scrabbled to understand what was happening. The World Government came and killed their parents? Why? What had they done? They were good people, they were kind and loving and good! “I don’t understand!” They whimpered, bottom lip trembling as they tried to hold back their tears.

“You will, one day. But I need you to go. I’ll distract them, but you need to go, now. Here, put on your boots,” he took hold of the leather booths he’d grabbed for them, having carried them with him for when he found them. Once on, he reached up to cup their cheeks, wiping away their tears. “You need to run now.”

“Okay.”

“On three. One…” He opened the door, ushered them into the hall. “Two,” he gave them one last hug, one last kiss on the head, “do not look at the bodies. Just run.” They nodded and began backing away before turning and sprinting. “Three!” He whispered, turning to run the other direction, making as much noise as possible to draw attention to himself.

His lips pressed tightly together as he ran. Survive, little crocodile. Survive for me. For your parents. For this entire island. Survive for your people, for we will not survive this night. This is the culling, our final rights have been read, and we will no longer live to see the light of day.

And run, they did. Throwing open the mahogany doors, nearly slipping in the pool of blood that came from a body that was missing a head. As they looked down at the ground rather than at the table, where the bodies of their uncle, their aunt, Penelope all sat, lifeless and bludgeoned. They pushed into the kitchen, the door swinging behind them. Potatoes, potatoes… Potatoes! Grabbing hold of the sack beside it, they turned, shimmying between the freezer and the wall, a space just big enough for a small man to get through but perfect for a child. The old servant’s passage that led from the stables to the kitchen below the ground.

Their steps echoed as they ran, breath puffing out in harsh pants. Everyone was dead. The World Government had killed them. They didn’t know why, but the World Government was now the enemy. They burst out of the hidden passage and nearly fell over Viper, who let out a surprised yell. “Viper!”

“There we are!” Viper pulled them in close, smoothing hands over their hair. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, but-”

“I know. I know, we need to go. I need to get you to the coast.”

“Why? Am I leaving?”

“Yes, you are. There’s a ship waiting for you.” Viper picked them up and placed them on the back of their horse- no, not their horse, their father’s stallion. A big, black stallion whose name was Hades, after the God of the Underworld. “You’re going to go, and you’re going to board, and you are going to never come back.”

“Never come back?!”

“Listen to me, Elio. You’re a smart kid. You’ll do fine out there. You’ll survive. But you can never return here. They’ve called a Buster Call on this island, and it won’t exist by the time the sun rises.”

A Buster Call?! Caleb had just taught them about that last week! “But- but what about you? And Scorpion? And all of the citizens- we have to warn them!”

“There’s no time!” Viper yelled, smacking the back of Hades’ rump, spurring him into a gallop. “Live! Live for all of us! Survive, Elio!” Viper cried out as Hades escaped the coral by leaping over the fence. Tears spilled over Viper’s cheeks as he watched them disappear into the forest. His ribs ached from where he’d been stabbed; his leg was on fire from the gunshot. He coughed once, twice, as blood filled his mouth.

It has been an honor serving the Great House of Conti. May its future flourish with you, Elio. May you survive and do great things. It’s what your father would have wanted.

“Slow down!” El yelled at Hades, who did not listen. The horse plowed through the woods until they came onto the trail that led to the public docs, not the private ones. He whinnied, tossing his head as he ran. “You stupid horse, we need to go back!” They cried, tears spilling over their cheeks. But the horse never stopped, not until they were trotting down the wooden docks, as if it knew.

And Elio believes that he did know. He knew where to take them, for there was a small vessel waiting. “There you are,” an old woman sighed as she stepped onto the deck, arms crossed over her chest. “Yer father’s told me everything. Let’s go, before it’s too late.”

“Who are you?”

“My name doesn’t matter. Come on, your highness.” She took their bag as they clambered down from Hades, who snorted and butted his head against their cheek.

“I love you.” El whispered through their tears, reaching up to cup his snout, brushing their fingers against his soft coat. “I love you all. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I have to leave you. I’m so sorry.”

“Highness,” the woman urged softly; her own heart ached for this child, for this island. “We have to leave.”

“I know.” They pressed a kiss to Hades’ nose before pulling back. “You were a good horse.” With that, they turned and stepped down into the boat. It wasn’t anything impressive, not by a long shot. Their chest heaved with sobs as they collapsed onto the deck, as the boat began to leave port quietly. As the old woman draped a blanket over their shoulders.

As the first sounds of canonfire began, echoing through the night, through the snowfall. The woman sat with them, cradling them gently in her arms as the screams of fear, of desperation, began to join the chorus of a slaughter that would never be known to the history books. ───

Tears spilled over scarred cheeks as silence settled over the room. Jun’Ichi sat across from him, eyes wide, a hand over his mouth as realization settled in. “Everything in the history books about the Isole del Carrozze is a lie,” Crocodile sighed, reaching up to wipe idly at his damp cheeks. “There was no civil war. There was no pirate attack. There was no slaughter of Marines. They killed my parents, they killed the servants, they killed the civilians. I don’t know if anyone had been able to escape; I’ve never met anyone from there in the years since.”

“I’m… So sorry,” Jun’Ichi whispered, looking over as Daz held out tissues for both men. “I had no idea.”

“Not many do know.”

“Who was the woman?”

“An old crone whose name I never learned. She was old, she was kind, and she got me to another island, where I would spend the next six years working. I worked in a shop as an accountant; I was good with math, I was literate, and I had a good memory. I saved over five thousand berries by the time I left there.” His lips twitched into a humorless smile. “That’s when Dragon found me.”

“Dragon?! Garp’s son, Monkey D. Dragon?”

“The one and only.”

#one piece #sir crocodile #daz bones #sir crocodile fanfiction #trans crocodile #the fall of the house of c #oc tag: fujihara jun'ichi #this is my pride & joy currently im ngl #im so proud of this piece #please read it oh my god

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