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@trulyunflowergettable
trulyunflowergettable: an independent, single-muse, very selective portrayal of oda eiichiro's character nico robin from one piece. will mostly be canon-based, with headcanons added sparingly. 18+; i refuse to interact with minors or personal accounts. this is strictly a roleplay account. pampered by vaan [they/them; 21+]
mutuals only. low activity. *carrd is a wip, please refer to carrd linked for rules.
est. 11.02.25
carrd ✿ blogroll: youcancallmepapi (main), totalacehole
The smirk on his lips faltered for a moment as he listened to Robin, followed shortly by a narrowing of his eyes. The slits of his pupils turned almost vertical, the whole of his eye almost all an inhuman hint of yellow.
A leash? A leash on Crocodile? The thought alone drew a low rumble in his chest, the mere mention of a loss of autonomy enough to draw something feral from the former Warlord. Not that Robin knew -perhaps she did? She had always been so terribly clever. Infernally so - but a collar had not latched itself around Crocodile's neck in over 30 years, and it never would again.
"Surely you are not implying my arrangement with the clown?"
That had been one of the reasons why Crocodile had despised that damned flyer when it had made its rounds in the Grand Line and beyond. His face, plastered underneath the unhinged visage of Buggy, when the entirety of Cross Guild had been his idea.
"I am no one's PET, Nico Robin."
A sleek eyebrow raised, her expression remained placid save for the ring surrounding hazel irises. Try as she might, it was a futile endeavor, for her eyelids naturally retracted before settling as her lips curved in glee, as if his defensiveness genuinely delighted her.
“Oh dear,” she murmured, voice like warm silk over cold steel as she brushed an errant strand of hair from her eyes. “Did I strike a nerve? How terribly rude of me.”
Hearing her actual name leave his lips had once unsettled her, but today? It was a sign of seeing the man in his element, akin to how, as a child, she had once withdrawn her palm from a vicious encounter when he instructed her to feed the bananawani.
“And here you are, so passionately insisting you’re no one’s pet…” She let the words settle sweetly. “How valiant. Even the bananawani never bothered pretending they weren’t collared; at least they’re honest about who feeds them.”
She paused, lips upturned with exquisite irony.
“Though I suppose that’s always been your specialty, Crocodile, convincing yourself you’re the one holding the leash, when it’s clearly wrapped around your own neck.”
Robin’s gaze drifted for a moment, thoughtful. “Alas, the man I had in mind certainly wasn’t the clown. No, I was thinking of someone far more suited to the task. Someone like... Mihawk.”
...it's so funny what dropping a class can do for a peace of mind.
after taking 3 summer classes and barely surviving as a person, not having to go anywhere but a café to do my last online class for the remainder of the summer really makes me wonder why i was so adamant on graduating in the summer.
now, if you'll excuse me, i've got some writing to do and a lemonade refresher that has my name on it.
"How could I not?" rumbled the reply.
"They are top of their food chain. Respectable beasts, but they do not exert more energy than they have need to. The prey comes to them and they evolved to be able to live for months without a single meal, if they need to. Built for survival. How could I not pay respects to such magnificent beasts?"
"They have no master. Endless patience. Absolute control. Of course I desire to make sure they remain healthy and capable for the years to come. An honor to see something of myself within them."
Robin let out a serene, nearly fond little laugh, covering her mouth with her hand as if his words genuinely amused her.
“My, how poetic,” she coolly stated, tawny hues sparkling with quiet mischief. “Comparing yourself to beasts that spend their lives lounging in an enclosure, waiting for someone to throw them their next meal.”
A subtle cant of her head, lips parted to deliver words dipped in poison as she bluntly added, “Even the banana-shaped growth on their heads is almost cute; it reminds me of that flashy golden hook of yours.”
Robin’s smirk never faltered, soft and almost tender, as she deliberately twisted the knife with effortless grace. “How fitting. You had a penchant for surrounding yourself with creatures that obey… never imagining you’d end up collared like one of them,” she murmured, voice like silk over steel.
“…I wonder if there’s a soul brave enough to fasten a leash on you.”
did i ever post……………….. southern accent robin
I’M A BOUQUET
strength to protect what matters
It's enrichment time in his enclosure.
“You know,” she said casually, tone warm and conversational, “you always did have a soft spot for those big, grumpy bananawani. Kept them well-fed, collared, and locked in enclosures… just like this one.”
She smiled sweetly.
“Funny how history repeats itself, isn’t it?”
first order of business: i'm gonna do all the shit.
inbox, drafts, unanswered threads, if i owe it, then you name it.
gonna go absolutely ham and answer 'em all within the next couple of days. then, if anyone's down, i might hit up some people.
I can’t get over how perfect Lera is as Robin 😭♥️
cereal's reply is almost done, but i think i'll take this time to switch blogs. after that, i'm all caught up here.
guess it's shanks time.
@waxgentleman The candlelit chamber in Baroque Works’ latest hideout smelled of melted wax and Mr. 3’s nervous sweat. Nico Robin sat cross-legged on a velvet cushion, a thick history tome open in her lap, but her eyes had long since drifted from the page to the scene unfolding across the room.
Mr. 3 stood stiffly before her, presenting a nearly-finished wax sculpture like a shield. The little “3” candle on his head flickered every time he swallowed. Hazel hues crinkled in amusement as she shifted, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips.
“...Mr. 3,” she said, voice honeyed and low, “did you really think that…thing…would impress Sir Crocodile?”
Miss All-Sunday rose and circled him slowly, the way a panther circles something small and edible. “Sadly to say, it still has the structural integrity of your backbone.”
"Already in danger," Zoro reminded her absently, contemplating. "That big ol' fuck you on Enies Lobby was pretty loud, if you remember." He turned his head, giving Robin a long look. They'd declared war on the world government pretty thoroughly that day for her sake, and the whole world was gunning for them now. Whether or not they could read some old rocks really wouldn't matter in the long run.
"Anyway, was just thinking that it's awful hard to make people stop knowing stuff once too many people know it is all. Hard to hide whatever they're hiding when the whole world can read it."
Sounded like a lot of work to read the things though.
"And nah, just do some jaw strengthening exercises or something." He'd never had an issue with his teeth while wielding the swords. Though, he wasn't exactly normal there so maybe not. "That's advanced anyway, you'd have to work up to that. Probably better to learn with one sword maybe."
Robin’s gaze lingered on Zoro’s profile for a moment longer. His words were blunt, as always, but they carried a weight that settled uncomfortably in her chest.
“...You’re not wrong,” she admitted, voice softer than the pages she’d been turning only minutes ago. “Once knowledge spreads, it becomes a hydra. Cut off one head, and two more sprout elsewhere. That’s precisely why Ohara terrified them so much.”
A bloom of pale fingers sprouted from the tabletop beside her teacup, delicately picking it up and bringing it to her lips so the real hands could remain folded in her lap. She took a sip, then tilted her head.
“Still, if we’re going to do this mad thing, let’s do it properly.” Her smile sharpened, just a fraction. “Imagine Spandam opening a newspaper to find the Marines’ own wanted posters translated into the very language they tried to erase.”
The thought clearly delighted her, melancholy receding behind her eyes like a tide.
“As for sword lessons,” she added, setting the cup down with a soft clink as another hand dissolved into petals, “one blade to start. Something light. A wakizashi, perhaps. I have no intention of shattering my jaw for style points just yet.” She paused, then gave him a sidelong glance that was almost playful. “Fair warning: I’ll sprout as many arms as I need to block if you go easy on me.”
She rose then, smoothing the dark fabric of her skirt, the motion graceful and unhurried.
“Very well. We’ll start tonight; your first glyph is ‘courage.’ Fitting, don’t you think?”
honestly, i'm not sure if i wanna add robin as a blogroll, mostly 'cause she's not as big of a priority as shanks and now ace.
a bit of a secret item in the vaan menu of muses.
...but if my moots enjoy interacting with her, that's great. she's one of my favorite muses in the fandom, so me deciding to bring her back was a pleasant surprise.
' surely if anyone could decipher the meaning behind those words, it would be you. ' and he means it. gaze flicking from form to text, he scans the wall only briefly before looking back at robin once more. feeling the corner of his mouth pull into a small, comforting smile, he regards her with fond admiration; it never ceases to amaze him, just how educated she was and at times, that knowledge alone would leave him feeling blown away.
reaching into his breast pocket for a carton of cigarettes, it's only when he strikes up a light that he notices it. a small, equally unfamiliar marking in the corner of the stone, far from all the other symbols etched in their neat rows.
' hey — what's that? '
keeping his light ablaze, he holds out his arm. shifting the light to hover over the mark in question, curled brows press towards one another as his head tilts a fraction.
' this one almost looks like ... a drawing? but that can't be right, can it? '
Using the light from the lit cigarette, Robin crouched slightly as she examined the drawing that Sanji had noticed. Sure enough, there were a set of aquatic horses that appeared to resemble hippocamps. So, Poseidon was riding a chariot drawn by two hippocamps as he sped across the surface of the sea.
This merely served to confirm her suspicions of the ancient weapon being tied to the sea. Would there be a world that had ties to Poseidon?
"Poseidon was also referred to as Neptune," she slowly assessed, as lips curved upwards as she uttered a small gasp at the realization.
Where could it be referring to...? She didn't voice her opinion on the matter just yet, a careful exhale allowed her to lightly shrug as she simply voiced, "...It's not complete. In order to ascertain the location, we would need to find the corresponding poneglyph. I wonder if lady luck shall favor us once more."
Idly smoothing down her black dress of any dust, she blithely added, "Or would we meet a tragic watery end by instead being devoured by ferocious sea beasts?"
i notice anytime i write robin (or any female, really), my writing gets all flowery and i'm not fucking sure why.
@trulyunflowergettable —
' you think it might be connected to the one we saw earlier? '
it's impressive, thats for sure. the large slab of concrete has to be at least fifty feet wide and over a hundred feet tall - with an odd assortment of symbols he's never seen before. robin, on the other hand, seems deep in thought; her gaze scanning from left to right with a subtle crease to her perfectly manicured eyebrows so it must mean something.
The slab of concrete is cold to the touch, but behind its symmetrical arrangement of symbols, it reveals the history of the past. As the sole survivor of Ohara, Robin has gone to painstaking lengths in order to uncover the world's secrets through the poneglyphs. As much as they might appear akin to a mess of indiscernible gibberish to most mortals, to this particular archeologist, they meant more than words can describe. To the female who once possessed the moniker 'devil child,' they were the sole link to her people and the sacrifices that had been made in their earnest desire of uncovering the truth of the void century.
Long lashes remain affixed to the message, hazel hues nearly transfixed, lips parted as she wordlessly transcribed the meaning of this particular poneglyph:
Na enkret eretre.
'I have arrived here.'
The dark-haired woman appeared lost in thought as she wondered who would be daring enough to etch these words onto the ancient tablets, her gaze remained steady, ebony strands falling past her narrow shoulders as she bent slightly to peer at the message. It's not until she reads the entirety of the slab does she finally regard her fellow nakama.
"...Most certainly, these are connected to the one in Skypiea," she answered, her voice as refined and smooth as silk as she placed a manicured thumb under her chin as she pondered the text left by the now deceased pirate king. "It refers to one of the ancient weapons, Poseidon, as mentioned by the text–named after the sea god. The last part urges us to 'keep thy motives in heart, with closed mouth' and 'keep going forward'...would that be past the Grand Line?"
