su´s stuff

hi! I'm su! 30yo, languages learning: english, french and italian. native language: spanish! honestly you will find a little bit of everything here so welcome if you are old enough! minors keep out!🔞 also abandon all expectations please those are in minus numbers haha

[radiolightning]

In case anyone is having a bad night:

Here is the fudgiest brownie in a mug recipe I’ve found

Here are some fun sites

Here is a master post of Adventure Time episodes and comics

Here is a master post of movies including Disney and Studio Ghibli

Here is a master post of other master posts to TV shows and movies

*tucks you in with fuzzy blanket* *pats your head*

You’ll be okay, friend <3

[meanwolfs-remade-deactivated201]

i will reblog this everytime it shows up because any of my followers could have a bad night right now

[becausewhatiam-iswhatimnot]

All these links, besides the first, are broken. So here’s some more.

Here’s an emergency compliment

Here you can play 2048

Here’s a playlist of Bob ross

Here’s a website to watch movie’s and shows for free

Here’s a website to watch documentaries for free

Here you can to nothing for two minutes

Here you can break something. It’s good for anger

Here’s a button to press to make everything okay

Here’s a site to cut something up (TRIGGER WARNING)

Here’s a site that makes you a website depending on a song you choose

Here’s a gay comic. It’s adorable

Here you can spend Bill Gate’s money

Here you can draw your own island

Here you can learn about patterns website’s use

Here you can get your life stats

Here you can listen to the Tucker Zone (Headphones needed)

Here you can see how fast you’re moving

Here you can see the progress of time

Here you can see the future of the universe 

[becausewhatiam-iswhatimnot]

Want some more? 

Here’s the butterfly project

Here’s a snickerdoodle mug cake

Here’s a link to some free audiobooks

Here’s something to read when you feel like a burden

Here’s a secret

Here’s my playlist of some sea shanties 

Here’s another secret

Here’s a link to some cool websites 

Here’s a blog that gives you recipes for when you’re low on spoons

Here’s some Brony Headcanon’s

[becausewhatiam-iswhatimnot]

Some more? I’ve got plenty

Here’s 100,000 stars

Here you can control the weather (TW FLASHING IMAGES)

Here you can weave silk

Here you can make a castle of your own

Here you can make a kaleidoscope drawing

Here you can explore recursion

Here you can play a jelly block game

[becausewhatiam-iswhatimnot]

I’m back with some more! 

Here you can draw with pasta

Here you can draw logo’s from memory

Here you can play this is sand, here you draw cool sand designs

Here you can play The Organ Trail

Here’s a customizable white noise website

Here you can simulate gravity

Here you can create your own guardian of the galaxy

Here you can make your own galaxy

Here’s a website you can get some support at.

[becausewhatiam-iswhatimnot]

to find later

[addiewho]

Here you can split circles into smaller and smaller pieces (I found this really satisfying)

Here you can have images of people point to where your pointer is

Here you can paint someone’s nails

Here you can grow a garden across your screen (Audio included)

Here you can try out all kinds of mind illusions (Trigger Warning: Flashing Lights)

Here you can see how many miles you have scrolled

Here you can watch a website load forever, although you might be getting enough of this on Tumblr mobile

Here’s a rickroll

Here you can remind yourself that you’re awesome.

Here you can throw trash into a dustbin only for it to bounce right back out (Audio included)

Here you can make sand dunes using sand (Audio included)

And here you can generate more cool websites like these

[boy-in-the-stars]

pinning thissss

[fiddlepickdouglas]

And yet more!!!

Here you can listen to a gentle rainstorm

Here you can make snowflakes

Here is a Line Rider feature film with relaxing music

Here is the entire script to the Princess Bride (many don’t need it but it’s fun to read anyway)

Here is an abbreviated script for the entirety of Book 1 of A:TLA that I made out of anger at the film that definitely doesn’t exist

Here is a playlist of the top 10 most relaxing songs ranked according to science

Here’s a site where you can make a dude beatbox with fun animations

[nyxsomnia7]

I’m fully aware I will need this at some point.

[ceekay-star]

i still havent caught up and havent SEEN him in the anime but hell yeah who doesnt wanna draw shamrock

[aikopen]

Excuse me, SIR 🧎‍♀️

[06ari-ari]

Was sketching while ago and this song got into the playlist

[nomunun]

happy birthday to my favorite twins!

[bebetevaobora]

FIGARLAND SHAMROCK X FEM!READER wc:653!!!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It began with remarkable subtlety, much like a sunrise that can be breathtaking before, hours later, giving way to a devastating storm.

Shamrock had been innocent — a lovestruck fool.

Your invitation to him to spend the night at your house had not gone unnoticed by Jade, the cat. Your little gremlin watched you pace around the bedroom, carefully getting ready in all those tiny ways that reflected the affection she had grown accustomed to ever since you adopted her. Her large, fluffy body rested atop a pink cotton cushion on your vanity, made especially for her.

Jade yawned, blinked slowly, and lowered her head with the quiet resignation reserved for emperors exhausted by their own grand empires.

The little cat trusted that you would never do anything to upset her, because that was the unspoken language shared between mother and daughter. No one was allowed to disturb the peace of their home. Jade would make sure of that.

Much to her displeasure, however, there was a fool for everything.

She neither hid, nor avoided him, nor did she approach. Instead, she observed every interaction from a safe distance, and within only a few minutes, she had already reached her verdict on the man — as she always did with anyone who stepped into your life.

He was nothing more than a stray dog ​​from Mary Geoise.

The mutual dislike had been expected. You had warned him beforehand that your cat — your adorable little princess — could be excessively protective. Shamrock, however, would have described the situation very differently. From his perspective, he was simply an ignorant outsider, an explorer trespassing upon territory that already belonged to someone else. And that someone else was an overweight, greedy, jealous cat beyond human comprehension. The Commander had a vague understanding that, for your sake, the wicked little creature would be perfectly willing to spill blood.

Their endless clashes eventually brought them to a point where one of them would have to give in, because you would never tolerate fighting — even if it happened when you weren't looking.

The Commander tried — emphasis on tried — to be diplomatic, and, in a way, even resorted to a little bribery. He brought toys, custom-made clothes, expensive treats from time to time, and the determination of a man seeking the approval of the woman he loved.

And with her little paws dangling lazily in the air, Jade stared at him with utter smugness, as though he were merely one more fool who had tried before and failed miserably.

Then came one particular morning, when the sun struggled to pierce the heavy curtains with rays like threads of gold. Shamrock slept peacefully, one protective hand resting against your back beneath the comforter that covered him up to his shoulders, finally getting the proper rest he had long neglected because of his duties.

Digging her claws into him out of pure spite, Jade appeared perched atop his back. There was curiosity in her eyes — a silent question of whether Shamrock truly needed to remain alive.

She had been sitting there for several minutes already, thoroughly bored, patiently waiting for the man to have the decency to disappear so she could wake you herself with soft, adorable meows — something he had absolutely no right to witness firsthand.

When he finally stirred, feeling an unusual weight pressing against his lower back, he turned just enough — still sleepy and therefore half-blind — to identify the threat.

What followed was an intense exchange of stares, the very same kind Shamrock reserved for his targets and sworn enemies.

And yet, perhaps it was the absurdly early hour, or the sweet scent lingering in your sheets, or the comforting warmth he felt simply by lying beside you, but Shams did what any wise man in his position would have done...

He gave up.

Letting his head fall back onto the pillow once more.

Which the smug cat naturally interpreted as a victory, padding even closer before curling up against her enemy's exposed shoulder.

notes: I'm taking this from drafts without much revision. If you liked it, know that I'm sending you a kiss. If you didn't like it: I'll be sending you a kiss on the mouth 🤭🤭

[aikopen]

ROYALTY

Figarland Shamrock X Fem! Reader

Word Count: 11.8K

Story Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

CHAPTER 5: REVERIE

Summary: You are a noble from Goa Kingdom, yearning of freedom from the system. Outlook III, your father send you to Mary Geoise to participate on the marriage mart. His order are simple, to find a secure match as the way to get access for your family to become Celestial Dragon. You've never wanted this, but you caught the attention of certain red haired figure. What would you do about it?

Trope: Enemies to Lovers

Warning: All characters are legal, age gap, angst, dark romance, jealousy, mention of slavery, shitty celestial dragons behavior, shitty parents, NSFW, sex, suggestive contents, saint charlos, abuse of power, use of alcohol, cruelty, use of gun, use of illegal substance, sexual harassment, misogynist society, mention of prostitution, out of character, more tag will be added.

Truth does not always arrive bearing good news worthy of celebration. Not every truth is capable of bringing smiles, relief, or the comforting hope people long to hear. More often than not, it comes as something heavy, shocking, even painful. It has the power to shatter hopes carefully built over time, dismantle convictions once held with unwavering certainty, or force into the light the very reality one has desperately tried to avoid.

Yet the truth remains the truth. It does not change simply because it is bitter or difficult to accept. There are moments when reality stands in stark contrast to one's deepest wishes and expectations, and it is in those moments that the truth demands the courage to be accepted for what it is. There is no choice but to face it, even when the heart refuses and the mind searches endlessly for reasons to deny it.

It may leave behind scars that never fully fade or disappointments that cut deeper than words can express. Even so, the truth will always hold far greater worth than a lie that offers nothing more than fleeting comfort. For only by accepting reality as it is can one learn, grow, and continue moving forward with a clearer understanding of both life—and oneself.

Truth may not always be beautiful, but it will always bring people closer to reality.

The World Economic Journal was nothing like the gossip-filled pages of the St. N.I. Gazette, a publication that had long thrived on whispers, rumors, and speculation with little regard for whether any of it was true. While the gossip paper delighted its readers with sensationalized stories crafted to capture attention, The World Economic Journal sought to document real events unfolding across the globe, from shifts in the global economy and the ever-changing landscape of international trade to industrial developments and government policies that shaped the lives of millions.

Yet like many other publications The World Economic Journal was not entirely free from vested interests. Some of its articles had been carefully polished, arranged, and presented in ways that gradually stripped away their objectivity. Facts that should have stood on their own were framed through carefully chosen perspectives, selectively presented or emphasized in ways that favored particular individuals or organizations. As a result, what was intended to inform the public could just as easily become a tool for shaping public opinion.

In certain editions observant readers could easily notice how some events were dramatized far beyond their actual significance, while others that failed to support the desired narrative were buried in the corner of a page or omitted altogether. Information that should have served as a means of understanding reality was at times  transformed into an instrument of propaganda, carefully designed to influence the way society perceived the world.

It had been about a month since you first read the shocking headline printed across the newspaper a bulletin reporting an incident in a kingdom that was all too familiar to you. Though time had continued to move forward and countless new stories had filled the issues that followed, that particular article remained etched vividly in your mind. Every sentence you had read seemed to have carved itself into your memory refusing to fade no matter how much time had passed.

DONQUIXOTE DOFLAMINGO DEFEATED. THE THRONE OF DRESSROSA RESTORED TO ITS RIGHTFUL KING.

The headline stretched boldly across the front page printed in large heavy letters as if determined to ensure that no reader could possibly overlook it. Even after an entire month you could still recall every word with perfect clarity.

You were not disappointed that the pirate had finally been brought down for what he had done to Dressrosa. The peace he had offered had been nothing more than an illusion maintained through absolute control, silence, and oppression. A level of manipulation so masterful that you had never imagined a single person could wield it. Only now did you truly understand how Donquixote Doflamingo had earned the secret title of the ‘Heavenly Demon’ a name so few had known before the tragedy unfolded.

And the realization left you feeling painfully foolish.

Because you had come dangerously close to falling under his spell.

It was something you hated to admit, but perhaps you should have listened to what Shamrock had told you at the ballroom that night. What had the former Celestial Dragon done after being cast out of Mary Geoise? How had a pirate managed to become the king of a country that had never been his birthplace or home?

Doflamingo's defeat in the kingdom he had stolen forced you to see the world differently. It was no longer as simple as right and wrong, black and white. Reality was far more complicated than you had wanted to believe.

The names of those involved in bringing down the tyrant were printed just as prominently beneath the article.The Straw Hat Pirates, The Heart Pirates, even the Revolutionary Army had reportedly taken part in the incident.

Monkey D. Luffy.

Trafalgar Law.

But among them was one name that struck you harder than all the others. A name you knew better than your own, The name of someone who had once grown up by your side.

Sabo.

Your younger brother.

The boy whom everyone had believed to be dead for so many years.

You had only just learned that Sabo had been alive all this time and that he now stood as the Revolutionary Army's second-in-command. That revelation had come hand in hand with the truth behind Doflamingo's reign in Dressrosa, yet it was Sabo's survival that consumed your thoughts above all else.

His death had long since become an undeniable reality in your heart. A painful truth you had mourned, accepted, and eventually learned to live with. Never, not even once, had you imagined that another truth had been hidden beneath that tragedy, one so impossible to foresee.

He was no longer the gap-toothed little boy who loved to fart and sneak away from home in favor of wandering through Gray Terminal or the mountains. He had grown into a young man with a heart ablaze, dedicating his life to leading a revolution against a corrupt government. Time had reshaped him into someone entirely different, forging a mature man from the reckless child you once knew. You could scarcely find any trace of the innocent boy who had laughed, played, and grown up beside you.

At first you barely recognized him. His features had matured, his blond hair had grown longer, and a scar now crossed one of his eyes, a mark whose story you could only wonder about. Yet despite all those changes some things had remained exactly the same. Your brother was still chasing freedom, only now he was no longer seeking it for himself alone because he was also fighting to reclaim it for those who had been stripped of theirs.

For the past month, you had searched relentlessly for answers to the questions that refused to leave your mind. You couldn't risk making a scrapbook filled with newspaper clippings about the Revolutionary Army, nor could you pin articles across your wall and connect them with strings like a seasoned detective. You were living at the very heart of the World Government's civilization, a place where even the slightest hint of sympathy toward rebellion was enough to invite suspicion. Even so in whatever ways you could you kept searching for the truth.

How had Sabo ended up joining the Revolutionary Army?

Had he really been alive all this time?

Had he deliberately faked his death all those years ago?

Why were you only learning the truth now?

Where was your little brother at this very moment?

"Today's newspaper is awful. Not a single article about the Great King of Goa. The least they could have done was dedicate a special feature to my outstanding outfit at the Reverie."

The complaint shattered the silence that had settled over the sitting room. For the past several minutes, the only sounds had been the rustling of turning newspaper pages and the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. The voice belonged to the young man seated not far from you.

He was reading today's edition of The World Economic Journal, though ‘reading’ was perhaps too generous a word. He seemed far more interested in finding something to complain about than in the news itself. Leaning lazily against the back of his chair he let the newspaper fall onto his lap before clicking his tongue in obvious dissatisfaction.

You did not even have to look up to know what expression he was wearing. A pout, a hint of irritation and above all the unmistakable look of someone convinced he had not received the attention he deserved. Some habits never changed no matter how many titles a person accumulated. It was still hard to believe that the young man sulking over his absence from the front page was none other than the rightful King of the Goa Kingdom.

Sterry, the adopted younger brother who had suddenly entered your life and Sabo's, was never there to brighten your childhood. Instead he left behind nothing but unpleasant memories. You had long since lost count of how many times he had bullied and tormented the two of you. As if that were not enough the shameless brat constantly ran to Outlook and Didit to report every little thing you or Sabo did despite being no better himself. He truly was the most insufferable adopted brother imaginable.

After his father-in-law died under mysterious circumstances, the crown princess ascended the throne and made Sterry her king. Now he had come to Mary Geoise to attend the Reverie, the grand summit held every four years where rulers from every corner of the world gathered. You silently prayed that the people of the Goa Kingdom would be granted patience and resilience, because their fate now rested in the hands of your arrogant, big-headed adopted brother.

"There are far more important things in the news than your clothes. Just accept reality." You remarked casually as you turned another page of the newspaper, discreetly searching for any article that mentioned the Revolutionary Army.

At your words, Sterry placed a hand over the left side of his chest as though your remark had pierced his heart. "Sister, you are so cruel."

You frowned. You had never liked the way he called you sister in that forced tone. The words always sounded awkward coming from him, completely devoid of the warmth and affection that should naturally exist between siblings.

Perhaps it was cruel and unfair but to you there had only ever been one younger brother, and you had no idea where he was now. Sabo was your one and only brother, not merely because you shared the same blood but because the bond between the two of you was one Sterry could never hope to have with you.

The latest report concerning the Revolutionary Army stated that one of the Blackbeard Pirates' senior officers had discovered the location of their headquarters. However, by the time a full-scale assault was launched, every member of the organization had already vanished without a trace. It was as though the entire Revolutionary Army had disappeared from the face of the earth, and that was exactly what they had intended.

Another voice called out to you from the other side of the sitting room. "Sister-in-law, Father said you're taking us horseback riding."

You looked up to find Sarie staring at you with the lifeless expression of a porcelain doll, fluttering her long eyelashes. She was Sterry's wife, the former princess-now-a-queen whose status had made it possible for that boy to become the king of a country. Sarie carried herself with remarkable grace and spoke with gentle refinement, yet beneath that elegant exterior lay an arrogance that rivaled her husband's. She conducted herself as though the world itself existed to grant her special treatment.

The couple had stopped by the residence your parents were renting during the grand gathering of rulers from nations affiliated with the World Government. You were not entirely sure how the Reverie's schedule worked. Perhaps the lengthy meetings were on a short break, or perhaps the two of them had simply decided to skip them like children playing truant from school.

You had never agreed to take them sightseeing but Outlook insisted that you spend time with the married couple. Perhaps he believed that being together would bring all of you closer and somehow turn this fractured relationship into a harmonious family. Unfortunately the idea was nothing but a nuisance. Both of them carried themselves with such overwhelming arrogance that it seemed they had never once set foot on the ground.

"Let me change my clothes first." You folded the newspaper in your hands and set it on the table before rose from your chair.

The three of you had been riding through the city for nearly an hour. In truth, it should have been an enjoyable outing. The cool breeze drifting between rows of magnificent stone buildings and the lively streets filled with people coming and going should have made the journey pleasant enough. Instead, every passing minute seemed to stretch endlessly, as though the ride would never come to an end.

You would have enjoyed it if you had been riding in secret instead... like the very first time you met Doflamingo.

Ah, forget about that man whose mask had finally fallen away.

Sterry had insisted on riding beside you, which only made you want this excursion to end even sooner. As for Sarie, she was not even riding her own horse. She sat gracefully behind her husband, her arms wrapped around him like a newlywed enjoying a honeymoon. Keeping your gaze fixed straight ahead you silently counted down what remained of your patience resisting the urge to tell them to get a room instead of flaunting their affection in front of you.

This time you were not wearing your usual blouse and trousers but a riding habit designed for noblewomen complete with a long flowing skirt. You had never been particularly fond of wearing these kind of dresses while riding. They restricted the freedom of movement you were accustomed to and valued. From a distance, the dark purple skirt billowed with every stride of your horse resembling gentle waves rolling across the ground.

Each step of the horse sent the heavy layers of fabric swaying around your legs, serving as yet another reminder that, for women, appearance was often considered more important than comfort. If a strong gust of wind were to catch the dark purple skirt, it would be all too easy for it to expose more of you than propriety allowed.

Perched elegantly atop your head was a small riding hat in the same shade of purple. Its understated decoration lent it an aristocratic charm without appearing overly extravagant. Your hair had been neatly arranged and carefully pinned in place to keep it tidy throughout the ride. A pair of dark gloves covered your hands, improving your grip on the reins while protecting your skin from the constant friction.

The Reverie had now entered its fourth day. The once-seasonal gathering had transformed the heart of the city into an even livelier place than usual, crowded with kings, queens, and members of royal families from every corner of the world. Although the main proceedings were held within the majestic Pangaea Castle, a fortress that seemed as though it could stand for eternity, many of its distinguished guests often sought a breath of fresh air by taking leisurely walks or riding through the city, just as you were doing now alongside the King and Queen of Goa.

Sterry guided his chestnut Arabian horse with a level of skill that genuinely surprised you. In the middle of the ride, he suddenly exclaimed, "I had the opportunity to take the oath before the Empty Throne yesterday."

"Oh, really?" you replied without even looking at the King of Goa. "What was it like?"

"I could not really tell," he admitted. "But the moment I looked at the Empty Throne... something inside me urged me to sit upon it, to sit at the very center of the world."

Your adopted brother had just confessed to a desire that should never have crossed anyone's mind. His words made you pull sharply on the reins bringing your horse to an abrupt halt as you struggled to process what you had just heard.

"Have you lost your mind?" you demanded. "The throne was left empty for a reason. No one is ever meant to sit on it."

Your sudden stop forced Sterry to rein in his own horse as well. Yet instead of showing the slightest concern, he casually declared that he wanted to become the King of the World and stand at the very top of the world's hierarchy.

The idea of a King of the World was terrifying. It would mean placing the fate of every living soul into the hands of a single absolute authority. That was precisely why no one person was ever meant to rule over all others. No one could truly comprehend how dangerous ambition became once someone started believing they deserved to stand above the entire world.

"Oh, come on," he muttered with an easy shrug. "It is not that big of a deal." He spoke as though he had not confessed his desire to become the ruler of the entire world only moments earlier.

All you could do was let out a weary sigh and silently pray that you would not end up caught in trouble because of your adopted brother's thoughtless remarks. Trying to explain just how dangerous and consequential such an ambition would be if it ever became public knowledge sounded utterly exhausting. In the end, you chose to remain silent refusing to entertain the conversation any further.

The brief exchange was interrupted when Sarie's attention drifted toward the rows of elegant shops lining the street. Her eyes were instantly captivated by the dazzling display of luxury. Fashion boutiques, jewelry stores, accessory shops, and countless other elegant storefronts stretched before her, a paradise for any woman with a taste for fine things. The queen announced that she wanted to go shopping and add a few more pieces to her ever-growing wardrobe, and as expected Sterry could never bring himself to refuse his wife.

Sarie invited you to join them suggesting that the two of you could browse together, exchange opinions on fashion and perhaps even share a few beauty tips. You declined politely explaining that you had no particular need for new dresses or jewelry at the moment.

With that the two of them wandered off together eager to buy everything that caught their eyes. At last you had some time to yourself without having to suppress your nausea at the sight of them openly doting on each other in public.

Raven took the opportunity to stroll toward a nearby fountain. The Friesian stallion seemed just as tempted by the gentle sound of flowing water, unable to ignore his growing thirst. He took a few measured steps closer before lowering his head intending to take a drink.

"Whoa, easy buddy," you said, giving the reins a gentle tug. "I do not think you should be drinking from there."

Ignoring your protest Raven continued drinking without pause. With a quiet sigh, you swung yourself down from the saddle so he could quench his thirst more comfortably. While your horse drank his fill you settled on the edge of the fountain.

Crystal-clear water flowed endlessly from the carved stone centerpiece, its gentle murmur easing a little of the exhaustion left behind by what had felt like an endlessly long ride. Resting both hands on the fountain's edge, you allowed your gaze to wander across the bustling town square. The weather was unusually mild. Thick clouds shielded the city from the harsh sunlight while not even the slightest breeze stirred the air, leaving the atmosphere strangely dry.

The unusual weather for this time of year kept you from noticing the hooded figure seated only a short distance away. Clad in an ivory-white cloak that concealed their face, the stranger quietly took a place on the edge of the fountain beside you. While they observed your every movement in silence, completely unnoticed by you, your attention remained fixed on the lively square before you.

Horse-drawn carriages rumbled across the cobblestone streets, their wheels turning rapidly as though their passengers were racing against time. Servants hurried past carrying wooden crates and rolled-up documents. On the opposite side of the street, nobles wandered at an unhurried pace, dressed in their finest attire. They exchanged soft laughter and lighthearted conversation as if there were not a single concern in the world worthy of disturbing their peace.

Yet another sight unfolded before your eyes, one so cruel that merely witnessing it made your stomach churn. Who else could it be but the Celestial Dragons? They treated their slaves with utter contempt, yanking violently on the chains that bound them, reducing human beings to something that even animals did not deserve to become. One particularly despicable noble mercilessly lashed his servant with a whip in broad daylight, inflicting pain and humiliation under the guise of discipline.

The heart of the city laid bare a striking contrast between luxury and oppression. Your heart could scarcely endure such cruelty, yet you lacked the power to change the very system that allowed it to exist. Unable to bear the sight any longer, you turned your face away, refusing to watch the merciless acts of those who believed themselves to be gods.

"You have become one of them, Sister."

The voice came out of nowhere like a quiet whisper reminding you of your sins and failures.

Your eyes widened at the unfamiliar address. For a split second, you questioned whether you had heard it correctly, your body stiffening as you instinctively rose to your feet. You turned from side to side searching for the source of the voice, but there was no one who seemed even remotely suspicious. Everyone was occupied with their own affairs. No one appeared interested enough to speak to you.

You tried to recall the voice instead, It belonged to a young man.There was a strange calmness in it, as though its owner was neither angry nor mocking you. He had simply... stated a fact. And that single word ‘Sister’ made your chest tighten. There were only two people who had ever called you that. And of the two only one came to mind.

Sabo.

Your little brother who had disappeared years ago and had recently shaken the world by becoming one of the leading figures of the Revolutionary Army.

Was he here?

Was he watching you quietly condemning you for growing too comfortable surrounded by luxury?

But if that were true...What was he doing in Mary Geoise?

And where was your little brother now?

You blinked several times and drew a slow breath, but the unease had already settled in without invitation. It clouded your thoughts, making it difficult to think clearly. Before you realized it, you had frozen in place. Though you remained standing your legs felt weak as if gravity itself refused to keep you grounded refused to acknowledge you, because you now belonged to the celestial far above the earth and forever beyond anyone's reach.

And that was exactly what you feared.

You feared the day you would look into a mirror and no longer be able to tell yourself apart from the very people you had always despised. The kind who believed the ground beneath their feet was too lowly to touch. The kind who called other human beings inferior creatures and treated them as nothing more than property. Who else could they be but the Celestial Dragons, those who fancied themselves gods?

Those words did more than strike you, they sent an icy chill crawling down your spine. They were not merely an accusation. They felt almost like a label that had been placed upon you. Was it true? Had coming here and living among them slowly eroded your humanity?

No.

You rejected the thought almost immediately.

You still possessed the same heart and humanity you always had. If you had truly become one of them, the scene you had witnessed moments ago would not have disturbed you in the slightest. You would not have felt compelled to look away because you could no longer bear to watch. The truth was far more painful because you simply lacked the strength and the courage to do anything about it.

With a quiet sigh you lowered yourself back onto the marble edge of the fountain replaying every decision you had made since arriving here. Coming to Mary Geoise had indeed been a mistake, just as you had declared to Shamrock that day. You should never have allowed yourself to grow comfortable in this place. But even if you were powerless, what could you possibly do?

You couldn't have been lost in your thoughts for very long, yet by the time you looked up, the sun had already begun its slow descent toward the west, marking the end of midday. Its light remained bright and steady, not yet softened into the golden hues of evening, while a thin veil of clouds continued to shield the city from its full intensity.

Beside you Raven remained faithfully at your side. Though left untethered, the Friesian showed no intention of wandering off standing quietly as if he understood you needed the silence.

Your thoughts were abruptly shattered by the sound of panicked screams. People were shouting and running. Chaos had erupted.

The soothing murmur of the fountain that had accompanied your thoughts only moments before was swallowed whole by the deafening uproar spilling in from the main avenue. Everyone fled in blind panic, scattering in every direction like a swarm of disturbed insects. It made no difference whether they were Celestial Dragons, nobles, servants, or slaves.

They all ran, some stumbled to the ground in their desperation only to be trampled beneath the stampede of terrified feet. The earth beneath you suddenly trembled as thousands of people surged through the streets creating what felt like a small earthquake atop the Red Line.

Then came the explosions.

The thunderous blasts echoed from somewhere in the distance, sounding unmistakably like heavy artillery being fired. Thick black smoke rose into the sky from the direction of the detonations, billowing upward in massive columns born from fire and cannon smoke. One explosion followed another until they became far too numerous to count.

You had no idea what had happened to transform the peaceful atmosphere into complete pandemonium. Perhaps the Reverie had fallen into an unforeseen state of anarchy. But you were nowhere near Pangaea Castle where the conference was being held. Even Raven who had remained calm until now sensed that something was terribly wrong. The stallion tossed his head and let out a restless whinny urging you to act.

"What on earth is happening?" you murmured to yourself, knowing full well no answer would come.

There was no time to wonder because every second wasted could mean the difference between life and death. You quickly swung yourself back into the saddle, determined to leave before the chaos spread any farther. Yet your first instinct was not to flee, It was to find Sterry and Sarie. No matter how little affection you had for them, they were still your brother and your sister-in-law and finding them was the right thing to do..

You pulled on the reins turning Raven toward the main avenue where you had last seen them. The stallion skillfully wove through the panicked crowds. You could only hope no one would be hurt by his powerful stride as people scattered in every direction.

You searched every row of shops, calling out Sterry's and Sarie's names again and again, but no answer came. Perhaps your voice was swallowed by the thunder of explosions and the screams echoing through the streets. Or perhaps they had already fled abandoning the area in a desperate attempt to save themselves. The lack of any sign of them only deepened your panic. But panic would accomplish nothing.

Drawing a slow, steady breath, you forced yourself to remain calm as Raven carried you farther down the streets. Your eyes darted from one side to the other, taking in the frantic scene unfolding around you. People were running or riding on horseback in the opposite direction as though you alone were traveling the wrong way heading toward the very danger everyone else was desperately trying to escape.

And they were right.

The farther you rode, the thicker the smoke became, dark clouds billowing upward as the source of the fires drew ever closer. Then came the sharp crack of gunfire. The sound rang through your ears making you flinch. As if that were not enough you noticed that the walls of several buildings had been defaced with hastily painted graffiti. A single word had been scrawled across the stone in bold and unmistakable letters.

REVOLUTION.

Now you understand. This isn't a random riot or an ordinary act of crime. It is a declaration, a direct challenge to the system that rules this place. And one group has chosen to fight back. Reverie has been thrown into unprecedented chaos, and this uprising marks the beginning of a great change.

"Miss."

A woman's voice called out to you. You thought she was addressing you, yet the voice came from the sky, which was anything but ordinary. You gently pulled on your horse's reins, bringing Raven to a halt, then looked up to confirm what you had heard. High above, a female knight was riding what looked like a giant bird made entirely of bandages—an utterly bizarre sight.

The short-haired knight guided her bandage bird into a shallow dive until it hovered at roughly the same altitude as you. As she drew closer, you noticed that her eyes were heterochromatic. Her right eye was a brilliant blue, as radiant as the sea beneath the midday sun, while her left eye burned a deep crimson resembling glowing embers stirred by the wind. The striking contrast between them made her appearance even more captivating.

She studied you from head to toe as she spoke, her gaze even sweeping over Raven. "Why are you heading toward the center of the disturbance instead of evacuating?"

You blinked several times, trying to gather the right words despite the anxiety gnawing at your mind. "I am looking for my brother and his wife." Your voice came out slightly louder than you had intended, as though trying to rise above the surrounding clamor.

"What is really happening?" you asked, voicing the question that had been weighing on your mind.

"The Revolutionary Army has launched an assault on Mary Geoise and declared war on the World Government," she replied, her voice calm and unwavering. "The Admirals are dealing with them as we speak."

So your suspicions had been correct. The Revolutionaries had shaken the Red Line, the colossal continent that stood firm as it encircled the world. In the distance, you could see the white flag bearing the blue emblem of the World Government engulfed in flames atop one of the towering spires. Flocks of birds scattered across the sky while thick columns of smoke billowed upward, fleeing the chaos on instinct, driven by nothing more than the will to survive.

The heterochromatic girl continued, "Head south. It is safer there. Everyone is evacuating, and you should do the same."

You had little choice but to follow her instructions. There was no point in charging into the heart of the battlefield when you couldn't even defend yourself if the worst were to happen. Besides if your brother and his wife had been evacuated successfully they were most likely heading south as well.

You gave a small nod. "I understand."

Without wasting another moment, you turned your Friesian horse around and urged Raven into a gallop in the opposite direction. The rhythmic pounding of Raven's hooves against the ground rang out more clearly now that the explosions and the clamor of battle had faded into the distance.

You glanced back over your shoulder hoping to catch another glimpse of the knight who had approached you, but she was already gone. Perhaps she had taken to the skies once more on her strange winged mount.

This incident would change countless lives, including yours.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

Your body trembled as the air in the room seeped into your bones. This was not the kind of cold that could be chased away with a roaring fireplace or a cup of hot chocolate. It was damp, suffocating, and deeply unpleasant. The concrete walls surrounding you seemed to have trapped the chill for years, only to reflect it back without mercy.

The interrogation room had been designed to strip away any sense of safety or comfort, replacing it with lingering psychological torment. Anyone confined within these walls would eventually break, confessing to every crime they had committed. Even the innocent would rather admit to accusations they had never committed than endure another moment in this room.

Your wrists were shackled to a steel table as cold as the room itself. The iron handcuffs bit mercilessly into your skin, leaving behind a constant ache that reminded you you were not here of your own free will. You shifted in your seat searching for a more comfortable position, but the soft rattle of the chains immediately crushed that hope.

The wrists that had once been adorned with elegant dance cards and bracelets crafted from gold and silver were now bound by rough iron cuffs that sent icy sensations coursing through your veins. You felt less like a noblewoman and more like a dangerous criminal awaiting judgment. Your single braid had fallen into disarray  and you wore nothing but your nightgown covered by a thin robe having been dragged here in the middle of the night.

You had no idea how long you had been here. Minutes and hours had blurred together, stripped of all meaning inside this windowless room. At the very least, however, more than half a day had passed since your arrest.

You were not the only one taken into custody. Outlook, Didit, Sterry, and Sarie had all been arrested under the same charges. You had no idea where they were now, but you assumed they were being interrogated in separate rooms.

You still did not fully understand why your family had been arrested without warning.

"Once again, I will ask you the same question." His voice was calm, but edged with impatience. "What is your relationship with the second-in-command of the Revolutionary Army?"

Sitting across from you was a tall man with ginger hair whose age was difficult to determine. He leaned back lazily in his chair resting both boots on the steel table where your shackled hands lay helplessly. The gesture was deliberately disrespectful as though reminding you of exactly where you stood. Saint Shepherd Sommers had been interrogating you for what felt like hours. He kept asking the same question over and over, as if repeating it enough times would somehow force a different answer from your lips.

"I already told you," you replied, your voice hoarse from thirst. Not a single drop of water had passed your lips since your arrest. You had long since lost your appetite but the thirst was impossible to ignore. "I did not even know Sabo was still alive until the news of the Dressrosa incident."

"And you expect me to believe that?" His voice dripped with mockery and disdain. "What kind of family does not even know where one of its own is, let alone that he is become a revolutionary?"

His words felt like a jab at your family's fractured relationships. Although you cared little for the opinions of others, there was still something painful about hearing it spoken aloud.

As if that were not enough, Sommers continued. "You infiltrated the Holy Land under the pretense of attending the marriage market, then passed valuable intelligence to the Revolutionary Army."

"That is not true," you answered firmly. It was the truth, and you refused to let him twist it into anything else.

"Then explain this." Sommers leaned forward slightly. "When the Revolutionary Army attacked Mary Geoise, why did Gunko catch you heading straight toward the chaos? Unless....you were one of them."

The accusation struck you like a splash of boiling water to the face. "'Looking for your brother, you said? You mean Sabo-the Revolutionary?." A faint  mocking smile tugged at his lips.

"I was talking about my adoptive younger brother, Sterry," you answered without hesitation. "And I also said I was looking for his wife." Back then, your innocent explanation had seemed harmless. You had never imagined it would come back to haunt you like this.

There was nothing you could do except remain seated in the cold steel chair and endure it. Their accusations were built on little more than speculation. Just because one person had in their eyes committed an unforgivable offense did not mean that everyone connected to them was guilty as well.

You let out a slow breath forcing yourself to stay calm. You had lost count of how many times this conversation had repeated itself. The same questions. The same answers. It was as though they believed exhaustion, thirst, and the relentless passage of time would eventually force you to tell them what they wanted to hear.

The problem was simple.

You were not lying.

Your gaze drifted to the large mirror on the wall to your right, its surface reflecting your exhausted figure. Only then did you realize how disheveled you had become since your imprisonment. Your braid had loosened, your clothes were wrinkled and fatigue was written plainly across your face.

But your appearance was the least of your concerns, all you wanted was to leave this place. You were certain it was a two-way mirror. Someone, or perhaps several people had to be standing behind it watching your every move without ever being seen. They observed every breath you took, every restless twitch of your shackled fingers, every fleeting hint of hesitation that crossed your face. Even your silence was probably being dissected for meaning. You tore your gaze away from the mirror and lowered your head.

As you had suspected Saint Figarland Shamrock was standing behind the two-way mirror, silently watching everything unfold without your knowledge.

He watched your interrogation with a piercing gaze, missing none of the details he deemed worth committing to memory. Standing silently with his arms folded across his chest, he allowed the interrogator to carry out his duty while he remained a quiet observer, evaluating every one of your responses with cold detachment.

Although the God Knight knew the true reason behind your arrest, he made no move to intervene, choosing instead to remain a silent witness.

His expression was as unreadable as ever—calm, composed, and utterly devoid of emotion. No one could discern what lay behind those impassive features, not even his own father. Standing beside him, Garling observed the interrogation just as intently. Neither man could tell whether Shamrock was beginning to believe your words or whether his suspicions had only deepened.

"That noble girl" the middle-aged man with crescent-shaped hair said, turning to his son. "After everything that has happened, what are you going to do with her?"

Shamrock did not answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the other side of the two-way mirror, watching your every movement without so much as a blink as though he were counting each breath you drew and every exhale that followed.

"If it turns out she is a member of the Revolutionary Army" Garling continued, casting a sidelong glance at his son, "or if she learned of the Great One's existence through her brother, then you already know what the Five Elders will do, don't you?"

"Once Sommers is finished, I will interrogate her myself," the red-haired man said flatly.

It was not an answer to the Supreme Commander's question.

Rather than commenting on your possible fate or the Elders' decision, he simply shifted the conversation to the next step he intended to take, leaving his father's question hanging in the air without acknowledgment.

Garling spoke again. "I am sure you have read that gossip column. And we both know that whatever is written there reflects the will of the Great One."

Not a flicker crossed Shamrock's face. No surprise, no hesitation. He accepted the statement as though it were a truth he had long since come to terms with.

He knew exactly who St. N.I. really was.

Behind that identity concealed beneath layers of mystery, only a select few knew the truth. Shamrock was one of them.

He understood that the gossip column the public dismissed as cheap entertainment was, in reality, something far more terrifying. Every sentence printed within it was not mere rumor. They were manifestations of the Supreme One's will. And more frightening still that will was almost never wrong.

Meanwhile, Sommers continued bombarding you with the same questions you had grown tired of answering. The relentless interrogation felt no less cruel than physical torture used to force confessions from the accused. But no matter how many times he asked, your answer remained the same. You were innocent and you were telling the truth.

"Is it not a rather strange coincidence?" he said. "The Revolutionary Army, which usually operates from the shadows, suddenly launches an open assault against the World Government during the Reverie at the exact time your entire family happens to be gathered in Mary Geoise."

"How would I know the answer to that?"

The man rose from his chair and strode toward you, a smug grin spreading across his face. Without asking for permission or offering so much as a warning, he reached out and hooked a finger beneath your chin forcing your lowered gaze to meet his.

"Listen carefully, woman." His voice dripped with contempt. "Just because Shamrock has shown a little interest in you does not mean you can escape the consequences."

Your jaw tightened. With a look of undisguised disgust, you jerked your head to the side wrenching your chin free from his grasp. The nerve of him to touch you as though you were nothing more than a puppet instead of a human being. He acted with such arrogance because his position gave him the power to do so.

Although your breathing still trembled and the bitter cold continued to seep into your body, you met his gaze with unwavering eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you truly broken. "This has nothing to do with him."

From the other side of the two-way mirror, the Commander had seen and heard everything with perfect clarity. He had watched Sommers try to wear down your resolve, only to find you standing your ground, meeting the interrogator's gaze with open disdain. After this he would likely have a word with his subordinate. Sommers had gone too far especially the moment he dared to lay a finger on you.

Eventually, it seemed Sommers had run out of questions. Without another word he left the room not even bothering to write down your statement. The entire interrogation suddenly felt meaningless. That  you realized had been his intention all along. To crush your hope until surrender became your only option. Only after he had disappeared from sight did you finally allow yourself to lean back against the interrogation chair's icy backrest.

Unfortunately the brief moment of relief did not last. The door opened once again and Saint Figarland Shamrock stepped into the room. The instant he crossed the threshold, the familiar tension settled over you. It felt as though the temperature had dropped several more degrees making the already frigid room even more suffocating.

Every encounter with him left you with the same unsettling feeling. His gaze always made it seem as though he were dissecting you without a blade. He never needed to raise his voice or make threats. His mere presence was enough to fill the room with invisible pressure. And this time you were certain he intended to use that pressure to extract the answers he wanted.

Shamrock carried several files in his right hand. He placed them neatly on the table separating the two of you before taking the seat opposite yours. His back remained perfectly straight, both hands resting atop the stack of documents he had just set down. Slowly, his eyes lifted until they met yours. 

Your muscles stiffened instinctively. Whether you wanted to or not you found yourself sitting up straighter as well despite having only just managed to rest against the chair moments earlier.

Of all the God Knights why did it have to be him?

A guard clad in armor entered behind him, carrying a sandwich and a glass of water. He set them down on the table before silently leaving the room without a single word. You could not deny it, the glass of water sitting in front of you seemed almost to whisper your name tempting you to take even a single sip.

"Fifteen hours without food is something most people can endure. But without water..." Shamrock's firm voice broke the silence.

He gestured toward the meal, inviting you to eat and drink. You remained silent, instead you deliberately turned your head away until your eyes settled on a spider's web tucked into the corner of the ceiling.

"Or are you afraid we have poisoned it?" he continued. "I would not stoop that low."

There was no trace of mockery in his voice yet neither did it sound like reassurance. To be honest the thought had never crossed your mind. But the moment he mentioned it, the possibility of being poisoned by the World Government suddenly became disturbingly plausible.

You swallowed hard, not only to suppress your thirst but also to ease the raw discomfort in your throat, which felt as though shards of glass were lodged inside it. You hesitated first, should you accept it or refuse?

The crystal-clear water shimmered inside the glass exactly as it should, while the sandwich filled with meat and vegetables looked perfectly ordinary. Nothing about either of them seemed suspicious, and somehow that only made your hesitation worse. Your body pleaded for a single sip of water, while every instinct screamed at you to stay on your guard. Both choices felt equally wrong, even though the decision rested entirely with you. In the end you gave in and listened to your body.

Carefully, you lifted the glass and took a long drink, the cool water washing away the dryness in your throat. It was even more relieving than you had imagined, like discovering an oasis in the middle of a vast desert despite the freezing air that filled the room. The sandwich, however, remained untouched. Your appetite had disappeared the moment you were arrested.

Shamrock watched as you struggled to lift the glass with your wrists still bound together. The iron cuffs encircled them so tightly that the skin beneath had become raw and red. Hidden beneath his cloak he unconsciously brushed his thumb against the key resting in an inner pocket, reassuring himself that it was still there. The key to your freedom, but it was one he had no intention of using. Not yet at least.

His gaze settled on your exhausted face once more. Your lips were cracked from dehydration, your complexion had grown even paler and yet you still clung stubbornly to your dignity despite the miserable state you were in. Something within him recoiled at the sight of you like this. Something he could not explain. The thought surfaced so suddenly that the Commander dismissed it at once. Emotions were distractions nothing more than obstacles that clouded judgment.

"Shall we begin?"

At his words, you steeled yourself once again for the same questions you had answered countless times already. The very thought of repeating them made you sick. "Let us get this over with."

The red-haired man opened the file before him, turning one page after another with neat, measured movements. The soft rustle of paper became the only sound in the room. The documents most likely contained everything about you and your family. How ironic, every detail of your life had been condensed into a stack of papers transformed into evidence to be used against you.

Shamrock began his interrogation "The family of Baron Outlook III, You have a rather... unusual family." 

He flipped to another page. "The King of Goa Kingdom. The second-in-command of the Revolutionary Army. And then you."

You frowned then asked. "What are you implying? That I have not accomplished anything compared to my brothers?"

"I never said that." His ruby-red eyes remained fixed on the rows of words and numbers covering the documents before him. "Becoming a rebel is not an accomplishment."

"Listen," you said, your patience wearing thin. "You can ask me the same question a hundred more times, and my answer won't change. Twelve years ago the ship Sabo sailed on when he left home sank after it was bombarded by a Celestial Dragon. I saw it with my own eyes. I watched his ship burn before it slowly disappeared beneath the sea."

You recounted the memory from your own perspective explaining how vividly your brother's death had been etched into your mind. It was also the reason your hatred for the Celestial Dragons had taken root so deeply. Learning that Sabo had survived had changed nothing. Your hatred remained.

"So that is why you hate us?" he asked.

"That is only a small part of it, My Lord." Your answer came without the slightest trace of hesitation.

Silence settled between the two of you for a moment before Shamrock finally broke it.

"And since learning about what happened in Dressrosa, you have never had any contact with him?" he asked. "Or perhaps tried to find out where he was?"

Your mind immediately drifted back to that brief moment during the Reverie. Someone had called you sister, someone who had condemned you as one of those bastard Celestial Dragons. You were certain it had been Sabo and no one else. But did that count as contact? Should you tell Shamrock about that encounter?

"No."

You chose to deny it. The last thing you wanted was to make this interrogation even longer than it already was. If they learned that you had interacted with one of the Revolutionary Army's highest-ranking members they would never let the matter rest.

The Commander studied your face for the slightest hint of hesitation searching for even the smallest crack in your composure. His expression remained calm yet intensely attentive. He watched how your gaze held steady, how your shoulders rose and fell with each measured breath, and how your shackled fingers tensed ever so slightly before relaxing again.

"If that is the case then perhaps you can explain this." he said while pulling several neatly organized documents from the file

Before you even had the chance to lean forward and read them  he continued. "A copy of a bank statement from Line Bank. The ownership of this account is highly questionable."

He slid the papers across the table. His ruby eyes lifted to meet yours. "The account is registered under Sabo's name. But according to the transaction records the person who has been consistently depositing money into that account is you."

The room fell silent once more. Shamrock slowly slid the file across the table until it rested between the two of you, allowing you to see its contents. Inside was a meticulous record of dates, transaction amounts, and even security camera footage showing you making cash deposits. Every transaction had been carefully documented, backed by evidence you hadn't even known existed.

You fell silent for a moment, struggling to process the evidence laid out before your eyes while searching for the right words to explain just how complicated your situation truly was.

"How—"

"Were you involved in financing the Revolutionary Army?"

Before you could explain yourself  the accusation was hurled at you, striking like a knife. Your eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

"What? No! I was not-"

"The sums being deposited were far from insignificant," he interrupted again. "They are comparable to the average bounty of the Worst Generation. Perhaps it is a trivial amount compared to your father's fortune, but regardless of the total it is enough to establish your involvement with that organization."

"That money-"

"Besides where could you possibly have gotten that kind of money without lifting a finger to work?" The Commander cut you again, His sharp gaze remained fixed on you. 

"So? Are you finally going to tell me where your income came from?"

"How am I supposed to answer if you keep interrupting me?" 

For the first time since the interrogation had begun, your voice rose. It was not born solely from anger, but from the frustration that had been building since the very beginning. Every time you tried to explain yourself, another question cut you off before you could finish.

After interrupting you time and again Shamrock finally fell silent giving you the chance to answer his questions. Who would have thought that your attempt to secure financial independence would one day entangle you in something far more serious?

"Listen. Aristocratic women are not allowed to accumulate wealth under their own names. In the end every asset falls under the family's supervision. Even the money I earned myself was never truly mine."

"I used my late brother’s identity to open a bank account, one that would allow me to achieve financial independence. It has nothing to do with funding any revolutionary organization. Back then I did not even know he was still alive."

After listening carefully he pulled a pen from his pocket and jotted something down in a notebook. Perhaps he was recording your statement as part of verifying your innocence. "Even so that still does not answer my last question." he said without looking up to you.

"The gifts I received from prospective suitors from the time I was seventeen until now" you answered without hesitation. "Most of them were jewelry, gemstones, and precious metals of considerable value. I sold them."

The red-haired man paused in the middle of writing. His hand froze above the notebook page. The ink no longer flowed. The tip of the pen hovered only a few centimeters above the paper, as if its owner had suddenly lost the words he intended to write.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze from the notebook and looked at you with his crimson eyes. His expression remained unchanged, but this time there was an unusual pause before he finally spoke.

"Including the jewelry I gave you when I visited you?"

You did not need much time to understand what he meant.

"Yes."

The answer left your lips without hesitation, because to you, that jewelry had never carried any sentimental value. Just like the other gifts that came from your prospective suitors, it was nothing more than one of the many valuable items you eventually sold. The silence that followed lasted longer than it should have.

Shamrock's gaze remained fixed on you, while the pen in his hand continued to hover above the unfinished page. His face showed no change whatsoever still expressionless and composed and that was precisely what made you uneasy. Unconsciously questions began to form in your mind.

Had you accidentally offended him by selling the gift he gave you?

Did that item hold a far greater value in his eyes?

A family heirloom, perhaps?

Was he angry?

It was difficult to tell.

All you could do was watch as he released a quiet breath. Even though you tried to read his expression or the subtle movement of his jaw that might betray his emotions, you struggled to determine what was truly going through his mind. Either he was exceptionally skilled at suppressing his feelings or it genuinely did not bother him at all. Hopefully  it was the latter and fate was still on your side.

“I see" His response was brief.

Shamrock continued the interrogation with another question. "As Sommers stated, the Revolutionary Army's assault on the Holy Land coincided with the Reverie and the marriage season during which your entire family happened to be in Mary Geoise."

"And that is somehow our fault?" Your voice was flat, though the exhaustion had begun to seep into every word.

"It reinforces our suspicion that your family conspired with the revolutionary Sabo" he replied matter-of-factly.

"Simply because we are related by blood and happened to be in the same place when the attack occurred?" You answered while subtly adjusting your posture in the chair.

Instead of answering he countered with another question, his jaw tightening. "If you were in my position  would you simply ignore that chain of facts?"

"Facts?" You almost laughed, not because anything was amusing, but because you could not believe what you had just heard. A dry chuckle nearly escaped your lips before you swallowed it back. 

“Those are not facts. They are nothing more than utterly absurd accusations." You slowly shook your head and leaned back against the chair. The handcuffs around your wrists clinked softly with the movement, briefly breaking the silence.

Your gaze never wavered. "If that is your logic, then every king, queen, and noble who attended the Reverie should also be under suspicion. They were all in Mary Geoise when the Revolutionary Army attacked."

"Out of all of them your family remains our prime suspect."

Hearing the same accusation repeated over and over again was enough to make you nearly give up trying to reason with him. You were about to open your mouth to deny it once more but Shamrock continued before you had the chance.

"The consequences could be severe. The Elders are considering expelling your entire family from Mary Geoise."

You showed neither panic nor fear. In fact  you did not hesitate for a moment before responding to the prospect of your exile. After all you had never wanted to remain in this place. "Then I will return to the Goa Kingdom."

"But I do not want you to leave." The words slipped from his lips so quietly that they sounded like a whisper never meant to be heard.

As much as it startled you, that words seemed to startle Shamrock even more. Such unguarded honesty was unlike him. A brief awkward silence settled between you filling a void that should never have existed.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" You frowned in confusion unable to make sense of what he had just said.

Shamrock fell silent. His expression remained as calm as ever, yet beneath that composed exterior, his mind had gone completely blank. Those words were not something a commander should ever say to his prisoner nor were they something he had intended to say. All his life he had been accustomed to weighing every word before speaking.

This time  however, his mouth had moved a step ahead of his thoughts. "I should not have said something unrelated to the interrogation."

"So that was a personal statement?" You looked at him searchingly.

"Yes." The answer came without denial, without justification—just a single word. Somehow, that only made the room feel even quieter.

You had not expected him to admit it.

The commander and you remained seated in silence, facing one another from opposite sides of the table. The air inside the interrogation room felt increasingly suffocating despite the damp chill that clung to it. It was as though dozens of people were crowded inside, fighting over the last traces of oxygen, when in reality, only the two of you were there.

Your gaze eventually fell to your lap, your head lowering as though you could no longer bring yourself to meet the eyes burning with restrained longing. You could feel the intensity of that emotion ever since his confession. Perhaps it had been there from the very first time you met, but your hatred had blinded you to it.

"Why do not you want me to leave?" Now it was your turn to ask something personal. Your voice matched the quiet, almost whispered tone his confession had carried moments earlier.

Shamrock swiftly slipped back into the composed demeanor of a commander after allowing his personal feelings to surface in the middle of his duty. The abrupt change caught you slightly off guard. "Have you ever heard of the 'Native Hunting Competition'?"

You had never heard of it, but the name alone sounded cruel and inhuman. "That is monstrous. How could—"

"Once every three years, we select an island for an event exactly as its name suggests. And because the Goa Kingdom has strong ties to the Revolutionary Army it has become one of the leading candidates to host that festival"

Your eyes widened once again. For several long seconds, you could only stare at Shamrock unable to utter a single word. You searched desperately for any sign that he was toying with you yet you found none. His expression was rigid and utterly serious, nothing like the fleeting vulnerability that had accompanied his personal confession.

Horror slowly crept across your face, not because the threat was directed at you, but because it was aimed at everyone living in your homeland. Innocent people who knew nothing about the revolution would become its victims.

"On what grounds?" You struggled to defend your homeland.

"The leader and the second-in-command of the Revolutionary Army both come from there-"

Before Shamrock could finish you cut him off. "Just because of that? Once again, you are using a completely unreasonable justification."

"Rose, listen-" Once again his words were interrupted by you.

"You can not do that to the Goa Kingdom. Dawn Island is under Vice Admiral Garp's protection, and he would not stand by while someone threatens the peace of our homeland."

"The protection he provides only extends to pirate attacks. It would not be enough if the order comes from someone whose authority far surpasses his own." The commander explained patiently, doing his best not to lose his temper despite your stubborn refusal to accept his reasoning.

"So, was it your decision to hold the Native Hunting Competition on Dawn Island?"

At your question, the red-haired man answered without hesitation. "I do not possess that kind of authority."

"Then it was the Elders' decision?"

This time he gave no answer. He could not tell you that there was another existence, someone whose authority stood even above the Elders who had decided the fate of your homeland. Someone he served as a loyal soldier of the Holy Land, bound by an oath he could never break.

Turning his gaze away, Shamrock avoided looking at the confusion and ignorance written across your face. He was certain that if he looked at you for even a moment longer, pity would cloud his judgment until he could no longer remain impartial.

And as a commander he could not allow anything to interfere with his duty.

Especially not the woman who had occupied his thoughts day and night, and who now stood accused of an act of high treason.

"The reason you do not want me to return home is because you do not want me to become one of the victims of the massacre. Is that right?" You asked another questio  as though you were the one interrogating him instead of the other way around.

The man sitting across from you drew a quiet breath before finally giving a small nod. "That is right."

"I thought you despised me after what I did to you. After I unknowingly possesed you day and night." You frowned slightly unable to keep the trace of sarcasm from your voice. "If I left and gone, would not that make things easier for you?"

Shamrock mirrored your expression of confusion almost perfectly. "Who told you that?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but no sound came out, because you had no proper answer to his question. It had only been an assumption you had drawn on your own, not the whole truth. So you forced yourself to close your mouth again.

The truth was, not letting you leave was his way of caring for you- something he could not and was not used to, expressing aloud. From anyone else's perspective it all sounded selfish. Yet behind every action that felt so suffocating, there was always a fear he had never managed to voice. 

As though he already knew the fate written into the story between him and you, while yourself had no clue at all.

The young Figarland was truly never good with words. He never knew how to express concern without sounding commanding, or how to show care without seeming too intrusive. So all that remained were actions and those actions were often misunderstood.

"Listen, many innocent people will become victims. They do not even know anything, nor do they have any connection to the Revolutionary Army. Why should an entire population be punished just because one or two people you’ve labeled as criminals were born in the same land as them?" You went on trying to stand on the side of what was right even if the consequences would only harm you.

Meanwhile Shamrock listened carefully to your attempt at defense  like a judge recording every word spoken by a defense attorney. As though every decision rested in his hands when in reality it did not. 

"In other words, are you willing to do anything to save your kingdom and its people?" he asked you again.

"If there is something I can do, then I will consider it." There was a strong resolve in your voice, the determination to do what was right.

The commander wasted no time acting. Reaching inside his coat, he pulled out a sheet of paper folded neatly into thirds. You recognized it immediately. It was none other than a copy of the St. N.I. gossip newspaper- the publication whose every word seemed capable of swaying the entirety of Mary Geoise.

"Your favorite columnist has shared their thoughts on all of this." He handed the paper to you silently indicating that you should read it yourself. Of course your curiosity got the better of you.

With fingers that trembled ever so slightly, you accepted the newspaper. Your eyes immediately fell upon the column whose byline was so familiar to you, the pen name you searched for every time a new issue was published. The mysterious writer whose articles had an uncanny ability to peel away every layer of a person until nothing but the truth remained.

How had this enigmatic columnist described the scandal that had ensnared you?

How thoroughly had your reputation been ruined in the eyes of the public?

And how mercilessly had they judged you?

You wanted answers to every one of those questions as quickly as possible. There was no reason to waste time reading the other gossip columns. Your eyes raced across the page searching for the first paragraph that mentioned your name and the events of the Reverie.

To be honest, this author is far too stunned to speak (write).

This may very well be the biggest and most devastating scandal of the season.

A scandal involving treason, terrorism, and sweeping change carried out in the name of reform.

Because our very own diamond is suspected of having close ties to one of the Revolution's most prominent figures, a man determined to challenge the World Government.

Someone who had long been admired as the very embodiment of perfection.

A woman whose every step was praised, whose every smile inspired admiration, and whose every public appearance was believed to be beyond reproach.

Yet beneath that blinding brilliance...

There may have always been darkness.

By the time this edition reaches the hands of my dear readers, Miss Y/N will already be undergoing an official investigation to uncover the truth.

Is she a spy who infiltrated Mary Geoise through marriage season under the guise of a prospective bride?

Or merely an ordinary young woman who became entangled in something far beyond her control?

Which side does this lovely young lady truly stand on?

Ally or enemy?

One thing, however is certain.

The Goa Kingdom will never be the same again.

The Elders are currently considering designating it as the next site of the Native Hunting Festival, the three-yearly event held by the Celestial Dragons.

Their reasoning?

It is the birthplace of certain individuals who seek the destruction of the World Government.

Consider it a punishment.

For a land that gave rise to troubles it never should have.

The contents of this edition echoed almost exactly what Shamrock had already told you. So what was the point of reading it when you already knew everything it contained? You were just about to fold the newspaper shut and complain about wasting your time when the very next paragraph left you speechless.

Perhaps this author can offer you a way forward, Miss Rose.

After all my opinion may very well become part of the Elders' deliberations.

That is the weight my pen carries.

So if you are willing, read the following very carefully.

You already know that the bridge has collapsed, and the only path left to you is the stairs, if you understand what I mean.

In other words if you were to marry a man of high standing from an honorable family, the Elders would think twice before bringing ruin upon your homeland.

After all this is still the marriage season, my dear.

And that is the only solution this author can offer you.

Marry Saint Figarland Shamrock...

...and Dawn Island will be spared from becoming a second God Valley.

Now the fate of an entire kingdom rests in your hands.

And we shall all await your answer.

Especially the Commander.

"What in the world is this?" The words nearly came out as a curse.

All color had drained from your face leaving only a ghostly pallor behind. Your fingers trembled as they gripped the newspaper, as though the ink printed across its pages weighed far more than paper ever should. You even found yourself reading the passage twice, just to make sure your eyes were not deceiving you.

Your chest rose and fell as you struggled to steady a breath that had suddenly become painfully shallow. What kind of twisted game was this? How could your fate be turned into a wager and the destiny of an entire kingdom made into the price of that gamble?

You lifted your eyes toward the man sitting across from you searching for any hint of his reaction.Yet you found nothing, only the same composed calm that had become his defining expression that you despised. How could someone remain so calm when another person had just written his fate for him?

Note: Hello there, beautiful people 🖤 my bad habit is after i post the new chapter i will disappear for quite some time (sorry), but here i am. I really want to include Sabo on this story since the prolog but i don't really know the continuation of his role in the future, so i guess we will see how it goes. Thank you so much for your notes and support🖤

Taglist: @aish777 @firelilyofthevalley @skyswaaan @oatslove12 @lessie-oxj @mbostar @mfreedomstuff @usoppcookie @pookiei-bookie @julieisafreakforfanfiction @non-lo-soo @ashara-dawn @hyunjinspdf @cryptip0wer-blog @trouble-sistar @litmusflourin3 @romancedawn333 @byull06 @hikari-samaa @vvyeislazzy @hunbunbumdum @drewvgue @starrlo0ver @whitelmzp @elliescrolls

[art-by-wei]

Happy birthday Corazon 🫶🎂

[queen-of-andor]

New official art for Cora-san's birthday (which ofc features Law,too!):

[lalenrasch]

Happy birthday Cora san

[art-by-wei]

How I painted this 🎨✨

Sharing my little color & lighting process today, starting from a plain black canvas and building it up step by step, just a few color decisions at a time!

Swipe to see how it comes together 👉 🖤 Silhouette → 💙 Light → 💜 Shadow → ❤️ Warm blend → ⚫ Deep shadow → ✨ Final details

The colors I picked here (blue/purple base with a hint of warm red) are just what I personally love, feel free to try your own combo and make it yours!🙌

Little note: the reference for this one was an AI-generated image, used just for a lighting & color study.

Hope this was helpful or at least fun to look at~ let me know if you‘d like to see more breakdowns like this 🩵

[mewvore]

"we detected a mature post" yeah I'm in my 30s

[aobaco]

I could think about Corazon Lives AUs forever. Heart Pirates Corazon, Marine Corazon, or just Corazon and Law traveling the world together… I love them all.

[pangur-and-grim]

I told my little nephew that I'd wave at his airplane when it flew over my house today, and he very calmly and politely explained that it wouldn't be possible to see me due to the limitations of human vision. I said he just had to squint real hard, and he took a deep breath and went into the toddler version of "see, what you're not understanding–"

[pangur-and-grim]

[michaelnordeman]

Eurasian nuthatch/Sitta europaea/nötväcka. Värmland, Sweden (16 July 2020).

[kylebonallo]

by Kyle Bonallo (ig: @kylebonallo)

[catnoli]

sushi shark 🍣 this is a sticker reward for my silly mail members who sign up before august 1st!

[kittydealer]

u/uvcray