#i really miss how dark AC got in the older games... now everything is capitalism in the new ones :V

[thereluctantfollower]

Murderous Bunnies are my type

Murderous anything can be my type too, and I don't mean in a romantic sense. I meant in a sense I want THAT to be my friend, so I can make them worse. ✨

Robbie Rabbit, Mr Hopps, Donnie Darko, Springtrap, Most of the Bonnies, Lucky, Vanny, White Rabbit. Now we got new recruits! Bunzo Bunny! Not sure if the other bunny is murderous. The green cute one.

I'm just gonna collect them all like pokemans 💜

[midnightluck]

Ok if your feeling up to it or want to. How about Older Ace somehow ends up with ten or seven year old Sabo. Like he got a wish or something and his mind automatically went to Sabo or something like that. More feels if he still thinks his Sabo is dead. But what would their interaction be? How would the WB react to this little kid that Ace might have a little cried over?

hello i overthink things and also i’m sorry it took so long and listen, okay, I’m leaning real heavy here on One Piece physics so if it doesn’t seem possible just–idk, sorry

–

“Hey, you okay?” Ace asks, hitting his knees and sliding a few inches. “Are you hurt?”

The little kid looks up at him with big teary eyes and sniffs. Then she throws herself directly at Ace’s chest and he catches her on instinct.

“Hey, now, little lady, you’re safe now,” he tells her, scooping her up and standing. She’s so tiny, and so light. Probably not even ten yet, and her dress is torn and dirty. He runs his free hand down her tiny back and keeps babbling. “Hey, miss, it’s over now. Don’t you worry ‘bout anything, okay? I gotcha.”

He heads back up to the deck, keeping an eye out. The Whitebeards do good work, though, and all the enemies are down. Luckily the girl keeps her head tucked into his shoulder, and he’ll take snot and tears over her seeing the carnage any day.

When they hit the deck, Vista looks up and sees Ace and the girl and blanches. “Nope,” he says, and backs away. “Nope, no, that’s on you.” And he flees, because he’s a coward who is scared of children.

That’s fine, though; one of her hands is twisted in his hat string and he probably couldn’t set her down even if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t, of course; she’s only just now stopped shaking. “You’re so brave,” he tells her hair, and even if it’s only a distraction, it’s enough. “Don’t you worry, pretty lady, you’ll be home safe in no time.”

She hiccups and nods against him. He wraps his free arm around her and leans back to look at her face. “Hey, darling,” he says, and gives her a smile. “You wanna do something cool?” She just looks at him, so he adds, “We’re gonna fly a bit, okay?”

Her face lights up, and he tells her to put both arms around his neck and hold on tight. The gap between the ships isn’t that big, but the Moby Dick is much taller. He takes a few running steps, uses the railing as a launch point, and jumps for it.

She squeals with glee and he’s careful on the touchdown, bending deep at the knees to make it smooth. It’s worth it because she’s laughing, and her voice is high and clear. “You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” he asks, stepping down from the railing to the deck. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

She gives him a shy look and then boots him in the solar plexus. He wheezes and folds over a bit but doesn’t quite drop her. “Ow,” he says, and the little hellion giggles at him, then raises her foot again, managing to miss him this time.

There’s a bracelet on her ankle–no, a shackle, and he still can’t breathe but now it’s out of anger. She shrinks from him, cringing in his arms, and he fixes his face immediately. “That’s no bracelet for a pretty girl like you,” he gets out, and touches it with a finger of fire.

It’s not even seastone because his fire melts right through it; she doesn’t even flinch from the heat, and he stops to let it cool then pries it off entirely. “Anything else?” he asks, and when she wiggles he sets her down.

She’s barefoot on the deck, in her torn dress and dirty hair, but when she looks up and says, “Mama,” it sounds like bells and psalms.

He kneels down and offers her a hand. “We’ll find her,” he promises.

She shakes her head. “Mama,” she says again, and points behind him.

Ace glances back, then startles so hard he almost falls over. There’s suddenly someone there, and she might be a woman because that’s the only word that’s even remotely close. She’s ephemeral and grace incarnate, and he knows she is beautiful but he could never describe why.

His first instinct has him between this new person and the little girl, but then he remembers the way she said mama. And then he thinks of the way the little girl laughed and the metal shackle, and he looks at the newcomer and stands up straight.

“Lady,” he starts, and keeps his shoulders back and his hands off the girl. “Might she be yours?”

The Lady looks at him, then reaches out a hand towards the girl. “She might be,” she agrees, and oh, hell, word games? There goes any chance of this ending well.

Makino would tell them stories, sometimes, if they hung around long enough. Luffy liked the adventures and the tales of the seas, but Sabo’d liked the fairy tales. Ace knows just enough to know he really wishes that he’d paid more attention, or that Sabo was here to talk for him.

“I am glad she is safe,” he says, slow and careful and thinking over every word before it leaves his mouth. There, that’s safe enough, isn’t it?

The Lady looks at him. “You are kind enough to rescue a child,” she says, “and you remember the old warnings and heed them.”

He only bows his head in acknowledgement and says nothing, because what do you say to that?

“And polite enough to know what not to say.” the Lady says, and laughs. “You may claim a boon from me, child. What would you ask?”

And this, at least, he knows. He can’t turn it down outright, because that is capital R Rude, but fairy gifts are fickle and capricious. “Nothing for myself, Lady,” he says, because if she hasn’t given a name he sure as shit ain’t asking for one. “Only for the health and wellbeing of the girl.”

She’s quiet a long moment, and he risks looking up at her. Finally she says, “You may have won a boon, mortal, but you have earned my favor.” Her fingers on his chin sear cold to his bones, and when she presses a kiss to his forehead his soul shakes.

She steps back and sweeps the girlchild into her skirts. “Your wish is granted,” she says, loud and carrying, and it cracks like thunder. “Fare thee well, child, and bear my favor proud.”

And she’s gone.

Ace’s knees give out and he hits the deck, shaking and shivering. He’s cold, he’s cold inside, and his skin burns where she left her mark. There’s hands on his back and shouting in his ears but everything is dark and spinning–

“Ace?” asks a voice he knows, a voice he can’t ignore, a voice from memory and nightmares, and his head snaps up.

“Sa–” he says and then chokes on his hope, because it can’t be, it can’t–

“What’s going on?” Sabo asks, because it is him, truly–it’s Sabo, just as Ace remembers him. He’s shorter now, with that missing tooth and a pipe in his hand and that dumb napkin ‘round his neck.

“Sabo,” Ace says, and grabs him into a hug. Sabo struggles a bit, but mostly for show; he gives up quickly and hugs him back.

“You okay, Ace?” someone else asks, and he finally looks up. There’s a crowd of crew around him, with Marco in the lead and the other Commanders close behind. The second they see he’s good, Marco asks, “Who was that, yoi? What happened?”

“She was a fae,” Sabo says, voice only barely muffled by Ace’s body. “The Lady of the Deeps. The girl was a changeling who’d gone wandering, and she’d been stolen back by those pirates.”

“And who are you, then?” Thatch asks, finally stepping forward.

Ace lurches to his feet, keeping both hands on Sabo’s shoulders. “This is my dead brother,” he says, unable to take his eyes off blond hair and a lopsided grin.

But little Sabo shakes his head. “I’m a manifestation of a memory,” he clarifies, “born of a wish and given form by fairy magic.”

Because that’s the fae all over; at their cruelest when trying to be kind. “But you’re still Sabo,” Ace says, and it’s almost not a question.

Tiny Sabo tilts his head back to give Ace that look and says, “Of course I am, Ace; don’t be dumb.”

And that’s Sabo down to the very core. Ace feels a wild grin spreading across his face. “You’re the dumb one, idiot.”

“You’re the idiot, moron,” Sabo bites back, and it’s just like every long afternoon spent in forests long ago.

“I missed you,” he says instead of continuing. “Sabo, I missed you so much.”

Tiny Sabo looks at him, then glances around at the crowd. “So much so you forgot your manners, huh?”

Oh, right. “This is Thatch–” he starts with, because Thatch is the closest, but Sabo waves a hand.

“I’m from you, Ace,” he says, “I know everything you do. I meant, introduce me to them.”

“Well, you coulda just said–”

Sabo steps on his foot and makes it hurt, and that’s right, he’d forgotten how awful Sabo could be, hadn’t he? “I hate you,” Ace hisses, flinching back and trying not to hop. “That hurt!”

Sabo opens his mouth to retort but Thatch plos down next to him. “Hey,” he says, and holds out a hand. “I guess you know me, but it’s nice to meet you, Sabo.”

Sabo grins and takes the hand, shaking it twice. “Pleasure’s mine,” he says. “Thank you for taking care of my brother. I know he can be a handful, but–”

Ace sputters and lunges for Sabo, who dances out of the way. “–but he’s worth it!” Sabo finishes triumphantly, hiding behind Marco’s legs.

“Get back here!” Ace yells, jumping for him and accidentally tackling Marco. Sabo laughs and dances away, and before Ace can get up to chase him a hand grabs his shoulder.

“You okay, yoi?” Marco asks. “I don’t really get what happened, but you’re not hurt, right?”

“I’m fine,” he says, but Marco’s looking at him calm and even, and Ace owes him more than that. He thinks about it, but his fire’s burning hot as ever, and while his forehead still tingles it’s no longer hurting. “I am fine,” he repeats. And he is, of course, because, “I have Sabo back.”

And he looks away and hurries to get up before he has to face the next question. He really doesn’t want to think about for how long?

It’s a question for later, because even from here he can hear Sabo telling a blatantly untrue story to a fascinated audience of Second Division members. “–into the alligator pit,” he’s saying when Ace finally catches him.

“It’s not true,” he tells his subordinates quickly. “He’s a liar; he lies! It’s not true!”

“Someone’s lying here, but it’s not me,” Sabo says, and Haruta reaches out to free Sabo from Ace’s headlock.

“Oh, please,” Harute croons. “Tell us more.”

Sabo grins and says, “Feed me and I will.”

“Deal!” Haruta agrees, then takes his hand and bounces off, already hollering for Thatch.

–

They end up having a feast on the main deck that night, watching the stars come out together. Sabo’s everywhere, talking to everyone, and Ace is right on his heels. He scoops up tiny Sabo only to be mauled viciously until he lets go, Sabo runs off, and then the cycle starts again.

Then the food comes out, and Thatch stops by with a huge platter of the best bits, just for Sabo. Ace tries to snag a bit and gets his hand slapped for it. “Hey!”

“That’s for Sabo,” Thatch tells him. “Have you seen how skinny he is? And also I like him better than you.”

That doesn’t even hurt because Ace likes Sabo better than himself too. “Yeah, well, we got our own food as kids,” he says, trying to glare at the food Sabo’s happily shoveling into his mouth. It’s probably more of a yearning stare, though, because Thatch huffs at him and goes to fetch a second platter.

He hands it over and asks, “You got your own food?”

“Yeah, hunted it and everything.” Ace says, and then takes his first bite. It’s so good, just like always. He makes sure to swallow before he says, “Thanks.” Then he dives back in.

And then he wakes up, face down in some mashed tuber dish. There’s a quiet conversation going on over his head, and he blinks groggily and tunes in.

“We never starved,” Sabo’s saying. “If we couldn’t catch anything, we could go into town for a dine and dash, or if we were real desperate we went back to our caretaker’s. Sometimes I’d sneak food out of my house, but it was never much.”

“I just thought he had a really fast metabolism,” Thatch says just as quietly.

“That too,” Sabo agrees, then pokes Ace in the ribs. “If you’re not gonna eat that…” he says pointedly, and Ace glares at him and stuffs his face furiously.

Sabo’s laugh is exactly as he remembers it, but then, it would be, wouldn’t it? Just another reminder that this Sabo isn’t his to keep, and his mood plummets.

“I’m gonna go make some hot chocolate for everyone,” Thatch says suddenly, standing. “I’ll bring some out when it’s ready.”

It’s a poor excuse to leave, but if Ace gets hot chocolate out of it, he really can’t complain. He nods, and a bit of tuber mash falls off his face.

Sabo tsks at him and produces a handkerchief from…somewhere. “Your face is a mess,” he says, and Ace grumbles but lets tiny Sabo climb up onto his lap to dab at his face.

It doesn’t take long, and then they’re left, quiet and staring, in each other’s presence.

Finally Ace asks the bitter question that’s been behind his teeth all night. “How long?”

Sabo sighs and says, “Not much longer. It’s up to you, but it has to be soon.”

“What do you mean?” Ace asks, but he doesn’t need to.

“You have to set me free, Ace,” Sabo says. “I know you know how.”

Ace does, is the thing, and it’s all Sabo’s fault. Sabo and his stupid fairy tales, he thinks, but he remembers the rules. Always be polite. Take nothing. Give no offense. A fae creature’s contract ends when gratitude is given.

“I don’t want to,” Ace says instead. “Sabo.” But it’s not enough, so he repeats, “Sabo.”

“I can’t be here come dawn,” Sabo tells him quietly. “Ace. You know this. Let me go.”

“No,” Ace says. “I only just got you back–I can’t.”

And Sabo smiles at him, slow and gentle. “Of course you can. You never needed me, Ace. Not like I needed you.”

“Of course I did–”

“Look around you,” and Ace does. “Look, Ace. You have a family. You have a father you respect. You have a home and a place and a purpose, and you did it all on your own.” He places his small hand on Ace’s cheek and leans in until their foreheads touch. “You don’t need me, Ace. So let me go.”

There’s tears in his eyes when he chokes on the words, but he gets out, “Thank you. Thank you, Sabo. Thank you. You were my friend when I had no one and my brother by choice. You didn’t hate me for my name, and you took care of Luffy and taught me how to be a big brother and I miss you, Sabo.” And Sabo smiles like he knows, but he’s also drifting apart like a dream and Ace tries to hold him closer as he says, quiet and desperate, “Thank you for loving me.”

When he opens his eyes, Sabo’s gone, and all he has in his hands is glowing dust and empty hopes.

–

When he steps out onto the deck, the sunlight almost blinds him. He blinks it away and squints around.

The deck is chaos. There’s crew everywhere, rushing back and forth with buckets and ropes and barrels, and it’s the type of specialized frantic that heralds special guests. Marco’s over to the side, directing, and Ace meanders in that direction.

“We expecting someone?” he asks, leaning beside Marco and hiding a yawn. “I didn’t hear about anyone dropping by.”

Marco gives him a quick assessing look, and Ace gives him a small nod. He feels empty and scraped clean, but in a good kind of way, so it’s fine. His fire’s still burning and his forehead feels like the Lady never touched it.

“Kinda last minute,” Marco says. “We got a call this morning from the Revolutionary Army, yoi. Apparently their second in command has an urgent message for us.”

“Really?” Ace asks. “Huh. I wonder what it could be.”

“Who knows?” Marco says, shrugging. “Could be anything.”