@beastenraged re: this reply thread I was at one point talking with @oswaldthatendswald about benn beckman/shamrock as 'red string of fate' soulmates in the context of their Teen Roadtrip AU (Rosinante gets unwillingly brought back to Mary Geoise age ~16, a few months before the same thing happens to Shanks, and the origin of the Red-Haired Pirates ends up being a daring escape with a very willing Benn Beckman and a much less willing Shamrock) and i spitballed an outline for a scene that seeing this gave me the push to write up :)
While Shamrock had of course handled retrieving his soulmate himself, he had accepted Father’s offer to prepare a suitable room. Father was skilled and experienced, so of course Shamrock hadn’t expected the arrangements to be bad, but it was a minor relief to inspect the suite and confirm that everything was indeed ready.
“Bring him in,” he ordered the slaves. While it would have been most traditionally appropriate to carry his soulmate over the threshold himself, the bondola was some distance from the Figarland manor, and he did not yet have the benefits of a Deep Sea Covenant. And his soulmate, inconveniently, outmatched him in both height and weight. Perhaps Shamrock would have reached his final growth spurt by the time he obtained his next rooms, and could enact the ritual properly. His soulmate might even be awake for that.
The man being laid unconscious on the bed was certainly in no state to appreciate an introduction to his new life. Shamrock kept vigil beside him until he finally woke, the red thread of their shared soul hanging taut between them.
His breathing barely changed, but the flare of alertness was like a firework to Shamrock’s Observation haki. His eyes barely cracked open, taking in the sumptuous chamber with a look of confusion, finally settling on Shamrock like two bright gems. Shamrock considered himself pleased. Doubtless it was the first taste of true finery the human had ever had in his life, but here he was looking at Shamrock. As was right and proper.
“May I know your name?” Shamrock asked. The insects he’d found his soulmate surrounded by hadn’t even been able to give him that, dismissing him as ‘some foreign bounty hunter.’ He’d been waiting for this moment ever since.
“…Benn Beckman.” It suited him. Shamrock nodded, internalizing the syllables, writing them onto his heart. “Who are you? Where is this?”
“I am your soulmate, Saint Figarland Shamrock.” Beckman’s eyes grew wide at the title. Good. “You are in the Holy Land, Mary Geoise. My home. Your home now as well.”
Beckman covered his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“You can see our connection for yourself.” Father had warned Shamrock that his soulmate might be…unruly, upon discovering their new life, though he had never elaborated on why that might be.
“You’re a child. Can’t even grow a damn beard yet."
Shamrock was more stung by the words than he really ought to be. “I’ve completed every other rite to become a Knight of God. Retrieving you was my final task.”
Beckman sat up, squinting at him. “How old even are you?”
“Almost sixteen. Not that it matters—”
“You’re fifteen?” Beckman said some more words, ones Shamrock didn’t know. They didn’t sound happy.
"Not that it matters,” Shamrock repeated, imbuing the words with Conqueror’s haki to make his point. It brought his soulmate to silence, at least. “Because, as I said, retrieving you was my last task to rise to the rank of Devoted Blade. Even most among the ranks of the Celestial Dragons never attain such an honor.”
“You have to be a child bride for that?”
“Groom!” Shamrock could feel a furious blush creeping over his face. Could he not even tell—oh, he was smirking. That had been mockery. Shamrock pushed a little more Conqueror’s haki behind his next words. “A Knight of God must not lack any part of their soul, to be considered a Devoted Blade. It was required I retrieve you myself to prove my worth. I searched across the North Blue for you and raised you to the holy land beside me, to dwell with me in wedded bliss.”
Beckman looked at him the same way Father did when he had said something particularly naïve. It wasn’t Shamrock’s fault his soulmate had no sense of romance. Not when the man had spent their time together either fighting or unconscious. He’d just have to learn.
He didn’t interrupt again, so Shamrock continued. “This is a great honor. I’m lucky to have been given the chance to prove my worth and bring you here. I will be one of the youngest candidates to ever be made a knight. It wouldn’t have been possible without the support and training and approval of the current Commander of the God’s Knights.”
“Really.” Beckman didn’t sound impressed about it, but he sounded thoughtful. Was thoughtful a good sign? “Will I get to meet this Commander?”
“Very likely. He’s my father, Figarland Garling.”
Beckman screwed up his face. “Your father?”
“Yes.”
“Your father?”
“It’s not nepotism,” Shamrock insisted. “I haven’t been given anything unearned. I’ve simply had the benefit of knowing—”
“Your father thought it was a good idea to put you between some, some stranger and getting out of here? At fifteen?”
“I've trained my whole life to be a Knight of God. Defeating you won’t be a problem, if you choose to be—” Shamrock shouldn’t call his soulmate an idiot in their first conversation. “—stubborn.”
His soulmate pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not talking about a fight, kid.” His hand fell to the string that connected them, reaching out along the intangibility of it, following the course so surely and steadily that Shamrock shivered without meaning to. He shivered again when that big hand came to rest on his heart. “If I wanted to, I could sweet-talk you so nice. Tell you how special you are.” Shamrock’s heart fluttered under his hand, and it lifted away, Beckman’s fingers trailing up the side of his neck and lacing into his hair. He let it happen, breath suddenly caught in his throat, eyes fixed on how the man had turned to face him, all of his attention on Shamrock. “Tell you exactly how clever and mature you are.” Shamrock’s heart leaped again. He was seeing it, he understood—of course he understood, he was Shamrock’s soulmate—“Kiss and tell and convince you to let that guard of yours allllllllll the way down…” Beckman was leaning in, overwhelming Shamrock’s view of everything else, and he couldn’t breathe, leaning in to meet him—
The hand in his hair yanked, hard. Not like in the novels where a lover pulled another along, but painfully like he was a child wrestling with the children next door again. “Ow!”
The hand fell away before Shamrock could break it, could grab back, could punish him for daring to—“And then I’d break your heart or slit your throat and go right out the window. Idiot.” Beckman pulled away, rolling to sit up, facing away from him.
This—Shamrock was breathing hard now, jumping back up out of the chair, face furiously red. No wonder Father had warned him about this, if—“But you’re my soulmate.” His missing piece, the end of his loneliness, tied to him by fate. The finest tribute offered to the gods-on-earth. No one had ever said he was allowed to be mean.
“So? It still happens all the time.” Beckman still wasn’t looking at him. “And you’re my soulmate, but that didn’t stop you from kidnapping me.”
Shamrock would not lose his temper. He had been too well trained, he knew what was expected, he was just going to stand here and become calm and think of a suitable punishment—
“Bet it won’t stop you from having me whipped, or thrown in a dungeon, or whatever else you need to do to tell yourself you’re the boss here, either. And it sure as hell won’t make it worth it.”
Shamrock was—going to leave. And stand outside. Until he was calm again. Because any retaliation at this point would just prove this idiot right.
Shamrock had done what he needed to do. He had reclaimed his soul. Beckman wouldn’t be going anywhere. And he wouldn’t succeed in manipulating Shamrock into anything again, no matter what he tried.
reposting a thing that got nuked in Tumblr’s ban of my writing blog
“what are you doing?”
“folding shirts,” you say, because your mother raised an honest child once, standing there in front of the open door with a button-down in your hand because it wasn’t ready to be put down yet when the knock came.
“i can see that,” she says and she is annoyed but keeps asking anyways because she has accepted that you must be handled like a finicky lock and picked one question at a time. you are not sure whether you like that she has learned this, and keeps talking to you anyways. “why are you folding shirts?”
“packing,” you say, and turn around to get back to it because it isn’t like she’s going to go away.
“packing?” she says, and her voice has risen higher in distress. “you’re packing? are you leaving?”
“no,” you say, truthfully, and kneel on the floor to spread out the shirt, tug it straight, fold the arms over so it’s giving itself a hug, fold down from the top, fold in half, add it to the pile.
“why are you packing?” she has followed you, and you can hear the question directed at the open duffel bag in the corner but know that she’s asking you, who is capable of answering her.
you shrug. “it’s something to do.”
“i see.” she’s not happy with that answer. you can’t help that.
you used to play ‘moving’ when you were little, helping toys ‘pack-your-things-and-go,” stacking all the lego people and their hybrid construct ships in a box, pretending conversations between them as they got ready to fly to outer space or a hidden island or the middle of the prairie where no one else could ever find them. you used to imagine you were going with them.
now you can play it in real life, but it’s not like with the legos where their whole lives can go with them and no one’s left behind. every move leaves something behind, people who don’t understand why you left or where you went or anything else. people who think they’re entitled to.
“don’t you have better things to do?” she’s worried now, you think, not angry really. you think about saying ‘no,’ about having her sweep down and drag you out to start some minor adventure or eat a meal in public or take a job, to start something new or interesting that will form another tie like a spider’s thread to pull you into this place.
but you have more than you need whenever you care to go look for it, and packing is something that will quiet your shaking nerves enough that you might be able to lead the way to whatever tiny adventure awaits tonight, and after all. your mother raised an honest child, once.
hi. for agendaless reasons i am requesting the UY turtles bodice ripper followup
WIP ask game
i knew i'd posted SOMETHING about this before so i went and tracked down three year old post.
in the meantime. space turts, younger brothers getting into SO much trouble in the future of bodice ripper, leo vs hikiji anyone? (you know i love usagi because i am shoving him into nonconsensual concubinage to his worst enemy to watch him stoically endure suffering.)
When they came back in, it was all official, on the little ship they’d commandeered for this round of planet-hopping. They’d be posing as trade conglomerate barons here to solicit Hikiji’s permission to operate in his sector of space. Donnie had worked up a nice set of fake financials for them and set them in just the right place to be findable but not obvious bait. They didn’t have an appointment, but they had come at a time where Lord Hikiji was apparently open to hearing a business proposal from a couple of upstarts. He made them wait around in a fancy little room and Donnie got neurotic enough about not being able to break into any of the meteor systems while they were being watched that Leo and Mikey were just about ready to shove him back into the maintenance shafts and lock the hatch behind him, cover story be damned.
Finally—finally—the doors opened.
They were escorted into the big throne room Donnie had found on the cameras for them. It had gotten a makeover since the last time they’d seen it. Wooden columns rose around the sides between rice-paper screens and the floor looked as though it had been inlaid with an elaborate grained pattern. The textures were just slightly off enough that Leo realized it was all projections, images coming from some projectors embedded in the wall and overhead lighting nonexistent to preserve the effect.
The hall was otherwise empty. Leo found his attention drawn by a wall with a strange assortment of hanging items—a tapestry, a beaded map displaying constellations, a long and short sword with matching green hilts in a gilt frame, a set of crown jewels, a—skull. Not human but probably sapient. Eesh. Well, if they hadn’t known this guy was a tough customer, that would have confirmed it.
The dais rotated into the wall with a hiss and the side that spun out was the one with the fancy bench throne. Hikiji was already sitting on it and Leo shoved down any intimidation at what was admittedly a very classy entrance and focused instead on wondering if he got dizzy when that moved.
The rabbit alien whose name Leo still hadn’t gotten was lounging at his feet like one of those French girls. He flicked a glance over the turtles, displaying absolutely no reaction, and then looked at the wall like he couldn’t care less.
Leo really, really hoped this was a sign that he was a phenomenal actor and not that he actually thought they were going to leave him here like this.
The technioso who was known as ‘the Shadow Lord’ for his absolute total command of the hacking, whisper network, and information trade in this galaxy waved one hand. “You wanted my time. I’m sure you wouldn’t waste it with something unimportant.”
Leo stepped forward to begin his spiel, but before he could really get into it, the walls blurred around them and the projected screens slid back to reveal video footage from—oh, hey, throwback, that was when they fought their way out of the Triceraton Arena eight years ago.
Ah, shit, that was when they fought their way out of the Triceraton Arena eight years ago.
“So please. Let’s skip whatever pretty lies you’re about to tell me and get straight to why you’re actually here.” Another screen flicked up, showing what looked like the latest tabloid shot of Raph and Mona. “I thought your group was allied with the Salamandrians. What brings you to my…little domain?”
i've been reminded of my old 'Transformers No War AU, Lord High Protector Megatron mentors punk bodyguard Hot Rod' AU that I don't think I'll get around to ever actually writing in fic form, so please enjoy this bullet point outline:
standard setup of a no-war prime and protector au. megop married and gross about it especially because megatron spends most of his time in space beating up quints doing the liberation thing.
well, not personally beating up quints, that's the problem, he has bodyguards now who won't let him do things like 'beat the shit out of a 50 foot alien monster'
because it would be a 'political crisis' or something if he died. whatever. cowards. faithless cowards, every one of them. as if he'd get killed.
but over time he has finally managed to shoo off, scare away, bribe with better positions, or otherwise resort to shameless matchmaking to get rid of most of them and now deadlock, his last remaining bodyguard, is married off and bothering his husband about personal safety instead of megatron
so he sets off thinking it's going to be a great trip except there's a teenager by his chair on the bridge. there's a teenager making fun of him. the teenager has flames painted on him and he's calling megatron an old man. wait what--
what do you mean you're the new bodyguard. what kind of a name for a bodyguard is hot rod
so of course megatron calls optimus to complain, immediately, to go 'i KNOW you're up to something, WHAT is this, why do I have a child, you CANNOT trick me into this I WILL not fall for it' and optimus just goes 'please i can't tell you why yet i just need you to trust me that he has to go with you'
megatron, because he is whipped, goes '....fine'
Mentoring, Reluctantly, Ensues. neither party is happy about this.
(megatron at one point calls up deadlock to complain and deadlock goes 'oh yeah hot rod i wrote him a recommendation letter for the job :D')
blah blah plot happens they bond eventually they are in a tight spot and hot rod sets himself on fire to get them out of it
it takes a lot out of him and he's woozy and giggly and megatron has to carry him back to the ship and he goes 'you're a terrible bodyguard. i bet you've never even killed anybody'
hot rod, loopy: untrue! i killed zeta
megatron:
megatron: you fucking What.
turns out that back during the revolution, during one of those crazy months right after nyon got blown up (hot rod also killed all those people but he Doesn't want to think about that), when then-orion pax vanished for a while and came back with the matrix and was like 'yeah it's fine zeta's dead it's not important'. it was kind of important
sequence of events from op's perspective: when hot rod blew up nyon OP went 'oh my god you are a Youth' and took him under his wing to keep an eye on him and also to have someone else to do paperwork
op and hot rod both got kidnapped by zeta because it turns out that carrying the matrix means you can sense who else is a viable candidate for the matrix so zeta, now kind of insane, went off ranting about how orion was trying to build a dynasty to replace him and he and hot rod both went 'what the fuck are you talking about'
stuff happened. hot rod maybe burned him from alive to Very Dead and op retrieved the matrix and hot rod went 'i don't want anyone to know about this ever' and op went 'you know what that's fair you didn't sign up for this'
so OP has kept it on lockdown ever since and hot rod went off and joined the wreckers and jaunted around the galaxy for a bit and then wound up back on cybertron
and the priesthood took an interest in him. because there are Signs. and hot rod went from just a dude going to temple because he likes the music and has thoughts about theology and sometimes talks about it with OP to 'hm these sure are people in authority paying attention to me what a bad sign'
OP saw that hot rod needed to get off cybertron and decided to kill two birds with one stone
back on cybertron:
priesthood: where is...the young bearer....(translation: can we talk to the kid instead of you, he seems impressionable and like less of an asshole)
OP, an asshole : oh I sent him to go stay with the Lord Protector :) (translation: if you think you can get through megatron be my fucking guest)
megatron, after having dragged this story out of optimus over the long-distance call: i know you said no last time I suggested this, but I really think you should let me murder the priesthood
optimus: megatron they do all of the IT work
this story has no real ending which is the main reason it probably won't exist, but it amuses me very much to subject these idiots to each other, and i hope it will amuse some of you.
i absolutely love your fics in diverting nautical cardiography exploits!! they’re so much fun and give the hearts so much character—it’s awesome to see their dynamic together. :’)
i read both fics at least once a month and then run straight to the comments to read the haphazard prenuptial negotiation methods excerpt. (the title itself makes me cackle with glee!)
i’m looking forward to the day when the subscription notification reaches my inbox >:) thank you for DNCE and all of your other fic! 💛 they’re a real treat to read!
ahhhhhh thank you so much!!! this was really lovely to see. i really do love the hearts--fic 3 is coming slowly but it IS coming. have another excerpt as proof.
They sit there in peaceful silence for another few minutes, and eventually Jean Bart levers himself up and goes back to the hut to keep an eye on Law. If they end up relocating, he’ll need to be around to carry the captain, and for the moment, the presence of an unconscious patient should keep him from facing too many well-meaning reprimands.
Of course, with his luck being what it is, he manages to successfully dodge through the makeshift camp getting set up only to arrive by the door and hear a bleary and barely-awake Law saying “What the fuck do you mean, Jean Bart’s getting married off? Who let him do that?”
“Well, Cap,” Shachi drawls from next to the bed, pushing Law back down onto the blankets with a casual attitude that belies how tense he’s been since they were captured and escaped from Hachinosu, “You weren’t around, so someone else had to step up and be a self-sacrificing idiot in your place.”
Law, clearly not fully lucid yet, is looking from face to face and barely tracking the response. “He’s not married, he’s right here. Where’s Penguin? And Ikkaku? And—“
“On the ship, keeping an eye on Garp the Fist,” Uni says. Azarashi smacks him. “What? He was gonna find out eventually.”
“Oh,” Law says, sounding befuddled and exhausted. “I’m delirious. That’s fine.” His eyes slip closed just in time for Iruka to settle a cold compress on his forehead.
“Probably,” their head nurse agrees. “Get some more sleep.” He glares at the rest of them, especially Uni, and jerks one thumb towards the door in a clear signal to get out. Shachi stays, pulling rank as senior crew and least injured of those with the most experience making Trafalgar Law actually rest, so Jean Bart moves to help Uni get Bepo outside to the camp and convince him that he can let himself relax for the first time since the fight at Winner Island.
“You’ll have to face the music eventually,” Uni says, once they’ve all settled around the fire with bowls of soup. The backup cooks are on duty tonight; it’s not quite as good as Pudding’s. Perhaps having Jean Bart around will make Katakuri amenable to something like an exchange of hostages. He’ll mention it to Law for the negotiations.
“Might as well wait till he’s got the energy to yell at me properly,” Jean Bart says, and takes another drink of his soup. “How else are we supposed to have any fun around here?”
Iruka, collecting his own dinner, loudly says, “If he punctures his own stupid lung yelling I’m throwing you both into the ocean,” and Uni and Jean Bart snicker together and for a moment, it’s any one of a million moments together with the crew, and it’s good.
Chapters: 5/6
Fandom: One Piece (Anime & Manga)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Nami/Nefertari Vivi
Characters: Nefertari Vivi, Nami (One Piece), Carue (One Piece), Monkey D. Luffy, Usopp (One Piece), Sanji (One Piece), Roronoa Zoro, Toto (One Piece), Crocodile (One Piece)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Baroque Works (One Piece), Heist, Alternate Universe, Alabasta Arc
Summary:
Some things change during tragedy. The sky burns bright and blue, the desert dries, the dying become dead. The world knows what it has lost.
But the Ship of Dreams, the vessel of the laughing gods, flies overhead and on without so much as slowing down. The Weather Witch doesn’t bother to bestir herself.
That night is when Vivi makes her decision. If the gods won’t act, she will.
Nefertari Vivi will do anything to bring the rain back to her withering country. Work as a mercenary for two years. Blackmail an infamous cat burglar to help her steal from the gods. Face divine judgement in the desert. Try not to fall in love.
She doesn't quite manage the last one.
pspspspspspsps. penultimate chapter of this fic is up. oooooooo you wanna read about apotheosis so bad.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: One Piece (Anime & Manga)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Im/Monkey D. Dragon, Monkey D. Dragon & Mugiwara Kaizoku | Strawhat Pirates
Characters: Monkey D. Dragon, Im (One Piece), Usopp (One Piece), Sanji (One Piece), Trafalgar D. Water Law
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Elbaf (One Piece), Implied/Referenced Abuse, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Speculation, Imu is Monkey D. Luffy's parent
Summary:
Shortly after Vegapunk's death, news of Monkey D. Dragon's capture and execution was broadcast around the world.
Months later, half the Strawhat crew meets an unknown man carrying their captain--and a few other important burdens--from the rubble of a shattered Mary Geoise.
i’ve been really bad about cross-posting lately but hey, look, new Dragon torment nexus.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: One Piece (Anime & Manga)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Heart Pirates & Shachi, Penguin & Shachi (One Piece), Heart Pirates & Monkey D. Garp, Charlotte Pudding & Heart Pirates, Jean Bart & Shachi (One Piece)
Characters: Shachi (One Piece), Monkey D. Garp, Penguin (One Piece), Jean Bart (One Piece), Heart Pirates, Charlotte Pudding, Aokiji | Kuzan, Ikkaku (One Piece)
Additional Tags: Egghead Island Arc (One Piece) Spoilers, Post-Egghead Island (One Piece) Arc, Speculation, Nursing, Non-Graphic Medical Treatment, Aftermath of Violence, Hachinosu (One Piece), Crew as Family, One Piece Spoilers, Elbaf Arc Spoilers
Summary:
and other ways to stay alive when your captain's missing in action after your entire crew lost a fight
(the Heart Pirates stage a cooperative breakout from Blackbeard's prisons)
Garp stares at him, and then stares at Shachi, and Shachi can see when he spots the scrap from Shachi's boiler suit with the crew's jolly roger on it that he turned into an armband when he sacrificed the rest of his top for bandages. “You’re the Heart Pirates.”
“At your service,” Shachi says, only a little bit sarcastically. “Answer the question.”
