#my ass is going to MEAT COVE

[mysticarcanum]

god if i can just manage to torrent the last ep of iwtv and tonight's dr who to watch while im camping........ i won't even be able to scroll through the tag!!!! because of woke!!!! (because there are. no cell towers)

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 20 - Lavender 3

So. I know in my vote post. I mentioned that it probably won't have any Mihawk/Shanks. HOWEVER! My ass went and had to read some MiShanks stuff and now I can't get them out of my head. But I also do not want to leave Peppermint Tea behind because I love my little islander and her snowy devil fruit.

Anyways! I hope you enjoy the direction that I've chosen to go! I promise this will have a happy ending!

Warnings! Drinking! Shanks and Mihawk are mean and their past is peeked into!

Masterlist

A week is all it takes for Mihawk to track Shanks and his crew down. He finds the redhead in the cove of a chain of merchant islands near Sabaody and flairs his haki to get the Emperor’s attention. Shanks jerked his head up from where he’d been dozing in the mid-day sun. He rubs the crust from his eyes and gives the warlord a wide smile in greeting as he approaches.

“Hey, you! Just the guy I wanted to talk to,” Shanks smirks at his old friend, and he pushes himself up, leaning heavily on the tree he’d been dozing under. The warlord looks immaculate as usual, and Shanks doesn’t hide the way he casts his eyes over his bare chest.

Mihawk comes to a stop a foot away from the other man, far closer than he would usually deem to get nowadays. Dracule narrows his eyes at the other man, mood already soured.

“If you weren’t such a drunk buffoon, I would suggest a duel, if only so I could kick your ass,” Drcaule sneers at the redhead. The Emporer looks tired and hungover, not an unusual sight, though at least Shanks seemed sober enough to pay attention. It’s more of a struggle than it should be for him to keep his stance relaxed and nonchalant. Shanks knew more than anyone on the Grand Line how to push Mihawk’s buttons.

“Ohh, now you want to fight? You know I’d win, right?” Shanks sways straight, feet planted as his hand lands on the hilt of Griffon. The tension in the air skyrockets, getting the attention of the rest of the crew that lazes around.

The two of them had not fought since Shanks lost his arm, so having the Hawk's attention on him was riveting. He grins at Dracule, his own haki flaring in response to Mihawk's that is still raging at the redhead.

Beckman takes one look at the two men and rounds everyone up, directing them back to the Red Force. Who knew what was about to happen, and the first mate would rather not have any possible casualties if Mihawk and Shanks decided to actually duke it out.

Mihawk takes a half step forward, not backing down from the challenge that Shanks presents.

“I would like to see you try,” He sneers. Lip curling as he looks down his nose at the bum. The only thing that is keeping him from making mince meat of the younger man is a tiny voice in the back of his mind that sounds oddly like you, telling him how bad of an idea it would be to cause a scene. His snow angel surely wouldn’t be happy with him.

The two powerful men eye each other for a while, ready for the other to make the first move. Shanks sighs and removes his hand from his sword, shifting to gesture at the port town down the beach.

“How about we act like adults and go have a drink? My treat?” Shanks suggests, and Dracule huffs at him but dips his head in agreement. He follows Shanks back into town and to the first bar they come across. They order, and Dracule picks a table in the back, away from the rest of the patrons. Shanks pays like he agrees, and Mihawk takes that as a win.

“This is about that treasure, huh?” Shanks starts after taking a deep pull of his ale, “I just want to go ahead and let you know that you can’t make me stay away. She said that we’re more than welcome to come by her island.”

Dracule could strangle the smug prick across from him. Shanks speaks nothing but the truth, but Mihawk can’t help but bare his teeth in a silent snarl at the redhead’s self-satisfied tone, acting like he had already won whatever argument that had yet to be had. He hadn’t expected Shanks to bestow you with such a familiar nickname, and the older man doesn’t know how he feels about it right now.

“I’m not here to warn you to stay away from the island, Shanks,” Mihawk clears his expression back to one of uninterest and shelves the earlier thought for later. The Emperor can see the displeasure lurking in Dracule’s ringed eyes despite his best efforts, “I’m here to tell you to stay away from,_.”

“I found her first, she is mine, and I am not going to let you of all people ruin the relationship I have with them,” Dracule continues, tone deadly and not booking any kind of room for argument. He sips his wine, finding it subpar, “That girl is worth more to me than any treasure in this miserable world.”

Shanks watches his old friend. He commends the usually monotone man for speaking about his feelings, but the redhead has a stubborn streak bigger than an island, “We’re pirates, Hawkeye. I don’t think I should have to remind you what we do with treasure.”

He lets the threat linger in the air, the tension borderline suffocating, before Shanks breaks it by sipping from his mug once more, “Anyone else I wouldn’t have any kind of reservations about taking what I want, but we’ve been rivals for a long time, and we’ve known each other for even longer Mihawk. What’s one more thing for us to scuffle over?”

“_ is not some kind of prize to be won,” Dracule grumbles, anger leaking over as his hand tightens around his glass. He must consciously think about loosening his grip, or else he would have sent wine and glass exploding everywhere, “And if she were, I have already won.”

Shanks purses his lips and sits back in his seat, amused at having gotten such a rise out of Hawkeye. He wasn’t about to give up, though, but also wouldn’t go behind the warlord’s back. He had too much respect for the other man. He sips his ale and then sets the tankard away.

“You can't be there all the time, Mihawk,” Shanks points out quietly, and his tone has shifted, more to one of careful understanding, “Your duties as a warlord pull you away from her, don't they? Leaving her vulnerable and alone for longer stretches of time than you like.”

Dracule says nothing even as Shanks lays his greatest fears on the table for all to see. The redhead isn't wrong, and just admitting that rankles the warlord in the worst of ways. However, Mihawk wasn't above putting your safety above everything else in his life. There would only be so much he and perhaps Perona could do if Big Mom somehow found out that you still lived.

“Do you know who she is? Her connections?” Mihawks asks the redhead and gets his answer when a dark expression crosses Shanks’ face, “And my involvement?”

“I knew the moment she introduced herself. Is that your reason for wanting her, Mihawk? Are you trying to atone for your sins?” Shanks sends the other man a mean grin, and Dracule matches the look with a glare of his own. Shanks can remember the day of your island's destruction and can remember the disappointment he felt when he found out that Dracule had left to help Big Mom. It's mean, and he feels guilty for bringing it up, but Shanks invested himself into your happiness the moment you told him that he and his crew were welcome back to your island.

“I don't have to explain my actions to you,” Mihawk sets his empty glass away, leaning back in his seat to cross his arms over his chest, “Besides, you have no right to judge any of what I do.”

Shanks is an emperor for a reason. He answered to no one, and while he wasn't a monster like Kaido or Big Mom, the redhead had skeletons in his closet like everyone else. He raises his hand in surrender, reluctantly agreeing with Dracule on the subject.

“Does she know about it?” Shanks pressed, and his brows shot up in surprise when the warlord sniffed and looked away from him. Shanks narrows his eyes, disbelief thick in his tone, “You really haven't told her?”

“No, and I have no plans of doing so, either. Why should I bring up painful memories when she doesn't even remember what happened to her?” Dracule draws and crosses his legs like he has done no wrong in the world, “It's best that she never finds out.”

“Oh, that way she can't get upset with you and tell you to leave,” Shanks summarizes and nods like it makes all the sense in the world, but Mihawk can see the tension in his smile and the sarcastic way he slaps his knee, “Smart man, Mihawk, keeping that away from someone you love.”

“I do not love her. She interests me, and we have a mutually beneficial relationship,” Mihawk snaps at the redhead. Panic had swept through him the second Shanks had dropped the L word. Dracule Mihawk loved nothing in this world. He only invested his time into interesting subjects, and you were the most mysterious by far.

Shanks snorts in amusement, eyes rolling skyward at how stubborn his old friend was. This song and dance were familiar, one that Shanks had the displeasure of knowing intimately. The Emperor can't keep the bitter tone out of his voice when he next speaks. Shanks can't help but want to be mean right now.

“Of course you don't,” He hums and sweeps his hand through his hair, leaving the red strands tussled, “Then you shouldn't have any problem with me wanting her, then, right? Since she just interests you.”

An image of Shanks and his angel curled up together in front of the fireplace in his home, you leaning into the bare chest of the redhead as he helps you sip from a shallow bowl of sake. He sees you pulling Shanks in for a kiss, a sweet one full of yearning.

The imagery has Dracule seething with a feeling he hasn't felt in longer than he would care to remember, though any normal person would call it jealousy. He sucks in a sharp breath and shuts his eyes, fighting to control his breathing and his growing annoyance. This insolence that Shanks wears like a second skin has always been able to set Mihawk off. How he once called this man more than a friend, Dracule didn't know.

Shanks smirks, self-satisfied at seeing the other man break even further at his scathing remarks. He thinks that Mihawk deserves it. He also thinks that the other man is a big idiot for not telling you about your past. That information belonged to you. You deserved to know about it.

“You will not touch her, Shanks,” Mihawk repeated, tone laced with finality. He was done with this sham of a conversation. He should have known that Shanks would push on this. The Emperor matched his own stubbornness.

“I won't do anything that _ doesn't want,” Shanks snapped right back, dark eyes narrowed on the other man. Dracule wasn't the only one tired of this back-and-forth. He softened after half a second, shoulders relaxing as he leaned forward and rested his upper body on the table between them.

“I'm not trying to take her away from you, Dracule. I want to help you keep her safe, but I'm not doing it for free,” Shanks murmurs, and Mihawk sighs heavily when he feels defeat creeping in. He does not want to admit that Shanks makes nothing but good points. Mihawk may not trust the other pirate, not any longer, but it could have been someone far more ill-mannered than the laid-back Emperor.

“I want you to tell me when you will visit her island. I want your word that this is for her, Shanks. That you are not just doing this to spite me. That you aren’t going to run away from her like you’re known to do” Mihawk demands, and leans forward, voice dropping and becoming deadly, “Swear it to me.”

The warlord is bringing up the past. A gamble, but it gets the younger man’s attention, and Dracule feels a dark satisfaction rip through him when Shanks sits up straight and looks at him in surprise, though hurt swims in his dark eyes.

Mihawk knows how much he is giving in and giving up with this, but your happiness and your safety mean more to him than little else. He would have to contend with Shanks for your attention, and he despises the hurt and anxiety that curdled in his stomach at the thought of you leaving him for the redhead. Shanks was nothing but selfish, a problem that Mihawk knew too well. Dracule didn’t want to have to share you with the other man, but this wasn’t about him. If you wanted Shanks around, then the warlord would not keep him away.

Shanks meets his golden gaze, any trace of humor or teasing attitude gone from his expression, and he offers Dracule his hand. He thinks back to a time before none of this would ever be necessary, a time when he and Mihawk trusted one another explicitly, and the Emperor dearly wishes for that closeness. Shanks wonders if the older man ever wants the same, “I swear that this is for _.”

Dracule eyes the hand that is placed in front of him. An old tension had settled in the back of his mind, one that Mihawk hadn’t felt in well over twenty years when the two of them had been far closer. He feels that tension shimmer between them, and Shanks’ hand is familiar and warm when Mihawk finally takes it.

Shanks curls his hand tight around his old friends, holding on far longer than necessary just to feel the heat of Mihawk’s palm against his own. He grins when he catches sight of the dusting of red on the Hawk’s cheeks when he extracts his hand. While there is still much to hash out between the two of them, the air has settled, and their haki smooths along one another as if greeting an old friend. Shanks leans forward, eyes mischievous, “Let’s have another drink, Hawkeye. My treat.”

Dracule hears that little voice in his head again, though this time it matches the troublesome tone that lingers in Shanks’ voice, but Mihawk finds himself listening to it once again as he leans back in the creaky bench and crosses his legs.

“Get me something better this time.”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax

[goddess0fgluttony]

Here’s the story

So a few months ago we had some new people move in at the cove across from me. She was a nurse. However she was very VERY attractive. She had wide hips, solid thighs, a round butt, and a slim abdomen. She caught my eye because I couldn’t stop thinking about how good she’d look with a big, round, soft, butter ball belly. So I decided to make my move. I saw her out walking one day and decided to go running shirtless. As I passed her I noticed she pull down her sunglasses to take a look at me. I stopped running and walked toward her. When we came close enough she looked me up and down and said “I’ve noticed that you’ve been looking at me lately. Mostly my ass and belly. You want ‘em bigger don’t you?Come by and fatten me up.” She blew me a kiss and started to walk back to her home. I stood there for a minute, drooling watching her fat ass jiggle while she walked to her house. After admiring her butt I went to her house and ordered dominos pizza. She led me to the kitchen where she had a chair, rope, and a bikini. She turned to me and said “Wait here with the pizza while I go put on this bikini for you. Be back shortly baby.” I was so excited I could barely contain it. The pizza arrived, I paid the delivery guy and waited for her to come downstairs. She slowly walked down the stairs and sat in her chair. I asked her “You ready to get fatter?” She moaned and said “I thought you’d never ask.” I pulled out the pizza and started shoving bite after bite after bite into her mouth. After the first two boxes of pizza her belly had gone from toned abs to a fat gut. She lazily slumped back in the chair, continually eating every slice I shoved in her face. After 4 whole boxes of large pizzas she was now a beautiful masterpiece. Her thighs were now soft meat sticks waiting to be rubbed, her belly hung over into her lap, she now had love handles, and a beautifully fatter butt. She was ABSOLUTELY beautiful…and stuffed of course. She thanked me profusely, kissed me, gave me her number, and told me I better go before her husband and kids got back. 30 minutes after I made it home I got a text from her. “Hey you’ll never guess how my friends reacted to my belly. I was laying in my bed on FaceTime with a friend. She pointed out my belly and said is it just me or did your belly get bigger? I laughed and said yeah got a little bored so I ordered a little bit of pizza. She was obviously disappointed, but she played it off.” I thought about it and replied “How bout tonight? 9:00 or 9:30 for a belly play session?” She hearted the message and said “Fine with me 🥰.” I texted back “Love you my beautiful feedee.” As the day went by 9:30 finally rolled around there she was standing at my door. I let her in and we went to my bedroom. She was wearing a white t shirt and leggings that clearly didn’t fit. She sat in my lap and I took off her shirt, freeing her belly from containment. I slowly moved my arms toward her belly and started massaging it.

So what do you think of the story?

😳😳😳

[the-hoarse-bard]

Yes Man was very forthcoming with the plan to take over Vegas. We'd need to get the chip to him, upload his AI onto it, and then knock off House somehow and use the chip to replace him with Yes Man. As we stepped out of the Tops, though, we were stopped by a man with an oddly large hat. "The eyes of the mighty Caesar are upon you. He admires your accomplishments and bestows upon you his Mark. Come to the fort. We have something you'd want." He handed me some kind of medallion on a necklace.

At a second glance, I recognized the man. The cold eyes and voice trying way too hard to come off as calculated. It was Vulpes, the same legionary I'd encountered at Nipton. Luckily for all involved, he ran off before we could kick his ass. I also realized he probably meant they'd captured Benny. Boone turned to me, "You'd better go alone. Don't know if I could stop myself from opening fire on that many legionnaires." I told him to wait at the Lucky 38 in that case. It'd be just ED-E and me, it seems, and we hit the road.

The Fort was across the Colorado river, and only accessible via Cottonwood Cove south of Novac. Soon enough, we found ourselves back at the 188 without much worth mentioning. It was sunset by the time we got there, and I'd ordered a gecko steak for dinner from the bar. Then, I took notice of a strangely dressed woman standing around one of the tables and decided to strike up a conversation. I do love ED-E, but he's not much fun to talk to.

The strange girl spoke first as I approached, "No offense, but you look like you've travelled a long way down some bad roads. Where'd you come from?" I told her I'd come from Goodsprings, which was, well, half true. She seemed surprised, "Really? Huh, you have come a long way, then. Never been there myself, but I've met a few traders who've passed through. Well, welcome then. I'm Veronica, I live in a hole in the ground." I gave her a look, and she clarified, "Well, a bunker. I like it my way better." I told her that explained why I hadn't seen her last time I'd come through the 188. As we were talking, my steak arrived.

I asked what she was doing out here instead of in her bunker as I cut my steak, "Well, I'm not there much anymore. Usually out here, picking up supplies. I think my family prefers it that way these days. Someone's gotta pick up the groceries, you know?" I nodded as I was still struggling with the tough reptile meat.

Veronica was quiet for a moment, then asked, "So, hey. Can I ask you something on the level?" I looked up at her as I finally finished cutting through the gecko steak, "I had a run=in with a group calling themselves the Brotherhood of Steel. Pretty strange bunch. You know anything about them?" I chewed on my steak as I thought, and responded that I did. They had a reputation behind them of violence, but if you didn't have any dangerous tech, they'd probably leave you alone. She looked relieved, "Oh, good. I can't afford anything like that anyway. Say, where are you headed anyway?" I told her I was on my way to meet an.... Old friend. She responded, "Must be a pretty interesting relationship to bring you all the way out here." I nodded, not wanting to get into the whole Benny story.

I finished up my dinner in short order, when Veronica spoke again, "I'll be honest. You're the first person I've met out here who looks like they can handle themselves. I'll be honest, there are places I want to see that'd be dangerous to go alone. What do you think? Maybe we could travel together." I thought about it and sighed, asking what she was hoping to see, "Nowhere in particular really, just hoping to see more of the world. Get a fresh perspective, see if there's anything I could learn from." Seemed reasonable enough, and I asked what she could bring to the table, mentioning she didn't look like much, "Well, good, that was the look I was going for. Just trust me, you'll be glad you brought me along..." I raised an eyebrow. That was a bit ominous, but judging her by her meager appearance would be a misplay.

I told Veronica she could come if she wanted, and she pumped her fist, "Yes! Don't worry, if I turn out to be a burden, we can split up any time. No hard feelings. Oh! And I should probably mention... I asked you about the Brotherhood of Steel because... I'm one of them." I gave her a shocked look, the Brotherhood hadn't been seen around here in years, "I asked because I had to know how you'd react when I told you. We've made a lot of enemies over the years. You still okay bringing me along?" I told her it was actually comforting knowing she had some kind of combat training, and she pulled out a power fist and slipped it onto her right hand and said, "Thanks for taking a chance on a young girl from California with stars in her eyes and a pneumatic gauntlet on her fist."

That business settled, the sun had set, and we found some spare beds to go to sleep for the night.

[phcking-detective]

FOUND

Find Familiar: ch 1

Rating: E

Summary: Nines cast the spell Find Familiar, but instead of an animal, they accidentally summoned a werewolf. Gavin is just happy to have finally found his mate and start pack bonding with the half-elf wizard. His best idea for a fun bonding activity? Touching his dick of course!

***

Gavin wakes up with a warm, breathing body pressed against his own, and it's all he ever wanted.

Then reality seeps in like cold rain and he realizes it's just the one person, not a dog pile, because he doesn't have a pack. Only a wizard who maybe sort of magically owns him now.

So that's a great start to the morning.

He gets a stew started like he promised, once he finds some potatoes and carrots, one lonely haunch of meat in an icebox, and no spices beyond salt. There aren't many places to look, since the whole room is five, maybe six hundred square feet.

Gods. Gavin's a lone wolf living half-feral without a tent or even a fire half the time, and he still thinks this is pathetic.

He knows better than to touch any of the books scattered around—fucking wizards—so he doesn't try to clean anything while he waits for his new … boss? Alpha?? person, to wake up.

(He does risk moving a stack of papers to sit in front of the black leather collar on the desk. Not hidden. Just. Out of sight.)

"No celery?" the wizard asks.

Gavin bites down on a flinch and a few choice swears. Sweet Selûne shift him. Who the fuck goes from asleep to awake completely silent like that?

"No," he growls.

Nines blinks themself more awake. "Is your negative an agreement to my question or simply a negative?"

"Baby, I have no idea what the fuck you mean, but there's not any celery."

"Oh. Thank you."

The conversation ends there when he dishes out a bowl of stew, that Nines eats at their desk, one agonizingly slow bite at a time, almost as an afterthought as they work on creating papers and papers of writing.

Since the wizard is so absorbed in their scribbles they can barely notice food, Gavin strips down and takes a bath. The water runs hot straight out of the faucet, even without any signs of pipes. Sinking into a whole tub of it feels goddamn luxurious.

He's half-shifted before he even realizes, but Nines probably wouldn't notice he got out and swung his dick around like a propeller, so he doesn't force himself back. His hybrid form always feels better anyway, the best of both animals, with human hands and wolf senses, still able to stand and walk upright but with stronger muscles and thicker protective body hair.

He's still sunk down and amusing himself by blowing bubbles in the water with his near-snout when Nines finally surfaces for air on their own side of the tower.

"Gav—oh."

They turn around and blink at him. Gavin hunkers down lower in the water and prepares to force himself back, but even without actively poking the bond, he can tell there isn't any fear or revulsion from the wizard. He still pulls his snout of out the water and scents the air just to check, but … nothing.

"Good. Yes. Feel free to utilize any of the …" Nines pauses, stuck on the words. "Accommodations. Can you read?"

It's probably a fair question—especially since the answer is barely—but Gavin still hauls himself out of the bathtub and onto the sand pit so Nines will have to look at him. All the scars, the body hair almost thick enough to be a pelt, the way his bone structure is clearly halfway between one form and the other right now.

But instead of making the wizard flinch away and stop asking questions, Nines just grabs a different notebook and begins sketching him.

"Why?" Gavin growls out.

He can still speak, but just like his amount of literacy, the amount is barely. With lots of effort.

"Hmm?"

Nines looks up. Sort of. They lift their head at least, but their eyes stay focused down on their notebook, reluctantly dragged up at the very last second.

"Mm? Oh. Yes, here is your contract," they say.

They place the small stack of papers they'd written onto the dining table in the center of the room, then the two of them meet in the middle, each awkwardly taking a seat across from each other at the table, then staring at each other even more awkwardly.

"That is my brother's seat," Nines says.

Gavin raises an eyebrow but doesn't move his ass out of it. At least he put pants on before sitting down.

"I have never had another visitor," the wizard continues. "So. That has always been …"

They trail off, then grab their notebook and begin reading from it.

"My name is Nines. I am a wizard. I am thirty-two year half-elf. I do not have a gender. I use they-them pronouns. Pause for—"

They stop abruptly and look back up at him.

"… Gavin," he says. "I'm a fighter, thirty-six, werewolf. Born, not turned, so we don't really keep track of any races. You're either a wolf or you're not. Probably human though. Uh, he-him."

If they don't bother with human binary genders, maybe they'd understand just … switching genders? He thinks about it while Nines writes down what he'd said, like anything he says is actually important enough to be recorded.

Maybe he should let them get a little more attached to him before he tells them about the other crazy, evil wizard with a claim on him—and all the transformations they'd done on his body.

"Does your entire pack consist of born lycanthropes?" they ask, drawing him back into the conversation.

"Can just say wolves," Gavin grumbles. "And yeah. Haven't taken in a stray for a while."

No one does. That's why he's still—ugh, stop it. Fucking feeling sorry for himself.

"Is there a significant cultural difference between born and turned … wolves?"

Gavin stares at the wizard. Significant cultural difference, Selûne shift and collar him.

"Turned wolves don't have a pack," he finally says. "No one to share the mental load—most of the poor fuckers don't even know what's happening until they're already shifted and scared and starving. They've got just enough instinct to go back home, and then the screaming and running starts …"

He assumes he doesn't have to finish it from there. A hungry wolf sees something run, and they think prey, not child.

"I apologize if I ask simple questions," Nines states while still writing. "But I have never had the opportunity to meet a wolf in person, and so my knowledge is likely biased and incorrect. Is a coastal environment a suitable habitat for you?"

Gavin shrugs. "Sure. You gonna let me run around outside at some point?"

"Yes, of course. You may come and go as you please," Nines says. "How much land will your pack need? I do own the surrounding—"

His pack? Gavin stares at Nines as they ramble on about this land they own and how it's too rocky to support farming but has access to a cove, and the ensuing treaty with the local pod of merfolk, and—

And his pack. He has no idea what game the wizard is playing, but he never imagined it would include letting him "come and go as you please" and providing land for his—

"I don't have a pack," he blurts out.

Nines stops and blinks at him.

"Got kicked out."

He doesn't explain. It's impossible to explain just one thing, because it's all tangled together, in his mind, the words stuck in his throat. Refusing his pack's Alpha, bargaining to have his body changed and transformed, his womb scooped out so he could never be bred, never ever—

And where exactly that got him. They sit together in silence for a long, horrible moment.

"No one has need of a ninth child," Nines finally says.

"You really call yourself that?" Gavin asks in return, for lack of anything less dick-ish to say.

"Yes." Nines looks at him without any self-pity and factually adds, "It states all that most need to know. They do not need me, and I do not need them."

Gavin nods. "Fuck 'em."

"Yes. Well. I—" Nines stops and abruptly pushes the small pile of paperwork closer to his side of the table. "Here is your contract. It details what I … do need. And, expectations. I suppose the fifth clause is no longer necessary, unless you intend to create your own."

"My own … pack?" Gavin asks slowly.

"Yes."

He snorts. "I'm not going to run around and start turning people."

"Yes, that is included in the clause," Nines says. "Subsection A. Not to offend, but I thought it best to lay out a certain number of precautions first. B notes that you will be beholden to all the same laws as any other citizen, and C states you will make adequate arrangements for the full moon with myself or Knight Commander Anderson."

Gavin pulls a face at the rank. That shit's almost definitely a paladin. No sense of humor, holier than thou, and allergic to critical thinking. Just because you pledged allegiance to a deity society deemed "Good" doesn't actually mean literally everything you do is always going to be right or kind or morally just.

"He is also a lycan—" Nines stops and corrects, "A turned wolf, you called it? If expecting the two of you to … have commonalities … is unreasonable, then the subsection can be adjusted accordingly. The point is merely that you arrange for a safe and secure location each month."

"Yeah, we're not going to sniff each other's butts and be best friends," Gavin tells him. "It's probably how you feel about sorcerers and warlocks. Magic just looks like magic to me, but—yeah."

He stops when he sees Nines's face collapse into itself in the purest form of affronted disgust he's ever seen. This time, he can't stop a chuckle before it slips out.

"I can just stay here though?" he asks.

Nines unfurls their face enough to nod. "Yes. My power may be my own, achieved through my own studies, but I was sent to the same monastery as my twin. I acknowledge you have been sent by my patron deity, and I will fulfill my responsibilities to you thusly."

Gavin's eyebrows shoot up. "You're religious?"

"I worship Selûne," Nines answers.

Gavin stares at the wizard.

"Children born under the full moon often have enhanced magical ability," they explain. "She is also the goddess of navigation, quests, and all who work by night. It was the battle with her own twin that caused the formation of Mystral, the goddess of all magic. Many arcane users still worship her as such."

"And werewolves," Gavin says as how this shit all happened clicks into place.

"Your duties outlined in the contract." Nines stops and clears their throat. "Every power has a price, and mine was enacted at my birth. I have always needed certain accommodations. I realize now a mere animal would not be enough to serve as my familiar, yet a person has never been summoned before. A familiar that is both animal and person, however …"

Gavin nods at the stack of papers. "So am I your familiar or your employee?"

"Well, both," Nines answers. "You are magically bound to me, but you obviously are not a simple animal. I have made adjustments due to these extenuating circumstances, but this is a standard contract for all minions, assistants, and others employed by wizards."

He snorts. "Do I have a union?"

"Yes, subsection E, although you will need to opt-in," Nines replies, very sincerely.

Gavin taps the top paper to make a point when he asks his next question, and the paper suddenly yells the word "HEREFORE" at him.

"Oh, my apologies." Nines takes the stack from him and scribbles a few marks in the top corner. "There, the volume should be properly adjusted."

Gavin cautiously slides the papers back over, being careful to only touch the sides of the stack. He takes the first page off the top and pokes his name, one of the few words he recognizes.

"Gavin," the paper announces.

"I have paperwork I must complete to officially register you as both my familiar and my new minion," Nines tells him. "I trust you can be left to your own devices to review our contract?"

"Yeah," Gavin says.

"Very good."

Nines gets up and returns to their desk. Still no collar, only … this contract. Gavin runs his finger along the first line.

"The entity known as Gavin, herefore referred to as THE FAMILIAR, will enter into a magically binding contract with Nines, herefore referred to as THE WIZARD, to serve in the capacities of both a FAMILIAR and a MINION, as outlined by the Wizard Coalition of …"

***

Gavin nuzzles into his bed and groans. Three days of barely stopping to hunt and sleep to get here, and now it's been another three days of slowly figuring each other out.

Which hasn't been bad or anything. He got to run around outside, do a few laps around the borders of Nines's land. Cold, wet, and rocky, but he has to admit, he's kind of digging the melodramatic sea-side vibe. The air smells like salt and storms all the time, crowding out all the memories of soft earth and dense forest.

And he's got a contract. A "boss." That's the word Nines wants to use, so Gavin says that, but they both know he means Alpha.

It's good to have a job, food, and a bed, blah blah blah, he's really grateful and all, it's just—

Maybe not everyone has them or wants to indulge in them, but Gavin does for both.

And it's been nearly a week.

"Nines," he finally says.

He pokes at their bond too for good measure. The wizard won't pay attention to him unless he does. They'll look up and point their face at his face, but somehow their hand will keep writing in the scroll and they won't hear a goddamn word he says.

Even with the mental prodding, Nines barely turns their head. "Hmm?"

"I need to jack off."

Nines keeps writing for half a second before they blink and actually look at him. "… now?"

Gavin half-shrugs, still laying down. "I mean, tonight, yeah."

He's a werewolf using testosterone cream—kept in a jar in his coin purse, which was much more important to enchant to shift with him than shoes—who just formed a mental pack bond again. Full moon already past or no, his hormones are screaming at him that he needs to fuck.

But that's probably not Nines's idea of a fun bonding activity.

"Do you have adequate lubrication?" Nines asks, then continues with narrowed eyes before he can even reply, "Do not use my spell components."

Gavin barks out a laugh. "What—I'm gonna jack it with oblex ooze? That'd melt my fucking dick off!"

"Yes, it would."

He pauses. "Do … you know that for sure?"

Nines sighs. Deeply. "I attended an academy meant to train paladins, clerics, and perhaps the odd druid."

"All the most repressed spellcasters, huh?"

Nines doesn't deny it. Gavin snorts, imagining all the magically-inclined tithe-children being told to keep themselves pure so they can be properly donated to the gods turning into magically-inclined teenagers hit with guilt and libido in equal measure—and all the idiot fuckery they probably got up to without any actual education about their bodies.

"Do you have adequate lubrication?" Nines asks again. "I do not keep supplies for that on hand."

"You don't keep supplies or you don't uh, keep anything on hand?" Gavin wiggles his eyebrows.

Nines flushes and glares like they're still a prefect at that academy. "I—that is not—"

Gavin raises his own hands to prove they're above the sheets. "If that's not any of my business, sure. Figured that, honestly. Which is why I'm telling you that I've got needs, but I can just go downstairs if you want."

"Downstairs?" Nines frowns less furiously.

"That little entranceway at the door is large enou—"

"I'm not going to send you out into the hall," Nines says, like that's what will make them clutch their pearls in shock. "You can stay in your own bed."

"Yeah?" Gavin gives the wizard a once over. "I'm good with that. So good. But what I'm willing to do with pack and what you think is appropriate for a roommate probably isn't the same thing."

Nines's frown turns more calculating, like they're correcting the runes in a spell. "We are discussing you staying in your bed to masturbate while I continue my studies, correct?"

"… yeah?"

"Are you going to call me names, attempt to touch me, or—"

"No, no," Gavin rushes to reassure them. "I can just …"

He moves his hand down and cups himself, just to demonstrate that he's only going to be touching his own body, before he remembers that's not socially acceptable around humans either. Nines only cocks their head to the side though, a mild curiosity leaking through their mental bond.

And fuck, just his hand feels good right now. It's been nearly a goddamn week.

"Do you have adequate lubrication?" Nines asks.

Gavin shivers under the sound of their voice. "Don't need it. Get wet enough myself."

He feels the bond pulse again with that academic sort of curiosity, like Nines is going to start taking notes on him again while he jacks off. He pushes his trousers down, moving slowly enough to give his boss plenty of time to look away. He isn't wearing smalls of course. They'd just be another piece he'd have to pay to get enchanted.

Nines eyes his cock like they might sketch it in exact anatomical detail.

Gavin doesn't mention how he got it—his bargain and the Collar, the collapsed tower, the vows of vengeance—he'll get around to confessing it all eventually. But in the meantime: a fun bonding activity.

Gavin grips his cock and gives it a few strokes. Nines blinks in a way that's more like shutting their eyes repeatedly. He exhales slowly and makes himself stop, although he does still keep his hand held loosely around the base.

"If you don't want echoes, you'll have to wall off your mind on your own end," he advises Nines. "I'm uh … a little too busy here to concentrate."

"Echoes," Nines repeats.

Shit, right. Human. Doesn't seem to specialize in any divination or enchantment magic—so they probably don't have any experience being inside someone else's head.

"Yeah, that's why I offered to," He jerks his chin at the door. "Distance helps, some."

Nines does that tiny little head tilt again. "May I observe?"

Gavin licks his lips. "Yeah."

"May I ignore you?" they ask next.

"Uh, sure?"

He doesn't have any human hangups about nudity, but he's not going to whip his dick out and waggle it at anyone who doesn't want to see it. Jacking off in the same room is probably already pushing it, but then again, the rules seem to be different in boarding schools and barracks and sometimes bars but sometimes not—humans have so many weird fucking rules.

"Then," Nines says. "You do as you please, and I will do the same."

"Works for me."

Gavin gives his cock another squeeze, and Nines turns back to their scroll. Yeah, he's a little disappointed about that, but it's enough just to have his pack in the same room and know he's not alone.

Since the wizard isn't watching anyway, Gavin rolls over and shoves a blanket down around his crotch. He has a whole nest of them, all piled up on top of a mattress Nines insisted he have. They'd tried to bring in an actual bed, but it's just weird, sleeping so high up and away from the ground for no reason.

He gets a soft little mound built up and grips himself again through the blanket. Even if Nines makes him wash it after, this will make his bed smell like him and home and—

Gavin buries his face into his pillow and inhales. It still has Nines's scent on it. All the blankets do too, so now they'll smell like the both of them, like pack.

He feels a fresh jab of interest spike back through their bond and guesses Nines is watching him again. Maybe jacking off right in front of them like that was a little too much, but with everything mostly out of view now, they're back to curious again.

It only takes him a minute to build up a steady rhythm, rutting into the blankets and his own hand. He groans into the pillow and hears Nines breathe in sharply.

Echoes. He grins and keeps going.

He doesn't know what kind of needs Nines has or wants to fulfill, but he likes the thought of making them feel good. Would like it even better if he could crawl over between the wizard's legs and find out what they're working with by licking it.

"Gavin …"

The wolf whines in response to his name in his Alpha's mouth. He squeezes his hand tighter at the base of his cock against the knot trying to plump up there, just in case Nines wants it.

"Yeah, baby?" Gavin manages to growl.

"Oh."

Nines breathes the word, and Gavin can feel a small simmer of arousal bounce back and forth between them—this time from the wizard's end, not his.

"Does it always feel like this?" they ask.

He groans in answer, the only response he has to the soft wonder in their voice. He knows humans' senses are weak and dull, that they don't get hit with lust and frenzy the same way wolves do.

But hearing the awe in his human's voice the first time they feel it too makes him want to show them how good it can really feel.

"Yeah," he bites out. "Better with … you."

His canines get in the way of the words, the partial shift rippling through his body. He's never had particularly good control of it, so there's no stopping the change now when his blood's up.

"Are you wet?"

The question stabs through him. Gavin loses his rhythm with a whimper, nearly overcome with the instinct to crawl over and show his Alpha, present his cock or his mouth or whatever hole they want to use.

And he is wet. He can feel it dripping down the length of his cock, more pooling at the head, smearing into the palm of his hand.

"Uh huh," he pants.

Gavin bites down into the blankets as he ruts harder, but a sharply clicked tongue brings him back to awareness. He turns his head to the side and blearily stares up at Nines as he continues fucking his own hand.

"I would like to hear you," Nines says.

"Baby," Gavin breathes in reply.

Nines closes their eyes and shivers. Well, if they like his voice …

"Wanna lick you," he says. "Suck on you and make you—ahhh, make you feel good."

"I—" Nines stares at him with wide eyes.

"Shh, shhh." Gavin keeps making the noise in a low mumble as he slows down his pace into a dirty grind. "Gotcha baby, get my mouth on your nipples an' your neck, your mouth, make you wet too."

"I don't usually like to be touched," Nines admits.

Gavin's brain snatches onto the word usually, but he doesn't want to push. There's some shit he knows for sure he won't ever do, but then there's a lot more he just doesn't know if he really doesn't want, or maybe only in the right situation, with the right pronouns and body parts, the right person, but then how is he supposed to know if he wants it enough to try it if he won't know if he actually wants it until he's already tried it?

So that's a whole big nest of wyverns, and neither of them need to try to sort it out right this moment.

"Can give you this though, yeah?" Gavin asks.

He twists his wrist on the upstroke against the head, but then stops and holds completely still. Nines tries to strangle a whine in their throat at the lost sensation.

"… yes."

That confession sounds much better. Gavin grins at the wizard and starts thrusting again, still looking at them. Their long eyelashes and shoulder-length hair almost soften their face into pretty, but then thin lips, a straight nose, and strong jaw sharpen the effect back up again. And the ice-blue eyes set against pale skin and black hair just sends it all careening past beautiful or handsome into big words about being scary-haunting-magical that the wolf can't think of right now.

He can feel his orgasm building up, drowning in those eyes staring right back at him, but he squeezes harshly at the base of his cock. The sensation strangles at the root, like the little moans Nines won't let escape their mouth.

He probably shouldn't tempt it, but he sinks into the feeling of tightening and loosening his grip around his knot and the waves of pleasure that sends rolling through them both.

"You," Nines says but can't seem to find anymore words.

"Mmgff." Gavin huffs into the pillow and tries to make his own words work. "Good, feels good. Sorry. Won't knot if—fffuck."

If that scares you. Disgusts you. Bores you, to be stuck listening to him come and come and come while the exasperated wizard is trying to focus on their studies.

He pries his eyes back open when he hears footsteps and stares up at Nines paused in an awkward-half crouch over him, like they're not sure if they're allowed to touch. His tail makes the decision for both of them by immediately wagging in anticipation of pets and attention.

"May I touch you?" Nines still asks.

Gavin nods past a desperate whine. A hand slides up the back of his neck first, while another soothes over his bare flank. Must've kicked off his trousers at some point. All that matters is the hand on the back of his neck, pinning him down, holding him place, exactly where he should be for his Alpha.

His tail wags harder.

"May I see?"

The hands urge him to roll over, and he does, without hesitation, like a dog showing his belly when his master comes home.

Laying on his back like this, he knows the partial shift is even more apparent. Just about everything humans think they know is bullshit, but his hybrid form really does look like those shitty illustrations of big scary wolf men.

And that's without the thick, hairy cock jutting out between his legs.

He's proud of it, wanted it, needed it, but that was for himself. He wasn't trying to impress anyone, and he's not expecting a human to like it.

"Does your phallus typically have this appearance, or is it increasingly engorged due to your partial transformation?" Nines asks.

Gavin stares up at them and tries to impress through their mental bond just how many fucking words that was.

Nines flushes and tries again. "Does it get bigger when you shift?"

"Yeah," he says. "Touch me?"

He holds his cock slightly out toward the wizard in offering. Nines hums in consideration but doesn't make any move toward it. That's fair.

"Do you knot without …" They struggle with the words again. "Sex?"

Gavin strokes himself, tugging upward and pause at the head. It leaves his knot free below, not quite there yet, but noticeably swollen under the attention.

"Can. Sometimes."

"Will you show me?"

Nines stares down at him and meeting their eyes is like looking at the moon. Humans want so badly to sort everything into Good or Bad, even the deities they worship. But some things aren't good or bad, only intense.

Gavin nods, mouth slack and panting. He wraps his left hand around his knot to work it while his right keeps stroking the rest. Nines's eyes sweep up and down him like a search light scanning for a rogue.

"Feel … good?" he asks between pants.

Maybe he's already asked, but it's hard to think right now. He tugs at the bond, trying to pull Nines's mind closer to him, get them to come down out of the sky and feel it with him. The wizard's hands clench into the robes draped over their kneeling legs.

Then they open their eyes again, and Gavin could swear their irises really have turned a silvery-blue.

"Behave."

The order thunders down their bond and into his chest. Gavin groans, the tightness coiled inside him easing another measure. He's not quite ready to unspool, but maybe—maybe just a little?

"I am asking about you."

Nines's voice changes from questioning and a little stilted to informing him of how it is, like casting a spell. Gavin doesn't have any ability himself, but as far as he knows, that's kind of how they do it. Spell casting is just telling reality what to do with enough conviction that reality up and does it.

"Do you want to be mine?"

Gavin thrusts into his hands in answer. It's sloppy and a little pathetic, because there's nothing for him to rut into. But he starts nodding again, just in case that wasn't enough.

"Like this?" Nines touches him for the second time, one hand gently curling around his throat. "To be mine."

He's coming undone. Falling apart. Food and shelter and an Alpha, their own little pack of two, someone touching him and promising to claim him.

"Suh … 'posed to be … yours."

He knows it's true, it's true, true. The call in his mind, their contract, both of them bound by Selûne.

"Yes," Nines confirms. "Show me."

Gavin comes almost before they finish speaking. He tries to hold eye contact as long as he can, but eventually his own squeeze shut as he curls in on himself with a shudder. The first wave passes deceptively quick, with just a few spurts from his cock.

But he's not done.

"Good boy."

Those hands are back again, just like before, this time encouraging him to roll back onto his belly. They stroke through his hair and scritch behind his ears when he obeys, and he thinks life couldn't possibly get any better until there's a warm body sliding onto the mattress behind him.

Then he's being spooned and everything inside him unravels without any warning.

When he's done coming for the second time, he's aware of a few things: the hand wrapped back around his throat, first. That the gangly half-human, half-elf is tall enough to almost envelope him completely. The soft murmur of praise in his ear, shifted halfway up his head now and nearly wolf-like.

Yours.

It's harder to send the thought out when he's only partially shifted. Even with other wolves, they all share best as animals, some basic concepts as hybrids, and only faint echoes when unshifted.

But being the wizard's familiar must be different, since he'd heard the summons in his head from damn near across the country, in all forms, while Nines can't shift at all.

You are mine. I will take care of you, if you allow me to keep you.

Oh yeah, that's definitely different. Wolves share senses and feelings, not full sentences.

Keep me, Gavin manages to think back.

"Yes," Nines murmurs aloud.

The third wave hits him, and he sobs as he comes for his Alpha. His body is just doing the best it can to please, still managing to pump out another two shots of cum. He can finally feel a tinge of mild revulsion from Nines, but it seems to be aimed more at the mess than himself. Bold feelings from a wizard who left a hunk of bread to mold so long they mistook it for a stoneshroom.

"Perhaps I should invest in a toy," they muse. "A sleeve somewhat akin to a bag of holding, so that it can contain all this mess."

Gavin groans in a not-sexy way. "Don't make me fuck a void."

"No, the pocket dimension would only be applied at the tip of the—"

He can't help but start laughing. Pocket dimension applied at the tip—and said completely straight. Goddamn wizards.

Nines expresses their irritation at being laughed at by nipping his ear, and yep, there's wave number four. To their credit, they do continue to hold him until he gets another brief reprieve.

"How many times does this occur?" they ask when he's done.

"Depends," Gavin scrapes together enough brain matter to say. "More with … partner."

"Hmm," Nines says, like the feral scientist they are.

Gavin flips off his pride and goes straight to begging. "Please."

He's not sure what exactly he's begging for though—not to be forced into multiple orgasms while Nines observes or takes notes, or that the wizard will get started on that right away.

"Please, please, baby."

Nines pulls him back to rest half on top of their body, which lets them switch their right hand for their left hand around his throat without him laying on top of their arm. And that in turn frees up their right hand to drop down to his cock.

"Yours, yours," he mumbles. "Alpha."

"What do you need?"

Their hand brushes his own, the one gripping his knot. He lets go for an agonizing second to press their hand against it instead. Nines lets him wrap his hand back around theirs, using both of their hands to squeeze and lightly tug the knot.

"Ah … ahhh …"

"Ask properly," Nines orders.

"Alphaaa!"

He practically wails the word, shaking apart in Nines's arms and beneath their hand, but he can't now, it's not enough on his own anymore, not without permission.

"Hmmm."

Gavin cries freely, but doesn't make Nines grip him tighter or stroke him off. His Alpha will give him what he needs, and he'll take what he's given, like a good boy.

But that doesn't mean he can't ask for more.

"Baby," he groans. "Need it, need it, I—phck, please!"

"Yes."

The final wave sweeps over him so hard he goes blind, or his eyes shut, or he's back on his belly again, face smushed into the pillow, Nines's hand still around him and the blankets beneath his cock to rut into and it's not the last because Nines tells him Again and Again, until he's coming dry, throat hoarse from crying.

And then once more after that.

When he regains consciousness again, his whole body feels sore in the best possible way. There's drool running down his chin, tacky and drying to the pillow. He has his knees tucked up beneath him, but that's OK, because this is how he's supposed to present anyway.

Except the hand reaching between his legs doesn't breach him. Something soft and wet swipes over him instead, and he can't even muster up the mental energy to be scared, to explain why that's still there, that he managed to bargain for a working cock and all his insides scooped out, but that's still—

"Hush." Nines soothes him with another hand rubbing his back. "You did very well. All you must do now is rest."

Gavin sinks back down into the delicious ache and doesn't move while Nines cleans the slick from between his thighs, then further up to his cock. The blankets he'd rutted into have already been removed at some point. He knows from experience not even the best wizard on the material plane could wash his scent out though and takes a moment to feel a little smug about it.

"Yes, you came a truly impressive amount," Nines says. "Excessive, actually."

Gavin smacks his mouth before he can speak. "Your fault."

"Hmmm."

Nines stands when he's done and moves away. Gavin manages to flop onto his side and curl up. His boss did say he could sleep now. He just needs a little nap.

He gets a flask of water shoved in his face instead. The hand petting him goes back awkward again, pat-pat-pat instead of real pets. Nines doesn't seem to know exactly what to do now that they're done, but clean up and water was still really nice of them.

Gavin finishes gulping down the flask and heaves in air.

"I have work I need to finish," Nines informs him. "Have your needs been sufficiently met?"

Sufficiently met? Fuck, he's had orgies that didn't wear him out this good.

"Yeah," Gavin answers. "Need to sleep now."

Nines smiles at him. "Excellent. Good boy."

Gavin grins lazily back at them. "And when I wake up, I'm gonna crawl over between your legs and make you feel good too."

Nines flushes and half opens their mouth to protest.

"When you need a break from your scroll-thingy, and only if you let me," he adds.

Nines closes their mouth. They don't say anything else, but that means they also don't say no. Their blush doesn't go away either. They simply stand back up and sit down at their desk, spending far too much concentration fussing over the exact alignment of all their inks and quills instead of looking at Gavin.

Who keeps grinning, even as he yawns and snuggles down in his bed. He just needs a little nap, and then after that … he has all sorts of ideas for fun bonding activities.

***

***

This fic was commissioned by one of my followers to continue the first drabble! Subscribers to my Patreon get early access to all my commissioned fics 2 weeks before they’re posted to AO3 and tumblr ^^

[literary-spirit]

Chapter 5

The next day after first meal Bjorn, Torvi, and Bonnie cleaned out Rollo's old keep. The place was filthy. Rats the size of small puppies had made the place home and she wasn't entirely sure they weren't leaving without a knock down drag out. Aside from the rats, cobwebs and huge furry spiders dominated every crack and crevice in the structure. The situation was so dismal, she'd begun to have second thoughts. By the smug expression on Bjorn's face, she could tell he already knew she was about two seconds away from begging him to stay. Yet, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not even if she had to accept canine inspired rodents

and tarantula like spiders as her new housemates.

Once they removed most of the dry rotted furniture and she'd thoroughly scrubbed the wooden plank floors with the same lard soap they actually used to bathe with, Bjorn said they were done for the time being. Since several hours of sunlight still remained in the day, Bjorn opted to go fishing at the harbor, while Torvi went off to train with the keep's other shield maidens. Bonnie decided to remain behind to work on a spell that would transform the ingredients she gathered the day before into things needed for her hygienic care.

From the first incantation, she could tell something was off. To say something was different with her magic would've been an understatement. Kind of like calling the sun sort of hot. Yeah, she'd always been powerful, thanks to her lineage, but there was altogether a new level of potency to her sorcery. Even the aftereffect of her spell presented in a way it had never done before. This new development caused simple enchantments that had become second nature to her, to get all twisted. And after about an hour of dealing with the same results over and over again, the frustration was fucking real! She slapped some of the ingredients off the stone table.

Damn it! She hadn't had a bath in almost four days. Pretty soon, she would be looking and smelling like who did it and why the hell you let it happen. "Shit, I wish I had my L'Occitane Almond Shower Scrub Duo from home in my hands right now!"

A tingling sizzle tickled the palms before the body scrub duo materialized in her hands. Shock nearly drove her to drop the containers, but she recovered in time and placed them on the table. Holy hell? What is happening? She stared at the half-used bottles from her and Niklaus' master bathroom. How the hell did she conjure these? She wasn't a conjurer. But then again, did she really conjure them or wish for them? Wait! Then did that mean she'd somehow fucked over the immortal witch spell and now she was a got damn Jinn?! She didn't wanna be a Jinn!

Shit! Stay calm. She shouldn't panic and since Jinns couldn't make wishes themselves there's no way she could be one. Hell, she could prove she wasn't a Jinn and correct one of their latest fuck ups in the process.

She closed her eyes and whispered, "I wish I was home." Slowly, her lids lifted to reveal the same hovel she stood in before she closed her eyes. An ache cracked her chest wide, "I don't understand. Why am I here?"

"To save my sons," an imperious, but deferential voice said from behind her.

She spun around to find the Queen of Kattegat, standing in her little hole in the wall. "Queen Aslaug." Her head dipped in a bow.

"Please, do not bow to me. It is I who should bow to you," she swept down in a graceful bow. "The sorcery within demands that I must. The mystical energy that surrounds you overwhelms and amazes."

Not knowing what the hell else to say, Bonnie focused on the Queen's prior admission. "Why'd you say I'm here to save your sons?"

"Because it is the truth. I dreamt of you, before you arrived," Queen Aslaug moved around the stone table, eyeing the shower scrub duo as she went. Once in front of her she stopped and clasped hands with her. "Your presence balances the scales against the many calamities waiting to wreak havoc on us all. I've foreseen it."

"Queen Aslaug-," she began.

"Let us not provoke the gods by further talks of this nature," she squeezed Bonnie's hands before releasing them. "You should go sit by the water in the cove before second meal."

Bonnie grabbed her shower duo from the stone table and placed them in the now empty basket. "Well, I did wanna wash." She gathered her last day dress, which was stiff, rough, brown, and barely grazed her ankles. It, however, was clean.

"Then wash you must," Queen Aslaug cosigned. Her gaze darted around the keep, "Bjorn, informed me you'll be residing here." She turned back to face Bonnie. "I'd offer for you a bench in the great hall, but I believe you to prefer privacy over comfort."

Bonnie gripped the handle of the basket with both hands. "That's true."

Queen Aslaug nodded. "While you're gone, I'll have thralls come finish putting your keep to rights."

"Thank you," Bonnie said.

"It is the very least I can do," Queen Aslaug said before turning to leave.

****

After her shower under the waterfall Bonnie felt more like herself. Though she was still confused by all that had transpired since she fell backwards in time at least she'd gained some stability. Now she'd be able to start gathering the pieces and putting things together. Once she finished oiling her body she redressed and headed back into the woods. Not long into her trek she realized she was being stalked. The sun had begun to make its descent. She didn't have long before darkness fell and whatever stalked her attempted to turn her cakes into a meal.

She thought about making a run for it but every show she'd ever seen on animal planet cautioned to never willingly offer chase to a predator. Yet, she was a melanin gifted woman in a melanin challenged land, slasher flick rule numero uno demanded that she haul ass. Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

Bonnie released a harassed sigh. She neither wanted to get sweaty or bloody, "Look, you and I both know you're there so come on out. If you're gonna try and kill me you can at least face me before you carry out the deed."

A collection of seconds turned into a minute before she finally saw movement in the multiplying shadows. Moments later a shit ton of wolves varying in sizes and color inched forth on their bellies into the fading light of day.

 Each kept their heads resting on their front paws and their eyes downcast. A wolf the size of a small pony covered in golden white fur with a pair of crystal blue eyes 

continued to creep forward until his snout practically touched the toe of her shoe. Werewolves? In the Viking era? Of course, there are because no matter what the weird and freaky better known as the supernatural always seemed to know exactly where to find her! She was a fucking beacon for the strange and unexplained.

Bonnie squatted to trail her finger through the tufts of fur between his ears. "How are you all in your wolf forms when there hasn't been a full moon since I arrived. Either you're hybrid or cursed and since it'll be over another hundred years before the first hybrid is made, then you must be cursed." She trailed her hands over the length of the wolf's body. Though she sensed wild but potent magic, she didn't sense any dark energy it would take to invoke a curse. "Yet, I don't sense any dark magic." She stared into the wolf's eyes, "You fur babies must be something else altogether."

The wolf shimmered from canine to man, and then stood. One minute a gorgeous animal sat facing Bonnie, and the next all she saw was a slab of meat wearing a turtleneck of golden hair. She glanced up into a face that was cloaked in shadows by the light of the sun. For a moment, her next heartbeat refused to pound.

"Klaus?" She whispered.

A hand reached down to help her up. "I'm known as Ansel, Goddess."

"Ansel..." Wait, could he be..., "Why did you call me goddess?"

He laughed and the corners of his eyes crinkled the way Klaus' did when something genuinely amused him. "Because that is what you are, the Goddess of Twilight."

Her eyes popped. What in the Stephanie Meyer madness was he talking about? "E-excuse me who?"

"The prophecy foretold your arrival," Ansel said, still clasping her hand in his. "It was divined, your appearance would relink the descendants of Fenrir with their witchery lineage thereby affording us control over our shift."

This sounded like some sun and moon curse mumbo jumbo. Disregarding his nudity, she stepped closer. "Who spoke of this prophecy to you?" Maybe this person was a millennial throwback as well.

"We've always known of this foretelling," Ansel said, punching holes through the hope she'd managed to gather, "but the one who came before you did confirm the prophecy would come to past."

"The one who came before me?" She questioned, practically dripping desperation.

"Yes, the dark woman," Ansel answered, his eyes searching hers. "She lives deeper in the forest. Not many non-shifters venture that far into the woods. For those who have a mind to try, there are spells and curses in place to ensure no one unwanted reaches her."

"Ansel, I have to speak with her," she dropped her basket and covered both of their hands with her other, "Can you take me to her?"

His head bobbed. "Come," he knelt and picked up her basket, "it'll be quicker if you hoist yourself on my back."

****

By the time they made it to the tiny shack deep in the forest, night had fallen. Yet, the zillion twinkling stars in the black velvet sky were able to pierce the canopy of leaves and provide an adequate amount of light for Bonnie to see. Ansel placed her on the ground a foot or so away from the door of the shack. The familiar energy wafting from the keep embraced her. She knew this magic. This was the magic of her ancestors. It was Bennett magic. Her magic.

The cloth barrier to the dwelling shifted and out stepped Ayanna Bennett. 

She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, but she could've been older. Bonnie had come to know her well during her brief afterlife on the other side. "You have the look of my mother. I don't even have to sense it to know you're my own."

For the first time since she'd been dropped in the middle of time Bonnie broke. She tumbled into Ayanna's arms and fell to pieces.

"Help me," she whispered.

"You're the answer to all of our cries," Ayanna whispered next to her ear. "The Goddess of All would not have sent you to us lacking. Whatever is needed you already carry with you. Come, we have much to discuss."

Once inside, Bonnie sat on a wooden bench next to a stone alter.

Ayanna handed her a smoldering cup of tan liquid. "Drink, it's an herbal concoction meant to ease fits. It also aids in uncluttering your third sight." Without further urging, she sipped the tea. "Now, tell me all."

"It all started with this ancient evil and an immortal man willing to sacrifice his eternity to save his child," she began, "and the sacrifice his lover made so he wouldn't have to." For the next several hours Bonnie recounted the entire twisted tale of her and Klaus. By the time she was finished, she could barely keep her eyes open.

"So, why do you believe this Niklaus is the Viking to which the prophecy refers?" Ayanna questioned.

Bonnie laughed like Ayanna had out joked Kevin Hart. "Who else is of Viking descent and stronger than Klaus?"

"Who else indeed! Seems to me, all you have to do is march back to Kattegat and tap one of the many Vikings there on the shoulder. I wager any number of them is stronger than this Niklaus," she said, waving a hand as if she was waving off the very thought of Klaus. "And why would you want to form a mate bond with him? The same disrespectful dolt who places other witches over you in his regard. As if anyone other than a witch of our familial line could shoulder the burden of being the eternal witch."

Bonnie's eyes closed and remained so. "Did I mention Ansel's his father?"

"Ansel?"

Klaus' fathers name is the last thing Bonnie heard Ayanna speak before sleep claimed her.

****

"We have to get her back. The sons of Ragnar Lothbrok is ripping away the forest looking for her," Ansel's voice penetrated the thick fog of sleep that held her captive.

She heard a clucking sound, then Ayanna. "Calm yourself. They'll never make it past the first line of magic."

"That is what I'm trying to tell you, woman," Ansel bellowed. Frustration clear and plain in his tone, "they already have."

"What? How is that..." Ayanna's voice trailed off. "It's her. Her magic shields them. Why is this so?" A moment past, and then she felt Ayanna's lips at her ear. "You've learned many things on your spiritual voyage last eve. Things which must be considered. You have to return, Bonnie. For not only have you and your wolf achieved the goal you sought, but you've also attained so much more."

When next she opened her eyes, she was laying on a pile of fallen leaves and wildflowers. Her basket sat next to her head, while every last son of Ragnar stood staring down at her with varying expressions. Actually, everyone except Ivar who more or less leaned over her shooting her a unit inspired with nothing but ill intent.

"Um, good morning," she said, lacking anything of note to say.

****

"I thought you'd been raped and killed by Skogarmaors!" Bjorn yelled in her face as she drooped on a bench in the great hall.

Queen Aslaug's eyes rolled at Bjorn's antics,

 while his brothers peered on in silence. Their faces giving nothing away.

She had a banging headache and Bjorn was nowhere close to easing her pain. "I'm sorry, Bjorn. It wasn't my intention to worry you are your family."

"Ack! Loki take your intentions," He threw up his hands and turned away from her, "I have no worries for your intentions. For all I know they're harried paving a path to Helheim."

"Where were you, hmm?" Ivar questioned. His stare unwavering as always. "Your appearance speaks of you being sheltered from the elements. So, who sheltered you?"

"On my way back from the Cove I met someone in the woods. He told me some things that lead me to believe he knew someone who could understand the reason I've come to be here," she said, attempting to be as honest as she could without placing Ansel or Ayanna in danger.

"You said, he told you," Bjorn turned around to face her.

She gave him a slow nod, "yes."

"Name this man," Bjorn demanded.

Reluctantly, she shook her head. "I'd rather not."

"I've heard sagas of a dark woman dwelling in the deep of the forest," Ivar said, while his steady gaze tracked each expression that crossed her face. "Many have spoken tales of her being a witch."

Queen Aslaug laughed. "Ivar, halt with your tales of spirits and witches. You're being distressing."

"Did you allow yourself to be plowed by this man?" Sigurd asked, straight facing the hell out of her.

"Sigurd!" Queen Aslaug released a heavy sigh before taking a sip from her cup.

"What? I'm sure that was Bjorn's next line of questioning," he defended.

"No," Bonnie snapped, chopping Sigurd up with a unit meant to leave him DOA, "There was absolutely no plowing going on between me and this man." To her surprise, Bjorn exhaled a sigh that appeared to be motivated by relief. She stood and walked over to Bjorn. Placing a hand on his arm, she gazed up at him, "the only reason I followed him is for answers. That's all, Bjorn. I swear it upon our oath."

She watched the anger and tension drain from his face as he reached up to cup her cheek. "Did you learn anything?"

"No," she emphasized with a sad dejected shake of the head, "I was given some kind of herbal concoction while there and I fell asleep before finding out anything. When I awakened, you guys were standing over me."

"I'm sure in time you'll have your answers," he allowed his thumb to trace the path of her cheek before returning his hand to his side.

She gazed out the great hall door toward the forest and prayed to the mother of all he was right.

[queenbirbs]

the way home | Ch. 4 | Edward x MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x MC

Word count: 2,308

Warnings: language, violence, violence against women

Read from the beginning or continue on Read on AO3

Tag list: @writinghereandthere |  @not-sewell

------

By the next week, they’ve sailed across most of the northern Caribbean. 

Their crew hits a couple merchant ships and capsizes a few galleons. Captain Delaney is pleased when they manage to sink a frigate off the coast of New Providence, having some long-standing feud with the Royal Navy. Elena considers them to be kindred spirits in that regard. Attacking a royal vessel outright, though, paints a proverbial target on their back. 

They anchor inside a cove on St. Fisher, a hole-in-the-wall port among the long string of islands in the Bahamas. Delaney sends the crew off in a jolly boat to retrieve supplies before trying for Cuba to hide out amongst the Spanish. 

“He’s a moron for attacking them on their own turf,” Robert grumbles as they make their way through the town’s pastel-colored buildings. 

Elena, too busy scanning the shoppers in the market, hums her agreement. The stall up ahead sells gaudy-looking trinkets that catch the sunlight as they swing in the ocean breeze. She wishes she could send one to her sister, somehow. 

The cannonfire comes with no warning. 

Discordant blasts echo across the port again and again and again with not a single pause. Thick, billowing clouds of smoke rise over the palm trees, darkening the blue sky. While everyone rushes deeper into town, Elena and Robert race towards the cove, slicing through the flora and fauna that block their path. Seconds before they reach the flat stretch of sand, he seizes her elbow and covers her mouth, just in time to muffle her cry at the scene before them.

Little Death is keeled over, resting on its starboard side as flames consume what remains above the waterline. Delaney is nowhere to be found. The crew who made it to shore in time lay sprawled across the beach. The whites of their skulls gleam amongst the blood and brain matter coating the sand around them, each shot execution-style. 

“Their jolly boat’s missin’!” a navy officer calls out. “Search the island!” 

“Shit. Fuck. Shit.” 

“C’mon,” Robert growls as he swings her around and guides her back up their makeshift path. “We may not know this island, but--”

At the sound of men pushing down the path from town, he picks her up and bodily moves her into the forest’s thick foliage. 

“What the hell are you--”

“Shut up!” he hisses, shoving her down into the cover of wide-leafed bush. “Stay here.”

“What’s your plan then, to offer yourself up on a platter?!” Elena grabs his coat and holds tight, preventing him from moving off. “That’s the stupidest--”

“I can distract them, give you enough time to circle back and find a better place to hide. They’ll shove off with me, then another ship’ll come by soon and need an extra hand.” 

The sound of a pistol being cocked interrupts their hushed argument. In their crouched position, they both glance up to see swatches of dark blue uniforms peeking through the trees ahead. 

“Come on out, now, the both of ye!” one of the sailors taunts. 

Robert’s expression shutters as he rises to his feet and steps out onto the path. 

“If it isn’t Robert Cutter himself!” the officer crows. “Performed quite the disappearing act on us a few years back. Looks like fate caught up with you, though, hmm?”

“Looks like,” he mocks. Two of the lackeys grab hold of each arm; he bites back a grunt when the officer punches him in the stomach. 

“And where’s yer lady friend?” one of the sailors asks. “Come on out, miss. Don’t be shy!” 

Realizing that staying hidden is a hopeless tactic, Elena makes her way out of cover. Three of the men whistle at her, while the officer leers at her with something akin to delight. 

“I shoulda known the two of you would be mixed-up in this. Sinking a crown vessel, that’s child’s play for you two. Murdering a governor and an admiral is more yer style, idn’t it?” 

As one of the sailors strips her of her weapons, Elena glares at the officer. Though she can’t recall his name, he’s one of the men who stormed the beach while defending the Admiral.   

“We’re innocent of both those crimes,” she says. “Though I don’t expect you’ll believe me.” 

His shoulders shake with a sardonic chuckle. 

“No, I’m afraid not. Yer a pirate -- you only know how to do two things with that mouth of yers. The first is lying and the second is su--”

Elena grabs him by the shoulder and headbutts him. The officer caterwauls and clutches his nose. Blood trickles down his chin and drips onto his uniform in fat, red splotches. She hides her wince as Robert laughs long and hard, ignoring the sailors’ orders to shut up. “You bitch! I saw you make off with the Admiral. You dragged him inside that temple and sacrificed him to Satan himself!” 

“She’s a witch?” one of the sailors asks.

“I thought she were a pirate,” another mutters.

“I’m not a witch,” Elena scoffs. “And, for the last time, I didn’t kill your admiral.” 

“I don’t care what you are!” The officer yanks a handkerchief from his coat and dabs it against his nose. “Right now, yer a means to an end. We’ve heard all about the bounty on yer head. We’ll use you to draw Mortemer out. Besides, what’s better than catching one pirate?”

“Two pirates!” one of the sailors cackles. 

“Well, technically,” Robert says, “you’ve already got two of us here--”    

“Oh, shut up, Cutter!” the officer spits. “Take them down to the beach, men.”

The bickering around her fades to an annoying buzz as she trudges along the path. If they do manage to get word to Edward, she knows there’s no force that will stop him from coming after her. That he would be walking straight into a trap would cross his mind, and then he would do it anyway. Elena can’t fault him for it, because she would do the same. And, if it weren’t for the high probability of being executed, she would go along with it. But she doesn’t want their long-awaited reunion to be side-by-side at the gallows.

She comes to a sudden stop. The caravan of men behind her scowl and curse.

“What’re you doin’? Keep movin’!”

She digs her boots into the sand, lurching when the sailor beside her shoves her hard. Turning to catch Robert’s eye, she snatches the sailor’s pistol from his holster and takes aim. 

“Run.” 

Robert yanks free as she fires. The sailor shouts and grabs his bleeding arm, falling back when the other two come rushing forward. She twirls the pistol in her grip and smacks it upside another’s head, using the momentum to shove him into the bushes. The third man tackles her from the side and they crash down onto the sand. Struggling for control, Elena manages to work her leg underneath his massive form and lands a solid kick between his legs. The officer rushes over just as the man rolls off, clutching his injured pride. 

“Restrain her, you fucking--” he cuts off his own order with a sharp cry. He collapses onto his ass, clutching his leg as blood soaks his white breeches. “She-- she shot me! Get that pistol from her, you idiots!” 

A massive weight crushes her from behind and shoves her down onto her stomach. The sailor she shot slams his fist into her side, knocking the wind out of her. Elena gasps for air, choking on bits of sand. He plucks the pistol from her loosened grip with ease. 

“Hold her down,” the officer demands. “She’ll be less trouble if she’s unconscious.” 

Fear pounds through her chest when the sailor’s hand seizes a chunk of her hair and yanks her up. The last thing she sees is the pistol coming down. 

Underneath him, her body goes limp. He waits a few more seconds before pulling a length of rope from his pocket. After tying her up with a decent-enough knot, he sits up to assess his arm and check on his crew. 

“Oi,” he grumbles as he glances down the path, “where’d Cutter go?”

------

The brig’s interior becomes a familiar sight by the second day. 

That’s how long Elena thinks she’s been down here. The solitary porthole above her head is caked with too much filth to let any proper light in. So, she calculates the hours by the sorry excuses for meals that they bring her. A few crumbs of hardtack and bits of dried mystery meat make up most of her diet. 

Waking up on a cell floor with her hands and feet bound wasn’t an enjoyable moment. If she could rate it, she’d give it a solid zero out of ten. Especially when that immediate rush of panic ebbed to allow a fresh wave to roll over her: she was being carted along to be killed. 

The one plus side of her new accomodations, though, is the cold wall of the hull. It’s as good as any cold compress against her injured body. What she wouldn’t give for one of those ibuprofens she stowed away in her duffel bag -- the bag that’s buried on the outskirts of town on Santo Domingo. 

She hopes that Robert was able to escape. She hopes that he was able to get word to Edward not to come after her. She hopes that when Edward inevitably ignores the warning and comes anyway, she manages to intercept him herself. What’s that old saying about if wishes were horses? 

Footsteps on the stairs tear Elena from her woolgathering. The slow, measured pace of them tells her who it is before he shows his face. 

“How’s the leg?” she asks when the officer steps in front of her cell door. 

Officer Horowitz levels a grimace at her, his lips turning inward with disgust. He drops the wooden plate in his hand and kicks it underneath the door with his good leg; the meager contents spill across the dirty planks. Elena glances down at her dinner and back up at him. “I’m giving your presentation a one out of five stars on Yelp.” 

“That nonsense yer spouting has gotten old,” he spats. “It’s a good thing, then, that we’re about to anchor. You and yer pirate captain’ll be dancin’ in the gallows soon enough.”

She bites back that daunting feeling of failure and settles back against the wall with a shrug. 

“Sounds like I don’t have much time, then. I guess I should come clean with my sins and all that.”

“I haven’t the slightest interest in hearing about yer--”

“Really?” She tilts her head and studies him. “You don’t want to know what I did with the Admiral?” 

Horowitz bristles at the name, but shakes his head. 

“I don’t want to hear the gristly details of yer sick, ritualistic--” 

“For the last time,” Elena says with a dramatic sigh, “I didn’t kill him. I opened up a hole in the universe, and I put him in it.”

“That’s nonsense.”

“It’s not, really. It was as easy as tying your shoe. If you know how to do that, of course. I don’t like to presume.”

Crossing his arms across his chest, he scoffs. 

“Then where is he?” 

“I sent him to his worst nightmare: a place with no one to listen to him. There’s this remote island in the south Atlantic Ocean, about twelve-hundred miles from Argentina. Sorta like The Cask of Amontillado -- which you’ll sadly never get to read, it’s a great story -- but on forty square miles of uninhabited land. And without chaining him up or burning him alive.”

“You marooned him,” he surmises.  

“Marooning him implies that I gave him some food and a gun. But I didn’t. The island won’t be discovered until 1767. The Spanish explorers name it Isla de Aislamiento -- that means ‘Isolation Island.’ Upon arrival, they’ll find the oddest thing: a human skeleton, wearing what appears to be a British naval uniform and a few medals.”

“I don’t believe a word you say.” Clenching his hands along the cell door, he sneers at her. “Yer a filthy, goddamned liar. How are you to know the future?”

“I read about it.” 

Which is the truth, but Elena knows how little that will matter. After teaming up with Robert upon her first arrival back to her time, she found herself curious about Admiral Cochrane’s fate. After coming across a man with an identical rank and surname, she worried that she’d made a mistake and sent him farther into the future, that maybe he’d managed to escape and make something of himself. But the portrait of the other Admiral Cochrane, famed for losing the Battle of New Orleans, resembled nothing of the man she’d dealt with. 

Eventually, one of Robert’s many contacts sent her the diary entry of a Spanish explorer that detailed their unusual discovery. They left the corpse where it lay and pilfered the medals to melt down and mash into coins. The entry was as good as any death certificate. 

Judging by the look of disgust on his face, Horowitz doesn’t seem to find her explanation all that funny. 

“I knew you were a witch the first time I saw you. No matter how you spin it, I know that you killed the Admiral. Watching you two hang will be the highlight of my year.” 

He spits at her through the door and turns to go. Elena waits for the sound of his uneven footfalls to fade before she slumps back against the wall. Despite the heavy weight on her shoulders, she can’t help the small sliver of joy at knowing Edward is near. Horowitz had all but confirmed it, with his gleeful chatter about them hanging together. 

She just has to make sure that part doesn’t come to pass. 

------

References:

A few Uncharted ones, but they’re all very minuscule. Think of them like the hidden pictures puzzles in those Highlight Magazines they always had in waiting rooms when you were a kid.

[badassllamaclan]

There’s one thing from college that I will never forgive and never forget.

In my documentary class, we watched The Cove, 2009. For those who do not know, it’s a documentary about a small whaling town in Japan. The town is also known for dolphin drive hunts, the main topic of the documentary. It shows the dolphins are slaughtered and sold for their meat in supermarkets. The fishermen also have a deal with local schools that makes it possible for all students to receive hot lunches at no cost to families. The Japanese government is part of trying to hide the existence of dolphin drive hunts from the Japanese public. They also hide the fact that the dolphin meat has a high mercury content and is making the fisherman and the people in town very sick. The documentary concludes with activist protests at a whaling convention.

After watching the documentary, the teacher (he’s not a professor, trust me) asked us what our opinions were. When no one else said anything I raised my hand and said the documentary was biased. The teacher was noticeably caught off-guard and asked me to explain.

Now, I’m going to preface this with the fact that I took an intro sociology class my junior year of high school. Even with just the basics I was able to identify the issues with this documentary. It’s obvious that the purpose of the documentary is to raise awareness of these dolphin drive hunts and to create opposition for its continuation.

So I explained how the documentary is very one-sided, in the sense that there was little to no input from the people and fishermen of this town. They were heavily demonized and were not given the opportunity to defend themselves. The reality of the situation is that the fishermen and townspeople are uneducated about the situation and literally don’t know any better. They are not aware of how damaging it is to their health. Additionally their entire economy is based around this industry, it is all they know how to do. You can not demand/ask them to stop without offering aid/alternatives. Their entire economy would collapse if you do not help them establish a new/different industry.

What these fishermen do is wrong, there’s no question, but they are people too. They are human. They deserve to be able to provide for themselves in a way that makes them able to maintain basic human necessities for themselves, their families, and the townspeople.

Now, the part I will never forgive is that this teacher had the audacity to tell me I was wrong, in front of the entire class, and refused to explain why when I asked. In fact he instead chose to highlight the fact that during my explanation I said village instead of town a few times. They are not a small village, was apparently enough of an explanation for him. He did not dispute any of my claims, and simply tried to say I didn’t know what I was talking about when I argued that it was basic sociology.

Unfortunately, I was rather upset and distraught that the teacher was using his superiority complex to actively try and embarrass me in front of my classmates. So I did not bring up the several documentaries and articles that discuss the documentary’s bias and the lasting effects it has had on the town. Some of which include Whale of a Tale, 2016 and Behind “The Cove”, 2015, and this article.

Aka, long story short... YOU SIR ARE AN UNEDUCATED FUCKHEAD WITH A SUPERIORITY COMPLEX AND NEED TO GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS!

[theyoftenwhisper]

The funny thing about playing RDR2 is that in reality the timeline is quite condensed. At one point Arthur says they’ve been on the run for months but it can’t be more than 3-4 or so total if the game starts in May because it never looks like autumn. But I peace the fuck out for literally weeks at a time. Some things happen in the story one day after the other but by the time I get back I’m like, “Wait, what happened????”

Or when the gang get to Clemens Cove and Dutch is like, “Arthur, go find out information in the town nearby,” and I’m all, “Will do. ...After I go hunting, fishing, rob some trains, avoid or kill bounty hunters, meet a bunch of folk and help their dumb asses out, upgrade ALL of my gear, try and collect as many of the stupid Algernon items as I can, go to every place on the map that I can reach, try and get as far into the Wanted Dead or Alive areas of West Elizabeth that I can get without dying, find a shitton of pick-ups, hunt for treasure, finish as many challenges as I can, play a crapton of poker.......and then I’ll head back 15-20k richer and not give you a dime minus money earned with pelts and meat that I turn in.”

On my Low Honor play through this time, I spent literally days in Rhodes robbing from horses or outright stealing them without consequence since the game is programmed to “not cause trouble” so you can fuck shit up to your hearts content so long as you don’t use weapons. All the while Arthur is a sheriffs deputy! Worst lawman ever.

Dutch: We’re Deputies now. Let’s cozy up to the locals to rob them of their gold. Don’t cause trouble.

Arthur: Okay. I’ll get right on that...

And then he steals a horse, mows down a line of men leaving the saloon in the morning, and then loots their bodies right in front of the other deputies.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Wet Sugar” [Part 17 of 30]

Summary: Erik considers a different life...

NSFW. Mature Audience. Smut.

"Twistin', kissin', lifted off of your vision Got me on my knees, you're my religion Speakin' tongues all on your body, no one's listenin' Tap out on you, that's a submission, know you give in? Can't let no time go wasted This moment, can't replace it Sittin' around so lazy Comfortably, we'll fade away…"

Lucky Daye- "Roll Some Mo"

He saw her come home.

With Zachary.

The tension in his face and the accusatory tone in his voice upset her. The high she was on from having him back, having him in her arms again crashed down around her as she saw a glint of anger in his eyes.

"Don't be vex."

"I'm not. I’m asking a simple question."

"You saw he gave me a ride home. I was upset about you being gone. He probably wanted to make sure I was—"

"Nah, he was tryna take advantage of the situation."

Sydette toddled around them both, swinging her doll baby and grabbing for Erik's leg then Yani's. She tossed the doll into the air.

"Mama..Baba…look!"

Yani watched her daughter move around them. She felt the binding of small knots forming in her stomach. The same type of knots she would get when Chez used to accuse her of cheating or flirting or doing anything he deemed inappropriate.

The more niggas changed the more they stayed the same.

She normally checked the security feeds first thing in the morning, and totally forgot about it once she was in Erik's arms again. Zachary meant no harm. She was sure of that. But she also got the feeling that Zachary had grown a pair since their last encounter because he didn't act intimidated by Erik.

"I thought you were dead."

"I know I was gone long. But you just jumped to me being dead so quick?"

He inched closer to her. Sydette's hand held onto his leg.

"I didn't know what to think. Klaue…I've heard him talk of his men being killed after they leave here. You told me bad things happen."

His eyes softened.

"Zachary listened to me. I told him how I was feeling…he listened to me. That's all. I was in a bad way and he listened to me express my fears. I didn't ask him to come back here."

"He should've called you. I don't want him coming up here like that. Shit ain't cool. Why you shaking your head?"

"Mi no child. You talkin' to me like mi Sweet Pea or Bam…like I'm not a grown-ass woman. Acting like you scared of him. Like him come up here and steal mi away—"

Yani tilted her neck.

"Yuh think that, Killmonger?"

Her voice went up an octave and Erik's eyes shifted away from hers and his lips formed a serious pout.

"Serious?"

Yani sucked her teeth and reached out to stroke his cheek. He pulled back from her and glanced down at Sydette who kept patting his leg to get his attention.

For true.

He was worried.

"I ever give you cause for concern?"

His eyes finally settled back on her face.

"Nah. But you didn't have to kiss him."

"It was nothing. A simple thank you. For listenin'. For gettin' mi home safe."

She stepped closer to him and lifted her head up. Her lips touched his, light as a feather.

"That's all it was."

His eyes were closed when she pulled back.

"But mi kiss you like this."

Yani touched his cheek again, then ran her fingers through his hair before she pulled his face down close to hers.

Searing. Wet. Open-mouthed. Tongues dancing.

Yani felt her daughter's hand touch her knee. She pulled back from Erik and his body leaned forward to follow her when she did. His hands cradled her face as he dove back into her mouth.

Shit.

He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Dragging her nails softly along the nape of his neck, Erik's lips enchanted her. Enticed her. Made her push back on the red flags she was feeling when he questioned her at the front gate.

She leaned back from his face and his eyes were still closed.

"Mama, up!"

Yani glanced down at her baby and Sydette had her arms reaching for the sky.

"I got you baby girl," Erik said.

He let Yani drop back down to her bare feet and he leaned down to raise Sydette up.

"Hungry?" he asked Sydette.

"Yes!"

"C'mon, let's make your Mama breakfast and then we can go swim. Okay?"

Head nodding vigorously, Sydette pointed to the floor.

"Bring baby," she said.

"You want your baby to cook with us?"

"Yes!"

Yani picked it up from the floor and handed it to Sydette. She watched Erik waltz away with her daughter and for a moment she thought of joining them. But she wanted to get to her phone first.

Slipping into the master bedroom, Yani snatched her phone from the nightstand. Swiped quickly.

"Yani—"

"What were you doing back here?"

She could hear Zachary still driving in his car.

"Checking on you. That man staying there with you?"

"He works for my boss."

"That's the dude from that night. The one you drove home with—"

"Yeah—"

"He's your man?"

Silence.

"He's the one you were cryin' about? The one who ghosted you?"

"He came home last night."

"Came home?"

Yani rubbed her forehead.

"You moved on fast then. I didn't have a chance."

"You left me, Zachary. I wanted to be with you."

"I was stupid. I should've had you stay."

"You can't come over here again."

"He tell you that?"

Yani couldn't answer. She stared at her reflection in the wall mirror.

"If it don't work out, I want another chance."

"Zachary—"

"I'll wait for you, Yani."

Him so sweet. Still.

Had he been that way on that night, taken his lumps and let her nurse him back, maybe they would've been a real couple.

She could smell frying meat and the rich aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. Her stomach growled. Famished.

"I gotta go."

"Call me sometime. Just to talk or whatever. No pressure."

"Okay."

She hung up.

The walk into the kitchen had her feeling antsy, but when she saw Sydette sitting on the kitchen island watching Erik make the waffle batter, her little doll baby cradled in her chunky arm, Yani felt like the choice had been made for her as to who she was supposed to be with.

"What is this?" Erik asked Sydette.

"Ah egg."

"Where do we put it?"

Sydette pointed to her belly and Erik laughed.

"How we gonna make the waffles without the egg, Sweet Pea?"

Erik cracked several eggs against the mixing bowl and quickly stirred in milk and cinnamon with a touch of vanilla extract. Sydette watched him whip up the batter and he let her stick her finger in and taste the concoction.

"Good?" he asked.

She wiggled her hips.

"Good," she answered.

"Alright, we are ready to pour this on the griddle…hey, baby."

His eyes took Yani in.

"Hey. Smells good in here."

"Bacon and sausage…do me a favor, take that coffee off for me…hold on Sweet Pea, you'll be eating soon."

"Ova there," Sydette said reaching for him.

Yani picked up Sydette and carried her over to the griddle so she could watch Erik pour in the batter and close the waffle maker lid. Her daughter's eyes were fascinated with the liquid pouring over the deep squares, and there was a look of delight when Erik lifted it back up to reveal thick fluffy waffles and not wet batter.

Erik heard Yani's stomach grumble. He grinned.

"Almost done."

"I'm not rushing you."

Yani put Sydette on the floor and handed her a few napkins to carry.

"Take that to the table outside."

Yani grabbed the plates and silverware Erik had on the island and followed her daughter out onto the porch.

She set the small table that they used to eat on and helped Sydette put the napkins next to each plate.

"Get you in your chair, c'mon…"

Erik brought out a serving tray for the meat and a platter of waffles. Yani retrieved butter and syrup.

Their breakfast was pleasant and she couldn't stop staring at Erik. His eyes were bright and playful and he carried on a full conversation with Sydette who kept trying to out-talk him. He was so focused on Sweet Pea that she was able to take in his dangerous beauty. His smiles made her tingle all over, especially when his dimples popped in and out. He had trimmed his beard and mustache giving his face a polished look. When he looked at her there was a sense of peace in his eyes. He was home. With them. She could breathe again.

Yani reached out and touched his hair.

"Lemme, do this for you later," she said. He nodded.

They cleaned up breakfast, changed into swimwear, and walked down to the cove together. Yani carried a book bag, blankets and some coverage for Sydette.

"Bustin' outta that shit girl."

He caressed her breasts inside her bikini top and she slapped at his hands.

Sydette walked in front of them, stopping every few feet to pick up rocks and then broken shells.

"Take that out of your mouth. Not candy," Yani said pushing away a tiny corkscrew shell that Sydette held up to her mouth.

Water in sight, Sydette took off running with Erik right behind her. She fell in the water and Erik helped her back up, while Yani smoothed out two big blankets and the small pop up tent on the sand in a shaded spot.

"Hold on," Erik said.

"'kay," Sydette responded.

Erik held Sydette and waded out to his chest before he let her go. Yani felt proud at how well her daughter could tread before she was dog-paddling to hold onto Erik's neck again. She joined them and they frolicked in the water a long time until Sydette grew weary.

Back on land she and Erik watched the baby play in the sand until it got too warm and she grew sleepy. Yani placed Sydette inside the pop-up tent in the shade and zipped it shut to keep mosquitoes away from her.

Sprawled out next to Erik, Yani stared up at the sky with him, the sun hot but not scorching yet. His hand reached over and held hers.

"I'm sorry."

Erik's voice was small.

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry I couldn't contact you. Sorry for questioning you about Zachary. I wish I could tell you everything about my life, but it isn't safe. At least not now. I wish we could stay like this forever—"

"But we could. Leave Klaue."

"I can't. Not yet…"

Yani watched a slow cloud drift in a lazy swirl across the sky before she closed her eyes. She wished he could stay with them forever. He was there with them for a little longer. That would have to be enough.

###

Erik turned his head on the blanket to stare at Yani. Her eyes were closed and her face was relaxed. Her skin was sun-bronzed to a rich hue.

This could be his life.

Erik imagined them getting their own little house on another hill somewhere. He could work on the island while she became a nurse. They could raise Sydette together. He could bring them to Oakland to meet his grandpop, or take them to D.C. to see his play Uncle Bakari and Aunt Shavonne. There was London and his play Aunt Serah and Uncle Addae. He could take them to Brazil, teach Sydette capoeira with his play cousin Marisol…

He could live a life. A real one. He could have what his parents never had.

He shocked his own mind with his other thoughts.

A child.

He could have a child with her. His very own. He could give Sydette a sibling.

His eyes trailed up and down Yani's body.

The idea sprouted.

Yani carrying his child.

Their lovemaking was already intense and often beyond wild, but what would it feel like to intentionally want to place his seed in her womb to take root?

Blood rushed to his manhood.

What would she look like with a swollen belly that he caused?

He could taste his own baby's milk first.

He could cook for her and his child.

He could make Sydette his.

A family.

He could have it.

"Whew..getting hot now. I'm going in the water…what?" she said.

Yani sat up rubbing her arm, her skin darker. She moved to get off of the blanket but he pulled her arm toward him.

He sought out her mouth and when they connected, he pushed her back onto the blanket. His lips burned with the need to keep her close, and when he heard her groaning, his tongue went deeper. He shifted above her and her legs opened allowing him to rest his erection on her mound. He held his weight up with his hands as he continued ravishing her mouth, his full lips overpowering her into submission.

His fingers slid to untie her bikini bottom. He wasted little time plucking off her top and letting her heavy breasts go free.

Releasing her lips, he sat back on his knees and looked down at her vulva.

So fat. So juicy. Her inner labia wings plump and wide open for him.

He pulled off his trunks and her eyes flicked over to the baby's beach tent.

"She's fine," he said.

Pushing her thighs wide open he felt his mouth water. Her eyes gazed down at his thick shaft and he stroked it for her. Her lips quirked.

"Killmonger."

His eyes blinked hard, her voice bending him. He prayed to God that she would never say his name like that when she begged him to quit his life with Klaue. All his years of preparation and sacrifice could go up in smoke. It almost happened once, but he forged ahead, never thinking another woman could ever put him in that position again.

He squeezed the tip of his dick, let her see how hard he was for her. His body was on fire and it took little time for his pre-cum to spill out. He slid it up and down his rigid cock, and when he had it fat and glistening, he tapped it gently on her clit.

"Oh!"

Her gasp made his balls jump.

He sank down and pressed his lips into her folds, her legs reaching up to the blue sky. Smacking his lips, he spit on her clit and traced an infinity sign with his tongue up and down her wet pussy. Moaning her name while he drank from her center, he felt the growing need to enter her. He raised above her again and nibbled on her earlobes, running the tip of his tongue along the shell. "Yani," he whispered.

Her moans of pleasure tickled his ears and made his dick bob with desperate anticipation.

"Still love me?" he asked.

Yani's fingers reached up and gripped his erection and they both watched the pooling of pre-sum seep from his slit. Her touch was electric and Erik lined himself up with her throbbing opening and rested his glans there. All her juicy pink flowered open with sticky abandon.

A life with her.

Putting life in her.

"Ooohh…." she moaned.

Yani's hips buckled when he pressed into her, stretching her opening, his girth pushing in slow inch by inch. His hands caressed her breasts and when his dick bottomed out, he gave slow deep thrusts.

Big thighs slick with sweat, breasts pliant in his hands, her hips winding and her pussy surrounding his shaft tight, Erik couldn't help but moan and groan as he pumped into her with a purpose.

"Damn, Yani…fuck me baby…fuck me…"

His eyes felt like liquid as his strokes were hitting their mark, Yani's head whipping back and forth from the sensations he gave her. Rich gushy sounds came from their joining, and when his fingers pinched her nipples, thoughts of impregnating her ran wild in his head again.

"Oh shit!" he cried out when she lifted her legs higher and held them with her hands.

They could hear his balls smacking her cheeks and her pussy was creaming on his dick. Looking down he could see her juices coating his long shaft, the glossy slickness making him slip and hit the side of her walls. He was working her pussy hard and her back was jammed down onto the blanket and on the sand underneath. Her fingernails raked at a few keloids on his arms, and the sensation was both pleasurable and a little painful.

Her eyes held his in a powerful gaze when he locked her legs around him. He wanted to flood her womb. Swiveling his hips, he hit another side of her tight walls and she yelped with surprise when he sank further in. He was hitting her cervix and he pressed deeper to get his spongy tip right against it.

"Killmonger…God…my pussy," she whimpered.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and his eyes traced the horizon of the sea before him.

How was this possible?

To be here like that with her and wanting to make a baby?

Him.

A baby.

His fucked up life and past. His brutal work and destruction across the globe. His burning rage for revenge and putting King T'Chaka and Prince T'Challa deep in the dirt of his father's homeland. He was going to be a King one day soon. He was going to shake up the world.

Now was not the time to make a child. It was time for plotting. A time for taking. Not making.

But her eyes were on him, those eyes that made him weak every time he looked at her damn face. Fucking Yani.

Why the fuck did she have to be swimming naked in the sea that day? Why did she have to be here? She twisted up everything, spun him out of control. Made him question his whole life trajectory.

"Shit!" he yelled.

He pumped harder into her, a tinge of anger heating his thrusts. She was fucking up his mental state. She was fucking up his legacy. He had gotten past it with Disa, but this beautiful bitch taking his thick dick right under him was dragging him back into uncertainty.

"You take this fucking dick, baby…look at you taking this big dick!" he shouted.

He lifted up and pinned his fists onto the blanket and slammed his erection into her. Her breasts bounced wildly and her thick cheeks smacked so loud against him. She was uttering sounds that had him on edge and ready to spill his cum so deep inside of her.

"Yeah…yeah…I know you missed Daddy's dick…I see how you acting wit it. Pussy swallowing my shit…"

He wanted to create something precious with her.

For once give life instead of snatching it away.

Yani's arms clutched him tight, her body submitting to his desire for her.

"Baby…got my balls soaked!"

Blood thundered in his ears and face. He felt his nuts tighten, along with the cords in his neck.

"I missed you so much Killmonger…"

Her face was angelic, her plump lips parted and so ready for more sloppy wet kisses.

"I'ma nut so deep in your pussy, Yani…so fucking deep."

His groin was soaked with her fluid and more sticky juices flowed out from her pussy. He couldn't keep his eyes from watching his shaft sink in and out of her with wet sounds erupting with each pump. How was this girl getting wetter? His throat grew tight and his moans were more drawn out until he sounded like a child whining for more candy. It made Yani squeeze her eyes shut and her pussy tightened around him more.

"Oh, fucking take it…take it…oh yeah…take this fucking dick…give it to me baby. Give me that pussy…fuck…you so good…open those fucking legs wider for me…just like that…I want you to cum on this dick. Cum on your dick, baby."

Yani's eyes were open and staring at his cock ramming into her. Three goddamn weeks away from her. He made her cry and think he was dead. He opened up a door that Zachary thought he could slip into.

Zachary.

Erik rested his eyes on Yani's face.

What if he had been gone longer? Would she have let Zachary back into her life? Moved on and he'd be left to mourn another failed love?

The look in Zachary's eyes let Erik know that he would be on the sidelines waiting for his chance to be with Yani. He was bold enough to tell Yani to call him in front of Erik's face.

The thought of that young pup being on top of Yani irked the shit out of him. He'd been that way once himself-wanting a girl who was with someone—and letting her know he was there when she got tired of the bullshit.

"This my pussy, right?"

He flexed his back muscles and shifted his weight to bear down on her. Her soft sighs made the hair on his neck raise.

"Tell me," he pleaded.

"It's yours…"

The arch in his back dipped more as he plunged to the root of his dick and held her hands down against her sides with his own. His thighs held her legs wide open. He was ready to cum. But he wanted her to climax first so he could witness her pleasure before his own.

"Erik…"

Fuck.

She said his name like it was a supplication, an entreaty to his soul. The lump in his throat made him bite his lip as he felt the small prick of tears form in his eyes. The weight of his dick tugged on her clit and he saw it pulling the hood down. She was so swollen around him. His woman.

A wave crashed on the beach and Erik watched a wide swathe of water snake its way closer to their blankets. The mid-day tide moved in fast around the cove.

He moved slow but pressed hard inside of her.

Lips touched and he slathered her mouth with slow wet kisses that punctuated the slow deep thrusts he gave her engorged folds. He vacillated between kissing and plunging balls deep into her until Yani's heated body catapulted him beyond what he could handle.

"Shit…oh shit…girl…"

The first hot spurts of his semen released and he gasped along with her as he felt her walls spasm along his brick-hard length. It felt like a tight rippling of several soft wet lips sucking him off in an even rhythm along his shaft.

"Yani!"

He clutched her hands tight and pushed his glans deeper so he could get against her cervix…wanting to drench her womb with all of his seed.

Have my child.

Yani's breasts heaved against his hot sweaty chest and a splash of seawater hit the back of her head. She lifted up by clinging to his shoulders, the drops of water trickling down from her scalp, and for a single moment of time, Erik thought she knew what he was trying to do. Her legs squeezed around his ass and her sweet shouts of his name made him release even more semen.

Panting and holding her against him, so deep down in her pussy, Erik watched the sea once more.

He thought of his father.

His mother.

Was this what it was like for them when they made him?

Did they just decide to create him even if they knew that things might not be the way they wanted it to be?

Did they even suspect the ending that befell them was a possibility?

Erik wiped the tears from his eyes before Yani saw them.

To want something and know you couldn't have it was killing him.

He rested easy inside of her body until he felt his penis become flaccid and he pulled out from her. Yani laid back onto the damp blanket, not caring about water rushing around her head.

His Black mermaid.

Sated.

Her pussy full of his hot essence.

Her thighs fell open and he could see how much he put in her. Thick pearly white cum sat in the entrance of her wet pink slit. When he thumbed her opening, she took her fingers and held it open for him to see.

"Fuck, girl."

Dipping two fingers into her, he felt how much he put in Yani. She was full of him. He bent over her and kissed every inch of her, stopping at her soft round belly, his lips hesitant to release her.

She played with her breasts for him until the water got to be too much. She jumped up and peed near a shrub, then moved over to Sydette's tent.

Erik slipped on his trunks and folded up the soaked blankets. Sydette fretted from being woken up.

"Hold her for me," Yani said.

He watched her pack up the tent and her bookbag, and he handed her the baby in exchange for the bag and blankets. He felt his dick thicken again as he watched her walk back up to the main house naked, big hips swaying, cheeks jiggling, tits bouncing…

Sydette fell back to sleep, her head rested on Yani's shoulder.

His throat grew tight again following them.

His beautiful woman. His precious little girl.

Mine.

###

Four times.

He fucked her four times that day.

His return and his encounter with Zachary changed Erik.

Yani felt it on the beach when he made love to her. The sex was way different. Like he had something to prove. As the tide rolled in for the afternoon, his release triggered an intense climax from her. Cumming together was always a special treat, but the way he growled her name in her ear after his loud shouts made her heart skip.

She read a new book while he surfed the net, and after they ate a late lunch and Yani fed the baby, they showered together and she dropped to her knees to suck him off before he had her up against the glass shower door taking her hard and fast from behind. She washed his hair with her cherry herbal shampoo and they sat out on the porch with him sitting between her legs as she palm rolled his locs.

Sydette came running out with her doll baby and sat down in front of him watching Yani separate new growth and conjoined locs.

Fingers dipping into the homemade loc butter she made, Yani was gentle with Erik's scalp.

"Hold this Sweat Pea," Yani said allowing her daughter to hold the container of loc butter.

Erik's hair was soft at the root and course at the tips. She gently pushed his head down and dipped a finger into the jar Sydette held. When she separated some new growth, she noticed a patch of hair that was lighter in color. A coppery reddish-brown. Almost auburn.

"Did you dye your hair before?"

"Nah."

"You have a patch of red hair."

"Birthmark. From my Mom. She had red hair. Black ginger."

Yani coated the hair with loc butter and let her soft palms roll over the strands until the new growth was twisted in neat against his scalp. The muscles in his back flexed as he held his head down for her. Sydette stuck her fingers in the hair cream and stood to wipe it on Erik's hair.

"Not too much," Yani said.

She took the jar from her daughter and placed it on the table near them and cornrowed the hair she had already tended to.

"Look at this girl," Yani said, still holding onto a loc.

She watched Erik lift his head up and look to his side.

Sydette had pulled aside her bikini top and was sucking on her nipple.

"Sweet Pea, let your Mama finish my hair first," he said.

Yani continued rolling the strands of Erik's hair as her daughter ignored her work and fed from her.

"What was your Mom like?"

Yani finished the last two locs on his scalp and Erik tilted his head back up. She lifted Sydette onto her lap and tucked her bikini top back over her breast.

Erik never said much about his family. Just that his parents were dead. He shared one picture of his mother with him when he was about three and that was it. He looked like her.

His eyes focused out on the water.

"She was…hmmm…my whole world. Had my Pops wrapped around her finger. Me too. She was powerful…loving. Funny. She used to make me and my father laugh so hard. She liked to cuss. She was a dancer in college. She taught me to fight and to dance. She was beautiful. Really beautiful. She had this big ass 'fro that looked like…fire. I wanted to be her so bad. We used to dance together a lot—"

"Oh yeah?"

"My father loved to watch my mother dance. I guess it was an aphrodisiac for him, but she always had music on in the house and once she got to rocking her hips…it was on. She was larger than life. Sharp tongue. Independent. You remind me of her sometimes."

His eyes glanced at her.

"I miss her. But that little patch of red in my hair, it's like she's with me, y'know? For always."

His eyes darted back to the sea.

She stroked the small patch of red in his hair and he took her fingers and kissed them.

"They would've loved this…my parents. This view is amazing."

He said no more about his mother. Or father. And Yani felt like she had pried open something too tender for him to talk about much further.

She rocked Sydette and watched the sea with him.

###

The two weeks after his return were the best times of Yani's life. They had a routine once more. She did whatever she wanted while he worked on whatever new project Klaue had him on. They spent time with her family, and even her parents came around to tolerating him.

Zachary still checked on her through social media and an occasional text message. She said nothing to Erik about it. He was happy. She was happy. Sydette blossomed with them both together.

All was well until her period didn't come on time.

Two days after her due date, Yani panicked.

Erik became so caught up in his work that he didn't really notice her falling apart.

She snuck away from the compound and bought a pregnancy kit, the most expensive kind on the market. She hid it in her purse and once she arrived at the compound, she stashed it in the middle house bathroom.

This couldn't be happening.

Again.

###

Chp. 18 Here

Tag List:

@fd-writes​ @soufcakmistress  @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon  @thadelightfulone

@allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78 @the-illllest @terrablaze514  @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling

@chaneajoyyy @sweetestdream92 @purple-apricots @blackpinup22 @hennessystevens-udaku

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @bugngiz @stariamrry  @honeytoffee @meilintheempressofdreams

@tyees @eye-raq @writerbee-ffs

[gem-quest]

[ QUEST 01. — I N F E R N A ]

taglist: @ayzrules​ @bebemoon​ @atimefordragons​ @armadasneon​ @now-on-elissastillstands​ @interluxetumbra​ @pulltheskydown​

Inferna was hanging out in her favorite spot in Yue City - the lousy excuse of a Chinese restaurant, because it was just so easy to market her Inferna Sauce and sriracha to players who came away disappointed by the Asian dishes with absolutely zero seasoning - when the announcement popped up in the sky.

[  . . . T O U R N E Y . A N D . F A I R . I N . W I L D F L O W E R . M E A D O W . . . L E V E L . O N E . . .  ]

"Well, shit, that's just right around the corner," Inferna said out loud, putting away her sauce for the time being. She wasn't sure if she was going to compete - she'd prooobably get distracted by the free food - but it might be fun to just watch for a little bit.

So, with one over-dramatic whoosh of her hooded black capelet (which was decorated with intricate gold embroidery, because Inferna didn't wear things that were plain, thank you very much), Inferna was off.

When she got to the meadowlands, the entire place was filled with stalls and throngs of players eager to watch the tournament. Inferna decided that she'd watch the tournament after some refreshments, and immediately headed for the food stalls. She stocked up on some chicken pot pies and mead, nibbling on an apple turnover as she browsed. Eventually, she came across a wyvern being turned over a spit, and tossed the NPCs roasting the thing a coin in exchange for a hunk of meat, which she drizzled her homemade hot sauce over before biting into.

It tasted just like chicken. Then again, most meats that weren't pork or beef also tasted like chicken, in Inferna’s opinion.

Rats, for example; Inferna had been dared to eat a rat skewer in the City of Magic, once. She did it, and got a whole blueberry pie in return. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. And that pie had been good.

Inferna wandered around for another thirty minutes, snacking on the wyvern kebab, before finally making her way over to the lists. She frowned when she noticed that there were almost no seats, instead hopping up onto the balustrade after shoving all the dumb meatheads out of the way.

There. That’s a perfect view, she thought, satisfied. She was taking in the sight of the Moonstone player with the pretties armor she’d ever seen facing off an Obsidian player in all black, just as she felt someone flick her calf.

“What the f-” Inferna’s muttered profanity was cut off when she noticed who it was.

"Hey, what’s up? You’re Neddy, right?" she asked, grinning widely. Inferna had met Neddy back in Level Ten, AKA Finvarra’s Gardens, and honestly, Inferna thought she was the sweetest thing. And her dragon, ugh - Inferna would never! Get! Over! Jack!!!!

The other girl looked up. "Inferna?" 

Inferna beamed down at her and offered her a hand up instead of answering. 

Neddy took her hand, and Inferna pulled her up onto the balustrade with her. “View’s better up here,” she told her with a wink, grinning her usual shit-eating grin.

Inferna was about to go back to watching the action - the Obsidian player had easily unseated the Moonstone one - when she noticed...was that Jack?!?! Riding in a basket on Neddy’s back?????

She gave an excited half-squeal, half-exclaimation. “God, Jack is so freaking adorable! Does he still like sugar cubes?" she fired off, pulling out a sugar cube she’d gotten from the Tearoom, as well as a tiny bottle of Inferna Sauce (she’d decided that she was going to make mini bottles to carry around outside of her inventory, just for convenience). She dunked the sauce onto the sugar cube.

"How are you faring out there?" asked Neddy.

“It’s been pretty chill on my end,” Inferna replied, giving the Moonstone player a cheeky grin. “Haven’t really done anything exciting, besides get some blueberry scones from the Tearoom yesterday; they’re amazing. I was at Level 39 the other day too, but fighting the dragon is so much work, so I fucked off after a few minutes.”

Her attention strayed back to Neddy’s dragon. “Ooh, fuck, Jack is so cute. Here, you’re a good boy, aren’t you?” she said, gently tossing the sugar cube in the air and clapping with delight when Jack caught it in his mouth.

“What about you? Got anything fun going on?” she asked Neddy a moment later, tearing her eyes away from the miniature dragon.

"Nothing quite as exciting as thirty-nine," Neddy replied. "I've just gotten through floor twenty-nine by the skin of my teeth. Mermaid Cove won't be easy for me since I'm currently, you know, on my own."  

Inferna nodded, grimacing. “Oh, yeah, that level’s a pain in the ass if you don’t have a party. I think I got through it by just finding a group that needed an extra person who didn’t care about Angel’s Breath. Aydina - that’s the NPC you go up against - is kind of a cunt, too. Like, I get that it’s just pre-written dialogue, but the lady could be nicer while trying to fuck us over with that dodgeball of hers, you know?”

Inferna rolled her eyes at the thought of the pirate queen. Really, though, she was a cunt, she mused to herself. Everything she said, just - ugh! So unnecessary. 

It was a known fact that Inferna talked so much shit about any and all of the NPCs in the game. She was a bit infamous for it within the Obsidian Guild, actually, which was something that Inferna was immensely proud of.

"I’m not very good at dodgeball," said Neddy.

Inferna shrugged. “It was my favorite thing in gym, when I still had to take that bullshit class. All I did was dick around and throw balls at the annoying people in my grade, even if they were technically on my team,” she said, in the most solemn voice she could muster. 

She continued. “I thought that level was pretty fun, besides Aydina’s totally unnecessary commentary. So I can help you, if you want,” she said, “if you bribe me somehow. Since I don’t see how helping you with dodgeball helps my Guild, after all.”

Neddy seemed surprised. "Bribe?" she managed to get out. "I don't have much in the way of coin. . . . I'm not formidable by any means. Surely, it won't hurt Obsidian any if you help little old me move through a lower floor."

Inferna narrowed her eyes, skeptical. “Little old you and a dragon,” she pointed out, gesturing towards Jack. As cute as Jack was, both miniature and at his full size, he was still a, you know, dragon.

Neddy nodded, slowly. "Yeah. Okay- well, I can give you all the apricot tartlets in my inventory if you help me out."

Inferna bit her lip. Apricot tartlets? That was...that was a tempting offer. Plus, dodgeball was really fun, and plus, Inferna sort of owed Neddy, because Neddy had saved Inferna from being eternally trapped in Level Ten with that insufferable faerie prince (but the sweets on that level all looked absolutely divine, so could you really blame her?).

“Alright fine, I’ll do it,” Inferna agreed, flipping her red hair over one shoulder. “Just tell me when, and I’ll be there. But don’t make it before noon, or I’ll probably sleep straight through it. Like, I’m not even kidding; last semester I somehow slept through ten alarms and missed a 12:30 PM lab. So don’t make it before twelve.”

She narrowed her eyes, again. “Now hand over those tartlets.”

After Neddy had given her the tartlets, Inferna lingered for a little while, then decided to go find some other food to eat, nibbling on one of the tartlets as she went. She bought a steak and mashed potatoes dish, stowing it away in her virtual inventory for the time being.

A commotion by the lists caught her attention, about an hour or so later. Intrigued, Inferna crept closer, just in time to see a fellow Obsidian player wearing a flowy dress win a duel. Inferna cheered with the rest of her Guild, elbowing closer for a better view.

Hey, she thought, suddenly. Isn’t that the girl I saw yesterday?

Inferna let her gaze follow the blonde girl as she collected her prize money and went off towards one of the open areas. She took off after her, finding that it was extraordinarily easy to follow the other player when she was wearing a pretty flower crown - all she had to do was look for the flowers in the crush of people.

Once Inferna reached the grassy field, she scanned the area before finally locating the girl she met at the Descend the day before.

“Oh, hey,” Inferna said, trotting over. A quick glance at her profile said that she went by ‘Morningstar’. “I saw your duel, by the way. Congrats on winning.” She grinned.

Morningstar gave her a scathing look. Inferna ignored it and flopped down to sit on the grass next to her, dragging out a bottle of Inferna Sauce from her inventory, as well as as the steak and mashed potatoes dish she’d just purchased. She all but drenched the food with her hot sauce, because everything in the game was so damn bland - to someone who’d grown up eating spicy food, anyway. 

“Do you want some, by the way?” Inferna asked, glancing up at Morningstar and grinning again. “It’s hot sauce. For when the white people food in this game gets too boring.”

She paused, for a moment. “I’ll trade you a bottle for a potion that makes me feel like I’ve just smoked some weed, if you have any. Or if you have anything like vodka? This mead and ale and stuff is fine, but jesus fucking christ, sometimes I just want to take two shots and be done.”

The two of them talked for a bit. Inferna mentioned that she’d be doing dodgeball with Neddy soon, and asked Morningstar if she’d want to join in. Then, once Inferna was hungry again, she got up and went searching for more food.

I should probably also get something if I’m going up against Aydina again, she thought. God, but she’s such a fucking cunt.

As such, Inferna found the marketplace and bought herself a few propugnatio potions, knowing that she’d need them to up her defense for the underwater dodgeball game; as a fire-mage, she was more vulnerable in aquatic environments. She also stocked up on fortissime potions, just to make sure her fiery attacks would pack an extra punch.

Satisfied with her haul, Inferna tossed the items into her inventory and went towards one of the stalls selling pastries. God, but they smelled good.

[writingamongtheroses-archive]

Showtime- Chapter 4

@andiwriteunderthemoon, @the-starlight-chills

The Strings

Liza ran through the halls of the restaurant. Her small body, too small to be hers, hurt with every step. She didn't want to be caught! Her hopes soared when she saw the door. She prepared to open it and escape into the cool night...

It slammed shut.

"No!"

She struggled with it furiously, staring at the tall figure outside. Even though their face was cast in shadow, she could see his smile. "Help me!" she screamed, blinking the blood that started to roll down her face out of her eyes. But he didn't move.

Paws grabbed her and yanked her back. Liza turned to see who it was.

The thing from the present was staring down at her. It held a controller in its hands, the strings connected to her. The controller disappeared, but the strings didn't. The thing floated closer...until something dropped over her head.

She let out a cry, trying vainly to pull it off. But her hands wouldn't move!

Xlnv orggov lmv...

"There. That's better."

-_-

Liza awoke with a gasp and the distinct feeling of being watched. Oh no, what time was it-

A hand sealed itself over her mouth, stalling her gasps for air. "Hush, Liza, you must be quiet." a voice said from above her. "We don't want to draw attention." It sounded like a young girl. But...she looked up.

The first thing she noticed was that there was a teenage girl, just sitting next to her. The second and third thing she noticed was that she wasn't sitting and she was translucent. The blonde girl was scanning the room. "I don't think they've moved yet..." She looked down and they met eyes. There was a long moment where they stared at each other before she opened her mouth. "Can you see me?"

Liza managed to nod without screaming. The girl- el fantasma- stared a moment longer before she let out a squeal. She managed to catch(?) the girl when she dove onto her, hugging Liza. "You can see me!"

The woman blinked. "Um...do I know you?"

"Nope, I died before you were born, but I've been with you for a while..." Well, that confirmed the ghost part.

"Ahem."

Liza glanced over. This time, she did scream at the sight of the present thing, just staring at her. She managed to catch her breath. "I- You're real."

"Yes, and so are you." The voice was soft and very matter-of-fact about it. It had a tinge of a Spanish accent to a voice that kinda sounded like the inside of a grandfather clock. Instead of the red chin and blue streaks, the face was painted to look more like a Calavera skull. Liza let out a yelp, jumping back. It gave a surprised jerk before leaning forward, raising a hand.

"Calm down." the ghost girl whispered in her ear. "Puppet just wants to help."

"Listen to your friend." The 'Puppet' gave her another look over. "And please, Night Guard, do refrain from shouting. You do not want to give yourself a migraine."

"I, what-" Liza sat back down, staring at the Puppet. The hard cement grounded her into reality. She wasn't dead, talking to some type of puppet in a present box, and there was a ghost girl that looked vaguely familiar. Okay. She took in a breath.

"On your tenth birthday, you suffered an accident that damaged your brain. Your brain managed to be stitched back together, but you suffer from migraines, headaches, and mood swings from the brain damage." It rattled off the info like it was reading from a book. "You take a cocktail of drugs to deal with the damage, but you are annoyed by it and try your best to ignore the damage. Foolish, but very interesting."

She stared. "I've lost my mind." Puppet and Ghost Girl exchanged looks as she managed a shaky laugh. "Yep. I've finally lost it." It gave her a rather cold look and moved to retreat into the box. "Wha- Hey!" To her surprise, it did pause. "You...you fixed my arm." Liza groaned, trying to remember everything. It would help make this entire thing less creepy. "Why?"

"You are the Night Guard."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"For now, it will do. I will aid you. Good night, Night Guard." Without another word, the Puppet disappeared into the box. The music box clicked to a stop- Liza wasn't even aware it had been playing. She stared at it.

"I think that's all you're gonna get." Ghost Girl whispered.

She nodded, checking her watch. 11:50.

It was time for her third shift.

-_-

"So...here's the office, I guess."

It had taken a bit of maneuvering to get the present box and the music box both. Liza set the present on the floor with a satisfied huff and no idea what to do next. Ghost Girl was poking around, looking at everything. "They've changed it since I was last here," she said finally, settling on a cabinet.

"And that was...?" Liza tried. After a moment of thought, she picked up the box and set it on what little space there was on the desk. She collapsed into her chair with a sigh, glancing at the box. It had been an instinct to grab the present and the music box. She still had questions for the Puppet.

"Oh, fifteen years ago."

"Huh. Alright." Liza stared at the present on the cramped desk. Who needed that many TVs? Tomorrow night, she could come in early and try to get some order out of the mess. "So, do you have a name?" She didn’t want to keep calling her Ghost Girl- it sounded rude.

"You can call me Doll."

Midnight came.

On cue, her phone rang. It was her actual phone, which made her startle. She pulled it out- 5 missing messages and one voicemail. She prayed that none were from her tio or, she shuddered at the thought, Lynn. Then she wouldn't have to worry about the animatronics.

Thankfully, none of it was from Rafael or Lynn. They were all from Mr. Calworth- why was he calling her? She played the voicemail. "Um...Miss Dorado, I just wanted to check in on you. The morning cleaning crew arrived this morning and said you were missing. Y-Your car was still parked outside. If you called for a ride, that's fine, but please inform us...give me a call when you can! Bye!" He sounded nothing like the confident man that had hired her.

"Oh my god," Liza said after a moment of silent gaping. "That cabrón thought I died!" This wasn't to check in on her, this was to cover the restaurant's ass! She immediately saved the message. By leaving the message, the restaurant was clearing any incrimination of them knowing what the hell was going on. It was like a setup. But more a 'just in case set-up' than anything else. This stroked the flames of annoyance in her- crap, had she taken her medicine?

Her thoughts immediately derailed from her expensive meds to stay alive when she checked the tablet and saw everyone had immediately left the stage. "Think they remember last night?" she asked Doll and the present. Neither answered. "That's what I thought," she said with a little nod.

It was hardly a minute later before Liza had to throw herself across the office to grab the remote and slam the east hall door on Rex. She let out a sigh of relief. "Too close." she sighed.

Of course, that was when the night decided to turn itself on its head.

"CLOSE! I'll show you close, stupid meat sack!" The voice was electronic and male and very annoyed. None of the character was taken away by its muffled tone. "Open up!" Liza gaped through the door window at Rex, the remote clattering out of her hand. "You're not playing fair!" he yelled.

"And you're not supposed to TALK!" She screeched, immediately backing up. Rex cocked his head in confusion at the answer, white and neon green fur moving with it, instead of the usual screaming. Liza backpedaled quickly, bumping into something. She nearly shot back into the office but was stopped by an lavender and orange hand. It was very large and very frightening. She bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from screaming and drawing everyone else in the office.

"Kitty!" Rex whined. "Open the door on my side!" He whined until Kitty-Cat could grab the remote and open the door. It took some maneuvering but she managed, yanking Liza out of the seat and into her arms.

"Better, Rex?" she said sweetly.

"Much better!" He swaggered into the office, grinning at the squirming and screechy Liza.

Until she kicked out during her squirming, hitting him right in the chin. Rex let out a rather dog-like yelp, stumbling back and holding his chin as if he was in pain. Liza had a brief moment of satisfaction until the world turned upside down and her glasses fell off, Kitty now holding her by an ankle. "Are you okay?!" the cat asked, ignoring the human's pleas to be put down.

"Oh, you are so gonna get it-"

"Bajame-!"

"Ye didn't check Treasure Cove, landlubber, now you must-"

"Dios mío," Liza said into her hands. "Es una fiesta."

Captain Bun screeched to a stop at the sight of the group. "Aw, ye got her already!" Her ears flattened against her head. "Shame. I wanted the honors meself." She cocked her head when she noticed Rex still rubbing his jaw. "What's with ye?"

"She kicked me." he groaned, sounding very much like a grumpy teenager.

"She did, so Rex deserves the honors!" Kitty said. "Anyway, it's finders stuffers."

"Finders keepers," Liza said in English, deciding to save her energy as she dangled. "It's finders keepers."

"It's the same thing," Kitty said with a too-human shrug. Rex sniggered.

"Dios mío," Liza repeated, burying her face back in her hands. Sure, it was childish, but she deserved it, maldita sea. Heck, she would probably blow a raspberry at these cabróns before being stuffed. Because of her state of bemoaning her fate, she didn't notice Bun notice the present box.

"...Hold yer fire there, Kitpup."

"Why?!"

"What's wrong, Bun?"

Liza looked up from her hands when she felt Kitty's grip loosen. The pirate was pointing to the present box. Despite the eyes staring at it, it looked nothing more than a gift. It looked like taking it with her was a good idea.

"What? Wait, she found it?!" Kitty's voice was a tad bit higher as she dropped Liza. She let out a grunt when her head hit the floor. She grabbed her fallen glasses, shoving them on as she scrambled into her chair. She couldn't get past them to escape, so she settled for gripping the back of the chair and keeping it between her and these characters.

"It's probably a mistake like last time!" Rex said, reaching for Liza. "We'll just deal with her now and save Puppet the trouble-" He froze when the music box started to play. It was still twinkling, but the notes were sharp and warning. The dog drew back, properly chastised.

"Well..." Bun said, examining Liza with her eyes. "Ted isn't going to like this."

[waterchestnut123]

CHAPTER 3 / The Peculiar Perils of Straw Hat Parties

Common commentary throughout the 5 seas held that Straw Hat parties were notoriously wild. This is something that Trafalgar Law, as well as the rest of his crew, are learning first hand. Not that Law particularly feels like partying; after Dressrosa, the Heart Pirates Captain has a little soul-searching he’d like to attend to. But one tends to become… drawn in, to certain things around Luffy—regardless of one’s plans or intentions. This is how Law finds himself developing an unlikely and unexpected friendship with his ally’s navigator—and how that friendship, much like Luffy’s parties, grows far beyond his intentions.

More About This Fic / Read on AO3 Chapter Index | < Prev · Next >

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Chapter 3: The Consequences of Poor Party Planning

Chapter Rating: T Warnings: References to gore, traumatic experiences, mild language.

“Hard to Port! HARD TO PORT!”

Nami clung to the bannister of the top deck as though her life depended on it (and realistically, it probably did) as she shouted instructions to Franky at the helm. Remaining upright was a struggle, the vicious rocking of the ship threatening to dissolve what tenuous equilibrium she had established in her inebriated state. Violent gusts whipped her hair in every direction, cold rain pelted her face, and as a massive wave came crashing down—just shy of where the ship had been moments ago—she debated just how hard she was going to pummel Luffy when all this was over.

The storm had hit fast and hard, but she’d been able to give enough forewarning to the two crews that they were, so far, successfully staying just ahead of the worst of it. How long that would continue to be the case, however, she wasn’t sure. They were in no shape to navigate the Sunny: Usopp was completely passed out after his game of sake-scotch—tucked away in the men’s quarters by Zoro before they set off; the usually unflappable Zoro was unsteady on his feet as the ship rolled violently with the tide—a sure sign of his extreme level of intoxication; Luffy was struggling to keep his meat down, and Brook couldn’t stop laughing at Zoro’s frequent stumbling and subsequent cursing. What little headway they had made was entirely attributable to her early detection. The storm was gaining—and their ability to outrun it was rapidly deteriorating.

“Franky—we need a coup de burst! We can’t keep this up!”

“The cola engine is empty—it needs a new barrel! You’ll have to do it, though, I’ve gotta stay on the wheel!” Franky shouted back, holding tight to the spokes as they pulled violently starboard.

Nami worried her lip. Traversing the ship in her current state and in the present conditions—with every wooden surface slick with rainwater, was firmly in the “bad idea” category; but she didn’t have much choice. She eyed Franky’s wrestling match with the wheel and took a deep breath to steady herself.

“Alright—be ready! We need to head directly east by southeast to outrun the storm!”

“You got it, sis!” He then turned his attention out to the deck. “Oi! Everyone! Raise the sails!”

Wiping sopping hair out of her eyes, she gripped the railing tightly, taking careful steps towards the deck stairs. It felt like an ageless journey to get to the rear of the ship—her progress slowed by the ship’s turbulent thrashing. She was forced onto all fours as she crossed the lawn deck due to a sudden bout of nausea; though she rather hoped at the least that lowering her profile would reduce the likelihood of being blown off the ship by a violent gust. After covering in almost five minutes a distance that should have taken less than thirty seconds to cross, she found her way aft. Sliding down the ladder into the bowels of the ship, she planted her feet carefully on the floor of the cola room, wiping water from her face and taking quick stock of her surroundings.

The cola engine was currently filled with empty barrels as Franky had said, and she quickly set about removing them. She struggled to place the full, fresh barrels in their place—heavy in their own right, made worse by the unsteady ship—but eventually managed to work all three into place with a final, frustrated kick. She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard Franky shouting instructions topside, then the whir of the engine coming to life.

She turned to make for the ladder again, grateful that it would soon all be over—however that was where she made her mistake. Grabbing hold of the rungs, she didn’t get more than four feet up before she heard a particularly strong wave violently crash against the side of the ship, and felt a sudden, sharp lurch. With her weary grip and wet shoes, she lost her footing and tumbled down the ladder, landing harshly on her ankle and feeling a resounding crack followed by a sharp, shooting pain in her ankle.

“AGHHH!”

Her vision went briefly white as she hurriedly pulled the injured leg out from beneath her, cradling it delicately between her palms. Eyes tightly shut and leaking tears, she grit her teeth against the searing ache, feeling her stomach turn in response to the pain. She had barely repositioned herself comfortably at the base of the ladder when she felt the force of the coup de burst push her against the rungs, briefly stealing her breath. The laughter of her crew above followed quickly after, echoing down the chute and signaling their escape from the storm’s clutches. She had that to be thankful for at least.

After a minute, as the ship began to slow, she let out a slow, shaky breath and turned her head up, eyes still leaking pained tears. Now she just needed one of those idiots to carry her to the infirmary.

“Oi! Luffy!” she shouted up the chute, voice pitchy with pain. “Get your rubber ass down here and give me a hand!”

—:—:—:—:—:—:—

“What did you do?”

Law stared down at the swollen mass that was now her ankle with an amused, if dumbfounded, expression, Chopper’s ice pack resting beside her calf atop the infirmary bed. They had managed to find an island nearby with a protected cove at which to make repairs; and it was good, too, as the ship had gotten quite a good trouncing in the storm. Or perhaps it had been their abysmal reaction time. Either way, they had a ship to fix.

And a navigator too, apparently.

Nami grit her teeth as Law gently turned her ankle to examine it, still a bit tender as the local anesthetic had yet to take full effect. A broken tibia was Chopper’s diagnosis—and quite bad, too. No sooner had they had docked than Chopper hailed down Law in his sub who, according to the tiny doctor, was far better equipped to mend such a break with his ope ope no mi than he was with only his hands. Er, hooves.

“I slipped and fell down the ladder in the energy room,” she ground out, attempting not to flinch at the gentle pressure of his fingers.

Law released her ankle, turning to her with a raised brow. “You know you really should have been more careful going up a wet ladder while drunk,” he commented mildly.

She glared at him, eyes narrowed and expression distinctly unamused. “Shut it, Doctor spots. Can you fix it or not?”

He repressed a bemused smirk as he stood, crossing his arms as he eyed her ankle thoughtfully, then turned to Chopper.

“Bring her to my operating room on the sub—I can reset the bone and mend the damage to the surrounding tissue, but it will require surgery. It shouldn’t take too long, but even if I speed up the healing process, the recovery will still be almost a week—and she’ll need to be careful for another month after that. We can go over follow-up care once I’m done.”

“Oh, good!” Chopper breathed a sigh of relief, tense shoulders relaxing. “Thank you so much!”

But Nami’s ears were still ringing with the word ‘surgery’. A wave of anxiety washed over her, momentary visions of an old memory—of bloody scalpels and chunks of flesh littering a concrete floor flashed through her mind; but just as quickly as they came she shut them out, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth until the images ceased their assault. As she opened them she forced the anxiety down, allowing the much more manageable emotion of anger to take its place. Grinding her teeth, she turned towards the open door, shouting with renewed irritation for the closest thing she had to a punching bag.

“Where is that rubber idiot?! I am going to give him such a beating!!”

—:—:—:—:—:—:—

Chopper, in heavy point, carried Nami onto Law’s sub, down an elevator and into the operating theater where he placed her gently onto the operating table. Once she was situated, Chopper wished her a speedy recovery and departed to tend to the rest of the crew’s numerous scrapes and bruises.

Law busied himself preparing additional anesthesia for injection, as well as pulling out the needed equipment. Nami eyed him warily as he worked, placing scalpels, cotton pads, and other supplies upon a metal tray.

Finally ready to begin he turned, activating his room to encompass the bed—only to notice his patient gripping the sheets beneath her in a white knuckled grip, her eyes periodically darting anxiously towards his tray despite the otherwise cool expression of her features. He paused before reaching for his scalpel, eying her thoughtfully. After the roughness of Punk Hazard and Dressrosa, he wouldn’t have thought she’d suffer from something like medical anxiety.

“The surgery shouldn’t take more than an hour,” he said carefully as he pulled the tray towards him, situating himself near the foot of the operating table. “You can stay conscious while I operate, or I can sedate you, if you’d prefer. You won’t feel anything either way.”

“Sedation,” she said without hesitation.

He nodded, reaching for a mask draped atop a metal canister beside the bed. As he approached, he noticed that her posture had not relaxed, and she eyed the mask apprehensively. Drawing upon his patience, he gently pushed her down flat onto the bed.

“It’ll  be over before you know it.”

She closed her eyes, fingers clenching and un-clenching as she took a calming breath, and Law seized the opportunity. Quickly raising his arm, he gently pressed the mask against her face and activated the flow of gas. Her eyes flew open and she attempted to sit up again; but his hand on her shoulder was steady, and though he was briefly subjected to her signature glare, her gaze quickly became unfocused and her eyelids fluttered shut.

Finally, he could begin.

The surgery went smoothly. Her fracture was, as he anticipated, quite bad, and the surrounding tissue severely irritated. Thankfully, though, it had suffered little actual damage. Copious evidence of a previous fracture in the same location suggested that to be the reason for the severity of the break; the bone structure was already quite weak.

In total it took no more than an hour, and by the time the sedative was due to wear off, he had finished the surgery and already started a healing acceleration treatment.

The sound of her groggy voice alerted him to her wakefulness, words faintly slurred.

“Mmmm… ’s nice,” she mumbled.

He lifted his head, glowing palm unmoving from its location atop her ankle. He’d been told by his patients before that the treatment felt vaguely like warm water gently flowing through the affected area—it seemed Nami agreed. Slowly, her eyelids struggled open and amber eyes turned to gaze blearily at him. He could tell from the slightly vacant look on her face that, though wakeful, the sedative was keeping her higher faculties from emerging.

She blinked slowly, repeatedly, gazing at him with her head cocked against the pillow in confusion, “Wha… Hi—hi Torao. Hi. Whas… whas’re you doin’?” she glanced from his face to where his hand rested atop her ankle, then back to his face, expression full of childlike curiosity.

“Healing your ankle,” he answered noncommittally.

She blinked at him, then shifted slightly on the operating table before her eyes widened and she attempted to sit up on her elbows

“Where did you put my foot?” She asked urgently.

Law repressed a snort. While the sedative had worn off enough for her to wake, the local anesthetic may not have, and it was likely sensation from the mid-calf down was, at the least, muted.

“Your foot is securely attached to your leg, Nami-ya. As you can see.” He gestured with his free hand towards the ankle he was working on. She followed his hand with her eyes, but didn’t look convinced.

“But I can’t feel it. You must have taken it off.”

“You can’t feel it because I numbed your ankle for the surgery. Your foot is still attached,” he reasserted firmly, if with a hint of annoyance.

She narrowed her eyes as she examined his face closely. “And what’d I need surgery for, hm? HM?”

He glanced up, feeling his eyebrow twitch with growing irritation as he answered, “Because you broke your ankle.”

At his words her eyes widened, and she nodded with sudden clarity. “Oh—OH! I broke my ankle!” Then, more softly, “I broke my ankle…”

He rolled his eyes, adjusting his hand with a quiet sigh. He never was a fan of dealing with sedative-induced delirium. He had hoped he might be done before she woke expressly so that he could avoid this, but luck was not on his side.

For several minutes she seemed content to watch him work, lying back against her pillow silently as she stared down at him. Then, suddenly, she grinned, sitting up on her elbows again as her gaze rose to his face with childlike enthusiasm.

“Hey—hey Torao… ask me if I’m orange.”

Law’s eyes rose to meet hers, and he felt that twitch in his brow return.

“No.”

She immediately frowned, looking thoroughly put out. “Oh, come on! Ask me! Pleeeeease?”

He sighed, drawing on his patience. He was almost done, he reminded himself—almost done.

“Are you orange, Nami-ya?”

She continued to smile at him, biting her lower lip to withhold her glee, before finally blurting out, “No!” and dissolving into giggles.

He stared at her flatly as her chest heaved with her laughter, feeling a distinct desire to put her under again. Thankfully it seemed her poor attempt at humor had, for the moment, satisfied her; for as her laughter died down she simply settled more comfortably on her elbows, eyes curiously watching his glowing hand slowly, carefully tracking over her ankle.

He was rewarded with another few moments of peace, before she broke the silence again.

“What’re you doing?”

He momentarily shut his eyes before forcing out an answer. “I’m healing your ankle. Like I told you.”

She frowned slightly, clarifying her question. “No, I mean… aspif—epsific—specifically.”

“I’m accelerating your body’s natural healing process by increasing blood flow and feeding your cells mitochondrial energy.”

He had hoped the specificity of his answer would disinterest her from further query; but no. Of course not. Instead, she raised her thoughtful gaze up to his face, blinking rapidly as she inquired further.

“How d’you do that?”

“By feeding you some of my life force,” he answered noncommittally, readjusting himself on his stool.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, expression becoming sharp despite the bleariness still coloring her expression. “Is… that doesn’ seem like it would be very good for you.”

He shrugged. “By the time I’m done with your treatments, it will probably have taken a few days off my lifespan.”

With unexpected speed and strength she pulled herself upright and yanked his hand off her ankle, expression horrified.

“No!!”

He eyed her with a furrowed brow, crossing his arms over his chest in distinct irritation. “No?” he echoed incredulously, “You were the one who complained about the recovery time.”

She shifted in the bed, moving her arms to support her weight on her hands as she started to sway. The sudden move had clearly been an effort. “I was… I was just mad ‘cuz I didn’t want to have surgery! Don’t waste your life like that! You can’t!”

Once more Law rolled his eyes, moving his hand back to her ankle and re-activating the acceleration. “It’s just a few days, Nami-ya. I lost years on Doflamingo.”

Again she surprised him with her strength as she leaned forward in an attempt to shove his hand away—but this time he wouldn’t be deterred. He grabbed her with his free hand by the wrist to hold her at bay; but she just reached for him with her other hand to pull him off her ankle—and before he could understand how exactly it had happened, they were engaged in slap fight, with Nami managing to muster a shocking amount of speed and strength.

But that strength didn’t last long. Her precision and speed quickly faded and she began to sway in her upright position. Taking advantage, he grabbed both of her wrists, holding them away and her upright, exasperated and irritated in equal measure.

“Nami-ya!” he commanded sharply, “Would you stop.”

“No!” she asserted stubbornly, weakly struggling against his grip. “You just got your life back, and at a huge cost—I won’t let you be so quick to waste it—especially on me!”

That was… not an answer he was expecting. His surprise caused his grip to slacken and she used the opportunity to slip free of him, settling her arms across her chest with a frown. His eyes moved to meet with hers, and though her gaze was still a bit hazy, they were nonetheless resolute. His brow furrowed and he frowned, thinking. He had not anticipated she would be upset about this, nor that she would seem to carry such… strong opinions, as to how he spent his life force.

“This is the nature of the Ope Ope no Mi, Nami-ya,” he said carefully, “Certain abilities feed on the user—that’s just how it works.”

He allowed a moment for his words to sink in before placing his hand back on her ankle, re-activating the acceleration; and when she weakly reached to try and remove it again he grabbed her wrist with his free hand, eying her sharply.

“It’s a worthwhile use of my abilities, and a relatively small sacrifice I’m willing to make,” he said with finality, the glow under his palm igniting again. “If there is anyone between our two crews we need able-bodied, the navigators are at the top of that list. Stop fighting me or I’ll put you under again.”

She frowned at him, and as he released her wrist she thankfully settled back against the pillow instead of making for his hand again. She let out a frustrated breath, closing her eyes. Her posture seemed weary—the energy expended fighting him off had clearly taken it out of her. She remained still and silent for some time, and Law used that opportunity to examine his progress. The swelling had gone down significantly, and he could now feel the bone beneath her skin, smoother now at the break site as the bone began to knit neatly back together.

“Luffy said you made a room so large on Dressrosa he couldn’t even see it,” she said quietly, breaking the stillness. “Is that what cost years of your life?”

He raised his head, seeing her sitting up on her arms again as she eyed him.

“Mugiwara-ya didn’t regale you with the details?” he commented lightly before returning to his examination. She frowned.

“He’s not a complete idiot, you know. He does know when something’s personal and to keep his mouth shut. When I asked, he only told me the basics, and said I should ask you if I wanted to know the rest.”

Law turned to study her annoyed expression, surprised by her words—and Luffy’s. He had assumed that the whole of the battle would become common knowledge to Straw Hat’s crew, as much as he wouldn’t prefer it.

Luffy’s… unexpected tact—a concept he would never have ever thought could be associated with the lunatic captain, was… appreciated.

He turned his gaze back to her ankle, sliding his hand beneath it to examine the tendons. Given that he doubted she would remember much, if any of this conversation later, he decided to humor her.

“Yes,” he answered simply.

She stared at him wide-eyed, expression dumbfounded.

“Why?”

“…Why?”

“Yeah—why would you just… waste years of your life like that?”

“To maintain situational advantage,” he answered absently, carefully feeling along the achilles tendon. “And the years weren’t wasted—they ended up saving my life.”

She stared up at him with something suspiciously like concern, voice quiet. “What happened?”

He paused, eying her a moment, contemplating. It wasn’t something he particularly liked to dwell on, but…

“I was shot by Doflamingo. Twenty-two times, I believe. By keeping up my room too large to be seen, I was able to remove the bullets and heal myself while Doflamingo was busy with Luffy, thinking I was dead.”

She sat up fully, her eyes widening in alarm and a hand moving to cover her mouth. Silence, and the occasional metal creak of the Polar Tang as it shifted in the waves were the only sounds to fill the space between them. She said nothing for several moments, and he was content to leave it at that—but then she quietly spoke, voice soft and words unexpected.

“But… you were still shot, right? The Ope Ope no Mi can’t stop you from… feeling all those bullets—right?”

He held her gaze briefly before offering a small but clear nod.

Her eyes widened a moment before she let out a breath, turning towards the wall, eyes far away.

“I thought you seemed different when you came back to the Sunny with the others,” she said softly. “Luffy told me that you used to be a member of Doflamingo’s crew until he killed someone you cared about; that you had allied with us only because you wanted help getting revenge, and were willing to do anything to get it.” She lifted her head and her eyes met his—her gaze uncomfortably knowing.

“I get it—I do. An old captain you hated, who took someone you loved away from you…” She closed her eyes, one hand raising to unconsciously rub her tattooed shoulder. “I would understand more than anyone else. I’ve wanted to ask for a while, but… I wasn’t sure you’d want to talk about it.”

She opened her eyes and gazed at him with a small, sad smile.

“And why would you understand?” he asked coolly, though with the unexpected turn in conversation he felt suddenly anything but.

She turned her gaze down at the thin cotton blanket lying across her lap, thumb gently stroking her tattoo—though, in looking more closely, he could see her thumb was actually circling a scar hidden beneath the ink.

“When I was ten, the Arlong pirates invaded my village, taking over my island and demanding everyone pay tribute or be killed. We were poor, and my mother had only enough saved to pay for my sister and I. So… Arlong shot her, right in front of us. And when he found out I could make maps, he kidnapped me and forced me into his crew.”

Her voice had grown small, and Law could tell, recalling these events was difficult for her. He felt uncomfortably voyeuristic; as though he were becoming privy to something too intimate, too… familiar—things not meant for the ears of a rival. He was about to tell her she needn’t continue—he felt fairly confident she wouldn’t have were she not under the influence of a drug; but what she said next halted his words on the tip of his tongue, and curiosity overtook his better judgment.

“I hated him so much,” she said with a venom unbefitting the quiet atmosphere. “I spent eight years as one of his executives—robbing pirates to try and buy back mine and my village’s freedom. That was the deal I made with him. The villagers didn’t know why I joined, and they hated me for it—or at least, thats what they wanted me to think.” Her anger dissipated slightly, and she let out a sigh.

“When I had finally gotten almost all of the money, he sent his marine lackeys after me to confiscate it all. He never had any intention of honoring our agreement—never intended to let me go; just wanted to give me false hope.”

She closed her eyes and took a breath, then turned to him, a self-deprecating smile on her lips.

“I found out later that the villagers knew all along—they’d just been playing a role so that if I ever wanted to run away, I wouldn’t feel guilty for abandoning them and leaving them all to die. When they found out about Arlong’s duplicity, they finally decided to go after him. I gave up and went with them; I thought I had no other way out. I was going to kill him, or die trying.”

She stared at him pointedly, then—eyes both fierce and gentle. Her gaze felt strangely piercing for a woman only on the cusp of cogency; and yet he found himself unable to maintain her gaze. He turned his eyes back down to her ankle.

“What happened?” He asked quietly as he shifted his fingers over her ankle bone. She smiled fondly.

“Luffy.”

Ah. Figures.

Silence pervaded once more, and after a moment she settled back down onto the bed, closing her eyes with a quiet exhale.

He allowed himself a moment for his mind to drift back through her story. She was the one Straw Hat he’d gotten to know the least. Their interactions on Punk Hazard had been rushed and frenzied—as most of the endeavor had been, and they’d been separated throughout the events of Dressrosa. Yet it seemed they had more in common than he ever would have guessed.

“I think I would have missed you, y’know,” she said suddenly, unexpectedly, pulling his mind from his thoughts. He lifted his head to find her smiling softly, eyes still closed.

“If you’d died on Dressrosa,” she clarified. “You’re a good guy and a good captain. You’ve grown on me,” she added, her smile broadening just a bit.

Law’s brow furrowed as he gazed at her sincere smile, unsure how to take, let alone react, to the sentiment. He decided instead to deflect.

“Me, or my bear?” he inquired coolly, thinking back to the night before. Nami laughed.

“Okay,” she said with a yawn, “You and the bear.”

Silence stretched between them once more, and Nami hummed contentedly as he moved his hand back to the top of her ankle. He forced his attention away from her face and back to his work, fingers trailing over the the site of the break one last time.

“Thas’ nice…” she murmured, settling deeper into her pillow, “I take it back… you can spend your life force doing that any time.”

Law felt a small smile pull up the corners of his lips, but he didn’t respond, focusing instead on finishing his examination. It seemed just about where he wanted it to be for now—mended enough to get her through until tomorrow. With a flick of his wrist he stopped the acceleration, looking back up ready to pronounce her treatment finished for the day—but instead he found that she had fallen back asleep.

With a breath, he slumped back on his stool with a weary sigh. The acceleration always left him feeling drained, but her argumentativeness—and the unexpected conversation, had taken more of a toll on him than he’d anticipated.

Had he not spend so many years as a pirate, he might find it difficult to imagine she had ever struggled against such hardships. She certainly didn’t carry herself that way; she was clever and headstrong, at time ferocious and at others, playful. Though he hadn’t seen much of it for himself, he knew from the other members of her crew that she could be… tempestuous and domineering; though they remarked upon it with the utmost fondness.

She was flirtatious and often smiling; yet if her words were to be believed, she had suffered—isolated and alone, most of her life. But still she found a way to be cheerful, and to demonstrate seemingly genuine care about his own hardships, even though there was little reason to. He was a captain of a rival crew, in a temporary alliance with her own—beyond his abilities to fulfill their agreement to take down Kaido, there was nothing to be gained from deeply and truly caring. He was torn between thinking her abundantly kind or outright foolish.

But, then again, when had anyone on Mugiwara’s crew ever made much sense?

And though he was loath to admit it, she had struck a cord. Under the lingering influence of the sedative, she was just so damned sincere in her concern. He couldn’t even remember the last time a relative stranger gave two shits about the things he’d been through—maybe the nuns at the church in Flevance. He’d certainly never met anyone with a story like his before, either.

And though he was even more loath to admit it, he was also left feeling guilty. He shouldn’t have let her carry on the way she had. Even if he couldn’t have stopped her, he should have at least tried; but, perhaps selfishly, he’d found himself wanting to know what made her tick. He knew she wasn’t in her right mind, and if she remembered any of their conversation when she woke up, he suspected she would be cross at best, furious at worst.

Though, he couldn’t help the small smile which curved up his lips as he thought back to her final comment. He’d grown on her, huh?

A quiet, yet firm knock came at the door and he wearily stood from his stool. With a click he turned off the brighter overhead lights and opened the door, finding Penguin on the other side.

“Lunch is ready, captain,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder. “Do you want me to bring something for you and Miss Nami?”

Law glanced over his shoulder at her still and slumbering form. Turning back to Penguin, he shook his head. “No. I’m just about done here, and Nami-ya is asleep. I’ll meet you in the mess hall in a bit.”

“You got it, Captain,” Penguin smiled before turning and heading back down the hall.

Law shut the door quietly, turning back towards the operating table. He’d just have to deal with the consequences of their conversation later, when she woke up again. Hopefully she wouldn’t remember, and he’d have nothing to deal with at all.

He began cleaning up his tools and equipment, pausing briefly as Nami shifted in her sleep. He chanced a glance at her; the arm that had risen to her tattoo now rested loosely atop her waist, her head fallen slightly to the side. Orange curls framed her face like a strange halo, and her dark lashes lay peacefully closed.

His mind cast back to the night before—to Luffy’s party out in the middle of the ocean, and his and Nami’s conversation on the aquarium bar balcony. One moment in particular stood out to him—when she’d taken his hat. He could easily have taken it back using his ability just as he’d done with his wallet; but for some reason, he let himself get drawn into her game, just as he’d let himself get drawn into conversation with her not ten minutes ago. And when he had her cornered against the far wall, blinking up at him from beneath those lashes, he’d felt… drawn to her; caught in the orbit of her gravity and unable to pull out.

He could chalk it up to the alcohol. She was a beautiful woman, after all, and had been looking up at him with those impish eyes, face cast in the silvery light of the half moon. He was only human.

She hummed quietly in her sleep, and the sound jarred Law from his reverie. He forced his attention back to the task at hand, picking up the remains on his operating tray before sliding it back into its proper place. He needed to stay focused. Now that he had been reunited with his crew, taking down Kaido was next and that would be no easy task, requiring every ounce of his attention and focus especially with Luffy in the picture—and she was beginning to take up too much room in his head.

As he headed for the door, he quickly checked her IV and tossed the remaining refuse into the medical waste bin on the wall. Reaching for the handle, though, he paused, glancing over his shoulder at her. She still lay quietly on the bed, her chest rising slowly but steadily with her breathing.

Yes, she was taking up far too much room in his head.

He pulled the door open and stepped out into the hall, shutting it softly behind him—and with it, all wayward thoughts of the navigator asleep within.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

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[michael-langdon-appreciation]

Hey!!! So I’ve been offline all day so idk if Jim day is still going on but uuhhh could you do 27 from the smut prompt?

Here you go my love! I hope you enjoy. 💕

Jim is sexy and he knows it. Contains some good fingering along with some semi-public sex and other juicy things. 

Dom!Jim, mostly. 

I don’t know Jim Mason, not really.

        We go to school together but we have no classes together and we’ve never spoken. He’s with the Bay Boys, Jim wastes his life on pot, booze and bad decisions. But he’s hot as hell and Jim’s been watching me ever since we first caught each other’s eyes tonight.  

House music pumps loudly from the speakers as I look round at the party. It’s already a mess, balloons have been placed around haphazardly and there’s a group of guys inhaling helium over by the bathroom.

Heather pushes a red cup into my hand, she’s hosting the party tonight and has been flitting around from guest to guest throughout the night. I wouldn’t have an issue with her hardly spending any time with me, expect that I only really know Heather here. I live on the other side of PV, so I’m only ever in the area when I’m at school. I don’t surf like everyone else in Palos Verdes and I don’t really have much of an interest in the sea either.

        ‘You need to stop standing in the corner like a Debbie Downer.’ Heather chides, tipping up my cup so I’ll drink again.

        I take a drink of vodka and coke, ‘Kinda hard when you don’t know anyone.’ I say, my eyes flitting back to Jim. It’s as if he can feel my gaze every time I look in his direction, Jim meets my gaze again and raises his own cup in my direction, toasting me before turning back to his friends.

        Heather catches my line of sight, ‘You like Jim.’ She guesses, her face lighting up.

        She grabs my hand, ready to introduce me and I have to tug her back, ‘No you don’t. No playing matchmaker.’

        ‘You poor, naive child.’ Heather smirks, not giving in. ‘I know something you don’t.’ She’s starting to make a scene and I reason that it’s best to just go with Heather than have all these eyes on me, especially when the Bay Boys also start watching.

Heather smiles brightly, pulling me in front of her. ‘Boys, this is Y/N. She goes to school with us but she lives across town at Crystal Cove.’

        Alex exchanges a look with Chad, ‘Well I for one have definitely seen you around.’ He holds his hand out for me and I catch sight of the blunt trapped between his fingers. Alex removes his hand, fumbling with the blunt and drops it on the floor, ‘Ah shit.’ He curses, fishing round to get it.

        ‘Idiot,’ Chad shakes his head at his stepbrother and shoots me a wink, ‘I’m Chad.’

        My eyes fall back onto Jim. He teases me, his eyes taking in my little red dress. A little smile curves across his lips and his tongue darts out to wet them before he speak, ‘Jim.’

        It’s simple and has me drawing a complete blank, ‘Uh.’

        ‘I thought you boys would look after Y/N here for me while I check upstairs.’ Heather informs them, ‘Just no drugs, Chad. I mean it.’

        Chad smirks, ‘I don’t force them on anyone, Heather.’

        “Bullshit.’ Alex coughs behind his hand. Chad knocks the freshly retrieved blunt out Alex’s hand, ‘Awww man.’

Jim watches his friends with mild amusement, but he keeps one eye on me at all times.

        ‘We’ll look after her.’ He promises Heather. She smiles warmly at Jim before disappearing into the crowds.

        It dawns on me that I’m sitting with three of the rowdiest, rudest boys around PV and they are all eying me up like a piece of meat. Alex drags over a stool, ‘Come sit, we won’t bite.’

        I pull my dress down over my thighs, regretting my choice to wear something so short. Chad’s eyes rove shamelessly over my flesh, Alex’s hand rests on the back of my stool.

        This isn’t good.

        ‘So what do you do for fun, Y/N?’ Chad asks, ‘You surf?’

        ‘No,’ I admit. ‘I don’t like swimming that much.’

        That surprises all three boys, ‘How can you survive in PV not knowing how to swim?’ Jim asks, but there’s genuine curiosity in his voice. ‘When I was little I got stung by a jellyfish,’ I reveal. ‘I haven’t been in the sea since.’

        ‘Damn,’ Alex mutters. ‘That’s rough. Survivor though, I like that.’

        Alex’s hand has started to inch closer to my thigh. I look to Jim before I can help myself and his eyes narrow at once. He pushes off from his seat, ‘Wanna grab another drink, Y/N?’ He asks and I’m grateful he got my cry for help.

        ‘Sounds good,’ I’m up before the other boys can protest. Jim takes my hand, leading me through the crowd of people and into the kitchen. The music is fainter in here, you can actually have a decent conversation without having to shout, ‘Thank you,’ I say when we reach the counter. My red cup is still full, as is Jim’s.

        ‘No worries.’ He offers me an easy smile, ‘Can’t have you feeling uncomfortable, and those two give us a bad enough rep as it is.’

        Jim socialises so easily, he empties my red cup for me and fills it with Sprite, greeting the partygoers he knows and smiling at some of the girls who flash him flirtatious glances. I wrestle down my jealousy, I want this boy to have his focus on me. I reach over the countertop, Jim’s eyes following me.

I pick up Jim’s cup and take a sip, ‘I wouldn’t.’ Jim warns, but I’ve already taken a big gulp, the taste of beer hitting my tongue. He seems impressed, ‘Well, I didn’t expect that.’

        I smile at his praise, ‘You think a girl can’t drink beer?’

        ‘No.’ He smirks, ‘I did think you were a Gin kinda girl though, I admit.’

        ‘Never judge a book.’ I remind him, taking another sip of Jim’s beer for emphasis.

        His hand reaches out to take his cup back, I think Jim deliberately brushes his fingers against mine. Jim clocks my every reaction to him as he places his cup next to mine on the work surface. His voice drops low, his fingers ghosting under my chin and lifting my head up, ’I know you’ve been watching me.’

        Was I that obvious?

        It’s as if I’d said the thought out loud, Jim chuckles. ‘You were kinda obvious.’ His fingers feel wonderful tracing down my skin, tickling slowly down my back. Jim pulls me into him, his eyes never leaving mine as he very gently presses a kiss to my neck, ‘Do you want me tonight?’

        My mouth dips open, his very public advances leaving me shook, Jim’s lips hover over my skin waiting for a response, ‘Yes.’

        He hums and presses another kiss slightly lower down, his eyes dropping down my cleavage, ‘Good.’ He murmurs, ‘I want you too.’

        His words have my knees getting weak, Jim’s breath is warm as he swipes his tongue out to swipe a lick up the side of my throat. Someone giggles from nearby and Jim casts them a dark look. He takes my hand once more, heading for the hallway, ‘Let’s get out of here.’

I follow at once, adrenaline spiking at the idea of what’s to come, but Jim doesn’t leave like I expect us to. He pulls me upstairs, ‘You don’t wanna get out of here?’ I call over as the party fades to a dull backdrop compared to the sight of Jim Mason alone in the upstairs hallway with me.

        ‘Not yet.’ Jim smiles, opening the nearest bedroom. I don’t know what exactly happens, but there’s a scream and then Jim’s apologising profusely, ‘Sorry, Heather. Sorry! Lock your door, next time.’

        I lean against the wall as Jim turns to face me again, surprisingly there’s no one else around but us. He checks the other two bedrooms but they too seem to be occupied or locked.

        ‘Well, we’re not getting a bedroom.’ Jim says, trying to decide what to do. He cocks his head to the side and grins cheekily at me, ‘So I guess here will have to do.’

        He crashes his lips onto mine, Jim’s tongue slipping inside my mouth. I groan, gripping onto his collar as Jim’s hands roam all over me, sliding up my thighs and hiking my dress up around my waist.

        Is this really happening?

‘Jump,’ He whispers and I obey at once, Jim’s hands cupping under my ass as he presses me into the wall. I wrap my legs around him for better purchase as Jim attacks my neck again. I moan as he suckles a mark into my skin, ‘No hickies.’ I try and get out, but Jim’s determined to leave me covered in him.

        ‘You wanted to have me like this.’ He murmurs against my lips, ‘I could see it in your eyes. Begging me to fuck you.’

        His words have already made a mess of me as Jim’s fingers dart into my underwear and gather some of my slick on his fingertip. I watch as he sucks off my arousal, humming low in his throat, ‘You taste so fucking good.’ His eyes find mine, ‘Do you want my fingers in your pretty cunt?’

        I’m practically nodding my head off. I’ve wanted Jim ever since we started making eyes at each other. I’m lost in the headiness of everything, of Jim’s fingers working into my cunt as his praises drip into ears, ‘That’s it, God I can feel you seeping all over my fingers.’

        ‘Jim.’ I can barely even speak his name, Jim’s fingers curling and hitting my G-spot with every thrust. His fingers slither in and out of me, his palm rubbing against my clit as I try and hold myself up, my stomach muscles clenching from the effort. ‘We can’t do this…here.’ I force the words out of me, ‘Someone will see. We can go to my car.’

        ‘No, no baby.’ Jim coos, sucking another mark onto my neck. ‘We’re not leaving this party till you show me how much you want me.’

        His thumb mashes against my clit and I cry out. Jim pulls my lips up to meet his, muffling the sounds I’m making.

        ‘Good girl,’ He praises, never ceasing his ministrations on my clit.

        It’s becoming too much and I let out a squeal that has Jim groaning too, ‘Jim, I’m gonna cum.’

        ‘Do it.’ He urges, ‘Cum all over my fingers.’

        The coil unfurls and I scream, loud enough that I’m certain the partygoers must be able to hear me, Heather definitely can.

‘That’s it,’ Jim praises, ‘My God, you’re so wet, dripping all over my hand.’

        He keeps me up against the wall, but I’m boneless and can barely hold onto him any longer. He lets me down, my dress still hitched up round my waist.

Jim’s eyes fall upon the only door he hasn’t tried - the bathroom. He opens it and on finding it vacant, pulls me inside. ‘Thank God,’ I cry, I’m nowhere near done with Jim, but grateful we’re finally out of such a public view. I push Jim onto the toilet, working the zip of his jeans down, crashing our lips together. Jim helps me get them off, shoving his boxers down.

        His cock springs up against his stomach as he pulls me over, rips off my knickers and helps me sink down on his length. We both groan out our satisfaction, Jim feels so damn good, so deep inside me.

        ‘Ride me.’ He begs, ‘Ride me, Y/N.’

        I bounce up and down on Jim’s cock, never breaking eye-contact with him. It’s intimate and so fucking hot, Jim grunts every time I hit home his hips thrusting off the toilet seat as he tries to go as deep as he possibly can. ‘I’ve seen you in the hallways at school.’ He confesses, ‘Always wanted to speak to you. And then you were here in that tight, red fucking dress and I couldn’t not take my chance.’

        ‘I’m glad you did.’ I moan, circling my hips on Jim’s length.

        ‘Don’t stop.’ He pleads, ‘Wanna cum inside you.’

        ‘Cum for me, Jim. My savior tonight.’ I know I’m not going to cum again, but I want to feel Jim spurt inside me, feel his thick cum leak all out of me. Jim’s thrusts quicken, hitting up inside me at a lightning fast speed. His grunts have turned to whines, ‘Gonna give it all to you,’ He promises. ‘Everything I’ve got.’

        His entire body trembles from the strength of his orgasm. I can feel Jim’s cum dripping out of me, watch it slide back down over his dick. It’s disgusting, yet I feel the tingles of a second orgasm gliding over me as I watch the trail of cum pool on his stomach. It’s much tamer than the first, but still just as pleasurable as I rest my forehead against Jim’s.

I’d never imagined I’d be fucking Jim Mason in my friends’ bathroom at her party, I never thought I could ever land Jim Mason to begin with.

        ‘Did I prove to you how much I want you?’ I ask, nuzzling my nose against his.

        Jim nods, ‘You certainly did.’

        I lift myself off him, both of us groaning at the loss. Jim’s cum drips out onto the floor and we both watch it, my mouth drops open but Jim just collects some of our mingled cum and sucks it into his mouth, ‘So where’s your car?’ He asks, tucking his softening dick back into his boxers and locating his jeans. ‘Am I gonna have to hide you from prying eyes along the way?’

        I blink, ‘You wanna come with me still?’

        ‘Of course.’ Jim pulls my dress down for me and smoothes my hair back into pace. ‘You think I’m the kinda guy to dump you after something like this?’ His fingers are gentle as he kisses me gently on the lips. It takes me by surprise, but I welcome his gentility after such a heated session, ‘I’m not letting you go any time soon.’ Jim reveals, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. His eyes are soft, all facade of coolness dropped as we let the afterglow start to wash over us, ’Not now and maybe not ever.’

Tagging all my babes and faves: @wickedlangdon @sojournmichael @lovelykhaleesiii@alexcornerblog @softlangdvn @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @confettucini@sassylangdon@petersfern-fics @the–queen-of-hell @langdonsoceaneyes@sojournmichael @Langdonalien @Sodanova @yourkingcodyfern @langdonsfallen @thelangdoncooperative @wholockedcumberwumber @sweetlangdon@thegraphitechronicles @drowning-ophelia-writes @starwlkers @Sloppy-Wrist @wroteclassicaly

[mksc77]

88 from the drable list, shandy

Thanks so much for the ask, @ozzlover! I apologize for the awkward beginning, I was spending entirely too much time trying to start it smoothly and got nowhere 🙈

Park City, July 2019. Sharon hasn’t had any kind of heart issue—I can’t validate that absurd storyline, sorry. She’s just healthy and happy, as it should’ve been.

Kate-Sharon’s sister

Claire-Sharon’s niece’s daughter

Beth-Sharon’s sister-in-law

James-Sharon’s brother-in-law

William-Sharon’s brother

Bill and Marie-Sharon’s parents

88–“Come here.”

“I’ve got to get out of the house. Anyone want to take a quick jet ski ride?” Kate asked.

“I do,” Sharon quickly volunteered. She’d been thinking the same thing.

“You guys stay close to the house,” Bill advised. “There’s some bad weather coming in, and you know how quickly a bad storm can brew here.”

“We will,” Sharon agreed, instead of responding with an eye roll and an indignant “I know, I’m a grownup,” like any of her kids would’ve done. She didn’t let her annoyance show, knowing she would’ve given her adult children the same instruction. It wasn’t that hot outside, so they stayed in their shorts and t-shirts and made their way down to the water. Once their life vests were buckled and the jet ski was unhooked, they discarded their flip-flops on the dock and climbed on.

Kate drove through a couple of nearby coves before slowing to a stop. “Here, we can trade. I know you’re dying to drive.”

“Thanks. I pulled Emily and Claire on the tube for a little bit this morning, but I had to go slowly. Claire still has a couple of years before I can be as ruthless with her as I was with our kids.” Sharon moved her left leg to the right side and carefully maneuvered herself around Kate, who was leaning to the left and sliding herself to the back in a technique they’d perfected over the years. The temperature had dropped to the familiar pre-thunderstorm chill since they’d come outside, and Sharon released a contented sigh as she picked up speed and felt the cool air blowing against her face.

A few minutes later, Sharon heard a low rumble of thunder, so she turned back toward the house. By the time they got back and tied the jet ski back up, heavy rain was cascading down. Sharon and Kate peered up at the sky. “We’re just going to have to run for it, this isn’t going to let up anytime soon,” Kate said.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sharon agreed. She didn’t know why they bothered to run, as they were both soaked within seconds of leaving the protection of the covered dock. They could hear hearty laughter coming from the porch by the time they crossed the walkway over the water and reached the first of a few flights of steps leading up to the house.

“Is there a single person in this family who’s not an asshole?” Kate muttered.

When they got to the porch, they were met with several amused looks as they squeezed all of the excess water they could out of their clothes and hair. “I’m in charge of dinner tomorrow night, and I’m taking notes of who’s laughing,” Kate warned. She jumped as a loud clap of thunder echoed through the mountains. “Come on, Sharon, there are some beach towels in the dryer.”

Once they were inside, Andy remembered that he’d gotten the towels out and folded them, so he grabbed one he knew was in Sharon’s bag on the porch and followed them inside.

“I don’t have a single drop of estrogen in my body, and I’m still cold,” Kate commented as she peeled her sopping t-shirt over her head.

Sharon shivered as the air conditioner hit the cool water on her body and opened the dryer. “Same here...oh, no, I forgot Andy got these out and folded them earlier.”

Andy tapped on the closed laundry room door. “Sorry, guys, I forgot I moved the towels. I have one right here, and I’ll go grab another one.”

Sharon cracked open the door and took the towel. “Thanks, honey.” She handed the towel to Kate, who was already mostly undressed. “You can take that one, I’ll wait for Andy.” She stripped down to her bra and panties and opened the washing machine. “Give me your clothes, and I’ll just put them in the wash.”

“Thanks.” Kate finished undressing and wrapped the towel around herself. “I think it’s about time for a glass of wine, you want some?”

“Sure.” By the time Sharon was completely undressed and had the washing machine humming, Andy was coming in with a towel for her. He paused for a moment to look her over, clearly enjoying the effects the cold rain had on her body. Sharon rolled her eyes. “Enjoying the view?”

“Oh yeah. You could’ve owned a wet t-shirt contest, no problem. But, next time you guys decide to take a pre-storm joyride, I’m gonna need for you to take off your bra first.”

“Andy!” Sharon shook her head in amusement. It was rather entertaining how little it took to get him going.

“Come here.” Andy held the towel open as Sharon stepped toward him and wrapped it around her. He rubbed her back through the towel and kissed her forehead. “Need anything else?”

“No, I’m just going to change and come back to the porch.” Sharon went to their bedroom, dried herself off, and changed into leggings and one of Andy’s LAPD t-shirts. Her hair was wet and tangled, so she worked a hairbrush through it and braided it.

Sharon stepped out to the porch and took her glass of wine from Kate before curling up beside Andy in his chair. “Feel a little better?” He murmured.

“Much.” Sharon sipped her wine and lay on his shoulder, enjoying his warmth and the sound of the pouring rain and clapping thunder. The breeze had picked up, and she could smell the charcoal from the grill as it heated up. She loved the smell of charcoal, and she breathed deeply and gazed out at the mountains. Andy rested his chin on top of her head and idly stroked his fingers back and forth over her hair, barely aware he was doing it. Sharon could’ve easily fallen asleep, but she sat up when Beth came outside with a drowsy-looking, ten-month-old Marie in her arms. The baby grinned and reached down for Sharon. “Hey, precious,” Sharon cooed.

Emily peered at the monitor beside her. “Thanks, Aunt Beth. I didn’t even hear her.”

“I peeked in at her, and she was just starting to wake up. I probably didn’t give her any time to make noise,” Beth answered as she passed Marie to Sharon.

Andy held his hand to Marie’s cheek and kissed the side of her head. “Her eyes seem to get more green every day. Girl. You are going to look just like your Gammy.”

“Hey, Marie, ask Gammy for her legs and boobs while she’s handing stuff out,” Emily spoke up. “She skipped right over me.”

Sharon shrugged. “Don’t look at me, that’s your Aunt Kate’s fault.” She shifted against Andy with Marie nuzzled into her shoulder and rubbed her back. She loved holding her when she was still sleepy after a nap. Emmett and Emily had found a house and moved out a few months before, and Sharon missed seeing Marie every day.

A little while later, William came outside, dressed in rain gear, with a platter of the first round of steaks and chicken for the grill. The part of the outside porch with the grill was covered, but it was so windy that he still would’ve gotten wet otherwise. “Andy, don’t let me forget to add your fish. It won’t take as long as the other meat.”

Andy nodded. “Thanks.”

A few hours later, after eating dinner and sitting on the porch for a while, Sharon stood up and reached for Andy’s hand. “You ready for bed?” Another storm was brewing, and she knew just how she wanted to spend it.

“I was hoping this was what was on your mind,” Andy admitted when Sharon stepped out of the bathroom in a soft, rose-colored chemise. “I’ve been thinking about it since I saw you in your soaked clothes earlier. That was foreplay in itself.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “When are you not thinking about it?”

Andy shrugged. “Fair point.”

Later that night, Sharon woke up to a loud crash of thunder. A streak of lightning illuminated the room, and she could hear the wind howling outside. Andy hadn’t so much as flinched. After years of motherhood in general, not to mention the months she’d feared for Rusty’s life, it didn’t take much to wake her up in the middle of the night, but Andy could easily sleep through World War Three. The faint sound of the TV drifted from the living room, so she padded down the hall and found her dad and Kate watching the weather. “What’s going on?”

“This storm looks pretty bad. We should probably go downstairs,” Bill answered. There was a bedroom, bathroom, and a small sitting room in the basement.

“I’ll go upstairs and get everyone up, if you guys want to handle the rest,” Kate volunteered.

Sharon looked out the window. The porch light was on, and she could see the tree branches waving in the heavy wind. “All right, I’ll get Andy, James, and Emily and Emmett. I apologize in advance for my boys, they don’t take too kindly to being woken up.”

“Just like their mother,” Bill pointed out.

Kate grinned. “Don’t worry, I can handle their whiny asses.”

Sharon went back down the hall and gently shook Andy’s shoulder. “Andy!” She hissed.

“Whaaaaat,” Andy grumbled. “I know I’m irresistible, but—“

“As tempting as that is, you need to get up. This storm is terrible, and Dad thinks we need to go downstairs.”

“Hmmm—oh.” Andy jumped up and pulled some sweatpants on over his boxers and found a t-shirt. “Damn, I haven’t heard wind like that in a long time. I’ll go get the boys—“

“Kate’s getting them, and I’ll go wake Emily and Emmett. Help my dad find some flashlights and make sure he and Mom get downstairs okay, please. I’m surprised we still have power.” Sharon went across the hall and had a similar conversation with Emily and Emmett. “I’ll get Marie, and you guys grab whatever you need and come on downstairs.” Sharon felt around the pack’n play for Marie’s pacifier before carefully lifting her out and holding her to her shoulder. She stirred, but Sharon patted her back and bounced her a little before she felt heavier against her shoulder. She could hear Ricky and Rusty bitching above the noise of the others coming downstairs, and James had woken up himself from all of the commotion, so she carefully made her way down the stairs.

“Did you have to send Aunt Kate to wake us up?” Rusty complained as everyone got settled. “She enjoyed that a little too much.”

Sharon ruffled his hair. “Sorry, honey.”

“Don’t listen to them, I was nice about it,” Kate insisted.

Ricky snorted. “In what universe is turning the light on and yelling, ‘Get your asses up, bitches,’ nice?”

William and Beth had the downstairs bedroom, and the noise drew Beth out to the sitting area. “What’s going on....Never mind.” Even in the cave of the basement, they could hear a loud thud as a tree seemed to have fallen somewhere.

Sharon turned to Andy. “You mind taking Marie? I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Sure.” Andy gently took the baby and settled her against his shoulder, smiling as she sighed and buried her face into his neck.

Sharon noticed her mom’s sweeping gaze over the room, probably triple-checking that her entire brood was accounted for. “We’re all here, Mom. Don’t worry.”

The next morning, Sharon was up before 8:00, despite the middle-of-the-night excitement. They’d stayed in the basement for about an hour and a half before coming back upstairs. She heard movement from Emily’s and Emmett’s room when she walked by and figured Marie was awake, so she stuck her head in the door. Emmett was lifting Marie out of the pack’n play. “I’ll take her, Emmett. Go back to bed.”

“Thanks, Sharon.”

Sharon got a diaper and some wipes and carried Marie to the kitchen to warm up a bottle. Her parents and William were in the kitchen. William had always been an early riser, just like their dad. Marie’s face broke into a grin when she spotted Bill. Shocking no one, he had been spoiling her all week. “Hold on, baby girl, let me warm your bottle, and you have a soggy little bottom. You can go to Granddad after I change you.”

“I’ll change her,” the older Marie spoke up. “Once your dad gets a hold of her, no one else will have a chance for a while.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Sharon passed Marie to her and put a cup of water in the microwave. Bill handed her a cup of coffee and pulled her into his arms. “Morning, darling.”

Sharon wrapped her arms around him and rested against his shoulder for a few moments. “Morning, Dad.”

When the bottle was ready, Sharon added a little bit of whole milk. Emily was slowly transitioning Marie from breast milk and hoped to have her completely on regular milk soon after she was a year old. So far, it wasn’t going so well. Bill had taken Marie out to the porch by then, so Sharon took the bottle outside and sat beside her dad in the swing.

“She knows there’s something else in this milk,” Bill commented as he gave Marie the bottle. She’d made a face, but she was too hungry not to take it.

Sharon nodded. “She looks at us like we’re conspiring against her when we give her a bottle now. Emily still nurses a good bit, but she’s about ready to give it up.” She got up and looked out over the yard. There were some limbs down in the yard and over the steps leading down to the lake, but that was about it. They’d lost power soon after they’d gone downstairs the night before, but it was back on now. A house a few down from them had had a tree fall into the porch, and a couple of the surrounding yards had a bit more damage, in general. They’d been lucky. She sipped her coffee as she looked over the lake. It was still cloudy, and fog was drifting over the mountains and glassy water.

Sharon smiled when she felt Andy’s arms around her. He kissed her cheek and rested his chin on her shoulder. “How’s it looking?”

“Not too terrible for us, but this was a bad one. I haven’t seen a storm like this here since Emily and Ricky were teenagers.”

Andy gave her a gentle squeeze before backing away. “Some of the others are starting to get up. I’m going to go start the first round of breakfast.”

“Sounds good.” Sharon turned around to give him a proper kiss. “I love you.”

“Back atcha, babe.”

[neverwatchedonepiece]

538-539: "The Straw Hats Defeated?! Hordy Gains Control of the Rygu Palace!" and "The Haunting Ties! Nami and the Fish-Man Pirates!"

Neptune’s finely tuned Roid-dar in action.

Finally figured out what was wrong with Chrome, so it’s business as usual. (FYI, it was the antivirus SSL scanning feature conflicting with certain websites’ certificates. Not great that I have to turn it off for browsers to function but that is a rant for another blog.)

On the Fishman Island arc front, 539 was the episode I’d been waiting for. I don’t have all the story yet but I know it’s coming. I’m excited to see what Oda does with Queen Otohime and Fisher Tiger’s stories. I also wanted to talk about Nami this post and I finally have the chance because she’s already at the Sea Forest and has met Jimbei (more on that later).

[title]

A Fishman Captain who can’t beat a human in a fight underwater without resorting to performance enhancing Fish Roids can’t amount to much, either. 

Just a thought.

Must say the spoileriffic title for 538 was unexpected. I honestly thought Zoro would win, or at least force a stalemate so that he could hold back the invasion with Usopp and Brook. Nope. Oda has diverted the plot in a direction I did not predict. Now I’m wondering how Neptune will retake the palace. I’m thinking a concerted effort, with the royal guard, maybe some citizens, plus reunited Strawhats out in force. Mainly so the Strawhats can clear their name because right now, the locals still believe they’re responsible for storming the palace and kidnapping Shirahoshi.

There was some good tension sustained when Zoro was fighting underwater and knew he had to surface to breathe. He defeated Hordy but was grabbed by a bunch of Hordy’s Roided Goons. When I was a kid, I remember playing Sonic the Hedgehog. There was nothing like that dread when Sonic was underwater and the oxygen countdown started. Find a bubble or else! Even though I knew Zoro’s plot shield would hold, I still felt that tension. xD For a moment, I was annoyed that Usopp didn’t go help him but then I realised Usopp was the only thing stopping Brook from sinking like a stone.

Neptune was great. I like the guy now. Compared to Hordy Jones, he’s an excellent leader. I brought up before his tendency to take advice, to listen to his people and consider their opinions even if he weighs them up and decides to do something else. In 537, it was obvious that Neptune cares about his people. He realised the Fish roids could be a real threat to his people’s safety. Instead of saving face, instead of a “we shall defend this palace to the death!” attitude that only gets people killed, Neptune only considered getting everyone out safely, and used his strength to secure an escape route: sacrificing himself in the process.

When his men did escape, they immediately thought of Neptune, of how he had helped them. They wanted to help Neptune because of everything he had done for them.

Compare that to Hordy “Become my Meat Shield or Die” Jones. He rules by fear and thinks of his dispensable soldiers in terms of what they can do for him.

It’s clear who the best king here is.

Must admit, though. Hordy Jones is organised. He instructed his head goons to assemble raiding parties to invade different districts of Mermaid Cove. Waterwheel Town, Candy Factory Town, Fishverly Hills, and other places I didn’t catch are under the control of Hordy Jones. His Head Goons wasted no time forcing the new regime and the new ideals on the locals, forcing them to commit a highly-charged political act of disrespect: step on an image of Queen Otohime or die. 

Naturally, Fukaboshi was fuming when he found out what was going on. That was his mother. Not cool. (I am hopeful he will lead the counterattack. I bet he’ll succeed Neptune some day.)

I’m also wondering about Big Mom. Candy Factory Town has fallen to Hordy Jones. If the tribues stop pouring in from Fishman Island, would she send someone to see what’s going on and kick Hordy’s ass herself? I mean, sure, the Roids make him strong, but this is a Yonkou were talking about here.

And Brook is a potential wild card here too. When Neptune, Zoro and Usopp were captured, Hordy’s Goons dismissed Brook. “What’s that skeleton doing here?” “Dunno.” I wonder if Brook will do a Sanji and complete the stealth missions this arc?

Jimbei’s Glorious Reaction Face

LUFFY-KUN, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

Watching Jimbei unravel like that was hilarious. It’s always funnier when the stoic characters crack. Only Luffy could stress someone out that much. And we got two in a row when he realised Hachi was there too. Chopper should start running blood pressure clinics for those suffering Strawhat-induced stress.

The object of Jimbei’s stress was that Luffy had appeared with Princess Shirahoshi in tow. Jimbei knew all the crap she had been through (I wonder if he tried to stop it before but couldn’t find Decken?). He also knew how unsafe it was for her to be outside. Just as he said this to Luffy, a random axe whirred through the air and Luffy deflected it.

I admire Luffy’s unwavering confidence that he can protect Shirahoshi (“She knows I’ve got her back!”) and I love that he did take her to the Sea Forest to pray at her mother’s grave (that was sad) but it is bloody dangerous, you’ve got to admit. Jimbei said the harrassment started after Queen Otohime’s death so poor Shirahosi couldn’t even attend her mother’s funeral (I need someone to kick that guy’s ass ASAP. Do not care who it is now.) What if Luffy suddenly has his hands full? Maybe Sanji will step in and fend off Decken, now that he’s back to normal, thank god. I guess the most effective treatment for Sanji’s weakness is immersion therapy.

The lack of message to Luffy is also suspicious. Why did Jimbei’s message not get through? Someone is intercepting communication. I wonder if Hordy is behind this too. Maybe he doesn’t want the peaceable but powerful Jimbei ruining his plans.

Den-san wondered what all the commotion was and shouted out from Sunny’s deck (and Franky had his “My captain is a dumbass” moment). Not long after, Nami and Camie arrived.

I liked that Oda assembled those three Merfolk and Fishmen together because they were able to represent different voices from Fishmen Island. It wasnt’ just one person speaking for their history. All of them had a voice.

Including a human who had been affected by the violent repercussions of Fishman Island’s brutal history.

Nami and Fishman History

I have been wanting to write about Nami for ages. After I finished the last post, I started thinking about Hordy and what he would think of Nami if he found out about her. I guessed he would hate her for betraying Arlong and would want revenge. It’s funny, but Hordy made the same mistake with Nami as Arlong did. He underestimated her. When she left with Camie, Hordy’s goons did tell him, but he dismissed the warning. Let them go. It doesn’t matter.

Now, I wonder if history will repeat itself. Nami has escaped, has told Luffy what’s going on and soon they will have the power to regroup, counterattack and re-take the palace. I doubt they will ever fix the relationships between humans and Fishfolk. But maybe they could be a symbol of improvement, if nothing else.

Nami’s reaction to Jimbei in the last episode was telling. Something was up there, I was certain of it. Again, in 538, she was indifferent to the point of wariness when she spoke to him. Camie was full of admiration. Nami was guarded. She also wanted to skip straight to the point and halted Sanji’s fool antics in their tracks because she had a bone to pick with Jimbei.

I had been thinking about Jimbei and how he might be related to all the troubles in Fishman Island.

I had no idea he was the one who set Arlong on the rampage in East Blue.

Nami must have known something. Maybe she heard Arlong talking about Jimbei. Maybe Arlong told stories about the Sun Pirates and Jimbei’s name came up.

Jimbei did apologise. He said he was grateful for the Strawhats stopping Arlong wreaking further havoc in East Blue. But for Nami - and Sanji for that matter (I am so glad the daft behaviour has stopped. I like Sanji best when he’s being serious) - the apology wasn’t quite enough.

Sanji remembered was Yosaku told them about JImbei (I would totally have forgot about this if not for the flashback). In exchange for joining the Shichibukai, he set Arlong loose. Still not sure exactly what that means. Did Jimbei say, “Right, Arlong, go get those stinky humans” or did he have to cut the extremist Arlong loose so he could ascend to an official government role and not be tainted be association?

Sanji was cool here. “If you wanna make excuses, fine,” he said. “But Nami here had her home taken over by Arlong and went through hell. Depending on what you say, I might not forgive you.”

Which is fair enough, actually. No one is obliged to forgive anyone.

Nami told her story. She also said that travelling to Sabaody Park and finding out about how awfully Fishmen are treated would never change the way she feels about Arlong, but now she understands why he thought that way.

That is hugely generous of her, honestly. Considering the way Nami was treated by Arlong, to even feel the tiniest shred of understanding for his motives is remarkable. She saw how Camie and Hachi were treated and I think it was a real eye-opener for her. One that she’d never forget

Then the story of Fishman Island was told by three Fishmen who had lived through the worst of its history, Jimbei, Hachi and Den-san.

Nami mentioned that Arlong Park looked exactly like Sabaody Park. Hachi said that when they were little, they yearned for what the human world had. That shot above is like poor street kids looking over a wall into a gated community and longing for the tiniest portion of what the rich people have. 

But when they grew up, they hurt so many humans, Hachi said. He heard that, long ago, Fishmen and Merfolk were considered mere fish by humans. (This reminds me of how 18th century western academics used to classify other races as subhuman. Disgusting.) But then two hundred years ago, the Ryugu Kingdom became a member of the World Government.

You would think that would improve relations, wouldn’t you? But no. The Celestial Dragons, the ones who held the real power, were still bigoted and were the worst of them all.

The Great Pirate Era hit and Den-san said that was the worst time of all. Human pirates rampaged through Fishman Island. It was taken over.

And now I know why Jimbei was so determined to fight and die for Whitebeard. Saint Whitebeard the Great saved Fishman Island, claimed it for his own and imposed peace.

But humans still didn’t like Fishmen. The Strawhats had seen that at Sabaody. Even though the World Government bridged the gap in relations, it did not improve much. 

Then two figures stepped up to change Fishman Island’s history forever.

Queen Otohime, Shirahoshi’s mother, tried to convince the islanders to live in harmony with humans. 

Fisher Tiger, the hero who invaded Mariejois ON HIS OWN to free the imprisoned Fishman slaves, called for a parting of the ways between Fishmen and humans. 

I haven’t heard all the story yet, but I’m guessing these two have a Major Difference of Opinion.

I can’t wait to hear the rest. 

This is some good stuff. I love the themes in this arc. There’s so much here that resonates strongly with current events. It’s almost spooky...

You’re right, Franky. There’s no point. Just smile and nod.