#insert several mental swears | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

turtletaubwrites · 6 days ago

Text

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 35

Lady Luck by My Side

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 10.2k+

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Luck Be a Lady (Dezio Rezio) ~ The Atomic Beat Ranchers | Feel So Numb ~ Rob Zombie

Summary: Buggy deals with your heavy words, while Crocodile and Mihawk fight for you in their own, desperate ways. You are making the best of your situation, and if you could avoid your uncle's wicked words, you might even end up enjoying yourself. If you're lucky, of course.

Ch. 34 Recap: I've decided to put the recap directly below the cut in case anyone sees this post before getting to the last chapter. It's a bit more detailed than usual, and I vehemently detest spoilers. I refuse to watch trailers for movies I plan to watch 😂 I don't even like writing summaries, so I keep them vague. Hope you don't mind!

Author's Note: I have missed y'all so very much, I can't begin to describe 😭💜 I won't get into my disappearing act here, but I'll share some details below the chapter if you're interested, and I'll probably make a life update post about it later. Now that I finally have the time, energy, and health, to write again, I just want to write Numbers Game!

Dark Content Warning: Dark Content is bracketed with ~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~ and summaries are bracketed with ~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~ directly below the scenes, so that you won’t miss the story if you need to not be in the BIG FEELS of the scenes. Please take care of yourself, you are not alone! 💜

~ 1st ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if severe mental illness, episodes, treatment, or neglect could be triggering for you.

~ 2nd ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if mental illness treatment, doctors, or panic attacks, might be triggering for you.

Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to chapter 1064 or episode 1093. As we get further into Egghead Arc where our lovely boys are showing up more, there will be more spoilers as time goes on. Sorry y'all, I'm trying to keep most spoilers small details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Hospitals, Doctors, Mental Health Treatment, Toxic Family, Childhood Trauma, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Death of an Unnamed Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Chapter 34 Recap: You struggled with your varied feelings for the hunters that fought for the chance to be your owner, surprised that you didn't hate them all. You discovered that Fukaboshi was a truly good man who knew that you'd be sending him away soon, and that Katakuri was far sweeter than he looked.

Mihawk discovered that his little rabbit's plight was being broadcast beyond the Oak Roots Estate, and his rage made him dirty his blade.

Former member's of Baroque Works, Zala and Marianne, reported back from Dr. Vorsan's asylum. Buggy fought against it at first, but Crocodile begged to watch the encrypted recordings they had found so that he could help his sweet girl. He saw her at fifteen years old, being restrained and drugged in that asylum after her father passed, and he demanded to see the next recording.

You lied to your sister about your feelings toward the Cross Guild, telling her that they were monsters, and you never wanted to see them again. You wanted to make her happy, so you'd keep up your smile, just like you had for your dad when you were little. You would pretend for her.

Chapter 35 ~ Lady Luck by My Side

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

Had it been hours? Years since he’d started watching?

There was nothing but the tears in her eyes, nothing but the futile sobs he could do nothing to stop.

‘Let me see my sister!’

‘Sweetie, you’re not ready yet. You need to get well first.’

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

‘I’m not sick, mom,’ his sweet girl begged, strapped to a table while her mother stood too far back to comfort her. ‘Just let me see Kitty, please. I need to see her. ‘

‘You need to focus on getting better,’ Delaine’s voice shifted, expertly condescending with a loving tone.

Crocodile did not fucking like this woman.

‘Sweetie, do you remember what happened? Do you remember what you did,’ Delaine prodded. Y/N’s face crumpled, sobbing while her worthless mother stood in silence.

‘It was an accident,” the fifteen-year-old girl pleaded while she struggled against her restraints.

‘I found you with that snail, Y/N, and I’m certain you would have killed the poor thing if I hadn’t found you when I did,’ Delaine scolded. Crocodile was going to gut this bitch for making her daughter cry like this. ‘I’m just grateful that it was me, I can’t imagine how your... It’s not your fault, of course. Arbo was always selfish, and now he’s made you sick. I’m sorry, honey, but it’s just not safe for Kathryn to be around you until you get well.’

‘Please, mom. Please listen to me,’ she whimpered, her body going weak, trembling.

‘Just listen to the doctor, alright? I know you don’t want to hurt anyone, but you’re sick, honey. You need to— ‘

‘I need you to fucking LISTEN!’

Delaine froze for a moment before turning away, heading toward the door. She walked closer to the cam-snail on her way out, and her eyes looked way too fucking dry.

Crocodile’s rage-filled thoughts were swept away by that young girl’s screams.

‘Mom, please, don’t leave me! Don’t let them— ‘

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

~~~

~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~

The scene above is from Crocodile’s POV while he watched a recording of the reader in the asylum when she was fifteen.

Her mother, Delaine, was present, and the reader stated that she wasn’t sick, and begged to see her little sister.

Delaine replied that it wasn’t safe for Kathryn to see her until she was well again and asked if the reader recalled what she did to the snail. The reader said that it was an accident, and asked Delaine to listen.

Delaine stated that she thought the reader would have killed the snail if Delaine hadn’t found her in time, and blamed Arbo’s selfishness for making the reader sick. She denied the reader's request again.

The reader yelled for her mother to listen, however, Delaine walked out, and Crocodile felt rage for how dry her eyes were. The reader screamed for her mother not to leave her, not to let them– (the last line cut off).

~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~

~~~

Y/N’s cries were cut short, the image of her teary face going blurry before the transmission cut out completely.

Crocodile had already destroyed all the furniture, so he crawled through the debris toward the smaller snail, answering the call before he had time to make it.

“Sir— “

“Finish the recording,” he threatened. “It wasn’t done, send it again.”

“The white snail passed out, sir,” Zala reported, her voice shaking almost as much as his fist. “I think that was too much for it all at once. It needs time to recover before we can send any more encrypted data.”

Crocodile could hear his teeth grinding together, but he kept still enough to speak a few words.

“Make sure it’s ready tomorrow.”

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Buggy felt somehow empty, and too full at the same time. His mind was too full of those vicious words his star had hissed, too full of fear and guilt over what to do about them.

“Secrets keep fucking shit up,” the clown murmured, pacing again.

It was just a lie. Star was lying to her sister.

It had been some damn good acting though, and Buggy hated the doubts it stirred in him. He couldn’t stuff them down.

I know she loves me, but could she really hate them? I could have sworn she…

Why ya gotta be such a good actor, baby?

Or maybe I’m just the selfish piece of shit that didn’t listen. I was too fucking distracted by that shithead. I wasn’t paying attention to you, Star, I just—

He gave a light yelp when the snail interrupted the constant beat of her heart, grateful to be distracted now while he floated toward Crocodile’s desk.

“Howdy,” Buggy coughed, perking up at the low chuckle that greeted him.

“Hello, little clown.”

“What’s up, crybaby?”

Mihawk’s voice sent chills across his skin, but all the clown could think about were those hateful words.

Murderers.

Monsters.

“Is that Crocodile,” the swordsman asked after a particularly loud crash echoed down the hall. “I have some news to report.”

“He’s watching…”

“Is he watching the feed?”

Now Mihawk’s voice chilled his blood.

“What feed?”

“I’m handling it,” his new lover tried and failed to soothe him. “Why don’t you two call me in the morning? I need to find a new room for the night anyway.”

“Why do you need— “

“How is she?”

Mihawk’s voice cracked just a bit, his desperation pushing through the relaxed front he’d clearly been holding up.

“Same. Finally sleeping,” Buggy rasped, clenching his eyes shut at the spike of a headache. “I’m gonna read my notes again, I think she said something… Crocodile might have something too, so we’ll call you tomorrow.”

…

“Mihawk?”

“You’ll tell me if she’s being hurt?”

“Yeah, I said I would.”

“And you’ll call me if she says she doesn’t want to be there? I don’t care if she whispers it in her sleep, Buggy, I’ll get her out. If she gives even the slightest opening, you’ll call me?”

…

“Bug— “

“Of course I will,” Buggy promised. It wasn’t a lie.

“Thank you. Get some rest, little clown.”

“You too, crybaby.”

Buggy stared blankly at the snail after the call until the near constant crashing and yelling down the corridor got louder. And closer.

His feet followed as fast as they could, but the rest of him charged into the banquet hall in time to see the terrifying sight of Sir Crocodile’s rage. The door to the conference room had been ripped off its hinges, and Buggy was caught in the other doorway, the urge to run held back only by the horror of what that frightening man might have seen.

Star…

Crocodile was alternating between smashing through tables and chairs with his hook, and draining them with his hand, leaving waves of splinters and sand to spill across the gleaming floor.

Until he made it to the head table.

“Hey boss, you really gonna wreck the best table in this shithole?”

Buggy had floated his upper body slightly above the other man’s head. He wasn’t stupid enough to put himself in between Crocodile and his fury, no matter how many memories that table held.

The clown almost fell from the air when those frantic, silver eyes met his.

“Is she still crying?”

“N-no… She’s sleeping.”

Crocodile fell to his knees, the tears on his scarred face slow and unsteady, as though they’d never traveled there before. Buggy brought himself together and did what he knew had to be a stupid thing.

He hugged the raging man, embracing this villain that had destroyed so much.

“I can’t… can’t leave her there, Buggy,” Crocodile panted into the crook of his neck. He nearly brought the clown to the floor with the amount of weight he rested on him.

“Don’t worry,” Buggy strained through his hold, “we’ve got her.”

The larger man crushed him against his chest, sucking down his tears before he started to offer comfort instead of taking it. Buggy made a show of accepting that comfort, knowing that he’d never be a better actor than his shining star.

Can’t tell ‘em. Can’t risk it.

The image of Crocodile and Mihawk collapsing in defeat at the party after Y/N had thrown her cruel words burned through his mind.

I know you’re lying, baby. You’re just a good actor.

Don’t wanna distract these idiots. They don’t know you like I do.

He tried to let go of his guilt, but those words played on a loop.

‘I don’t ever want to see those murderers— those monsters again.’

It wasn’t true.

It was a lie.

Buggy knew it was a lie.

It was a lie. Right, baby?

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The other men pushed and shoved each other when the scavenger hunt began, but Shanks had to hold himself back from the race. This one wouldn’t win him another date, and close contact with the other suitors had been pushing his self-control to its limit.

He’d always been able to let insults slide when it came to himself, when it was only words, but Shanks couldn’t recall this suffocating feeling.

This entire hunt was an insult, a torture made just for Y/N, and everyone here was having a lovely time using her.

Shanks could feel himself about to snap, and only his surety that it wouldn’t help her stayed his hand.

She couldn’t show her own rage, and it would be stupid and selfish to show his.

So, the red haired pirate sat this hunt out, staring at the old man that had weaseled his way beside her.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~��🌲🌲~~~

What was the theme today? Creating love? Finding my heart? Uncle really should have hired a showrunner for this shit.

By gods, you were bored. And having “Gibby” at your side was only making your condition worse.

“These young bucks sure do like to show off,” he teased, leaning his bony shoulder against yours, the scent of whiskey nearly knocking you out. “But I know what a sharp girl like you craves.”

“And what’s that, Gibby,” you flirted.

It would be so easy to kill him, wouldn’t it? Just a good punch to the throat would probably end this old man. But that would be it. So many eyes… He’s not worth it.

“A challenge of course,” he announced as though revealing a delightful trick. “You want to use your talents. All these little boys want is a little wife.”

“Oh,” you arched a brow, “and what do you want?”

The creep pinched your cheek. Even with your renewed determination, pretending was fucking rough.

“I want Lady Luck by my side, of course.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

How many… Do lives or liters of blood count for more? Those lives are nothing but—

“Mihawk?”

“I’m here.”

Crocodile’s voice was off. If not for his trained sense of hearing, Mihawk would have believed that voice belonged to someone else.

But it was him. His daddy. His brutal business partner that was too sweet on their former victims.

“You go first, crybaby,” Buggy threatened, bringing a tiny smile to the swordsman’s lips.

“Sylvad’s little game has an illegal broadcast,” Mihawk shared lightly, pretending it was fine. “Underground gambling rings are holding showings every night for an impressive fee. The show appears to be isolated to the surrounding island kingdoms, but that’s probably wishful thinking.”

The silence was torturous for them all, holding nothing but impotent rage.

Mihawk stretched his neck, removing his hat to keep it from scraping against the dusty walls. He’d found a lovely, little shed to lie in wait in until his prey were all lined up.

“I’ll be attending a showing tonight, so I should be able to watch the hunt. I’ll study the layout, and hopefully I’ll see something that you aren’t able to hear.”

“So, we’re all spying on her now,” Buggy sighed. The sound was so animated; Mihawk could see those shoulders slumping in his mind.

He didn’t know when he’d gotten so used to these men in his life.

“Wait,” he interrupted his own thoughts. “Crocodile, if you weren’t watching the feed last night, what were you watching?”

“He can’t tell us,” Buggy said, his voice gentle, but pained. “Recordings of Y/N at the asylum. Croc’s poky, lady agent, and the scary, little girl nicked them for us. “

Mihawk’s blood froze in his veins as the memory of her flashed in his mind. His rabbit had looked so beautiful that last day. Beautiful, but wrong.

“Crocodile?”

…

“Can you tell us anything yet, boss? Daddy?”

“Just a kill list,” Crocodile rasped, and Mihawk realized what that tone in his voice was.

Despair.

“I haven’t finished watching yet. Just waiting on the snail. She wouldn't want me to hurt the snail…”

“Okie dokie,” Buggy loudly redirected, the sound of awkward pats coming through. “Star said something to her sister when she was crying last night. I think Asshole Charmer was right, she’s trying to protect Kat from something.”

“What did— “

“She said, ‘I left you,” Buggy rushed before either man finished asking, the strain in his voice ramping up. “Then she lied again. Told Kat she wanted to be there.”

“They wouldn’t let her see her sister,” Crocodile breathed, a distance in his words that had nothing to do with the ocean between them.

“So, we have to find out what Kathryn Sylvad needs protection from,” the swordsman hummed. “When our little rabbit showed us her fangs, she mentioned the Celestial— “

“Kat said Uncle LimpDick can’t sell her anymore though. She’s too old for those creeps.”

“But Y/N didn’t know that until she got to the estate. If that’s why she left, then we can—”

Hope had crept into Crocodile’s voice, and it was almost more painful to hear, especially when it was killed so quickly.

“She could have gotten out with the merman yesterday,” Buggy reminded him, his usual frustration seeming muted. Anger was still present, but it was wrapped up in softer, sadder things while he caught Mihawk up on the prince’s offer. “Star’s acting like a fucking martyr.”

“It’s gotta be the doctor. Sylvad said something about the fucking doctor before she left us,” Crocodile trailed off, leaving them all to sink into the memory of that night. “That’s who she fears.”

“Then that’s who dies first.”

That dusty, little shed became a cage, the monster within him nearly tearing through it at the thought of blood.

“Wait,” his clown commanded.

He obeyed.

“You can’t just run in there and kill everyone on your own now. You have to protect both of them. We need a plan.”

This silence was full of caution, but it held the taste of possibilities.

The swordsman wanted to sever his own tongue for dashing that new hope so soon.

“We can’t force them. If her sister wants to keep that stifled life, then Y/N won’t forgive us for ripping her from it.”

Mihawk sighed, remembering the rage on his darling’s face so clearly. It might be the only face of hers that he’d be worthy of seeing again.

“So, I’m still our last resort. I’ll take her hate for you, Buggy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy groaned. “We know more than we did before, so we just need to keep looking. We’re gonna get her back. You got that, shitheads?”

How strange to recognize the sound of a hug. Buggy’s little hum of surprise, followed by a soft sigh that had to be from Crocodile’s lips, hit Mihawk with a wave of heat. The sensation built up in his throat until he shook it off.

Y/N wouldn't be the only thing he’d lose if he stole her away. The World’s Greatest Swordsman would lose this strange, little home he’d found with this strange, little guild.

“You got it, boss,” Mihawk teased.

“Shut up.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. President,” Crocodile joined in.

The swordsman smiled in that dusty shed, pretending for a moment that this strange, little home he’d found would still be his.

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Giberson never shut the fuck up, so you hadn’t caught most of the scavenger hunt, but soon enough, Uncle Cedrick was announcing the winner.

“There are no rules against hunters helping each other win,” he teased while the Vinsmoke brothers walked toward you. Ichiji was carrying a large wooden heart, a few missing pieces of the puzzle held in the losers’ hands, but he held the most.

Apparently, the younger brothers had given their pieces to the oldest prince, flanking him as they all knelt before you.

“I’m looking forward to showering you with many more gifts,” he smirked, smoothing his fingers over yours when he placed that wooden heart in your lap. “Gifts worthy of a princess.”

Cheesy. Cocky. His brothers’ lecherous stares weren’t helping.

But I might as well enjoy it, you thought, gifting him with a coy smile.

~~~

This opulent room had always been too ridiculously large to be the family game room, especially since you’d only play with your dad, or your sister, never both. Dad always had some work to take care of when Kat asked to play, and Mom never liked board games.

At least someone’s still playing games in here.

“Come here, sugar,” Giberson pulled you along, looking healthier than you’d seen him so far. “You ever played Blackjack?”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

“Hit me.”

“Is that an order, sir?”

Crocodile chuckled, feeling loose for a rare moment while he smirked at the woman across the table. Rain Dinners was as vibrant as ever, a stolen oasis that he planned to grow. The casino pulsed with greed, but a quiet air seemed to fall over the two of them.

“No orders at the table, sweetheart. You know that.”

Fuck.

This woman’s silence always held an itching weight, that little smile making him narrow his eyes. He was the one that had slipped up. No time for that.

Not until his work was done.

“Hm, it looks like a bust for both of us, sir. I hope your orders don’t land us in a similar position,” she taunted in that airy voice of hers, as though her thoughts were merely floating through space, drifting by with no fault of her own. Yet her eyes sparkled.

Crocodile ignored how much he liked it when they did that.

“Have a little faith, Miss All Sunday,” he grinned, the noise of the casino drowned out by her soft chuckle, her haunted eyes filling with a hard edge, a challenge. “Don’t you trust me? We’re gonna build a better world together.”

Her soft chuckle turned to outright laughter, the pretty sound bringing more eyes to their elevated table. That beautiful face tilted back, and the brim of her white hat shifted enough to let the glittering lights touch her skin.

He paused to watch her, knowing that he was distracted. Knowing that she was an agent, that he couldn’t risk losing his balance until he’d met his goal.

This girl is nothing but an asset. That’s all anyone is until I’m done.

“Come, Crocodile, you and I both know that trust can be a fatal mistake. I know you didn’t bring me here for false promises, and I would leave if I thought you’d become such a sentimental fool.”

Soft hands sprouted from the table before him, lighting his cigar, and holding it to his lips while he gave a few gentle puffs. Those taunting eyes never strayed from his.

“You know me too well,” he laughed, taking a larger sip of scotch than he’d meant to. This asset of his had many uses, and interesting company was becoming too much of a favorite. “What kind of world do you wanna build when we get there?”

The way she stared at him… It was as though she was right there, seeing deep into the core of him, yet somehow distant. No matter how much time she spent by his side, they were always light years apart.

“Are you feeling sentimental, boss?”

“Not at all,” Crocodile snorted before downing the rest of his drink. He motioned for another round but couldn’t shake off the sticky feeling of her knowing gaze.

She’s right. What the fuck am I doing? Can’t think like this. Not yet.

Nico Robin smirked while her many hands gathered the cards, dealing a fresh game. Crocodile found himself feeling proud of her practiced distance, but had to fight harder than he should have to keep from tugging at it.

Trust is worthless in a world like this.

“Well, boss?”

“Hit me.”

So, I’ll make a better world.

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Everything was shining. Unlike most casinos, the shine in your family’s estate wasn’t just for show.

It was another world. The glamor, the music, and the liquor seemed to hypnotize the crowd. Time was a commodity here, seconds falling away like the chips on the table.

You might have been drawn in if you hadn’t been squeezed into this slinky, sequined dress. Viridian green sparkled under the lights, and it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you’d thought it would be. Still fucking distracting though.

I wonder what his casino was like. Would he have liked this dress? He did prefer scales over—

Stop.

You almost asked why Giberson had foregone his private date for this public display but decided not to risk giving him the opening to take you somewhere else. He dragged a velvet covered stool close beside him before wrapping his frail arm around your shoulders, pulling you as close to his side as possible.

Your smile stayed pretty under the golden lights, even as the sounds of the small casino bombarded you. All the hunters, and more guests than you’d seen here before, watched your every move when they weren’t losing berry.

“What’d ya say, darlin,” he winked, nodding toward the cards on the table. “Should I risk it?”

At least there’s something for me to focus on.

“Hit me,” he declared when you nodded, whistling and jostling you when he hit twenty one. “I knew I had a good feeling about you.”

“Is this why you’re here, Gibby? I’m sure you realize that my husband won’t need to gamble to be swimming in berry.”

Those words should not have left your lips. You didn’t need the nearest cam-snail’s drooping eyes to tell you that, but you couldn’t take it back. Playing up the flirtation was all you could think of to salvage it.

The old man raised a brow at you, chuckling at your fluttering lashes.

“You are a sweet, devilish thing, aren’t you, dear?”

Your denial died on your tongue when your eyes got caught across the room, your red-haired prey staring hard at the hand Giberson had brought to your chin.

This old man deserved your gratitude for tilting your face away from those soft, brown eyes.

“I am many things, Gibby,” you purred. “And I am sure that you should stand.”

“I’ve gotta listen to my Lady Luck,” he laughed, wiggling your shoulders to show you off to the leeches at the table.

“Isn’t that cheating,” one of them mumbled, earning a sickly, sweet smile from your lips.

“All is fair in love and war,” you teased, tapping the felt-covered table with one of Giberson’s many chips. “Besides, card counters have to watch a game for longer than I’ve been at the table. It was just a lucky guess.”

Oh, how you ached to smash that entitled asshole’s face onto the shining table.

“You’re one to talk, Linus,” Giberson leaned around you to smirk at the man. The scent of liquor on his breath hit you like a train. “I believe you’re on mistress number three, aren’t you? Or what should we call this newest one, a boy toy? I suppose if Annie knows, then it’s not cheating, but either way, I’m sure she knows now.”

Linus’ face went from annoyance to horror impressively fast when he glanced at the very not-droopy snail on the table, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing.

The man snarled, barely shifting toward you before Uncle’s security guards snatched him away.

“Poor Linus,” you sighed while you shook your head. The satisfaction that warmed your skin only proved your self-hating thoughts, but it was more entertaining than being empty.

Everyone here is a leech. Gorging on my blood and humiliation, eating me alive so they can feel more alive for a while. Fuck them all.

“Don’t worry about him,” your date pulled you back toward the game, “Annie’s been sleeping with his mother since their wedding night, so I’m sure she won’t be too broken up over it.”

You laughed enough that when he bought a bottle and poured you both a shot, you drank the burning whiskey.

After he drank his first, of course.

Then you won him lots of berry and giggled while he whispered secrets about all those shining guests in your ear.

Maybe this old man isn’t so boring after all.

Laughing, and winning, and numbing it all down felt so good. If only you could rid yourself of those stupid, brown eyes that stuck to you more than the old man’s weak hand on your sequined thigh.

“Do you know anything about— “

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Giberson hummed, filling your glass again. He nodded toward the red-haired pirate in the corner before shaking his head. “Afraid I can’t talk about the competition. I’d like to survive long enough to see the end of this delightful game.”

~~~

The corridors were endless. You’d traveled them so many times as a kid, but never quite like this.

Never drunk, in stupid, pointy heels that got caught in the plush carpet, while annoying servants tried to grab your elbows every time you swayed.

It was fine.

It was stupid.

But you weren’t even mad at yourself for being so reckless. Apathy could save or ruin you in a place like this.

All you wanted was to feel nothing. There were many kinds of numb to find, but this particular buzz was wearing off too fast.

You had kept up your smile, and the bells had rung before you lost your mind to liquor. Yet now that the wall of eyes wasn’t on you, that liquor felt thick in your veins, and you needed to scream.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Sylvad, but— “

“I’ll take it from here. We wouldn’t want any more accidents now, would we, niece?”

You blinked, and the staff had already scurried away, leaving you alone with him.

“My little smarty,” Uncle Cedrick teased, digging his fingers into your arm while he guided you toward your suite. “Finally contributing to the family, after all these years. You almost had me believing that you’d like to marry that old bastard.”

“It’s too early to tell.”

Damn it…

A different kind of numb pulled you down while your gaze trailed down his face.

His jaw is moving a lot. It’s okay. No, not the lips. Jaw. Eyes are too much. Can’t look up. Just down. Can’t look away.

Fuck, I’m dizzy.

“He was never in the running anyway. The nuisance learned about the hunt and asked to join, and I couldn’t risk insulting the man.”

All the words were hitting your wobbly brain, a headache building behind your brow until you gasped at his sudden touch. Your uncle gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze in the darkened hallway.

“You’re going to send the old man away tomorrow, and the fishman the day after that. You may be a selfish brat, but you’re still a Sylvad. It wouldn’t do to let you get stuffed full of expired seed, or guppies, now, would it?”

His eyes flared with satisfaction when you couldn’t hide the horror and disgust that twisted your features. You were trapped, gulping down your bile while he leaned over you, gripping tighter.

“Keep up the good work, niece,” Uncle hummed while he tilted you toward your door. “Now go wash up. Whiskey isn’t a flattering scent on a blushing bride.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

There was no point in fixing the conference room. Any replacement furniture would have been shattered the second he saw those tear-filled eyes on the screen.

A makeshift door had been propped up for privacy, although there was no one but Buggy within range of Crocodile’s rage.

That pathetic, useless rage that left the scarred man sitting on the floor in a pile of splinters and sand again, fighting not to drink. Not yet, at least.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Is it ready,” Crocodile rasped, not ready for the answer.

“I believe so, sir,” Zala reported, her lovely voice too somber to be soothing. “The next cam-snail’s date is a bit smudged, so I’m not certain the timing is right. We’re trying to send them in order— “

“Just send it.”

…

“Agent?”

“Of course, sir,” the deadly woman breathed, strangely soft through the line. “Do you have orders for us when we arrive? We still have over a week, but it could be two days less if we— “

“Await your orders,” Crocodile growled, more at his own powerlessness than her questioning.

“Of course,” Zala conceded, sharing her next words in a rush before ending the call. “We’ll get her back, sir. I won’t fail again.”

~~~

For a cruel moment, Crocodile’s breath caught in hope. His sweet girl looked better.

He should have known better.

‘How are you feeling today, Y/N?’

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

‘I’m feeling well, thank you, doctor,’ she hummed softly, keeping her eyes low, although the doctor was still offscreen. A nurse guided her to sit, no restraints holding her to the table this time.

‘Are you ready to begin?’

‘Yes, doctor.’

His girl was empty. Poised and polite with nothing inside.

They made a doll out of her.

‘Just breathe, Y/N,’ Dr. Vorsan instructed, his slippery voice making Crocodile’s fingers twitch. ‘The snail won’t hurt you, and you aren’t going to hurt it.’

‘Of course, I won’t–’

‘Soft hands, Y/N,’ he warned while she unclenched her jaw and fists.

A transponder snail was placed on the table before her, and her eyes went slow and droopy while she stared at it.

‘We discussed this, Y/N.’ The doctor clicked his tongue while the nurse reached for the snail. Y/N shook herself but stopped before her hand got too close to the creature.

Her eyes were wide now, her panicked breaths loud enough for him to hear all these years later.

‘I’m sorry, please,’ Y/N strained, going empty again while she pleaded. ‘I’m okay. I want to call my sister.’

‘Are you sure you’re ready,’ Vorsan needled. That voice was so perfectly kind, yet violent. It was a syringe that promised healing, but forced too much, poisoning with what seemed like a cure. ‘Take your time, Y/N. If you push yourself too far, you might have another episode, and I know you don’t want to put your family through that. You don’t want to hurt–’

‘I want to be well, doctor.’

Wrong. So, fucking wrong.

‘Please, let me try again,’ Y/N begged, her sweet voice placating the monster out of view. ‘I’ll breathe and go slow. I want to get better.’

The nurse brought the snail back, and Crocodile couldn’t tell how much time passed while she stared at it. Her eyes were present, yet he could see the strain, her almost-smile shaking a bit.

“What the fuck?”

The fucking snail had started ringing, and Y/N’s scream made him choke. She struggled to swallow it down, rocking in her seat until the nurse reached out to take it. She took in a breath when she reached out instead to answer, that sickening smile on her face.

‘Hey, smarty.’

Crocodile’s hook dug deep lines along the floor.

‘I heard you were practicing with the snail today, so I thought I’d help out. We all want you back home, safe and sound. Although, I suppose it’s not your safety we should be worrying about.’

If not for the slow shine of unspilled tears that grew in her eyes, Crocodile would have thought the recording had paused. She was frozen, until she flinched at his next words.

‘I should probably check on little Kathryn. I told them not to sail this close to Aqua Laguna, but you know how stubborn–’

‘You’re lying,’ she screamed, spittle flying toward the snail before nurses appeared to restrain her. ‘Let me talk to my sister!’

‘Oh dear, you don’t sound very well, niece. I hope–’

‘Fuck you! Where’s Kat? Let me see my– Get your fucking hands off of me! I’m gonna kill…’

Cedrick Sylvad’s laughter creeped through the air, the transponder snail carrying that vile sound through space and time.

Y/N had gone still, letting the nurses entangle their arms with hers, trapping her between them while they called nonsensical orders to each other in bland voices.

She didn’t cry.

Didn’t apologize.

Didn’t fight.

She looked like she’d been defeated, and Sylvad’s gloating laughter proved the point.

‘I hope you get well soon, niece,” her uncle taunted. ‘I’ll tell your sister you’re not ready yet, once she gets back. Hopefully she makes it before the storm hits.’

Crocodile’s sweet girl slumped, her body going limp while so many others held her up. Cedrick Sylvad’s laughter ripped through the air until she was carted away, and the wall went dark.

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

The scene above was from Crocodile’s POV as he watched another recording of Y/N at the asylum. During this recording, Crocodile noticed that the reader appeared to be “better.” However, the prodding voice of Dr. Vorsan, and the reveal of a transponder snail showed that the reader was struggling to maintain her “doll-like” emptiness. The reader expressed a desire to speak with her sister, and was cooperating with the doctor, although he scolded her and reminded her of the potential violence she may cause. The reader remained calm and requested to try speaking with the snail again. The snail rang unexpectedly, and her uncle began to speak through it, causing the reader to become afraid, then react violently when Cedrick stated that her sister was currently sailing close to the time of the Aqua Laguna storm. The reader began to yell and threaten violence, until she looked defeated while her uncle laughed. The reader went limp while nurses restrained her and carried her away before the recording ended.

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Leave her alone, Uncle,” Kat seethed, charging into the hall to pull you from his grasp.

“I’m just making sure she gets home safe,” he teased, clicking his tongue before releasing you. “Looks like big sis needs your help tonight. Aren’t you relieved that you won’t have to be her babysitter for much longer?”

“Fuck you— “

“It’s alright, Kitty,” you smiled, fighting your shaking muscles, and the nausea that flooded your body. “You got any snacks in your suite?”

“Ta-ta,” Uncle Cedrick smirked, thankfully walking away.

Leaving you with her.

Fuck. I’m making her take care of me again. Selfish. Piece of shit. Stop.

“What kind of snacks do you want,” Kat frowned. Her eyes were sharp against your swaying form, but you held up your smile for her.

“Salty. Crunchy.”

“Alright, drunky,” she rolled her eyes, “will you drink some fucking water first?”

~~~

Gods, it’s bright. Smile. Don’t forget to smile.

“Are you feeling well, niece?”

Uncle Cedrick beamed down at you, guiding you to the fallen tree in the courtyard, where the applause that greeted you made you want to chop your fucking ears off. The ungodly amount of coffee you’d inhaled during the breakfast with Giberson had been for naught, and you couldn’t recall any of the long winded stories he’d trampled you with.

There’d be no more of his stories for you after this.

“Good afternoon, fine friends and hunters,” he addressed the crowd, and the suitors lined up along the carved bench. His practiced movements spread large across the side of the manor for all to see. You caught him glancing at his image on the projector screen enough times that you almost laughed.

It probably would have hurt to laugh right now.

“Before today’s hunt begins, I’m afraid that one of our contestants has missed the mark.”

Uncle pulled an arrow from the quiver at his back. He pressed the point of it to your chest, making the leeches gasp with mock fear or delight before he broke it in half.

“Go on, dear niece,” he ordered, pressing the splintered wood into your hand. “Who failed to pierce your heart?”

Don’t let it in. Nothing matters. Just her.

Fading into yourself, you put on a show, avoiding the sight of your simpering smile on the wall. Tittering noises filled the air while the wooden platform moved you from suitor to suitor, and you could hear the vultures calling out their last-minute bets.

You put on a good show, but eyes were too much. An inch below their left eye. That’s where you’d look while you paused.

No favorites. No least favorites.

The moving platform wasn’t helping your nausea, or it might have been the scent of the Emperor whose crooked smile was almost as abhorrent to look at as his soft eyes.

The painfully slow display finally came to a halt, the stench of whiskey still too fresh in your mind.

The old man hadn’t been that bad though.

“I’m sorry, Gibby. Your arrow didn’t pierce my heart.”

He took the broken arrow, before kissing your forehead, his mustache scratching along your skin.

“Not to worry, my dear,” Giberson soothed, humming at the noises of the winners and losers in the crowd. From the sound of it, he’d been an underdog in the race anyway. “I feel lucky just to be here at all. Thank you for the lovely company.”

You needed to sit down.

You had to keep smiling.

“Of course, Gibby,” your uncle shmoozed, gripping Giberson by the shoulder. He appeared to be speaking to the failed hunter, but his voice was too clear, his words too pointed.

Another part of the show.

“You may not be in the running to be our family, but you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t a friend of the Sylvad’s,” Uncle Cedrick glowed as the leeches practically moaned at the implication. Everyone wanted to be in his world. “You are more than welcome to stay for the festivities as a guest, so long as you don’t act like a sore loser and ruin the fun, of course.”

The joviality in the air was too full of greed. Your future was never going to be yours, but you hadn't expected him to let so many others join in his game.

This game that never fucking stopped.

“Our lovely doe has requested a show of love for today’s hunt,” he took your hand and spun you for the crowd, grabbing you by the waist to keep you from tripping over yourself. “Run along, hunters. In the woods you’ll find materials of all sorts, but you’re welcome to use your own. Create something to show how you’ll care for your dear wife once you catch her. Care to give them any tips, Y/N?”

Fuck you.

“The man I love will make me smile.”

Uncle Cedrick caught his frown before it fully formed, but your tiny rebellion went cold when his eyes flicked to the locket you were fidgeting with.

“You heard the doe, hunters,” he ordered, studying your shaky hands that you dropped to your sides too fast. “Make your prey smile before you pierce her heart.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

He shouldn’t have been dropping his guard like this, but something about this room, this ridiculous, green couch, and that sweet girl’s flustered face, had Sir Crocodile fighting off a smile.

“But… I’ve still got work to do, and they— “

“Is my sweet girl worried about other men right now,” he threatened, patting the cushion beside him while he tried to keep his balance.

The clown was off preparing for that gods awful show they’d have to sit through at the party, while the swordsman ran through security. Since Crocodile had already sent agents out to hunt for party favors, he had a free moment, and he chose to spend it taunting their numbers girl.

She looked so pretty with that flash of fear in her eyes.

Especially when she gave in so quickly.

“N-no, I…”

“You’ve been working so hard. I can help you relax. Wanna take a break, sweetheart?”

Y/N bit her lip softly, and Crocodile nearly launched himself at her. Patience wasn’t one of his virtues, but luckily his numbers girl got to her feet.

“Not so fast, darlin,” he teased while she yelped in his grasp, moving through sand to carry her before she could take a step with her bare feet.

“Fuck!”

She looked so cute when he tossed her onto his desk. Y/N was shaking so much that he almost stopped, his fingers clenching against the wooden desk while he took a final puff of his cigar. The feel of smoke on his tongue only made him crave her more.

“Well, sweetheart, you’re not scared to be alone with me, are— “

“I want you, daddy,” Y/N vowed, her voice like some heavenly song, guiding him toward things he didn’t deserve. She sat up, reaching, clinging to him until he chuckled and pushed her soft fingers away. She’d tugged at his silk scarf, and he let her keep the purple fabric when he shoved her back onto the desk.

“Are you gonna be a good girl, and relax for me,” he taunted. Crocodile stamped out his cigar before kneeling beside his desk, fighting his smile again at every desperate noise she made while he set her legs up on his shoulders. She nodded fast while he tore through her cheap panties with his hook, and her scent finally did him in.

This ex-warlord, this wicked pirate, this bad man… was smiling. Smiling from pleasure and peace instead of cruelty and greed.

Sir Crocodile caught his smile as he pressed it against that sweet, swollen flesh, loving the way she tore at his hair. Her fingers went rough, then weak, again and again, as though she couldn’t help her need, but feared his reaction.

“Let go, sweetheart. Let Daddy have it all,” he purred before shoving his tongue so deep. He moaned while he drank at her pleasure, proud of how she took what she needed, pulling his hair at the roots while she fell apart.

“You’re doing so well,” Crocodile praised, fighting everything in him not to claim this sweet girl for himself, his own little dream.

“Please, daddy.”

“My little girl’s so hungry,” he laughed while his fingers teased along all the wetness she spread before him. “You can have everything you want.”

Y/N had pushed onto her elbows to meet his eyes, but fell back, her body arching when he shoved two fingers into her pretty cunt. Her moans were so fucking precious that the ex-warlord’s mind went blank. Nothing but her.

“It’s still work hours, sugar. Try to keep it down.”

Fuck, she was gorgeous when her eyes rolled back, eagerly letting him shove that purple silk into her mouth. She was already crying when he undid his slacks, freeing himself to tease along that needy flesh.

Crocodile missed, pouring lube down the side of the desk before covering his leaking cock. She was too good of a girl for him to rush this, but the feel of his own lubed hand was nearly enough while he watched her begging beneath him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he guided her while he held himself back. “You can take it, can’t you?”

He tried to be gentle, but Y/N still cried and screamed, so he fucked himself into her until his scarf fell from her lips.

“It’s too— feels too good— fuck!!”

She spoke the truth until he shoved the silk back into her mouth. It felt too fucking good to fill her up, to feel her body stretching and fighting to hold him. So soft, so wet, so fucking tight around his cock with every thrust.

But she could take him. She could take all of him, and she looked beautifully wrecked while she did, that silk scarf dark with spit now when he tugged it from her lips again.

“Where does my sweet girl— “

“Inside me, daddy,” Y/N cried out before her body milked his again, eyes going white while she came. “Come inside me, please!”

“Fuck, you take me so well, baby girl. Mm— so fucking perfect…”

Crocodile held her down, pressing his palm against her chest. He hadn’t realized that his hook had been tracing along her side until he started filling her, but she looked like she was enjoying it, so he didn’t bother to stop.

She looked like she was enjoying getting fucked by a monster.

She looked so sweet when he met her eyes, pulling out slowly to keep from causing more harm.

“Daddy…”

“Hey, sweet girl,” he hummed while he kissed her neck. Her squirms were enough, and he felt his scarred face smiling against her skin once more. “How— “

“You could have just said you wanted her to yourself for a while,” the swordsman taunted from the doorway that had opened too quietly.

Or maybe Crocodile had let himself get too distracted.

“I thought you didn’t like liars,” Mihawk smirked, moving close enough to snag the spit-soaked scarf from the desk.

“We got some work done,” Crocodile told the truth, although it felt like a lie when he looked down at her. “My sweet girl just needed a break.”

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

Their faces were easy to match up with the voices he’d planned to end while he listened in that dusty shed. This drab, little hole had been shined up so brightly, almost passing for a real casino, but Mihawk knew it could still use a fresh coat of red paint.

“I suppose that only imbeciles would fail to recognize me when I walk through the door. I had assumed that was what all of you were, given your foolish choice in hobbies.”

“Hawkeye— Mr. Mihawk, sir, please,” the owner of the stale, little hall beckoned him toward the sticky, corner booth, “you’re an honored guest! Please, relax, and let us show you how we party in Majiastuka.”

The slim possibility of those words swaying the ex-warlord burned away when faraway voices filled the air.

‘You’re our little princess now.’

Their deaths would come later. For now, Mihawk kept his gaze away from the projector screen, and the flustered face of his little rabbit.

“What a delightful invitation,” the world’s greatest swordsman sneered, drawing his black blade to hover over the filthy floorboards. “Unfortunately, I have already had my fill of your wretched squeals. Unless you can tell me how to reach Miss Sylvad, your worthless time on this planet is over.”

“Fuck thi— “

A coward off to the side stumbled while he cursed, fleeing toward the door. Mihawk didn’t even need to shift his eyes in that direction; Yoru simply flicked across the floor, the blade smacking into a chair that cracked the man’s neck when it hit.

Every movement, every breath was precise.

A predator, and its prey.

“Hey man, I’m sorry, okay,” the pathetic kingpin begged while the ex-warlord stalked closer. “How can I help? Anything, please!”

“Such a well-mannered beast,” Mihawk growled while he dug his nails into the man’s jaw. “I’m taking your special snail, and I shall take your life if you don’t tell me where the fuck you got it from.”

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

This might be the worst idea you’d ever had.

“It’s a…”

“Graham cracker house. They’re usually gingerbread, but no one likes to eat that shit.”

Cracker beamed down at you, so proud of the sloppy, edible house that he’d dropped onto your lap.

“That’s you,” he pointed toward the misshapen figure by the front door. “I know that you’re a good girl that wants to help your family. I’ll help you be happy and safe, and you’ll help our family grow.”

Oh.

The misshapen clump finally took shape in your mind; that fucked up cracker was meant to be you.

Barefoot and pregnant.

This is super fucking fun.

“Thank you, Cracker. It’s lovely.”

“It’s trash,” Cracker corrected with that menacing grin, and you almost yelped when he touched your face. You had to meet his eyes, and that basic, human intimacy, coupled with the scent of that sugary house, nearly had you spilling your disgust onto the floor.

Nausea had you in a chokehold, but that didn’t stop your smile.

This ridiculous man leaned down, and the sparks at the ends of his hair were too fucking close to your face when he purred in your ear.

“You’re the only lovely thing I see.”

~~~

How strange that the sight of such a light and precious thing could drag you down so far.

In the place of a pearl, the shell opened to show a long-lasting bubble. The treasure had become a reminder of your selfishness and privilege, yet your heart still ached at the sight.

Precious trees had helped create this little magic. Sabaody should have been treasured, protected.

Instead, it was hell: a humiliating torture for people that didn’t look like you.

“It’s beautiful, Prince Fukaboshi,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

“It is nowhere near as beautiful as your selfless heart.”

Smiling was harder when you had to swallow the burning bile on the back of your tongue.

~~~

“This is very nice,” you lied.

“It’s a poor rendition,” your prey laughed at his ugly drawing of what looked like a pile of fingers until you deciphered the shapes. “Starfish cling to their world, holding tight to their home… I could have stolen it for you, but it’s not right to take a star from where it belongs.”

“So, you left my star all alone,” you managed to pout; you were a selfish, spoiled, rich girl.

Starfish were apparently too much for you to handle.

~~~

“What do ya think, numbers girl?”

That deep voice made you shiver, shaking you out of your fog, but into the chaos of old desire.

You knew you should hate him. You should be disgusted by his mere presence here, by all the details that would make your eyebrows raise if you heard them about a similar relationship.

But you were too far gone to give a fuck.

Mr. Iceburg was smiling at you. He was reaching out to rest his hand on yours before offering a gift he’d made with those same, lovely hands. The rough skin scraping against yours seemed to send you back in time, a teenage craving, still unfulfilled.

“There wasn’t enough time, but I hope you like it,” Iceburg hummed when he placed a small, carved ship in your palm. The rough wood smelled incredible, and it was beautiful, rough as it was.

All the details were vague, but your thumb traced across the redwood he’d carved onto the main sail.

It wasn’t just his looks that had stolen your heart when you were younger. Mr. Iceburg had an air of kindness and wonderment about him that reminded you what those feelings could be like.

Were you too far gone to feel that light?

Was he too much of a leech for it to be real?

Who fucking cares? It’s Mr. Iceburg.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“So, you left my star all alone?”

Y/N’s pouting lips were too much; Shanks was horrified by her ability to lie with every part of her.

“Well, I…”

That fallen star smiled while the bells called him away, and she chose another man, yet again.

~~~

The Great Red-Haired Shanks was fucking useless.

He had fucked up so completely that his every step to fix things put miles and miles between them.

And he couldn’t fucking talk about it.

The estate was literally crawling with snails, so Shanks couldn’t risk speaking openly to his first mate. He couldn’t relax for a second with how hyper aware he’d become of the low hum of their presence.

How the fuck does she live like this?

Throughout the pain and hardships of his own life, this Emperor of the Sea had carried something with him that he was lacking here, and the discomfort of its loss felt like another phantom pain, an unreachable itch.

Shanks was raised as a pirate.

He was raised to be free.

No one was free on this wretched island, except for the tyrant that toyed with them all.

Cedrick Sylvad hadn’t joined the group that flocked to his little casino for a second night. He didn’t need the cash.

The red-haired pirate followed the leeches and did his best to shove his frustrations aside while he fought for her.

“Still here, huh?”

“Why would I leave,” Giberson breathed noxious fumes into his face while he leaned over his cards. “This game’s only just begun.”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Kat’s face pulled you into the moment, her quivering lips failing to hold back her disparaging smile.

You couldn’t blame her.

“That’s a really nice cape,” she snorted, falling into laughter.

“I thought you wanted me to marry a Vinsmoke.” Your words were strained, although annoyance or laughter could have been the cause.

“Totally,” she managed to deadpan. “Definitely the number one choice.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

It was so good to see her cackle, even if you had to wear this poofy, frilly, fire-engine red gown to make it happen.

The cape wasn’t nearly as bad as the embroidered “ones” along the hems.

“I want you to marry one of them if…”

“Spit it out,” you ordered, holding in your own laughs while Kat fell apart.

“If they’re your number one choice,” she squeaked again while she steadied herself with a hand on her thigh.

You couldn’t blame her. Not with the state your hair was in.

~~~

“Tonight, we have lifted one of our rules for the sake of fairness to our esteemed hunters,” Uncle charmed the crowd, his fingers resting on the back of your neck.

He looked down at you with that practiced mask of a doting uncle while he gripped your skin like you were an unruly animal that he had to control.

“My dear niece must remain within the borders of the island, but the sky’s the limit now.”

He stepped away with a smirk, and you were too drained from smiling to care what he meant. It was always a game at your expense. You were just glad that he wasn’t touching you anymore.

Resisting the urge to scratch his eyes out like the unruly animal you were took a lot of energy, and you were going to need it tonight.

The vultures were practically squealing while Prince Ichiji walked up the path, flanked on either side by his brothers. The ruffles on their shirts looked natural on them, and their capes just reminded you that they were royalty, even if they descended from vicious conquerors who claimed that status. From all you’d gathered, these current Vinsmokes seem to carry that violent legacy.

Except for when they looked at you.

Ichiji held out the longest, but soon the three of them were staring at you like hungry puppies. Niji and Yonji knelt at your sides to kiss your hands, thoroughly. Ichiji leaned down, the swoops in his red hair casting distracting shadows across his face beneath the lanterns.

“Everyone’s fighting to take home the lovely prize,” he breathed against your ear before he pulled back to meet your eyes. “But they can’t have you.”

“Oh,” you tried to tease, but the kisses still peppering your hands and fingers were too distracting. “Why is that?”

The three of them laughed, and you would have fallen if they hadn’t gripped your hands in time. The three princes had all touched their belts, and the colorful raid suits they were so famous for spread over them instantly, to roaring applause. You hadn’t had time to catch your breath before Ichiji lifted you into his arms.

“You’re our little princess now.”

Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t scream.

“Don’t be scared, pretty,” he comforted, though his pleased voice didn’t stop the world from disappearing beneath you.

“Yeah, I’ll catch you if he drops you,” Yonji flew close to your cheek.

“I won’t drop her.”

How does their hair stay like that in the wind, you thought, giggling to yourself while you watched the trees beneath you.

“Can I touch the top of a tree?”

“You can touch anything you– ”

“Back off, Niji,” Ichiji growled at his blue haired brother that had flown too close this time before returning to that simpering voice. “Of course, princess. We can find every tree on the island, if you like.”

“Just one is lovely, thank you.”

Touching the top of a redwood tree had never crossed your mind, but the feel of it against your fingers gave you a moment of sweetness at the thought of telling your dad about it. He would be so excited, and he’d want to know every detail, until you both were scribbling on notepads to calculate how long it would take to touch every tree on the island.

It was stupid. How could you stay numb when you kept reminding yourself of pain, or of something far crueler than that?

Happiness and love would tear you apart.

~~~

If you weren’t out of breath, you might have giggled again at how well the scene fit with your last thought.

Another clearing on another stolen hill had come into view, during one of the brief glances you’d sent toward the ground. That ground was coming too close, too fast, but the scent hit you before your feet touched the ground.

Someone had planted a circular wall of roses that was taller than you’d thought possible for the flower. You had learned that the realm of possibility was vaster than you could imagine. What were some huge rose bushes compared to everything else in your world?

Ichiji set you down beside a gorgeous table of dark wood, with large, cushioned chairs in that matching rose-red.

He poured champagne, toasting to your beauty while you waited for him to sip first.

“Are you nervous,” the red head asked, the hint of laughter in his tone. “Don’t worry, princess, you can relax here. I made sure we’d have plenty of privacy.”

“Yeah,” Yonji called while he flew down into the tower of roses. “No one’s getting in here without catching some thorns.”

“We finished the rounds,” Niji reported. He stayed floating toward the top, lazily bouncing something in his hand. “This is the only snail left in a mile radius. Now you two can have some alone time.

“DON’T HURT IT! Please… don’t…”

Niji paused with his arm pulled back, stopping before throwing the transponder snail, cocking his head as he looked down at you.

“Don’t be so cruel, brother,” Ichiji purred beside you.

Breathe. Just breathe.

“Please, don’t hurt it,” you tried to keep your voice from shaking. It was already hoarse from that scream. “I… like snails.”

“So sweet,” Yonji swooned. He flew close, with Niji and the poor snail following behind him. “You should see our— “

“It’s my turn, brothers,” the eldest prince reminded them.

Yonji kissed your cheek before he flew away, but Niji grabbed your wrist. He placed the snail in the center of your palm before tracing his fingers down the side of your face.

“Such a pretty princess,” he hummed, “I’ll make sure this thing is safe for you. We can even let some watch our date if you— “

“This is my date, Niji.”

“Right. Have fun, you two.”

Thankfully, the blue-haired brother grabbed the snail before he flew away, but another set of eyes stayed glued to your skin.

“Sorry about that, beautiful. Let’s eat, I wanna know about all the other sweet things you like.”

Still cheesy. Still cocky.

Yet somehow his guiding hand on you lower back, and his hungry eyes reminded you of another sort of numb.

Nothing matters, so I might as well enjoy this.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

“Feel good, star,” Crocodile’s little clown mumbled in his sleep, the stench of liquor on Buggy’s breath rivaling his own.

“Hey,” he started, wanting to carry Buggy to bed instead of leaving him alone on that green couch. “Come on— “

“Just feel good, baby,” his clown whined softly, the sadness in his voice tearing at the scarred man even more tonight.

“Shh, Buggy. It’s gonna be okay.”

He hoped he wasn’t lying.

“I won’t tell, star. I know it was a— What the fuck?”

“It’s just me, little clown. Let’s go to bed,” he offered his hand. Buggy shook himself but followed him down the empty corridor to that empty bed. “Bad dreams again?”

“No— I mean, just the same bullshit,” Buggy coughed while his fingers tapped along his thigh. “Ha, I really thought the booze would help… What about you?”

Crocodile pulled the man close, and kissed that tangled, blue hair as he closed his eyes against this shitty world.

“We’re gonna get her back,” he vowed ignoring the scent of lies in the air. There had never been room for trust in this world, but Crocodile realized he didn’t care if his little lovers were lying to him. He just needed them back.

He needed to make a better world for them.

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: "I've still been disappearing from the world," is how I started my last author's note from Chapter 34. So much has changed in my life.

Personal Vent below! Mostly vague, but trigger warning for toxic, demanding work environments, and their affect on physical and mental health. Mention of bipolar and adhd.

PLEASE DON'T READ THIS unless you really want to, and have the space for it! I would rather you scroll past than to take on any of my stress.

I am okay, and I want Numbers Game to be a place for us to rest and enjoy some fictional chaos instead. This will be the last time I'll discuss this on a Numbers Game post, but I felt I had to share how much I've wanted to be here with y'all. Any future updates will be posted separately on my lynna's health updates tag.

I am free from the situation that was wrecking my physical, mental, and financial health for the past five years. That chaos sent me into an episode that landed me on medical leave last year. But that fucked up time is when I started writing, and joined this wonderful community. I wouldn't have made it though the past year without y'all. I was in full on crisis mode, and it had all come to a head over these past few months. Then I got out. I was so fucking excited to tell y'all about the new changes in my life, but I was overwhelmed with everything that I had to do to get out and prepare. Plus, my fucking thumb stopped working because I was typing the first draft of this chapter on my phone since I had no time to sit down and write, and I had to rest it for the new job that seemed perfect for me. I hope that it'll get better soon, but I seem to have jumped out of the frying pan, and into the fire. I am okay. I am safe. I am just tired as fuck, and needing to set boundaries with a new company that is even more demanding than the last. At least they are actually paying me on time, and it's less physically demanding, (unless you count a lifelong insomniac adjusting to waking up at 6am and getting home at 6pm, five days a week 🥴). The main reason I was excited for this job, besides relieving the crisis shit I was going though, was that it would have a regular schedule; I'd be able to focus on what I really want to do. Sorry it took me so long to catch my breath, but I'm fucking back, y'all. I'm not letting another company drain my soul away. I'm not working off the clock any more.

I've got smut to write 🥰📝🔥

With so much love,

~ Lynna 💜✨

Part 36

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

61 notes · View notes

awkward-tension-art · 6 months ago

Text

Darkness on Umbara Chp.9 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 8. Chapter 10.

Plans and Arguments

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Mentions of breakdowns, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI

“Those missiles have a 100 megaton yield!”

Fives was exasperated at the new plan Krell had thrown at Rex, “We won’t even make it to the delta!”

“What can I do?” The captain met the ARC troopers eyes steadily, “I’ve tried to reason with him. Those are the orders.”

March on the capital despite the massive missiles that rained from the sky. Fucking brilliant.

Jesse sighed, “Great, another suicide mission.” he continued to inspect the console, typing on the screen, “The capital is too well armed.”

“Why does it seem like he has it out for clones?” Tup chimed in from where he continued to study the mechanics of the starships.

“Are we sure Krell isn’t, you know, fucking insane?” You mumbled, continuing to look at the data of the anomaly you saw earlier.

Dogma scoffed, “I think you're all overreacting,” He was steadfast in his belief in the general, “Obviously General Krell knows what he's doing. do you really think he doesn't care if he loses men?”

Yes. you nearly responded, but opted to remain quiet.

Jesse crossed his arms, “I’m not saying that,” He kept his voice steady, doing well at remaining calm, “But I do think his desire for victory has blinded him to the fact that there are lives at stake.”

You nodded, “Field doctors keep in contact with one another, and several doctors I knew have been killed under his command, not to mention the number of troopers,” Your hands were still as you focused on the conversation, “I’ve never seen such a high number of casualties from a single general.”

“He’s out of control!” Fives snapped, “He is not acting like the other jedi. He has no respect for us.”

I don’t think he has respect for anyone but himself. You thought bitterly.

Rex stepped forward, trying to calm the ARC troopers ire, “Listen, I don’t agree with him either, but I don’t have a better plan.”

“What about using these starfighters to destroy the supply ship?” Fives continued, motioning to the ships that were in different stages of maintenance.

“Our fleet has been trying, The Umbarans have it as protected as the capital.” The 501st captain rubbed his temple, clearly reaching his own limit.

“But we've got their access codes and their own hardware,” Fives stepped up next to Jesse, looking confident.

Rex, on the other hand, looked more surprised and hopeful, “You were able to crack it?”

“Mhm!” the ARC trooper gave a friendly punch to Jesse’s shoulder, earning a smile and a head shake from the other trooper, “We can sneak right past their blockade, get to where our ships can’t.” He clasped his hands in front of him, as if begging.

The captain looked down and rubbed his chin, he remained silent, mentally planning and strategizing with this new information.

Fives’ continued, as if trying to convince him, “If we take out that supply ship, then we cut off arms to the capital.”

Rex smiled, looking up and meeting his friend's eye, “This is why you’re an ARC trooper,” He put a hand on his hip, now with a proud smirk, “I’ll talk to Krell, see what we can do.”

Fives practically cheered, and you laughed at his joyful display. The ARC troopers' energy and good mood always amazed you.

The captain shook his head and gave a soft laugh before turning and walking out of the hangar. You, however, got up and followed him, “Captain, I don’t know where the barracks are.” you stated, with a small grin, “Can you walk me to them?”

“Mesh’la,” he rolled his eyes but he matched your smile, “Of course.”

Now that you two had semi-privacy, “Are you ok?” you asked him quietly.

“Once this campaign is done, I will be.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “General Krell is…a challenging General to work with.”

You brushed your hand against his as a small sign of affection, “You’re doing the best you can given the circumstances.”

He gave you a grateful, yet exhausted look.

In the far distance, potentially a mile away, Umbaran missiles slammed down, exploding into a bright green and orange light. Despite how far the strike was, you could still feel the vibrations in the ground.

“Damnit, they never give up.” Rex sighed, “This won’t stop until that supply ship is taken care of.”

“Hopefully Krell will listen,” You said as the doors to another section, the living quarters, of the airbase opened.

“He hasn’t so far.” your lover led you through the halls before pressing a button next to a door. They slide open, revealing Rex’s temporary quarters and office. To the Umbarans, the private room must’ve belonged to the leader of the airbase. Once the doors closed, he held your face in his gloved hands.

“I want you to rest, mesh’la,” He murmured, kissing your forehead tenderly, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your exhaustion.”

“I can handle it.” you put your hands over his, “You and the others have been-.”

“We are built for this,” He interrupted you, “We’re clones, we can handle days without rest.”

You stared into his beautiful brown eyes, “Rex…”

“Please, mesh’la,” He whispered, “I can’t…I don’t think I can handle it if you're hurt again. Or worse.” He was pleading with you, gaze filled with an emotional desperation. It was rare to see him so unsteady. So unsure and even…afraid.

Your lovely captain was in despair. Yes, you’ve lost soldiers, but Rex has lost brothers.

You moved your hand and stroked his cheek, “Ok…” your words were soft, “Alright Rex, I’ll get some rest.”

He let out a small, relieved breath before kissing your forehead again, “Thank you.”

As promised, you allowed yourself to sleep once he was gone again. It was comical how as soon as you laid down on the stiff bed, you were completely out. It felt like your brain just turned off. You didn’t even dream, so exhausted your consciousness just faded out of existence.

When you awoke, it was due to yelling.

“Where is the honor in marching blindly to our deaths?!”

Fives.

You groggily sat up, rubbing your face in your hands with a pounding headache. You could hear Rex respond, but his voice was quieter and much calmer. It was hard to make out the words.

However, you heard Fives loud and clear through the door, “I'm sorry. I cannot just follow orders when I know they're wrong! Especially when lives are at stake!”

Your lover answered him, and again, he was quiet.

“I do support it. I do!” Fives was angry and frustrated, that much was clear, “But I am not just another number! None of us are!”

You admired the ARC trooper for his independence. He was a powerhouse on the battlefield and never backed down. Your friend was a very rebellious, free thinker, but intelligent enough to know when to fall in line.

He was a good friend who you loved dearly.

Surprisingly, you heard Rex’s voice, “Fives, where are you going?”

The ARC trooper responded with something, but you couldn’t hear him clearly that time.

You sighed and stood, stretching your arms over your head. How long has it been…?

With a quick check of the time, it had only been a few hours. Everything was sore and you were still tired. It would take more than a nap to help, apparently…

The door to the captains quarters opened and Rex seemed surprised to see you, “You should still be asleep.” He approached to kiss your cheek.

“I heard yelling. Is everything ok?” You asked, leaning into the peck.

“The march on the capital will continue as originally planned.” He sighed, “the men are understandably against it.”

“You are too.” You pointed out.

He nodded, looking downright tired, “I am, and if we had the time and the training, I’d go along with Fives’ plan. I know General Skywalker would with no question. But Krell has orders.”

You pet your lover’s cheek, “Rex, would you really follow every single order Krell gives?”

“I am duty bound to follow.” He responded.

“Even if you know they’re wrong?”

“I…” the captain sighed, “I believe in the Republic. I would fight and die for it without question.”

He’s avoiding the question. Pushing too hard might stress him further. You leaned forward and kissed his forehead, “You're a good soldier, Rex. but you're also a man with your own thoughts and feelings.”

He melted under your touch, “Without you, I’d probably have gone insane by now.” he mumbled, earning a small giggle from you.

“You’re doing the best you can,” Your words were tender and filled with love, “I need to check on the med bay, but I want you to get some sleep. Even if it's just a nap.” before he could argue, you booped his nose gently with your finger.

Rex let out a small chuckle, “Alright mesh’la, I’ll get some rest.” He pecked your cheek before you walked out of his private quarters. Getting to the med bay was quick and easy, and as soon as Kix saw you, he nodded in greeting.

Back to work. You were the 501st field doctor, you had a job to do, “What supplies do we have?”

Your medic friend listed everything you had.

Bandages, tourniquets, laser cauterizers, laser scalpel, bacta, patches, emergency suture kits

It was better than before taking the airbase, but the amount of such items was the real concern. Perhaps in a standard battle you’d be able to help everyone, but with Krell’s overwhelming need to kill as many soldiers as possible, It would be difficult.

You swallowed, taking in the low numbers. Triage would be crucial. Managing pain wouldn’t be the priority. Save bacta for critical wounds. Sutures and bandages for anything else.

“I’m going to talk to Krell.” You informed Kix, “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t get killed.” He called to you as you left.

Your steps took you up to the tower. Were you nervous? Potentially. If he took a step out of line, you might end up snapping and laying a fist in his face. Your anxiety came from your lack of faith in your own restraint. You’ve hit your limit, and if the damn Jedi pushed you too far, you might break.

Once the doors opened, you were met with Appo and Hick typing at a console while Krell looked over the Umbaran holomap.

“Doctor,” He greeted you rather…politely, “I didn’t call for you.”

“I have concerns, General.” You stepped inside, “I am aware of the impending march on the capital, but Kix and I do not have the supplies to keep everyone alive.”

Pong Krell looked up at you, eyes looking down right uninterested in what you have to say, “You have an extreme lack of faith in your skills, Doctor.”

“I am not doubting my skills,” You responded, tone becoming icy, “I am limited by the supplies I don’t have. I can save lives, but if I don't have the medical supplies to do so…”

The General pressed a button and the map changed. He went back to ignoring you, “And what do you propose I do about your misuse of much needed medical equipment?”

Misuse!?

You swallowed, “Respectfully, General, I think for the sake of the men, you should work with Captain Rex and think of another strategy to take the capital.”

“We do not have time!” he slammed his fist down, causing you and the other soldiers around to jump, “Every moment we waste, we are getting that much further away from taking Umbara for the Republic! Now I know your judgment is clouded by your useless feelings surrounding these clones, but winning this war is the priority!”

“Respectfully, General,” You backed down. All that bravado you told yourself earlier melted away. He had the power to court martial you, or worse, “My…feelings are concern for my patients. I am a doctor first, before I am a soldier.”

“Is it duty you feel, or something else?” He raised his head, “You spend an awful lot of time with the Captain, don’t you.”

Your blood ran cold.

He knew.

Your throat ran dry. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Appo look up from his console.

Back track. Now.

“Captain Rex and I have known eachother since the beginning of the war,” you explained, “We are friends, and I trust him with my life.”

“Just friends?” He rubbed his chin, “Your judgment is indeed clouded, Doctor. Your bias is hindering your view of the reality of this war.” The volume of his voice picked up until he was damn near shouting at you, “You can’t have friends on the battlefield! If you worry about those clones, you’ll never achieve victory!”

Wrath burned under your skin. You wanted to shout back, but you didn’t have Fives’ courage, “I understand General, but these men, not just Rex, have protected me. Saved my life on the battlefield. In turn I do my best to keep them alive. It’s my duty to care for them. Because of this, I am able to view things objectively during battle.”

Krell was silent for a moment before he gave a slimy smirk, “Rex, huh?”

Shit.

“Captain Rex, sir.” you cleared your throat and you caught Hick pausing in his typing on the console, “Since we are not currently on the battlefield, It’s easy for me to forget rank and titles. Forgive me, General.”

“I suppose you call General Skywalker by his name as well,” He turned to face the window, indicating he was done with you, “I am a General, Doctor. You will do well not to make that mistake with me. You’re dismissed.”

You saluted and turned, leaving the tower as quickly as possible.

Once on the ground, you spotted Fives and Hardcase walking to the hangar where the starships were being kept. With a glance back up to the tower, you followed the troopers.

Oh what trouble were they about to get into?

#reader insert #captain rex x you #captain rex x reader #star wars x reader #tcw x reader #star wars tcw #the clone wars x reader #umbara arc #captain rex #arc trooper fives #pong krell #star wars

95 notes · View notes

ash-rigby · 11 months ago

Text

I'm doing a raffle where 3 winners get to request a story from me.

I’ll be taking submissions until January 9th and will draw names on the 10th.

Please read all the below information before entering.

Basic Rules/How To Enter:

You must be a follower of this blog.

You must have your age/age range in your bio and be 21 or older (there are personal comfort reasons for that age minimum; sorry 18-20 folks). I won't accept "I'm not comfortable showing my age but I swear I'm 21+".

Reply to this post, send a non-anonymous ask, or DM me to say you want to enter the raffle. Only do this once; spamming will get your name taken off the list and you may get blocked if it's severe enough.

Don't send your request at this time. We'll talk about what you want if you win.

Once I draw the winners, I’ll make a public post listing them and they’ll be contacted via DM (we can move over to Discord at that point if you would prefer). I ask that winners respond to the DM within a week’s time or I may assume you’ve ghosted and draw another person in your place (so if you’ve entered and aren't one to check tumblr every day, just make sure you take a peek over here sometime between the 10th and 17th in case you've won).

The stories won't be worked on at the same time. They will be completed and posted in the draw order of the names. You're basically winning the ability to choose the direction of my next three stories.

If this goes well (i.e. there's enough interest), I will likely run similar raffles in the future!

My DMs and inbox are open for any questions.

Things to Consider:

Requests are required to follow my guidelines of what I do and do not write about. Please familiarize yourself with them; particularly the "don'ts"

I won't be accepting requests for stories involving your OCs. This will be available through paid commissions when I start taking them.

I also prefer to keep my erotica in the realm of original fiction, so I won't be accepting requests for fanfiction.

Requests can be for reader inserts rather than the 3rd person POV of my typical work. I'll be using the 2nd person method ("you", "your" etc.) due to personal gripes with ''y/n''.

In case it wasn't obvious, requests will remain oneshot short stories, so don't expect that I'll write a multi-chapter slowburn for you for free.

Any requests for groups can't exceed threesomes.

You can request monster/monster stories that exclude a human character entirely.

You can request stories involving characters of mine. They can be continuations of existing works or new ones entirely. I'm happy to write about any one of them.

Also Note:

I value my time, effort, and mental well-being. If you start acting belligerent or entitled during our correspondence, I hold the right to reject your request, potentially block you, and pick someone else. General rule of thumb: be respectful and patient 💜

Good luck, and thank you!

#text #mild #writing requests #raffle

141 notes · View notes

drifting-stars-mabel · 3 months ago

Text

[Intro Post] (2.0)

Hiii!! I'm Mabel!!

I hope this sends to this site-- Multiverse Internet stuffs, Y'know?

ANYWHOOO!! I'm on a mission to get home!! Although Grunkle Ford doesn't seem to be on that mission, but that's okay!!

But, Uh- That's all!!

[BY SENDING IN AN ASK, YOU HAVE AGREED TO READING THE BELOW]

[OOC]

Hello, Mod waffle(@waffletrex) here! It's only me on this account, so no need to worry about talking to someone who doesn't know what happened before- although I do tend to forget things often. and now I'm rambling

(Hey, Waffle here, since a certain starry event happened here, I will now let you guys ask if you want Paranoid Mabel or Carefree Mabel) (Just specify somewhere in your ask which period-of-time Mabel you want to speak to)

Basic stuff to know about the Drifting Stars AU;

Mabel was pulled through the portal in the "Not what he seems" episode. Stanley, Dipper, AND Soos saw her get pulled through.

Dipper probably DOESN'T know who Stanford is, but Mabel does since she's traveling the multiverse with him.

Dipper and Stanley are most likely(most definitely?) VERY sleep deprived from working on the portal.

Now basic stuff to know about THIS blog/take on the Drifting Stars AU;

Mabel hasn't been in the Multiverse for a year yet, it's still the summer, so she is still very hyperactive and noisy and stuff, she still has alot of her big poofy hair because she has yet to get into a situation that requires it to be cut!

She now has a fluffy calcio vampire-cat kitten due to an anon(I love this cat and I swear I'm making a ref for her at some point, I just can't draw cats)

Most things anons/askers do will NOT carry across, Mostly because It'll get exhausting after a while to keep up EVERYTHING. Sorry guys :(

Dipper and Mabel HAVE been reunited! Also Dipper got Stanley to reopen the portal so Stanley is all alone in the mystery shack.

Mabel was nearly kidnapped by a collector(Read drifting stars), she was saved, though, not without mental scars.

New; Stanley has gone through the portal himself, now they're all in the multiverse- including waddles :3

DNIS;

Weirdo shippers

GoFundMe stuff. not that I hate ya'll, I'm just trying to keep it positive around here mate.

ANYWHO, NOW TO BLOGS THAT ARE ASSOCIATED WITH THIS ONE!!

Dipper blog; @drifting-stars-dipper

Soos blog; @soos-ramirez-blog

Stanley blog; @drifting-stars-stan

Stanford blog; @driftingstars-ford,

Wendy blog; @drifting-stars-wendy

Bill blog; @driftingstars-bill

HAVE FUN EVERYONEE!! (Requirement; must have "drifting-stars" in the url & atleast TRY to be active in some way, if breaks are needed, go ahead)

Meet me, Waffle, and others in this discord server!

[SERVER ABOVE IS DEAD AND INACTIVE, HERE'S A BETTER SEVER I'M ACTUALLY ACTIVE IN!]

tags;

#nobodyistruelyunbroken - All posts related to an event I named 'Shooting Stars'. https://themysteryofgravityfalls.com/

#notcanon.havingfun - In character but not au wise. Not something that actually happens in the lore of this blog.

#paranoidmabel - More like Stanford than Mabel. #carefreemabel - More Mabel-Like, but still in the multiverse

#gravity falls rp #gravity falls rp blog #gravity falls au #gravity falls roleplay #gravity falls ask blog #carefreemabel #gravity falls #drifting stars au #mabel pines #gravity falls mabel #intro post #introduction #blog intro #pinned intro #introductory post

27 notes · View notes

ancanosaur · 7 months ago

Text

Does anyone else remember how weirdly toxic the MK Fandom was around MKx era? Becuase I do.

Those like handful of blogs that were just getting into beef with random Kano fans and their whole thing was "Kanno is a peice of shit! And so are you for liking this fictional antagonist!!!" I remember a few who put anti-Kano in thier description of their blog and it was just a hobby to shame people for drawing Kano fanart or liking the character in any way. (And a small revival with mk11 since they made him fuzzy for that game lmao)

Weird uncomfortable age gap shipping... That whole thing about that one artist that drew Cassie cage/subzero stuff and a shit ton of people were like "uh, he's friends with her dad and is like 52. So that's kinda weird." But then it also turned into a headcanon argument bc people were like "yeah subzero definitely watched Cassie cage grow up and he was a part of her childhood." Wich is so funny looking back at it bc there was no need for people to theorise anything about the characters relationship any further than what is Canon for it to be weird.

That fucking Sektor fan who just casually wrote headcanons about Sektor being a huge fucking racist for no goddamn reason?????!?!??? The headcanon specifically was about how they ship him and Cyrax and how Sektor calls him slurs and physically, mentally, and sexually abuses him as part of thier romantic relationship????????????? And they even gave examples of the horribly racist things he says to him¿¿¿? And that Cyrax was just okay with it??? And ended the post with like " I love my evil little man 🥰" No trigger warnings on the post either and when they were critiqued for it they were like "it's realistic and it's just my personal headcanons and you don't have to agree. Sektor is my comfort character and this is just how i see him." -type shit. (Deeper lore about said person. I actually interacted with them way before the headcanon thing. They approached me wanting to rp and they were so controlling they were basically just telling me what to do the whole time. super rude and impatient. So they just suckedl lol.)

Art blogs getting wierd asks that requested them to draw the fem characters in what was very obviously kink art but the asker would ask it in a way to trick the artist into making free fetish art for them. I got so many requests back in the day to "could you draw mileena for me :) but with her jaw wired shut? :)" or "could you draw kitana wereing a new pair of flip flops for me? That would make my day." like ????? Vague to the point of its sus but there were alot of minors in the fandom at the time including myself, i was in highschool at the time. but I was raised on deviantart so I could smell a wierd fetish from a mile away. But I did see other young artists fulfill these requests and several of them completely unaware that they were drawing kink art. Kink art is cool. But not when you're tricking minors into drawing it for you for free. (There was this mileena anon that was the most common one and I swear it was the same dude bc it was always something to do with with her getting her jaw wired shut, her getting bracess, or some other hardware being attached to her jaw/teeth.)

Selfshippers/heteroshippers being like "I know Kung Jin is the only Canon gay character in this very cis het and hyper masculine video game franchise- but im gonna ship him with my girl oc :) becuase he isn't real and it's not wierd to just pick the only gay one :) out of a huge line of big muscle men to choose from :) to ship with :) my female girl she/her lady with a vagina self insert :) or ship him with Cassie :) bc they are friends and should date :) I know he likes men :) and erasing that part of him :) erases :) a big part of his character :) and character arc :) but he would look cute :) kissing girls :) bc im :) girl :) and so is Cassie cage :) and my oc :) - is what I remember.

2015/16 really was a time for the fandom.

#feel free to add if you want lmao #mk #mortal kombat #mkx #mk11 #mk1 #mortal kombat x #also i would like to add! i dont think self shipping/self inserts are bad ppl were just weird about back then #i myself have self inserts everyone does #theyre cool 👍#mk headcanons #mortal kombat headcanon #and then there was the peaceful cornor of subscorp <3

26 notes · View notes

unrestrainedbalderdash · 2 years ago

Text

Queerplatonic Riddler x Reader fanfic

Disclaimers:

I am not a good writer. I am simply making this because I am an aroace who loves the Riddler and and desperate for fanfiction that isn't romantic or sexual and I want it to exist in the world.

This is a bit out of character because I am simply not smart enough to write a genius and I am also not very good at riddles.

Some of it is very contrived, in particular the "worldbuilding" had to be crammed into fitting a pattern for reasons, so it is very janky.

Allos are allowed to interact but PLEASE BE MINDFUL THAT THIS ISN'T FOR YOU.

Also I'm English so there may be a couple of covert language differences if you're American (eg: saw a post where apparently in the US "quite" means very whereas here it's much less intense than that)

Rating: Probably teen

Warnings: Swearing (S and F word), whump (hurt reader), violence and injury, implied ableism, near-death experiences, robberies and hostage situations (not very dangerous)

Reader insert info: Oriented aroace, quoiromantic, autistic (hyperfixating on Riddler)

Word count: 5022

Please don't give me loads of criticism I'm not releasing this to improve at writing I'm releasing this because there's no representation.

You sit in your room, reading the Gotham Gazette. A small smile appears on your face; the news keeps talking about the new crime spree, courtesy of the Riddler. You’re lying on your green bedcovers, kicking your feet and giggling. It is quite sad that his latest bank robberies are going to severely affect the economy, but… look at him. He looks so happy in the CCTV footage. His smile is the most precious thing you’ve ever seen. You love the newspaper, as long as you don’t read the articles. There’s a lot of speculation about his mental state, and, while you do agree that his mental state is probably not great, some of the speculation… it wouldn’t feel out of place on an Autism Speaks advert. You use permanent marker and doodle question marks to hide the more offensive articles. With everything that’s left, you cut it out, glaring at the scissors that are leaving jagged edges even though it is probably just a skill issue. You use Blu Tack to stick it onto the board with all of the other articles and pictures, and pick up those which fell off. Five crimes so far. You scan the articles. The names of the locations… there must be something… Classy and Elegant, a store for wedding clothes, with lots of money… House-Dealing Special Princesses, the estate agents for posh people… River Bank Tower, a tower that was a historic location for money laundering and was converted into a tourist attraction… Worshipping Mr Batman, a Batman fan club with a large following, as well as founders who got very rich… and Rose Petal Association, a very wealthy gardeners’ club. The letters… they feel… familiar…

You quickly open Wikipedia. Hands shaking – you don’t know if it’s from nerves or excitement – you search for Elgar’s Enigma Variations. Your eyes widen. Classy and Elegant – C.A.E! House-Dealing Special Princesses – H.D.S-P! R.B.T! W.M.B! R.P.A! His crimes are all after Elgar’s Enigma variations! You’re stimming, at having solved this riddle. But where will he strike next? The next piece… Ysobel…

You open Google Maps. This isn’t simple initials, the piece is named after a full name… You search around, trying to find something that fits Ysobel…

It’s the next day. As usual, it is raining. You’re carrying a green umbrella, and hoping that, if he does show up, he won’t realise that you carved the handle into the shape of a question mark. Anxiety fills you – the establishment which should be the next target, is very… suspicious. Why So Bell, a supposed bell manufacturer which everybody knows is really a front for one of the Joker gangs’ hideouts. You glance around, nervously. There are legitimate shops next door, it should be safe, it should be safe…

You’re hiding in a bush, shaking. It hurts, there are probably lots of bugs, but… you can’t just loiter in the open next to a Joker-affiliated operation, but… you have to see the Riddler’s next crime. Your umbrella is hidden with you in the bush. You’re getting uncomfortably wet. You don’t think your glasses will ever recover from this experience. Half an hour passes, and you watch as people come and go from the buildings. An obvious gang member leaves Why So Bell. You are shaking in the bush as she walks towards you. Does she see you? She’s coming closer. Closer. Closer.

She yanks you out by the tip of your umbrella. You look up at her sheepishly, trembling. She responds by punching you in the face.

You wake up, and your heart leaps as you see your favourite colour, green. Your heart is then filled with terror. The green isn’t from your many pictures of the Riddler, the green is from a massive vat of acid, and you’re dangling right over it. “Who the fuck d’you work for?!” the gang member asks. “N-N-NO-ONE! I’M N-NOT A GANG MEMBER! PLEASE! TH-THERE’S BEEN A TERRIBLE MISUNDERSTANDING!!” you squeak, terrified. The gang members – three of them – laugh at you. “Why were you hiding in that bush?!” a Joker goon shouts at you, as you feel yourself being lowered towards the acid, “You’re a spy, aren’t ya?!” “PLEASE! PLEASE! I W-WASN’T SPYING! PLEASE! I W-WAS… I WAS JUST HIDING IN THE BUSH, W-W-WAITING FOR SOMEONE!!” “Yer lying!”

Your vision is being consumed by green, and not in the usual Riddler hyperfixation way, but in the way that you are about to die. You are whimpering, trying desperately to stammer out an explanation, but there is no way to explain anything in a way that does not make you look like an alloromantic stalker…

Suddenly, the power cuts out. You scream, thinking that this the end. The Joker goons are shouting, confused. There are sounds of a scuffle, and one of their panicked yelling is cut short. The other two are fighting something. “B-Batman?” you shriek, terrified. Every time the Riddler goes to Arkham, he seems to come back worse. If Batman is here, he will surely arrest the Riddler and send him to Arkham yet again. The sounds of the scuffle stop. You wait, hyperventilating. This is very bad, as you are starting to breathe in the fumes of the acid. It’s rather funny that you solved the riddle, and now Batman came here to save you but will surely arrest the Riddler. You can’t help but laugh at the fact that you solved it for Batman, it’s so funny, he’s going to rot in Arkham! Ha! You’re being lifted up, taken away from the green, just like how your hopes of ever seeing the silly green man have gone away! Now you’re being picked up! It’s funny, Batman’s arms seem nowhere near as muscular as they should be! Isn’t it funny that you’re still in the dark, the Dark Knight hasn’t turned the light on, because dark! Ha! Get it? “Ha… I’ve already done the work, Batman!” you laugh. “Don’t compare me to that pathetic man,” your saviour replies. It’s hilarious, you’re such an idiot, you’re stupid! You’re a fool! You’re just as pathetic as Batman! What even is a Bat Man meant to be, anyway? And now, this man is holding you! From what you can see, the glow of the acid is turning his outfit green! Oh, what’s that silly symbol on his outfit?! Haha! The little question marks in your brain, and now there’s a big one on this man’s spandex! Hahaha! You’re an idiot! An idiot who didn’t realise you finally got to meet your hero! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! He thinks you’re so stupid! He can hear you mumbling about how stupid you are, you’re really not helping things, this is so funny, he’s going to hate you! And now, everything’s going dark like your future! Ha! Ha… Ha… Ha…………..

You’re in a hospital bed. Next to you is your umbrella. “You’re awake,” the nurse says, looking at you with concern. “Wh… what happened..?” “Someone found a note leading to you. You were passed out… Joker chemicals…” Your eyes widen. “J-Joker?! Is… are there gonna be lasting effects?!” “You might be more prone to fits of laughter, but that’s all.”

In the evening, you’re released from the hospital. You walk home, holding your umbrella. You feel an irregularity on the handle, and carefully take your finger away from it. Your heart leaps; there, on the handle… a small question mark, engraved into the wood. You stand there for a little while, shaking, your mouth open in what could be a smile. What could this mean?

You return home, giggling. You walked past Troyte Bank on the way, Troyte being the next piece in the Enigma variations. There also seems to be a pattern to the timing of the robberies – the next is going to be at some point between 1 and 1:30. You’re shaking. You could go to the bank at 1. You… you could see him… you could be in the bank while it’s being robbed… a bank robbery would be very scary, but you could see him! Being an innocent bystander in one of the Riddler’s very own crimes… the thought makes you giddy with excitement. You’re giggling again; the exposure to the fumes of the Joker chemical has evidently given you this new habit. You sound like a teenage girl talking with friends about a cute boy. Your laughter turns more nervous. What will people think when they hear your giggling? They’ll think you’re weird…

They already do, though…

It’s 1PM. You step into the bank from the rain of Gotham, clutching your umbrella, biting your lip to stop yourself from giggling. You loiter near the side, doing your best to not look suspicious, waiting for him… After three minutes, the door opens, and five goons holding machine guns enter the building, along with him. The Riddler, wearing his iconic green spandex, with the purple belt, and the large black question mark on the front. There are little question marks in lines down the sides of the arms and legs. He’s wearing his mask and gloves, of matching shades of purple. The spandex… doesn’t leave much to the imagination. You can tell that he is quite muscular, although not nearly as muscular as people renowned for strength, such as Batman. “I’m tough and elastic, but you have left! O! What am I? A robbery!” he exclaims, gleefully. You can’t help but smile at his wide grin. He twirls his cane as the gunmen usher everyone in the bank to the side. The gunmen tell everyone to kneel, and you kneel down, clutching your umbrella. An old man grunts from having to kneel. The Riddler looks at the group. “Tell you what. Anyone who can answer any riddles will be allowed to stand up!” he says, taking out some cards from within his belt and giving them to one of his goons, whispering instructions for the order they get distributed in. He and two of the goons walk into the vault, and are presumably taking the loot, while one of the goons points his gun at the bank staff, one points his gun at the group, and the last one is handing out the riddles. You receive your card with the riddle on it. You read the riddle: What can be gentle as the wind, or as all-consuming as fire, as strong as a mountain, as beautiful as a sapphire? “Is it love?” you ask shyly, before he has even finished handing out the riddles. He walks over to you, and reads the riddle. After a little pause, he grunts and nods, and walks off. You start to stand up, and glance at the old man next to you who is struggling. “The answer’s water,” you murmur in his ear. He rereads the riddle, and then gives his answer to the goon, who has now finished handing out the riddles. He is allowed to stand, and you wait for the goons to glance away, then give another person an answer. “My, my, you’re very good at solving other peoples’ riddles, aren’t you?” a soft voice says in your ear. You squeak. It’s him. You can feel yourself trembling nervously, he’s so close, he has a smirk on his face. The Riddler gives you a wink, and moves away. He leaves with the goons and the loot he has stolen.

That night, you go home, shaking. You’re filled with emotions, and they’re scaring you. You… you think you might… love him… you’re not sure what kind of attraction you feel… and it’s scary. He means a lot to you, and you want him to know how you feel, but you don’t even really know how you feel. You go and print out the page for Oriented Aroace on the LGBTQIA Wiki. You get out a pen and paper, and start making a diagram, with some bars, each corresponding to a different type of attraction, the main ones you can think of. For the bar about sexual attraction, you can easily put NO in capital letters. For sensual attraction, you fill it quite high. You pause, and decide to write definitions for the types of attraction. You reach romantic attraction, and hesitate. What is romantic attraction? Romance is entirely a social construct… how does one define it? After a minute of trying to think, you just fill it with question marks and print out the wiki page for quoiromantic. You start writing: “I don’t know what romantic attraction is meant to feel like. I don’t feel it usually, but you make me feel something I’ve never felt before, and I can’t tell if it’s a cross between hyperfixation and alterous attraction, or if this is what romance feels like.” You glare at the paper. You genuinely can’t tell if it’s you finally feeling romantic attraction for one person, or if it’s internalised amatonormativity and you’re just hyperfixating and have tertiary attractions. All you know is… that you love him…

The next day – another rainy one - is here. You’re loitering inside Without Nines, a casino, when he comes in, with several gunmen. There are also two women, dressed in spandex with question marks – Query and Echo. The Riddler is wearing a very dapper green suit with black question marks, along with a purple and blue waistcoat with question mark shapes. His light green tie is embroidered with purple question marks, and he wears a green bowler hat with a purple ribbon and a black question mark, the colours matching the rest of his outfit. His shirt is black, and he wears purple gloves and his purple mask. A little smile plays upon his face as everyone in the casino immediately panics, at his mercy. Guards immediately try to fight him, but the gunmen fire some warning shots. “Ah ah ah! I’m going to take a hostage! And if you don’t let me take the money, you’ll find yourselves riddled with bullets!” he says, smiling smugly. Your heart leaps as he starts walking straight towards you. You let out a little squeak as he hooks his cane around your arm, and pulls you towards him. You’re shaking, and do a little giggle, nervous. This is it. He’s noticed you. He’s taken you hostage. And all you can do is giggle like a lunatic. The Riddler is giggling slightly, as he unhooks his cane from your arm, and puts his arm around your shoulders, pointing the cane under your throat threateningly. You can feel the cold metal against your neck. With some of his goons following, he walks through the casino, holding you close to him, letting everyone know that he could kill you if they don’t let him rob the place. And yet, he gives you a gentle squeeze, and something tells you that he isn’t going to hurt you. Query and Echo force a staff member to open the vault.

He lets out a giggle as the group walk into the vault. You let out a little gasp as you see how much money there is. The Riddler chuckles. “Impressed?” he says in your ear with a low voice. He walks in front of you, and looks at your awestruck face. You’re trembling, he’s looking at you, all you can do is stare at the money like an idiot. He giggles. “Alright, then. Looting this place might take a while, so we may as well get comfortable,” he says, a smile on his lips. The regular gunmen start taking the money, while Query and Echo stay on guard at the vault’s entrance. The Riddler puts his hand on your shoulder and pushes down to make you sit on the floor. You let out a little giggle. He sits down, facing you, and holds his cane, resting it against your neck, presumably to establish some threat. “Well, then. Riddle me this. Why hasn’t Batman caught me yet?” he asks. You squeak delightedly when he says it. He laughs a little, a laugh that makes your heart feel so light. He looks happy. “Go on. I’ve seen you three times, now. You’ve solved my riddle…” he says, leaning in. “Not just anyone can do that.” You start giggling uncontrollably. You feel light. He leans back a bit, waiting for you to regain your composure. “Are you always this giggly? Is it from the Joker chemicals? Or… maybe… just maybe… is it only when you see me?” he asks, winking. You giggle more. “Ha! Ha! Hahahahaha! It’s J-J-Joker… ha! Joker chemicals! Ha ha!” you laugh. He looks at you, sympathetic, and puts a hand on your shoulder. Your giggling gets worse, and you feel yourself blushing, and he immediately pulls his hand away. He waits quietly for you to calm down, as his men continue emptying the vault. He pulls you to your feet, and whispers into your ear. “I only have two more robberies in this plan. That’s the… initial… idea…” he whispers. He’s so close to you, you can feel his breath on your ear. He gives a flamboyant twirl of his cane, and holds you menacingly again, putting his cane back to your throat. “Well then, my little hostage, it’s soon time for me to set you free,” he says, giving his handsome smile. You giggle, and blush slightly. You’re looking up at him, and he looks down at you. He lets out a little laugh. “You’re rather adorable,” he says. You squeak, and blush much more. He giggles. “Well, I’ll give you some time to regain your composure, haha,” he says, backing away slightly. You take deep breaths, and eventually calm down. He holds you again, and the group leaves the vault. He places you back with the other civilians, and moves away, his demeanour much more menacing… “Alright! And, just to seal this wondrous little robbery, everyone will give me one of their valuables!” he says, laughing. He looks so happy… you can’t help but smile… He takes peoples’ necklaces as they tremble, a pair of earrings, some fancy brooches… he reaches you, and smiles. You already know what he wants, and you shyly hold the umbrella. Your eyes meet as he wraps his hand around the handle, your grip lingering. He takes it from you, giggling, and continues taking other peoples’ valuables.

The next day, you’re walking through the streets of Gotham, giggling excitedly. Today is going to be the day you come out to him. You spent yesterday evening getting ready to tell him, getting ready to speak. You’ve simplified your explanation considerably. You can’t help but giggle at the fact that you’re going to see him, and tell him everything… maybe… maybe he was impressed by your ability to predict his crimes when even Batman couldn’t… “Hey, what’s that dumb smile on your face for?!” a menacing voice says. A gang of thugs surrounds you. You go pale. “Well? Why you giggling? You think you’re the Joker or some shit?!” he shouts. You look around, desperate for help. Citizens are walking away, only glancing for some spectacle. A furtive woman in a green coat opens her phone and points it at you – is she going to record this?! “Uh, heehee, I, I d-don’t wanna f-fight… it’s… ha… I inhaled some Joker fumes… p-please… haha… don’t h-hurt me…” “You won’t be smiling when we’re done with you!” a thug says, elbowing you in the abdomen and sending you staggering back. Tears are streaming down your face. You’re missing the Riddler’s robbery, surely he’ll think you’re an idiot, he’s going to hate you- you’re punched in the face, and sobbing. They keep punching you, keep kicking you, keep kicking you. Whack. Whack. Whack. It hurts. You feebly try to hold up your arms to block their blows, but they easily shatter your defences. You’re bleeding now. It hurts so much. They kick your legs, and you crash down to the ground, crying. They get their weapons out… one of them has a hammer… You can hear the crunch of your bones as your legs shatter. You can only whimper as one gets out her knife, and stabs you in the abdomen. You’re screaming. “PLEASE STOP! I D-D-DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO YOU!!” you cry as they keep hitting you. Your vision goes black. This is it, you’re going to die… “LEAVE THEM ALONE!” a voice shouts. They stop, tense. Your head is bleeding, you can’t think straight, but… it sounds… familiar… Your vision is lit up with blue, as something fires electricity at the thugs. They shriek, and run away, leaving you. There are murmurs among the onlookers. You can feel hands slide underneath your body, as your saviour picks you up. He’s walking quickly. “Hey… hey… please… please talk to me…” he says. Your vision is starting to return, and you can see the Riddler, tears streaming down his face. “Sorry…” you say weakly. “It’s alright, it’s alright, none of this is your fault, please don’t apologise for anything, you will be safe,” he says, voice cracking. “I w-was gonna be there… I… I promise I’m not stupid…” “Oh… oh, baby… I already know you’re not stupid. Shh… everything’s going to be okay…” he says, holding you close as he walks. He is thinking. “Alright… you need me on the fairway, you need me for luck, but when you have me you’re well and truly fucked, what am I?” “Uh… uh… uh… a… a stroke?” you answer. He strokes your hair with his soft hands. He’s wearing a green suit, this time with a purple shirt that’s only buttoned 2/3 of the way, showing off his chest and collarbones. His hat is at a jaunty – no, messy – angle, and his mask is streaked with tears.

He enters a building. You can’t read the sign, but you can tell the initials are E.D.U. It’s dark, this building must be a repurposed warehouse. It’s quiet, except for your whimpering, and his heavy breathing, and quick footsteps. He continues stroking your hair, his hands shaking. He sets you down, and rolls up your shirt, and you can hear his sharp intake of breath. “Uh… okay… this looks bad… I’m going to have to stitch your wound…” he says. You shudder, and he picks you up. “It’s going to be okay… I promise.” He rushes into the bathroom, lays you into the bathtub and turns the tap on, rinsing the wound under the water. He gives your hair a pat, and starts preparing his first aid equipment, sterilising a needle and thread. He holds your hand, and cleans your wound as you whimper. He takes you out of the bathtub, and lays you down, using a towel to dry you. “Listen, you’ll be okay, I promise,” he says. He starts rubbing some cream around your wound, and you feel yourself going numb. He starts stitching, and you’re crying. “Shh… shh… uh… what’s so fragile that saying its name breaks it?” “S-s-silence…” you respond. He nods, and keeps stitching. “You’re a smart cookie, you know?” His words make your heart leap. He keeps stitching. “I do mean it. I really do… I’m almost done with the stitches…” After what feels like an eternity, he finishes, and smiles at you, taking his gloves off. “The worst bit’s over,” he says, stroking your hair. He bandages the area. Now that the worst part is over, you start to appreciate the softness of his hands. You realise he is wearing green nail polish, with a purple question mark on each finger. He finishes bandaging you. “All done!” he says, giving you a headpat, making you giggle. He gives you a warm smile. Your giggling dies down as the exhaustion starts to really hit you. You pass out.

When you open your eyes, you’ve been tucked into a soft, green bed, covered in purple question marks. “You’re awake!” he says, reminiscent of a puppy who just saw a friend. On top of his outfit from before, he’s wearing a knitted jumper, green with purple question marks, it looks so soft. You’re still in pain, but you blush a little, as he reaches out with his hand, then pauses. “Um, would it be comforting if I held your hand?” Your heart leaps, and you nod, giggling. He gently takes your hand in his, and smiles softly. It’s so soft, it distracts you from some of the sharp pain you feel all over your body. “Um… th-thank you…” you mumble. “Hey. I had to save you, you’re like a good luck charm at this point. It… it’s not right when you’re not there,” he says softly, stroking your hand gently. You squeak, giggling. He looks at you, a little smile on his face. “So why do you keep following me? Is it gratitude for me saving you from Joker’s gang? Are you trying to prove your intelligence against the smartest man in Gotham? Or maybe… something else?” he asks in his soft voice, winking at the end. You giggle nervously, trying to collect yourself. “I… I… heehee… hahaha… you’re… hahahahaha…” You’re shaking, nervous, and he can tell. He gently strokes your hand, a comforting smile on his face. “It’s okay… take your time…” “Ha… ha… haha… YOU’RE MY SPECIAL INTEREST!” you blurt out. His eyes are wide, and he looks very surprised. You laugh nervously. “Like autism?” he asks, his smile widening. You nod, cursing yourself for being so blunt and probably making a fool of yourself – he’s smiling wide and crying tears of joy. His leg is bouncing. “Hahahaha I need to come out hahahahaha I’m an oriented aroace I hahahaha don’t feel romantic or sexual attraction but I’m feeling other types of attraction to you,” you say, shaking. He has a little pause of processing this, and smiles. “Hey, you’re valid! So, uh, what other types of attraction do you feel?” he asks, giving a good-natured smile. “Hahahaha I feel sensual attraction where I want to touch you and I feel alterous attraction which is uh it’s an emotion attraction that isn’t exclusively romantic or platonic haha and maybe I feel aesthetic attraction hahahaha,” you say, trembling. He grins, and giggles. “You’re quite the riddle, aren’t you? I’ve taken quite a liking to you,” he says, his smile lighting up your world. The way his eyes light up fills your heart with joy. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re so precious. Seriously, you’re one of the most adorable people ever. Seeing you during my crimes… well, now I know how Ozzie feels about seeing birds. You’re like… a little friend…” You let out a squeak, and he laughs. “You’re so cute… may I put my hand on your face?” he says. You nod, giggling, as he cups your head in his hands. “How do you feel about eye contact?” he asks. “Haha! I’m okay making eye contact with people I like!” you respond. There is a pause, as he slowly moves his eyes towards you.

“And… do you… like me?” he asks.

You look into his eyes. Both of you giggle. He gently strokes your hair. “Is this okay, d… may I call you dear?” Your heart leaps, and your mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Haha! I, ha, uh, haha it’s okay! Ha… uh… haha… what… w-what’s… what… what are we?” you ask, blushing slightly. There is a pause, as he thinks. “You seem to be my biggest fan, and I find you simply adorable. I’ll do anything to make you feel comfortable. I’ll look after you… Batman almost caught me last time, so I have plenty of free time…” “What… what happened? Wh-what did I miss?” You feel a little sting at the memory. The pain is coming back, and you can feel tears forming. He wipes the tears from your eyes. “I started the robbery… everything was in place, I had the plan, but… it didn’t feel the same, without you. What takes deep hold and becomes every day, and without it the tree will fall?” “Uh… root… routine?” “Exactly. Seeing you, it’s become part of my routine… you hold a place in my heart… I… my plans, I started planning for you…” You look at him, in awe. Somehow, the biggest genius ever, your hero… has been thinking about you. “Wow…” is all you can say. You’re not even giggling anymore, you’re just repeating the word. He ruffles your hair. “We Rogues, not many people like us. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a devoted fan… and you solved my plan faster than Batman… you can understand how much that means to me, right?” he says, seeming… nervous? The confidence is gone, he looks… anxious… like he needs reassurance. “You’re… haha… my… ha-ha-hero…” you say. His eyes light up, and he nods his head rapidly. “Um… is it alright if I give you a kiss on the forehead?” he asks. You nod, and start giggling again, as he gently puts his hand behind your head. He gives you a soft kiss on the forehead, making sure to avoid the bandage which you finally notice. He’s so gentle, and the tender kiss is taking away the pain you feel. He lets go, and looks down, into your wide eyes. “With skill, I am paid to save. What am I?” “… Protect?” He nods. “I want to protect you… you’re… you’re too precious. I’ll find the people who did this to you…” he says, wrapping his arms around you, looking into your eyes to gauge your reaction. You have a tired look in your eyes, as you lean into him. “I… I have something for you…” He reaches down, and holds your umbrella. Your crude attempt of carving the handle into a question mark shape has now been greatly polished, but most importantly, it has been covered in vibrantly-coloured question marks. “It’s… beautiful…” “A beautiful umbrella for a beautiful mind, from an even more beautiful mind,” he says, as you relax in his arms and make a contented little humming noise. He gently strokes your hair, and you fall asleep in the Riddler’s arms, your head buried in his chest.

#riddler fanfic #platonic riddler fanfic #queerplatonic riddler fanfic #platonic riddler x reader #queerplatonic riddler x reader #riddler & reader #the riddler #riddler #edward nygma #edward nigma #dc fanfic #aspec reader #oriented aroace reader #aroace reader #autistic reader #queerplatonic x reader #not tagging normal riddler x reader in case people have filtered it out bc they're sick of seeing smut on the dash #i am aware that there is quite possibly nothing else out there with some of these tags. but we can change that.

52 notes · View notes

moltengoldveins · 7 months ago

Text

alright. It’s self-inset week on this illustrious hellsite, and I’m unlearning shame, so here’s a self-insert for the pseudo-MCYT universe I have meticulously constructed in my brain that had only a passing resemblance to the actual canon:

Her Deal is that she’s an Enderian who, for various reasons, got picked up by Emduo during a midlife crisis arc after the end of the (general) events of SMP earth. She was caught in the rain, pretty badly burned, and had no local support system. Their intentions at first were to find her a place to stay while traveling, since mortals have a rough time around gods for long periods of time. However, (because I tend not to give my self inserts a lot of powers, but when I do, they’re powers I think I'd actually have) they find that, while she isn’t the most physically gifted, she has an unparalleled ability to just…. Mentally Handle Bullcrap Beyond Mortal Ken. She isn’t the kind of person to be phased by either a walrus Or a fairy at her doorstep, that kind of thing. They have few rough patches with her being too stubborn to get along well with Techno but it evens out eventually, and she’s good with Brian (the crow) so they kinda just… let her stick around as they travel.

She’s a hardcore, so her aging quits after a few years of ‘just traveling, trying to find you a home, we swear.’ She ends up a Blood God adherent later on, (I have Headcanons about the blood god that are too complicated to explain here, the gist of it is that most gods have ‘chats’ in one way or another but the BG is basically the only one to have a Chat that just Sucks That Much for their adherents. Mari’s chat is pretty dang small, and they are restrained to her pov. Techno’s the only BG adherent with an omniscient chat.) and over time, their relationship goes from ‘kinda uncles’ to ‘those are my weird parents, thanks.’ Sometimes a family can be two demigods, the Lady of death, and a funky little teleporter with severe sensory impairment. (Sucky vision, hypersensitive hearing)

She’s absent from the events of the DSMP for any number of reasons, (depends on my mood tbh. She’s fun in the DSMP, but she’s also nearly as fun when slapped randomly in another media property entirely and attempting desperately to get home, I’m a sucker for dimension hopping AUs) but pops back in at least once, enough to meet Tommy and be aware of Wilbur’s loss. Her dynamic with Will was rough, and her dynamic with Tommy distant, but she saw the potential in the bedrock bros dynamic, even when said bros are on the outs.

Post-DSMP (good ending, the people we love live and are friends) she spends the vast majority of her time doing physical labor around the family house, learning how to build with Phil, and helping Beeduo with Michael. She’s nowhere near Emduo in combat skill, but she was taught by them for a long time, which means she’s still good enough to draw even with Tommy, ten months into his training regularly with Techno. She still can’t manage to beat Tubbo in a fair fight, no teleportation. (he’s small and jacked and fast ok, she’s no good at countering that)

honestly I just like the idea that Emduo at some point in their however many hundreds of years picked up a slightly-too-neurospicy-for-their-own-good-child and couldn’t find a way to get rid of them fast enough to keep from getting attached, and I personally enjoy having enough platonic relationships with the characters I care about in that fandom to excuse any random plot point I feel like writing about XD it’s a convenient overlap that has created a pretty fun character :)

#molten rambles #oc artwork #self insert #self insert week 2024 #wheeeeeeelp that’s all folks I’m gonna go overthink this for the next 1000 years thanks #I Do Not Share my self insert stuff #Like EVER #I don’t draw it I don’t write it it remains INSIDE THOUGHTS #But it’s unlearning shame and guilt 2024 so here we are #Her name is Koine Greek for ‘eye’ btw #‘Mah-ti’

9 notes · View notes

friendsim2 · 8 months ago

Note

Just a question, I don't want to appear rude or anything...

I like your game, really do, but have you considered writing MSPAR as literally anything else than a pathetic little pleb who just can't seem to do a single thing right unless they have some sort of guidance?

I recall they were some kind of God or at least a supernatural entity, weren't they? All that Green Sun bullshit. So then why does majority of the characters treat us like complete trash? Even less than that in extreme cases (cough cough tyzias)

I understand Alternia is harsh or whatever, and they are just pissed at everything that breathes (if a fictional character's feelings are really needed to be taken into consideration) but this just feels like weak writing to me, especially after several volumes. I played both revolution and salvation to see if the treatment of the main character would change, but.....nope!

In og friendsim, they were a dork too, absolutely, but they also had the qualities to stand up for themselves (ie. insulting both Mallek and Galekh, highblood enough to rip us to shreds if they wanted to) but now, all their "personality" revolves around the fact of how trully incapable, pathetic, and weak they are despite the fact template MSPAR wasn't even that hard to stomach. This one on the other hand....

I didn't expect a sequel of a literal meme goldmine to be so negative (again, Alternia is Alternia, ik), even aggressive towards the player in certain moments. I guess winding down while playing was never the idea in the first place? I felt personally attacked by the ooc characters for something I didn't even do lol. If this was your intention, then you did a really good job.

Chickening out made perfect sense in the first volume, new surroundings and a murder to absorb, but as the volumes grew more brutal and savage, it truly makes no sense to keep a main character so mentally weak. I swear, I can't be the only one who is immensely annoyed by this.

But hey, that's just my humble opinion after 35 hours of playtime. Still excited for Marvus ofc

Peace out

So, I think there's a couple things worth pointing out here - and just to preface this isn't "your take on this is bad and wrong" but more "have you considered this?"

Don't expect this will change your opinion that much, since you clearly put a lot of time into this, but maybe you'll see things in a slightly different light - at the very least, I feel like this is thought-out critique that deserves a response.

First off, and I feel like this is an important baseline to set - we treat MSPAR as a character, not a reader insert. They are being influenced by an outside force, but exist in a kind of weird meta-narrative state where they're kind of also in control of their own personality. While this might not be explicitly stated in FS/PQ, it's definitely the vibe you get from the writing - MSPAR clearly shows a personality separate from the person playing it.

The "god powers MSPAR" is very much the product of the end of Pesterquest, not OG Friendsim. Keep in mind that literally none of the Friendsim characters have seen that side of MSPAR. Also, MSPAR mostly used their god powers to try to fix things for their friends... although there's a path where they're very much condescended to by the narrative itself. But like, Friendsim MSPAR is kind of a sad wet cat - they get hurt a lot and spend a lot of time wandering kind of aimlessly. They're in a lot of situations - and that was our influence moreso than PQ's tone.

The MSPAR that everyone on Alternia knows is basically not the same MSPAR as the end of PQ. Because stuff happened in PQ that none of them are aware of. But they've stepped back into another part of the story and subjected themselves to the influence of other, darker forces (Scratch) by choosing to go back for their other friends so... shit's fucked, man.

The story is intentionally darker in tone that the original Friendsim and Pesterquest - that was an intentional choice, and we know it might not be to everyone's liking. And if you're more in it for the lighter, more humorous vibes of FS/PQ that is completely fair and understandable. Some of that is the result of taking the Alternian world-building in a more serious direction, some of it is to reflect the changing attitudes as characters grow up and fill into their roles in the system more, and some of it is just a difference in writing style. And, like, fully acknowledging that the story gets downright grim at times. Not to say that there aren't darker moments in OG FS - stuff like the bad ending with Nihkee or the stuff with Daraya and the mall - but it is overall a little more humorous.

At it's heart, Friendsim 2 is a story about trauma - both the trauma of Alternia and what it represents, and also the trauma inherent in MSPAR's attempts to deal with the implications of how the timelines work. The trauma is both from MSPAR and from other characters who've interacted with MSPAR. That does inform both how MSPAR responds to stuff (keep in mind they're basically slugging through like a week of time here with very limited rest, just moving from point to point without a strong idea of what's guiding them). But also, it is a story about pushing past that trauma and getting to place where recovery and healing might be possible. And yeah, some of the payoff for that is coming in volumes 12 - 14 so it's not fair to be like "why can't you see this?!" The arc of the story is very much a "start at the bottom and crawl your way up" kind of thing, with moments of triumph along the way (breaking Skylla and Konyyl out in volume 3, helping Chixie in volume 7, helping the rebels in volume 9, freeing Folykl and Kuprum in volume 11)

Idk if I'd say everyone is negative towards MSPAR. Obviously there's some very prominent examples (Tyzias, Polypa) - but that varies from extremely positive (Stelsa, Mallek, Bronya, Lynera) to neutral (Amisia, Tirona, Tegiri) to "we don't remember you" (Diemen, Charun, Fozzer). The balance is probably neutral-to-negative, which was an intentional choice.

The story is about to throw some curveballs at you in volumes 12, 13, and 14 which may or may not influence how you see things. I suspect at least one of these (from volume 13) will probably not be something you vibe with, but a couple might be positives for you.

I really hope that the ultimate conclusion of the game itself helps put some stuff in perspective. The final volume is a way of tying all the threads together in a way that will hopefully feel satisfying - and there's a bunch of ending slides that will show the outcomes of various choices you made along the way, Fallout style.

Anyway, appreciate the well thought-out critique. It sounds like you might have gone in expecting a slightly different story than the one you got - and that's completely fine! Hopefully the last few volumes will prove to be a satisfying send-off - and regardless we appreciate the investment of time and energy into the game!

#friendsim 2

16 notes · View notes

howdytherepardner · 2 years ago

Text

feelings within

in which one goes nowhere, a lot of places, fast

1. there is a sensation in the body when there are needles in major veins in both of one’s arms (if applicable).

it might be easy, or even natural, to expect that this is pain of a certain degree. i imagine the visual, splayed out and propped up like a turkey pre-roast and subbing an oven thermometer for tubes constantly pulling out and pushing in blood via a machine of constant whirs, is largely disquieting for some. the fear of just one needle is enough for some folks to swear off blood donations period and to dissuade from more than a few medical procedures. i’ve never been too avoidant of the situation, being Weird enough to relish the chance to look at the needle embrace the sensation as it washes over.

but having one in both arms is a new experience for me, and with it new that a new discovery. an arm must remain still when the needle is in, and when both are occupied, both must be still. i can’t say what it’s like to lose a limb, but it did make me think of a reversal of the common trope with tools as ‘an extension of the self.’

2. it would not be a stretch to say that the Smart Phone (or a connection to the internet) is very much a tool that becomes a part of us in such a way that the Severing is felt. my little refurbished friend will tend to die when i even think of using the camera in extreme temperatures; a loss when out-and-about creates a particular sense of disturbance, despite knowing that It in many ways is a disturbance.

but i digress. the jump between one arm and none arm is much larger than two to one, which was made somewhat evident by my choice of music as an intended pass time for the two hours. i was listening with wireless earbuds, and while the staff member attending was very gracious to manually insert the left one after i was already still, it was not all the way in - hanging off the pinna, rather than covering the canal entrance. much to consider beyond just the asymmetry of music, but my own hesitance to ask for it to be readjusted. like when waitstaff asks if the food’s alright, and you say that it’s Perfect, despite the fact that it’s not what you wanted (and probably isn’t the best food in the world).

3. I do wonder about that sometimes. It’s the meme that I see sometime, the girl requesting a correction on behalf of her boyfriend (the Daisy/Luigi “he asked for no pickles” remains a standout). I’m sure there’s that element of timidness, with whatever socio/psychological basis that informs it, but I also do think there’s an element of exploration, tolerance, and/or contentedness.

i did ask eventually, encouraging a staff member to not worry about applying pressure. sealed in, the waiting i expected began.

Set the scene a little more. The space is a blend of hospital and office vibes, with cubicle-esque desks on the east end of the open room, with surfaces for donors in the west. Some more simple surfaces for the standard blood donors in the middle, but west most was two rows of the more intricate set-ups. Seats facing each other (my eyes occasionally made contact with others, but only briefly), with the massive blood processing doohicky right next to them. The seats have a screen installed, with Netflix as an option recommended. Another screen on the doohicky, monitoring things like input/output pressure, blood iron content, and importantly for the experience - an estimated time remaining and a progress bar.

4. where a high fantasy element lacks literal verbal incantation, i always found it interesting to consider what it is that actually causes the magic shit to happen. avatar characters can execute bending forms without needing to actually manipulate things everytime, so what kind of ‘switch’ do they need to flip? the idea of there being some muscle-flex or mentality that allows one to opt in and out of this more freely manipulating state was always funny to ponder.

anyways, my actual time was about 5 minutes longer than my estimate at the start. i would chalk it up to less-than-optimal hydration the 24 hours prior, but in the moment with the stress ball in hand, i really believed that if i found the perfect rhythm of squeezing or breath depth and interval, that it could slice the time into nothing. some of the timing was the machine of course, presumably determined to not take my own life, but the timing Disparity is enough for me to believe that some onus was on me. reaching for straws that slipped through my fingers.

5. that said, i think the attending staff were sure to let me know that i was “almost there.” 10 minutes out, 25 minutes out, a full hour out, just under half of the way. it was this really strange thing, and i imagine medical professionals have to negotiate something a lot with how they provide comfort. since the machine would not deprive me of life after the fact, and presumably low chances of complications (the only qualifier being a minimum blood iron content, weight, and pulse), the choice to offer reassurances is not loaded with many ethical considerations.

it would have been my preference though to just have been left alone, savoring my music over the long course like i preferred - but of course, they upheld a standard of decency and care to check on me. how dare they ask if i wanted a blanket? how insulting, to make sure i was really okay without Netflix for the time! must i not have even a moment to savor any sense of discomfort?

6. because i probably would have been more comfortable if i did have a blanket covering my short sleeved self, the subtle a/c and grey skies outside enough to have a chill walk, but not run, down my spine. i didn’t feel strongly cold, but enough to notice that the blood seemed absent.

unburdened by the bounds of the vein, my self had expanded to share rent with a machine (and my platelets later, i certainly expect, well beyond the confines of the room). seldom do i get to try density like that, and indeed, one feels just a bit closer to being as light as air. it takes a second to get to that subtle high, and with the sensation grounded by the truth of cold and stillness, one recognizes the elation as something realer than a dream.

it made the music that much better. a playlist of old favorites and nothing else to do let the reflection and the feelings and memories from those days come rolling right back.

7. the little sense of pain, then, to know those days as things to remember, and not to be.

8. and roku city scrolling by right through it all. a placeholder, not made to be known or noticed for more than a few moments, known upside down and backwards, all its film references decoded before even halfway.

9. and after it’s done, and the utility of arms, motion, autonomy return, the body maintain a stony sense of numbness. and the little packet of cheez its are never quite as salty, savory as the first time.

10. oh well. the promise of a free t-shirt ft. Joe Cool seems to mean something.

5 notes · View notes

turtletaubwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 34

Can You Pretend?

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 11331

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Taste of You ~ Rezz Feat. Dove Cameron | Crazy On You ~ Hidden Citizens

Summary: Getting to know the hunters is getting to you, especially when your own past gets too much attention.

Ch. 33 ~ Recap: You decided that you would kill Shanks for Buggy if he forced you to marry him, and Shanks realized that there was hatred behind your eyes. Mihawk confessed his plan to be the villain so that he could bring you back to Buggy. Crocodile and Buggy encouraged him to try to find another way.

Author's Note: I can't believe that all of these random thoughts I braindumped months ago are finally getting into the story 🥰🥰

Dark Content Warning: There's plenty of fun in this chapter, but there are some extremely potentially triggering scenes. PLEASE DO NOT READ if these might be triggering for you!!! I’ve included a summary directly below the scenes, so that you won’t miss the story if you need to not be in the BIG FEELS of the scene. The summaries will be bracketed with ~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~ Please take care of yourself, you are not alone! 💜

Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️ I didn't bracket that scene, but please remember who they are! I still love my sweet, bad boys 🥰 but you have been warned!!!!

~ 1st ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if childhood trauma regarding parents fighting could be triggering. Flashback of very small children witnessing/hearing their parents having a very heated argument, from the child's POV. The topic of the fight is a bit of a spoiler, so if any kind of relationship trauma could trigger you, you can check the summary first before diving in.

~ 2nd ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if severe mental illness episodes, treatment, or hospitals might be triggering for you.

Alternate POV Symbols:

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Kat wasn’t here.

Your sister wasn’t here with her wide eyes that were usually sharp with disdain, but always held concern for you. Always held an attention to your needs that you didn’t want her to carry.

But not tonight.

“How is this supposed to be protective? Shouldn’t you be giving me some fucking oven mitts?”

Your sister was nowhere to be seen, and you were trying extra fucking hard not to scream at the staff while they squeezed you into this too-tight, leather get up. The endless straps and studs seemed to be purposely placed in the least comfortable places.

“I assure you, Miss Sylvad, this outfit will be highly protective.”

That voice came wafting over from the corner, Uncle’s favorite assistant finally breaking her silence when she slinked toward you. Her unnervingly straight hair was almost hypnotizing as it swayed with her movements.

You scowled at her.

“Funny, I’ve never seen a chef in leather before.”

“Then you haven’t been in the right kitchen,” she teased. “Bethany, please demonstrate to Miss Sylvad how to undress on her own, just in case. Baking can be so messy.”

Darla reached out to touch one of the dangling zippers along your side, and you almost gave in. Almost lunged for her fucking throat.

“It’s been almost two years now, hasn’t it,” you asked instead, letting true pity coat your voice.

“Since what, Miss Sylvad,” she smirked. She was still too fucking close.

“Since you became his favorite,” you soothed, patting her shoulder. “Better set aside all the berry you can now, Darla. When Uncle drops people, they tend not to get back up.”

“There’s no need to be cruel, sweetie,” your mother breezed in with a smoothie. She took a sip while she walked up to you, giving the assistant no choice but to move out of the way.

You were too busy getting a brain freeze to spit one of your usual retorts, although the urge to ask about your sister nearly pushed past the discomfort.

~~~

The courtyard filled with applause at the sight of you, and your Sylvad smile deepened when you imagined the most satisfying ways to silence the vultures. The huge screen showed you strutting down the path, which was the only way you could fucking walk in that domestic dominatrix outfit.

They’d even given you a tiny, studded apron.

Breathe. Just breathe. Don’t let it in.

There she was.

Kat was staring at you, her face comically shocked, and you hoped your own shock didn’t show.

Your sister was seated with the Vinsmoke family, and the brothers seemed to be caught in a loop of gawking at you, and returning their attention to her. Their lustful, puppy dog eyes were comical on their own, but watching them look at her like that flashed too many feelings through you that you didn’t have time to name.

Yeah, it would be weird to marry her favorite.

“May I offer you a ride, Miss Sylvad?”

“A ride,” you asked, almost squeaking when that velvety voice draped over you. You’d been so distracted by your sister, you hadn’t realized that the massive pillars you were heading toward were covered in leather and spurs.

And waiting for you.

“A ride...”

Your head barely reached above his knees, which happened to have deadly looking spikes on them, pointed straight for your throat. Thankfully, Katakuri shifted them away before he kneeled down. He waited for your nod, then grabbed you so gently around the middle, and it took everything in you not to squeal when you soared through the air.

“You can hold onto this if you like, but I promise that I will catch you if you fall.”

“Mhm, thank you,” you hummed nervously to the side of his face, clinging to another large spike on his shoulder that was hidden beneath his scarf.

It was surprisingly warm this high up as you perched on the heat of his body. The feathers of his scarf were comfortable, slightly tickling around you.

“Are you afraid of heights?”

“I think I’m supposed to be,” you joked, earning what you thought was a smile beneath all those feathers. “I don’t know why I thought you’d be taller than these trees.”

“I’m not a giant, Y/N.”

What a voice… If you weren’t scared of getting knocked off of his shoulder by a branch, you might have passed out.

“Just, uh, king-sized then?”

That crimson eye turned its attention to you, and his next words almost did knock you out.

“I hope that you’ll find me… husband-sized, Miss Sylvad. May I set you down?”

“Mhm,” was all you could manage, until you were clinging to his hand again. Your date held you aloft while he sat cross legged on a grassy hill, setting you down in front of the strangest kitchen equipment you’d ever seen. There were two sets of everything for your different sizes, all in neon colors that looked surreal under the golden sky.

Your grin faded for a second when you noticed the staff and their snails in the surrounding trees, but you shook it off.

“What are we making?”

~~~

You were so messy.

“They don’t have to be perfect, Y/N,” Katakuri chuckled while you struggled to shape your dough into circles. “And we need to let the dough rise for an hour before we fry them.”

“An hour?”

“Good things take time.”

He motioned you toward the sink, and you washed yourself up before giggling while you held out the hose for him. His soapy water slid down the side of the hill, and your mind flashed an image of you leaping onto it like a water slide.

“This is a good laugh. I hope to hear more of this one from you.”

Katakuri had frozen you again, your laughter fading while you watched him dry his hands on a towel the size of a rug.

You never thought you’d feel smaller than you had with…

No.

Buggy had a real name.

You’d gotten rid of the names from before. “First love.” “Second love.” They weren’t real.

But what should you call them?

Nothing. Stop thinking about them.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” you took a breath, fixing your fucking face. “I’m just thinking about our doughnuts. We really have to wait an hour?”

“Would you like to go somewhere while we wait,” Katakuri’s voice rumbled over you until you shivered. “I can give us some privacy so we can speak freely.”

Privacy.

With this “not a giant,” giant man. A very pretty, giant man.

“I’d like that.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

They had all known this was going to happen, that Y/N would have to date the other men before she could leave with him.

Yet Shanks couldn’t stop feeling like a failure, so he latched onto any idea that might help him fix this.

His current idea was making him sick, but not as sick as Buggy must feel, listening to—

“Looks like we’re not the only ones hoping for a peek,” the red haired Vinsmoke laughed to his brothers.

Shanks needed to get his shit together. He’d noticed the three men before they emerged from the trees, but he’d forgotten why he should care about them.

Normally, they wouldn’t be a threat to him.

The blue haired one stepped up to smirk at him, and Shanks was almost sure his name was Niji.

“The Emperor of the Sea wanted another look, eh,” the blue one asked. “Didn't get enough of our little princess last night? Well, that’s a good sign. I’m looking forward to having a taste for myself.”

“Looks like we’re out of luck,” the green one— Yonji complained, pointing through the trees toward a large hill.

Shanks looked away from the princes so he wouldn’t hurt them. He couldn’t fight, couldn’t risk getting kicked out.

He couldn’t see her through that dome of mochi the massive pirate had caged her in.

She’s okay. She has to be.

“There might not be enough left of her to taste when he’s done with her.”

Shanks had to leave before he killed them, finding his own reclusive spot to stare at the giant wall between him, and the woman his two lovers loved.

Buggy was listening. Or maybe she wasn’t wearing the locket?

It was a small hope that did nothing for his guilt, or the well-deserved hate he’d planted in her.

Mihawk’s golden eyes filled his mind, tears making them impossibly beautiful when he apologized.

When he finally said it back.

It felt like hours went by while he watched that unmoving room. Useless.

I’ve never had… She helped Hawk open up. She made Buggy feel loved. It was her.

Shanks hit the back of his head against the tree he’d leaned on, until he remembered all of those cam-snails in the forest.

So the Emperor tried his best to imitate her. To put on that face. To pretend that everything was alright.

He had no idea how she hid so well. Shanks’ own hidden truths were stuffed so far down that he almost didn’t believe them himself, but she had to lie with every breath.

Y/N has a strength I never knew someone might need. Not like this.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

He wondered how many hours of his life had been drained away in dingy taverns just like this one. Hiding in the darkest corner, a book with a dragon on the cover still unread in his hand, the World’s Greatest Swordsman listened.

Mihawk didn’t expect to hear anything of note here, but he’d landed at Majiatsuka just early enough to book a room for the night. He couldn’t think about anything besides his need to protect her, and resisting his need to hop back on his boat, and go straight there.

“Hey, did you catch the feed tonight,” a red faced patron called out as two other drunks joined his table.

“Shh, Jacob, don’t say that shit so loud,” the one on the right laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You know the whole thing’s illegal, right?”

“Yeah,” the one on the left spat, “and I know for a fact those assholes would only get a slap on the wrist, but poor folks like us? I don’t wanna know what kinda fine we’d get if we’re caught watching.”

That unread book was shut.

“I really hope they show the good stuff soon,” Right complained, leaning forward with a hushed, slimy tone. “Can you imagine what that giant dick must have done to that rich slut’s cunt?”

“Oh yeah,” Left agreed with a laugh. “I imagined it plenty of times after the feed last night. Can’t wait for that whore to—“

“Jacob, was it?”

Mihawk shoved Left’s headless body to the floor, stealing his chair to sit across from the whimpering man. He ignored the screams while the place cleared out, and he ignored Right’s headless body that was leaking blood onto the sticky table.

He had dirtied Yoru on their weak blood, so he cleaned his blade while Jacob pissed himself.

“Would you like to tell me everything you know about that feed, Jacob,” Mihawk drawled, more death waiting to pour from him. Endless death until he held her again. “Or…”

“I-I’ll tell you, please sir, p-plea—“

“Don’t waste my time, Jacob. Tell me about the feed.”

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

"I'd like that."

His eyes looked even prettier when you said those words.

He’s still a hunter. He’s still using you. Don’t forget.

“I’m going to use my devil fruit power to create a room around us. No one will be able to see or hear us, but I promise to lower it whenever you wish.”

He’s so careful with me. This leech must really want to win.

Your consent had hardly left your lips before your world became soft and pale, his power enveloping the entire hilltop, including the little kitchen and lamp posts that came with it. He'd kept everything except for the rotating pedestals that the nearest cam-snails had been perched on.

The smell in the air was slightly sweet, but the feeling of being trapped still crept in, almost leaving your throat in a scream.

“It’s alright, Miss Sylvad. I’ll drop it right now if you want me to, but I’d like to talk without the surveillance. I won’t move. I won’t touch you.”

Katakuri’s voice had lost the slight tease he’d been giving you, speaking in an almost businesslike tone.

So he’s good at pretending too.

“Thank you, Katakuri,” you mirrored his tone. “What would you like to speak with me about?”

Here it was. The old, familiar rhythm of negotiation that your dad had spent so many years making sure you understood.

“My little sister has been kidnapped by Emperor Blackbeard. Since my mother was defeated, I am ashamed to admit that we are not equipped to get her back on our own. Pudding is only sixteen, Y/N,” he urged, enough emotion in his words to make you pause, even with your determination to keep him out.

“I’m so sorry, but how can—“

“My family needs this marriage to happen, but I wanted you to know my true intentions. Please, marry one of us, Y/N. With the financial support your uncle has promised, we’ll be able to afford to bring an army with us to get her back.”

Those pretty eyes were urgent now. Almost desperate.

“There is nothing more important to me than protecting my family,” he whispered, although his voice was too large to feel quiet. “I swear that we will care for you. We will protect you with our lives. I’ll get you away from these people, Y/N. You’re an older sister, are you not?”

“Yes, but I’m… I’m sorry, but I can’t make any promises yet. Thank you for telling me the truth.”

A heavy fear gripped your heart, your whole body fighting not to shake beneath this man’s fierce request.

He needed this.

What will he do to get it?

“I understand,” he nodded, taking a breath that could have sucked the air from the room. “We need you, but our relationship doesn’t need to be for duty alone. May I return to showing you the kind of husband I will be?”

“I’d like that.”

The truth of that surprised you, and you would have scolded yourself, but he moved. Stretching out his long legs, he laid on his side, propped up on his elbow.

“You didn’t choose these clothes,” he noted, almost a tease.

“How could you tell?”

Sarcasm, seriously? I really am insane.

“Leather molds to your body when it’s worn regularly. You don’t look very comfortable in that.”

Heat shivered through you, and his eyes went a bit wide.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I wasn’t trying to—“

Laughter filled that sweet, soft room, a dam of tension breaking loose, and you would have joined him on the ground if your outfit wasn’t so stiff.

“Oh,” you caught your breath, “I’m laughing because you were right, not because I wouldn’t…”

Holy shit, I want to fuck him. There’s that fucking death wish again.

“What have you heard about me, Miss Sylvad?”

Absolutely nothing. Totally blank. Your brain couldn’t recall a single thought until you looked away from him, pacing over the soft ground.

“You’re a Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates,” you started listing the few details you could remember. “You ate the Mochi Mochi fruit. Your bounty is over a billion berries. Uh, you’re not a giant.”

You shrugged when you turned back toward him, and almost lost your thoughts again.

“Oh, and you never lie on your… Are you a side sleeper, then?”

Tingles danced over your skin while Katakuri laughed full out, an overwhelming sound. He leaned his head back, the feathers that covered his face moving with his breath.

“Why didn’t I think of that,” he rasped, still chuckling. “Would have been more comfortable than all the walls I’ve slept against.”

He sighed at the confusion on your face before rolling onto his back.

“So, you do lie on your back, but you sleep sitting up,” you frowned as you walked closer, almost reaching out to touch him.

“It was a lie I told to protect my siblings. A sacrifice that has made me strong for them, but always alone.”

“I’m sorry, Katakuri,” you reached out now, smoothing your palm over the pink skull tattooed on his arm.

“Don’t be,” he hummed, seeming so relaxed while he laid before you. “I recently lost a good battle, and it’s made me wonder if there are better ways that I can be a good brother.”

“Must have been one hell of a fight if Charlotte Katakuri is on his back for a stranger.”

You leaned against his arm, hoping that he’d take the playful tease. All the talk of protecting his siblings was taking your mind to places you’d rather not go.

You’d rather be following that death wish of yours.

“I don’t want you to be a stranger,” he whispered as he rolled back onto his side to look at you. “I want to take you away from these people. I want you to meet my sister, and we can bring yours with us. We can protect them both.”

“I don’t—“

“But my goal for tonight is to help you relax.”

There was absolutely no way you could relax.

“You’ve been doing so well, carrying whatever this weight is that your family has given you,” Katakuri praised. The touch of his fingers along your arm, and stroking down your back, felt dreamlike. Everything was strange and fuzzy.

“Thank you.”

“I have one more thing to share,” he rasped, taking back his hand to touch his scarf. “Hiding was something else I did for a sister. I think that reason is gone now, so all I’m left with are my own fears.”

“Is it fangs,” you breathed, trying to be light. “That’s what my guess is, which is totally fine! I’d be more freaked out if you had puppies under there or something.”

“Puppies,” he huffed a laugh, cocking his head.

“I don’t know,” you squeaked, unable to shut yourself up. “Is it scars? I thought I saw… you know, I actually think that scars are—“

“Cute.”

“Uh, y-yeah,” you froze as a very large finger tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “That’s not the word I was thinking of, but they can be…”

“You are very cute, Y/N,” Katakuri hummed, and your mind blanked out again. “May I show you?”

You remembered how to nod, and luckily you’d already prepared yourself for what your suitor might be hiding.

That scarf was a small mountain of feathers when he removed it, all that softness gone, and replaced with sharp fangs, and scars that stretched from the corners of his lips to above his ears on either side. His fangs seemed almost like tusks, jutting out to stretch over his lips.

Then he opened his mouth.

“So I was right on both counts,” you gave a nervous smile at the sight of all of the sharp teeth in that mouth, not just the four large fangs that he couldn’t hide. “Do I win a prize?”

You knew that you’d been right about when he’d smiled before as you watched his whole face move with it now.

“Well, I believe it’s almost time to fry our doughnuts.”

~~~

“Mm, fuck! That’s so good, Katakuri.”

He laughed at you then, tossing the rest of the massive doughnuts into his wide mouth that seemed just a little less dangerous when it was filled with sweets.

You still had a plate of the smaller, glazed pastries, but the numbers were dwindling.

“This has been a lovely date,” you hummed, honestly feeling good for the moment. Katakuri had taken your mind away for a while, and it was a gift.

“Would you like it to be over,” he checked in, his brow arching even higher while he scanned you.

He’s still so pretty.

He made you shy, but you were bold enough to shake your head.

“Then would it be alright if I looked at you, pretty thing?”

Holy shit…

Katakuri had barely grazed your hip with his finger, but his voice went so deep, so dark, that you threw your head back, knees almost buckling.

He chuckled, helping you stay balanced while you struggled with all of the stiff bits of leather strapped to your body.

Your locket fell out from where you’d stuffed it into the tight material, and you tried to leave it on the ground. You really tried to leave it behind.

It was a chain of guilt and brightness around your neck, and the best you could do was carry it with you while you tried not to think about drifting further and further away from that daydream of a life.

“You are so beautiful, Y/N. May I create a bed for you so that I can see you better?”

Soon you were lifted up, perched on a mattress made of mochi that was too high for you to relax completely, until you forgot all about it.

“You want me to touch you, don’t you, Y/N,” he asked in that tone that sent you reeling. He had set you up a little higher than his shoulders, and he leaned over you, his face so close as he took in a breath. “Gods, you smell so sweet.”

Why am I already whimpering?

“I’m going to touch you now, but let me know—“

“Touch me, Katakuri, please!”

The sound he made when you begged made you arch your back, but then you were gasping, fear creeping back in as he spread your legs. He held your thighs apart with his hands while he stared at you like you were a treat for him to eat.

“I’ll be careful,” he breathed, a soothing threat while his sharp mouth hung open at the sight of you. “I’ll keep my head right here. Let me taste you, please. Let me fuck my tongue into you. I’ll be so—”

“Please! Gods, please— oh gods, oh f-fuck.”

Katakuri…

Katakuri’s tongue felt so good, so insanely good. You’d never thought to imagine what a tongue that size could do, but the press of it, the strength, the size, had you twitching and begging within seconds.

And he’d told the truth. He was so careful. Careful to hold your twitching legs so they wouldn’t go near his fangs. Careful to keep his mouth away from your skin, just his tongue reaching out.

That was all he needed.

“Kata-Katakuri…”

The precision he had was unbelievable. The flick of that huge tongue kept finding your clit over and over, and his pleased moans vibrated through you like a toy, an incredible toy. Then he did what you’d begged for.

Your nails looked so small digging into the back of his hands. He went slow, but soon his tongue was inside you, making you forget the world again.

“Don’t stop,” you begged weakly, surprised you could speak at all while the mochi bed sank toward the ground.

“We don’t have to stop,” he promised, smiling down at you while he traced his fingers over your skin. “But the bells are ringing outside. I believe our time is up.”

You whined.

“Does this mean that you’d like to see me again,” he laughed while you still struggled to move.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to answer that,” came your grumbled response.

“Mm, what about now?”

Katakuri had brought you one of those giant towels, but he dropped it to trace his finger all the way up your thigh, barely touching the twitching, needy flesh he’d just tasted.

“Fuck, yes. Please.”

“Good girl. I’m gonna take such good care of you, Y/N. My cute, little bride.”

~~~

No favorites. No least favorites.

Over and over and over.

You hadn’t expected to have any favorites, and you were pissed that you already seemed to have them mapped out.

Uncle Cedrick would use it against you, so it was better not to care either way, but your stupid brain wouldn’t stop.

Katakuri had joined your family for breakfast, so polite as he sat on the grass by the patio.

“What is your role, Kathryn?”

“Role,” Kat frowned at him.

“Position,” he tried again, glancing at you. “What do you do?”

“Kathryn is invested in her family,” Cedrick bragged, before scowling at you for speaking at the same time.

“Kat’s been studying business. Have you started your masters program yet,” you asked cheerfully, hating yourself for not asking sooner.

“No,” she mumbled as she caught your uncle’s gaze. “Too much family stuff going on.”

…

“I brought you all some doughnuts.”

~~~

Today’s hunt was for the “truth.” It had been your choice, but you were sick of this shit already.

“You’re a dog person,” Niji declared while his eyes traveled down your body.

“Well, I love dogs, but we’ve always had—“

“You don’t like spicy food.”

Oh thank gods, the bells.

~~~

Each hunter had to submit a list of their own questions, along with their guesses at what your answers would be. A lazy idea, but it was giving you a glimpse into what they thought of you.

“You really like my brother.”

“I don’t think it’s fair for me to answer that either way,” you teased.

How does he keep his hair from burning with those sparks?

Cracker gave you another maniacal grin, his bare chest like a wall that kept you from checking your Uncle’s expression. Yours was on display again, spread across the side of the building, so you did your best to school it.

“That’s alright. Everyone likes my brother. But you… You’re a picky eater.”

You gave him the win. It was true enough when it came to the food your family served.

~~~

“Redwoods are your favorite trees.”

“That’s right, Mr… Iceburg,” you smiled. You still hadn’t trained yourself to hate him for being here, for being a leech. He was still Mr. Iceburg in your mind, and that held too much weight.

He’d guessed the most truths so far, and that teenage crush of yours wanted to crush all of your caution away when he patted you on the head at the end of his turn.

Stupid brain.

~~~

“You like cookies.”

“I’m not sure if that counts, Emperor Shanks,” you flirted while you planned his gruesome death.

“You’re right, who doesn’t like cookies,” he smiled that infuriatingly charming smile. “I think that you like to dance, but might need a little more practice.”

More images flashed in your mind. Too fast. Too real.

His pulse against your skin. His strong fingers controlling you, digging into your hip while he pressed himself—

The ringing of those bells was your new favorite sound.

“I’ll give you that one, Shanks.”

You covered your hate with fluttering lashes, and a gentle bite to the lip that he always loved to stare at.

He wasn’t staring at it today.

Hot rage turned to icy fear when you saw that look in his soft eyes. Like he was seeing too far, too deep.

What did he see?

~~~

Giberson already smelled like whiskey when he folded his lanky body into the chair across from you. You were more jealous than anything else, wishing that you could numb this shitty lunch away.

“How are you doing, my dear?”

“Well, thank you, sir.”

“Oh no,” he laughed, that sharp smell getting stronger when he opened his mouth too wide. “Just call me Gibby. That’s what my friends call me.”

“Of course, Gibby,” you smiled. You knew you could do this. You could feel all the eyes on your skin. Appeasing an old man was nothing.

Just boring.

“Alright, where should we begin?”

The old man cleared his throat loudly, squinting at a notebook he’d pulled from his jacket, the silk lining gleaming in the sun.

“You received your degrees from Pucci University. Excellent school,” he hummed while you tried not to frown. “I would have expected a Sylvad to attend an older institution, given your connections, but I’m sure that the food alone had to be worth it. Did you enjoy your time in the Gourmet City?”

“I did...”

“Well, let’s keep going. We are on a time limit after all, and I’ve been looking forward to having you all to myself,” he winked before diving back into his notebook.

The Concealer. Information broker. Emperor of the Underworld.

What the fuck did he find?

“Ahh, you worked at Polestar Principal Bank, I believe? Upstanding establishment, and just a ferry ride away from Loguetown too. Did you meet any interesting pirates when you weren’t making the rich even richer?”

“W-well—“

“And I noticed that your family always moved with you when you went to a new island,” Giberson beamed, flicking the paper while he nodded. “I just love those strong family bonds. Shows true value.”

Smile. That was a compliment.

You didn’t believe the lie, but hoped that your face sold it while shame poured through you. Your eyes darted over to your sister against your will, finding her strained smile to reinforce your guilt.

Wherever you moved, your family had followed, dropping Kat’s life away every time.

“You enjoy reading fantasy novels, eating spicy food, and you’ve always loved cats.”

“Yes, I—“

“St. Poplar is your family’s original home. I saw that you attended St. Poplar Private School, but took a year off for independent studies before you returned to graduate at the top of your class. It’s strange though, I couldn’t find a scrap of information about that year, and it’s been bothering me for weeks now. Were you traveling abroad? I didn’t find any records of travel, or salaries for home tutors, or…”

Breathing. Were you breathing?

Eyes. So many eyes.

“Oh, dearie me,” Giberson sighed, setting down his evil notebook. “Please, forgive an old man his forgetfulness. That was after your father passed, was it not? Well, I’m grateful that you were able to take that time to be with your family, and I’m so sorry for—“

“It’s fine,” you lied in a voice that was too high, and too fucking fragile. “Do you have any other truths to guess?”

“It’s not a guess if it’s the truth,” Giberson teased while he raised his boozy drink, the ringing of bells coming to your rescue too late. “You are the loveliest, little lady in the New World.”

~~~

Having private conversations in front of servants had never felt comfortable, but this shit show kept leaving you with no other choice.

Tonight’s outfit was thankfully close to “normal” clothes, but hair and makeup were still taking too long to wait for privacy, and Kat had started first.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday.”

You snorted at her little grimace, knowing that you were probably the only person she ever apologized to.

“Sorry, it’s all good,” you appeased her narrowed eyes.

Your sister had clearly been making an effort to be positive around you since you arrived, but it was comforting to see her being more herself.

“Did you have a good time with the Vinsmokes?”

“Yeah, it was alright,” Kat brushed off, but she pinched her fingers together in her lap, and that odd guilt crept back in. “How was your date with Katakuri?”

“It was surprisingly lovely,” you rushed, ignoring her raised brows while you pushed on. “Do you not want me to marry a Vinsmoke? Because I can try not to end up with your favorite. I wouldn’t want you to—“

“Stop worrying about me,” your sister scolded, shaking her head while she huffed a laugh. “I actually wouldn’t mind being their sister-in-law. I’d love to go see their tech. Fucking hover boots? Honestly, you should marry one of them just for the shoes. I think you’d like their sister too, I hope you get to meet her soon. Their dad seems like a dick, but…”

The lead makeup artist caught your scowl when he blocked your view, so he turned your spinning chair, letting you see your sister’s flustered face.

“Are you sure,” you checked in again, too much guilt to stamp out so quickly.

“Would you shut the fuck up already,” Kat rolled her eyes. “You’re about to go on a date with a two story tall merman. I don’t need you to protect my feelings. I don’t even have any feelings about this, alright? I promise.”

…

“Cut it out,” she groaned at your searching eyes, “and tell me all about your lovely date with that giant, leather boy.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

kitty kat’s gonna wake up.

Loud noises had woken you. Loud, angry noises.

“You really think I can’t do math, Delaine?” Daddy’s voice sounded scary. “Whatever that thing is in there, it’s not mine.”

“Please, Arbo.” Mommy was crying. “Kathryn was premature, you heard what the doctor said.”

Mommy and Daddy were fighting about little Kitty Kat.

“Doctors that accept bribes tend to accept even higher bribes, wife.”

You couldn’t open the crib, and you knew you shouldn’t. You weren’t strong enough, or tall enough to climb inside with your little sister, so you dragged one of your chairs over to stand on, and reached your hands through the bars.

“It’s okay, Kitty Kat,” you whispered as you covered her tiny ears, pressing your face between the wooden bars to watch her breathe.

You didn’t want Sissy to be scared.

“Since you’re done denying it, why don’t you tell me who you were out fucking when you should have been with our daughter? How often did you leave her with the governess so you could go sink your claws into some other poor bastard?”

Daddy sounded mad, and sad.

“And where were you, husband?” That didn’t sound like Mommy. She sounded mean. “You expect me to wait around for months while you're out working, only for you to bore me to death when you grace us with your presence? Oh, please, Arbo! I just need to hear another one of your math stories. Please–”

why are they hurting each other? why won’t they stop?

“Shh, Kitty Kat, everything’s gonna be okay.” Sissy was starting to make little noises, and you couldn’t let her hear.

“Who was it?”

“Arbo–”

“WHOSE BABY IS THAT, DELAINE?”

“Daddy… Shh, Sissy. We’re okay.”

“S–Samson. It was Samson. Please, don’t hurt him, Arbo.”

“I’m not going to hurt the fucking chauffeur.” Daddy laughed. Scary laughs. Sad laughs. “I’m going to do him a favor, and make sure he never has to see your face again. Set him up with a nice job on the other side of the fucking planet.”

“Thank–”

“Don’t you dare thank me. You know what? You’ve got two choices, Delaine. Take his baby, and go live out your happy life with that unlucky chauffeur, or get your shit together, and pretend.”

“What–”

“If you want to keep being ‘Mrs. Sylvad,’ which I know you love more than your own family, then you need to put in the fucking work. Think you can do that, Delaine? Can you pretend to be a loving mother? A happy wife? That’s all I’ll ever ask of you, since I know there’s no real heart in that hollow chest of yours. Can you pretend?”

…

“Of course, Arbo, dear.” That sounded like Mommy. “I’ll do anything to make things right. Whatever will make you happy.”

“Just keep pretending. I’m taking my daughter to the East wing.”

“But… of course, husband. Let me know if I can help with anything.”

~~~

“Hi, sweet– oh, angel, no! Shh, shh, Daddy’s here.”

Daddy rushed toward you, wiping your tears as he pulled you away from Sissy’s crib. He looked scared, and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying.

He carried you out before you woke her up, walking so fast until you were far away when he set you down.

“Daddy’s so sorry, sweetheart. We didn’t mean to scare you. You were protecting your– protecting Kathryn, weren’t you?”

“Why were you and Mommy so loud?”

Daddy was crying.

“We were just talking, sweetheart, we’re okay. Everything’s okay, Y/N, I promise.”

Daddy was lying.

“Okay, Daddy.”

i can pretend for daddy. i can help him be happy again.

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

The scene above is from the reader’s POV as a small child. She woke up to hear her parents arguing loudly about her baby sister, so she reached through the bars of the crib to cover Kat’s ears so she wouldn’t wake up, and get scared.

During the argument, Arbo accused Delaine of cheating, and asked who Kat’s father was. She admitted to the infidelity after Arbo implied that he had bribed the doctor she had bribed to keep it a secret. She told him that it was Samson, their chauffeur.

Arbo accused Delaine of neglecting the reader during her affair, while Delaine accused Arbo of expecting her to wait for months, and of “boring her” when he returned from business trips.

Arbo gave Delaine the option to take Kat, and go live with the chauffeur, or continue to be “Mrs. Sylvad,” by pretending to be a good wife and mother, and stated that he believed she cared more about that than her own family. Delaine agreed to pretend.

From the reader’s very young POV, she noticed that they both cried at different times, that Arbo often sounded mad, scary, or sad, and that Delaine sounded mean, and then “like Mommy again,” after she agreed to pretend.

Arbo came to get his daughter to stay with him in the East wing, and found the reader with her hands over Kat’s ears. He panicked and carried the reader away. He apologized for scaring her, and told the reader that they had just been talking, and that everything was okay.

The very young reader knew that he was lying, but decided that she would pretend too, so that she could help her dad be happy again.

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

This prince was already out of the game, but you were good at pretending. It helped that your costume for Fukaboshi’s date made you feel like a princess instead of a sex doll.

The crowd was still applauding while the platform lifted you into the air. Your light, flowy dress moved like gentle waves in the breeze, matching the shifting, ocean colors of the fabric.

You could have gone without all the shells in your hair, and the iridescent scales that were painted around your temples, your shoulders, and along the backs of your hands and wrists.

Fukaboshi’s soft smile was worth it though, as soft as shark teeth could be.

“Good evening, Y/N,” he tilted his head toward you, his mane of hair falling forward like glittering curtains. “You are as beautiful as sunlight on the water.”

No favorites. No least favorites.

~~~

“How did you know this was my favorite spot,” you beamed, trying not to feel woozy on the platform that had been perched atop your favorite cliff.

“I merely searched for the most beautiful waves on the island. You must know these waters well,” Fukaboshi praised, filling you with a strange pride for such a small thing.

You did know them well.

Fukaboshi’s people treated you like a princess, doting on you like you were already theirs. They caught and cooked your food before the sky grew dark. There was music, and stories, and dancers, and it should have been lovely, but with every moment, the tide crept further in.

Soon the waves were crashing loudly along the staggered cliffs, just barely reaching over the edge in a cascade of white that would grow and grow.

It had always been your favorite spot to scream.

“They are no longer listening to us.”

“Hmm?”

“I spoke too loudly the other day, didn’t I,” the prince sighed, glancing around at the now empty cliff. “My mother was never quiet in the face of injustice, but it seems that I have lost my chance now. You will be sending me home soon, will you not?”

Your mouth opened, but you took too long to lie.

“They are not listening, but I understand your caution. I want you to know that even if I do not get the resources my people need, I will still help you. We can leave right now, if you wish.”

Fear, hope, grief, and guilt all hit your veins like poison until you almost cried out in pain. Yet, you smiled. Not your Sylvad smile, but a true, sad curve to your lips before you could answer.

“I am so grateful for the offer, Fukaboshi, but I have to stay. I have my own responsibilities, and I won’t abandon them again.”

Silence rolled in, gentler than the growing tide.

“It may seem a strange thing to say given our situation, but you remind me of my mother.”

“Oh?” You didn’t know what kind of smile to give.

The merman pulled a locket the size of your face from a satchel at his side, and you turned to let the soft lights of the lanterns below show you what it held.

“That’s your… mom?” You’d left out the rudest word in that shocked sentence, but there was absolutely no way that tiny woman could have physically birthed him. No way she could have been with the person who had to be King Neptune, his face not even in the picture because he towered over her so thoroughly. “She was beautiful.”

“Yes,” he nodded slowly, looking at the picture before tucking it away. “But she was also strong. Fearless.”

Your memory finally kicked in, and Queen Otohime’s assassination formed into something real, not just words on a page.

“I apologize,” Fukaboshi smiled. “You are carrying a weight, and I have added more.”

“No, it’s fine,” you didn’t lie. Sometimes just seeing pain that looked like yours felt like relief, a tiny respite from loneliness. Still, you tried to make things light. “I’ve been wondering about that bubble around your waist. Is it like the ones at Sabaody? I didn’t think they could last this far from the mangrove.”

Why am I so bad at making things light?

“So you’ve been to the archipelago,” the prince questioned. There was just a hint of anger in his words, but that hint felt very large as it shook through his enormous form.

“I… we have a home there. It was mainly for business, but my dad would always bring me so I could see the trees. I haven’t been there since I was a kid.”

Sweet memories of bubble rides turned vile when you remembered how privileged you were.

“Well, I hope that you did not have to witness what my people are subjected to there. Children should be protected from such ugliness. Unfortunately, the rest of the world seems to ignore or relish in that ugliness, and my people suffer the price.”

“I’m so sorry, Fukaboshi.”

The stars were difficult to see on the water now, the tide slamming against the cliffs again and again until the air was filled with salt. The prince stared at the spray, his fists clenching, almost shaking, and you hated that you could do nothing for him besides letting him leave, or getting him killed.

“My sister was chained while the celestial demons laughed at her tears,” he growled, shaking the wood beneath your feet. “I was forced to watch in silence with the crowd of cowards that are meant to govern this world. They were going to make her their pet!”

This terrifying, two story tall prince bared his teeth, raging at the sky, yet you were still far more afraid of the people he despised.

“The Dragons…”

“There is no way for me to salvage this, is there,” Fukaboshi implored, his breath heavy.

You took too long to lie.

“Let me help you, at least,” he begged, dipping his head toward you. “I cannot see your chains, but I know that they are there. These monsters are using you for their entertainment. I don’t want to leave you here like this.”

Living under the sea might have been nice.

“Thank you,” you choked out. You couldn’t afford to feel this. Even without the eyes on you, you couldn’t afford to cry anymore.

You might never stop.

“I’m sorry, but I have to stay. I left before, and…” Stop it. That crack in your voice was too much. You had to stop.

Bells.

They were distant, but ringing closer while you stared into the eyes of a truly good man that you wanted to send home this instant. He didn’t deserve to rot with these leeches. This prince needed to get as far away from you and your Sylvad smile as possible.

“It has been an honor to meet you, Y/N,” Fukaboshi hummed before the leeches and their snails arrived. “If you ever need a friend in the water, you will find a country’s worth when I tell my people of your kindness and strength.”

“Please, I haven’t done anything to deserve such high praise.”

“I would not survive a challenge such as this, yet you face it with a warrior’s will,” he praised, filling you with a strange pride for such a lie. “I hope that your responsibilities do not keep you from finding true happiness.”

There was no time to answer before your privacy was stripped away again, so the prince joined you in silence. The tide carried your rage for you, violent sprays of white dancing along the cliff.

It would have felt so good to scream, but at least you knew that another kind soul existed in this world.

At least you knew that he’d be free of you soon.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

“What the fuck are you doing, mom?”

“Y/N, please, calm down,” your mom tried to soothe while you grabbed her nearest belongings to throw against the wall.

You hadn’t been in this manor since you were little, and hated that you had to step into it now. College was supposed to be your escape, but they’d all just picked up and followed you to the nearest family property. You tried to pretend they didn’t exist, but your last call with Kitty had sent you into a rage.

“She’s only in high school, mom, she’s still a kid! I really thought you cared more for her, but you don’t give a fuck, do you? All you do is pretend.”

“Y/N, you have no idea what the world is really like,” she condescended, her chin lifting just a bit. “You have no idea what I have had to–”

“Save your sob story for someone who gives a fuck, mother,” you snarled in her face.

It probably should have worried you how satisfying her gasp felt when she backed up against the wall. Nowhere to hide from your anger now.

“If you let him marry her off, especially to a fucking Dragon, then you won’t get a single berry from me. So figure it out, mom. Will you get more money from selling your youngest daughter or your oldest daughter, because you can’t do both, you greedy bitch.”

All that satisfying fear on her face melted away, leaving Mommy with her perfect smile.

“Of course, sweetie. I’ll try to convince him to wait, but your uncle just wants what’s best for her, and for our family.”

“I don’t care,” you breathed rage against her mask. “I’ll kill you both before I let one of those monsters touch her. I’ll make you poor, and dead. Don’t forget, your daughter’s not well!”

A satisfying hint of fear showed in her eyes before you walked away, harsh laughter following you through the halls.

Your laughter.

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

That was a lot.

A giggle left your throat at the dumb thought, and at the sound of all the shells falling from your hair beneath the too hot water.

I’m not strong. Not kind. Not brave.

The sick guilt in your heart made you want to run across the island to find the prince and beg his forgiveness for making him think that you were anything more than a selfish, entitled, rich girl. You weren’t doing anything special.

Just trying to fix your mistake. Your failure.

Trying to run from the cowardice and selfishness that had haunted you since you tried to run the first time.

Then the second time.

And the third time was the charm.

So selfish. Selfish piece of shit. I just left her. Abandoned her.

You tried to take the locket off. It was comfort and torture.

It was proof that true love existed, and it was a reminder of what a disgustingly selfish bitch you were. You had left your sister to the wolves, so you could go have an adventure, and let a bunch of pirates fuck you like a whore.

The warm metal dug into your palm as you gripped it, but you couldn’t take it off.

My last selfish thing.

You pleaded with yourself, bargaining with your own thoughts as you crumpled to the floor in defeat. Sobs built up in your throat, and you didn’t have the strength to fight them.

Never again. I won’t be selfish again.

I’ll protect her.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡~~~

“So what were your big, evil plans?”

“What are you asking me,” Crocodile arched a brow at the man. He tugged on Buggy’s hair, his lips curving into a smile before he caught a hint of fear in those crystal eyes.

He didn’t want to see that fear anymore, especially since his brave, little clown kept trying. Buggy had even told him about Red Hair’s shit with Y/N’s father yesterday, because “secrets keep fucking shit up.”

His clown had made him promise not to kill the pretty boy, though. Not for that, at least.

“Sorry, that’s a dumb question. What, uh…” Buggy panicked, remembering how grumpy the man got whenever someone mentioned Baroque Works. “Where did you grow up?”

“You wanna get to know me better, so you start with my evil plans,” Crocodile stopped laughing enough to tease. He had to hold his breath when he saw the clown grinning at him, practically glowing.

“Well, we are bad guys after all.”

“We’re not the true villains of this world,” he rasped, taking a swig of scotch before returning his hand to that lovely, blue hair. “But now our guild gets to hit back.”

“I thought Mihawk was the one with a grudge. ‘The Marine Hunter,’ right? I wonder what that’s—“

Buggy turned to ice when that large hand gripped under his chin to tilt his head up, but he melted under Crocodile’s soft gaze.

It still didn’t make any sense.

“What about you, little clown?”

“Me? I just,” Buggy cleared his throat, heat moving up his neck, his face.

This man was overwhelming.

“I wanted to find treasure,” he shrugged, the lightness leaving his voice too fast. “Now I just wanna find her.”

Crocodile’s chest felt tight every time Buggy’s voice dipped like that. Everyone was hurting. He hadn’t kept any of them safe from pain.

“I wanted to build a place, a home, where I could protect everyone I cared about from those true villains,” he recalled, the shame of that failure hitting differently now. “I wanted to keep my people safe, but I got too… All I cared about was my big, evil plan, until I didn’t have anyone left to protect.”

The silence between them was soft, and Crocodile let out a breath when a gloved hand touched his.

“Well, daddy,” Buggy soothed with a laugh, “you’ve got a bunch of freaks to look after now. Do you—“

The snail.

The one for agents. And Mihawk.

Buggy’s hands flew toward Crocodile’s giant desk to answer while they clambered off the couch.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Zala,” Crocodile relaxed, still pulling out his notepad. “What’s the mission status? Is Marianne—“

“Hey boss, it was amazing! We should definitely go on more heist missions after some PTO.”

“Are you saying the mission’s complete? You only arrived in San Faldo yesterday. How did you infiltrate it so quickly?”

Crocodile reached out to gently nudge Buggy’s nervously bouncing body parts behind him so he wouldn’t be distracted while he stared at the snail. The clown mumbled his apology, sending his fidgeting limbs to the corner of the room while his head floated above the desk.

“All I had to do was cry, and scream a little, and they locked me right up,” Marianne reported, cheerfully. “Creepy place to put an asylum, though. Every time I looked out a window I saw people in masks. Yikes.”

“Masks,” Buggy asked quietly.

“It’s that carnival city near Water 7,” Crocodile hushed, returning to his own questions. “Zala, what’s your report?”

“Marianne is right, we made a great team.”

“It was so badass, you should’ve—“

“She was able to use the fingerpaints during art therapy to color trap the staff while I used my spikes as lock picks. It was child’s play.”

“I didn’t wanna mess with the patients though, so I hope you don’t mind that we let them out. After I made all their mean nurses cry and drool first, of course. They really liked that.”

“She’s scary,” Buggy praised, impressed with the terrifying teen.

“Well, what did you find on him?”

“Oh, we didn’t find anything on the doctor,” Marianne drawled, and the sound of frantic snapping came through.

Luckily, Zala’s voice cut in before Crocodile’s veins could pop.

“There wasn’t anything useful on Dr. Vorsan, but we did find something on the CFO.”

“A lot of somethings actually.”

“Marianne, why don’t you go check on them? Make sure they're alright?”

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Buggy growled, his whole body connected now as he spoke too close to the snail.

The scarred man reached out to calm him, but felt his own sickness start to fester, coiling in his stomach.

“Well, Miss Sylvad was listed as a former patient, so we looked for her files, and she had two cabinets dedicated to her.”

“You didn’t read them, did you?”

Buggy wasn’t breathing right.

“Of course not, Mr. President,” the agent assured, some fear coming through her voice now. “We brought all of her files with us, but there’s more.”

“Definitely more,” Marianne noted, her voice sounding closer as she went on. “I’m glad we stopped for more food, they look hungry.”

“Explain.”

“Right away, sir.”

“Yes, Mr. Zer—Executive Crocodile, sir,” Marianne stuttered, finally sounding serious, but Zala took the lead.

“Some of the patient files included cam-snails with their initials and dates on the shells. I assume they’re recordings of sessions. Most patients that had recordings only had one or two snails in the group enclosure.”

“How many does she have,” Buggy choked out. He was shaking, even with Crocodile’s warm hand on his back.

“At least thirty, Mr. President,” Marianne said gently.

Gentleness couldn’t ease the chaos inside him.

“ETA,” Crocodile managed, having to pull back his own shaky hand.

“About fourteen days. The soonest would be eleven if Daz can snag us a coated ship before we meet at Sabaody. We picked up the other agents too, so we shouldn’t run into any issues getting through.”

“That’s too late. Buggy, whatever’s in there could–”

“I’m not letting random people watch Y/N’s–watch whatever’s on those snails! It’s bad enough that I’m already listening, and all those people are watching her all the time. It’s not right!”

“Sir, we did steal their encryption snail,” Zala offered. “They must have used it for patient privacy, but the white snail is ours now, and it’s already set up to transmit.”

“Transmit…”

“Yes, Mr. President. If you have a healthy pro-snail, we could securely transmit the recordings to you one at a time. We wouldn’t need to watch them ourselves.”

“No,” Buggy sneered at the larger man, who grimaced before giving orders.

“Wait for our call, agents. We’re gonna talk it out.”

“No, we’re not watching them. It’s too much!”

“Sir, there’s one more thing you should know,” Zala hurried, not pausing before she let it out. “There were instructions on care, and data transfer from old to young snails, as well as backup transmission logs dating back years. Someone else has all of these recordings.”

…

“Sir, are you still there?”

“We’ll call you back.”

~~~

“She keeps getting violated! No fucking PRIVACY! We can’t watch them without her permission, we can’t do it. Please, Crocodile,” Buggy raged through the air, until she started to cry, too far away for him to hold.

Buggy was learning how to go empty like she did, and it chilled Crocodile to the bone. He guided his clown to slump onto that green couch again, wanting to take away the pain that kept making that painted face crumple.

“Let me do it, little clown,” he whispered, kissing his temple.

“No, she wouldn’t want…” Buggy’s voice broke.

Those distant sobs were too much to take.

“Remember that night you helped me carry our girl out of Adam’s room?”

“Yeah,” he frowned, not sure if he should go along with the distraction.

“You said you wanted–”

“I am taking care of her,” the clown snarled, pulling away from the comfort his star couldn’t feel. “We shouldn’t watch.”

Crocodile leaned back, resisting his old ways that had earned him nothing but pain and loneliness.

“Our sweet girl told me something that night, Buggy,” he confessed, watching his clown’s face shift from rage to confusion. “I don’t think she meant to tell me, and she made me promise not to tell anyone.”

“So don’t–”

“I’ll never tell,” he vowed again, and might have smiled at the way Buggy’s head tilted if he didn’t need him to say yes so badly. “But I’m pretty sure I know why Y/N was in that asylum. I’ll watch the recordings, so you don’t have to, and no one else will.”

Crocodile begged now, choking on his old, miserable soul.

“Please, let me help her too, Buggy. Let me help my sweet girl.”

Buggy stared up at that frightening man, and at the hint of tears that threatened to spill down that scarred face.

He really does love her.

Now Buggy reached for the comfort that his star couldn't feel. He clung to that warmth, squeezing tighter when those hums of surprise and satisfaction vibrated through that massive body.

“Little clown…”

“Protect her,” Buggy gave in, exhaustion nearly stealing his voice. She was still sobbing in his head, still losing her fight to keep her pain inside.

“Our girl needs you. She needs her Daddy.”

~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

The ex-Warlord didn’t want to do it in here. He’d helped Y/N fall apart right over there, so beautiful in the dress Mihawk had picked out. Always so beautiful.

But it would take too long to set up another room, and he couldn’t make her wait over his own selfish wish to keep that memory untouched. Even if she never said it back, never felt it, she had opened him up. Crocodile had told his sweet girl that he loved her in this fancy conference room.

Now he’d locked himself inside that room with two snails, and a bottle of scotch, about to ruin that memory.

He couldn’t think about it while he waited. Just let the thick smoke of his cigar fill his mouth, the feel of it unable to calm him while he doodled a little bananawani in the corner of his notepad.

He never got to show her…

“Zala?”

“Yes sir, are–”

“I’m ready. Send the first transmission.”

“Right away, sir. I believe this is the oldest recording. We’ll try to go in order, but it’s a little difficult keeping them all lined up.”

“Just send it.”

~~~

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

Fifteen. She said she was fifteen when he died, so this can’t be too long after that.

The image was cleaner than it should be. All the care and transfer to young snails must have kept the recording from degrading, even after all these years.

Y/N’s young face was so clear on the projector screen, so clear that he almost walked to it, until the snail backed away from just her face, showing her at a table, slumped against the wall. Her eyes were almost crossed, staring into nothing.

Then a voice came.

‘Good morning, Y/N, it’s Dr. Vorsan. Could you repeat your name for me?’

Sick laughter poured from the child’s lips, and Crocodile felt his long-neglected heart breaking more with every second it went on.

‘I don’t need to repeat it. You know it. You all know it.’

‘Everyone here wants to help you, Y/N. We want you to get well.’

‘And I want you to fucking DIE! Haha HA!! That's right, you piece of shit, I’m going to fucking KILL YOU!! You think you can– FUCK YOU, don’t fucking touch me! DONTFUCKINGTOUCHMMMN—‘

Nurses had swarmed her, blocking his view, but not before he noticed the restraints at her wrists. Her skin looked raw, like she’d tried to tear herself free with her nails, tried to tear through her own flesh.

Crocodile didn’t notice the long lines his hook had already torn into the conference table.

He could see her again, and he memorized every face around her, every hand that held her trapped. One nurse even covered her lips until she bit them, only to let out another vile laugh before she cried.

‘No, please, don’t. Don’t touch me!’

‘It’s okay, Y/N. You’re not well. Just breathe, we’ll help you through this.’

The doctor’s offscreen voice didn’t stop her from snarling and pleading while another nurse stuck her with a needle.

Y/N’s eyes started to flutter, her rage slowing until she was practically drooling, barely able to hold herself up in the wheelchair they dumped her in.

‘daddy, please…’

She was so quiet.

‘why’d you leave me here, daddy?’

~~~

Crocodile stared into nothing when the recording faded out, his ears ringing with a rage that could have drained the whole island of life.

He couldn’t think. Almost charged through the door to find a fucking boat. Almost destroyed everything in sight.

My girl. My sweet girl.

The scarred man chugged half of the scotch since he knew he’d break the bottle soon, before making the call.

“Hello sir, did the–”

“Send the next one.”

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

The above scene is from Crocodile’s POV as he watched a recording of the reader. The recording showed the reader at the age of fifteen, not long after her father passed.

She was restrained at a table, and Dr. Vorsan’s voice came from off screen. He told her that they were trying to help her get well. The reader reacted with unsettling laughter, cursing, and death threats.

Nurses were shown holding her down while she resisted, and ultimately gave her a shot that made her slump into a wheelchair. She called for her dad softly, asking why he had left her there.

Crocodile struggled with fury at not being able to help her. He drank, and called Zala to transmit the next recording.

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Y/N, what happened? Did he hurt you?”

Kat growled her rage, her fingers digging into your skin while she struggled to pull you onto her lap.

“N-no, he didn’t,” you coughed, then sobbed, then tried again. “He’s a good p-person.”

“Well, if good people make you cry like this, I’m glad we don’t get a lot of them around here.”

Laughs and sobs.

And shame.

So fucking selfish. Making her take care of me again. Always about me. Fucking entitled brat, selfish bitch, weak—

“I’m so sorry, Kat,” you begged. Your pathetic sniveling came out muffled as you wrapped your arms around your head, curling in on yourself.

“Sis, you’re okay. You’re safe. I’m safe. Why do you keep apologizing?”

Her fingers stroked along the side of your face, the parts that weren’t hidden by your shaking arms. Every memory of your failures as a sister filled your throat, threatening to spill and burn the world like lava.

“I left you.”

Kat blinked slowly. Then frowned that perfect frown before she shook you, shocking your sobs away for a moment.

“Don’t fucking do this! I’m a full ass adult, sis. I told you I didn’t want to run off with your clown, remember? Hey?”

Her words should have found their way inside, but you had already slipped out of yourself, your body limp, and useless beside her.

Your sister sighed, returning to gentle touches that didn’t feel real.

“I don’t need you to protect me anymore,” she whispered, somehow reaching that floating part of you as though she knew where your mind had flown. “And if you only came back for that, then I need you to get the fuck out.”

A soft whine hit your throat, your body moving slowly.

“You really want to be with those pirates,” Kat asked, voice soft and low while she studied your heavy eyes. “I don’t want you here if it’s going to tear you up like this. Maybe we can… I’m not watched like you are. Do you want me to try to call them? If I tell them you want to go back… I don’t know what they could do, but we can try.”

A million years were held inside you now. A million years to make the right choice.

“I’m sorry, Kat, I didn’t want to tell you... You were right. I don’t ever want to see those murderers— those monsters again. I shouldn’t have left. I should have listened to you.”

The best lies were true, but when truth was lost, you had to use what remained.

You used the agonizing grief of losing your love to sell your tears, and you used every shred of hate you held for that traitor to make yourself believe your own rage.

“Did they hurt you?”

You took too long, letting silence lie for you.

“I’m going to kill those fuckers. I bet we could hire someone to do it. Let me talk to Uncle—“

“Please don’t, Kat! I don’t want anyone else to know. I just want to forget it, all of it.”

It’s not a lie. It’s not a lie.

“Are you okay,” she asked after staring at you for long enough that you were afraid you'd failed again. Exhaustion fell on you, but you gave a weak smile at her question.

Another Sylvad specialty.

“I’m trying.”

You had missed those narrowed eyes so very much.

“Really, I want to be here, Kitty Kat,” you told the truth, laughing at the instinctual eye roll she gave at the old nickname. “I’m just having a rough time right now.”

“Have you ever not had a rough time? It feels like I’m related to a tragedy sometimes.”

Kat looked so pleased with herself when your jaw dropped, wiggling away from you when your shaky fingers started to poke at her ribs.

“Real nice, sis. Thanks!”

“I am extremely nice,” she deadpanned while she climbed to her feet. “There's a box of cookies in my suite if you want some. I ate like four of them before I came in here, so they should be—“

“Gimme!”

“Just don’t eat all of them,” she scolded, laughing as she walked away.

“I would never!”

Your mock outrage made her laugh harder, and then she was gone. That lie of a smile fell from your lips while you stared at the empty space she had just left.

Kat wasn’t there. She doesn’t know. She can’t.

Slipping away… but it was a different kind of lost. No more limp and useless limbs. No more tears unless you needed them to lie for you. You knew what you had to do.

i can pretend for you, kitty kat.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: I've still been disappearing from the world. I've received some very recent help that might make things a bit easier IRL, so I hope I can talk to humans again soon. For now, I'm just so very very grateful for all of you. This story is helping me through some tough shit, and it wouldn't exist without all of the support, encouragement, and inspiration that y'all give me. I know this one was heavy. I hope that if it hit you hard, you know that you are not alone. Sometimes just seeing pain that looks like ours is a relief, a tiny respite from loneliness. I hope that my words can be that for you, and that we can all get through the tough times with just a little less loneliness. 💜

Fic Updates & Extras: I've included a map below with OP Canon and Numbers Game locations in case y'all would like to see where everybody's at and where the reader's memories occurred. I only included relevant locations and this is definitely not to scale. This map began as my need to ensure that the travel time between Karai Bari, Oak Roots Estate, and then Alabasta and the asylum made sense within the One Piece world. (Although that world doesn't make sense, lol. I added up just the travel time of the Straw Hats journey between islands, and with no stops it would take approx. 22.5 days to get from Alabasta to Egghead 😅) I apologize that I don't have the map or the timeline in text format yet. I will be adding that soon since images aren't accessible for everyone. Please let me know if you'd like that so that my adhd brain doesn't forget!!

Sources: The vast majority of the canon details were compiled by the sweet, glorious, super heroes at the One Piece Wiki, and The Library of Ohara. I would be lost without them!!!! 🙌😭🙏🏼 I'm basing the Numbers Game geography mainly off of This Map by xads181 on Reddit. It is so gorgeous and helpful! 😍 I also referenced This Map from the One Piece Wiki, and This Map from ClayStage.com. I made this map using miro.com.

Numbers Game Map ~ Chapter 34

Part 35

63 notes · View notes

awkward-tension-art · 7 months ago

Text

Darkness on Umbara Chp.8 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 7. Chapter 9.

Moment to Breathe

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Mentions of breakdowns, transwoman clone, Brief mention of inhibitor chips, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI

In the end, you had to be sedated.

When Rex was called to continue the fight at the airbase with the reinforcements, you panicked so badly Kix had to inject you to calm you down.

Luckily, your mind wasn’t clouded and you still had your wits about you. You were still able to treat the wounded, but you didn’t miss how Jesse opted to ‘guard’ you and Kix as you managed to transfer all the wounded into the airbase’s medical facility.

It was clear he wanted to keep an eye on you since Rex couldn’t. And, truthfully, this was the first time you’d had such a breakdown in front of the men. Kix had his own, when Tup tackled him, so the trooper most likely thought both medics of the 501st were unstable.

Even if you were, you did your jobs.

The fight was chaotic as the Umbarans battled for their facility. Luckily, with both Jesse and Kix, you got every injured trooper into the safety of the medical bay before the fighting was even done.

They didn’t have bacta tanks, but they had much needed supplies you used to save everyone you could. Not nearly enough for everyone if Krell decided to pull another suicide mission, but enough to help those that needed it right now.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk.

By the time Krell had joined the soldiers, you and Kix hadn’t lost anyone else. You got the troopers stable, laying on cots, and sleeping as peacefully as they could. Those who didn’t require life sustaining equipment were sent to the barracks of the airbase to rest.

You and Kix stepped outside once you both were done with the wounded. Jesse had been keeping a steady guard by the door, preventing anyone uninjured from coming inside and disturbing you.

The airbase belonged to the 501st.

Umbarans who hadn’t died fighting, were led to prison cells somewhere else within the base. Several squads were already walking around, inspecting the Umbaran weaponry. A few were going through crates of supplies, such as weapons and ammo.

You remained silent as you followed Kix and Jesse through the base. The three of you met up with Rex, Fives and Hardcase. There was pride in your lover’s eyes as he spoke to the heroic pilots, “despite Hardcase’s flying, you two saved us all.”

Hardcase sounded as proud and energized as always, “It wasn’t so tough.”

“You sure?” Jesse took off his helmet with a smirk, “You looked a little green when you came out of that fighter.” He teased the hyperactive trooper. All of them were in a good mood, finding the shred of happiness after such casualties.

You wished you could feel the same pride and happiness. But your mental state, as well as the sedatives in your blood prevented it.

“Mesh’la,” Rex turned to you, “Are you ok?”

“No losses since we took the airbase.” you responded, blatantly ignoring his question about you, “The seriously injured are stable and resting in the med bay.”

“That's not-.”

“Captain,” His words were loudly cut off by Krell. The temporary General stomped towards you all, looking as displeased as ever. Appo was tailing him along with another trooper, “Report, what is our situation?”

The 501st captain stepped forward, “General, we have taken the base and cut off enemy supply lines to the capital.” His back was straight, standing at attention, as did the others.

You…remained behind Fives, staying out of the Jedi’s line of sight. If Krell turned his ire to you, you couldn’t promise you wouldn’t do something to get yourself court-martialed.

The besliska raised a large hand and rubbed his chin, “Luck has smiled on you today, Captain.” His tone sounded smug, “Consider yourself fortunate.”

“It wasn't all luck sir,” Rex kept calm and steady, not letting Krell get to him, “A lot of men died to take this base.”

Too many good men. You thought blankly. A part of you felt hollow and empty as the captain mentioned the lost souls.

The General raised his hands, and looked at the dark sky, “A price for such victory.” He looked back down and crossed two of his four arms, “Perhaps you’ll realize this.”

You didn’t miss Rex’s fist clenching in rage. Your lover’s fury was a rare sight. But dammit, Krell was doing a good job at bringing it out. Instead of lashing out however, he took a breath and lowered his head.

The Jedi turned and began to walk away, “Dismissed.”

You and Fives stepped forward. You placed your hand on Rex’s shoulder as the ARC trooper grumbled, “He’s the one who will never realize.”

You remained silent, only squeezing Rex’s shoulder before letting go. You turned and began to walk back to the medical bay, unable to be around anyone right now.

At least those in the medical facility were unconscious.

Once the doors opened, you were surprised to see a trooper. Hana, had been waiting for you, holding a bloody wrist, “Sorry to bother, Doc. One of the bastards were hiding and jumped me.”

You motioned for the trooper to sit down on an open cot, “Are sutures alright?” You wanted to save bandages and bacta. Just in case Krell tried to kill anyone else.

Hana nodded, resting the injury on one of the small medical cabinets that were placed next to every bed. You pulled a chair, set the suture kit down, and immediately got to work.

During your stitching, you took notice of distinguishable features, since this was the first time you’ve seen the trooper without a helmet. White nail polish, small studs for earrings, hair pulled back into a bun, indicating length longer than ‘military standard’.

You didn’t want to assume, but it wasn’t unheard of for there to be sisters among the troopers.

“Hana.” you spoke softly, “I like your nails. And your earrings.” It was a small push, one to ask the question without assuming.

Hana’s surprised look then relieved smile told you all you needed to know. She responded quietly, “I know it's not regulation, but…”

“Who cares about regulation?” You returned her smile, noticing that she also wore waterproof mascara, “If it's what you want, then no one should stop you.” Your suturing was almost done.

Hana nodded, looking at her nails on the hand you weren’t stitching up. Impressively, they weren’t chipped, “I might go blue, next time.” She murmured, “so I keep matching the 501st.”

“Why not paint one hand blue and the other white?” You suggested, deciding to use a patch to cover the sutures, “Something unique.”

It was nice, having a conversation that wasn’t about Umbara, injuries, the soldiers lost or Krell. It was just…about nail polish. A good distraction. Something to get your mind off your earlier breakdown.

By the time you were done, she settled on a pattern of half blue and half white. She walked out of the clinic, with a stitched up wrist and small smile. Maybe she needed the mental distraction of the doom and death as well.

Despite losing so many…at least you made Hana feel better.

You sighed, putting your face in your hands as soon as the door was closed. You basked in the small clicks and beeps of machines monitoring the men's status, taking just a few minutes to breathe. After a second, you heard a shift.

One of the unconscious troopers turned onto his side to get more comfortable. You inspected the medical equipment next to his bed to check his status. He was alive and healing.

All of them were alive.

The doors opened again, and you looked up. Rex was standing there, helmet off and looking at you with both love and worry in his beautiful eyes, “May I…come in?” He asked quietly, as if not to wake the men.

“You don't have to ask, you know.” you responded, giving him a small, tired smile. It was endearing, how he’d become shy when you two were in private.

He walked over to you and brushed his hand over your cheek, “How’s your arm?” the captain asked, looking at the bandages you still wore. The bacta soaked gauze were doing their job, as the wound pulsed and throbbed in pain, indicating healing. Whether all your muscles would return remains to be seen, but at least the nerves and veins were being repaired.

“It’s getting better.” you answered, reaching up to hold his face in your hand. Your eyes narrowed, “You need rest.”

“We all do.” Rex mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning his face into your palm. He breathed deeply before opening his eyes to look at you, “Mesh’la,” His term of endearment for you slipped from his lips, “You’ve saved so many of my brothers.”

That's why he was here. Because of your earlier breakdown.

“I’m alright now, Rex.” you gently reassured him, “I…was panicked. After the battle with the tanks, and getting Silk killed, I was terrified I’d lose you.”

Rex leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. One of his hands rested at your hip, holding you close, “Silk’s death wasn’t your fault, none of the losses are your fault,” his tone was so soft, so gentle, “You have saved so many of us, not just on Umbara, but on every planet we’ve been to. Every battle, every fight…you’ve done so much. For all of us.”

“I want to do more,” you responded, “I don’t want you to lose any more of your brothers…I know it's war, but…”

He sighed, “We are clones. We were made to fight for the Republic. Die for the Republic, if the situation calls for it.” His eyes held a certain sadness to it, “We are meant to be expendable.”

“Not to me.” your voice was resolute. He wasn’t expendable. No clone was expendable.

Rex looked at you like you were the moon and stars themselves. He pulled you closer, kissing you passionately on the lips. Your chest met his armor, and he leaned into you, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum…” he murmured when you broke away, “Gar cuyir ner kar'ta bal runi…” His forehead was against yours, holding you so tenderly.

“Bal ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” you whispered back, taking in his warmth and love, “Gar cuyir ner oyay bal narser…”

He kissed you again, only pulling away when one of the unconscious soldiers moved in his sleep.

“I have to find Krell,” he mumbled, looking at you mournfully, “He may have orders…”

“Go, be the 501st captain, cyare.” you gave him a peck on the cheek, “Good luck dealing with him.”

He sighed and stepped back, leaving the medical bay.

You watched him go before checking on all of them men. They were stable still, and luckily, a few were in a good enough state to wake up. A majority of them responded well to your neuro-check. Despite the good response from them, you wanted to keep the soldiers who sustained hits to the head in the med bay.

However, there was an ARF trooper, Rush, who was still slurring his words. It was a terrible blow to the head he had sustained taking the airbase. Putting him back under the effects of sedatives and painkillers, you wanted to move on to everyone else. But…

Well, the Umbarans were technologically advanced. The life support and monitoring systems were intergalactic basics. All from the same base that you were trained with. However, they had systems and machines you had never seen before. You tried to use some of the more heavy duty equipment, but had no luck.

One of them was a scanner, that you could tell. It resembled a datapad, but clearly had the technology and structure of the Umbarans. The screen had values and data that exceeded most medical equipment in the Republic. Your fingers toyed with it, trying to get the thing to work in your favor. Such a small but powerful scanner would be useful.

Your shoulders slumped just as the med bay doors opened again, “Holy fuck you’re still awake!?” Kix’s eyes were wide, staring at you. His helmet was off and he seemed…somewhat refreshed. He probably got something to eat and took a power nap after Krell dismissed everyone.

“Yea, there's still a lot to do.” you looked at him, holding the scanner, “Plus, I’m trying to crack some of this equipment.”

“The hardware and programming isn’t anything we’ve seen before.” The medic looked over your shoulder to see the tablet in your hands, “Oh? What's this?”

“I think it's a hand-held full body scanner. More powerful than anything in the Republic.” you answered, “I want it. But I can’t get the damn program to behave.”

He stepped back, one hand on his hip, “Jesse and Fives are in the east hangar playing with some of their weapons,” Kix gave you a soft smile, “I’ll keep an eye on the guys here, take a break.”

You couldn’t help but return his smile. It was clear the both of you had hit your limits with the losses. But now, after some rest, your spirits were higher.

After you gave an overview of each of the injured troopers, you left the medical bay and went to the hagar. The airbase was more organized now. Supplies were being moved, weapons were being inspected, and patrols were established. The 501st was very efficient.

The hagar wasn't so organized but definitely had more energy. Several soldiers were on floating platforms, inspecting suspended starships. Others were working on the ships themselves, looking at the mechanics and wiring. It didn’t take you long to find Fives and Jesse.

The ARC trooper was with Tup, having pried off a metal sheet from the ship he piloted before. The two of them were discussing something, most likely the controls or mechanics, as they inspected the inner workings of the Umbaran weapon.

Dogma was seated nearby, cleaning his rifle while Jesse was standing at a consol, brow furrowed. He was hard at work attempting to crack the enemy hardware.

You approached, stepping in front of the console, “Hey Jesse,” Your voice was quiet, not wanting to distract the others, or wake up Hardcase who was asleep on the floor, leaning against the ship Tup and Fives worked on, “Are you busy?”

The senior trooper perked up, “Depends,” He leaned forward with a glint in his eye, “I can always make time for you.” you snorted when he winked.

Dogma scoffed, “That is inappropriate.”

You rolled your eyes, but handed Jesse the tablet, “Kix told me you were working on the Umbaran hardware, I was hoping you could help me crack this thing.”

He raised a brow and took it, “What is it?”

“Some kind of scanner, I think.” you answered, sitting down next to Dogma, “But more powerful than anything in the Republic.”

“Might be easier than this fucking thing.” He smacked the console, “Give me a few minutes and I'll-.”

There was a yelp behind you and Fives tumbled off the starship, hitting the ground. The noise woke Hardcase with a jerk, who sat up and looked around confused.

“I told you not to do that,” Tup looked at the ARC trooper's pathetic form on the floor, “I warned you that if you touched the wire, it would shock you.”

“I know, I know.” Fives huffed and got to his feet and dusted himself off, “Fucking Umbarans and their…”

“I cracked the hardware,” Jesse raised the tablet, “It says Fives doesn't have a brain.”

“Son of a-”

You laughed softly alongside Tup who had paused his toying with the machine. Once you stepped up to the console, hand open, Jesse looked at you, “Oh, sorry. I actually didn't. I just saw an opportunity.” He chuckled.

Fives huffed and swiped the Umbara gadget from him, “Give me that. I’ll figure this out.”

“What's going on?” Hardcase slurred from the floor.

“Nothing, go to the barracks and get some sleep.” Dogma mumbled, keeping his eyes down to continue cleaning his weapon.

Hardcase looked around before he silently nodded and stood up, “Sleep well, buddy.” You bid him farewell as he stumbled out of the hangar. A part of you felt jealous at his ability to sleep right now.

You…didn’t think you could. Not until all of this was done.

Tup spoke your name softly, earning your attention, “Are…you and Kix ok?”

Oh, he’s so sweet. Tup reminded you of a shiny fresh off Kamino, overly respectful, overly polite and overly shy. You hoped that with more experience, he’d break out of the shell, learn that you could be a friend, not just his doctor.

You gave him a tired yet genuine smile, “We are, just needed some rest and time to breathe.”

The trooper nodded before looking over at Dogma, “Hey, Dogma, isn’t there something you need to tell our good doctor?”

The other trooper flinched before he nodded, “Listen, Doc…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things on the field.” His dark brown eyes were filled with clear sorrow and regret. His apology surprised you, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“How’s your jaw?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“Hardcase has a strong right hook.” He mumbled, looking away ashamed, “But it's fine…”

With a sigh you approached and put a hand on his shoulder, “It's not the worst that's been said to me.” you wanted to laugh at his surprised look but remained calm, “Apology accepted.”

He slumped his shoulders and let out a relieved sigh.

“Got it!” Fives practically cheered, causing a trooper on a platform to visibly jump. The ARC trooper gave the scanner to you quickly before he dashed to Jesse’s side to help him with the console.

You looked over the gadget and began to toy with it silently. After a few minutes, the tablet responded to your touch easily. Wordlessly you stood and raised it to Dogma.

After a press on the screen, a fan of light went over the confused trooper. He paused, looking at you, “Doc…?”

The screen blinked, and on it, was an outline of his body. Next to it were values.

Blood pressure. Heart rate. Blood count. Adrenal levels. Liver enzymes. Nerve response time. Bone density. Hours of sleep.

All important values in terms of health and wellbeing. On the outline there were indicators and when you pressed the screen, there was more information. You pressed the area of his jaw, exactly were Hardcase had clocked him.

“Are you sore where Hardcase hit you?” you asked him and he nodded. After his answer, you perked up happily, knowing the scanner worked. However, there was another indicator in his head.

When you pressed it, the information was…off.

To test it, you scanned Fives, only to get the same result. Then Jesse, then Tup. All of them had the same result.

ANOMALY: right orbital floor, parietal and temporal intersection

Huh…weird….

#reader insert #captain rex x you #captain rex x reader #tcw x reader #umbara arc #sw tcw #star wars the clone wars #star wars x reader #captain rex #arc trooper fives #clone trooper jesse #clone trooper tup #clone trooper kix #pong krell

83 notes · View notes