#1. clogging the toilets

[shadow-says-hello]

Scariest moment of your life is when you’re at someone’s house that’s not your own or you’re at a party or something and you ate something bad and you have to unload it on the toilet

[mistaf]

Me who just experienced the most painful bowel movement of my life and got the toilet clogged again at 2 am

[celestialsoulsims]

it clearly isn’t her day

[draincleaningil]

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[emergencyplumbingil]

Most common problem with toilet The most common problem with toilets can vary, but some frequently encountered issues include: 1. Clogged Toilet: This occurs when excessive toilet paper, foreign objects, or waste build-up obstructs the drain pipes, causing water to flow slowly or stop completely. 2. Running Toilet: A common issue where water constantly runs into the toilet bowl even when it's not being flushed. This can waste water and may be caused by a faulty flapper valve or a problem with the fill valve. 3. Leaking Toilet: When water leaks from the base or tank of the toilet, it can cause damage to the floor and waste water resources. The cause may be a faulty wax seal, loose bolts, or a cracked tank or bowl. 4. Weak Flush: If your toilet doesn't flush properly, it could be due to a partial blockage in the trap way or drain pipe, issues with the flapper valve, or inadequate water level in the tank. 5. Overflowing Toilet: This can be caused by a blockage in the drain pipe, a malfunctioning fill valve, or a problem with the float mechanism. It can lead to water damage and should be addressed promptly. If you are experiencing any of these common toilet problems, it's best to consider contacting a plumber.

[muzdiir]

one of the things i hate about renting is not being able to fix plumbing issues ourselves

[eatsless]

skinny tea is absolutely the worst thing ive ever tasted, to the point i make it concentrated and drink it like a shot and still almost throw up after, but hooooly shit does it work wonders

[timsashas]

do my roommates think i’m stupid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BITING THRASHING

[revasserium]

can i have one were zoro realises she does things bc of truama (like doesnt speak much etc)

hold me (still)

opla!zoro; 6,680 words; slow!!!!burn, fem!reader, ex-assassin!reader, straw hat!reader, general tragic backstory/trauma, fluff, hurt/comfort, bit of angst, emotionally constipated zoro, communication? what's that?, nami playing therapist bc she's the only one with 1 iota of emotional intelligence

summary: sometimes, stillness is a virtue, and others -- a tragedy. or, in which the straw hats pick up a new member and zoro is equally intrigued and weirded out by you.

a/n: well. you guys asked for slow burn and... the burn is so slow u gotta squint to see the smoke yall. but trust. the burn does get there! pls be patient!! and i tried to combine 2 dif reqs in this one fic :)

You are of the quiet sort. Just a shadow dancing in the periphery of their vision, and when they first met you, you’d told them it was your superpower, a soft, still smile slipping across your lips. Luffy had bought into it immediately, and the invitation was out his mouth before anyone could stop him.

“Come with us!”

“Oh…” your lips pressed into a thin line of consideration.

Zoro’s fingers itched towards his swords because something about you makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But something else — something uncomfortable and strange, something very much like curiosity — seizes his chest and twists his stomach. Strange, he thinks, too strange.

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

And then, you’d smiled wider, and nodded, and that had been that.

It’s been three months since then, and you are still of the quiet sort, though it had receded a bit with time. What with Sanji’s gentle flirting and Usopp’s not-so-gentle stories and Nami’s bright, dry-humored companionship, you’d begun to “open up a bit”, so Luffy observed.

Zoro, for his part, has kept his distance. Because sometimes he still catches you at the bow of the ship, staring out across the midnight waters, still as a stone-carved statue. Still as a wooden beam — stiller, even.

“What’s with that?” he asks one day, strolling up to Nami as she traces a fine line over a new map she’s working on.

“Hm?” is her very eloquent response.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth and casts his eyes about the ship, finding them drawn to the shape of you, up at the bow again, reading in the shade of the tangerine trees. Nothing moves except for the wind as it whisps through your hair and the slow scanning of your eyes as it skates across the page.

“New girl,” Zoro says, crossing his arms as Nami finally looks up at him and then off towards you.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Zoro lets out a puff of breath, unfolding his arms to glare at Nami. He finds her grinning a lopsided grin as she clicks shut her compass and puts down her pen. She leans a hip on the barrel she’d been drawing on and folds her own arms.

“Oh, you like her.”

“I’m weirded out by her. ‘S not the same thing,” Zoro snaps, but when he tries to leave, Nami blocks him with an arm and pins him with a sharp, leveling look.

“No, no, no — we’re gonna work this through.”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Uh-uh, you still owe me after that round of drinks the other night — remember when you bet you could drink more than me?”

Zoro narrows his eyes, “I did drink more than you.”

Nami’s grin is gleeful, “No, you didn’t. You had to be dragged back to your room after clogging up the toilet. Or do I need to show you the evidence —”

“Alright — fuck, fine. But really? This is what you’re gonna waste your favor on? You could’ve asked me to —” Zoro gestures around vaguely, “clean the bilge or something.”

Nami shrugs, looking almost too pleased, “Nope! This is what I wanna use my favor for. And, really, you think a bit of bilge water is gonna gross me out? C’mon.”

Zoro heaves a sigh and leans back against the main mast, closing his eyes.

“Fine then. Go.”

Nami sits back on the edge of the barrel.

“No, you go. Admit that you like the new girl.”

“I don’t.” He doesn’t open his eyes.

“I’ve seen you staring at her. We’ve all seen you staring at her.”

“What, that a crime now?”

Nami fights the urge to roll her eyes, “No, but I’ve never seen you try so hard to avoid someone before.”

Zoro lets out a bark of laughter, hard and mirthless, “Yeah, so that must mean I like her.”

Nami cocks her head, “It means you feel something towards her. And I’d suggest you figure it out.”

“And how’d you propose I do that?”

Nami once again waves in your direction, “Go. Talk. To her.”

Zoro lets out another breath, eyes scanning across the ship, anywhere but towards where you’re still sitting and reading, finger flipping a page in a perfect, smooth, singular motion.

And Zoro’s not blind. Blunt though he may be at times and careless as he is about most material things, he can still appreciate beauty when he sees it. And you — there’s no denying that you’re beautiful. Your strange stillness aside, when you do move, it’s with a dancer’s lissome grace, fluid lines, not a single movement wasted. When you smile, it seems to light you up from the inside, and your words, though soft, carries the well-worn weight of river stones, glittering beneath the clear, spring stream of your voice.

There’s a sharpness in your eyes, a straightness to your spine, a way of carrying yourself as if you’re afraid that one wrong move might shatter you and the entire world around you.

Sometimes when he sees you, he wonders at the hands that had sculpted you this way. He wonders at your life before they’d picked you up in Loguetown, when you’d oh-so-silently slipped up the execution platform and helped Luffy down, all the while staying free of Smoker’s watchful gaze.

The few times he’s seen you fight, he can’t help wondering if you’ve eaten some kind of devil fruit as well. No human could be so fast as that. Or be so quiet. But then again, he’d fought Kuro, and they’d seen stranger things. Still, he marvels at the way you flicker in and out of sight, slipping around the edges of battle like a dark, haunting thing, and men would drop like flies beneath your quick, quiet hands. With nary a sound or shout before their eyes roll back and their breathing is no more.

On the instances when Sanji had asked about your past, your eyes had gone misty and dark, unfocused. You’d gone still, freezing for so long that Usopp would cough just to fill the silence. And then slowly, ever so slowly, you’d turn back towards them with a small, sad smile and say:

“There’s… not much to talk about. I grew up somewhere far away, where if you didn’t keep quiet and still, bad things would happen to you. And then when those bad things happened, if you weren’t quick — the quickest of all, you’d die.”

Bad things, huh? Zoro thinks as he makes his way towards you, a hand resting on the hilt of his swords. He comes to a stop next to you and leans against one of the white planters, casually peering over your shoulder at the book in your hands.

For a long moment, neither of you move. Then, Zoro clears his throat and forces himself to speak.

“Is it good?”

It takes you a second, but eventually, you turn towards him.

“The book? Yeah, I suppose.”

“Not exactly a glowing review.”

You laugh, a soft, breathy little thing as you look back down at the page.

“It's about a girl who falls into an enchanted sleep, and a prince who wakes her up with a kiss.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a kiss.”

“Yes, and one hell of a prince.”

Zoro finds himself chuckling, his shoulders loosening as he takes another breath.

“And then what?” he asks.

“And then… he asks her to marry him.”

You run your fingers along the page, smoothing your palm over the ink and parchment. Zoro watches you, wondering, always wondering.

“What’s she say?” and it’s then that he notices his own voice, hushed and low, barely a whisper.

You look back up at him and smile a smile a sphynx would have been proud of.

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”

Zoro takes a breath, and the breath tastes distinctly different than all the breaths he’d taken before it. As if the world takes the breath with him, and some fundamental truth had shifted on the exhale.

The moment breaks, as moments are wont to do, when Sanji calls out for lunch and Zoro jerks out of his almost-reverie. You slowly close your book and rise to your feet, turning back to smile at him.

“C’mon, it’s lunchtime.”

Zoro nods and follows you into the kitchen, where Luffy and Usopp are already digging in, and Nami is pouring herself a drink. She spots the pair of you and catches Zoro’s eyes. A grin ticks at the edge of her lips but before she can say anything, you’re accosted by Sanji sweeping into a deep, flourishing bow, and ushering you towards the table, where he’d set your place in a manner fit for a princess.

“Where’s my setup?” Zoro asks as he drops into the seat next to you, cocking an eyebrow. Sanji shoots him an unimpressed look.

“I’m surprised you can use a fork and knife, moss-head. Just be grateful and eat up.”

Zoro scoffs but digs in nonetheless.

When next they dock, it’s on a rare, peaceful island — an island of light and books and learning, where the air smells of salt and ink and drying parchment, of unwritten words and untold stories. But it smells of a stillness too, and Zoro knows without having to ask that you’d like it here.

And you do.

He’s never seen you smile so much, never seen you so vibrant and full of life. You chat and laugh and read with a voracious hunger, and he finds himself drawn to this new, warm, moving side of you. He finds himself, more often than not, by your side, even when neither of you speak. And he basks in the comfort of the quiet that permeates the air when it’s just the two of you — him hanging in the hammock on deck, you reading by his side.

But now, there’s the soft tapping of your foot, the shuffle of pages when you flip forward to see what’s coming next, and of course the ever-present shush of the ocean as it washes against the Merry’s side.

The Log Pose needs two weeks to properly calibrate to the next island, so they’ve got time to kill.

On the fifth night, over dinner and drinks, Luffy asks the question that everyone’s been thinking since the day they’d all met you —

“So. Why’re you so still all the time? Not that it’s weird or anything — well, actually — it kind of is, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m just asking cause I'm curious!”

You look up from your half-finished wine but Zoro feels it happening, like the hush of a fan blade slicing through air, the gasp before a porcelain vase tips over and shatters. You stop. You stare. You’re frozen in every sense of the word. And he’s known you for long enough to know that you only go still as a reflex, only reach for it as a shield. Against what? He doesn’t quite know.

“It’s… something of a long story,” you say, your voice low and hoarse.

Luffy grins, smacking his lips as he sucks the meat off a chicken leg, “We’ve got tons of time! Right?” he looks around as if for validation, but everyone’s eyes are caught on you and your unnatural stillness.

Zoro shifts slightly in the seat next to you, opening his stance and turning towards you.

“Could do with a good story.”

Your eyes flash in his direction and he offers you the barest hint of a smile.

You relax, ever so slightly, drifting back in your seat, your glass cupped in the palms of your hands. And then, you begin to speak, your voice smooth and lilting, your words washing over them like the faint lull of the tides.

“When I was three, my father sold me for a barrel of beer.”

A dull clack echoes around the room and everyone turns to see Sanji hurriedly righting the thick stein he’s knocked over. Thankfully, it’d been empty.

“Sorry — I just — what?” he sounds furious but Usopp lays a hand across his arm and shakes his head.

You take a deep breath and continue, your voice oddly emotionless as you say, “The man who bought me took me to an island. It was… a dark place. A quiet place. I only learned its name after I escaped — an island called Elysium.”

Nami gasps before clapping her hands over her mouth.

“I’ve just — I’ve heard of that place before, but I thought… I thought it was just a made-up place.”

Luffy swallows hard, frowning, “What’s it like?”

Nami’s eyes flicker between you and Luffy, “Supposedly… it’s the home island for… for the most feared group of assassins in all the seas combined.”

Usopp’s eyebrows jerk up, “The most feared?”

A faint smile seeps across your lips like blood.

“Yes. The Shadows that Live.”

Everyone turns to look at you. Luffy picks up another drumstick.

“Whoa… cool name!”

Zoro hums, “I’ve heard of them before — but mostly, it was just an old wive’s tale about… shadow assassins who hunt in the dark. Mercenaries for hire. But… no one’s ever seen one before.”

“Because… once you see one, you’ll never live to tell the tale,” you say, your eyes now downcast and fixed on the glass in your hands.

“Then…” Usopp’s voice is soft, “What about… you?”

“I… I ran away.”

Silence greets you. But after a moment, Luffy spits out a bit of bone and uses it to pick at the space between his teeth, his eyes round.

“Wow! You must be pretty good to run away from an island full of shadow assassins!”

You almost laugh, his boundless trust hitting you like a punch to the stomach.

“So…” Sanji lets out a puff of silvery smoke, “the staying still thing… that’s just part of your training, yeah?”

You nod, “Something like that.”

Someday, you think, you’ll tell them about the hellscape that was Elysium island, of the long echoing halls, dark and still and silent. Of the mechanical beasts that hunted by sound and movement alone. Someday, you’ll let them know about the poisoned pomegranate seeds that they feed all the “recruits” to keep them hazy, of how you’d kept six of them suspended in your mouth and spat them all out when you’d finally made it far enough from the island to allow yourself to breathe.

“And… are these shadow assassins gonna come after us?” Nami asks, her voice careful and light.

You purse your lips, “I… I don’t know.”

Nami sighs, but a moment later, she moves to refill her drink with a slight shrug, “Well, just one more enemy to add to our growing list. Soon, we’re gonna have to post a sign-up sheet.”

At this, everyone laughs, and the tension snaps like a wounded spring.

Luffy burps loudly, patting his stomach, “I’m not worried — I mean, if you were able to run away from them once, that means you’re stronger than them, right?”

You pause, your hand hovering over the wine bottle. Zoro gently reaches over and refills your glass for you. You shift back into movement, casting him a small smile and taking a sip. The wine is cool and tangy as it hits the back of your throat. You breathe, and the world keeps spinning.

“I… I’m not sure — I’ve never fought… any of… them… before.”

“Guess we’ll find out if they try to come for you then — but you’ve got us now!” Luffy says, reaching for an apple and chomping into it, “ — Sho… you duon gotta wourry —” he licks his lips as he takes another huge bite before tossing the core towards the waste bin, “We’ve got your back!”

Nami makes a disgusted face, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, ugh.”

Sanji chuckles, tapping out his cigarette, “Yeah Luffy, mind your manners.” But his voice is full of laughter and you find yourself relaxing into the sway of the night, the swing of conversation. Beside you, Zoro refills his own glass and leans over to clink it against yours.

You turn, but he only raises his glass before taking a sip.

You mirror his movement, cradling the cup to your chest when you finish.

Later, he finds you by the tangerine trees, ghosting your fingers over their lush green leaves, dark enough to look black in the evening light.

“Hey.”

You turn, “Hi.”

Zoro sighs and looks out over the darkened waves, the moonlight refracted into a million shattered bits of sky.

“Luffy’s right, y’know.”

“What about?” you ask, joining him by the railings. The night air is cool and crisp. Behind you both, the island oozes with lamplight and laughter. Even from here, you can hear the joy, the peace that permeates the air here. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, you think, to stay here forever.

“If they come for you,” Zoro says, “we’ll have your back.”

You let out a small chuckle, looking down at your hands, “I know.”

“So,” he turns towards you, his earrings glinting in beneath the scimitar moon, “you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

You lick your lips, and instinctively, you reach for the stillness. All the days and weeks and months with the people around you have softened you, and for that, you know you should be thankful. Still, old habits die hard, and you have to clench your fists and dig your nails into your own palms to keep from freezing completely.

You take a shivering breath and force it out again.

“Fear’s a hard habit to break.”

At this, Zoro grunts, though it sounds something like consent. The moment stretches, long and soft and taffy-sweet.

He turns back towards the sea, “Yeah,” he says, and then —

“But we can take it slow.”

You swallow hard, passed the broken shards of forgotten words lodged in your throat (you find that they all somehow taste like thank you), and you nod. Warmth tickles your cheeks and you wonder why he’s said we instead of you — and later, lying in your bed at night, staring at the moon-slatted ceiling, you wonder if he was really talking about fear or if it was something else entirely.

You don’t get a lick of sleep that night.

The next few days pass in a light, repetitive blur. You and Zoro are sent on a few short shopping trips in the city, and you’re glad for something to do that involves movement. Shocking how quickly the body adapts once the weight it’d been holding on to is lifted.

You are still quiet, and he, the same; but the silence has shifted around you, and whereas before it’d been solid and steady, it’s now thrumming and charged with some unspoken energy.

Neither of you are blind to it; nor, it seems, is the rest of the crew.

Sanji’s taken to openly teasing Zoro about being with you all the time, complaining loudly that he can’t get a word in edgewise because Zoro refuses to leave you alone. Nami keeps on trying to drag you out for “girl's day” shopping trips, hinting at all the cute clothes you could get and how “green really suits your skin tone, y’know?”

Luffy and Usopp for their part, both just grin whenever they see you together — Luffy stoked at the fact that you seem more happy and talkative, Usopp gleeful at the way Zoro always seems so much softer when he’s next to you.

You’ve taken to watching him when he trains, sitting in the shade of the tangerine trees, a cold drink in your hand as Zoro runs through his katas. You content yourself with watching him flow through the movements, one and then another, and then another after that. He contents himself with your presence, knowing that you’re here, feeling your eyes as they skate down the length of his back or the width of his shoulders.

It’s a peaceful sort of companionship, even if it is living on borrowed time.

When you all wave the little island goodbye, it’s with heavy hearts and tearful smiles. It had treated you well, and you think you’d miss it. But adventure is as adventure does — it calls, beckoning to those with wandering hearts to listen.

The first week back at sea is a strange one, full of a ringing nostalgia. As if you’re simultaneously coming home and leaving one at the same time. Everyone is a bit quiet, except for Luffy, of course, who literally bounces off the freshly waxed planks, humming to himself as he sits on top of the great ram’s figurehead.

“Is he ever still?” you ask one day, sometime in the second week.

To which Zoro makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “You’ve been here a while. What’d you think?”

You sigh softly and tear your eyes away from the bright, shivering ball of energy that is your captain towards the far horizon. A sliver of uncertainty twines through you and your breath slows. Zoro glances at you, now long since attuned to your subtle shifts in movement and stillness. He narrows his eyes.

“What is it?”

You shake yourself back into the moment, forcing a smile.

“Nothing. I think…” your words fade as the feeling twists in you again, knife-sharp and stinging. You clear your throat and reach up to brush away a strand of hair. Skin grazes skin as Zoro’s hand meets yours in the same gesture and you both freeze — hands held up, his finger caught against the bend of your cheekbone, your fingers curling over his.

Time slows, slackens around the pair of you, and the moment stays, suspended in space — garnet dark and perfect.

Neither of you dare to breathe. It’s then that you realize how close Zoro is — close enough for you to see the entire ocean reflected in his eyes: big and dark and so endless it nearly unmoors you. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin; his body, emanating heat. You’d often wondered, in the long hours of watching him train, at the glistening copper of his skin and the light-kissed quality, if the sun himself favored Zoro as well.

Like this, it’s easy to believe that beneath his skin, there pulsed something like sunlight.

“Look! It’s an island! It’s an island!”

And just like that, the moment shatters. Time slips back into motion and you pull away from each other, breathless, with warm cheeks and thundering hearts, feeling somehow lightning-touched and static-ridden.

You take half a step back, reaching up to press a hand to your mouth as if to stop something from tumbling through. But what? You can’t really say.

Zoro tips back as well, whipping around to help Usopp and Sanji with the sails as Luffy continues to holler, waving his hat. On the horizon, you see it looming — the silhouette of an island. You lower your palm from your lips to your heart and wonder what kind of island it will be.

Deserted — seems to be the answer when you all make landfall. The island is quiet, but the occasional chirp and cricket staves off your nerves as you all wander cautiously about the beach, squinting into the dense forest that seems to encompass the whole of the island.

“Looks like a good place to camp for the night!” Luffy says, grinning as he plops down on the sand.

Sanji nods, dusting off his hands, “We’ll need some wood for a fire, but I reckon I can whip up some grilled fish from the fresh catch.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look around, glancing back at the darkening horizon.

“Something the matter?” Zoro’s voice is soft as he helps you carry some of the camping supplies from the ship.

“No… yes… I —” you look up at him, pursing your lips, “I don’t know. I’ve just… this island is…”

Zoro looks around, his dark eyes scanning the thick swath of forest just beyond the beach, “Too quiet?”

You let out a tiny laugh, “Yeah, something like that.”

He nods, “Don’t worry, I’m — we’re here.”

And he leaves it at that, hoisting a stack of wood over his shoulders and going to help Nami with the fire. You watch him with a smile, wondering what on earth you’d done to deserve this level of caring, this magnitude of kindness. Soon, dinner is had and drinks are shared and laughter is spilled like so many silver coins over the white sand beach. The lull of the evening takes over you all, and before long, Luffy and Usopp are slumped over each other, snoring loudly.

You stare into the depths of the fire and try to tamp down the growing dread festering inside your bones. All those years of holding still, of breathing and listening and feeling — you shake yourself — no, not all stillness is a bad thing. Not all silences are made the same.

“You’re doing it again,” Zoro’s voice almost makes you jump. Instead, you turn, finding him next to you as he nurses a half-drunk bottle of wine in his hands. He doesn’t look at you, but there’s a loose grin hinged across his lips.

“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head, feeling a now familiar heat creep into your cheeks that has nothing to do with the dwindling bonfire.

“Don’t be,” Zoro takes another drink, “But I told you… you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I know… and I’ve said before —”

“Fear’s a hard habit to break,” Zoro echoes back at you, finally glancing over and catching your eye.

You breathe out, looking down at your own hands, “Yeah… but I’m trying.”

You both fall silent, and for a while, the only sounds are the crackle of the dying flames, the shush of the ocean waves, and the occasional snores from the rest of your crew. It’s late — later than you realized.

“Do you… want me to grab a book for you?”

You smile, “No, I don’t think it’s bright enough.”

“I could restoke the fire.”

“No, it’s — it’s okay.”

“Alright.”

A bird coos the distance.

“Why don’t you tell me a story?” you ask, turning to look at Zoro proper, shifting till your body is facing him.

In the faint light, you can see the edge of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“You’re asking the wrong guy — you should wait till the Great Captain Usopp’s awake.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear one from you.”

Zoro sighs, his eyes fixed on the last of the flickering flames. He takes another swig of wine before he starts to speak, his voice low and a bit stilted, but he pushes on. He tells you about his childhood, the village he’d trained in, the doujou in the middle of the wood, his friend who he’d never beat — not even once.

He tells you about he early mornings and the late nights, and how the world had seemed large enough to conquer.

“… And then… there came a morning when she didn’t show up… and sensei came and told me that there’d been an accident.”

His voice almost breaks then, and your eyes catch on the shining white hilt of the Wadou Ichimonji — his thumb pressing against the guard, running along it’s hard metal edge.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Zoro shrugs, “Don’t be.”

You nod, “Still.”

Zoro slates you a lopsided smirk, “So. Now you know my tragic backstory too.”

You laugh, leaning back to cast your eyes up towards the sky, “And you know mine — it’s almost like we’re friends or something.”

Zoro lets out a long breath, “Yeah… or something.”

There’s a tightness to his voice that makes your skin tingle and it takes everything you have not to look over at him, to try and see if he’s looking at you, watching you the way you’d imagined him to be. You fancy you can feel his gaze on your face, but you close your eyes instead.

You let yourself fall into the warm haze of sleep, and for a while you drift there, your mind sifting through shards of memories and slivers of sound, casting them against the backs of your eyelids as you slowly slide into the darkness of dreams.

You wake up to a gasping stillness — the silence pressing in on your eardrums like thumbs, the darkness around you so complete it’s almost a solid thing. You freeze, your breath hissing to a halt inside you. Then distantly, ever so distantly, you hear the sounds of battle — metal clashing against metal, the hard thud of boots against flesh. You shake your head and reach up to clap your hands over your ears and only then do your senses return to you, snapping back as if you’d been abruptly shunted back into your earthly body.

“Gum Gum — Pistol!”

“Seize her!”

You whip into movement, fast as a flash, dashing away, hoping against hope that it would draw your attackers far enough from your crewmates.

“No one… ever… leaves us…”

The voice is serpentine and susurrus, sinking into your skin like sharpened teeth, but before it can reach you, it’s cut short by a bright flash of silver.

You gasp, whirling around, reaching for the nearest pulse, instinct taking over as you sink your fingers into muscle and flesh. The rush of blood thrumming beneath your fingertips comes too easy, even as a familiar scent accosts you. A moment later, your hands are being pinned above you, and thick, rough bark is digging into your wrists as Zoro stands before you, a sword in one hand, the other holding you still.

His eyes are a little wild and a lot worried. There’s a ring of red rawness around his neck, thin trickles of blood trailing along his jugular, disappearing into the wide scoop neck of his shirt.

“Hey, look at me.”

You nearly whimper, struggling against him, fear still coursing through you like a drug but Zoro is strong enough to keep you held. Behind him, you can see the rest of the crew fending off several shadowy figures, Usopp waving a torch, screaming at the top of his lungs, Luffy whooping as he whacks another figure with his fist.

“Z-Zoro?”

“Yeah, it’s me — eyes up here.”

You swallow in a breath, and then another, and you feel the bright thrum of urgency leave you as your body slowly falls slack. And then you’re slipping, and he’s looping an arm around you to keep you upright.

“Th-they’re here — they —”

“They’re gone — we got rid of them — hey.”

Zoro takes you by the shoulders and gives you a gentle shake. Finally, your eyes catch on his and your gaze holds. You see yourself reflected in them, stark and terrified, but alive — somehow alive.

“They’re gone,” he says, his voice soft and low by your ear, his arm still wrapped around your middle. Shivers wrack your body as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of steel and skin and the metallic tang of blood. It’s then that you remember — the wounds on the sides of his neck. The marks in the shape of your hands —

You jerk back and feel a sticky wetness against your cheek.

“Zoro, I hurt you!”

At this, he scoffs, pulling back far enough to flash you a look.

“This is nothing. C’mon.”

He offers you a hand, and after a second you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Wordlessly, he presses his palm to the small of your back, his arm extended to keep you steady as you both make your way back towards camp.

“Phew! That was a workout!” Luffy is saying just as you both reach the outskirts of the now-darkened bonfire. Sanji is pulling out a cigarette, striking a match, and first lighting the end before tossing it into the remains of the firewood, fanning it up into a slow flame.

Nami and Usopp both look a bit shaken, but none worse for the wear.

They all pivot to look at you.

You go still against Zoro’s side, uncertainty flooding through you. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s fingers as they press into the bend of your waist, solid and steady.

Then, Usopp coughs, “C’mon y’all — the Shadows that Live? Psh! More like — the Shadows that Fled, am I right? Yeah? Didya see the way I sent ‘em runnin’ with my brand new fire-powered explosion rounds?”

Nami chuckles and Sanji follows suit, shaking his head and letting out a thin wisp of smoke. Luffy’s grins at you, pumping a fist in the air, clapping his right shoulder.

“See? Told you we’d have your back! We are your crew, after all!”

Weakness seeps into your limbs as you nod, hot pin-pricks of tears itching at your lower lashes. You lower your head and rub at your eyes before looking back up again with a smile. Sanji grimaces as he looks over Zoro.

“Got something on your neck, mate.”

Zoro glares but you glance over and feel your stomach twist with guilt.

“Sorry… I can clean that up for you. They’re not deep but they do need to be bandaged up.”

Zoro wipes down his sword before sheathing it and motioning towards the ship. Behind you, you can hear Nami yawning and saying something about catching up on some more sleep and Sanji reassuring her about having the last watch anyway.

The kitchen is still dark, but the dusty dawn sweeps against the far horizon and neither of you bother to turn the lights on. You carefully set the first aid kit on the kitchen counter and collect the supplies as Zoro leans back against the edge and folds his arms. You work in near silence, reaching up to first wipe the thin threads of drying blood before tending to the tiny, crescent-shaped puncture wounds.

You press an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against one of them and feel Zoro wince.

“Sorry.”

“I’m fine.”

You bite your lips, “If this had been a bit deeper or a few inches over —”

“But it wasn’t. So it’s fine.”

You don’t look up at him but you can feel his eyes on you. Your movements are fluid and sure; you’d clearly done this before.

“Hey, look at me.”

You freeze, eyes slowly gliding up the planes and divots of his neck, slipping up the line of his jaw, so sharp it might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. Your breath hitches as you finally meet his eyes, and there’s a dark, knowing glint behind them that makes your stomach flip.

“I’m fine.”

And for the second time in a handful of hours, you’re caught by the realization of your closeness — only a breath of space between you. There’s a crimp at the corner of his mouth that looks dangerously like a smile and then you’re tipping forward, a thumb reaching up to trace the line of his bottom lip once —

The movement acts like a trigger, and suddenly, he is leaning in and the breath of space disappears.

For all your life of stillness, you thought you’d learned to appreciate the depths and widths of movement. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this — for the push and pull of lips on lips, for the force and friction of skin against skin. For the gasp and hiss, for the breath and kiss.

For the feeling of his large palm as it settles along the swallow’s-nest bend of your neck, the way his thumb runs along your jaw like tracing the guard of his beloved sword, tilting your mouth towards him. For the way your heart might flutter like a tiny, caged bird, or the way you might feel his heart thumping like a fist from his chest to yours.

For the way his voice rolls over your name like a ship at sea; for the way it would shake your body from your bones and leave you more liquid than solid in his arms. For how you never used to think your story would be a love story, but then you realize that every story is a love story if caught in the right moment, in the right light.

And here, breaking apart from Zoro, with a thick, stolen streak of lemon-yellow sunlight leaking in from the kitchen window — that’s exactly what it feels like.

“Oh,” is all you have the strength to say.

Zoro, in all his solid brilliance and quiet audacity, laughs.

You taste the smile on your own lips before you realize you’re smiling. But when you try to bury your face in his neck, he winces slightly as you brush his still-fresh wounds.

“Crap, I forgot about these.”

Zoro chuckles as you hurry to press a few small bandages to the wounds.

“It’s okay. So did I.”

You finish dressing his wounds in silence, though this silence is markedly different from every other silence that had ever existed between you. There’s ease and tension, both, and when you’re finally finished, Zoro takes both your hands in his.

“So…” you say, unsure suddenly of where to look.

Zoro’s laugh is just as soft, just as uncertain.

“So.”

You try to look out the window, but by now, the dawning sun is so bright that it temporarily blinds you and you jerk back. Zoro smiles, reaching up to run his thumbs along your closed eyelids before dropping them to hook around your wrists again.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” he asks, quiet as always.

You purse your lips and let your lashes flutter open. You find him watching you. Heat crests up your shoulders and into your cheeks, and suddenly, the exhaustion of the night before saps at your limbs. You sigh.

“Right now? Not really.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, sounding as relieved as you feel.

You bite your lips and cast your gaze shyly across his face, your bird-wing heartbeat still flapping in your chest. You fight the urge to go still, to reach for that shield that has always protected you before. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s thumbs tracing circles along the insides of your wrists.

“Can I ask for something else, though?”

“What is it?”

You reach up a finger, nudging one of his golden earrings. You don’t miss the way he shivers, or the way his breath quickens in his chest.

“Kiss me again.”

Zoro grins, tugging you towards him, leaning into the curve of your palm as he does.

And does.

And does again.

reqs are: temporarily closed

but feedback is much loved and appreciated!!!

[hyperdramas]

green beans | choi seungcheol

pairing: choi seungcheol x reader

warnings: non-idol au, ceo!seungcheol, lots of fluff, reader is implied to be female, playful bantering, pet names ('babydoll'), mentions of children, reader is a badass housewife, lots of kissing

now playing: a lonely night (the weeknd)

word count: 699 (1 away from 700 are you serious)

"I'm home," The sound of footsteps pulled your attention from the simmering pan of vegetables, and you turned to see your CEO husband Seungcheol, sleeves to his button-up shirt rolled up as he dropped his wallet and keys on the countertop.

He strolled up to you, smiling as he pressed a kiss to your neck, smiling against your warm skin. "Smells so good, babydoll."

"Thank you, Cheollie. How was your day?" You ask, and Seungcheol sighs, leaning back on the cuonter as he clears his throat.

"Very tiring. We had new interns today and they brought me to my limits multiple times. One of them even clogged up the toilets." Seungcheol's voice was tired, and you chuckled, almost bursting out with laughter over your simmering green beans.

Sighing, you seasoned the greens with a bit more soy sauce, stepping back seconds after as you properly brought your arms around Seungcheol's neck. He pressed into you, smiling underneath your touch as you kissed him passionately.

"What if they see us?" Seungcheol chuckles deviously, eyes crinkling up with his smile as you blush and swat his chest. "We're not doing anything bad, Cheol."

"Are we sure kissing in front of our family dinner isn't bad, babydoll?" Seungcheol's hands squeeze your sides, and you roll your eyes at him, flicking your water covered hands at him as he gasps.

"Like you've not kissed my hand and collarbone while stirring green beans." You rolled your eyes at him, and he giggled, that cute, familiar chuckle sending shivers down your arms.

"You were too damn cute, hunched over the oven trying to season the green beans right. I was gonna explode if I didn't grab your face and kiss you until you couldn't think." Seungcheol whines, lips pouty as he nuzzles his face in your collarbone again. Laughing aloud, you jump when you hear your six-year-old daughter's voice come crashing into the kitchen.

"Daddy!" Her arms were open wide, and Seungcheol pulled away swiftly, catching her in his arms as he spins her around.

"Oh, it's my pretty little girl! How was your day?" He smiled at his daughter with such joy it broke your heart a little, and Yena couldn't help but squeal with delight, small gummy smile lighting up your world.

"Good, Daddy! I got first place in my class's spelling bee!" Yena jumped up and down in excitement, and Seungcheol's eyes sparkled as he kissed her all over her face, causing Yena to squeal happily.

"That's my smart, pretty girl." He praised her, and soon afterwards, your son, named after your husband, made his way into the kitchen. His thick eyebrows, which matched his father's, rose into his hairline as he crashed into his father's arms.

"And how have you been?" He questioned his son, and he smiled. "I've been good, Dad. I missed you so much. Mom missed you even more, though." The younger Seungcheol smiled evily as he grinned up at you, and you glared at him, neck and cheeks heating up as your husband laid eyes on you, obviously enjoying your flustered reaction.

"Seungcheol II!" You whisper to him, and he skips off happily, Yena sprinting after him.

"So you missed me?" Seungcheol teased, leaning in as he kissed the shell of your ear.

"........Maybe," You crossed your arms, and Seungcheol dove into your neck again, peppering kisses across your collarbone as his lips leave a trail of warm tingles down your neck and over your body.

"Your green beans are burning, by the way." He whispers, deep voice making your arm hair stand up before you blush deeply, stirring the beans once more as you mutter, "You made me forget how to stir for a second, Cheol."

"Keep stirring, babydoll, you're doing great." Seungcheol smiles, a hint of sarcasm behind his voice as he holds up two thumbs in an measly encouragement. Smiling at your husband's antics, you finish up dinner, smiling as you finally sit down beside your other half and enjoy a nice, home-cooked meal.

tags: @k1eev @kstrucknet

a/n: first addition other than dk!! still miss my pookie though so probably going to start working on my dk garten of banban au next?? (garten of banban is a stupid game but it's my comfort game so suck it up and deal w it)

[deadghosy]

SLYTHERIN BOYS MASTERLIST

(Ordered by post date/hogwarts legacy is included)

HARRY POTTER

🐍 If you missed the hoop while playing basketball

🐍 Platonic Slytherin boys with a keeper friend

🐍“I’m allergic to bullshit”

🐍 Reacting to you saying “you’re gonna pass out”

🐍 React to you saying “someone is staring”

🐍 Taking an ugly picture of them

🐍 Reacting to you clogging up their toilet

🐍 React to you being outside despite being allergic to mosquitoes

🐍 React to you passing out

🐍 Reacting to you oversleeping

🐍 Curly hair! Reader (poc friendly)

🐍 React to you giggling at your phone

🐍 Platonic Slytherin boys with adhd friend

🐍 The type of drivers they are as memes

🐍 Texting them “I think someone is following me”

🐍 When someone tries to bully you

🐍 How they react to you saying “I’m hungry”

🐍 React to you driving crazy

🐍 React to you saying “I hate you” to them

🐍 Reacting to you saying “ima kill myself”

🐍 Mattheo with a male roommate pt.1

🐍 Mattheo with a male roommate pt.2

🐍 Coquette! reader

🐍 Reacting to you being a telepathic/having telekinesis

🐍 Best friend! Mattheo headcannons pt.1//pt.2//pt.3

🐍 Modern Slytherin boys with a male figure skater

🐍 Chaos magic user! Reader

🐍 Platonic modern Slytherin boys with an insomniac male roommate

🐍 Reacting to you dancing alone

🐍 Reacting to you falling asleep during a movie

🐍 Percy Jackson! Reader w/mattheo

🐍 Reacting to m! Reader shaving

🐍 Platonic high! mattheo

🐍 High Theo x reader

🐍 You being scared awake by thunder

🐍 Slytherin boys when they miss you

🐍 Werewolf M.R, T.N, & L.B

🐍 How they would pick you up

🐍 Crybaby! Mattheo

🐍 Teddy-T.N

🐍 Vlogger! Mattheo pt.1//pt.2

🐍 Slytherin boys w/ blind!reader

🐍 July 4th with the Slytherin boys

🐍 Reacting to you falling face first

🐍 Reacting to you falling asleep to them talking

🐍 Reacting to you doing a back flip

🐍 Fanboy! Slytherins with a singer!reader

🐍 Owl!reader

🐍 French!reader getting hurt

🐍 Slytherin boys with witch beauty gf

🐍 Vampire mattheo

🐍 Vampire Tom

🐍 Reacting to their boyfriend having scars

🐍 Ghostface! Mattheo

🐍 Being mattheo’s childhood friend to lover: male version//female version

🐍 Mattheo (fem!reader) during your birthday

🐍 Slytherin boys with a black fem!reader who tall like Megan thee stallion

🐍 Reacting to you crying

🐍 Reacting to m!reader picking them up

🐍 Stalker!Mattheo

🐍“A love that burns.” Poet!mattheo

🐍 Summertime with mattheo riddle

🐍 Being best friends with Lorenzo

🐍 Beach days with Theodore Nott

🐍 Theodore Nott being your yandere best friend

🐍 Sugar daddy!Tom headcannons

🐍“All men are shit..except for you” SB reacting to you saying this

🐍 Old money!Theodore Nott headcannons + moodboard

🐍 Reacting to reader being a manipulator

🐍 Hoodie stealer-Mattheo

🐍 Toxic!theodore nott banners

HOGWARTS LEGACY

🐍 Platonic Ominis headcannons

🐍 Platonic Sebastian headcannons

🐍 Werewolf Sebastian & Ominis x reader

🐍 Sebastian & Ominis with a merfolk! Reader

🐍 Loverboy! Modern Sebastian headcannons and imagines

🐍 Platonic sliver trio headcannons

🐍 Ominis with a hufflepuff lover

🐍 Platonic brotherly headcannons with Sebastian and m!mc

🐍 Chaotic modern Sebastian headcannons

🐍 Ominis x blind!reader headcannons

🐍 Modern platonic Sebastian headcanons with m!mc

🐍 Chaotic modern sliver trio headcanons & imagines

SIBLING! READER

🐍 React to sister! Reader dating

🐍 React to their little sibling falling in their dorm

🐍 Sister!reader on her first period

🐍 Riddle brothers with a sister having a Mandy personality

🐍 Baby! Reader taking their first steps

🐍 Modern au riddle brothers with a little sibling

🐍 Reacting to eating their food

🐍 Baby sibling falling asleep on them

🐍 Reacting to sibling reader crying/bullied

🐍 Reacting to sibling reader ignore them

🐍 Draco with a twin gryffindor sister

🐍 Reacting to little sibling cling to them after holiday

[gaypleasantview]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☆ bathroom bliss, part I. // Autumn Drop Day 3 ☆₊‧⁺˖⋆

⋆ 2 decorative objects to grace your toilet!

⋆ 37 various swatches

⋆ files are compressed and uniquely named

Link, swatch, detailed credits and more info under the cut ♡

Hi everyone! There's no way to say this that isn't awkward, but I made something to decorate toilets specifically! I like to take inspiration from the real world, so I've been noticing little things that are present in our reality and have never been seen in the Sims before, at least not in my game. And I must say, I really enjoy those little flower stamps people keep putting into toilets in cleaning videos (I have one too, but it's a very ugly shape for no reason). I thought about it and realized I'd never seen anything of the kind for the game, so I went ahead and created my first ever finished mesh from scratch, which is just a plain surface, to be honest, but it goes well with the first mesh I've ever converted, which I'm pretty sure was a period painkiller box... Anyway! I know small stamps like this probably wouldn't actually color the water in the bowl, but whenever I see those things that do color it I find them really funny, so I decided to make something like that to go with the stamp. Yeah, today I'm sharing a toilet water colorant. I don't know what to say in my defence. Toilets can be fun now!

Also, yes, the Part I in the name is a threat.

So, let's dive in! (or rather not...)

♡ Overview

This set consist of two objects, a flower gel stamp and a colored water surface. They're modeled to work with Maxis toilets, but are supposed to be compatible with custom ones, too, as long as they follow the Maxis shape. You don't have to use moveobjects to position them! They can intersect any object, allowing to place them directly into the toilet. Sims don't mind having them in the way (or their own clothing, for that matter).

Both objects can be found in Plumbing/Miscellaneous and cost §2 each.

♡ Object 1: Toilet Gel Stamp

This is an object to attach to the back of your toilet bowl. It's supposed to be positioned as shown in the screenshots above, but maybe you could put it in other spots, I haven't checked!

The mesh is a whole lot of 2 polygons, and it uses 128x128 textures because the flower was very cute up close and I couldn't help myself. It's an actual image from the game, it comes from the interests section! I made it semi-transparent so that it would look like actual gel texture (shout out to my best friend for suggesting that). It comes in 10 ridiculously bright colors that I had fun naming like they're candy flavors. They are all supposed to smell nice, just trust me!

♡ Object 2: Toilet Water Enhancer

Maybe some of us just deserve to have pretty water inside our toilets. To achieve that, I took the mesh of actual water directly from the toilet and just put it a bit higher up, so it's basically like a cap. Because of that, you won't really be able to witness the animation of flushing water or see if the toilet is clogged while this object is present.

The mesh is 6 polygons and uses 128x128 textures. I made 27 recolors in various colors I think are pretty, because the whole point of this project is to add something to the bathroom that will take our minds away from its general purpose. The swatches actually use a mix of Maxis water textures.

All swatches are pictured below in alphabetical order (aside from the mesh one, ignore where it is in the picture).

Credits: Maxis for the water mesh and textures, @horusmenhosetix for Organized Extracted TS2 Icons where I found the flower, SaraMK and Richief on moreawesomethanyou for originally extracting them, HugeLunatic for the Object Intersection Tutorial.

♡ Download ♡

SFS | Mediafire

[paradoxbeta]

What are your alien ocs thoughts on eating corn?

here's all my opinionated aliens! thank you for the question, it was very fun :) text transcript under the cut

YIEL: Um... I can't eat <nervous> but I wish I could. Apparently GAR'S old enough to have eaten before, he says it's nothing special but I think he's just never had anything good <skeptical>

LADY: I had corn once and, um... clogged the toilet. I'm sure your Earth exports are lovely, I just can't handle so much fiber.

GUNNELL: Ho-ho, corn? That's exotic exotic. I've had it before and I like the taste but I wouldn't eat it as part of a home meal.

THE PIRATE: Well maybe I'd have an answer for you if I could get my talons on anything other than NUTRIENT PASTE

CIPRIAN: Man, you can eat people for all I care, just clean up after yourself and we're cool.

STELLA: ...Bro

IUWAU: I HATE CORN. I don't even have anything against the taste, but the sound of someone eating it makes me want to leap out of my skin.

MOLLIMAR: Tastes okay, but pretty much everything tastes similar to me. I'll shamelessly piggyback off of Devon's opinion and say it's great.

BYZOW: It is unlike anything on my home planet! I like it. The taste is not good to me but the appearance is so funny.

PHIER-KEL: I love corn. I'm #1 corn warrior. Corn fears me. I'm the bane of corn. I love it so much, I have a t-shirt about it. The day I die is the day 70% more corn becomes available on the market. Corn. 4. Life. (He talks like this about all food he likes.)

DEVON: I'm no alien, but I'm out here for team corn.

[chihoshisai]

Guitarist Ace

Ace x Reader

Part 1

cw : self-sabotaging Ace, drinking, established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, cursing, Ace needs serious therapy // wc : 3.8K // I'm really loving toxic guitarist Ace to the point i'm planning on writing more of him ♡

tagging : @littleleelee @taylor4taytay @seillarium @acpola01

A Drowned Temper Part 2

Ace wasn’t sure when he blacked out. But when he did wake up, the harsh colors of sunset were creeping all around his apartment. Irritating every cell in his body as he winced while the feeling of consciousness regained him. His brain thumped in his head. His eyes burned. Everything seemed to feel too bright or too noisy. And worst of all, the wretched heated sensation that started to make its way up from his stomach to clog at his throat, before getting released once his head had found the toilet bowl. God, he just wished for every part of his body to stop throwing a tantrum and behave so he could get ready to go on about his business. 

Right, now that his emotional probation day had passed, now that he had drunk away his feelings, it was time for things to get real again. The routine — head to his part-time job, go to the studio to practice and maybe hit the bar with his friends. Practice being the highlight until the time they settled for dripped away. Which was a mere two to three hours. As for food? A mere afterthought. Whenever he had time to grab a bite or two in between transit from one place to another. Things were too hectic for him to slow down. 

In all honesty, with the way his body felt, almost like it was mutilated, Ace did not have enough willpower to think about you. Nor about the things he had said that had driven you to exit his apartment with a rainfall of tears staining your features. Right now, all he could do was dissociate. Put his brain on autopilot, and do the things he usually did when he wasn’t completely wasted. 

The truth was that he feared to take a step back, to consider and analyze things, and that in turn he would come to realize the ugly truth behind his reality. That he needed help. But why ask or seek for it when dreams and opportunities are right around the corner? Why sacrifice lifelong efforts just because you’re having a hard time? Ace was the type to suck it up, letting it explode inside of him rather than coming to terms with his weaknesses. Even if one of them was you. He owed you not one, but many apologies for his shitty behavior. And even if he wasn’t ready to properly own up to it, what with refusing to change and treat himself better, then he’d make up for it with what he did best. Music. Signing, flowers, soft yellow fairy lights mixed with an astonishingly sweet and romantic candlelight homemade diner. The perfect combo that he would accompany with pleading eyes as the cherry on top.  

Yet again, you weren’t the priority right now. Finding pain relievers was. 

Ace busied himself through a disheveled morning routine — a quick shower, the first clothes he saw and the usual skipping of breakfast as the finishing touch. He would make it up to you eventually. He truly would. But only after the storm that raged inside him and between the two of you yesterday had passed. After all, you were his brightest light of hope and inspiration.  

Eventually he made it outside, grunting under the sunlight that discomforted his still present hungover. He survived work, as easy going as it was by working in an instrument shop and using his expertise to guide the clients that wandered in. Work was a breeze of fresh air for Ace. A way to connect and be in constant proximity with his interest while also not being too demanding. And let's not forget the discount, a blessing for not only him but also to his members, providing a comfortable cushion for the otherwise rigid budget spent on instruments and tech. Surprisingly, the pay was good and for some reasons the tips he received were even greater. It was a given that he was attractive, even if he never considered himself that way, but Ace preferred to believe that his sales skills were the cause rather than suspecting his appearance.  

With the relief that work had brought on the sensitive body of Ace, late afternoon had managed to come by and announce the end of his shift. As such, he bid farewell to his coworkers and headed to the studio, his feet's dragging along the sidewalk with the nearing of his demanding reality. He sighed, sliding his hands in his pocket, thinking how positive he had to be for the infinite time in front of his band. It was so so fucking exhausting. If not for his believing in his skills and worth, along with his member's, he would've screwed the whole thing a long time ago. Most probably spiraling in the unknown reality that would've welcomed him like a cold shower. Hanging in there was hard. But giving up and trying to pick things up again after some time, with the past possibly repeating itself like chains pulling you down, seemed even harder. Scarier in fact. 

Therefore Ace readjusted the guitar case on his back, feeling it heavier than usual as it was the reminder of his journey, clenched his jaw and instead thought ahead for which way to uplift his friend's mood. 

The studio in which they regularly performed was situated upstairs with the first floor being for dancing, giving off a cool air with its black walls while also looking quite elegant with leather couches in the lobby. Ace arrived with a yawn that quickly got replaced by his customer service smile upon greeting the manager and a slight bow once learning that the price had been paid and the others were already inside. 

However, the true colors that etched at his heart quickly clawed their way to his face once his back had been turned to the lobby's counter. And it was with a scowl that Ace led his feet amidst the corridor, recognizing each door with the inhabitant it housed as a potential threat before stopping in front of one. The only threat behind it being himself. At least once he had stepped in. And his members also. If we forget the other bands and the industry, the greatest obstacle an artist could face was inevitably themselves. 

With those last thought echoing in his mind like a warning to give his all for the upcoming three hours, Ace's lungs found themselves rising before emptying themselves of all the inhaled air and consequently providing a counterfeit comfort to his nerves, before a firm hand opened the door to allowed the muffled voices and instrument symphony to pass through the forged smile that stretched Ace’s lips. 

There it was again.

The subtle stolen glances of worries. The averting gazes when confronted by eye contact. The pretending to appear busy by fiddling with the instrument. The compassionate smiles.

Ace did not ask for any of it. And because their concern was genuine, he turned a blind eye to it all as there were more pressing issues at hand than nitpicking his bandmate's expressions. 

With his positive facial features, he closed the door behind him and let a greeting that had been polished for such situations slide from his dry throat. “Hi, it's good to see you guys are always so early!”

“And you're right on time,” the bass member Marco pointed out nonchalantly. 

The drummer Yamato, who until now sat on his chair, rose with a smile. “To be honest, I was starting to wonder where you were, but now that you're here I'm relieved.”    

“Sorry, got a busy day at work,” Ace laughed through his lie, depositing his instrument case agaisn't the wall to take out the guitar. 

Truth be told, it was quite rare for Ace to arrive remotely at the appointed time, but with the rough evening he's had with you, let's just say that things had hit harder than usual. His feelings. His tears. His anger. His frustration. His increased alcohol intake. His black out. No wonder coming here almost felt like a chore, especially when he was aware that you knew the band's practice schedule. 

“Is your girlfriend not coming over tonight?” The pianist Izo asked, his serious expression piercing through Ace's mask.

His smile twitched at it's corner, but by placing the guitar around his body and keeping his gaze on the strings while tuning them, it was enough to appear unbothered despite the complex hurricane that bit his insides. “I don't know, she didn't tell me anything.” His heartbeat raced in anxiety by placing the blame on your silence.

After making sure that the guitar had been plugged in the amplifier, Marco went on to change the mood that started to appear like a morning fog. “Alright then, since we're all here let's get started.” 

“Let's play loud enough for everyone outside to hear,” Yamato cheered.

“You're overestimating the sound proofness of these walls,” Izo pointed out with arched eyebrows.

“Who cares, we have to be able to make our music reach the people standing at the far end of the audience after all,” Ace grinned, taking his usual position in the center, turning his neck with a nod to give Yamato the signal.

Three drumstick click traveled through the room, before the harmony of different instruments went on to echo through the walls. Ace, who despite all things considered had been waiting for this moment allowed his voice to be carried by the melodic notes. His sense of loss and failure, mixed with the complications of relationships seeped through his pore by his every breath. Record companies be damned. Auditions be damned. And fuck romance for being so damn difficult. So damn demanding. 

Even if he loved you.

In that single moment all that mattered was the polishing of their skills. Until the exhilaration of the practice came to an end, the heated up muscles relaxed, puffed breaths came to be heard and the intensity that once seized the room came to be blown away by the silence of instruments. Their time was up.  

“Good job y'all, tonight was a good one!” Ace praised in between breaths, turning to face his band with a proud smile now that his passion has been fueled. Looking at them and the sweat that dripped from their skin was enough to remind him of his faith in them, as well as how he could keep on doing this vice cycle over and over again. 

If he wasn't broken, he could keep going. If his fingers still moved, he could keep playing. If his voice wasn't gone, he could keep signing. If his heart was still ablaze, he could keep the band living. 

With everyone busying themselves with packing up, Marco took that opportunity to slide himself beside Ace. “You probably shouldn't tag along with us after this. Go and get some rest,” he hushed in a whisper.

Offended by the words, Ace's lips thinned in a line, “what makes you say that?”

“Just some concern for our leader, you know,” he placed a hand on Ace's shoulder, squeezing it in compassion. “I'll handle stuff here so get some rest at home, okay?”   

Deep down, granting himself a distraction through the evening merry of eating and drinking with his friends was what Ace desired the most. It would in turn cloud his return home, with an unfocused mind that would cease to think of the difficult stuff and lull him to sleep proficiently. But going home sober meant facing a reality he had yet to swallow. A reality that had been postponed by his hangover. And with his mind finally free from the haze, he would undoubtedly think of you. Of the vile speech he gave you all while standing in the cold night veil of his apartment. Alone. Clear headed. In silence. More than anything, he dreaded the direction his thoughts would take towards himself in the solitary confinement of his head.

“What are you guys whispering about,” Yamato asked with furrowed eyebrows. The drums belonged to the studio, meaning that he only had his sticks to pack. 

Bending to pick up his guitar case before putting it on his back, brushing away the hand simultaneously, Ace gave an innocent smile. “It's nothing,” he spared no look towards Marco, knowing full well he failed to answer his question. 

“Then let's go eat already,” Yamato chirped, wrapping an arm around Ace's shoulders.

“About that,” Marco began, forcing both to look in his direction, along with Izo who had just finished packing his piano and turned to join the conversation, “Ace won't be able to join us tonight. He's quite tired you see.”

The nonchalant attitude almost made Ace burst out in anger. But his mind knew that the words were spoken out of worry for him, and therefore used that knowledge to lock in the emotions alongside the thousands of others ones who had met the same fate, preventing them from seeing the light. Instead, his lips pursed in a weary way while he nodded.   

“Is that so. Then get some rest,” Yamato voiced with a nod accompanied by an encouraging smile and a fist bump on Ace's shoulder.

“Get home safe,” Izo added in turn.

The words forced to come out of his throat with an unsuspicious tone while anxiety dreaded in the pit of his stomach unnerved Ace. “Yeah, I'll see you guys tomorrow.” He forced a smile to crack on his features before silently following the group outside and parting ways with a wave of hands.  

As his body neared home, every muscle dragging Ace in an aching manner made him aware of the truth. He was physically tired. Thankfully that wasn't a lie. But that didn't guarantee that the exhaustion would travel to his brain and shift him to sleep like alcohol would. Once the habit was settled, there was no getting out of it quick and easy. As such, with the brisk night air pricking his skin, his thoughts, while reenacting the events of practice, made Ace take a mental note to pick up more of the bittersweet substance after dropping off his guitar at home. The last memories of your times together were still too fresh for him to analyze them radically. 

Having finally reached the floor of his apartment, Ace momentarily froze.

Shit. 

He considered turning back. Pretending he saw nothing. Maybe even crash at one of his brother's place under the excuse that it has been a while since they met. Even crazier, go back to the orphanage in which he grew. Anywhere. Anywhere would do.

But he had spent too long considering his options because your eyes turned to fix him with a blank look. Running away now would only add oil to the fire. However his heart could not permit him to fumble twice in less than 24 hours. But it was far too soon for you to show up. Far too soon for the shrouding feelings that swelled inside Ace to have cooled down. 

His brain hurled profanities, while his legs headed towards the door in a slower way, his face trying to remain calm as he eyed you crouching by his door. Meanwhile his mind was completely panicking. Trying to pinpoint the reason behind your presence. Almost choking him by entertaining the thought that a breakup would follow. God this was awful. A bitter taste settled in his throat while time stretched into eternity. 

As the distance closed, Ace watched you stand up, your body language bare from any sort of emotions when his feet stopped inches away from you. The fire of yesterday shouldn't have extinguished in you yet. Maybe you were here to pick a fight in turn. What a poor consolation these reflections were. He remained silent, unsure of the correct approach to take and hoped you would voice your reason for being here. 

“You're back early today. Did you skip the after practice hangout?” You asked with genuine curiosity. 

Ace couldn't bring himself to meet your eyes. “Yeah well, things happen.” He shrugged. Frankly it annoyed him — that you were making small talk after deciding to show up unprompted and how he wasn't ready to deal with you just yet. He had never expected you to come for him when it should have been the other way around and now he wished you'd get to the point before his temper got the best of him again. 

“Is it okay for me to come inside?” You pointed a finger towards the door.

“Of course,” Ace brought out the keys from his pocket, tinkering them inside the lock. Best have a talk inside than out for the whole world to hear. Plus with you inside, it would overwrite the self isolating scenario that would've happened otherwise. 

An increase of heartbeat found itself ringing in Ace's chest. While he deposited the keys. While he put down his guitar. While he ran a hand through his hair. While he sat down on the couch. While he watched you stubbornly stand across the room, refusing to sit. Everything made him and his poor heart uneasy. Terrified. Palms sweating. Eyes unable to do nothing but fixate on the ground.  

The reality was that he should have given you an apology the moment he saw you. Begged for forgiveness even. It might have been enough to salvage the situation. It might have prevented this thick tension from staining the air of his home. And because he hadn't spared you a single thought throughout the day, he wasn't ready. Now with his skin growing hot with the passage of time, he sat awaiting for your judgment to come.

“What's wrong?” Your words, softly spoken, carried over while you eyed Ace.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed, and finally after getting inside he looked at you. 

“I'm asking you what's wrong,” you began. But as the confusion remained you further added, “you were right to say that I can't understand all you're dealing with since I'm no artist. But I think there's more here than simple frustration over a rejection. Speak to me not as a musician but as a person.”

Ace parted his lips as if to say something, but quickly shut them. It felt too anticlimactic. And he wasn't going to jump on the opportunity to make amends without addressing the elephant in the room. “Do you have nothing to say about yesterday?” His gaze found the floor again in guilt.

You sighed. “Not particularly. I just came at the wrong time,” you admitted. Truth be told, your entire being had grown soft towards Ace, almost like a sponge that would absorb all of his ugly and release it through your personal methods for the sake of your sanity. You loved him enough to make a sacrifice. The tears. The pain. The misery. All were temporary. But the happiness. The laughter. The warmth. It was enough to overwrite the bad and fuel your down bad passion for this man. Even while being aware that the whole thing felt like the thorns of a rose.

“Don't give me that crap,” Ace raised his tone in annoyance. “I owe you an apology,” he mumbled sourly, clenching his now intertwined fingers, unable to face you still.

“And you think you can give one in this state?” You asked with an arched eyebrow. 

God did Ace hate being sober.

“But if you want to talk about yesterday then fine. Why did you say those words to me? Why did you push me away? Why did you treat me that way?!” Your voice grew in melancholy with each sentence bringing back the ache of another day.

Ace racked his hair once more with a hand, according occasional glances at you. Your tone ripped at his heart even though he was the one that brought forth the conversation. “Because I was drunk,” he whispered in shame, cheeks reddening in self awareness.

“What?” You scoffed, baffled.

“Because I was drunk okay!” he raised his voice along accusatory eyes in your direction at the sound of your bewilderment before regretting it through a sigh. “Look I'm sorry.” He said in a softer tone.  

You crossed your arms, “that's just your excuse!”

“Then what do you want me to say?!” Ace's voice threatened to reach the roof. To him, this was his reason. His truth. And to see you blatantly deny it proved quite painful. Almost unfair.

“Alcohol is a bridge between your pent up emotions and your mind. So I want you to be honest with me,” you paced the room, closing the distance that fermented the argument.

With you standing so close, Ace found his sight robbed of the ground and instead directed an annoyed look to your face. “What the fuck are you talking about?!” Truly he had no idea. All he wished was for you to accept his apology and move on. But now that you were the one who ambushed him, holding the reins of the conversation it made the struggle quite difficult. It unsettled his mind, leaving him feeling vulnerable. Being sober didn't help either.

“I'll ask you again. What's wrong?” One of your hands, ignoring his temper, slowly went on to stroke Ace's cheek, exchanging warmth as a reminder of the affection that existed between you two, before parting ways while your eyes egged him to answer. Yesterday had made you realize how deep Ace had fallen. How far gone he was. How unaware he remained. Therefore you weren't about to allow him to slip further without trying to catch him. Even if it meant drowning with him. 

Blaming him would be too cruel.

Blaming the alcohol would be too immature.  

Ace took in a deep breath, having calmed down at your touch. “I don't know. I can't understand what is happening to me,” his lips trembled, “so how can I explain it to you when I can't rationalize it for myself,” his voice cracked while his nose sniffled. The burning sensation that scratched at his eyes mixed with the prickle of his throat made Ace take notice of his first words of truth. How he had laid bare a reality he ignored for far too long. Rather than making him feel relieved however, it made his muscles tense, his heart palpitate in an uneasy fashion and his mind to grow apprehensive towards the future. A part of him wanted to blame you for bringing forth this side of him. However, his thoughts were far too agitated to fight back against your ruling of the conversation.     

“That's okay,” you wrapped your arms around his neck in an embrace, pulling him close until his head nestled in your stomach while he remained sitting. “That's all I wanted to hear. You did well telling me that,” your hand stroked his hair in an affectionate way, “let's figure things out together from now on, okay?” 

Ace nodded while raising his arm to circle you in turn. “I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry,” he whimpered.

“I forgive you.” 

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Tag: @unamzi

my contribution to the “give skeletons your period cramps” thing is actually to say that if killer were capable of having periods, he would eventually lose track of when it is likely to happen—due to all the resets, and very likely the withholding of information such as dates and time from him by Chara and or nightmare.

he would only ever suspect when his period is coming on due to unusually intense reactions from his body—such as sudden becoming aware of how exhausted and fatigued it is, sudden lock ups in parts of its body from either dt clogging joints or times where bones were broken and healed wrong.

his soul’s light may even flare in response to any cramps, although due to his high pain tolerance and detachment from his body, he is not able to feel them except for in stage 1 or 3.

instead his biggest problems would be intrusive thoughts that feel dissociative in nature—easily agitated by things that didn’t bother him before and increase in murderous urges, and thoughts of self harm such stabbing his abdomen or the area where the blood is coming from—not particularly for seemingly any reason, such as the emotions associated with stage 1.

perhaps desire to be in pain, because the body is supposed to be feeling hurt during these times and it feels strange to be without. perhaps a desire to punish it for “betraying” him.

He is probably actually pretty self destructive during his time of the month. Would probably do strange things with the blood like finger paint. Might give it a taste if he’s curious enough. If nightmare or chara had issue with all the blood getting everywhere but there was no period products available or withheld from him he’d probably have to make do with stifling the blood.

maybe he just stops caring at some point and free bleeds, although perhaps only if doing so would irritate nightmare/Chara or otherwise make someone uncomfortable in a way that amuses him. Although I moreso see something like this happening if he can’t get or find anything to stop the bleeding, and trying to convince himself he has control over it by finding amusement in others disgust, irritation, or discomfort.

however, since periods are something he yet again has no control over, he’d likely find a way to keep control in any way he can just like if he ever found himself pregnant. i honestly think things like pregnancy and periods would only greatly disturb him and further his sense of detachment from the body—and he probably has a lot of repressed hatred and rage and disgust towards his body.

at most he’s probably shove some old rags or shirts or toilet paper down there and basically tell the body to get over itself— while he probably actively makes it worse. there may be an uptick in his sadistic and masochistic tendencies (especially towards the body, but perhaps even anyone who provokes his irritation—although he is very unlikely to express things like annoyance or anger in typical ways, possibly by emotionally detaching further after even the most minor outburst), and he may experience an increase in paranoia and dissociation.

(and perhaps things like praise and validation from someone he trusts, like color, could help—although if it came from anyone else he’d probably immediately assume they are trying to manipulate him. and he is still likely to doubt even color, due to paranoia.)

so perhaps he will attempt to handle it himself, he absolutely will keep it an absolute secret and tell no one, and would probably avoid anything that could provoke a response from the body or him.

[lakesbian]

i think all the worm "fans" (i am allowed to put this in quotes, they haven't finished even half the story) who insist it should have all just been the loft-era slice of life should 1. finish worm and then 2. get really into producing the REAL character accurate slice of life, which is the loft era before taylor got there. the second she got there she brought the plot with her. before that they were just hanging out arguing about who clogged the toilet and what to get for takeout and shit. now of course all the individual torment nexi were still going on but they were also just chilling