#Warlord Workplace

[cheekynoz]

WARLORD WORKPLACE

Part 1

Marine #455: "If you're not even going to accept our offer, why have you come?!"

Mihawk: Legs crossed, covered in blood, leaning back in a Marine Captain's chair. "I was bored, and I wanted to ask you why you think I'm so cheap to buy"

Marine #455: "That salary is a bonus for you. You should be thankful!"

Mihawk: "Make no mistake pest, your salary is not a bonus, it is a gift to ensure I don't slaughter every last one of you. But it's pointless because I'll never join y-

Crocodile: Pushing the door open, stepping over Marine bodies like they're mud on the floor. "Mm. Am I in the right place?"

Mihawk: Eyes immediately going wide. "Who is that?"

Marine #455: "Sir Crocodile, he just took the Warlord deal. He's the f-"

Mihawk: Immediately. "I accept. I'm in."

Pt 1 -> Pt 2

(Masterlist)

[sualne]

What are you’re thoughts on dofladile?

i love it!! i especially love when it's mingo being all pathetic failing to seduce/get croc's attention and croc in all his smug glory turning him down repeatably, it's hilarious! them as an actual couple, worst, actually loving each other is no fun! i like them insane and one sided, much much more entertaining.

[thetravelingegg]

This isn’t even all the weird things that happened in those 82 issues

[ialpiriel]

Six years ago, after killing her father, she was stripped of her name, then sold into gladiatorial slavery in the Dead Nation, an imperialistic slaver nation consuming huge portions of the Midwest. Now, three days after a coup that started with the Iconoclast's cannibalistic destruction of the previous Warlord, the Iconoclast asks her--wouldn't you like like to make everyone have to respect you? Wouldn't it be nice to have power and make them all listen? She agrees, and ascends into power as the Nameless Warlord. And then the assassination attempts start.

Paperback | Kindle | Gumroad (PDF) | itch.io (PDF) | itch.io (audio)

My novel Up With the Star comes out today, Friday, September 8! It features a whole cast of queer characters and is set in an America that has fallen apart and reformed itself into scores of smaller states, some at war with each other, some at peace, some federated, some not. The main character is one of the Nameless, a manufactured underclass produced by one of the largest political bodies on the North American continent. She hails from a small state that was formed by christofascist secessionists around a century before the story starts, and was cast out after her values failed to align with those of her birthplace, in a rather spectacular manner.

After the Iconoclast's violent assassination of the previous leader of a different political body, she's nominated to take his place by the Iconoclast, as well as her friends Conway--an ex-POW who now works in commerce--and Marta--a highly-regarded trauma surgeon at the gladiatorial pits, the home of post-dissolution America's favorite sport, the site of quite a lot of augury and oracular functions, and the main characters "workplace." She takes the job on the offering of being able to spite the people who made her Nameless. Wouldn't it nice to be powerful and respected? Wouldn't it be nice to be in charge, just once?

Great for people who like adult transmasc characters, characters who are struggling with christianity, doctors, scenes about food, estranged families, fictional grandmas, and people motivated by spite, and can tolerate suicidal ideation, blood, violence, christianity, and sex scenes.

[jintaka-hane]

Sir Crocodile dealing with the Marine Time Clock Machine

Masterlist

Summary: Back at the time when he was still a warlord. Sir Crocodile doesn't like being controlled. And he won't be. Word count: 700

A distinctive and dense smell of cigar smoke wafted into the reception area of the Marine Headquarters, the pervasive aroma signaling the unmistakable presence of Sir Crocodile as he made his way towards the offices.

The cadet grew nervous, promptly rising from his workstation chair and straightening his slightly crumpled uniform after hours of work. Taking deep breaths to maintain composure in the presence of such an imposing visitor, he proceeded to the entrance to greet him.

The door swung open, and the haughty warlord strode in with his expressionless demeanor, his outrageously expensive attire, and his meticulously slicked-back hair. As always, he clutched a cigar between his teeth, with a cloud of smoke trailing him wherever he went.

The warlord didn't spare a glance at the cadet upon entering, ignoring his presence and striding past to seek out the vice admiral with whom he was scheduled to meet.

"Sir Croc..." the cadet nervously cleared his throat, swallowing hard. "Sir Crocodile, Sir... welcome to The Marine Headquarters, the main division of the Marine organization that has jurisdiction over the Grand Line."

Sir Crocodile came to a silent halt and turned to look at him, surprised to find a presence, albeit insignificant, beside him. Lowering his chin, he regarded the cadet disinterestedly, who began to sweat and swallowed again, the nervousness causing saliva to accumulate in his mouth.

"Sir Crocodile," the cadet continued, "I must inform you that there has been a change in Marine policy. All... Marine personnel, including warlords even if they are not regular office workers, are required to use the entry machine to confirm their attendance to their workplace."

The Warlord looked at him in silence, his pupils narrowed in a contemptuous glare. The cadet pressed on.

"The aim is... to ensure that all employees adhere to their work schedule properly, that no one... arrives late or leaves before the designated time. To do this, we all have a personal access card," he pulled a white card from his pocket and extended it to Sir Crocodile with a trembling hand, "which must be swiped at the entry machine every time you enter the building. If you leave for any reason, such as for lunch, you'll need to swipe it again."

The warlord took the card, holding it between his index and middle finger, and raised it to examine it closely. It was a small card with his name written on it and a magnetic strip on one side. His mouth twisted into a wry smile with an air of amused interest.

"The machine has a slot where you need to insert the card. You must always insert it with the magnetic strip facing up for it to work correctly. If it doesn't work on the first try, you should take it out and blow a bit of... sand, which might have dirtied the strip before inserting it again. It's a personal and non-transferable card, so we kindly ask that you please do not lose it. In the event of loss, a replacement could be issued, but the expenses would be incurred by the cardholder to avoid burdening the Marine."

"I see," the Warlord said dryly, still holding the card in front of his eyes.

"Please, sir, I ask that you go to the entrance and use it for the first time to register your attendance at the offices today. Would you like me to accompany you in case you have any doubts?"

Sir Crocodile shifted his gaze from the card to the cadet's eyes, and shook his head. "That won't be necessary, thank you," he replied as he disappeared towards the entrance of the building, leaving the door open behind him.

When he lost sight of him, the cadet breathed a sigh of relief, thinking it hadn't gone so badly. He returned to his chair, sat down, and before he could start working again, a huge explosion that shook the walls and office furniture shocked him violently.

The air filled with thick black smoke, carrying the scent of burning, as several nuts, bolts, and bits of microchips came rolling through the door, crashing against the walls. Following the electronic bits came the warlord, who, with a sarcastic smile, walked past, disdainfully tossing the white card to the floor.

"The machine is broken."

[antebunny]

May project(s)

So I plan to do a lot of writing this May and while I have some already planned, I have two ideas running around my head:

A retelling of Superman from the perspective of Lois Lane. One thing I've never understood is why it's so generally accepted that Lois is attracted to Superman but not Clark Kent. Like POV I am Lois Lane: star reporter, attracted to men but facing constant workplace sexism. Do I have a crush on 1) the guy who flies around calling himself Superman and is more powerful than a god or 2) the kinda awkward new guy at work who's kind, respects women (and thinks I'm the best thing since sliced bread) and yeah maybe he's kinda a coward and disappears at weird times, but he's also quietly funny and did I mention respects women? [end POV lol] Makes no sense to me. So I have a rom-com idea based on the premise that Lois likes Clark (yay!) but starts to suspect that Superman (ew) likes her.

Witchers v administration. Okay this one is pretty niche. It's based on The Accidental Warlord and His Pack by inexplicifics aka the series that started the Warlord Geralt subgenre. Basically as I said in the title: the witchers face the new, horrific, undefeatable challenge of administrative warfare. This is quite serious. There's only so many income logs you can trawl through before you start to yearn for the mines. I love outsider POVs of found families and the warlord!Geralt subgenre is a family so found they're basically a cult. So: soap-making, breweries, administration, more found family, and witchers getting to enjoy nice things.

[writingrosesonneptune]

Pelican Queen/Rain Summoner Excerpt

Series Introduction

Here's the first half of Han's introductory chapter!

Art by @drawingrosesonneptune

Scene Summary: Han is a child laborer who doubles as a workplace spy for his employers. Here, he is receiving his next assignment. Approx. 1400 Words.

Content Warning for brief mention of death and corporal punishment, and some references to war and xenophobia.

Han let his gaze wander all around the somber halls of Dol's castle. He had worked in the barley field for a month, but no one had summoned him inside until today.

The great hall was narrower than he expected. He took in every sharp, unfriendly stone and the patchy spider webs overlooked by housekeeping. Long wooden tables lined the cramped walkway, decorated by a crowd of urns. Han’s imagination filled them with the ashes of Dol’s family.

The distinct sound of a bird flapping its wings echoed overhead. Han stepped under the thorny arm of a potted vine to avoid the bird as it passed, moving carefully away from the thorns as soon as the coast was clear. Standing so close to them made him uneasy.

The vines climbed from elegant brass pots in rows all along the hall. They looked like giant versions of the weeds Han spent his days pulling out of the barley field.

They weren’t the usual quiet, well-mannered sort of vines Han stepped over in the woods when he and his neighbors went foraging for blueberries. Ages ago, when Han’s parents were young and unwed, Dol received a gift of great power from a spirit. With it, he had once covered his castle in a blanket of thorns and defended the granary in a siege Han’s neighbors still whispered about.

Not much was known about spirits, but they were rumored to be a picky, malicious lot. Han’s father was petrified of them and said they were ghosts who had stayed too long in the world of the living.

The door was ajar when Han tiptoed past Dol’s counting room. He stopped and leaned close to the gap to peek inside. It was a dark room with few furnishings and only one small window. The faint, bitter odor of freshly turned earth and compost clung to the walls.

A fine-robed figure hunched over a desk in the shadows, groaning and mumbling as if doomed to eternal toil. Dol was wrinkled and pale, and his beard hung in a mossy braid over his chest. His wrinkled hands worked with small, shining piles in front of him. The soft clink of money told Han the old warlord was counting his coins.

Han liked to investigate. Damion, Lord Dol’s scribe, paid him two extra salt coins a week to do so. At not-quite-nine, he was already earning more than either of his parents.

Oddly, he had yet to accrue a reputation as Dol's stooge. Mostly, he just asked the other workers what they were about and reported their uninteresting responses to Damion. It wasn’t much of an investigation.

What Han preferred was sleuthing through Dol’s grounds. It was a green, sprawling place with gloomy corners and outside cellar doors that seemed to lead to nowhere. He often spent as much time as he could getting ‘lost’ between completing assignments and reporting back to Damion.

Once, he found a hall underground that seemed to stretch on forever, but the daylight only reached so far, and he knew better than to ask for a light of his own to explore it. The trickling sound of dirt shifting further in returned to him now and then when he was trying to fall asleep some nights. He wondered what use Dol made of a cellar like that.

Dol cleared his throat, wrenching Han out of his daydreams. His voice was hoarse and irritable. “Is that you wasting time out there, Damion?”

Han backed away from the door and hurried across the cramped walkway. He hid beside another of the potted vines in case Dol came out to punish him.

A door creaked open at the end of the hall. Damion’s flushed, square head emerged to glare at Han. “Come away from there, you fool.”

Han left the twisting shadow of the vine and followed Damion to a crooked room full of covered up furniture. He grabbed Han’s freckled hand and swatted it with the leather-bound account book he always carried at his side. “If I catch you wandering about like that again, I’ll send you back to work in the barley. Lord Dol doesn’t need any more cause to complain.”

Han hid his hands behind his back and stood straighter. “Yes, sir.”

Damion was none too tall, but he stood like a pillar in front of Han. His white-knuckled fingers held tight to the account book. He only seemed to write in it when he was frustrated, and Han was convinced he had filled it with insults directed at Dol and his many workers.

Damion snapped his fingers when he noticed Han’s attention had strayed. “I understand you know the errand girl who goes to market for Lord Dol.” His gaze was accusatory. “Is that so?”

Han chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I'm not in trouble for something she did, am I?”

Irritation conjured wrinkles between Damion's eyebrows. “Answer the question.”

Han took a small step back in case Damion decided to smack him with the book again. “She’s a neighbor in my father’s hamlet down the way.”

“Good,” Damion said. He didn’t sound any more pleased than he had before. “She won’t find it odd if you approach her. She’s been late returning these last few weeks. Lord Dol is prepared to pay you three salt coins to go and find out why.”

“Three?” Han was paid half a salt coin each day to rip weeds out of the field. The two extra a week bought him and his father each a fine dinner of sparrow and onions poached from Dol’s forest. Three salt coins for one day's work? He could hardly believe his fortune.

Damion didn’t seem to think much of the offer. “If it takes you the better part of the day to find her, you may forego your duties in the field," he said, a prospect that thrilled Han to no end. "Look at me. Under no circumstances are you to let her know we sent you.”

“What if she’s only meeting a sweetheart? Will I still get three coins?”

“If that's all, she’ll have her wages docked. She can be in love on her own time.”

Han’s interest rose. “Do you figure it’s something else?”

Damion’s forehead creased in unease. He was starting to look older than his forty years, a number he'd complained endlessly about the month before. “There are tales coming in from the countryside. Invaders from Isulfr. They send interlopers ahead and compromise towns before they strike. People one has known all one’s life begin acting strangely. The next thing one knows, one and one’s neighbors go missing in the night.” Damion dabbed under his chin with a square of lace. “I won’t have that happening here.”

Han cleared his throat. “Where did Lord Dol send her today?”

“To the capital. But she’s gone and disappeared in the hamlet’s direction again.” Damion tucked an ash-blond curl under his velvet cap. “I had one of the sentries watch her from the tower.”

A chill ran up Han’s spine. “The sentries? Do they mean to shoot her?”

Damion narrowed his eyes. “If she’s been dealing with invaders, we’ll want her alive for questioning. They can sentence her in the capitol.”

A cold, fuzzy feeling overtook Han's arms and legs. He opened his mouth to ask if they would really send Dagny to the capital's mercy just for talking to someone, but Damion knocked him on the head with the leather book.

“Don’t concern yourself with the details. Get a move on if you wish to see any wages today.”

Dizzy, Han scrambled out of the room with conflicting visions of crossbow bolts firing out of the tower and a string full of salt coins swirling in his head. He didn’t know what to make of Damion’s talk of invaders.

Han had grown up getting gossip from Dol’s errand girl. She was the closest thing he had to a friend his age, and she was ten years his senior. He couldn’t imagine her sneaking off to chat with invaders all day.

He was so enveloped by worry, he walked into one of Dol’s vines. A white-hot sting in his arm nettled him into the present. He looked down. One of the thorns had pierced his sleeve.

He stepped back and tried to dislodge the thorn from his jacket, but it curled deeper into the weave. An ominous whispering eked from the soil in the pot.

Han grabbed onto the thorn and broke it from the plant. The whispering stopped, and he tore the thorn out of his sleeve. He cast it on the floor and bolted for the big open doors to the outside.

-

Heavy clouds rolled low in the sky as Han pushed aside the broken gate to his father’s hamlet. He covered his nose with his arm when the smell hit him. The reek of sewage from the river and fish drying on racks covered the scratchy dirt lanes in a fog.

He peeked through the doorways of a few houses, but there was no sign of Dol’s errand girl. He tried the riverside. His father was always out fishing at that time of day, and sure enough, the communal raft was missing.

The old widow who lived next to Han’s house bent over the parsnips in her garden. She waved to Han with a warm, gap-toothed smile. She waved to everyone when they went by.

If anyone knew where the errand girl had gone, the widow would.

The chickens in the widow’s coop clucked and flapped their wings as Han climbed over her short garden fence. It wasn’t as wobbly as it used to be. “Have you seen Dagny?” he asked, growing more afraid all the time.

“Dagny? She’s been sneaking off to the orchard over the hill with a big grin on her face.” The widow pursed her lips. “I figured she’s making extra wages helping the farmer over there. I told her not to keep going there while she’s working for Dol. Saints help her if she’s angered him.”

Han hurried up the hill and paused at the well to wrestle out a bucket of water. He gulped down a handful and poured the rest over his head. He knew it was wasteful, but he was sweaty and miserable, and the smell of the hamlet hung around him like a cloak.

A cheerful voice rose from the other side of the hill. “Slacking off, are we?”

Han snapped to attention. “You’re in trouble with Damion,” he warned.

“I expected so.” Dagny beamed as she hopped onto the rim of the well and took a seat. “But it’s no matter, now. I won’t be working for those old crabs much longer.”

Pelican Queen taglist: @cowboybrunch @saturnine-saturneight @tabswrites

As always, let me know if you'd like to be added or leave the taglist!

Sadira's First Chapter | A much later scene in Dol's castle (contains spoilers)

[loyaltykask]

Chapter 5

Love the smack talk.

Wukong: So rude Gods: You broke all the laws! Wukong: But I wasn't rude about it

True peak: Cry about it

Warlord Wukong really said: I have favoritism only for my own family

RUTHLESS. Love it.

Love Wukong but it must have been a bitch to be one of those 72 Demon Kings that follow under him out of fear.

Talk about a toxic workplace environment. @journeythroughjourneytothewest

[thefirstknife]

Veil Log :)

Chioma: Chioma Esi, log... whatever. The Warmind has reactivated. Our base on Hyperion detected network activity. He found us. Classified our location "Nefele Stronghold." We already estimate that Rasputin has attempted remote interference with our network. Our research. It can't. I won't let what we've learned here ruin more lives. I'm going to send Stargazer off-world to... to deal with the problem. They can take Lakshmi with them and... do whatever. As long as it's out of the city. Out of my sight. It's a risk, taking an action off-world. Exposing ourselves. But we have to. What we've done here has to be quarantined. The Veil is too much power. Too much for anyone. Nimbus: Stargazer! That puts the time of this recording around the foundation of the Cloud Striders. Chioma must have been... REALLY old. Osiris: And Stargazer is the one responsible for redacting Nefele Stronghold from Rasputin's records... or Maya by proxy with Lakshmi. Fascinating. There's two more logs left; once we've decrypted them, I will need to take time to contemplate the larger picture they present. Nimbus: [exhales] You and me both.

Interesting! Confirmation that Lakshmi came to Earth with Stargazer. Many people assumed as much, me included, so it's nice to see it confirmed here. This also puts a massive spin on the real reason for deleting Neomuna from the records to keep it hidden.

Originally, the reasons listed and explained were mainly about the danger that Warlords potentially presented to Neomuna. Neomuna was in its infancy, things were rough and not fully stabilised, they didn't want to expose their population to violent immortal beings. This whole thing also included the idea that Neomuni couldn't even find Earth at first, something that may or may not be true at this point. I believe they probably had some difficulties because it's been confirmed that the Veil magnetic interference and the involvement of the Vex was the true reason for Neomuna being hidden. Neptune's natural magnetic field probably didn't help but clearly wasn't the sole reason.

And this whole issue definitely worked as a reason to keep Neomuna hidden. It worked as an official explanation for sure, as well as an explanation that would be given to the public and taught to children early on. But there was another reason. Chioma didn't want anyone to ever come over to Neomuna and risk more exposure to the Veil. She would fully commit to hiding Neomuna rather than letting anyone on Earth finding out about it and the Veil and continuing to mess with it. Very chilling. I can completely understand her reasoning, especially back then. There's no telling what would've happened if some early Risen found out about the Veil, or if it got exposed to some of the numerous hostile Eliksni houses. This puts a really intriguing spin on Neomuna's secrecy. It was largely a decision by Chioma to protect everyone from the Veil's power.

Also, another reference to Chioma's old workplace: Hyperion, a moon of Saturn. Chioma worked there (unknown on what exactly) and this was also the place she got picked up from when Exodus Indigo was heading to Neptune. This implies that she kept in contact with her base on Hyperion well into Neomuna's existence. A risky move if she wanted to keep hidden, but the only way to monitor what's happening outside of Neomuna.

This base discovered Rasputin's reawakening who immediately also detected Neomuna at the time. Is it possible that he could still somehow detect Soteria and access her information about where she crashed? Rasputin not only detected Neomuna as a city, but also the Veil and he was the first one who told us about it back in Seraph. I think it would make sense that his connection to Soteria helped with that and that he could access the whatever remnant of her was left on Neomuna. From what we know, Soteria integrated into the Vex network and turned into the Occlusion, a "loadbearing" algorithm for the CloudArk. The Winterbite exotic post-campaign quest once again turns super important. I highly recommend playing through it , or checking out my write-up about it if you need reminders.

As Nimbus noted, this also gives us some minor information about the timeline. Nimbus says that Stargazer was near the foundation of the Cloud Striders which is interesting. That would make Stargazer one of the first Cloud Striders. We know the first was called Strider and for the rest of them that were mentioned in Winterbite quest, we don't have an exact timeline. I believe the timeline should now be Strider -> Stargazer -> Siegebreaker -> Bluejay -> Malestrom. With Stargazer probably being somewhere around the beginning, possibly even directly following Strider. Nimbus also comments that it would make Chioma "really old." This gives us some indication about the amount of time that passed before first Cloud Striders came to be. We obviously don't know how old exactly, but "really old" would probably be several centuries at that point.

Interesting that Osiris suggests that maybe it was Maya interfering with records, through Lakshmi. From what we know, this didn't happen, but also we're definitely not aware of everything that Lakshmi was capable of doing over the course of history and how aware she was about being a "copy" of Maya. Now that Lakshmi is out of Neomuna and we're at Stargazer's time which definitively closed Neomuna off from the rest of the system, I wonder what's left for the last two logs of the season. I'm hoping for CloudArk! This timeline telling us that Stargazer was earlier means that Bluejay hasn't yet turned the CloudArk into what it is today so we might get information about how that was established.

[flipping-the-coin]

Orion, what are the archives like? Are there any restrictions in your workplace because of your past?

From the desk of 

Head Archivist: Orion Pax

Hall of Records

East Trion Square

Iacon

What are the Archives like? Well… in my own personal opinion, they are one of the most relaxing and welcoming places in the whole city. Unlike other government facilities, the Archives are open to all citizens of Cybertron, without needing a reservation. We are located at East Trion Square, directly across from the medical center. Please feel free to visit us if you are able! We strive to have a friendly and welcoming atmosphere for all who visit and choose to work for us. 

Inside the main entrance is a large, open space with many areas with comfortable furnishings meant for all frame sizes; meant to encourage citizens to quietly socialize, study or research. Private rooms are also available for those needing more discretion or quiet, for a small fee. For guaranteed availability, please reserve these rooms in advance. We also offer workshops and educational opportunities for citizens to learn new skills with qualified instructors.

It is highly recommended to ask for the assistance of one of the Archivists to find data related to the topics you are interested in delving into, as our halls are quite extensive. It is extremely easy to become lost if you are unfamiliar with the layout of the building, but you are also free to roam and browse at your leisure. Do not hesitate to ping your location if you become lost. An archivist will come fetch you as soon as possible. We do provide maps!

We house data on every subject you can imagine. Unfortunately, the Council has declared that some data is restricted or forbidden to be shared, so topics relating to Decepticons, certain medical, scientific, historical, political and religious areas of interest are unfortunately off limits. We are working diligently to rectify this per repeated appeals to the Council. It is my personal mission as Head Archivist to make nearly all of these records available for study by all citizens. 

As for your secondary inquiry; I used to have restrictions, when I was first re-hired. Because of my instability and my “concerning” relationship with my Conjunx, I was highly monitored and limited in which data I was allowed to work with. The other Archivists were distrustful, especially when I required Megatronus’ assistance to maintain stability whilst I worked. They used to call him my ‘emotional support warlord.’ 

Over time, however, trust formed and both Megatronus and I gained the support of my fellow Archivists. It quickly became apparent that I was much more highly qualified than my peers when it came to decrypting and restoring pre-war data after a large cache was retrieved from war-time ruins. I was the only one able to fully decrypt the data to its original state. 

I soon became the Archivist sought specifically for handling ancient data sources, and this somewhat elevated my position. I was trusted with much more than I was before, simply because I was the only one qualified enough to process it. 

However, once I became Head Archivist, everything was made available to me. They can certainly try to keep me out of certain data they do not want me to see, but it will cross my processor eventually. There is not a scrap of data anywhere on this planet I cannot access if I want it. That is one of the perks of my position. 

I have put tremendous effort into making the Hall of Records a better place than it was before the war. If Alpha Trion could see the changes I’ve made, I am certain he would blow a gasket! But I am still proud of what the Archives have become. I’ve made a lot of changes that I know my mentor would not have approved of. But I hope the Archives can be an example of the sort of world that Megatronus and I envisioned and are still hoping to see achieved. 

Head Archivist:

Orion Pax

[cheekynoz]

WARLORD WORKPLACE

Part 2

On a Marine ship

Mihawk: Unprompted, at the dinner table. "I'd kill you with Yoru. I'd exhaust all my effort in a single attack against you, and I'd cut you down with all my might."

Crocodile: Looking up at him from across the table

Marine #285: Whispered to Marine #254 "I have a feeling this is going to go badly if they're already threatening each other."

Crocodile: With a tiny smile, a blush over his scar. "How romantic, Hawk."

Pt 1 -> Pt 2 -> Pt 3

(Masterlist)

[quinloki]

Quicksand

Fem Reader x Sir Crocodile

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations, yandere, angst with a happy ending, a referenced instance of physical abuse. 18+ only

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -

Chapter 7: Shifting

You change the contact in your phone from "Him" to "Suwani" and check again to make sure you have all your things. Fortunately, your clothes survived the night, a little rumpled, but none the less for wear. Crocodile was in the bathroom finishing up his shower, and you'd had your turn before him.

You hear the water shut off, and shortly after, he comes out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. You drop your phone. Water's running down his body is rivulets, and his hair is doing as it pleases, falling over his face. You pull your eyes away and grab you phone, putting your back to him as your face goes red.

"You've seen much more than this, Miss (Y/N)." He says, his voice sleepy and neither teasing nor annoyed.

"That and this are two different concerns." You say, pointedly keeping your back turned. You had gotten dressed in the bathroom before coming out, though you had spent most of your shower concerned he was going to wander in on you. Honestly, concerned wasn't really the right word for it.

You could feel him standing behind you, a hint of amusement in his voice. "And what exactly is this?"

"Ex-excessive and unfair, Suwani." You admonish him, glancing over your shoulder before looking away again.

"Mm. Shortening my nickname already." He muses and puts the towel around your shoulders.

"It... has the same number of syllables as Crocodile that way, and just seemed more right." You admit, taking the towel off your shoulders slowly and setting it on the bed. "I'm not calling you something mean if I change it, am I?"

"Hm? No, not at all. Even if you were, I wouldn't mind." He admits. "I'll have to come up with a fitting pet name for you, miss (Y/N)."

"Oh gods," you groan, putting your face in your hands as your ears go red. "I feel like I'm under-level for this."

"Under-leveled?" He questions, and there's some energy in his voice finally. "You're likening me to a boss fight in a video game?"

"Are you dressed yet?"

"Enough."

You turn to look and feel the heat in your face drop into your chest. Shoes, pants, and somehow the act of him buttoning up his shirt was worse than if it had been completely on or off. You close your eyes and breathe in deep before letting out a quiet sigh.

"I didn't expect you to have played video games, Mr. Crocodile. One of the world's youngest and most successful businessmen, who is also a Warlord, and I can't picture you sitting down and playing an RPG in your spare time." You look away as he smirks at you. "I honestly can't imagine you having spare time."

"If I hadn't learned how to make time for myself, miss (Y/N), I wouldn't have been able to sign up on that website." He says with a grin. "Granted, ten years ago I lacked the capacity to delegate the way I do now, but-." He holds up his glass hand, as he puts the glove back on it, moving the fingers deliberately. "They're remarkably useful for rehabilitation."

. . . . . . .

You and Crocodile had gone your separate ways from the hotel on Sunday afternoon and had planned to connect again in a couple weeks. If the opportunity arose sooner, you would catch dinner together, but it was hard to say how late either of you would be at work. While you were both busy, texts weren't difficult to check or send, and you managed to keep in touch throughout the course of a day.

In the meantime, you had something more daunting to deal with than scheduling conflicts, and that was the central communications of the workplace rumor mill – aka Alvida.

"So, how'd it go?" Alvida questions as soon as you were out of Buggy's office. Her voice had the usual almost melodic tone it got when she knew she was on the verge of juicy gossip.

"Horrid," you assert. "I had a delightful time being stood up in a café I can at least recommend on its own merits."

Alvida regards you for a moment. "Mm. I'm sure, and the scones from Saturday were so good there's still a pep in your step today." She gives you a look, and you avert your gaze before you can stop yourself. "I would daresay your skin actually looks improved."

"I went on a beauty product shopping binge to console myself on Sunday." You reply, managing to return her gaze this time. "Avocado oils are good for the hair and skin."

"(Y/N)." Alvida says flatly. "If you had been stood up after two months of rock-solid conversation," she muses as you inwardly curse yourself for confiding anything about your conversations to her, "then you would've come into work with a new haircut, and honestly probably far too much makeup."

"Instead," she continues, stepping into your path and catching your gaze. "Your hair is intact, your makeup as sparse as ever, and you have had this delightful little smile on your face since you came in today."

You cover your mouth and groan inwardly. You weren't practiced in duplicity, your slip about knowing Suwani was a Warlord over the weekend was proof enough of that.

"Fine, fine. I had a very delightful meet up with a gentleman who was – I swear to you by my unchanged hair – not Buggy, and I am looking forward to our next date." You practically hiss, caving in. "Now, can I get back to work? We're hosting that Auction next week and I have a lot to prep between now and then."

"Alright, alright. I'll find out who this mystery gentleman is eventually." Alvida promises, stepping aside. "You know, if you tell me right now, no fuss – no muss – no B.S. – I swear to you, on my prized collection of hats I won't tell a soul."

You pause. You know how important Alvida's hat collection is to her. She dated a man once who stained one of them and nearly killed him for it. Buggy had spent half the casino's petty cash covering the medical bills and paying the guy off, and the petty cash box had a staggering amount in it.

"You repeat what I tell you, and I'll burn your entire collection with my own two hands." You reply.

"I'll buy you the lighter if I do." Alvida swore.

You lean in and whisper into her ear, and then step back. The shock on her face switched to denial, and then the denial turned to understanding as she watches your face turn more and more red.

"Seriously?"

You nod.

There was a tense moment of silence between the two of you and Alvida's face went through a series of pained expressions.

"I'll buy you a lighter, but I will do my absolute best to ensure you don't use it." She admits. "Something like that getting out in the casino could actually put you a tight spot, and I rather like you (Y/N)."

"I appreciate everything about that statement." You smile. "But I will also burn all of your hats, Alvida."

She puts her free hand up in surrender. "Understood. Still though, I want to hear the details of how that first meeting went down." She laughs. "I can imagine the look on your face!"

"Seriously, of all the statistical improbabilities," you grumble, setting your work down on your desk and starting to organize it.

"Things went well though, yes?"

You nod. "If not for two months of conversation I don't think they would've went anywhere, but yes, I'm looking forward to seeing how things go."

"If not for two months... don't tell me you'd turn him down if he had asked you out cold?" Alvida's face is full of disbelief.

"One hundred percent. One thousand percent." You say. "I mean, sure I had my crush, but," you motion with your hand. "You know me, Alvida."

"As Buggy has said, you are certainly the least flashy person here." She admits, agreeing with you.

"Someone has to be the anchor." You quip, a smile on your face.

"You certainly ground Buggy when he needs it, so I do appreciate your acceptance of your position." Alvida admits, a teasing tone in her voice.

"You know though," Alvida says, leaning close and lowering her voice. "It's going to get out eventually, what are you going to do?"

You shrug. "We've had one date. I guess, what I'll do depends on where we are at that point." You smile a little bitterly. "If he's asked me to marry him or something, that'd be different from having only gone out a few times, you know?"

"Marriage?" Alvida repeats, the tone in her voice a mix of surprise and bemusement. You can picture the cocked eyebrow and delighted smile that has to be on her face, even though you don't look at her.

"I mean, we've been talking for hours a day the last two months, Alvida, I don't think I'm being a twitterpated teenager by considering it as a possibility." You grumble. "I'm not expecting it though, don't misunderstand."

"Well, good to know you're as level-headed as usual."

"Mm. Hey, any idea what Buggy did over the weekend?"

"He's been working on starting his own business. I guess he's been consulting with some of his old friends." Alvida said absently.

"Oh wow." You stop working and look over at her. "Seriously?"

Alvida shrugs. "As seriously as I think he does anything. I have no idea what kind of business it is."

"... I imagine it's kind of cruel of me to hope it doesn't work out for him."

"Aww, gonna miss our stressed-out screechy boss?"

"A little, I just don't want to end up with some absolute useless asshole in his place. I already know how to deal with Buggy."

Alvida laughs. "You could, you know, pillow talk your way int-."

"Absolutely not." You almost slam your hand on the desk. "That was a caveat of... uh... things. No work benefits or burdens due to anything personal."

Alvida flinches a bit and then chuckles. "Yeah, not surprised."

"Huh," you mutter an hour after working silently. "The auction next week is being hosted by Donquixote Doflamingo?"

"Yeah, the CEO of SMILE, Inc.? Well, new CEO, he stepped up after retiring from modeling last year, didn't he?"

"Beats me," you admit with a shrug, wondering internally how many of the Warlords had legitimate businesses as fronts. "Isn't SMILE a pharmaceutical company? From Model to CEO of something like that seems like a heck of a leap."

"Oh, I'm sure he pulled some strings," Alvida says. "His money has money." You snort at her sarcasm. "Still, they say he was educated in the Holy Lands, so he's probably smarter than he looks."

Alvida flips her phone and holds it out to you. There's a picture of a tall, well-built man on the beach in glaringly pink swim trunks with hair so blonde it's almost lost in the sunlight. His shaggy hair is drenched, and it looks good on him that way. You can feel the arrogance rolling off of him in the photo, it's obvious he's aware he's being photographed.

"I'm surprised he's retired from modeling." You admit. "He's not even thirty yet, I can't imagine."

"He's been doing that work since he was 16, I think? He might just be tired of it." Alvida says, seemingly disinterested. "He'd be cuter if he wasn't so aware of his good looks."

"Can you get me a behavioral write up on him before the Auction?" You ask. "I know we usually have more time with these big profile events, but anything would help."

"Sure, I'll have Galdino and Cabaji help me." She assures you. "Think you're going to have trouble corralling him during the auction?"

"Maybe. Better to over prepare than under prepare." You roll your shoulders and release some of the building tension and check your phone. You smile at the message that had been waiting for you and ignore the musical hum coming from Alvida.

Suwani: The impending auction will have me in late this week and most of next. I should have time to at least talk tonight if you're able.

You: The auction will have me busy as well, but I shouldn't be held up too late.

Suwani: ... The Auction's in the South branch, were you transferred to assist?

You: No, Buggy told us it was happening here. We've got all the paperwork and everything.

A moment later you hear the phone in Buggy's office ring. Without a text response, you put your phone back and kept one ear toward the door. If Buggy starts to screech, you'd have to go in there and help him. The man didn't panic often, but he could be a handful if he did, and it was best to sort it out quickly.

A few minutes later, Buggy came out of the office, looking well enough. At the very least he wasn't on the verge of collapse, and he almost looked pleased with himself.

"What's brought you out of your sanctuary, Boss?" Alvida questions, leaning on her desk and feigning deep interest.

"I successfully smoothed over a paperwork issue with the owner," He admits proudly. "Due to the short notice of the upcoming auction, we'll be receiving a few extra hands to help with preparations and security."

"Will I be coordinating these new extra hands?" You ask, smiling angrily at Buggy. You wouldn't say no if he intended for you to do so, but you had enough on your hands making sure you could keep the Pink Warlord happy while he was here.

"Nope! I will." He replies, proudly. "Sir Crocodile told me to consider it practice for my own future endeavors."

"I've heard you plan on abandoning me eventually, boss, but I didn't think you'd be so open about it." You grin, your angry smile turning more teasing as you sort the paperwork in front of you idly.

Buggy actually blushes. "I wouldn't call it abandoning... I mean, I'm sure I could use your help (Y/N)."

You laugh. "I'm teasing you boss. Just, let me know how things go, I don't want to get caught off-guard by a new boss with no heads up."

He clears his throat. "Of course not. Ah, I was going to order food for the three of us so we can try to get ahead of this auction, any requests?"

"Salad's fine," Alvida replies.

"I'm okay with whatever, even grocery store sushi." You reply, amusing yourself with your own little internal joke.

The rest of the day went on without incident and you headed home only a little later than usual. Being able to work through lunch while still getting to eat lunch made the day go smoothly, and you were grateful for Buggy's consideration. There was less stress after work as well, knowing that you wouldn't have quite the mountain to deal with the next day.

Traffic was backed up enough, and slow enough that you took your phone out.

You: Thank you.

Suwani: For?

You: The extra hands, and for not giving my boss a heart attack.

Suwani: You're welcome.

You: It might be my imagination, but you seem upset.

Suwani: May I call?

You: I'll have to put you on speaker, I'm stuck in traffic.

After a moment your phone rings, and you answer, putting it on speaker so you could keep your eyes on the road. Riveting as it was, it could start moving at any moment. You hoped at least.

"Good evening, Suwani." You answer.

"Good evening, Miss Wednesday." He replies. It wasn't exactly a pet name, but it was an agreeable moniker for him to use when you two didn't want anyone to know you were talking to one another. "I wanted to be able to be clear that I am not angry, however I didn't expect my promise to you to be tested so soon."

"Promise?"

"That our relationship would not negatively or positively effect your job." He clarifies, and there is a hint of aggravation in his voice.

"Ah, you don't want me to have to deal with him." You say in understanding. The Warlords worked together to maintain their requirements to the World Government, but it didn't mean they got along.

"Guilty," he admits, a small sigh escaping him as his aggravation was replaced with something more akin to anger. "I wasn't thrilled with the auction in the first place, but it's too lucrative for both of us to dismiss it."

"I asked Alvida to do a Behavioral write up on him, from the obvious side of things, anything you can tell me that would help?"

There's a deep sigh from the other end of the phone. "He is, much to my disdain, a brilliant businessman. He's very astute, and the number of people who have seen his eyes can be counted on a single hand, so don't expect those glasses to come off. Don't even comment on them. He's going to flirt – with you, with Alvida, probably with Buggy if he thinks it'll create some chaos. He's a cross between a peacock and a flamingo with all the kindness of rabid badger. If he finds one loose thread, he'll pull it until everything around him unravels. He's more chaos than man."

"That's... useful. A little unsettling, but useful." You admit.

"You cannot be completely professional with him, Miss Wednesday." He warns and there's a tone in his voice that sounds like concern, maybe fear. "If you aren't a little ruffled by his actions, he'll try harder. Worse case he'll become interested."

"Haaa, that's a fine line to walk, but I'll do my best." You assure him.

"Mm, I trust your capacity. I'll be there the day of the auction, but I won't show you a moment's more attention than needed. You or anyone else. There's... history between that feathered bastard and myself, and I don't want him to start eyeing any of the employees in an attempt to get under my skin."

"I hope this is lucrative. Seems like a lot of risk for relatively small reward."

"It is unforgivably lucrative." He replies. "If it was anything less, I wouldn't risk it. I'm not even sure I want to, but if I backed out now, he'd only dig in harder."

"And he'd be focused on the West Branch, wouldn't he?"

"Exceptionally so, yes."

"I guess this means I'll be practicing with Dandy." You sigh.

"... I feel as though I should apologize." Crocodile says after a moment.

You laugh. "It's fine, it's fine. If I can be brutally honest without getting anyone into trouble?"

"Of course."

"Dandy gets under my skin. I almost think I hate him, but if I can keep myself steady practicing with him, I should be in a good place for the auction. He's very arrogant, over-sure of himself, and callous toward anyone he's not interested in. He is, however, good at his actual job though, so I just let Alvida deal with him."

"I'm surprised," he admits with an amused tone in his voice. "You were brutally honest."

[sir-sunawani]

Quicksand

Fem Reader x Sir Crocodile

20 Chapters - 46,838 words

Read it on Ao3 or Wattpad

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations, yandere, angst with a happy ending, a referenced instance of physical abuse. 18+ only

Chapter 7: Shifting

You change the contact in your phone from "Him" to "Suwani" and check again to make sure you have all your things. Fortunately, your clothes survived the night, a little rumpled, but none the less for wear. Crocodile was in the bathroom finishing up his shower, and you'd had your turn before him.

You hear the water shut off, and shortly after, he comes out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. You drop your phone. Water's running down his body is rivulets, and his hair is doing as it pleases, falling over his face. You pull your eyes away and grab you phone, putting your back to him as your face goes red.

"You've seen much more than this, Miss (Y/N)." He says, his voice sleepy and neither teasing nor annoyed.

"That and this are two different concerns." You say, pointedly keeping your back turned. You had gotten dressed in the bathroom before coming out, though you had spent most of your shower concerned he was going to wander in on you. Honestly, concerned wasn't really the right word for it.

You could feel him standing behind you, a hint of amusement in his voice. "And what exactly is this?"

"Ex-excessive and unfair, Suwani." You admonish him, glancing over your shoulder before looking away again.

"Mm. Shortening my nickname already." He muses and puts the towel around your shoulders.

"It... has the same number of syllables as Crocodile that way, and just seemed more right." You admit, taking the towel off your shoulders slowly and setting it on the bed. "I'm not calling you something mean if I change it, am I?"

"Hm? No, not at all. Even if you were, I wouldn't mind." He admits. "I'll have to come up with a fitting pet name for you, miss (Y/N)."

"Oh gods," you groan, putting your face in your hands as your ears go red. "I feel like I'm under-level for this."

"Under-leveled?" He questions, and there's some energy in his voice finally. "You're likening me to a boss fight in a video game?"

"Are you dressed yet?"

"Enough."

You turn to look and feel the heat in your face drop into your chest. Shoes, pants, and somehow the act of him buttoning up his shirt was worse than if it had been completely on or off. You close your eyes and breathe in deep before letting out a quiet sigh.

"I didn't expect you to have played video games, Mr. Crocodile. One of the world's youngest and most successful businessmen, who is also a Warlord, and I can't picture you sitting down and playing an RPG in your spare time." You look away as he smirks at you. "I honestly can't imagine you having spare time."

"If I hadn't learned how to make time for myself, miss (Y/N), I wouldn't have been able to sign up on that website." He says with a grin. "Granted, ten years ago I lacked the capacity to delegate the way I do now, but-." He holds up his glass hand, as he puts the glove back on it, moving the fingers deliberately. "They're remarkably useful for rehabilitation."

. . . . . . .

You and Crocodile had gone your separate ways from the hotel on Sunday afternoon and had planned to connect again in a couple weeks. If the opportunity arose sooner, you would catch dinner together, but it was hard to say how late either of you would be at work. While you were both busy, texts weren't difficult to check or send, and you managed to keep in touch throughout the course of a day.

In the meantime, you had something more daunting to deal with than scheduling conflicts, and that was the central communications of the workplace rumor mill – aka Alvida.

"So, how'd it go?" Alvida questions as soon as you were out of Buggy's office. Her voice had the usual almost melodic tone it got when she knew she was on the verge of juicy gossip.

"Horrid," you assert. "I had a delightful time being stood up in a café I can at least recommend on its own merits."

Alvida regards you for a moment. "Mm. I'm sure, and the scones from Saturday were so good there's still a pep in your step today." She gives you a look, and you avert your gaze before you can stop yourself. "I would daresay your skin actually looks improved."

"I went on a beauty product shopping binge to console myself on Sunday." You reply, managing to return her gaze this time. "Avocado oils are good for the hair and skin."

"(Y/N)." Alvida says flatly. "If you had been stood up after two months of rock-solid conversation," she muses as you inwardly curse yourself for confiding anything about your conversations to her, "then you would've come into work with a new haircut, and honestly probably far too much makeup."

"Instead," she continues, stepping into your path and catching your gaze. "Your hair is intact, your makeup as sparse as ever, and you have had this delightful little smile on your face since you came in today."

You cover your mouth and groan inwardly. You weren't practiced in duplicity, your slip about knowing Suwani was a Warlord over the weekend was proof enough of that.

"Fine, fine. I had a very delightful meet up with a gentleman who was – I swear to you by my unchanged hair – not Buggy, and I am looking forward to our next date." You practically hiss, caving in. "Now, can I get back to work? We're hosting that Auction next week and I have a lot to prep between now and then."

"Alright, alright. I'll find out who this mystery gentleman is eventually." Alvida promises, stepping aside. "You know, if you tell me right now, no fuss – no muss – no B.S. – I swear to you, on my prized collection of hats I won't tell a soul."

You pause. You know how important Alvida's hat collection is to her. She dated a man once who stained one of them and nearly killed him for it. Buggy had spent half the casino's petty cash covering the medical bills and paying the guy off, and the petty cash box had a staggering amount in it.

"You repeat what I tell you, and I'll burn your entire collection with my own two hands." You reply.

"I'll buy you the lighter if I do." Alvida swore.

You lean in and whisper into her ear, and then step back. The shock on her face switched to denial, and then the denial turned to understanding as she watches your face turn more and more red.

"Seriously?"

You nod.

There was a tense moment of silence between the two of you and Alvida's face went through a series of pained expressions.

"I'll buy you a lighter, but I will do my absolute best to ensure you don't use it." She admits. "Something like that getting out in the casino could actually put you a tight spot, and I rather like you (Y/N)."

"I appreciate everything about that statement." You smile. "But I will also burn all of your hats, Alvida."

She puts her free hand up in surrender. "Understood. Still though, I want to hear the details of how that first meeting went down." She laughs. "I can imagine the look on your face!"

"Seriously, of all the statistical improbabilities," you grumble, setting your work down on your desk and starting to organize it.

"Things went well though, yes?"

You nod. "If not for two months of conversation I don't think they would've went anywhere, but yes, I'm looking forward to seeing how things go."

"If not for two months... don't tell me you'd turn him down if he had asked you out cold?" Alvida's face is full of disbelief.

"One hundred percent. One thousand percent." You say. "I mean, sure I had my crush, but," you motion with your hand. "You know me, Alvida."

"As Buggy has said, you are certainly the least flashy person here." She admits, agreeing with you.

"Someone has to be the anchor." You quip, a smile on your face.

"You certainly ground Buggy when he needs it, so I do appreciate your acceptance of your position." Alvida admits, a teasing tone in her voice.

"You know though," Alvida says, leaning close and lowering her voice. "It's going to get out eventually, what are you going to do?"

You shrug. "We've had one date. I guess, what I'll do depends on where we are at that point." You smile a little bitterly. "If he's asked me to marry him or something, that'd be different from having only gone out a few times, you know?"

"Marriage?" Alvida repeats, the tone in her voice a mix of surprise and bemusement. You can picture the cocked eyebrow and delighted smile that has to be on her face, even though you don't look at her.

"I mean, we've been talking for hours a day the last two months, Alvida, I don't think I'm being a twitterpated teenager by considering it as a possibility." You grumble. "I'm not expecting it though, don't misunderstand."

"Well, good to know you're as level-headed as usual."

"Mm. Hey, any idea what Buggy did over the weekend?"

"He's been working on starting his own business. I guess he's been consulting with some of his old friends." Alvida said absently.

"Oh wow." You stop working and look over at her. "Seriously?"

Alvida shrugs. "As seriously as I think he does anything. I have no idea what kind of business it is."

"... I imagine it's kind of cruel of me to hope it doesn't work out for him."

"Aww, gonna miss our stressed-out screechy boss?"

"A little, I just don't want to end up with some absolute useless asshole in his place. I already know how to deal with Buggy."

Alvida laughs. "You could, you know, pillow talk your way int-."

"Absolutely not." You almost slam your hand on the desk. "That was a caveat of... uh... things. No work benefits or burdens due to anything personal."

Alvida flinches a bit and then chuckles. "Yeah, not surprised."

"Huh," you mutter an hour after working silently. "The auction next week is being hosted by Donquixote Doflamingo?"

"Yeah, the CEO of SMILE, Inc.? Well, new CEO, he stepped up after retiring from modeling last year, didn't he?"

"Beats me," you admit with a shrug, wondering internally how many of the Warlords had legitimate businesses as fronts. "Isn't SMILE a pharmaceutical company? From Model to CEO of something like that seems like a heck of a leap."

"Oh, I'm sure he pulled some strings," Alvida says. "His money has money." You snort at her sarcasm. "Still, they say he was educated in the Holy Lands, so he's probably smarter than he looks."

Alvida flips her phone and holds it out to you. There's a picture of a tall, well-built man on the beach in glaringly pink swim trunks with hair so blonde it's almost lost in the sunlight. His shaggy hair is drenched, and it looks good on him that way. You can feel the arrogance rolling off of him in the photo, it's obvious he's aware he's being photographed.

"I'm surprised he's retired from modeling." You admit. "He's not even thirty yet, I can't imagine."

"He's been doing that work since he was 16, I think? He might just be tired of it." Alvida says, seemingly disinterested. "He'd be cuter if he wasn't so aware of his good looks."

"Can you get me a behavioral write up on him before the Auction?" You ask. "I know we usually have more time with these big profile events, but anything would help."

"Sure, I'll have Galdino and Cabaji help me." She assures you. "Think you're going to have trouble corralling him during the auction?"

"Maybe. Better to over prepare than under prepare." You roll your shoulders and release some of the building tension and check your phone. You smile at the message that had been waiting for you and ignore the musical hum coming from Alvida.

Suwani: The impending auction will have me in late this week and most of next. I should have time to at least talk tonight if you're able.

You: The auction will have me busy as well, but I shouldn't be held up too late.

Suwani: ... The Auction's in the South branch, were you transferred to assist?

You: No, Buggy told us it was happening here. We've got all the paperwork and everything.

A moment later you hear the phone in Buggy's office ring. Without a text response, you put your phone back and kept one ear toward the door. If Buggy starts to screech, you'd have to go in there and help him. The man didn't panic often, but he could be a handful if he did, and it was best to sort it out quickly.

A few minutes later, Buggy came out of the office, looking well enough. At the very least he wasn't on the verge of collapse, and he almost looked pleased with himself.

"What's brought you out of your sanctuary, Boss?" Alvida questions, leaning on her desk and feigning deep interest.

"I successfully smoothed over a paperwork issue with the owner," He admits proudly. "Due to the short notice of the upcoming auction, we'll be receiving a few extra hands to help with preparations and security."

"Will I be coordinating these new extra hands?" You ask, smiling angrily at Buggy. You wouldn't say no if he intended for you to do so, but you had enough on your hands making sure you could keep the Pink Warlord happy while he was here.

"Nope! I will." He replies, proudly. "Sir Crocodile told me to consider it practice for my own future endeavors."

"I've heard you plan on abandoning me eventually, boss, but I didn't think you'd be so open about it." You grin, your angry smile turning more teasing as you sort the paperwork in front of you idly.

Buggy actually blushes. "I wouldn't call it abandoning... I mean, I'm sure I could use your help (Y/N)."

You laugh. "I'm teasing you boss. Just, let me know how things go, I don't want to get caught off-guard by a new boss with no heads up."

He clears his throat. "Of course not. Ah, I was going to order food for the three of us so we can try to get ahead of this auction, any requests?"

"Salad's fine," Alvida replies.

"I'm okay with whatever, even grocery store sushi." You reply, amusing yourself with your own little internal joke.

The rest of the day went on without incident and you headed home only a little later than usual. Being able to work through lunch while still getting to eat lunch made the day go smoothly, and you were grateful for Buggy's consideration. There was less stress after work as well, knowing that you wouldn't have quite the mountain to deal with the next day.

Traffic was backed up enough, and slow enough that you took your phone out.

You: Thank you.

Suwani: For?

You: The extra hands, and for not giving my boss a heart attack.

Suwani: You're welcome.

You: It might be my imagination, but you seem upset.

Suwani: May I call?

You: I'll have to put you on speaker, I'm stuck in traffic.

After a moment your phone rings, and you answer, putting it on speaker so you could keep your eyes on the road. Riveting as it was, it could start moving at any moment. You hoped at least.

"Good evening, Suwani." You answer.

"Good evening, Miss Wednesday." He replies. It wasn't exactly a pet name, but it was an agreeable moniker for him to use when you two didn't want anyone to know you were talking to one another. "I wanted to be able to be clear that I am not angry, however I didn't expect my promise to you to be tested so soon."

"Promise?"

"That our relationship would not negatively or positively effect your job." He clarifies, and there is a hint of aggravation in his voice.

"Ah, you don't want me to have to deal with him." You say in understanding. The Warlords worked together to maintain their requirements to the World Government, but it didn't mean they got along.

"Guilty," he admits, a small sigh escaping him as his aggravation was replaced with something more akin to anger. "I wasn't thrilled with the auction in the first place, but it's too lucrative for both of us to dismiss it."

"I asked Alvida to do a Behavioral write up on him, from the obvious side of things, anything you can tell me that would help?"

There's a deep sigh from the other end of the phone. "He is, much to my disdain, a brilliant businessman. He's very astute, and the number of people who have seen his eyes can be counted on a single hand, so don't expect those glasses to come off. Don't even comment on them. He's going to flirt – with you, with Alvida, probably with Buggy if he thinks it'll create some chaos. He's a cross between a peacock and a flamingo with all the kindness of rabid badger. If he finds one loose thread, he'll pull it until everything around him unravels. He's more chaos than man."

"That's... useful. A little unsettling, but useful." You admit.

"You cannot be completely professional with him, Miss Wednesday." He warns and there's a tone in his voice that sounds like concern, maybe fear. "If you aren't a little ruffled by his actions, he'll try harder. Worse case he'll become interested."

"Haaa, that's a fine line to walk, but I'll do my best." You assure him.

"Mm, I trust your capacity. I'll be there the day of the auction, but I won't show you a moment's more attention than needed. You or anyone else. There's... history between that feathered bastard and myself, and I don't want him to start eyeing any of the employees in an attempt to get under my skin."

"I hope this is lucrative. Seems like a lot of risk for relatively small reward."

"It is unforgivably lucrative." He replies. "If it was anything less, I wouldn't risk it. I'm not even sure I want to, but if I backed out now, he'd only dig in harder."

"And he'd be focused on the West Branch, wouldn't he?"

"Exceptionally so, yes."

"I guess this means I'll be practicing with Dandy." You sigh.

"... I feel as though I should apologize." Crocodile says after a moment.

You laugh. "It's fine, it's fine. If I can be brutally honest without getting anyone into trouble?"

"Of course."

"Dandy gets under my skin. I almost think I hate him, but if I can keep myself steady practicing with him, I should be in a good place for the auction. He's very arrogant, over-sure of himself, and callous toward anyone he's not interested in. He is, however, good at his actual job though, so I just let Alvida deal with him."

"I'm surprised," he admits with an amused tone in his voice. "You were brutally honest."

[descendent-of-the-sixth-heaven]

*Cherry also got a job using her old resume and certificates. She has to go to work by train while Kenshin can use the bicycle since his workplace is near the house. Two months later, while she is going back home, she found Sasuke at the train station with a few warlords with him*

Sasuke? Is that him?

*She tries to get across the crowds to reach them*

*Sasuke was with Ranmaru and Yoshimoto. They spotted cherry and waved at her*

Sasuke: cherry?! Long time no see, how have you been?

[atreides-blinds]

If I had a Time Machine I would destabilize feudal governments by showing the serfs Oddly Satisfying videos. Imagine the Baron looking from his ivory tower in horror as farmers and task masters alike are transfixed by short form videos of bottles falling down stairs until they shatter, revealing marbles inside. I could reduce productivity further if I showed them those same videos, but dueted by that woman who speaks in what I assume is a fake French accent (perhaps the Dauphin, whose economy I would actively be tanking, would know). The warlords would conspire and bring me before a tribunal. I would appeal to neither God, Odin, nor that idol we call Reason as I stood before them. I would instead show them a YouTube compilation of Family Guy: Best Cutaway Gags. They would make me their god. I would then make these videos scarce and valuable, setting my subjects to work twice as hard as their former lords had. I would play Subway Surfers footage on a loop in their cathedrals, provided they deposited enough coins in the machines. I would make Fortnite Vbucks the new currency. I would bring about a time of great peace and all would wonder at my signs and marvels. Then one day, I would leave, bringing my technology with me, leaving the world in hopeless yearning. Then I would apply for jobs until I finally got one, making about 35k a year until the workplace got too toxic (so more like 10k). I too would yearn. “Good things end,” I’d explain to my middle manager at my performance review. “Yet I endure, an unmoved mover, a paradoxical causal anomaly. I must question my very goodness in the face of entropy. God is change, yet I am unchanging, like the fundamentalists evangelical’s conception of Yahweh, or Donald Duck. My very existence is a theodicy.”

“Totally,” my manager would reply, adding, “…so we’ve received some complaints…”

[grandhotelabyss]

Do you believe that the surges of anti-liberal sentiment, whether from left or right, populist or far-right, have a future in America beyond the fringes? Or will there eventually be a return to mainstream liberalism, despite its flaws? Is the era of liberalism truly over, and despite its many inadequacies, potentially to be replaced by something even worse? Maybe too broad of a question but as an eloquent observer of this developments would be interesting to have your take.

Thanks! George Eliot wrote that "prophecy is the most gratuitous form of mistake," but I'll do my best.

Paradoxically, I think we'll see a rhetorical return to mainstream liberalism coupled with an erosion of liberalism from within, due less to ideology than to underlying economic and technological tendencies.

We're probably maxed-out on overt radical politics for about a generation. Elon has essentially and intentionally disabled the frenzy-generating mechanism by which everything but the 2016 Electoral College moved ever-leftward in the 2010s. And if it is Trump vs. Biden, 2024 will be the last election between big mobilizing 20th-century-style personalities. Those post-broadcast-media figures waiting in the wings in both parties—Ron, Gavin, Nikki, Kamala, Vivek, Pete: we can't even bring ourselves to address them by surname—are hardly going to inspire collective passion. (Even the old Silent-Gen hack Biden, a behind-the-scenes glad-hander and back-slapper, isn't that big, compared to Trump or Obama.)

On the other hand, we will all increasingly be wired into the same system for everything we do, and that system will police and punish us in ways more insidious than ever seen before (here is one small example of what I'm talking about). Coupled with this techno-creep, the class that supports liberalism—now almost exclusively the professional-managerial class, with its classically imperialist "civilizing" attitude toward the populace, alongside a handful of disadvantaged client populations with an understandable siege mentality—has turned more and more against freedom of speech in principle and practice. Official schools, workplaces, and centers of culture controlled by the liberal class are probably never going to return to their 20th-century status as redoubts of independent thought; unofficial schools, workplaces, and centers of culture will become more and more crucial to our very ability to think and to feel.

If we go to war, the process I've described will accelerate, since war mobilization causes nations to centralize. If not, and if our federal system continues to fragment and various forms of government and corporate inertia allows our infrastructure to crumble, then the process will be abraded by daily anarchy of the cyberpunk dystopia sort. In this scenario, there may be a role for expressly illiberal paramilitaries and warlords of the Proud Boy or Antifa varieties.

But I doubt that the mainstream of American politics, as long as such an entity exists, will ever fly a foreign flag like the flags of fascism or communism or of some sort of theocracy. (This was the silliest detail, the most Canadian detail, in The Handmaid's Tale.) Even the far fringes of the two parties today still lay claim to the same flag and the same tradition, and I expect that to continue for the short to medium term. In the long term, who knows? Maybe the aliens will have taken over by then.